Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sitting inside the Headmaster's office was not a fun experience.

Sitting inside the Headmaster's office with a split lip, black eye, and bloody knuckles while the man in question stared at him, the other boy, and the other boy’s father down, was even less fun.

And, it wasn't even his fault, but he was going to be blamed for this.

Again.

Harry stole a glance at Max, the boy he’d gotten into a fight with, and immediately looked away when he realized that Max’s father was staring at him as well, his hand on his son’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

They were still waiting on Fiona to get there, and it was taking her a lot longer than it usually did. The Crow’s Nest was only fifteen minutes away from his school, and they had been sitting here for nearly thirty, just… Waiting.

“Harry?” Headmaster Collins asked, causing him to look up with wide eyes. “Do you know why your Mum is taking so long?”

“No, sir.” He replied quietly, kicking his feet a bit. “But she’s working today, and-”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, the door opened, and the others in the room all turned to look.

“So… Care to explain why my son is up here?” Gid asked, the sound of his voice causing Harry to light up like a Christmas tree, and he whipped his head around.

“Dad!”

“Hey, bud.” The man chuckled a bit, having to duck to make his way into the office before he sat down in the chair next to his son, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “Ah… You look like you got the shit kicked out of you… You feeling okay?”

“I’m sore, but I’ll be okay.”

“Good, good… Now. Why is Harry up here? Because my wife was in a tizzy when she came running upstairs, having to leave her new employee down at the counter during the morning rush, to ask me to come and deal with this.”

Gid’s question went unanswered, as both men were staring at him in surprise, and it took him a minute to realize why these two were staring at his dad like that.

Headmaster Collins and Max’s father were both primly dressed in suits and ties, with loafers, looking like they had just come from a day at the office. His dad, however, in his black skinny jeans, combat boots, leather jacket, and White Zombie t-shirt, seemed more like some punk teenager they would sneer at while on their way to work.

Harry shifted closer to his dad, and the man wrapped an arm around his shoulders instinctively, hugging him close.

It took a moment for Headmaster Collins’ brain to snap back into gear, and when it did, he put on the fakest smile that he could, and began to speak.

“Well, ah, Mr. Hartford… Harry and Max here were involved in a fight.” He explained. “And, as per our policies, both of them will be suspended for-”

“Wait, wait wait wait.” Gid held a hand up, stopping Headmaster Collins as he turned towards Harry, a frown on his face. “Haz. Babe, what happened?”

“I punched Max because he said that I was a freak.” Harry said quietly, fiddling with his hands. “And that you and Mum have to be freaks too, if you wanted me for a son…”

“...He called you a freak?”

“And he called you guys freaks.”

“Buddy, I don’t care about that. He called you a freak?”

“Mhm…”

Gid’s frown deepened, nearly turning into a scowl as he turned to look at Max and his father.

“...So. Harry is being suspended, even though this… Max kid started the fight?”

“Your son threw the first punch.” Max’s father said simply. “Max was only defending himself.”

“...That so?” Gid’s eyes narrowed, and Harry could see his shoulders squaring a bit, like he was getting ready to lunge across the two students just so he could strangle the other man. He bit his lip, grabbing his dad’s arm and squeezing it a bit.

“Dad… It’s fine.” He said softly. “I did hit first.”

Headmaster Collins laughed nervously, holding his hands up. “Gentlemen, please… Let’s not overreact here.”

“Nono, I’m reacting perfectly normally. You want to suspend my son because he reacted to being repeatedly insulted? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Your son, Mr. Hartford, physically assaulted another student-”

“After being harassed and insulted.”

“-And we have a zero tolerance policy.”

Gid huffed, standing up and staring down at both of the men.

“...Zero tolerance my ass.” He snapped. “I’m not signing this suspension paperwork. I’m signing my son out, and by the end of the week, I’m unenrolling him from this shithole.”

Harry’s eyes widened a bit, and he too jumped to his feet, grabbing his dad’s hand as he picked up his backpack.

“And no, you can’t talk me out of it. Harry, let’s go.” Gid said simply, squeezing his hand as he began to walk out of the office, before he paused, turning back towards Max’s father. “Oh, and if I ever see your punk ass again, I’m gonna show you what a real fight is, and you’re not gonna like it.”

The other man paled a bit, pulling his son closer and nodding.

Harry had never seen anyone look so afraid of his dad before.

“Alright. Now we’re going.”

“Okay.” He said quietly, following his dad out of the office and up to the receptionist desk, where he was quickly signed out for the day, and then led out to the car, where Gid helped him into his seat before climbing in himself, driving away while angrily muttering to himself.

After a few minutes, he spoke up at a normal volume.

“...Where do you wanna go eat, Haz?”

“Uhm… A burger place?”

“Burger place it is.”

—

The two of them sat quietly in the back of McDonald’s, having grabbed a booth as far away from the other customers, and the workers, as possible. Neither one of them spoke as they ate, just… Taking bites, and ignoring the elephant in the room.

It took a moment for Harry to gather the courage to speak up again, but when he did, the only thing he could think to say was-

“I’m sorry.”

Which seemed to startle Gid out of his own mind, a chip dangling out of his mouth as he looked at his son, causing him to frown again. Once he swallowed his food, he spoke.

“Why are you sorry, bud?” He asked gently, wiping his mouth and fingers with a napkin.

“Because I got in trouble. I didn’t mean to get in a fight.” Harry said quietly, biting the inside of his cheek. “He just… He made me so angry, and… And he insulted you and Mum…”

“Oh, Haz…” Gid sighed, reaching out and ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad because you had to deal with that on your own, and none of your teachers helped. You’re seven years old, you shouldn’t be dealing with that crap.”

Harry nodded a bit, looking away as tears welled up in his eyes.

“...Why did you and Mum decide to adopt me..?” He murmured, turning back to his dad. “You never… You never actually told me why…”

The man paused for a moment, taking a sip of his drink as he visibly thought about what he wanted to say.

“Well… It’s a long story, bud, but…” Gid said softly. “But, I grew up in a group home, which is like a foster home but for a lot of kids. And it was rough. I… I was not a happy kid, like, at all, and… Well, when I grew up, and I met Mum, I was messed up. Like, bad. She helped get me back on the right track, and… Well, when we got married, I asked her if we could be foster parents. So we could help kids who were like me.”

Harry nodded a bit, listening intently as his dad spoke.

“So, when we met you, I was smitten. You just… You were so happy, and kind, and… And after everything you’d been through, baby, you just… Had this light in you. I wanted to protect it. I wanted to keep you safe, and Mum did too. So, that’s why we adopted you. We wanted to make sure you grew up happy, and safe, and because we fell in love with you that year we fostered you.”

“So…” He hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t adopt me because you felt bad for me..?”

“Not at all. We adopted you because we love you, and we wanted to do right by you, and give you the childhood I never got to have.”

“I love you guys too.”

Gid smiled, leaning over the table a bit to kiss the top of his son’s head.

“Alright… Now we just have to figure out how, exactly, to explain to Fiona that I just totally threatened to unenroll you from school.” He groaned. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“You dug your own grave, Dad.” Harry giggled, before his dad gently beaned him in the head with a chip. “Hey!”

“You’re the one who got into a fight, you gotta help. She’ll be less mad if it comes from you, and you know that.”

“...If I promise to help you, can we get milkshakes?”

Gid hummed thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, like he was really trying to decide if it was worth it.

“Hmmm… Yeah, why not.” He nodded, starting to scoot out of the booth to go up and order their desserts. “Chocolate or strawberry?”

“Chocolate with whipped cream and a cherry, please and thank you.”

“Aye aye, captain. And good manners.”

—

“So… That was why you went to homeschooling instead?” Theo asked, raising a brow as he popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, the two of them curled up in a blanket nest on the floor of Grimmauld Place’s drawing room, listening to some of the old records they found in Sirius’ childhood bedroom.

And, because a KISS record had found it's way into the mix, it made him start thinking about his Mum and Dad.

Which, of course, meant sharing stories about his childhood from before Theo got the chance to meet them.

“Yep.” Harry sighed. “I got in a fight, and Dad basically told everyone else to fuck off.”

“How pissed was Fiona?”

“Shockingly, not as angry as you would think. She was fine with me staying home and just doing those weekly tests, because it meant that they didn’t have to worry about me as much.”

“Huh… You really did luck out with your parents, you know that?”

He chuckled a bit, rolling onto his side and cupping his boyfriend’s cheek, pulling him down into a quick kiss.

“I’m a lucky bastard.” Harry murmured. “Always have been, I guess.”

Theo chuckled, pressing their foreheads together a bit and closing his eyes. “Ah… Yeah, you are. I can’t think of anyone else who gets involved in as much shit as you do and comes out of it in one piece.”

His hands gently slid to Harry’s arms, tracing the scars that cut across them with feather light touches as he leaned in for another kiss.

The other boy sighed happily, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and pulling him down with him. After a moment, Theo pulled back a bit, starting to kiss down Harry’s jaw, and down to his neck, biting down at the soft junction between his neck and collar bone, making him gasp a bit.

“Hey-” He muttered, sliding a hand into his boyfriend’s hair and tugging a bit, which only made Theo nip him again. “Mm… Really?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re such a brat, you know that?”

And although his boyfriend didn’t say anything else, Harry could feel the shit eating grin on his lips as he bit him once again.

He let his eyes fall closed, relaxing a bit and tilting his head to the side as a happy sigh escaped him.

That is, until he heard the familiar sound of the floo, and his eyes shot open, turning to look as Draco stepped out of the fireplace.

“Hey, guys! Come on, Mum wants you back at the house soon. We have some errands to-...” He trailed off as he entered the drawing room, pausing for a moment before a sigh escaped him. “...How do I keep managing to do this?”

Theo groaned, his forehead thudding against Harry’s chest.

“...Draco, you are the biggest cockblock in history, and I think I’m gonna smother you in your sleep…” He grumbled, a soft sigh escaping him when his boyfriend threaded his hands into his hair.

“Tell her we’ll be there in a few minutes, okay? We gotta finish up here.” Harry smiled a bit.

“Yeah, cool. Uh… I’m so sorry…”

“You’re fine. Just… See you in a few?”

“See you in a few.”

Draco disappeared back into the floo, and Theo sighed, sitting up again and running a hand through his hair.

“...We’re continuing that later, right? Because I wasn’t done. Not by a longshot.” He asked softly, and Harry looked him dead in the eyes.

“Duh. We’re going to your room as soon as we’re done with our errands.”

“Oh thank Merlin. Okay, let’s get this cleaned up…” He sighed in relief, starting to gather up the blankets so they could put them away, while Harry put their popcorn under a stasis charm and turned off the record player.

Once the drawing room was cleaned up again, the two of them straightened themselves out, before heading through the floo as well, stepping out into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor.

Their fun would have to be put on pause, but… It shouldn’t be too long before they could press play again.

Chapter Text

The halls of the manor were cold and low lit, making every inch of his body shiver as he looked around.

This place was evil. He could just… He could feel it. There was evil lurking in these walls, and it was all consuming.

And yet, as much as he wished to turn around and leave, Harry’s feet forced him forwards. They forced him forwards, and the more he walked, the more disgusted and terrified he became.

There was blood soaking the floor, like a body had been dragged from the entryway he had arrived in, and was taken up a flight of stairs, through the hall he was currently walking through, and to the door at the very end.

It was ajar, and there was light flickering from inside. Like the light from a fire.

Against his better judgement, he kept moving forward.

He didn’t want to keep moving forward.

He didn’t want to.

A voice hit his ears, then, mixed with the sound of ragged, painful breathing. One that sounded… Vaguely familiar.

“There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry.” It was steady and sure, a man’s voice, and he spoke so softly and reverently there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that this man really, truly did adore this… This Lord he spoke to.

“Later.” Sighed a second voice. This one also belonged to a man- But it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind that made Harry’s heart start to pound. “...Move me closer to the fire, Theron. I’m freezing.”

“Of course, My Lord.” The first man, Theron-

Theron. Theron Nott.

Theo’s father.

There was the sound of shuffling from within the room, like someone had just gotten up and was moving further away from the door, and Harry crept closer, peering in to see just what was happening.

Sure enough, it was Theron Nott, cradling a strange bundle before laying it in a plush chair next to the fire in the fireplace.

“Where is Nagini?” Asked the cold voice, which came from the bundle.

“Exploring the manor, My Lord. I will milk her later tonight, as you requested.” Theron said softly. “I can only imagine how much you will need to feed to regain your full strength…”

“Very good, Theron, very good… You are a loyal man, working tirelessly to bring me back to my former glory… Spending all these years searching for me, sacrificing the things that would normally matter most to a man… It brings me great joy to know that you still believe in our cause to your very core…”

“Thank you, My Lord. I deeply apologize that I was unable to provide you with a proper body, yet. This was all I could manage with what I had at my disposal, but… With any luck, we will find you a more suitable host body before the year is out.”

“Do not fret, my loyal servant… This body is just fine as I regain my strength… After all, it is far less suspicious if you become a recluse to care for what everyone believes to be your new heir, after the disgrace your last one brought upon you.”

Theron chuckled bitterly. “That brat… Too much like his mother, I fear.”

The bundle laughed. “Ah, yes… Strong willed women will give birth to strong willed children… That is the problem with them… But, you needn’t fret, Theron. We cannot act until after the World Cup anyway.”

“The World Cup, My Lord?”

“As of right now, the Ministry is on too high of guard, as the World Cup is taking place in a highly muggle populated area… However… As the Cup draws nearer… Wixen from all around the world are arriving… And it would be a perfect time to… Ah… Reconnect with our old friends… The ones who still lay in wait for my return to power…”

There was a moment of silence.

“...I see. A wonderful idea, My Lord. I will begin the preparations immediately, I swear to you.” Theron reassured him. “In the meantime… Can I get anything for you?”

“Yes.” The other voice said. “Remove Bertha from my sight… I grow weary of the sight of her… But do not disgrace her, for she sacrificed her child so I may have my new body… She was a foolish girl, but… Foolish girls have their uses…”

“Of course, My Lord.”

More shuffling came from within the room, and Harry stumbled back as Theron began to drag the body of a woman from the room, her belly cut open and allowing him to see the horrible, massacred mess within.

And then, the woman’s head turned, her face stained with blood and fresh tears, and Harry saw that she was still alive. The realization made him sick to his stomach.

This woman, Bertha, had been-

Before he could finish that thought, he watched, in horror, as Theron dragged her to the stairs and threw her down them, the sickening crunching of her broken body thudding down the steps, and then the landing at the very bottom, made bile rise in his throat.

So did her painful cries.

“Please-! Please, God- Kill me-” She begged, sobbing in agony as she lay in what Harry could only assume was a bloody pile at the base of the stairs.

He wanted to run to her.

To help her.

But, as Theron drew his wand, and cast a spell that had fallen so easily from Harry’s lips not even a week ago, he knew it was too late.

“Avada Kedavra-!”

—

Harry woke up screaming.

A raspy, startled shout ripping through his body as he sat straight up, his skin damp and sticky from sweat as his jaw popped from the force.

His chest heaved as a few tears slipped down his cheeks, and he quickly jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop himself from crying.

What the hell was that?

It felt so… It felt so real.

But it was just a dream. It had to be.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, before the other came up to cup his cheek, tilting his head towards his partner’s.

“Harry? Harry, baby, you with me?” Theo’s tired, yet gentle voice reached his ears after a moment, and he slowly nodded, pulling his hands away from his face and looking at him. “Okay… Okay, good… Hi, love… That was a bad nightmare…”

“Y-... Yeah… It was…” Harry rasped out, slumping against his boyfriend and shivering. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I know you didn’t, it’s okay… What happened, though? In your dream? You’ve never reacted so… Badly, before.”

He hesitated for a moment, the things he had seen in the dream already starting to fade from his mind.

Well, everything except that woman, Bertha.

Harry shuddered, shaking his head as the image of her flayed body, clinging to life and yet begging for death embedded itself in his mind, and bile rose in his throat again.

“... I… I don’t remember.” He lied quietly, his voice thick as he fought back the urge to vomit. “Just… It was bad…”

Theo’s eyes softened more, and he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him as close as he possibly could and kissing the top of his head.

“It’s alright, love… It was just a dream.” He murmured, and Harry nodded a bit, reaching up and starting to trace the winding scar on Theo’s arm, his eyes falling closed as he tried to calm himself down.

He hadn’t had nightmares that bad in years, not since his first few nights in foster care, and he really wanted to avoid having anything like that happen again in the future.

“Yeah… Yeah, just a dream.” He agreed, sighing a bit as he nuzzled Theo’s neck. “...I think I’m gonna go shower and get ready for the day…”

“You have plans?”

“I do, actually.” Harry smiled a bit, pulling away and sitting up. “It’s a surprise, though, so you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell a soul. What are you doing?”

“I… May or may not be doing some work on Grimmauld Place.”

“What kind of work?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

Theo huffed a bit, before a smile pulled at his lips. “Fine, fine… Keep your secrets. You’re terrible at it, and I’ll know what’s going on by the end of the week.”

Harry rolled his eyes, kissing his boyfriend quickly and rolling out of bed, running a hand through his hair as he headed towards the bathroom to go get ready. The comforting sounds of Theo getting settled back into bed made him relax as he summoned some clean clothes for the day before shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Washing the sweat off of his body and getting his hair clean made him feel better almost immediately, and he sighed in relief when he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself so he could finish getting ready, and listening to the soft background noise of his boyfriend snoring away in bed.

Theo’s snoring had been a new development, but Harry would be lying if he said it didn’t comfort him at least a little bit. Knowing that his boyfriend was alive, and breathing, was worth getting startled awake by a particularly loud snore every once in a while.

After he dressed, brushed his teeth, and ran a brush through his hair, he slipped back out of the bathroom, walking over to the bed and kissing his sleeping boyfriend’s forehead, watching as he smiled and nestled further into the covers before he quietly crept out of the room, heading down the stairs to greet Narcissa who, like every morning, was drinking her tea in the sitting room.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” He asked with a soft chuckle, causing her to look up with a slightly quirked up lip.

“I did, actually. Knowing that almost all of my kids were under one roof and safe was quite comforting for my mind.” Narcissa smiled. “Where are you off to this morning?”

“Grimmauld Place. I’m doing a bit of projecting.”

She tilted her head a bit, before a lightbulb seemingly went off. “Oh! You’re renovating?”

“I am. I want to add some extra rooms for everyone… I was even thinking of adding a grow room and a potions lab in the basement for Draco and Neville.” Harry hummed, tucking his wand into his thigh holster, starting to excitedly chatter about his plans. “And a library attached to Hermione’s room so she can always have her books nearby. Oh! And maybe even a creature corner for Daphne? Blaise would probably love a big, bay window with one of those alcoves he can sit in…”

“That sounds beautiful, Harry.”

“Doesn’t it? And I have a delivery coming today from Diagon Alley. I bought a bunch of new furniture so everyone’s rooms are put together when they’re ready. And some potion supplies and plants for the basement rooms, of course.”

Narcissa hummed in approval. “Where did this even come from, Harry? I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited about anything in a while.”

He paused, a slight blush rising on his cheeks as he looked away.

“Ah… I guess I just… Well…” Harry murmured, a sigh escaping him. “After everything that’s happened, I just… Well, I want to make sure that no matter where we are, no matter what happens… We always have somewhere safe to live. All of us.”

Her face softened a bit. “Oh, sweetheart… That’s so sweet of you… Thank you…”

“Of course, I just… You guys are my family. I want to protect you.”

“You’re doing plenty, love. You’re still just a boy.”

“Still.”

A small sigh escaped her as she stood, walking over to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re doing fine.” Narcissa whispered. “We love and appreciate everything you’re doing, but don’t stress yourself too much.”

“I can’t help it.” Harry sighed, squeezing her back. “I think stress is my natural state at this point.”

“Well, that sounds terrible.”

“It is.”

She sighed a bit, pulling away and kissing his forehead. “Well… I’ll keep everyone distracted for you, love. No need to have your concentration interrupted while you’re working.”

“Thanks, Narcissa. I’ll see you once I have everything done tonight!”

He grinned up at her, trotting over to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder as he stepped in, throwing it down and calling out for Grimmauld Place.

In a rush of green flames, he was there, stepping out of his own fireplace with a hum.

“Kreacher! I’m here!”

With a small pop, his beloved house elf appeared on the sofa next to him, reaching out and grabbing his hand with his small, wrinkled ones.

“Welcome home, Young Master. Is today the day?” He asked, tilting his head a bit.

“It is.” Harry grinned. “We’re expanding the house! Can you help?”

“Of course.” Kreacher grinned back. “Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black, and all those who his Master decree to be a part of the House.”

“Awesome. So… How do we do this?”

“Master Harry need only to communicate with the Noble House of Black, the way he did when he repaired the family tree. Kreacher will make sure he has snacks and drinks for his recovery, as it will take more magic to change the house than to fix the tree.”

Harry nodded a bit. “Thank you so much, Kreacher… Hey, that actually reminds me. I wanted to ask if you wanted your own room as well? I know you have your den in the kitchen, but… You’re a part of the family, and I don’t want to leave you out.”

Kreacher’s expression softened, and as he gently stepped off the couch, he patted the boy's hands.

“Master Harry is so very kind, but Kreacher does not need a room. If he would like, he can extend Kreacher’s den, but a whole room just for Kreacher is… Impractical, Master.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble…”

“House elves prefer enclosed spaces like Kreacher’s den. We are safe within them, and our Masters and Mistresses will protect us with their magic. And Master will always protect Kreacher?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he nodded emphatically. “Of course I will! Always and forever, Kreach.”

“Then Kreacher is perfectly happy with his den. Thank you, Master.”

“Well… Alright, if you’re sure.” He nodded a bit. “Thank you again, Kreacher. I’ll get started on the renovations, if you could keep an eye out for an owl delivery?”

Kreacher nodded, before he popped away to the kitchen to start preparing the snacks and drinks that Harry would need after wearing himself out with the magic needed for the changes to the house. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched his elf pop away, before he headed over to the family tree, humming a bit as he nodded at his extended family, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his pocket knife.

“Alright, Grimmauld…” He said softly, carefully cutting his hand open and pressing it against the tapestry, letting his magic flow through it and into the very house itself. “Let’s get to work…”

“What do you need from me, My Heir..?” Grimmauld Place replied, its own magic gently wrapping around his arm affectionately, greeting him with the same love it always did.

“We’re expanding the home, my friend. For more of our family to reside safely.”

“I see… Will you let me see what you have in mind..?”

“Of course. I trust you.”

“Wonderful… This will only take a moment…”

The magic that coiled around his arm slowly wrapped further and further up, loosely wrapping around his neck and sinking into his skin. There was a brief flash of pain as their minds connected, and his vision went white as the house’s magic took what it needed to take.

“Yes… I can work with this. Give me a moment, My Heir.”

And, before he could reply, it was like all of the air had been knocked from his chest, and he stumbled back, collapsing into a plush chair as his vision went dark, the sounds of the house shifting around him lulling him into unconsciousness.

—

The feeling of a cool cloth on the back of his neck, and small hands gently dabbing at his nose and mouth were what brought Harry back to reality.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, a soft groan escaping him as he sat up, and Kreacher stepped back, holding a damp, bloody cloth as he looked up at the boy with wide, terrified eyes.

“Is Master Harry feeling alright? Kreacher was very worried…” He said softly, his voice holding a wobble to it that was unnatural for the elderly elf. “When he came and found Master after he fainted, there was blood all over his face…”

“I was bleeding..?” Harry asked softly, bringing a hand up to his nose and flinching at the warm wetness. “Gah… I am… Shit, Kreacher, I’m so sorry-”

“Don't be sorry, Master. Kreacher is here to help.” The elf shook his head, snapping his fingers and cleaning the blood from the cloth before handing it to Harry so he could clean his face.

“Did it work?”

“It did. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black now has many extra rooms. They are not furnished yet, but Master Harry’s furniture order arrived.”

“It did? Oh thank goodness…” Harry sighed in relief, cleaning his face up the rest of the way as he pushed himself up to his feet, a soft groan escaping him as he closed his eyes, pressing the cloth against his forehead. “Ow…”

“Master needs to rest more.” Kreacher chided gently.

“I’ll be alright. I wanna go check out all the rooms.”

The elf frowned, but nodded vaguely, grabbing Harry’s hand to help guide him up the stairs.

Once they made it up, his eyes widened when he realized just how long the second floor corridor had become.

“Oh wow… How many rooms did I add?”

“Eleven, Master Harry.”

“Eleven..? I only meant to add eight…”

“The basement rooms.”

“Oh- oh! It added the basement rooms too? Oh, that's brilliant! Can we check those out next?”

Kreacher nodded, and Harry beamed at him, letting the elf lead him down the hall and into each of the rooms one by one.

Hermione's bedroom was up first, and the only reason he knew that?

The walls were red.

A desaturated red, but still red.

His inner Slytherin was absolutely furious with him for that, but, his sister was a Gryffindor.

He couldn't deny her that comfort.

The furthest wall to the left was completely covered by a dark mahogany bookshelf, which already had plenty of books stocked into it. The floor was a plus carpet that he knew she would enjoy as well, and that he was excited to add rugs to.

Plus, if everything went to plan, she'd be able to decorate her own room very, very soon.

Draco’s bedroom was across the hall, painted a dark green, and with heavily tinted windows to keep the light out. There was a cutout nook in the corner, and a few potions shelves so he could keep some of his experiments up in his space as well. He did, however, create a potions lab for him in the basement, so they didn't have to worry about accidental potion explosions.

Luna's room was on that level as well, painted a vibrant teal, and with hardwood floors instead of carpet. Stained glass windows created rainbows on the walls and floor, and Harry could already picture the decorations she was going to hang up, along with the round canopy bed he had bought her pushed into the corner to make as much room as possible for her mysterious Luna Activities.

The next level had his, Daphne, Neville, and Blaise’s rooms, which were all laid out fairly similarly to Hermione's, although theirs were painted in various shades of green, teal, and yellow.

Blaise had a large, bay window that had a seating alcove built into it, so he could sit there and just… Think, which he did quite a bit.

Daphne's room had a large skylight that could open and close, which he knew she would enjoy that way the owls could flutter in and out whenever they felt like it.

His, and, well, Theo’s room, was larger than the others, as it was made for two people, and was much darker than the other rooms, not letting in much natural light. Multiple bookshelves lined the walls, with many of the Grimmauld Place library books having been moved into the shelves, so they were easily accessible to him and his boyfriend.

Neville’s pale yellow room was, shockingly, one of the darkest rooms in the house, and it was only because his friend enjoyed the ability to basically go into a cave after a day working with his plants.

And Harry understood.

Sometimes, he too wanted to hide in a cave.

It seemed nice.

Harry sighed in relief when he realized that everything was the way it was supposed to be, and he ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at Kreacher.

“It's perfect.” He said softly. “Everything turned out perfect.”

“Kreacher has already checked over the potions lab and the grow room for Young Masters Draco and Neville.” The elf next to him said softly. “As well as the… Strange chamber you created down there as well…”

Ah, Harry had forgotten about that one.

“Right… Kreacher, I almost forgot to tell you.” He bit his lip, kneeling down to the elf’s height to speak to him properly. “Remember my friend I’ve told you about, Hermione?”

“Yes. That mu-” Kreacher paused, shaking his head. “Muggleborn girl who Master considers his sister?”

“Yeah. She, ah… She was bitten by a werewolf, and… That extra chamber is for her. If she comes here.”

The elf’s eyes widened a bit, and he went pale.

“Master’s dear sister was infected?”

“She was, but she’ll be okay, and she won't hurt anyone. I promise.”

“If Missy ‘Mionie comes here, Kreacher will be sure to keep extra red meat.”

Harry paused, raising a brow. “You're… Not disturbed?”

“Why would Kreacher be disturbed? Missy ‘Mionie is beloved by Master Harry, so Kreacher will treat her like family as well. Just like the rest of Master Harry’s coven.”

He sighed in relief, leaning down a bit and kissing his forehead. “You're brilliant, Kreacher. I absolutely love you.”

Kreacher's eyes widened a bit, and a small smile formed on his face.

“Kreacher loves Master Harry as well. Very much. He is so very glad to have such a kind and gentle Master…”

Harry chuckled, hugging him quickly before pulling away.

“So… Wanna help me get everyone's rooms set up?”

“Of course, Master. Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black.”

“You’re the best, Kreach. Thank you so much.

—

Getting the new bedrooms in Grimmauld Place furnished and set up was, actually more labor intensive than Harry had expected, mostly because he hadn’t realized just how much doing magic was going to drain him after actually doing the renovations. Hell, Kreacher had to set up most of the furniture himself, which had made him feel terrible, and he repeatedly apologized to the elf for that fact.

Kreacher, of course, brushed off his apologies and happily put everything together, snapping his fingers and levitating things about to put them in the correct spots under Harry’s watchful eye, and by the time eight o’ clock rolled around, everything had been set up.

And, Harry had splurged a bit on the furnishings.

He had more than enough money in his vaults to last him for ten lifetimes. He could get the fancy, comfy furniture if he so desired.

Reading nooks, plush chairs, soft mattresses, silk sheets… Everything about the room's furniture was handpicked and specially made, and he honestly couldn’t be prouder.

Now that it was done, though, Harry had one more thing to do.

“Kreacher? Can you come here for a second?” He called up the stairs, listening to one of the chairs he had bought for Daphne’s bedroom softly thunk on the floor before his elf appeared at his side, his ears lifted in curiosity.

“What does Master need from Kreacher?” He asked.

“I know that giving house elves clothes is freeing them, which is why I’m not… Giving this to you. But! I may or may not have just so happened to have… Ah… Shrank, yes, shrank, a few of these sweaters!” Harry said with an overly exaggerated voice, gesturing to the small pile of folded sweaters he had placed on the counter, knowing full well that he bought these sweaters for the elf in question. “And I also noticed that, well, it can get rather cold in the house at times, and you only have your pillowcase to keep you warm…”

“So these sweaters are totally not for you, Kreacher. They are, however, sitting here on the counter, and you can do whatever you want with them!”

He and Kreacher stared at each other for a moment, visibly sizing each other up for a moment, before Kreacher nodded slowly.

“...These sweaters are not to free Kreacher from serving Master Harry?”

“Nope. It just so happens that I have left these sweaters here on the counter, and they are just… Sitting here. On the counter.”

The elf narrowed his eyes slowly, and Harry stepped further away from the counter and turned around, sticking his hand in his pockets.

He began to whistle, waiting to hear the soft shuffling of feet, but was suddenly surprised by the feeling of little arms wrapping around his legs, and he turned around to look at him, his eyes lighting up when he saw that Kreacher was wearing one of the soft, green sweaters.

“...They are very nice, Master Harry. Thank you.” The elf said quietly, and Harry kneeled down, wrapping his arms around him as well and squeezing him a bit.

“You’re welcome, Kreacher. You work really hard, and I want you to have nice things too.”

“You are a very clever wizard, Master Harry.”

“I try.” He chuckled, pulling away and running a hand through his hair. “I should head back to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa will get worried if I don’t come back tonight, and I don’t think either one of us want her to come flying through the floo in a panic.”

“Miss Cissy is a very kind witch, her worry is warranted with how much trouble you get in.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“See you tomorrow morning, Master Harry. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Kreacher.”

Harry hummed, standing up and flicking his wrists to gather his things, making his way back to the drawing room and stepping through the floo with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat.

At the back of his mind, however, he still had the strange sense that there was something deeply wrong, and now that he was no longer hyper focused on getting the Grimmauld Place bedrooms put together, it was bothering him more than it did this morning.

He could barely remember his dream, but he could still picture Bertha in his mind.

He’d never seen her before, but… She was so familiar.

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he looked at the counter, grabbing the plate of food that had obviously been placed under a stasis charm for him, and studying the steak that had been placed on his plate with a bit of a grimace, cutting a bite off and popping it into his mouth before it fell right back out.

After shuddering, and having to step away to try and wiggle the disgust out of his body, he moved back to his plate, pushing the steak away from the rest of his food so he could eat without it touching the rest of what was on his plate.

…Maybe red meat wasn’t such a good idea tonight.

Chapter Text

Dear Hermione,

How are you settling in at home? I hope that your scars aren’t bothering you too much, and that you’re able to get a bit of rest before the full moon comes. I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now.

I understand if you don’t feel up to it, or you’re just busy and don’t have the time, but I wanted to invite you over to Grimmauld Place for the weekend. I have a gift for you, and I can’t exactly send it in a parcel, unfortunately.

But, either way, if you’re not able to visit, just let me know! We can set up a time later on, you’re always welcome here at Grimmauld, or at Malfoy Manor.

Hope to see you soon!

Harry

P.S. Kreacher asked me to ask you what some of your favorite foods are, so he can make sure that we have them in stock when you come by. So, if you get a chance, could you send Hedwig back with a little list? Thank you!

—

Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes as she read the letter that Harry had sent her, looking over at the snowy owl who was perched up on her bedside table. She hesitantly reached out, gently scratching underneath the bird’s chin, and she responded by nibbling her fingers.

“...Harry really is a sweetheart sometimes, huh?” She asked Hedwig, running a hand through her hair as she set the letter down on her bed, staring down at her feet with a strange, almost numbing sensation coursing through her veins.

Ever since she’d come home five days ago, and Headmistress McGonagall had explained everything about her new status as a werewolf to her parents, the air had been tense in the Granger house.

Her mum had been crying nonstop, horrified by the fact that her daughter had been nearly murdered, and would now have to go through an agonizing transformation every month, and that there was no cure for her condition.

Her dad had been worse, somehow, angrily pacing through the house and muttering about how she wasn’t going back to Hogwarts, that they would find a way to fix her and make sure she didn’t have to go through the transformation at all costs.

But Hermione knew that it was fruitless.

She’d marked out every full moon on her calendar for the year, and she knew that her first transformation would be on July 23rd. It was going to happen, whether she wanted it to or not.

And, truth be told, she was terrified. Any sane person would be.

As an attempt to help explain what was going to happen, Headmistress McGonagall had provided her with all sorts of literature that went over the transformation, and what she would be experiencing. Instead of reassuring her, or giving her any level of comfort because she now knew what she would be going through, it just scared the hell out of her.

If she didn’t have a wolfsbane potion in her system, she would be no better than a rabid dog, and she would attack anyone and everyone who got in her way, no matter who they were.

And, because of the fact that her parents were so distraught about what had happened, they hadn’t been helping her clear out the crawl space so she could have somewhere safe and secure to transform.

It wasn’t something that she could just… Pretend wasn’t happening.

It was July Sixth. In seventeen days, she would be turning into a bloody werewolf, and she needed to be somewhere safe to do so.

She shook her head firmly, her eyes narrowing in determination as she stood up and walked over to her school bag, digging around in it until she found the piece of parchment that Harry had given her on their last day of school, the one that detailed the addresses of some of the safehouses she could go to.

And there, right on top, was Grimmauld Place, located in Islington.

About an hour away by train, if she remembered correctly.

She quickly made her way over to her desk, grabbing a piece of loose leaf paper from the drawer and scribbling down a quick note.

-

Harry,

Last minute. I’m coming to Grimmauld to stay for a while.

I hope you don’t mind.

Love,

Hermione

-

Once she had the note written out, she looked back over at Hedwig, smiling a bit at the owl and walking over to her, scratching under her beak again.

“Okay, pretty girl… I know it’s really last minute, but… I need you to take this to Harry for me, okay?” Hermione whispered, rolling up the note and tying it to the owl’s foot. Hedwig hooted, gently nibbling her hair and bumping their heads together, like she was trying to reassure the girl, before she took off out the open window again, flying away as quickly as she could.

Hermione sighed a bit, her shoulders slumping as the reality of what she was planning to do settled in. She let her eyes flick around the room, before they landed on the purple, beaded bag that she’d purchased the year before so she could carry around any necessary potions during the Dementor’s occupation of Hogwarts.

She picked it up immediately, quickly reorganizing the potions within, before she began to pack up her valuable items. Clothes, books, pictures… Anything she could think of that she would want to bring with her.

She was interrupted, however, by her mum knocking on the door.

“Hermione? Sweetheart?” She asked, causing Hermione to quickly shove her bag under her bed and make her way over to the door, opening it a bit and looking up at her parents, who had matching, worried smiles on their faces. “Hi, baby… How are you feeling?”

“Huh? Oh- uh… I’m alright, Mum.” She smiled a bit.

“Are you sure?” Her dad asked worriedly. “Listen… I know that we’ve been… Well, your mother and I haven’t been the most reasonable of people the last few days. We just… We wanted to make sure that we didn’t frighten you. Or upset you. We aren’t angry with you, you know, we’re just… We’re angry that this happened to you.”

Hermione shook her head.

“No, no… It’s… Everything’s fine… I just, ah…” She hesitated for a moment. “Harry just invited me out for the afternoon. He’s worried about me, and said that he and the rest of our friends are going to be watching some films, and asked if I wanted to come.”

Her parents visibly relaxed at that, and guilt panged in her chest.

“Oh, well… That’s good. That’s very good.” Her mum sighed in relief, reaching into her pockets and grabbing her wallet, taking out some money and handing it to her. “Here. In case you decide to go and get something to eat.”

A small smile wormed its way onto Hermione’s face at that, and she wrapped her arms around her parents in a tight hug, burying her face into them and taking a slow, deep breath. They hugged her back just as tightly, and although they didn’t know that she was giving them a goodbye hug, it still felt like they knew what was about to happen.

“Be safe, Hermione.” Her dad said gently. “We have to go to the office for a little bit, so we might not be here when you leave. Remember to lock up, and ring us if you’re going to be spending the night, okay?”

“I will, Dad. I love you.”

“We love you too, babygirl…”

They pulled away after a moment, and after exchanging a few more ‘I love you’s and kisses, they made their way back down the stairs.

She didn’t move again until she heard the sound of the car starting and pulling out of the driveway, which is when she made her way back over to her bed and grabbed her bag once again, tucking the money her mum had given her into her back pocket.

Hermione loaded a few more books, some more of her clothes, and a few other keepsakes and photos that she wanted to keep with her when she left, into the bag, silently thanking her past self for being so insistent on learning the Expansion Charm.

After a moment's hesitation, she reached back under her bed, grabbing the sheathed hunting knife that she kept underneath and sliding it into her bag as well. Her father had bought it for her as a birthday present three years ago, just in case she needed to defend herself. She had stuck it under her bed because she truthfully had never thought she would need it, but…

Well, circumstances change, and sometimes you need a, as Harry would put it, massive fucking knife.

“Crookshanks!” She called out, looking around the room as she grabbed her cat’s carrier, tucking his food into her bag as well as her beloved kitty trotted into the room, purring loudly as he rubbed up against her legs, his bottlebrush tail flicking back and forth. “Hi, baby boy…”

Hermione knelt down, running her hands over his fur for a moment before she helped him into the carrier, sticking some of his toys and his favorite blanket into it before she locked it. Crookshanks meowed in confusion, but got settled in easily, his tail curling up around his face as he continued to purr.

“Good boy.” She whispered, pulling her purse over her shoulder and picking his carrier up.

After giving her bedroom one final once over, Hermione took a deep breath. This would likely be the last time she’ll ever live in this house, the last time she’ll see this bedroom…

It was bittersweet. It was painful, a strange sort of agony that didn’t have a name.

But, at the same time, she couldn’t stay in it for much longer.

She was facing down a fork in the road. One path would surely lead to the death of all that she has ever loved by her own hands, and the other would let them live just a little bit longer.

And, without another moment of hesitation, she walked out of the room, heading down the stairs and out the front door as tears welled up in her eyes, making sure to lock it behind her before she set off towards the train station.

She knew which path she had to take.

—

“Hermione!”

Harry’s voice hit her ears long before she was actually able to see him, the pouring rain that pounded down around them obscuring her vision and making it that much harder to get around. Before she could turn towards the direction the voice was coming from, two strong arms had wrapped themselves around her, and the sweet scent of his damp hoodie, mixed with dusty old books and something a bit vanilla-ish flooded her senses.

She flung her free arm around him, sniffling a bit as he held an umbrella over them both, keeping her face buried in his shoulder.

“Thank god you’re alright. Your note scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?” He fussed gently, pulling away and starting to check her over. “Not that I’m upset about it, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you to come by right away. What happened?”

“C-can we get inside first? I’m f-f-freezing.” She hiccupped, and Harry’s gaze softened. He nodded quickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and keeping the umbrella over her as he rushed her forward.

Almost immediately, he turned, leading her up a set of stairs that she hadn’t noticed before, and pulled her into a warm, musty smelling house.

“There we go…” He said softly, helping her out of her sopping sweater and hanging it up as he, too, stripped out of his hoodie. “Do you want some cocoa? Something to eat?”

“Please..?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Kreacher! Could you make us some cocoa, please? And maybe get some of those biscuits, the butter ones? Come on, come sit in the drawing room. It’s the warmest part of the house.”

Harry gently led her further into the house, and while Hermione didn’t have much of a chance to study her surroundings, she could tell that the house was very, very old, but well maintained. It was clean, and tidy, but there was a lingering sense of rot to it, like many, many things had died within its walls.

She was gently pushed into a chair, and a drying charm was cast on the rest of her clothes, although Harry didn’t have his wand in his hand. She didn’t question it, though, as he immediately got to work making her comfortable.

More wood added to the fire, Crookshanks being set free and placed into her lap, a blanket being slipped under her cat and over her legs as well, and then a mug of steaming, dark hot cocoa, with marshmallows floating on top was being pushed into her hands by a small, wrinkly, elf like creature with massive ears.

She stared at him in shock for a moment, before he bowed politely.

“The name be Kreacher, Missy ‘Mionie. Master Harry’s house elf, and the house elf of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.” Kreacher said, standing up and smoothing out his green, chunky-knit sweater. “If you need anything, simply ask.”

“Thank you so much, Kreacher.” Harry said softly, pouring the elf a mug of cocoa from the teapot as well and handing it to him. “Come sit by the fire. It’s too cold and wet outside to be doing much today.”

The elf hummed, pulling himself up onto a plush ottoman and sipping his cocoa, taking the plate of butter biscuits that Harry handed him with a soft nod, before the boy turned back towards Hermione, his eyes alight with worry.

“What happened, ‘Mionie? You’re more than welcome to stay here, I just… I want to know that you’re okay, and…” He said softly, trailing off as he waited for her to respond.

It took Hermione a moment to find the right words, but, once she did, she began to speak.

“...Mum and Dad aren’t reacting to the whole werewolf thing well… They’re both convinced that there’s something we can do to stop the transformation, but…” She sighed, dipping one of the biscuits into her cocoa and nibbling it. “And because of that, they haven’t been… I wanted to clear out the crawlspace, that way I had somewhere safe to transform, but neither one of them would help me. Then, I think I just started spiraling from there…”

“You’re scared that you’ll hurt them when you turn.” Harry said softly, his eyes full of sympathy. She nodded a bit in response, looking away.

“Yeah… I don’t… I don’t want to risk it. Even if I have the wolfsbane potion in my system, what if I… I don’t know, get scared and lash out?”

“I get it.”

Hermione chuckled a bit, looking back over at him, and startling for a moment at the grim expression on his face. She tilted her head a bit.

“...You do?”

He nodded slightly, a sigh escaping him.

“I mean, maybe not in the way you’re thinking, but…” Harry paused, his head bobbing back and forth as he tried to figure out his words, biting his lip before he spoke again. “I’ve had… A rough couple of years. It’s… It’s messed me up a bit, and… And I don’t react to things normally anymore. I’m impulsive, I’m… I’m violent. Even when I don’t mean to be. I’m scared that one of these days I’m going to end up hurting someone I love in the crossfire.”

“I mean, shit, I nearly got you all killed a little over a week ago because I ran off like an idiot. You and Daphne both got attacked by Lupin because of me.”

“Harry…” Hermione sighed, before a frown formed on her face. “Wait, Daphne was bit too?”

“No, she didn’t get bit, but… He cut her leg up pretty good. I know she’s not going to transform on the full moon, but… She’s gonna have some wolfish tendencies now, from what I know.”

“Yeah… I read that stuff too… Hopefully she doesn’t get it too badly.” Her frown deepened as she shook her head. “That sucks. A lot.”

“Doesn’t it?” Harry chuckled sadly, a sigh escaping him. “...It’s, honestly part of the reason I did this. I wanted to make sure everybody had somewhere safe that they could go, that way if…”

“...Wanna come see your room?” He decided to say, looking over at her.

“My room? You set a room up for me?”

“Of course I did. You’re my sister.” He scoffed. “I set it up with everyone else’s. I even have a safe spot for you to transform in the basement in case you came to stay with us. Finish your cocoa and biscuits and I’ll take you upstairs.”

Hermione laughed a bit, quickly draining the rest of her mug and shoving a few biscuits into her mouth, quietly thanking Kreacher for his help as she stood up, pulling Crookshanks up into her arms and following Harry up the stairs.

He opened the first door on the left for her, and held his arm out like he was a butler escorting her inside. Playing along, she curtseyed, and then slipped into the bedroom, a soft gasp escaping her.

It was simple, and clean, and there was enough space for her to fill it up with her own furniture and decorations, but the furniture that was within it already was absolutely beautiful.

A large, circular bed sat atop an antique mahogany bed frame, which had a grey and black comforter on top, as well as what looked to be black silk sheets upon it. The walls were a dark maroon, which matched the maroon canopy atop the bed, and the rest of the furniture matched with the bed frame, like the dresser and the desk.

But, her favorite part of the room was the bookshelf that took up an entire wall, and, which was already partially filled.

“I wanted to make sure you had space for all of your books and knickknacks.” Harry said with a small smile. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, Harry…” She whispered, before looking back at him with a teasing grin. “How much did it pain you to make it so Gryffindor-y in here?”

“Nearly killed me.” He sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his forehead before cracking a smile. “I’m glad you like it, though… Uh… Want me to give you some time to get settled in?”

“If you could?”

“Of course. Oh! That door next to your dresser? That’s your bathroom. Everyone has their own personal bathroom, because honestly, sharing drives me nuts, and the only reason I’m fine sharing with Theo is because that’s my boyfriend.”

She blinked in surprise. “You share a room?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for months, honestly.”

“Huh… I thought that wouldn’t have been allowed. For like, propriety reasons.”

“Well. I’m an orphan, twice over, actually, and he’s as good as, so…”

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide as she fought back a startled giggle. He grinned at that, his face lighting up.

“Sorry, sorry, I have to joke about it sometimes or else I’m just gonna be depressed.” He snickered. “In all seriousness, though, I think we’re just co-dependent, because I sleep like shit when I’m not in bed with him, and so does he.”

“You’re like an old married couple!”

“We totally are. I love him.”

She smiled softly, setting Crookshanks down to let him explore their new bedroom, and walked over to Harry, hugging him tightly. His arms squeezed her around the waist and he tucked his face into her shoulder, a happy sigh escaping him.

“...Not to be selfish, but… I’m glad you’re here.” Harry murmured softly. “It makes me feel better knowing you’re nearby…”

“Thank you for letting me come here.” She replied just as softly.

“Always.”

He pulled away carefully, smiling at her. “Now. You get settled in, and I’ll come and get you at like… Six thirty for dinner, okay?”

“Oh! Okay, what are we doing for dinner?”

“We’re going to Mrs. Zabini’s birthday dinner at the Villa tonight, actually! And before you panic, don’t worry, she’s going to be excited to finally have you over. Oh! And don't worry! You don't need to dress fancy! It's all very casual! We're having a clam bake at the beach!”

Hermione’s eyes were wide, but, she didn’t have any time to ask him any more questions, as Harry just smiled at her, reminded her that he’ll be back up at six thirty, and then disappeared from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he went back down the stairs.

She looked over at Crookshanks who, in true cat fashion, had made himself perfectly at home on her nice silk pillow, and sighed, smiling a bit.

“Well… Welcome home, Crookshanks.” She said softly, walking over and setting her bag on the bed, starting to unpack it. “I hope you like it here.”

He meowed back at her, settling into his spot and purring loudly, his tail curling up around him as he watched his human move back and forth, folding clothes and placing them in her dresser, and putting her books away.

This was home, now.

It would take a bit of adjustment, but… It was safe here. They were home.

And, from what Harry said, she was already very much welcomed by his odd little family.

…It was strange, being accepted so readily, even after being turned into a werewolf.

Hell, especially after being turned into a werewolf.

But Hermione had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and although she still didn’t quite understand wix and their culture, she knew this one specific thing.

She was loved, safe, and accepted when she was with Harry and their friends, and that was something she had only ever experienced when she was with her parents. Now that she’d left that behind, this was her family now.

They were her… Well. They were her pack.

A small smile pulled at her lips, and she ran her tongue against her slightly sharpened canines as a happy hum escaped her.

Yeah, her pack. She liked the sound of that.

Chapter Text

Over the next week, the rest of the coven slowly made their way back to Malfoy Manor and Grimmauld Place, setting their belongings up in both houses and bouncing in between them whenever they felt like it.

Truth be told, with the floo system, they really did just kinda bounce between houses, because there really wasn’t anything to stop them from doing so.

Hermione was easily swept into their daily activities, joining them all for meals, for reading time, and for the occasional cuddle nest on the floor where everyone was scrunched up and eating snacks.

It was, honestly, heaven.

And Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long, long time. The comfort of having his family so close helped soothe the anxiety he felt in his chest, and, oftentimes, helped him sleep better.

Although, his nightmares were becoming more frequent, and they were starting to worry him more and more.

Flashes of a giant snake, coiling around a chair that held the strange bundle he had seen in his first dream.

A man who looked uncomfortably similar to Theo’s father, Theron, constantly caring for and feeding the bundle, almost like an obsession, before he went back to writing letters and meeting with other men.

And, of course, there were the bodies.

Countless bodies, most of them muggle, if Theron was to be believed, being fed to that fucking snake whenever it so desired.

Men, women, children, all swallowed without a second thought to the fact that they were human, that they were innocent, simply being killed because they were muggle, and therefore, useless.

It was making him sick, causing him to lose his dinner almost every morning, sobbing and heaving over the toilet while any number of his friends tried to figure out what had happened, what he had seen, and if he was alright.

After four days of this, and Harry honestly starting to dread going to sleep at night, he decided that he really, really needed to talk to someone about what he was seeing.

Which, was why he had gone to track down Narcissa one early morning, knowing that she would be awake, and likely out in the garden.

When he spotted her familiar blonde hair, he sighed in relief, making his way over to her and sitting at the seat next to hers, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at her.

“...Can I talk to you about something? Please?” He asked softly, and, before he could say anything else, she spoke up.

“Your nightmares are getting worse?”

Harry blinked in surprise for a moment. “...How do you..?”

“Darling. You think anything happens in my home without me knowing about it?” Narcissa raised a brow, looking at him as she sipped her tea. “I know you’ve been having horrible dreams, but you won’t tell anyone what’s happening in them, and it’s been making you sick every single morning since they’ve started.”

“Huh… Did someone tell you?”

“Teeky did.”

“Oh, that makes sense… I’ve been wondering who keeps leaving glasses of cool water for me in the mornings.”

She chuckled a bit, pouring him a cup of tea and sliding it over to him, which he gratefully accepted, taking a few sips of it so he could relax a bit. They sat in silence for a few moments, looking out at the sunny garden and relishing in the sense of peace that the place held, before he found the strength to speak up again.

“...I see people die in my nightmares.” Harry said quietly, causing Narcissa to turn and look at him. “Nobody I know, but… People. Muggles, usually, being murdered and fed to a giant snake. Like, it almost looks like a giant, reticulated python? But it has fangs? I don’t know, but it’s… It’s a massive snake, and it eats these people. Full grown people, and… It freaks me out, really, really bad…”

He didn’t see the way her face paled, or how her knuckles went white as she clenched her teacup.

He didn’t see the recognition in her eyes at what he had described.

The complete and utter terror that gripped her in that moment.

“...And… And do you see people in them as well?” Narcissa whispered, still clutching her teacup. “Anyone specific..?”

“Yeah, uh… I think it’s Theo’s father, Theron, and someone else, but I really don’t know who? He has a hand, though, so I’m not… It could be a prosthetic. Do wixen make prosthetics? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one…”

“We do make prosthetics, yes.”

“Oh, so, it is probably him then. Ugh…”

“Harry, do these… How realistic do you say these dreams feel?”

He hesitated for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “...It’s like I’m there. It’s like I’m… I’m standing right there, watching it happen.”

Narcissa nodded grimly, and she sighed. “Well… Harry, if you don’t mind, you may need to cancel any plans you made for the day. I want to take you to Gringotts.”

Harry blinked, looking over at her with an arched brow.

“Gringotts’ healers are some of the best in the world.” She explained simply. “Goblins have a unique way of practicing their magic, and their healers often specialize in mind magics. I just… Would like them to take a look at you.”

“Oh, so… They’re like neurologists?”

“What’s a neurologist?”

“A muggle brain doctor. They use these big machines to look at your brain to see if you have, like, a tumor or other injuries.”

“...Then, yes. We’re going to go see Goblin Neurologists. Wear comfortable clothes, darling, alright?”

Harry nodded, draining his tea and standing up. “I’ll go and get ready, then.”

He quickly walked around the table, pressing a quick kiss to Narcissa’s cheek before he headed back inside, being careful to go up the stairs as quietly, and quickly, as possible, so he could avoid waking anyone else up.

When he went back into his room, he hummed a bit, climbing up and into the bed to press a kiss to Theo’s forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart… Can you wake up for a second..?” He whispered, watching with a small smile as his boyfriend stirred, bleary blue eyes looking up at him with a sleepy grin.

“Hi…”

“Hi, baby… I hate to do this when you’re so sleepy, but, I have to go see a neurologist today.” Harry hummed. “So I have to cancel our lunch date. We can do it tomorrow, though, okay?”

“Mkay… Let’s do it tomorrow…” Theo hummed in response, snuggling back into the bed. “...You gonna be okay..?”

“I’ll be totally fine. I’m going with Narcissa.”

“Oh, yeah… You’ll be fine…”

“I love you, Theo.”

“I love you too, Harry…” He murmured, starting to doze off once again as his boyfriend slid out of the bed, walking over to their dresser to pick out his clothes for the day and getting changed.

After pulling on his leather jacket, and tapping it to make sure the pack of cigarettes and lighter were still inside- he had never touched the pack beyond patting it every once in a while, because he didn’t want to start smoking, but having that piece of his Dad with him whenever he was nervous certainly made him feel better- he grabbed his bag and headed back down the stairs, where he paused, listening to Narcissa and Lucius’ quiet, frantic conversation.

“-ust me on this, Lucius. Any invitations you get from Theron Nott for anything, disregard them. I don’t care what they are.”

“Cissa, my love, as if I would touch that man with a sixty-five foot pole. He’s a monster.”

Narcissa let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and annoyance all at once.

“Still. Harry’s dreams mean something. He saw Nagini, love. That’s not… That’s not good.”

“I know it’s not good.” Lucius replied, his voice becoming softer. “And believe me. I have separated myself from that crowd as much as I possibly can. I have no intentions of ever going back to that life, or that rotten bastard, ever again.

“Good… I just… I can’t risk it. I’m taking Harry to Gringotts to see if they can help him.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you want me to come?”

“No, no… Stay with the kids. I don’t want them to panic if all three of us are gone.”

“Alright, love.”

Harry carefully padded back up the stairs, before he made his way back down harder than before, almost stomping on them to make his presence known. The two adults looked up with soft smiles, like they hadn’t just been having a serious conversation.

“Hello, Harry. Ready to go?” Narcissa smiled.

“Yep. I told Theo that we were going to a neurologist. I suspect we have… Fourty-five minutes until he wakes up and remembers what a neurologist is.” He hummed.

“Well, then. You have your warning, Lucius. Fourty-five minutes until the first panicked teenager is up on their feet.” She laughed a bit, before she kissed her husband’s cheek and smiled. “We’ll be back as soon as we’re done, but depending on the time, we may stop and get something to eat.”

“Alright, you two.” Lucius chuckled, kissing Narcissa’s forehead before he leaned down and kissed the top of Harry’s head, making the boy splutter and blush a bright red. “Be safe. I’ll see you when you get back home.”

After another moment of farewells, Harry and Narcissa made their way to the sitting room, deciding to floo into The Leaky Cauldron to get to the bank as easily as they could, instead of trying to get in through the muggle entrance.

Stepping out into the still quiet main street was a surreal experience because, usually, Diagon Alley was a mess to get through. Today, however, there were only a few early morning shoppers, so the two of them were able to make their way up to Gringotts without any issues.

Once they had gone through the front entrance and up to the main counter, Narcissa politely cleared her throat, drawing the goblin’s attention towards her.

“Lady Malfoy. What can we do for you today?” The goblin asked, and she smiled.

“I would like to request that my charge, Heir Hartford, be seen by a team of Gringotts Healers. I have reason to believe that he may be affected by a rare form of dark magic.”

Harry paused, looking at her in confusion. Dark magic? What did she mean by that?

The goblin looked equally as confused.

“What kind of dark magic do you suspect, Lady Malfoy?”

“A Horcrux.”

And within the horrified silence that filled the air after her words, Harry was fairly certain that everyone in the room could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

…What the fuck was a Horcrux?

—

A Horcrux.

A type of dark magic that, upon completing a specific ritual, allows a wix to take a piece of their soul and place it into an object, giving them the ability to live beyond death by taking the life of another person and placing a shard of their soul into a container of sorts.

It was a form of immortality that very, very few wix would ever use, because of the complexities and pain that must be caused to do it.

And Harry has one in his forehead, right underneath his lightning scar.

At least, that's what Nakran, the goblin healer who was currently fussing over him, said.

She was a sweet, older goblin, with gnarled hands and long claws that probably would have frightened anyone else, but the gentle way her fingers danced across his forehead made him unable to be afraid in the slightest.

Well, that, and the shock that was currently coursing through his veins, because there was a part of an evil dark lord possibly worming around in his head, and he was not fucking okay with that.

Narcissa and the other healers stood just off to the side, studying the two of them with worried eyes. She was holding onto all of his jewelry, as Nakran had said that metal and other kinds of decorations can hold onto energies as well, and she needed complete, unobstructed access to his magic for her to be able to see what was going on.

So, there he was, laying flat on a surprisingly comfortable hospital bed, his eyes closed, while cool, water like magic danced across his forehead, wrapping around… Something, just beneath the skin, and tugging at it slightly.

“I can feel it…” She said quietly, a goblin standing a few feet away jotting down everything she said, judging from the near constant scratching of a quill that had become like white noise in his ears. “It feels like it’s separated somehow, like something has ripped it away from the surface… It’s formed a blockage, as well. It causes you pain when you do large feats of magic… Have you done anything like that, recently?”

“I, ah… I renovated the house my godfather left for me.” Harry said softly. “With blood magic.”

“Did you faint? Wake up covered in blood?”

“Yeah, how did you..?”

“Doing magic that powerful was like a draw for it. It wanted to try and absorb as much of it as possible, so, instead of staying in place like it was supposed to, it tried to take your magic.”

Nakran’s hands danced over his scar again, her magic sharply tugging at the Horcrux.

He hissed, pain shooting down his spine when Nakran tugged, and she quickly pulled her hands away, causing the pain to fade.

“Alright, dear.” She croaked out in her gentle voice. “You can sit up again. I need to ask you a few questions, because there are some things that I can’t quite explain about you…”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry replied softly, carefully sitting up and grabbing his glasses from Narcissa, putting them back on so he could give Nakran his full attention. “What do you need to know?”

“Your body is filled with old injuries, Heir Hartford. Most of them are about a decade old now, but… You have so many broken bones, and more muscle damage than I thought possible. Your mind is another story altogether, because I can’t tell what is and isn’t caused by the soul fragment, but… Those injuries. What are they from?”

“Ah… Well, the more recent ones are probably from Quidditch. I, have a tendency to get hurt while playing.” He admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did fracture my wrist when I was nine because I tripped while going down the stairs, but I was fine from that. All of the really old ones were from when I was little, and I was living with the Dursleys…”

“The Dursleys?” Narcissa asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Lily Potter’s sister and brother-in-law.” Harry explained to everyone in the room. “They were my guardians until I was four. I don’t… I don’t like talking about what happened when I lived with them.”

Nakran frowned deeply, but nodded, gently patting his hand. “That is fine, Heir Hartford. But, for my own confirmation… All of those injuries were inflicted upon you by your guardians at that time?”

“Guardians and cousin, yes.”

“Thank you for the clarification. And all injuries in the last four years were..?”

“Self inflicted.”

“Seven head injuries, absorption scars, the extension of your curse scar, the self harm scars, and the strange magical sealing of that large wound on your neck? All self-inflicted?” The goblin raised a brow, a frown on her face.

Harry shrugged a bit. “The head injuries aren’t, I guess, but… What do you mean by absorption scars?”

“The thin, vein like scars on your arms?” Nakran asked. “That is from your body having to absorb more magic to keep you alive. Wherever you were when you got those scars had plenty of ambient magic, and you ended up burning through your magical core, and your body forcibly pulled more magic into you to keep you alive.”

“Oh! I didn’t, know that was a thing.”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s not a common ailment, because most wixen don’t burn through their magical core.” She narrowed her eyes, and in that moment, Harry very much felt like he was being scolded by a grandmother.

And he very much did not like disappointing this old woman.

“...Sorry.” He murmured, looking away.

Nakran sighed, patting his hand again. “It’s fine, Heir Hartford. You are still only a child, yet it seems as though the world has it out for you… I do, however, believe that we can help with the Horcrux, at the very least.”

Both Harry and Narcissa sighed in relief, running their hands through their hair at the same time, which, made them both chuckle a little.

“That’s wonderful, Healer Nakran.” She said softly. “When can we… I don’t know… Have it removed?”

“Tomorrow evening, is our best bet. At sundown.” The goblin nodded. “I will need a few things from you first, however. The both of you.”

“Yes, of course. What can we do?”

“When Heir Hartford arrives tomorrow, he needs to be freshly cleaned. We will be wiping away any of the final impurities with an herbal solution, but it works best when the skin is cleaned.” Nakran began, nodding at Harry. “It would be best if he has an empty stomach as well, because the Purging Ritual has been known to make wix ill in the process.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry nodded firmly.

“Then, comes the difficult part.” The goblin sighed. “The most important thing for this ritual is going to be your Anchor.”

“His… Anchor?”

“His Anchor. Whatever will hold you to this world the best. Even though that Horcrux is not a part of your own soul, if we are correct in the timeline of events… That soul fragment has been in your body for the last thirteen years. It's very much entwined with who you are.”

Harry’s eyes widened a bit as the realization of what she meant hit him.

“...Because it's been a part of me for so long, removing it could… It could start to pull my actual soul away from my body?” He asked softly.

Nakran nodded solemnly. “It could. That is what your Anchor is for. A reminder of what you have here, in life, so your soul has a reason to cling to your body. It can be anything, really, but it must be strong enough for it to force your soul to stay within you.”

“And… What else do I need?”

“The last thing you need, Heir Hartford, is faith in us.” She smiled a bit, baring her sharp teeth. “We will do everything we can to remove that filth from your body, that way you can begin to heal properly.”

Harry smiled nervously, nodding again as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further.

“...Thank you. All of you.” Narcissa said softly, starting to hand him his belongings back. He quickly put all of his jewelry back on, shuddering in relief when he felt the magic of his rings and necklace settle back over him. “We’ll be back tomorrow evening. Again, thank you.”

It had felt like missing a limb when he’d been without it, and he really, truly, hated that feeling.

“Yeah. You’re all brilliant.” He said softly, turning to Nakran and bowing politely, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Healer Nakran.”

“Of course, Heir Hartford.” She chuckled. “It’s not every day that someone as interesting as you comes through our doors… I’m happy to help.”

He smiled a bit, standing up again and walking over to Narcissa who, after a few more ‘thank you’s and ‘goodbye’s, led him out of the ritual chamber and back out of the bank in silence.

Once they stepped outside, she turned to look at him, a worried expression on her face.

“...Would you like to go somewhere to eat, or… Would you rather just go home?” She asked him gently.

“Can we go homet?” Harry asked quietly. “I feel like I’m gonna hurl.”

“Of course. Do you want to apparate or floo?”

“Apparate, please and thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

—

If Harry had to pick which one of his friends, besides Theo, had the best fingers, it would have to be Blaise.

Only because as he laid there, facedown on the sofa, not speaking or moving, his best friend was gently running his fingers through his hair and murmuring unintelligible comforts in Italian, while the rest of his friends and boyfriend spoke with Narcissa about what was going on.

Although, that had been twenty minutes ago, and now it was just him and his friends in the sitting room, because she had left to go and speak with Lucius about what the goblins had told them.

Time felt… Weird, because when they’d gotten home, the reality of the situation had dawned on him, and he’d just started to shut down.

Which, was a new experience, and one he hadn’t expected to have at ten-thirty in the morning, but here he fucking was, starting to have a breakdown on the sofa as his brain refused to process any of what was happening around him.

Blaise sighed softly, starting to put random, tiny braids into his friend’s hair as he looked over at their friends.

“He’s totally out of it.” He said softly. “Like. He’s here, but he’s not. At all.”

“Well what do you expect him to be doing?” Theo huffed, pacing back and forth. “He has a damned Horcrux in his head! I’ve only heard of those damned things once in my entire life!”

“Yeah, but he’s never been so quiet for so long without being unconscious. I don’t like it.”

Luna hummed a bit, making her way over to them and crouching down to look at Harry.

“Harry, I’m gonna lay on you. It should make your brain go back into your head. Is that okay?”

He grunted in response, another grunt escaping him as he felt her small body carefully climb up onto his back and flop on top of him, her head resting between his shoulder blades as she went totally limp.

Oddly enough, it did make him feel a little better.

“...Thanks, Lue…” He murmured.

“He spoke! We’re good!” Blaise sighed in relief, looking down at him worriedly. “Mate, you scared the shit out of me for a minute.”

“Sorry, just… Feeling icky…”

“Have you eaten?” Neville asked softly, and when he shook his head, his friend nodded. “I’ll go get you some toast.”

“No toast, please… Don’t wanna chew…”

“...Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

There were soft, padding footsteps as Neville slipped out of the room, the only glimpse Harry was able to get of him being his mandrake patterned socks quickly passing by, and he smiled a bit.

It took a moment, but the rest of his friends slowly made their way over as well, climbing up onto the sofa with him, Blaise, and Luna, or settling down on the floor. Theo sat down right in front of him, gently kissing his forehead and every other part of his face that he could reach.

“We need a plan.” Draco murmured from his perch.

“There’s no need for a plan, Dray.” Theo sighed. “What we need is to figure out Harry’s anchor, so he doesn’t fucking die tomorrow.”

“Okay, Pessimist Patty. Harry isn’t going to die tomorrow.” Blaise huffed at them both. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Is it, though? I’ve never even heard of a Purging Ritual!”

“Technically, they’re exorcisms.” Hermione added quietly. “Proper ones. The removal from a dark force from one body to place it into another.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read it in a book once.”

Harry closed his eyes, the sounds of his friends' voices as they discussed just what they could use to keep his soul attached to his body starting to become white noise again as he felt his mind drift again.

It really was terrifying, if he thought about it too much.

He had been so ready to die to save his friends, so much so that he’d tried to do himself in.

But the idea of dying at someone else’s hands was just… So much scarier.

And that was a feeling he really didn’t like.

“...It’s us, you know.” Luna suddenly said, forcing him to zone back into the conversation.

“What do you mean it’s us?” Daphne asked quietly, looking over at her friend.

“It’s us. We’re his Anchor.” She replied simply, sliding her arms underneath Harry and winding them around his chest, hugging him tightly. “During the ritual tomorrow, we’ll keep him connected with his body. It’ll be easy.”

“...Oh.” Theo said softly, his eyes wide. “That makes perfect sense.”

“...We’re going to watch Harry have a Horcrux purged from his body.” Draco whispered in horror, running a hand through his hair. “That’s terrifying. Oh my god. What if something goes wrong? What if we aren’t able to keep him attached to his body? What if-”

His friend’s worrying was cut off by an oddly solid sounding thwack, and it took a second for Harry to realize that Blaise had just beaned him in the head with a slipper.

Nice shot.

“Harry is going to be fine.” The boy insisted. “Because we’re going to be there. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“...Yeah.” He smiled a bit, a tired, almost hazy quality to his voice. “I’ll be fine as long as I have you guys by my side…”

It was at that moment that Neville, bearing a can of coke with a straw stuck in through the little tab because he’d given up trying to find something that Harry didn’t have to chew, made his way back into the room.

“Okay, so, I totally agree with that point, but where are we going?” He asked, walking over and handing the soda to Theo, who guided the straw to his boyfriend’s mouth.

“We’re going to be Harry’s Anchors during the ritual tomorrow.” Hermione explained.

“...Merlin’s saggy tits, I really need to stop leaving the room during stressful situations. You always come up with a plan while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry, Nev.” Harry hummed after he took a sip of his drink. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah… That doesn’t mean I’m happy about this.”

“Trust me, me either.”

“...If you die, I’m gonna kill you. Because I really, really don’t want to watch you die, you absolute bastard.” Neville muttered, glaring at Harry without any venom in his gaze, and causing a startled laugh to escape his friends. “I’ll kill you dead.”

“You know what? That’s fair… I’d probably kill me dead too.”

Nev’s face softened a bit, and a smile pulled at his lips, making him shake his head and sigh.

“You all are so lucky that I love you.”

“We love you too, Nev.”

Chapter Text

Theo’s hand clutched at his so tightly that Harry thought he was going to lose the feeling in his fingers, but, at the same time, he would have rather died than ask him to let go.

He was terrified.

Completely. Fucking. Terrified.

His friends, Narcissa, and Lucius were all standing by him, watching as the goblin healers set up the ritual circle, all of them waiting for the signal to begin, and all of them feeling the same anxiety he was.

Outside of a vague, Hermione-ish explanation of a Purging Ritual, or Exorcism, as she had just decided to start calling it, none of them really knew what to expect. All they knew is that it would be dangerous, and that there was a very, very real chance that Harry wouldn’t be leaving the ritual chamber alive.

He let out a soft, shuddering breath, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Theo turned his body a bit, that way he could wrap his arms around him and hold him while they waited, gently kissing the top of his head and running his fingers through his hair.

The goblins were drawing a large chalk circle on the ground, with runic symbols that he had never seen before, and then lining the outside of the circle with salt, in order to trap the evil that resided in his forehead within, and prevent it from trying to attach itself to anyone else.

Like a parasite.

“Heir Hartford.” Nakran said softly, her voice pulling him out of his own mind. “It is time to begin. Like yesterday, you need to remove all metal from your person.”

“...Y-yeah. Okay.” Harry nodded, taking a deep breath as he started to take off his jewelry. After a moment of hesitation, he began to pass them out to everyone.

Theo would hold the necklace with his pendant and his parent’s rings. Draco, Blaise, Neville, and Daphne held the Black, Peverell, Potter, and Slytherin rings respectively. Luna was given his pocket knife, and Hermione received his earrings.

Then, last but not least, Lucius was given his glasses, and Narcissa held his leather jacket and bag.

“...Maybe that will help Anchor me, too, if all of you have a piece of me.” He said quietly, his voice shaking as he fought back tears. Theo stepped forward again, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss, before resting their foreheads against one another.

“You’re going to be fine, Harry Hartford.” He whispered fiercely. “You are going to pull through. You’re going to get that… That shit out of your head, and we’re going to go home and rest. Do you understand me?”

He laughed a bit, nodding as he kissed Theo again, before he pulled away and gave everyone a tight hug.

As much as he wanted to believe his boyfriend’s words, there was a part of him that was still convinced that this was the last time he would see the people he loved most.

Once he had given everyone a proper amount of affection, at least in his eyes, he made his way over to Nakran, laying down in the center of the circle the way she directed him to, and staring up at the ceiling.

Her soft, wrinkled hands carefully painted some sort of symbol on his forehead with the chalk they had used for the floor, and she peered down at him.

“I will warn you now, Heir Hartford. This will not be a pleasant experience. I have no guarantees what you will experience during the ritual, but…”

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch?” Harry offered, cracking a weak smile.

“In the most basic and muggle of terms? Yes.”

“Don’t worry. I’m ready. Just… Try not to kill me?”

Nakran chuckled, petting his head. “We will do our best…”

Her slight warmth slowly pulled away from him, then, and she made her way back outside of the circle, starting to direct each member of the ritual to stand in their place.

“We will be staggering.” She explained. “A goblin, then a wix, then another goblin, until the circle is complete. Lord and Lady Malfoy, as the boy’s guardians, you will come stand on either side of me. Your jobs as Anchors is to help keep him in his body, by any means necessary. If he begins to slip away, you will scream at him, you will distract him, you will do everything you possibly can to keep him here with us.”

“By any means necessary?” He heard Blaise ask quietly.

“Any means necessary. Are there any further questions?”

A silence spread through the room.

“Wonderful.” Nakran nodded. “Then, we shall begin.”

From all around him, a low, guttural chanting began to sound- Gobbledygook, if he guessed correctly- and before he could process any of what they were saying, even though he couldn’t actually translate it, the air around him turned to ice.

For a few moments, he could see his breath, coming out in short, rapid puffs of air as the chanting got louder and louder, and his head began to feel pressurized, as though he were stuck underwater.

Then, agony.

Pure, unfiltered, agony.

Like an axe had just been buried into his skull, yet he wasn’t dying. Like someone was reaching into his head and pulling at his very fucking soul with all their might, ripping it away from the sides of his body as they did so.

And he screamed, because there was nothing else he could do.

He screamed, and screamed, because his mind could barely process the pain he was in, much less find words to say.

He screamed, and his vision went white, and suddenly…

He felt nothing.

—

“Fuck-” Draco choked out, slapping a hand over his mouth as they watched Harry writhe on the floor, screaming in agony as magic washed over him. The constant, thrumming chanting of the goblins beneath it like a song giving it an ominous, almost ancient sound.

Blaise had seen people in pain before. He’d seen Theo be put under the Cruciatus Curse not even two weeks ago, he’d watched his mother’s grief at losing another man that she had fallen in love with, the way she’d collapsed into her bed and was only able to leave whenever he asked her to come and do something with him.

Hell, he had watched people die. One of his professors, two of his stepfathers…

But this was so much worse.

Because this was Harry.

Harry, who nearly killed himself to try and save them. Who went out of his way to fight battles for the people he loved, just so they wouldn’t have to get hurt.

Who willingly killed three different people so that the ones he loved would stay safe, or to avenge those he had already lost.

And he was writhing on the floor, being ripped apart from the inside out, because He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named decided that he wanted to be immortal.

Blaise looked out across the circle, his eyes meeting Luna’s, and instead of the terror and grief he had expected to see in her gaze, all he saw was determination.

She was clutching the pocket knife that Harry had given her, the one that had been a loving gift from his dad, Gid, like it was a lifeline.

Like it would bring him back if she just clung to it enough.

He had been so focused on watching her, however, that he hadn’t realized that the screaming had stopped.

The screaming… Had stopped.

His heart nearly fell out of his chest when he tore his eyes back down to his friend, ready to see his corpse, prone on the floor, eyes dull and lifeless.

Instead, he saw Harry sitting straight up, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, and his eyes rolled completely back into his head. A low, croaking noise was coming from the back of his throat, like a quiet, monotone scream.

“H-... Harry..?” Theo asked softly, causing the boy’s head to snap towards him, the sound of bones cracking filling the air and making them all jump.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Theeeeeooooo…” Harry crooned, and although it certainly sounded like him, there was just… Something wrong with the way it sounded. “Hello. Love… Why are you… Looking at me like that..?”

“It’s just me. I’m just… Harry.”

“That’s not Harry.” Hermione hissed, her eyes wide and terrified as tears streamed down her cheeks. “It doesn’t smell like him anymore. Theo, that’s not him.”

“Of course I’m. Me. Hermione. Who else would I be?”

“I don’t know, but you aren’t Harry!” She suddenly snapped, her hands flexing as she bared her teeth, like a wolf trying to intimidate a larger predator.

It was at that moment that Blaise realized exactly what had happened, and he clutched the ring in his hand even tighter.

She was right. This wasn’t Harry.

It was the Horcrux.

And it was doing a shit job at trying to convince them that it was human.

“You’re a fucking git, you know that?” He said coldly. “Living in Harry’s head all these years?”

The Harry-Horcrux turned to look at him, a strange, manic giggle escaping it as it began to slowly rise to its feet, dragging his spine across the ground and slowly rising up in a sort of curve, his arms limp at his sides the entire time. As he moved, bones were popping and crunching in his body, like he’d been lying stiff for hours.

“I don’t. Know what you’re talking. About.”

“Yes you fucking do.”

“Is that any way to talk. To your friend, Blaise?”

“It is when you aren’t Harry.” Daphne chimed in, causing the Horcrux to turn and look at her.

Although, turn was too kind of a word.

He snapped his neck around 180 degrees to look at her, causing Narcissa and Theo to let out matching pained gasps.

The Horcrux made a strange, shambling sort gait over to the girl, blood starting to trickle out of his nose and mouth as he did so.

“That’s. So rude, Daphne.” It grinned. “But… You don’t care.”

“Why would I care about a disgusting soul chunk possessing one of my best friends?”

“Because I could. Kill him. And I could do it right the fuck now.”

When it spoke like that, Blaise’s discomfort at its voice suddenly made perfect sense.

The Horcrux had no cadence when it spoke. Its words were stilted, like an animal trying to speak.

Nakran spoke up, then, returning to English so that the wixen around her could understand her.

“Just a little more. Keep it distracted.” She said quietly. “It will get angrier and more violent the closer we get to removing it. Ironfang, get the quartz!”

Blaise turned to look at one of the younger goblins, who was quickly shuffling forward, a grapefruit sized chunk of quartz firmly in his grasp.

The Horcrux turned to look at the goblin, his head turning around and hanging oddly due to the broken bones in his neck.

“That’s. For me? Funny.” It laughed, starting to shamble its way closer to Nakran. “You think you can. Kill me? I am stronger than. You. I am-”

Whatever it wanted to say, however, was cut off, as the goblin’s chanting got louder, and it let out a horrible screech of pain. More and more blood began to gush from Harry's nose and mouth as he dropped to the ground, twitching and shaking like he was having a seizure.

“CALL TO HIM! NOW!” Nakran shouted at them, her eyes widening as the scar on Harry’s forehead began to split open. “THE HORCRUX IS EMERGING!”

Before any of them could stop and think of what to say, a cacophony of shouting began to fill the room, all of them begging and pleading for Harry’s attention as the lightning shaped scar pulled itself open, a black, ooze like mass starting to drain out of it as his body lurched and cracked, more and more bones breaking as the Horcrux continued to fight against being removed from its host.

Their words blended together, and Blaise could barely pick out a single voice amongst them.

That is, until the black ooze had emerged completely, and Nakran shouted once again.

“GET HIM OUT!”

Luna lunged forward before anyone else, leaping through the barrier of salt and grabbing hold of Harry, ripping him out of the circle and tumbling away from it.

As soon as they were back out of the circle, the rest of them broke away so they could rush over to their sides.

Harry’s broken, bloody body lay limply on the floor, his neck twisted at an odd angle, and the rest of his limbs bent uncomfortably.

The Horcrux really had been trying to kill him.

Blaise turned back towards the ritual circle as a horrible, high pitched screaming filled the room, and he watched with mounting horror as the quartz crystal they had collected for the ritual turned an inky black color as the Horcrux was forced into it.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the screaming came to an end.

Before any of them could ask if it was over, the goblin healers came rushing over to them, gathering up Harry’s body and rushing out of the room in a panic, while Nakran stayed behind with Ironfang, their expressions grim as they stared down at the swirling, agitated Horcrux.

“...Is Harry going to be okay..?” Theo asked quietly, looking at the healer with tears in his eyes.

“...He should be.” Nakran replied just as quietly, before she turned to Lucius and Narcissa, handing the crystal to the latter. “Do not let him come in contact with this for at least two weeks. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe. I would keep it here, but I refuse to keep such dark magic hidden away in Gringotts.”

“I understand.” She whispered, tucking the Horcrux into Harry’s bag.

“When can we… When can we see him?” Lucius asked, wiping his eyes as he fought to keep his voice level, pulling Draco closer to him with his free hand.

Blaise hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“As soon as the other healers say that he’s stabilized.” Ironfang explained. “I’ll take you all to a waiting room.”

Neville let out a soft whimper.

“And… And what if he isn’t alright after..?” He could barely bring himself to finish the sentence, like even just thinking about Harry’s death was agonizing.

“...Only time will tell.”

…Blaise didn’t like that answer one bit, but after the horror he had just seen… He didn’t have the will to say as much.

Instead, he and the rest of the group rose to their feet, following the young goblin through the main entrance of the ritual chamber, letting him lead them to a small-ish. private waiting room, and promising to return as soon as he had an update.

Which, hopefully it would be soon, because he didn’t think his heart could take the fear of not knowing if his friend was alright for very long.

And so… They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Until Luna raised her head, her eyes glistening with tears.

“...He’s alright.” She said softly. “He’s going to be alright.”

Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief at that, going limp in their chairs as they waited for a goblin to come and retrieve them so they could go and see him.

Thank the gods, it all turned out okay.

—

The night was wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop window covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry muggle trapping of a world in which they did not believe… And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions… Not anger… That was for weaker souls than he… But triumph, yes… He had waited for this, he had hoped for it.

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, and he saw the fear cloud the boy’s painted face.

Then the child turned and ran away… Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother.

No. No, he would not. He was just a boy. An innocent boy. No more innocent children-

And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet.

And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and peered over it…

They had not drawn the curtains.

He saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist.

A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning…

The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but the man, James Potter, did not hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open.

James. Run. Take your wife and run. Take your wife and your son and RUN-

He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand .

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off-!”

Hold him off, without a wand in his hand?

How pathetic.

He laughed before he cast the curse.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut, a smile on his face, for he believed his wife and son had made it out alive.

What a fool he was.

No… No… James… No…

He could hear her screaming and sobbing from the upper floor, trapped in her own home. But as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear. He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in.

She had no wand either.

How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments.

He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand, and there she stood, the child in her arms, his face pressed into her shoulder as she whispered to him.

“Harry… Mama loves you… Dada loves you…” She whispered, her voice breaking, thick tears streaming down her face.

At the sight of him, Lily dropped her son, and a small, metallic object, into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside now.”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-”

“This is my last warning-”

“Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I’ll do anything-”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

Stop begging. Stop begging and fight back. Hit him. Fight back. FIGHT BACK.

He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all.

The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband.

She, too, smiled as she died.

What strange, pathetic little people they both were.

The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib and he looked up into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty light, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing.

Even as blood dripped down from the wound on his forehead. The runic, cleanly cut wound that was so, obviously fresh.

But it didn’t matter. He didn’t care what sort of wounds the child had as long as it died.

He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy’s face. He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger.

The child began to cry.

It had seen that he was not James.

He did not like its crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage.

“Avada Kedavra!”

And then he broke.

He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away . . . Far away . . .

Die. Die die die die dIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE-

—

“-FUCKING DIE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!” Harry shrieked at the top of his lungs as he sat straight up, pain shooting up and down his body as he did so, a vibrant anger burning so brightly in his chest that he could barely breathe.

It took a moment for his mind to register where he was, and what was happening, but once he did, he immediately looked around for Theo.

And, instead of his boyfriend’s smiling face, he was greeted with a damp, slightly sticky boyfriend who seemed to have just dumped soda all over himself from fright.

“Holy shit, babe… What the fuck was that?” He asked, blinking a few times as he grabbed some napkins and began trying to clean himself up.

Harry stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide as his chest heaved.

“Uhm… First question. Is the Horcrux gone?”

“It is. But can you answer mine now, please?”

“...I think I just watched myself be turned into a Horcrux.”

“...Oh!”

Theo couldn’t say much more than that, as the door to the room burst open, and the panicked faces of Lucius, Narcissa, and his entire coven came into view, with the former two holding their wands out like they were ready to duel whoever had startled their charge awake.

“Why are we killing someone!? Who has to die!?” Lucius shouted, looking around the room in a sort of exhausted panic.

“I had a really fucked up dream.” Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. “Ow… Ow… Everything hurts…”

Hermione whimpered, rushing forward and helping him lay down again, quietly fussing over him like she was afraid he was going to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

It took a moment for everyone to relax after, apparently, thinking that there was some sort of intruder that broke into his hospital room at Gringotts, which made zero sense if they thought about it for more than thirty seconds.

Especially since Nakran came in a few minutes later to check in with him and make sure that all of his cognitive faculties were still in order, and chided them all for thinking that the security on the bank would falter for even a moment, especially within the walls of one of the most secure parts of the bank.

After it was confirmed that yes, Harry was still a fully functioning human being and no, he didn’t lose any memories or anything like that, the goblin healer smiled up at him, and told him that, basically, he was good to go that evening, and simply needed to rest for the next week and not do any strenuous magic the entire time.

Once she left, Harry turned back towards his friends, a shaky sigh escaping him.

“Okay… Now that we know I’m, like, fully intact… Can you guys explain to me exactly what happened?” He said softly. “I blacked out like, two minutes into the ritual.”

Blaise nodded a bit. “As long as you tell us what you dreamt about. Because you’ve had some rough nightmares before, but… That was different.”

“Alright. You guys first, though.”

And so, they talked.

They talked for a long time, and by the time they were done… Deeply disturbed was the only way any of them could describe how they felt.

“...Well.” Narcissa said softly after a few minutes. “I suppose that… We should find a secure place to lock up that Horcrux, and then… We’ll take some time to regroup. Relax a bit.”

“That sounds like a really fucking great idea.” Harry groaned, rubbing his face. “...Can we go stay with Mrs. Zabini for a bit?”

“I think she’d like that a lot.”

“Sweet… I really want a goddamn cannoli.”

Luna nodded solemnly. “Cannolis have great healing properties. Mentally and physically. We’ll simply have to get as many of them as we possibly can.”

“Lue you’re just going to suck the cream out of half of them like you did at the festival last year.” Draco chuckled dryly, shaking his head.

“As if you’re much better.”

“...What do you mean by that?”

“Were you not looking at a poster of Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum earlier this week and said, and I quote, ‘Merlin, I wish I could suck him dry like Luna did to the-’”

Draco’s face went bright red, and he slapped his hand over Luna’s mouth. “LUNA-!”

“HA!” Theo cackled, having to cover his own mouth as he erupted into hysterical laughter, as did the rest of the group.

The longer they laughed, the redder and redder Draco’s face became, until he had seemingly tried to become one with the floor, refusing to make eye contact with his parents out of pure embarrassment.

After the stressful day they’d just had, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation, his aching shoulders and chest heaving as he cackled.

Even so, the memory he had seen in his dream was still haunting the back of his mind. Watching James and Lily die… Knowing how much they really, truly had loved him?

It bothered him.

That was something he could deal with another day, though.

Right now, they had to keep ribbing Draco for his crush on Viktor Krum.

And in that moment, everything felt right. It all felt normal.

And he wanted it to stay like this forever.

Chapter Text

Waking up to the sound of the waves crashing against the sand outside, and the soft warmth of the boy he loves most in the world pressed up against him, their legs tangled together as they clung to each other’s shirts was one of Harry’s favorite feelings in the world.

He didn’t feel the need to hurry and get ready for the day because they had errands to run. He didn’t need to head downstairs for breakfast, and he didn’t really need to do, well… Anything.

He could just stay in bed, nestled up against Theo’s chest, until they both decided they wanted to get up and do something.

Otherwise, they stayed in bed, reading and just enjoying each other’s company, entirely on the orders of Nakran, the goblin healer who had removed the Horcrux from his head.

And who was he to deny the orders of a medical professional? Especially when, at times, his neck and back still screamed at him when he got up and moved around too quickly.

Harry hummed softly, nestling up against Theo’s chest a bit more, smiling when he felt his boyfriend tangle his hands in his hair and kiss his forehead.

“You’re so damn cuddly…” He cooed softly. “I’m not complaining, but still. I like it.”

“What can I say? I’m comfy. You’re comfy.”

“Good.”

He sighed a bit, letting his eyes fall closed as Theo continued to run his fingers through his hair, pulling one of his legs up to brace the book he was reading, and continuing to turn the pages with his free hand, quietly mouthing the words he was reading as his eyes scanned the page.

If Harry listened enough, he could hear the soft, breathy whisper of his voice, detailing different kinds of sacrificial magics- his current fixation, as they attempted to figure out both why Voldemort would put a Horcrux in his forehead, and what the ritual that his mother, Lily, seemingly did before her death.

There was also the added research into his Mum and Dad’s wedding rings, but without knowing who made them, as they weren’t goblin silver, there was very little they could go off of when it came to the source.

As they laid together, Harry carefully shuffled a bit, doing everything he could not to disturb his boyfriend too much as he slowly scooted up so his face was right next to Theo’s neck. Instinctively, the other boy tilted his head to the side, his concentration not being broken, even as his boyfriend began to press soft kisses against his flesh.

He did, however, startle a bit when Harry sank his teeth into the side of his neck, leaving a good sized bite mark as retribution for the many that had been left on his own neck.

“Ah- You shit!” He gasped, turning to look at his boyfriend with mock offense, setting his book to the side and jamming his fingers just below Harry’s ribs, making him laugh.

“Wait-! Mercy, mercy!” He giggled, trying to wiggle away from Theo, the wide grin on his face as he continued to try and avoid his boyfriend’s long, pointy fingers.

He still regretted the day he accidentally revealed that he was ticklish.

Thankfully, he was saved by a sudden sharp rapping against the door, causing them both to whip their heads towards it, eyes wide.

“Come in!” Theo called, and when the door opened, Neville poked his head in, his eyes covered by his hand.

“Are you decent?”

“In what way?”

“...Not naked?”

“Oh, then yes.” Harry nodded, and his friend sighed in relief, moving his hand from his eyes before stepping into the room the rest of the way.

“I hate to disturb your, admittedly adorable, cuddling and also apparently near murder session, but Daphne is calling a Coven meeting.” He chuckled. “It’s very important that everyone attends.”

“I see.” Theo nodded solemnly, helping Harry up and off the bed before climbing off himself. “Let’s go, then.”

The three boys made their way out to the dining room, where the rest of the group had gathered, taking their own seats just before Daphne began to speak.

“Okay. Now that everybody’s here, I can finally go over what’s happening tonight.” She said softly, folding her hands together and leaning forward, looking at everyone seriously. “Operation Hermione’s First Full Moon is a go.”

Harry’s eyes widened a bit, and he sat up quickly. Even though the knowledge that the full moon was fast approaching had been at the back of his mind this entire time, the realization that it was, in fact, tonight, made him feel nauseous.

She’d had a Wolfsbane Potion brewed for her by Draco, and she had her own designated chamber in the basement to transform in, but that didn’t take away the very real anxiety that had just rushed through him at the idea of her going through that sort of pain.

Because, even with his limited knowledge, he knew that a werewolf’s transformation was hell.

“Oh, ‘Mionie…” He said softly, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand. She squeezed it back gently, a nervous smile on her face.

“Our first order of business is that Luna and I will be going with Hermione back to Grimmauld Place for her transformation, that way she’s not alone with just Kreacher in the house, and we can be there to take care of her just in case something does go wrong.” Daphne continued. “We already have the entire night planned out. The moon will be at its highest point at 10:32 tonight, we’ll have Hermione in the chamber by ten. But, that brings us to the next point…”

“Harry, is there a butcher’s shop around Grimmauld?”

That made him pause. He, actually had no idea.

“No clue. I think there’s a nice one in Dragon Alley, though. Why do you..?”

“Because Hermione is going to be ravenous before and after her transformation.” Luna spoke up. “And we want to make sure she has plenty to eat. I already asked Kreacher if he would help us make food, and he said that he’s more than happy to.”

“And it’s all going to be raw meat, so it needs to be good, butcher grade meat.”

Hermione lit up a bit at that, and if he’d had a tail, Harry could have sworn it would be wagging like mad.

Truth be told, Daphne had the same expression on her face, even if she was trying to control it a bit more than his sister was.

Blaise hummed a bit. “There is a good butcher in Dragon Alley. Mamma would absolutely take you there if you asked. She’d be happy to help.”

“Sweet.” Daphne hummed, scribbling down a note on her parchment. “I also have to request that none of you come through the floo to Grimmauld Place until at least seven in the morning tomorrow, maybe even eight, that way we know that everyone is decent and in at least some degree of mental stability. Agreed?”

“Sounds good to me.” Draco nodded. “Oh! If there are any injuries, which I doubt, but either way, there’s a bottle of silver powder and a few dittanies in my bedroom, if you need them.”

“Thanks, Dray.”

They continued to chatter for a few more minutes, mostly finalizing the plans and making sure that everything was in place. As they were wrapping up, Mrs. Zabini made her way out of her office, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she entered the dining room, pausing for a moment at the sight of the gaggle of teenagers all sitting at her kitchen table, before she spoke.

“...I am feeling very frustrated right now, and would like to take a break. Is anyone up for gelato?” She asked, pulling their attention over to her. “Because if I have to look at even one more document from those utter fools in the Senate I may have to commit a crime.”

Luna hummed, tilting her head to look at the woman. “That’s fair. Most politicians are rotten anyways. Can we stop by the butcher’s shop on our way home?”

“A nice steak dinner sounds lovely for tonight, so… Yes. I assume this is for Hermione’s transformation later this evening?”

“Yep! Thank you, Mrs. Zabini!” The three girls chorused.

“No problem, my lovelies. Come along, now, we need to go before it gets too late in the day and the shop is packed.”

—

“So. What did we get again?” Hermione asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Daphne, Luna, and Kreacher unpack the many bags of wrapped meat they had gotten from the butcher shop. She’d had to wait outside as she had practically been drooling at the mere sight of the slabs of beef and pork hanging in the shop windows, and they didn’t want the butcher to ask too many questions.

Kreacher, surprisingly, seemed very excited to be preparing their mostly raw meal, and had even gone so far as to copy down all sorts of recipes from the different cookbooks he had collected throughout the years, that way they could have a variety of dishes.

“More beef than I think anyone has ever bought in one sitting, two pounds of pork, a pound of chicken, duck, and turkey…” Daphne hummed a bit, carefully organizing everything. “Veal, which I’m really excited for, and some lamb.”

“I also went and got some fish at the fish market!” Luna replied excitedly, producing a very, very large hunk of wrapped salmon from her own bag and setting it on the table.

“We’re very well stocked, then.”

“Ohh, thank you guys so much, and… Thank you, Kreacher.” Hermione said, looking over at the house elf. “This isn’t too much for you, is it? I can help you cook, or-”

“No, no, Missy ‘Mionie.” Kreacher shook his head, gently waving her off. “Kreacher is happy to cook for the young missies. Caring for the members of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is all that Kreacher wants to do, and that means that he will happily prepare as many steak tartares as the young missies want.”

“Oh, well… If it’s no trouble, could you cook some of the meat as well? I don’t want Luna to get sick.”

“Of course, Missy ‘Mionie. Please, go have a seat, and Kreacher will bring out the food when it is ready.”

Daphne reached over and grabbed her hand, gently leading the other two girls out of the kitchen to give the elf the space he needed to work, before she grabbed her wand and began to gently wave it around, summoning blankets and pillows and different cushions from around the house and forming them into a nest on the floor in the middle of the drawing room and plopping right down into it.

Luna, ever the dramatic one, did some sort of somersault into the pillows, her heels smacking into the solid ground so hard it made a spark of pain shoot up Hermione’s legs, and she winced.

“Ow?? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite fine.” She replied with a smile, looking at her friends while upside down, and once Hermione was sure that she was, actually, okay, she settled down into the pillows as well, pulling one into her lap and hugging it tightly.

It was all still so… Strange to get used to.

All these people who were happy to have her around, who were happy to take care of her when she needed a little bit of help, and none of them asked for anything in return.

It was such a stark difference from her friendship with Ron and Seamus, or even her roommates up in Gryffindor Tower.

Hell, Daphne had come up with this plan for the full moon entirely on her own, and went to her to ask if she was okay with herself and Luna being there during the transformation, just so she didn’t have to be alone.

Just the thought of it, the fact that these two girls were worried enough about her, even with everything else going on, to want to come and spend her first full moon with her, made her want to cry.

And, even though she tried to fight it, a few tears did slip down her cheeks involuntarily, and she quickly brought her hands up to wipe them away, a weak giggle escaping her.

“Are you okay?” Daphne asked softly, reaching out and gently resting a hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

It took her a moment to answer properly, but she nodded. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. I just… I really appreciate this. All of this. You guys could have stayed at the Villa and I could have just…”

“Nope.” Luna said, cutting her off as she sat up, folding her legs underneath her. “You wouldn’t have been alone, even if it wasn’t Daphne and I. Narcissa would have come to sit with you, or Mrs. Zabini, but at no point would you have been alone. We don’t do that.”

“We never face things by ourselves. That’s what friends are for.”

A soft chuckle erupted out of Hermione at that, and she relaxed as Daphne pulled her into a side hug, one arm thrown around her shoulder as their heads pressed together.

“I’ve noticed. You guys just all face danger as a group, huh?”

“Of course we do.” The other blond girl scoffed, although she had a smile plastered on her face. “We’re a family. And we take care of our family, no matter what.”

“I’ve noticed that. Do wixen really take that whole family thing so seriously?” Hermione asked, raising a brow as Daphne released her, the two of them settling back into their seats.

“Oh, absolutely.” She nodded. “There’s your family by blood, so the family you get your name from, and then there’s your family by choice, your Covenant. Both are important, and sometimes, families will remain in the same Covenant for generations. The whole idea of a Covenant has kindof been phased out over the years by modernists and some muggleborns, who hear the word coven and immediately think that it means dark magic, but… It’s just your family.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” Luna added helpfully. “The bonds you make are stronger than the ones you’re born into.”

Hermione nodded slowly. It made sense, she thought, that wixen would bond with one another so closely. Last year, when she’d had to read about the witch hunts that had gone on through the centuries, she’d come across plenty of notes about covenants and the way that groups of wix would come together and protect one another, but that with the Statute of Secrecy protecting them from muggles, they didn’t need to form them anymore.

“So… Why do you say that it's modernism and muggleborns that sorta, phased it all out?” She asked curiously. “Sorry, I just… I don’t understand a lot of these things. It hasn’t shown up in any of the books I’ve read.”

Daphne smiled, a soft chuckle escaping her. “Don’t worry about it. Lue and I are happy to explain all of this stuff. Basically, for the longest time, when a wix child popped up in a muggle family, they usually had to be whisked away by a wix family or a coven, otherwise they were likely to become an Obscurial, or be killed.”

“However, as time went on, and more and more muggles stopped thinking that magic was the sign of the Devil, we stopped needing to take muggleborn children from their homes for their safety. But, because those muggles were getting to be around their magical children, they were learning about our culture, which meant that their kids would still end up with the muggle ideas of what is Light and Dark Magic.”

“...So because of that, a lot of the more traditional forms of magic were classified as Dark?” Hermione’s eyes widened a bit.

“Yep.” Luna nodded. “Blood magic, covenants, even some forms of completely normal magic that they just thought were scary.”

“That’s… Completely maddening!” She gasped, suddenly furious. “Does that mean there’s forms of magic that were lost entirely because people decided they were Dark because they were just scary?!”

“Yep. Certain groups keep it alive, and certain cultures will still practice those types of magics, but England is pretty strict on what they consider Light and Dark.”

“That’s ridiculous! That’s censorship! What is this, 1984?!”

When the other two girls looked at her blankly, she paused, a slight rush of heat coming to her cheeks.

“Sorry, uhm… Muggle book reference.”

“Oh! Is it a good book?”

“Kindof? It’s like… A dystopian world where everyone is under constant supervision by the government, which calls itself Big Brother, and the quiet rebellions that happen all throughout the people that get squashed by the constant propaganda and secret police-”

Before Hermione could explain any further, however, almost a dozen plates came floating out of the kitchen, each one plated delicately with all sorts of different meals. Steak Tartare, Sashimi, Carpaccio, Carne Salada, and others that she didn’t recognize. Luna had her own plate, consisting of her own personal selection of cooked meats.

There were other plates with crackers and vegetables, and even a cheese platter added to the mix as well.

It was a veritable feast, entirely for the three of them.

Or, well… Four, if Hermione had anything to say about it.

“Kreacher, do you care to join us? This all looks delicious, but I worry we won’t be able to enjoy it all without a bit of extra help.” She asked softly, looking at the house elf as he carried out a tray of drinks to the three girls. He smiled a bit, and after passing out their beverages, he sat down on his own cushion.

“Well.” Daphne hummed, grabbing her glass of lemonade and lifting it into the air. “To the full moon, and a proper meal before the chaos begins.”

“Hear hear!” They all chuckled, lifting their drinks as well before they dug in.

And Hermione had never been so excited for a meal in her entire life.

—
The basement chamber was, for all intents and purposes, a dungeon.

Which, truthfully, is what Hermione wanted.

The stone was cool to the touch, the steel door locked from the outside, and there was nothing that she could do to escape unless she was purposefully let out.

It was a relief. The biggest relief she had had in a long time.

“Okay… You drank your potion?” Daphne said softly as she pulled more of Hermione’s hair back into the french braid she was doing, in hopes that it would help keep her hair out of the way.

“Yep. Potion’s been drunk, and I even chewed on some extra wolfsbane just in case. Draco said that it could help a bit, if I really felt nervous about it…” She replied, closing her eyes as her friend’s nails gently scratched her scalp, soothing the parts of her hair that were pulled back a little too hard before she tied the braid off.

“Lue and I will be right outside the door, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And if you need anything, and I mean anything. You let us know, understood?”

Hermione chuckled a bit, nodding up at her friend. “Okay, okay, I know… Uhm, could you hand me that blanket, though? I like these clothes, and I don’t want to…”

Luna hummed, grabbing the blanket that they’d brought with them and handing it to her, before pulling Daphne away and turning them both around.

Once she was certain that they wouldn’t be able to see her, Hermione quickly stripped out of her clothes before she wrapped herself up in the blanket, making sure she was covered as she folded everything up.

“Okay. I’m good.”

The other two girls turned around, smiling at her as they gathered up her clothes.

“We’ll be right outside, okay, Hermione?” Daphne whispered, stepping closer and leaning down to kiss the top of the girl’s head. “The moon will be at its peak in a few minutes, I just…”

“I’ll be fine.” She reassured her. “Go. I’ll feel better once I know you’re safe.”

She nodded again, taking a deep breath before she let Luna lead her out of the chamber, closing and locking the door behind them.

And then she was alone, with only the lingering sweet scents of the two girls who had spent the night taking care of her for company.

Alone to face the transformation, and she couldn’t help but be scared.

No, beyond scared… She was terrified.

Hermione’s breath quickened as a strange sensation spread over her, feeling the moon rise even without being able to see it, but as it slowly crested to its peak, her skin began to burn and itch. She let out a low, involuntary growl, moving to try and scratch her arms, but stopping when she felt her hands begin to bend and snap, a pained shout ripping from her throat as she collapsed to the floor in a heap.

It was hell. It was hell, and she was trapped, and bones were breaking and-

“Breathe, Hermione.” Her ears pricked up as she heard Luna through the door, her voice so much… Harsher. So much sharper, as she spoke. “You have to breathe. Stop fighting the transformation, because you’re only going to make it hurt more. Let it happen.”

“It hurts-” She gasped, but grit her teeth, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth as her teeth sharpened.

“I know it hurts, but you have to breathe. If you fight it, you’re going to suffer more.”

Despite the harsh tone, her friend’s voice was calm, and she couldn’t help but at least try to listen.

She took slow, shaky breaths, and found that the more she focused on inflating and deflating her lungs, the less she focused on the way her skin was splitting and sprouting hairs, how her face felt as though it was elongating, and the way everything else became so much louder and brighter.

Hermione focused on the scents of Daphne and Luna, just outside the door, and she snarled when her spine snapped, letting out a howl of agony.

Once the bones re-fused, however, she went back to focusing on her breathing, fighting to remain in control of her own mind.

She was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. She just had to let the transformation take its course.

Her breathing became harder and harder, starting to sound more like a dog’s panting as the last of her bones bent into place, and then-

She felt… Fine?

Yes, everything was brighter, smells and sounds were stronger and louder, and she certainly felt… Different, but…

She was fine.

Hermione slowly pushed herself up to her feet, feeling unsteady for a moment as she rose up to her full height on her back legs, knocking her head on the ceiling.

Ow?

Apparently, she was a very, very large werewolf.

Lupin wasn’t this big when he transformed, she remembered, so why was she?

“...’Mionie? You alright in there?” Daphne asked, and she felt her ears prick up, and she dropped down to all fours again, sniffing wildly as her tail began to wag. A soft howl erupted from her throat, and she heard her friends giggle. “You sound okay… How’s your head?”

Hermione barked, and, after a moment of deliberation, she heard the lock to the door click, and it cracked open just enough for both of the girls on the other side to poke their heads in. A rush of excitement shot through her body at the sight of the two, and she dropped down, looking up at them as her tail slapped against the ground excitedly.

In the back of her mind, she could hear her more wolfish instincts going wild.

Pack. Pack! Pack. Sisters. Play? Play.

Luna giggled a bit, pushing the door open the rest of the way and walking over, gently scrubbing Hermione’s face with her hands.

“Aww… You’re just all big and friendly right now, huh?”

In response, she gently headbutted her in the chest, causing her friend to grunt.

“She’s good.”

Daphne sighed in relief, walking over and gently petting her spine, like she was worried to cause her any pain after the transformation.

Hermione’s tail couldn’t stop smacking against the floor, her eyes falling closed as her friends used their nails to gently scratch her.

Everything about dogs now made perfect sense.

“...Hey, Hermione?” Luna hummed, causing her to open her eyes again, her ears standing straight up as her orange eyes fixed onto her friend, who, somehow, had produced a bright yellow tennis ball from her pocket. “...Wanna play fetch?”

And while the human part of her brain said that was a terrible idea?

Dog brain won out.

—

Narcissa sighed affectionately as she stepped through the floo into Grimmauld Place’s drawing room, looking around at the mess that the trio of girls had made the night before they all collapsed from exhaustion into the blanket pile they’d made. Kreacher, ever the diligent house elf, was already starting to clean it up, but the amount of dirt, grass, and rocks that covered the floor was impressive, even for a werewolf.

Speaking of werewolves, she knelt down carefully, grabbing one of the softer looking blankets and carefully pulling it up and over the now human again Hermione, who was soundly asleep, covered in mud, and still stark naked.

It was the polite thing to do, after all.

After tucking in Daphne and Luna as well, she made her way over to Kreacher, a small smile on her face.

“How did they do?” She whispered, kneeling down to his height.

“The young missies did very well.” Kreacher nodded as he snapped his fingers, disappearing as many of the rocks as he could all at once. “Missy ‘Mionie didn’t hurt herself at all, and both Missy Luna and Missy Daphne are unharmed as well, if a bit sore from running about playing fetch.”

She chuckled a bit at that. “That’s good… So, no incidents?”

“None at all.”

“Thank Merlin… I was worried.” Narcissa sighed in relief. “How long have they been asleep?”

“Three hours, Kreacher thinks.”

“Good, good… I… I hate to pull you away from your cleaning, Kreacher, but I’m afraid coming to check on the girls isn’t the only reason I came by.”

The elf paused, looking up at her with a worried expression as she reached into the pocket of her robes, pulling out the swirling chunk of quartz that was given to her by Nakran.

The Horcrux.

Kreacher tensed the moment he saw it, a small whimper escaping him, and he stepped back.

He recognized it. Or, at least, the magic.

“Regulus gave you something like this before he died, Kreacher.” Narcissa said softly. “I don’t know what it was, but I know he gave you something. A Horcrux.”

“M-Master Regulus did, but…”

“I need you to bring it to me. As well as any research that he left behind. Please.”

“Miss Cissy..?” Kreacher asked softly, looking up at her with wide, confused eyes.

She took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady her breathing.

“He’s coming back, Kreacher. Lucius’ mark is darkening again, and I have to finish what Regulus started. For Draco, Harry, Theo… All of them. I can’t let history repeat itself… I can’t lose them too.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before Kreacher slowly nodded.

“Kreacher will be right back, Miss Cissy.”

And then, he popped away, letting Narcissa rise back to her full height, tucking the quartz back into her pocket for a moment and pulling out the folded sheet of parchment that she had discovered in her many, many folders of memories from when she was younger.

A letter, sent by Regulus the day before he died, one that she never had the chance to open out of grief.

And now that it was open, she had only one goal in mind.

Complete what her best friend set out to do, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could prevent the deaths of more innocent children.

She unfolded the letter silently, letting her eyes drift across the words as tears welled up in them, the frantic handwriting of her dear cousin detailing horrors that she could have only ever come up with in her nightmares.

And yet, that fact filled her with even more determination.

If everything went well, she could keep this shit in her nightmares, and that’s exactly where they would stay.

Forever.

—

Cissa,

We made a mistake. We made a fucking mistake.

He’s a monster. He’s more of a monster than I ever thought possible, and I don’t know what to do.

He’s made Horcruxes. Multiple. More than one.

I know where one of them is. It’s a locket, with a serpent. He had Kreacher help him hide it, and Merlin, he nearly killed him in doing so.

He’s made more than one, and I’m going to go and find the first of many.

You need to get away from Him as soon as you can.

Please, cousin. Please.

If you don’t hear from me after this, assume I’ve either succeeded in destroying that damn Horcrux and have fled the country to avoid Him, or that I’ve died in the process.

I love you, Cissa. You’ve always been my favorite cousin, and that’s why I beg of you: Escape.

You aren’t Marked. You can still run.

Please.

Before it’s too late.

All my love,

Regulus Arcturus Black II

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, Hermione?” Blaise asked softly, looking over at the girl as she slipped into the dining room, her hair wrapped up in a towel as she plopped into the seat next to him, her eyes half lidded as she let out a noncommittal grunt.

“She’s tired and hungry.” Harry hummed between bites of toast. “Or she’s tired and grumpy. Those grunts sound very similar.”

His sister held up one finger, signaling that she was, in fact, tired and hungry.

Only a few seconds later, a plate of food appeared in front of her, and she tucked into it without a moment’s hesitation.

Theo, who was nursing his second cup of coffee, looked around at his friends with a slight frown. “Is that what I’m like in the mornings?”

“Yep. But, it’s endearing.” Harry smiled at him, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“And you’re both disgusting.” Draco sighed, shaking his head as he looked up to the other end of the dining table. “Dad, any news on the Cup?”

After the full moon, it had been a quiet, unanimous decision to go and have breakfast at Malfoy Manor, partially because Mrs. Zabini, who was in a feud with her Senate, had to go to the Parliament building to go and argue for another bill to pass.

Apparently, she was trying very, very hard to pass another Centaur Rights law to protect their forests, as more and more wixen were moving in to the protected areas and messing up the natural ecosystems, and she was, in her own words, ‘Going to show them exactly why Centaurs deserve their own fucking land’.

Which, likely meant that she was going to gather a group of particularly angry Centaurs to go and threaten the Senate.

Harry was actually rather miffed that he would be missing something so interesting, but, he understood why she didn’t want them in the way for something this important.

Plus, he wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to spend time with Lucius and Narcissa.

“It looks like Ireland and Bulgaria are the ones heading to the Cup.” Lucius chuckled, setting his copy of the Prophet down. “Ireland flattened Peru last night, 460 to 150.”

“Did Peru catch the Snitch at the last second?” Blaise asked, raising a brow. “I’ve never heard of a game going so badly.”

“Nope. Their best Chasers all collided in a mess while going after the Quaffle and they ended up with concussions, so their reserve team had to play.”

“Damn.” Neville said, his eyes wide. “That sounds like our last game for the Hogwarts Cup.”

“Merlin, don’t remind me.” Draco groaned. “That was a mess. The only people who got out unscathed were Harry and Dean Thomas.”

“I think it was the only game he didn’t get injured in. At least somewhat.”

“No, no, he didn’t get injured during the Ravenclaw match. He did fly upside-down for a moment, though.”

“Ah. Yes. The Drama.”

Harry snickered, holding his hands up in a surrender. “Hey, I thought that was cool. I caught the Snitch, didn’t I?”

“While risking your neck.”

“I always risk my neck!”

“Boys.” Lucius chided gently, sipping his tea. “No arguments during breakfast.”

“Sorry.” They said in unison.

“But, yes, Ireland and Bulgaria this year… That should be a rather interesting game.”

“Especially since we get to watch Draco give goo-goo eyes to Krum the entire time.” Daphne teased.

“It’s going to be no worse than watching Harry and Theodore have to sit more than three feet apart for any length of time.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but, upon thinking about it for more than thirty seconds, he paused.

That… Wasn’t exactly untrue.

Especially considering that, at that current moment, his and Theo’s ankles were currently hooked together.

Draco huffed, glaring at his friends as his face turned a soft pink. “...I hate you all so much. I really do.”

Lucius smiled, shaking his head affectionately before he spoke again.

“I already purchased the tickets, anyway. Minister’s box. Should be rather exciting… We’ll arrive a few days in advance to get set up.” He paused, looking at Hermione. “The full moon is two days after the Cup, thankfully, but I understand if you would prefer to stay home. I have a ticket for you either way, dear.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy…” Hermione smiled sleepily, giving him a thumbs up, carefully unwrapping the towel from her head and letting her hair fall free, the soft, freshly cleaned curls bouncing up a bit.

“In other news… Any plans for today?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Neville said softly, looking around at his friends, who all shook their heads. “Yeah. I think we were just going to lounge about today. The girls are all still exhausted from the full moon.”

Luna lifted her head up, a piece of cheese from her omelette stuck to her forehead. “Whuh… Moon?”

“Oh, Lue…”

Lucius sighed affectionately, grabbing his wand and gently flicking it, unsticking the cheese from the girl’s forehead and moving the plate out of her way as she dozed off again.

“Well, Cissa is deep in some research today, so I suppose we can let the girls stay home and rest… How would you boys feel about joining me for a bit of a jaunt around Diagon Alley? A lad’s day out, so to speak?”

Harry’s eyes lit up a bit, and when he looked at his friends, he could see the same expressions of excitement written across their faces.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lucius laughed a bit, finishing his tea and standing up, making his way over to the girls and gently waking Luna up again, before helping Daphne and Hermione up. “Alright, darlings… Come along, now. You three need to go back to sleep. Hermione, hold still for a moment, love.”

“Mkay…” Hermione hummed, shoving the last of her toast into her mouth as he flicked his wand at her hair, detangling it and braiding it with a quick, murmured spell.

“There you are. Off you go, girls. I’ll go and let Narcissa know what’s going on. Boys, go get ready, I’ll meet you in the sitting room in fifteen minutes.”

There was the loud shuffling of chairs as everyone jumped up to their feet, stacking their dishes and bringing them to the sink for Teeky, who they thanked for a delicious breakfast before hurrying up the stairs to go get ready.

Harry felt like he was vibrating with excitement. He hadn’t had a day out with his dad in-

He stopped halfway up the stairs, his breath stuck in his chest as his eyes went wide.

“...Woah.” He muttered, blinking a few times. “Oh, wow. That was weird.”

Blaise paused, turning to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… My brain.” He replied, offering his friend a small smile. “I was just thinking that I haven’t had a day out with my dad in a long time, and it… It felt weird.”

His friend nodded understandingly.

“Ah, yeah, I… I get it. It is weird, isn’t it? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It just startled me a little.” Harry nodded, starting to head up the stairs again, his left hand reaching up to wrap around the rings around his neck, and he took a slow, deep breath.

That was weird. That was really, really weird.

As he made his way back into his and Theo’s room, however, he had the strangest realization…

That was one of the first times that he’d been able to think about his Dad without having to fight back the urge to cry.

And that, somehow, made him want to shed a few tears more than just the thought of the man in question.

—

Diagon Alley was starting to become busy, with some of the older Hogwarts students already arriving to come and pick up books they know will be necessary, or to get their uniforms fitted before the rush happened.

However, like it had been when Harry had come with Narcissa, it was still relatively quiet, which meant that the six of them were able to maneuver around the streets without getting in the way of the people there, and vice versa.

“Alright… I do have a few errands of my own to run.” Lucius said softly, turning to look at them. “And I don’t want to force you boys to come along with me, because they aren’t going to be nearly as interesting as anything else to do here, so I wanted to give you the option to run off and have some fun for about an hour while I finish up a bit of business.”

“What sort of business?” Neville asked softly, raising a brow.

“Incredibly boring adult business.”

“Ew.” They all said in unison, causing the man to chuckle.

“Exactly. So… Shall we meet back here in, say… Forty-five minutes? Then we can run some errands together?”

“Sounds good.” Draco nodded, looking around and giving his dad a quick hug, letting the man bend down and press a quick kiss to his forehead before pulling away.

“Alright. Be safe, and remember. Forty-five minutes.”

And with that, Lucius disappeared down one of the many side alleys. Harry let his gaze flick up to the sign of the one he vanished down, and he frowned a bit.

“Knockturn Alley?” He asked, letting Theo lead him away with the rest of the group.

“It’s where some of the darker shops, and darker wizards, hang out.” His boyfriend explained softly. “Borgin and Burke’s is down there, and it’s where you can buy all sorts of weird artifacts.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Yeah, it is kinda weird. But, let’s not worry about that right now, because I know you well enough to know that you’re gonna want to follow him down there, and I’m actually looking forward to this shopping trip.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don’t care what Lucius is doing right now. I know he’s not doing anything bad, so, I’m just going to have a nice day out with my friends. I wish there was a damn arcade in the Alley, though, because I still owe Blaise a rematch on our last game of Galaga.”

“That’s right!” Blaise gasped, turning to look at him, walking backwards and pointing at him with an accusing finger. “You cheated!”

“I accidentally stepped on your foot, fucker. I didn’t cheat.”

“Cheated.”

“Lies. And slander.”

“Speaking of slander…” Neville murmured, stopping by one of the Daily Prophet carts, grabbing a few sickles from his pocket and handing them to the man running the cart, taking his paper before he trotted back over to his friends, opening it carefully.

“We have a copy at home, Nev.” Draco frowned a bit. “Why did you grab that?”

“I saw something while your dad was reading it, but I didn’t ask to look at it because I didn’t want him to worry, especially since he threw it in the trash immediately after I saw it, so…” He paused for a moment, biting his lip before he spoke up again. “… Rita Skeeter’s going mad with her articles, recently, and while I hate that woman, you can usually find out some sort of truth from her bullshit…”

“Oh, the only article I’ve ever really read from her was about my parents back in second year.” Harry said with a soft hum. “Is her usual stuff trash?”

“Muggle tabloid trash.” Blaise explained.

“Ooh. Fun. Who’s she shit talking?”

“Uh… Well. This is not what the fuck I was expecting to read.” Neville sighed, rubbing his face and looking at Theo. “Mate, I-”

Harry looked up at his boyfriend, watching as his face went pale, before his expression hardened again. He felt his hackles raise immediately, and he turned back towards Neville.

“Let me see that newspaper.” He said firmly, and his friend handed it over immediately, letting him read the cover story.

-

To say that I was surprised to hear this news is an understatement, dear readers, but late last night, I received a letter from Lord Theron Nott, of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Nott, asking me to publicly announce the news that I’ll be sharing with you today.

Earlier this month, he told me, Lord Nott happily welcomed his newest child into the world via a surrogate, and while the boy’s name is as of yet unannounced, as is tradition for the Nott Family, he has explained that he will be naming this new child the Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Nott after disowning his second eldest child, Theo-

-

Harry wasn’t able to read more than that, however, as the paper suddenly lit on fire.

It took him a moment to realize that he, in fact, had just lit the newspaper on fire in his anger and that he, wasn’t, in control of his magic at that moment.

He took a slow, shaky breath, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, staring up at the blue sky for a moment as he tried to calm himself down.

“...Theo, I’m gonna fuckin kill your father.” He grunted out after a moment, looking over at his boyfriend. “Or, I’m gonna take the rest of his limbs, and shove them up his ass, and then let you kill him.”

“I’d like the second option.” Theo huffed, shaking his head. Despite the obvious anger on his face, which was entirely understandable, there was an undeniable level of hurt in his eyes.

His father had just publicly disowned him. Even if he hated the man, that was still…

“Baby..?” Harry asked softly, reaching out and resting a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Theo grunted a bit in response.

“Can we go to Magical Menagerie?” He asked quietly. “I want to pet some of the cats.”

“Yeah, mate. Of course.” Blaise nodded. “Come on, let’s go…”

As their group began to walk through the alley, they shared a few nervous looks.

None of them knew what to do, or what to say, because this was not a situation any of them were prepared to deal with.

All they could do, however, was try and keep Theo’s spirits up for the next thirty-five minutes, that way they could reconvene with Lucius, who would almost definitely know what to do.

…They hoped.

—

Thankfully, being in Magical Menagerie and gently burying Theo in very, very soft Kneazle kittens was all it took to keep him from losing his shit too badly.

It did, however, cause him to burst into tears upon Lucius’ arrival, because he didn’t want to leave any of said Kneazle kittens, because he had grown very attached to them in the half hour he was being gently smothered by them.

So, in an effort to soothe the boy, and just make him feel a little bit better after discovering that he’d been disowned by his father through a bloody newspaper article?

Theo now had a Kneazle.

A little, brown tabby that he decided to name Espresso, and was carefully carrying her around against his chest as she made biscuits on his chest, purring like a little motorboat as her tail flicked back and forth.

After that incident, which also included Lucius holding Theo in a tight hug, murmuring words of comfort to him that the rest of the boys tried to ignore, because at that moment, all their friend needed was a bit of fatherly affection, they were able to set off for the rest of their shopping trip.

They stopped at Flourish and Blotts, as well as Obscurus Books, because Neville wanted to pick up a few more guides on foreign plants, and was really, really excited about his copy of Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties, which causes him to spend the rest of their trip excitedly discussing the properties of Gillyweed and Russian Water Lilies, both of which could allow a person to breathe underwater for a limited amount of time when consumed.

Harry, of course, offered to purchase some for his friend to grow in their basement, and despite his friend gently declining due to the fact that none of them were going to need to breathe underwater anytime soon, put an order in anyways.

He couldn’t resist spoiling his friends.

It was a problem at this point.

And, continuing to prove his addiction to buying things for his friends, he ended up purchasing assorted sweets boxes for everyone, and managed to snag a pair of hag stone earrings for Luna from a witch peddling her wares next to the sweets shop.

Lucius chuckled a bit when he saw Harry with his tall stack of gifts, his brow raised as he stepped forward and helped the boy steady them.

“Alright there, Harry?” He asked, taking the boxes from him as the boy slid his bag off his shoulder, holding it open so they could carefully slide the stack inside.

“Yep. Just making sure everyone gets something. I have boxes for you and Cissa in here too.”

The man sighed a bit, shaking his head. “You didn’t need to get us anything.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it. I have more money than I know what to do with, and I hate buying things for myself.”

“You’re allowed to buy things for yourself, Harry.”

“I know that. I just prefer buying things for other people.”

Lucius chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You spend far too much time with Narcissa. I swear, that woman wouldn’t purchase a thing for herself if I didn’t have to remind her that she was allowed to as well.”

Harry grinned at that, pulling his bag back up onto his shoulder and trailing after the man and his friends, who had all gathered themselves around Quality Quidditch Supplies, looking at the Bulgarian and Ireland jerseys that were being hung up inside in preparation for the World Cup.

He could hear Draco and Blaise quietly discussing each member of the team, making pre-emptive bets on who they think would win, while Theo and Neville hung back a little bit, the two of them cooing over Espresso, who had made herself very, very comfortable in his boyfriend’s arms, and was downright refusing to move a single inch.

When Lucius joined his son in discussing the teams- which, the two of them were both firmly on the side of Bulgaria, and even Harry could hear the teasing tone in Lucius’ voice as they discussed the players, knowing he was gently stirring the conversation towards Krum in order to ask his son questions about his crush.

Deciding to leave his friends be for a moment, Harry began to wander a bit, before his eyes locked onto a specific shop he had never seen before.

It was small, tucked onto a corner, and had an overly faded wooden sign above the door that he could barely read. Hell, if it weren’t for the rows and rows of jewelry displayed in the windows, he would have thought the store had closed down.

After glancing around a bit, he pushed the door open, causing a little bell to sound off and, seemingly, alert an elderly man in the very back of the shop, who quickly made his way out to the front, a smile on his face.

“Ah… Hello there, young man!” He laughed a bit, reaching out and shaking Harry’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m… Actually not sure.” Harry admitted softly. “I saw your displays in the window and I wanted to come and see what you had for sale.”

“Well, I’m very glad you stopped by. I hope I can help you find just what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Mr..?”

“Just call me Francis, son. Francis Moreau.”

“Okay, Francis.”

The man smiled, tilting his head as he looked at the boy. “So, are you thinking of getting a spot of jewelry for yourself, or for a loved one, young man?”

He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I want to get something for someone else. He’s very important to me, and…” Harry began.

“I understand. Would you say he’s more of a silver, or a gold wearing lad?”

“Silver, definitely. He looks lovely in gold, but he prefers silver.”

Francis nodded, ducking behind the counter at a speed that seemed almost unnatural for a man as old as him, and quickly flicking down different boxes with his wand.

“Necklaces, bracelets, rings, or earrings?”

“I think necklaces.”

“Wonderful… I have all sorts of styles to choose from. Simple, extravagant, pendants… I’d be more than happy to make a custom piece as well.”

Harry walked over to him, just barely ducking under another box as it floated over, before it gently settled on the counter with the others. The lids came off only a moment later, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Each of the necklaces were gorgeous, finely crafted and obviously made with utter adoration in every bend of the metal.

One, in particular, caught his eye, though.

It was a simple silver chain with a small, jar-like pendant on the bottom.

“What’s this one?” He asked softly, gesturing to it, and Francis gently lifted the box up, a smile on his face.

“This, young man, is a Victorian Intention Necklace.” He explained. “Traditionally given to the object of your deepest affections as a show of good faith and intent to marry, although nowadays, it's usually just filled with a bit of a colorful potion for a bit of fun.”

His eyes widened a bit, and he looked up at Francis.

“You put blood in it?”

“Traditionally, yes. Three drops are added, and when you give it to your lover, it will allow them to feel your heartbeat. Wherever you are in the world.”

Harry paused for a moment. He knew that Theo was rather traditional, especially when it came to things like blood magic and rituals, and while he wasn’t particularly opposed to the idea of being with him forever, they were way too young to even be thinking like that.

Although, the idea of giving his boyfriend a jar with his blood in it was also metal as fuck, and he had never been more enticed by something in his life.

“I’d like one. How much?” Harry smiled.

“Fifty-five galleons.”

He nodded, grabbing his coin purse and digging out the galleons, handing them to Francis before he reached into his pocket and grabbed his pocket knife, flicking it open.

“Do I just… Prick my finger, then?”

“Exactly right.” Francis agreed, carefully unsealing the lid of the jar and holding the small vial out to him, letting Harry gently prick his own finger and letting the necessary three drops of blood fall into it. Once they had what they needed, the elderly man resealed the jar, and he stuck his finger into his mouth to stop the bleeding, watching Francis as he gingerly packed the necklace up, handing it to the boy on the other side of the counter. “I hope your lover is overjoyed by your gift, young man. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Francis!” Harry smiled as he made his way back out of the small shop, running a hand through his hair as he took off back towards his friends, who were only now leaving Quality Quidditch Supplies, bags in hand.

“There you are!” Draco laughed, holding one of them out to him. “We took the liberty of getting you a Bulgarian jersey.”

“Perfect. Gotta support my boy’s home team.” He grinned, kissing Theo’s cheek as he took the bag, carefully maneuvering the box behind his back and popping it open, taking the necklace out. “Speaking of which… Hold still for a second, sweetheart?”

His boyfriend paused, looking at him with a raised brow as Harry slipped behind him, carefully clasping the necklace around his neck and pressing another kiss to just below his hairline.

It took Theo a second to register what had just happened, but when he picked up the small vial to look at it, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, looking back at his boyfriend in shock.

“I know what it means traditionally.” Harry murmured, looking up at him. “And it doesn’t have to mean that if you don’t want it to, but… You’ll be able to feel my pulse no matter where I am, and with the pendant you gave me, I’ll always be able to come home to you. I think it’s a pretty good deal for the two of us.”

Theo chuckled a bit, carefully handing Espresso over to Neville so he could grab his boyfriend’s face and kiss him.

“You fucking sap.” He murmured between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“As adorable as this public display of affection is, boys.” Lucius chided gently. “We are, in fact, in public, and we should try and get a bit more shopping done before we head back home.”

Oh, right.

Harry pulled away sheepishly, letting his boyfriend take his kitten back from their friend before grabbing his free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he smiled up at him, earning one right back as they began to follow after their friends again.

Lucius was right. They had some more shopping to get done.

Chapter Text

Summer seemed to fly by after that.

Days were spent lounging around Malfoy Manor and Zabini Villa, mixed in with a bit of summer homework, redecorating parts of Grimmauld Place, and accidentally rediscovering Walburga’s portrait, which, Harry immediately shoved back into another closet after putting about eight layers of spell-o-tape over her mouth to keep her quiet.

Draco and Neville’s Laboratories, as they had been affectionately nicknamed, were in full force. There were potions brewing near constantly, everything from simple Healing Potions and Essence of Dittany, to the more complex ones, like Sleeping Draughts, and even a few bottles of Existimulio Draughts, mostly as insurance.

Kreacher kept an eye on the potions when they weren’t at Grimmauld, something they were all appreciative about, because no one wanted to deal with a massive explosion.

Then, there were Neville’s plants, which were very rapidly starting to become their own entity within the home, as some of the vines from the Devil’s Snare he had propagated from a sample he’d gotten from Professor Sprout had burrowed into the walls themselves.

The house didn’t seem to mind that much, thankfully, but he was still concerned for the structural integrity, and had turned some of his glow lights to a low setting and kept them on the Snare at all times, hoping to keep it from spreading much further.

Blaise was continuing to practice his wandless magic, and had even been able to successfully produce a few floating flames without draining himself too much, and he walked around with them swirling around his head for over half the day after his success. As a result, Harry was now having him practice with trying to move things with his mind, like he always does when he doesn’t want to use his wand, and there had been limited success.

And by limited success, that meant that Blaise had successfully lodged a quill in the ceiling, and none of them really knew… How.

It was a mystery, and none of them were really keen on trying to figure out how to recreate it, lest something more valuable get stuck up there.

Neville’s, and by extension, Harry’s birthdays passed by without much fanfare. The former had decided to go and visit his parents at St. Mungo’s without his Gran for the first time ever, and when he returned, he was nearly in tears, clutching a toffee wrapper to his chest.

He hadn’t felt much like celebrating after that, but, he and Harry shared a slice of cake at midnight, as their own little way of acknowledging both days.

But, time continued to pass.

And before they knew it?

They were getting ready to leave for the Quidditch World Cup.

There was an excited, nervous energy all throughout Malfoy Manor the entire night, and when the kids all filed downstairs first thing that morning, dressed, carrying their packs, and completely exhausted, they were only a little bit surprised to see Narcissa and Lucius in the kitchen.

They were, however, surprised to see the two other adults sitting with them. A fair haired, pleasant faced man with smile lines in the corners of his eyes, and a dark haired, stern faced woman with wide, grey eyes.

Harry knew who they were immediately.

“Edward and Andromeda Tonks?” He said, his eyes lighting up a bit, causing all four adults to look over at them.

Edward smiled first, standing up and walking over, holding his hand out to them. “Ah, just Ted, please. Edward was my father. Or, well, Uncle Ted works too. Whichever one feels best for you.”

Harry shook his hand, a soft chuckle escaping him as he looked over at Draco, gesturing to the man. “It’s your Uncle.”

“Oh! Oh, shit!” Draco laughed, gingerly shaking Ted’s hand with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you all too! Now. Let’s see if I got this right… Harry, Draco, of course, then we have Theo, Blaise, Neville, and these three lovely ladies here are Daphne, Luna, and Hermione.” He said, pointing to each teenager one by one, managing to get them all correct. “Right?”

“Uh… Right.” Daphne nodded, slightly taken aback. “How did you..?”

“Cissy’s shown us pictures when we come by for tea.” Andromeda said softly, standing up and making her way over, and Harry didn’t miss the way Neville flinched at the sight of her. She paused, taking a step back from him and looking at him apologetically. “Sorry, love… But, it is nice to finally properly meet you all.”

“Wait, you’ve been by for tea? How come we’ve never seen you before now?”

Narcissa made her way over, then, quickly answering for her older sister. It was at that moment that Harry noticed, with a bit of surprise, that the woman was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a long sleeved black shirt, and a cardigan on top.

She looked so… Muggle.

And, oddly enough, was dressed a lot like his mum.

“I usually asked them to come over when you all were out and about.” She said softly. “Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting you to come down so early… Ted and Andie are going to come to the Cup with us, but they were going to get there early to start setting up the tent.”

“We were just stopping by to grab our tickets, and then we got roped into a cup of tea… Then another.” Andromeda sighed, mock glaring at her sister, before turning back to the kids in front of her. Ted, however, just chuckled.

“Dromeda likes to plan things meticulously.” He said softly, leaning over to kiss his wife’s shoulder. “We’re a little bit off on our plans. But! Honestly, this is probably a good thing.”

“And why’s that?”

“Now we can just apparate in one trip! Side along the kids with us!”

There was a pause amongst everyone in the room, before Lucius nodded a bit.

“No, no. He has a point. Eight kids, two for each of us to take… We can just, apparate to the forest beyond the campgrounds instead of making multiple trips.”

Harry looked over at Lucius, his more muggle styled dark jeans and shirt making him startle again.

“Holy fuck you’re dressed like muggles.” He said, the words flying out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I have never seen you dress like muggles.”

“Do we look alright?” Narcissa asked, raising a brow. “Ted said we looked normal, but…”

“You’re dressed fine, don’t worry, it was just… Surprising.”

“Well, the Cup is being held in an area with a lot of muggles about.” Ted explained simply. “It’s easier to just, try and blend in, instead of having those Ministry blokes Confund and Obliviate them every five minutes.”

“Ohhh, that makes way more sense…” Draco murmured. “That’s why you told us to wear our muggle clothes, then?”

“Exactly, love.” Lucius nodded, kissing his son’s forehead. “Alright… We should head out. We can eat some breakfast once we get to the site. Ah… Draco, Daphne, you come with me. Harry, Theo, with Cissa. Blaise and Luna with Andromeda, and Ted will take Neville and Hermione. Any objections?”

When there were none, the adults all nodded, quickly gathering up their designated kids and grabbing their bags, starting to head out the door to go beyond the apparition wards. Before they left, Narcissa looked over at Teeky with a smile.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, Teeky, love.” She said softly. “If you could feed the owls and the cats, that would be wonderful.”

“Of course, Mistress. The owls and the kitties will be well fed, and well cuddled by Teeky.”

“You’re an angel. Alright, boys, are you ready to go?”

“Yep!” Theo nodded, running a hand through his hair as he followed Narcissa out, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him with them.

The trio trailed after the rest of the group, listening to the soft chatter between them as the sweet scent of the early morning dew filled the air. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, just a twinge darker than Theo’s eyes, and Harry shivered when he felt them step past the wards.

It was strange, the lack of magic in the air as soon as they were through the barrier made him feel nauseous for a moment, because he’d just gotten so used to being constantly surrounded by it.

He didn’t have much time to think about that, however, as before he could really get his bearings about him, Narcissa placed a hand on his and Theo’s shoulders and apparated them away.

—

“Harry, honey, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay.” Harry rasped out between gags, trying to reassure Narcissa that she didn’t do anything wrong. “I didn’t say anyth-”

He was cut off by another painful retch, and he felt Blaise flinch above him. The other boy was holding his hair back, crouched by his side as he lost the last of the contents of his stomach in a bush, about thirty yards away from where they needed to go.

“Ugh…” He groaned softly.

“You gonna make it, mate?” His friend asked softly.

“Yeah. I gotta Puke and Rally, we have shit to do.”

“Puke and Rally.” Blaise shook his head with a laugh, grabbing the glass of water that Narcissa had conjured for him and giving it to Harry, letting him rinse his mouth out and drink some water before he did a quick cleaning charm on his mouth. “Good?”

“Good.”

The two of them carefully stood up, his friend ruffling his hair a bit to try and get it back into place, heading back over to the rest of the group to grab their things. After reassuring everyone that he was, in fact, totally fine, they made their way out of the trees, out into a stretch of an absolutely gorgeous misty moor. Theo was by his side in an instant, their hands locking together as he leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“You and your stomach.” He muttered a bit. “You get nauseous so easily.”

“Trust me, I know. I think it’s a side effect of all the coffee I’ve drank over the years.”

“Ah, there we are!” Ted laughed, making his way over to two oddly dressed, exhausted, and grouchy looking wizards. Both were dressed as muggles, it seemed, although it almost looked like aliens attempting to dress like humans, unlike the Malfoys and the Tonkses. One man wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes, while his colleague wore a kilt and a poncho.

“Malfoy, party of ten?” Ted said with a wide grin, and the man in the poncho nodded, looking at the long roll of parchment in his hands.

“Malfoy… Malfoy…” He murmured. “Ah, yes, about a quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager’s called Mr. Roberts.”

“Thanks, mate.” Ted nodded, before he waved for everyone to follow him, deciding to lead the group down to the site. Lucius took up the rear, while Andromeda and Narcissa moved to either side of the group of teenagers, like they were all working to keep the kids contained as much as possible, which made sense, considering the weather.

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward another dark forest on the horizon.

When he looked back at the cottage, he could see an older man, likely the only actual muggle for miles, and Ted grinned again when he saw him.

“Morning! Mr. Roberts, right?” He called, and the man nodded.

“Morning, and yep. Who’re you?”

“Malfoys. Party of ten, ah… Two tents?” He said, looking back at the rest of the group. Narcissa nodded in response, and Ted turned back towards Mr. Roberts. “Yep, two tents. Booked a couple weeks ago?”

“Aye.” Mr. Roberts nodded, consulting a list tacked to the door. “You’ve got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?”

“That’s it, yes.”

“Paying now?”

“Yes! Ah-” Ted paused, fumbling around in his pockets for a moment with a mounting look of panic. Andromeda sighed affectionately, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket for him and handing it to him.

“There you are, love.” She said softly, and his shoulders slumped in relief.

“Oh what would I do without you?” He laughed a bit, opening his wallet and sorting through it for a moment, grabbing the bills he needed easily and handing them to Mr. Roberts, who seemed appreciative that there wasn’t any issues with actually getting paid.

“You’re the first group to not have any trouble with money.” He chuckled a bit, taking the cash and counting out the change. “I had two try to pay me with gold coins the size of hubcaps not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Really?” Ted asked, obviously feigning shock. Harry made eye contact with Hermione across the group, the two of them fighting back giggles.

Wixen always struggled with muggle things, it seemed, and money was no different.

“Never been this crowded before.” Mr. Roberts said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. “Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. . . And it’s people from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There’s a bloke walking ’round in a kilt and a poncho.”

Hermione had to turn around to properly fight back her giggles, then.

“Statute of Secrecy my ass…” Harry murmured. “How many wix do you think have just been blatantly talking about shit around him?”

“Too many.” Theo replied softly.

The old man seemed like he was going to speak again, but before he could, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts’s front door.

“Obliviate!” He said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts’s eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face.

“A map of the campsite for you.” Mr. Roberts said placidly to Ted, who took the paper with an expression of discomfort.

“Thanks… Have a nice day, Mr. Roberts.” He said quickly, starting to hustle everyone away from him.

“You as well…”

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he began to whisper to Lucius.

“Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman’s not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-muggle security! Blimey, I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“For your sake, William, I hope it is soon.” Lucius nodded sympathetically, before the wizard apparated away again, and his expression hardened. “Damned Bagman…”

“Isn’t Mr. Bagman the Head of Magical Games and Sports?” Draco asked his father. “Shouldn’t he know not to talk about Quidditch around muggles? Plus, won’t Mr. Roberts end up… I dunno, a bit funny if they keep doing that?”

“Right on both counts, love.” Narcissa sighed, shaking her head. “Ludo is useless at the best of times.”

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious.

Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several fancy dogs tethered at the entrance. A little further on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

“Oh this is fucking maddening.” Blaise scoffed a bit. “No wonder poor Mr. Roberts probably feels like he’s gone mad…”

“Quite.” Andromeda clicked her tongue, looking at one of the tents with an expression that could only be disgust. “It’s like they’re asking for trouble…”

“Aha! Found it!” Ted shouted, jogging ahead and standing happily at their campsite, where a small sign had been hammered into the ground, proudly displaying Malfoy upon it. “Alright… Let’s pitch these tents!”

“We have to do it the muggle way, unfortunately…” Narcissa said softly, taking her pack off of her back and helping Lucius unpack his. “No magic allowed with all these muggles around, after all.”

“Oh, I got it.” Harry shook his head, carefully grabbing the tents from the adults and setting them out, starting to set the first one up. He could feel the stares of the rest of the group, and he looked up in confusion. “What?”

“How do you know how to..?” Neville asked quietly, and he chuckled.

“Mum and Dad made me learn. We weren’t camping people, but Mum liked going hunting on occasion, and we always had a tent pitched for the weather, even if we weren’t staying long.”

“Here, let me help.” Hermione hummed, plopping onto the ground next to him and starting to help with the poles and pegs. It took a few minutes, and a couple of broken poles that had to be quickly mended with some magic, but, they were able to get the tents up. They weren’t overly fancy, or extravagant, but they were high quality, muggle looking tents.

“Alright!” Harry called, throwing his arms up in victory. “Tents are up!”

“Perfect. Thank you, love.” Narcissa smiled softly, walking over and ducking into the tent, the rest of the group following behind her. Once everyone was inside, Harry scooted his way in as well, and looked around curiously.

He knew it would be much bigger on the inside, many magic things were, but this was really, really nice.

It was about the size of a large, three room flat, with a kitchen and bathroom to the side, and a short hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“This will be our tent.” Ted hummed. “The boys tent, I mean. The ladies will have the tent next door, just to keep things appropriate.”

“Ah. Yes. Gotta keep the ladies separate so their delicate sensitivities don’t have to see these two.” Daphne snorted, pointing at Harry and Theo over her shoulder. “I feel as though I may faint every time I see them snog.”

“Don’t tempt me, Daph.” Theo warned, a grin on his face. “Harry’s looking very snoggable.”

“I threw up not even half an hour ago. I’m about as un-snoggable as a person can be right now, even if I did clean myself up.” Harry scoffed, walking over to the sofa and dropping his bag onto it. “I am, however, starving. Do we need to go and get some water to cook?”

“Could you, Harry?” Andromeda asked, looking over at him as she made her way into the kitchen. “I think Ted’s got a map, there should be a spigot around here somewhere…”

“I’ll come with.” Luna hummed, looking over at Harry. “You’ll need more hands.”

“Thanks, Lue. Think it’ll be good with just the two of us?”

She paused for a moment, before she nodded. “Yep. Let’s grab some pots.”

The two of them made their way into the kitchen, grabbing up the tea kettle and a couple of large pots, just so they had some extra water.

After getting the map from Ted, who asked them probably five or six times whether or not they needed some extra help, they set off out of the tent, following the path to the nearest fresh water spigot and blinking sunspots from their eyes.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around as the wixen around them began to slowly wake up, most of them being the families with small children, who, unfortunately, ran on their own internal clocks.

A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew closer to him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent, right as the slug was about to explode.

Instinctively, Harry lunged forward, kicking the bulbous thing away from the little boy and watching as it popped in the air like a balloon. He winced a bit, feeling bad for the little creature, but knelt down, smiling at the boy and gently taking the wand from him.

“Sorry, buddy… Slug go bye bye!” He smiled, and the little boy giggled, quietly repeating ‘slug go bye bye’ as his mother scooped him up in her arms.

“I’m so sorry- I hadn’t even realized that he’d snuck out of the tent.” She sighed in exasperation, taking the wand when he held it out to her. “Thank you so much. If I had to clean slug guts off of him…”

“It’s fine. He’s just a baby, they’re little menaces.”

“You have a sibling?”

Harry hesitated a bit, nodding. “Yeah. Little sister. She’s about his age. Maybe a little older.”

The mother nodded, smiling a bit. “That’s lovely… I hope she’s doing well.”

“Thank you.” He smiled back. “Have a nice morning, ma’am. And stay out of trouble, little dude.”

He pulled away from the two of them, quickly hurrying back to Luna’s side and continuing to walk, letting out a shaky breath.

“...It’s… Getting easier to talk about them.” He explained when he realized she was looking at him with a worried gaze. “I dunno why, I just… It’s getting easier.”

“It happens.” Luna reassured him. “It still hurts, but you aren’t in despair every time you think of them. That’s good. That means you’re healing.”

He nodded a bit, tilting his head up to look at the pale blue sky.

“I know. It’s just still… Weird, I guess.”

“Grief is weird, Harry.”

“It so fucking is…”

The further they walked, the more and more people they saw, most of them adult wixen emerging to start cooking breakfast for themselves and their families.

Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands, while others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work.

Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read The Salem Witches’ Institute.

Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn’t understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

When they finally reached the spigot, there were only two other people there. Two girls, sisters, from what Harry could tell, who were visibly struggling with getting the spout twisted.

“Do you need any help?” He asked politely, causing the older of the two girls to look at him.

She was shockingly beautiful, in a way that reminded Harry a bit of Narcissa, at least in looks, and it was obvious in the air about her that she knew exactly how gorgeous she was.

When she didn’t respond, however, he just raised a brow, and gestured to the spigot again.

“Need some help?” He repeated, and she nodded, gently moving her little sister out of the way and letting him set down his kettle and pot, easily twisting the knob and filling their kettle up for them.

“...Thank you.” The older girl said softly, her French accent thick and pleasant. “For your help.”

“It’s no problem.” Harry shook his head. “These things can be a bit tricky…”

He quickly pulled their kettle out, switching it with his own and handing it to the little girl. “Careful. It’s heavy.”

Her sister took it immediately, smiling at him.

“Thank you again. You were very kind.”

He smiled back, mostly out of politeness. “Again, not a problem. I’m always happy to help.”

The two of them walked away, and Luna crouched down at his side, helping him switch out the kettle with a pot.

“Those girls were Veela.” She hummed thoughtfully.

“Veela?”

“They’re like sirens. Very beautiful, they can lure in anyone who’s attracted to women because of it. Those girls were only part, though.”

“Oh. That tracks, then. The only woman I’ve ever been attracted to was Winona Ryder.”

Luna nodded solemnly. “She’s gorgeous. I understand entirely.”

“Right?” Harry chuckled, turning off the spigot and helping her pick up her pots before grabbing his own. “Okay… Let’s get this water back so Andromeda can start cooking. I’ll ask if she needs help at all, but honestly, she seems like the type of woman to banish everyone from the kitchen when she’s cooking.”

“She is. She won’t let you cook.”

“Damn.”

—

After breakfast, Ted and Narcissa had gently shooed all of the kids back out, telling them to go enjoy the festivities while everyone was still gearing up for the game, but to come back at five so they could start getting ready for the game.

Once they were alone, Narcissa sighed in relief, running a hand through her hair and taking a seat at the dining table, closing her eyes.

“Thank goodness… I really do hope they’re able to have some fun.” She said softly, looking up gratefully as Andromeda slid her a cup of tea. “Thank you, Andie…”

“Of course, Cissy… Now, what’s going on? What was it that you needed to tell us?” Her sister frowned, sitting across from her at the dining table as their husbands took a seat as well.

“It’s Lucius’ mark.” Narcissa said, deciding not to beat around the bush. Lucius nodded, pulling his arm up onto the table and rolling up his sleeve, showing off the burning, scabbing mark on his arm. “It’s… It’s doing this.”

Ted’s eyes widened, and she watched as her brother-in-law’s years of healer training kicked in, and he sat up, immediately starting to check the other man’s arm over.

And, of course, she knew exactly why.

The mark looked fresh, but not the way it had all those years ago when he’d been marked originally.

No, it looked like he’d just been branded, the way muggles did their cattle. A horrible, blistering scald in the shape of the Dark Mark.

“...How did this..?” Ted asked quietly, his face pale.

“It started darkening in late June.” Lucius explained, wincing when the other man’s hand brushed against the wound. “And then a few nights ago, I woke up in fucking agony, and it was burning. I don’t know what happened, or why, but…”

Andromeda’s lips pursed, and she sat up more. “...That’s a curse wound, Lucius.” She said after a moment, and Narcissa looked away, dread pooling in her stomach.

She knew exactly how bad a curse wound could be.

“When you were marked, you swore an oath, right?”

“I did.”

“...You broke it. You broke your oath, and now the curse is active.”

“How would we..?”

Ted sucked in a sharp breath, and he ran his hands through his hair, standing up and starting to pace.

“I would say a Purging Ritual, but those don’t always work for curses.” He murmured. “And I heard that the goblin healers just did one recently, so they won’t be too keen on doing another because of how dangerous they are… We could always try and flush it out with potions, or… Or we could remove the affected skin and flesh.”

Lucius made a choked noise, and Narcissa’s hand shot out to grab his uninjured one.

“Remove the..?” She asked quietly.

“Muggle method. Debridement.” Ted quickly explained. “It doesn’t seem to be too bad. Just… The removal of layers of skin and tissue until the dead and infected parts are gone. We can talk more about it later, because I’m going to need to do a bit more research, but…”

“I understand.” Lucius nodded after a moment, a shaky breath escaping him. “Thank you, Ted. I-”

Whatever sentiment he was going to say was cut off by the sudden arrival of Neville, who came bursting through the front of the tent.

“Sorry! Forgot my money!” He called, rushing into the bedrooms and rushing right back out without breaking stride. “See you later!”

The four adults stared after him for a moment, all of them secretly relieved that he hadn’t stopped to look at what they were doing.

After a moment, Andromeda let out a quiet laugh, looking over at her sister with a smile.

“...I really don’t know how you manage that many kids.” She said softly. “I can barely handle Nymphadora, and she’s a grown adult.”

“...They’re easier to manage than you would expect.” Narcissa chuckled, shaking her head. “...But, we’ll talk more about this later. Today is supposed to be a fun day, and…”

“No, no. Cissa, it’s okay.” Ted shook his head, smiling reassuringly. “Now that I have an idea of what I need to do, I can look up some methods of treatment… But, you have a point. Today is supposed to be fun, so I’m going to go and get some Dittany out of my bag, put it on that wound, and bandage it up so we can go have our fun.”

She nodded, running a hand through her hair and resting her head on her husband’s shoulder, closing her eyes a bit.

The fact that Ted was so confident that he’d be able to find something to help made her feel better, but… The fact that the mark had started darkening, and then burned, and adding in the two Horcruxes in her possession?

There were too many coincidences happening all at once.

Something was happening.

And as she looked across the table, making eye contact with her big sister, who was wearing a matching grim look of concern?

She knew she wasn’t just seeing things.

Chapter Text

“Cissa, here!” Harry said quickly, reaching into his bag and pulling out another set of Omnioculars to the woman, who smiled, gratefully accepting them and holding them close.

They were a set of strange, brass binoculars, covered in knobs and twists, which almost acted like little cameras, allowing the user to replay, slow down, and even have a play by play appear in their line of sight.

Truth be told, it reminded Harry of watching football matches on the telly with his parents, and the way they would dissect any moves made during the games.

He and Blaise had purchased one for everyone in the group, that way no one was left out, and Hermione was eagerly twisting each of the knobs, looking around in utter fascination at everything around them, nearly bumping into trees and other people with every step.

“Thank you, Harry, dear.” She chuckled. “You and Blaise must have spent a small fortune on these…”

“Eh.” He shrugged, shaking his head as he smiled at her. “What’s a small fortune when it comes to a fun family outing?”

“Fair enough.”

“Hermione, sweetheart, look out for that tree!” Lucius called, rushing past them and quickly steering the girl in question away from the large pine that she was about to smack face first into, his shoulders slumping in relief when she was pulled away.

“Oops… Sorry…” She said softly, her face heating up as she looked away. “I’m just excited.”

“I know you are, love, but lets leave those off for a bit?”

“Yeah.”

A soft laugh erupted about the group as they walked, mingling in with the other groups of people as they hurried into the woods, where a long, winding, lantern lit trail led them forward.

Harry couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at his lips, his hand slipping into Theo’s and squeezing. Like most of the group, they were wearing their Bulgarian jerseys, although Luna had decided to go fifty-fifty, and was wearing a Bulgarian jersey, with an Ireland hat that was shooting small fireworks out of the top, and a red and green skirt.

She almost looked like a walking Christmas decoration, but, that was fairly consistent with Luna, so no one batted an eye.

They walked through the woods for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten manors would fit comfortably inside it, and maybe even have room for another half.

“It seats a hundred thousand!” Draco shouted to him over the noise. “The Ministry has been working on it all year, and it’s covered in muggle repelling charms!”

“What do those do?!” Harry shouted back.

Ted turned to look at them, a bright grin on his face. “Every time a muggle gets too close, they have to dash away because they’ve suddenly remembered an urgent appointment!”

“It probably drives them mad, not remembering exactly what they needed to do, once they get away!” Andromeda chuckled. “Oh! Lucius, do you have the tickets?”

“Right here!” The man in question nodded, pulling them from his pocket and handing them to her, letting her trot up to the front of the group to give the tickets to the Ministry witch running the entrance.

“Prime seats, up in the top box!” She laughed a bit, stamping each of the tickets. “Straight up the stairs, as high as you can go!”

“Thank you!” They all chorused, heading into the stadium and starting to head up the royal purple colored staircase.

They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right as they kept going higher and higher. At one point, Daphne got frustrated with her boots and took them off, as the slight heel was making it somewhat difficult to climb, and was continuing up the stairs barefooted, which is how they learned that the carpets were almost shockingly plush.

Not the kind of thing expected for a stadium staircase.

At last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty-five purple and gold chairs stood in two rows there, and they filed into the front seats, as they were the first ones there.

Harry leaned over the railing a bit, just to take a look around, and a rush of excitement flowed through him.

A hundred thousand wixen were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself, and the field looked smooth as velvet from their position.

Across from them, at about eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again.

It took a moment for Harry to realize that it was, actually, like a giant advertisement screen, mostly because the writing on it was a bit difficult to read.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family; Safe, Reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer… Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!... Gladrags Wizardwear: Located in London, Paris, and Hogsmeade…

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who can’t read that sign.” Blaise groaned, squinting a bit as he bobbed his head back and forth, trying to steady his vision.

“It’s not just you. That cursive is a mess.” Narcissa shook her head. “Whoever enchanted it has horrible penmanship…”

Harry was about to add to that, but, before he could, his eyes landed on a small house elf in the second row, so small that her legs were sticking out in front of her, and her hands gripping the seat as though she was afraid she was going to fall.

“Oh, shit…” He murmured, taking off his bag and setting it in his seat, turning to Theo and kissing his cheek. “Be right back.”

“Hm? Where are you going?” His boyfriend asked in confusion, causing Harry to gently tilt his head towards the petrified elf. When he saw her, Theo sucked in a sharp breath, nodding solemnly. “I’ll save your seat, love.”

“Thank you.”

Harry quickly made his way over to her, his eyes filled with concern as he knelt down to her level, startling the poor elf.

“Ah- sorry, sorry.” He said softly, holding his hands out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seem absolutely terrified…”

“O-oh. It is very kind of you to ask, but I is alright.” The house elf nodded. “I-i is just afraid of heights, sir, but Master asked me to save him a seat in the Top Box, so Winky does what she is told.”

Harry frowned more, feeling himself bristle a bit. He couldn’t imagine asking Kreacher to do something that terrified him like this, so he didn’t understand why this house elf, Winky’s, master would do something like this to her.

“Do you want me to sit with you, Winky?” He asked softly. “So you feel a little bit safer?”

“O-oh, that not be necessary, sir. Winky be just fine.”

“...Will you be upset if I sit here, though?”

“...No.”

“Then I’ll sit here until you can leave.” He smiled, settling down on the floor next to Winky and pulling his knees up to his chest. “My name is Harry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Winky.”

“W-winky be pleased to meet you too, young mister Harry. You is here with your family?”

“I am.” Harry hummed. “My cousins, and my friends, and my boyfriend.”

“That is very nice, young mister Harry.” Winky lit up a bit. “You is a very kind wizard, coming to sit with Winky…”

“I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You looked absolutely petrified up there… I would never ask my elf, Kreacher, to do something like this.”

He could see a flash of recognition in Winky’s eyes, but before she could say anything, another shockingly loud group came clamouring up the stairs, and Harry lifted his head, his heart sinking when he saw the mob of redheads making their way up.

His eyes met the father’s first, and, for the briefest of moments, he could see hesitation in his gaze, but it quickly faded away as he herded his children up into the top box. Winky rested a hand on his shoulder.

“...Winky be alright now, young mister Harry.” She said softly, like she sensed the way he tensed up at the arrival of the Weasley family. “She can sit here by herself, now.”

“Are you sure?” Harry frowned. “I can stay right here.”

Winky shook her head, smiling a bit, and he sighed, knowing that winning an argument against a house elf was not something easily done.

“Alright, but if you need me, I’ll be right over there, yeah?”

“Thank you, young mister Harry.”

He smiled a bit, pushing himself to his feet and heading back to his seat, looking over at his friends, who all had matching looks of distaste when they saw the group that had joined them. Their gazes softened upon seeing Fred and George, who smiled right back at them, but the rest of the family wasn’t as lucky.

It was then that Harry realized one very, very specific problem.

Mr. Weasley, and Lucius, had locked eyes.

The last time he had seen those two men interact, it had turned into a fight, and his dad had needed to break it up.

He could see the tension brewing, but it was, thankfully, interrupted by the arrival of Minister Bones and a man in a yellow Quidditch uniform.

Narcissa, who was sitting on Theo’s other side, leaned over.

“Minister Bones is with Ludo Bagman. He’s the one who was-”

“Making poor Mr. Roberts need to be Obliviated a thousand times? I already dislike him.” Harry huffed a bit, watching as the Minister and Bagman greeted everyone, before Bagman turned to Minister Bones.

“So. Are you ready, ma’am?” He asked.

“Let the games begin, Ludo.” She chuckled a bit, taking her seat and smiling over at Harry. “Evening, Harry.”

“Evening, Minister.” Harry smiled back, the hairs on his neck bristling as he felt someone glaring at him, likely one of the Weasleys. “Settling in alright?”

“As well as one can. I won’t keep you long, dear. Enjoy the Cup.”

“You as well.”

As he turned back towards the front, Bagman whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, did a quick Sonorus and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium. His voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message, and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, as well as he and his own group, roared their approval.

A door opened on the bottom of the field, and a hundred pale, beautiful women stormed out onto the field in a sort of dance, their skin glowing like the full moon and their hair flying like halos behind them.

Luna’s words from earlier in the day rang in his ears, then, and a slight pit formed in his stomach.

Veela.

Music began to fill the stadium, and the Veela began to move as one, like a synchronized dance, and a strange hush had fallen over the stadium.

He looked around, and, with a dawning moment of realization, nearly burst out laughing.

The only people in his row who seemed even mildly interested in the Veela were Daphne and Blaise, and even then, their attention was only held for a moment before they seemed bored again.

The Weasleys, however, were all entranced, except for four of them. Mr. Weasley, one of his older sons, George, and the Weaslette, who were all laughing at the others and trying to hold them in their seats.

Theo snickered a bit, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“We’re all so gay. Oh my god.” He said, starting to laugh harder. “Either we’re all gay or too in love with our partners to give a fuck.”

“Exactly.”

The music stopped as suddenly as it began, and angry shouts filled the stadium as the Veela headed off to one side, settling down to watch the game. Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

Yes, they were beautiful, but the whole world didn’t need to stop for them. They had a game to play.

“And now!” Bagman called out, his voice raspy and a bit hoarse, like his mouth had just gone dry. “Kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

As soon as he was done speaking, what looked to be a giant green and gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arched suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light.

The crowd cheered, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands.

“Leprechauns!” Neville shouted, an excited laugh escaping him as gold coins began to fall from the sky. “The gold isn’t actually real! It’ll disappear in a few hours!”

“I figured as much!” Harry cackled, grabbing a few of the coins and stacking them.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome- The Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you- Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova!”

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand-Krum!”

A sharp, excited noise came from Draco’s throat, causing Blaise to snicker, which then ended up with the two boys in a bit of a shoving match, laughing and scowling at each other in equal measure.

Harry, however, pulled his Omnioculars up to his face so he could see Krum, wanting to see exactly why his friend seemed to be so smitten with the Seeker.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and almost a bit sick looking, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey, if the bird of prey obviously did not want to be a bird of prey, and just wanted to be left alone.

He could relate to that, honestly.

“And now, please greet- The Irish National Quidditch Team!” Shouted Bagman. “Presenting- Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand- Lynch!”

Seven green blurs swept onto the field, and Harry spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word “Firebolt” on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival none, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Harry spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open, sending the four Quidditch balls up into the air.

With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot up after the balls, and the game was on.

“And it’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!” Bagman shouted, desperately trying to keep track of what was happening in front of him.

It was Quidditch as Harry had never seen it played before. He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was incredible, the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

Harry spun the slow dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the play-by-play button on the top, and he was immediately watching in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

He could hear his friends cheering beside him, with Draco screaming excitedly every time Krum came shooting past them on his hunt for the Snitch. Theo’s hand still hadn’t left his, and he could feel his boyfriend’s pulse racing as they squeezed each other.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. PORSKOFF PLOY flashed up next, as Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran.

One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran’s path. Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle, and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it, and then-

“I’m getting fucking motion sick!” Harry heard Ted shout, right as the Quaffle was knocked from Levski’s arms and stolen by Troy, who lobbed it straight into the goal, giving Ireland ten points.

“I am too! Don’t worry!” Narcissa laughed, setting her Omnioculars in her lap. She flashed a smile over at Harry and Theo, who smiled right back. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Something fizzy, please?” Harry called back.

“I might just get us all something fizzy!”

He pulled his and Theo’s legs up into their seats as she stood up and shuffled past, her hand gently brushing across the tops of their heads as she did so.

They turned back to the game once she disappeared out of the box, only to hear massive cheers as the game turned more intense.

Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, nearly striking them at every possible turn. This, of course, threw off their strategies, as they now needed to dodge some of the most on point Bludgers that Harry had ever seen.

Granted, none of them ever had to deal with the Harry-Seeking Bludgers that he had to deal with his first two years at Hogwarts, but he digressed.

As soon as Bulgaria made a goal, the Veelas began to dance again, and he got to watch more than half of the audience go completely mental once again. Bulgaria, of course, took that moment of distraction that most of the Ireland players had to score two more goals before the Veela stopped dancing.

As soon as they were back to themselves, however, the Ireland players came back with a vengeance.

The game got even more violent from there, with even more Bludgers being sent back and forth, striking players in the sides of the head and sending them tumbling through the air. At one point, the Bulgarian Keeper and an Ireland Chaser got into a fistfight, and the Keeper got a foul for using ‘too many elbows’.

It was chaos, and Harry could barely keep up with it.

Then, one of the Irish Beaters, Quigley, swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough.

It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd. Krum’s nose looked broken, and there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn’t blow his whistle, due to the fact that one of the Veela, who was furious with him for trying to kick them off the field in the middle of the game, had sent a ball of fire right into the bristles of his fucking broom and set him ablaze.

Harry flinched, his hand instinctively coming up to his face.

Broken noses hurt, and he was impressed that Krum hadn’t called for a timeout on his own, because he just couldn’t see.

However, it took him a moment to realize why Krum hadn’t called for a time out.

The fucking Snitch.

Krum dove, and so did Lynch.

It was a Wronski Feint. Something that Harry himself had pulled off on multiple occasions.

Except it wasn’t a feint. It was the real deal.

“Holy shit holy shit holy shit-” He could hear Luna whispering as she stood up, leaning over the railing to get a better view. Andromeda was holding onto her by the back of her jersey, keeping her from tumbling over the edge with a single hand.

And then, it happened.

Lynch crashed, Krum didn’t.

And Bulgaria had the Snitch.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden, and entirely unexpected, end of the match.

“FUCK!” Theo shouted at the same time, throwing his hands into the air dramatically and falling back into his seat, looking over at Harry with big, sad eyes. “We lost…”

Harry chuckled a bit, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips as the World Cup was brought up into the box, so Minister Bones could present it to the Ireland Team, who had shot up to do their victory lap, while the Bulgarian Team disappeared into the stands.

“Yeah, but we had fun, right?” He smiled, and Theo nodded, his own smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah, we did.”

Theo sat up a bit, pressing another kiss to his lips, before he turned, hearing the doors to the top box open once again.

Narcissa had returned, looking slightly frazzled and carrying an armful of drinks, and the Bulgarian Team had followed her up. She made her way over to them, passing out their bottles of what Harry quickly realized was like a wixen version of ginger ale, before she turned to look at the team.

“So, Ireland won, but Krum caught the Snitch?” She asked, and Draco answered for her.

“Krum pulled off a perfect feint but lost by ten.” He groaned, although his eyes had landed on the still bloody Seeker, and a harsh blush was rapidly rising on his cheeks. “...Oh, Merlin…”

“Oh my god. Draco.” Harry teased, a wide smile on his face. “Your crush is in the top box. What are you gonna do?”

“Hide under the seat.”

“No!” Daphne and Theo both shouted, lunging to grab their friend as he tried to do exactly what he had said he would, pulling him back up as the two of them made eye contact.

“Hold him. I’ll be right back. Harry, come with me.” Theo said quickly, standing up and pulling his boyfriend with him.

“Whuh- Okay?” Harry blinked a few times, letting himself be led over to the Bulgarian team and, specifically, to Krum. Before he could ask what they were doing, however, Theo began to speak.

“Здравей, извинявай, че те безпокоя. Моят блондинен приятел има страхотно нещо за теб и искам да го гледам как полудява, когато говориш с него.” He said softly, his voice dropping a few pitches as he pointed over at Draco, who was still trying to fight Daphne off.

Harry, however, felt his brain short circuit.

Oh fuck? Theo spoke Bulgarian?

And also: Oh fuck. Theo spoke Bulgarian.

Something in him seemed to click into place, and with a rush of heat to his cheeks he realized, horribly and hilariously, that he really liked it when Theo spoke Bulgarian.

Krum paused for a moment, his eyes widening before he responded, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

“Бледото момче? С русото момиче?”

“Да, този.”

“...Хмм. Добре.”

And then, amazingly, Krum walked right over to Draco and began to speak with him, his heavily accented voice softly carrying through the room as the rest of his team both spoke with Minister Bones, and watched him out of the corner of their eyes.

Harry looked over at Theo, his eyes wide.

“...I didn’t realize you speak Bulgarian.” He said quietly, and his boyfriend raised a brow.

“I’ve never spoken it around you. How would you know?”

“I dunno, I just… I didn’t realize.”

Theo smiled. “My mother was Bulgarian, remember? I spoke it before I ever learned English. My father didn’t like me using it after she died, but… I’ve kept practicing over the years.“

He nodded a bit, and he couldn’t stop the next words from spilling out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried.

“Your voice is really fucking hot when you speak it, by the way.”

Then, it was Theo’s turn to blush, before a devious grin spread across his lips, and he leaned in, whispering in Harry’s ear.

“Мога да кажа каквото искам и ще си помислите, че е горещо. Пиле на грил.”

“...Oh. I hate you so much right now, Theo.” He laughed a bit, covering his face with his free hand. “You’re going to use that to your advantage. Aren’t you?”

“Absolutely I am. Now come on, let’s go watch Draco panic.”

Harry smiled, letting Theo pull him back over to where their friends were sitting, all of them watching as Draco did, indeed, panic, trying to hold a conversation with Krum while also keeping himself from acting like a fool.

And, to his delight, he also watched Lucius pull a few galleons from his pocket and pass them to Narcissa, a smug smile on her face as he did so.

She winked at Harry, pressing a finger to her lips as she tucked the coins into her pocket, settling back into her seat as the rest of the people in the stadium began to file out, heading back to their tents for the night.

It had been a damn good game, and they were all absolutely exhausted.

And Harry couldn’t wait to try and convince Theo to talk to him in Bulgarian just a little bit more.

Chapter Text

Watching Draco have a near panic attack at the mere fact that Viktor Krum was talking to him was one of the most entertaining things that Harry had ever seen, only made better by the fact that Krum seemed genuinely interested in him, because he was fighting so very hard to not fanboy his arse off at talking to his Quidditch idol.

The rest of the Bulgarian team relaxed exponentially upon realizing how comfortable their Seeker was, and they, too, joined in the conversations. Pictures were taken, autographs were given, and Theo helped with translating certain words that didn’t slide from one language to the next, and he seemed genuinely excited at being able to speak his native tongue.

After about an hour, the team had to head back to their locker rooms to get patched and cleaned up, and they decided to head back down to their tents to wind down for the night, as well as get a bit of actual food in them.

At one point on the walk back, Narcissa had quietly murmured something to Lucius, and he just… Picked her up like a princess and carried her the rest of the way to the tents, her shoes held in her hands as she rested her head on his shoulder.

It was, honestly adorable, and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

It was simple, and loving, and just… So sweet.

Actually getting back to the tent involved a lot of exhausted groaning, and a bit of a teenager pile on the floor as they let their legs rest after walking down so many stairs, and that trek through the woods. They were eventually lured back to the land of the living by the smell of pasta, and they ate in a comfortable silence, their bodies all flopped over one another.

None of the kids managed to make it to their beds after that, passing right out in their pile of limbs and bodies, loosely covered in blankets that were lovingly laid upon them by the adults with them.

And, they slept soundly.

For a while.

Harry was the first to wake up, magic sparking at his fingertips as his heart clenched.

The rings around his neck were burning hot, almost scalding his skin for a moment before he shot upright, unable to fully process what was happening.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running in a panic.

Narcissa and Ted were scrambling over to them, their eyes wide and panicked.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Harry asked, scrubbing his eyes as he felt around for his glasses.

“No time to explain, sweetheart.” Narcissa replied, gently shaking the rest of his friends awake. “We need to leave. Now. Andromeda and Lucius are already outside. Can you summon-?”

Harry grunted, pushing himself up to his feet and flexing his hands, their bags of stuff all coming flying into the main room and landing next to them. They all grabbed theirs, still half asleep and delirious, and followed the two adults out of the tent.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of Theo and Luna, who were the closest to him.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them, then there was a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

Lucius rushed over to them, the side of his head dripping blood as his eyes filled with panic.

“You all need to leave. Now. Get away from the campsite as quickly as you can, and go to Grimmauld.” He said firmly, his tone harsh in a way that Harry had never heard before. He looked like he was in agony, clutching his right arm like he had been wounded, and Andromeda was a few feet away, casting violet shield charms around them.

“What’s going on?!” Hermione shouted over the chaos, but Harry’s attention had been pulled away by the sight of what was happening around them.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them, his vision still utter shit because he hadn’t found his glasses- where were his fucking glasses?

“They don’t have faces.” Luna whispered in horror, her arms coming up to clutch onto his, and he instinctively pulled her and Theo behind him. “They don’t… They don’t have faces…”

“They’re masked.” Ted corrected, his wand firmly in his hand. “Masks and hoods. Lucius, they’re-”

“Death Eaters. I know. Which is why you need to get my fucking children out of here now.” The other man snapped, his eyes desperate. “They don’t need to be here for this-”

Harry couldn’t pull his gaze away, his heart clenching.

“Oh god… Oh fuck…” He murmured. “Oh fuck…”

High above the Death Eaters, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

Two of them were small.

The size of children. Small children.

He wanted to be sick.

More and more wix were joining up with the group, their wands blasting curses and spells all about, striking other wix and tents whenever they could.

But Harry could only focus on the people above their heads.

One of the tents nearby them caught fire, and he was able to see them properly, now.

It was Mr. Roberts, a woman, and two small children. His wife and kids.

Muggles.

Innocent fucking muggles.

One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up, her sobs and screams of terror filling the air as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

“Oh Merlin…” Blaise whispered, taking a staggering step back as they watched the smallest muggle child, who couldn’t have been more than six, spin wildly like a top, his broken neck lulling his head from side. “This is…”

Harry didn’t know what possessed him at that moment, but rage flared in his chest, and the magic of his rings reached out to meet it.

He thrust his hands out, thick tendrils of magic flying from his hands and shooting towards the marching Death Eaters. He felt the magic connect with one of them, and in a moment of pure hatred for whoever was underneath that fucking mask, he twisted his hand.

A fifth scream of pain filled the air, and he watched the masked person’s body begin to contort and bend, before something seemed to break.

And they went limp, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

“Harry-!” Daphne snapped, grabbing his arm and shoving it down as his friends began to pull him away. “We need to leave-!”

“They killed a fucking kid, Daphne!” He snapped back, trying to fight them off. “They killed a child!”

“And they’ll kill us if we don’t leave right the fuck now!” Draco snapped, tears of terror streaming down his cheeks, and when Harry looked at him, his chest tightened.

He couldn’t make them stay. He wouldn’t do that to them.

So, he stopped fighting back, letting them drag him away. Narcissa was leading them forward, Ted at the rear, and they were running as fast as they could towards the treeline.

They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever. There were other wix as well, security guard looking types, who were trying to force their way through the crowd to the masked wix in the center, but they were struggling to even break through the outside layer. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall, but knew they needed to get them down as soon as possible.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees.

Children were crying.

Anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Harry felt himself being pushed back and forth by people whose faces he could not see.

Narcissa pulled him close, her arms reaching out and pulling everyone against her.

“Harry. Use the Portkey. Now.” She said, her voice wavering, yet firm all the same. “Lucius and Andromeda will apparate back to Malfoy Manor, but I refuse to let you all stay here.”

“But-” He tried to protest.

“Do as I say. Now.”

He grit his teeth, hating the feeling that he was just… Abandoning all these people, but, instead of protesting further, he said the password.

“Patmol.”

And, with that all too familiar sensation, they were pulled away, landing in the front entrance of Grimmauld Place with a solid thunk, startling poor Kreacher, who had just been dusting.

Theo quickly helped him up, checking him over for any injuries, as Ted and Narcissa rushed over to the house elf, their voices hushed and panicked. Kreacher nodded once, popping away into what Harry assumed was the kitchen, while they were all herded into the drawing room.

“Just, stay here. Please.” Ted asked softly. “Everything will be fine. You just need to trust us.”

“Are Lucius and Andromeda going to be okay?” Neville asked, his voice trembling as he fought back tears. Blaise had draped himself around his shoulders, hugging him close as he, too, tried not to cry.

Neither adult answered them.

And none of them knew what to say after that, so they just watched Ted and Narcissa make their way to the floo and disappear through it.

It felt like the world was ending, somehow, and that they had just narrowly escaped the bomb.

And that was… Almost worse than actually being at the epicenter of it.

—

There was no more sleep to be had that night.

Kreacher kept them supplied with biscuits, tea, and coffee, his little hands trembling as he tried to not show his stress, but the way he continually made his way over to each of them, drifting his fingers over their faces and arms, like he was checking them over for any injuries betrayed him.

Harry had to sit with his head between his legs, fighting off a panic attack the entire night.

His friends were safe.

Narcissa was safe.

Ted was safe.

Lucius and Andromeda weren’t safe. He didn’t know where they were, or if they were okay.

What if they were dead?

What if he’d just lost another father figure?

Oh god oh god oh god-

“Breathe, Harry.” Hermione said softly, scooting closer to him, her legs boxing him up against the wall as she reached out and started to gently run her fingers through his hair. “Just breathe… They’ll be back any minute… They’ll come home any minute…”

“P-people are dying. O-oh my god…” He gasped out. “T-that was fucking horrifying. Oh my god, those poor kids-”

“I know. There was nothing we could do, though.”

“We could have done something. I-I could have-”

“Harrison James Hartford.” Blaise snapped, causing him to freeze and look up at the other boy, the surprise of being full-named by his friend briefly shocking him out of his panic. “We were told to run, so we ran. We’re fucking teenagers. We shouldn’t have to fucking fight like this all the time. You know that just as well as I do. So, shut the fuck up, and eat a fucking biscuit.”

Harry was silent at that, grabbing one of the biscuits off the tray and taking a bite out of it.

He… Really had nothing to say to that.

Blaise was right. They’re teenagers. They’re fourteen fucking years old- thirteen and fifteen, if they count Luna and Hermione respectively- and they shouldn’t have to deal with the crazy shit happening at the cup.

Theo gave the other boy a grateful look, before he scooted closer to Harry, gently bumping their heads together.

“It’s gonna be okay, Harry.” He murmured softly. “Обичам те, okay? Обичам те.”

He smiled weakly, wiping his eyes. “What does that mean..?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry buried his face in Theo’s neck, letting his eyes fall closed as he tried to calm himself the rest of the way.

At some point, Daphne went up to her room to get her radio, flicking through all of the stations and waiting for something- anything- to tell them that everything was okay.

It took about an hour of constant station flipping for any sort of news before they finally heard something, although it wasn't from the radio.

The fireplace erupted with green light, with Ted and Andromeda falling out, carrying a limp, bloody Lucius with them.

Draco was up on his feet in an instant, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Dad-!” He rushed forward. “What happened? What does he need?”“I need potions.” Ted said immediately. “Dittany, Flushing Potions, Disinfectant- Anything you have, bring it up-”

Everyone else was up on their feet as well, with Luna and Blaise rushing down into the basement alongside Draco to help him gather what they needed.

Narcissa stepped through the floo as well, a small, bloody, bat eared body clutched in her arms. She had blood splattered across her left side, and her wand was soaked in it as well.

It took Harry a moment to realize who was in her arms, but the sudden sight of Winky made his heart stop.

“Kreacher!” He shouted, and the house elf popped over, a ragged gasp escaping him when he realized who was with them. “Kreacher. I don’t know how to heal house elves, can you-”

“Kreacher can heal Winky.” The elf said firmly, holding out his arms for the smaller elf and wrapping her limp body up in his arms.

“Do what you need to do, Kreach. Don’t worry about us until you’ve done all that you can for her, okay?”

“Yes, Master Harry.”

The two elves popped away in an instant, and Harry rushed behind his friends, helping Ted and Andromeda lift Lucius up onto the dining table.

Once he was flat on his back, the true extent of his injuries could be seen.

His chest had been slashed wide open, from just below his jugular down to his hip, as well as a few smaller gashes going along his stomach.

Ted immediately cut away his shirt, his breath shuddering when he saw the wounds.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He said quickly, his face pale with panic as he tried to apply pressure to the wound on Lucius’ neck to stop the bleeding. “This is new territory.”

“LUNA! WE NEED BLOOD REPLENISHERS!” Daphne shouted from the top of the stairs as Neville started grabbing towels and anything he could to press into the wounds.

Harry, however, was frozen.

Staring at Lucius like he was already dead.

Because the magic that had cut him open was dark. It was so dark.

He was filled with midnight. It coursed through his veins, it was ripping him apart from the inside.

The abyss itself was trying to take Lucius away.

And the man was sputtering blood, gasping for air like his lungs were refusing to inflate, and he didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know-

But he did. He did know.

“...It’s coming from the mark on his right arm.” Harry said quietly, his gaze falling on Lucius’ arm as he walked over to him, freeing the limb from his shirt and looking at the horrible, blistering burn that was slowly winding its way further up his arm.

The Black ring on his finger tightened.

Yes. It seemed to say. That’s it.

That’s the source.

And it wants him dead. So you have to kill it first.

He snapped back into himself, sucking in a sharp, painful breath, before he turned to look at Ted.

“We have to get rid of it. Cut away the infection.” He said sharply, and the man pursed his lips, nodding.

“Debridement.” Ted replied. “It’s a complicated procedure, we can’t just-”

“Knock him out.”

“What?”

“God dammit- Cissa.” Harry turned towards Narcissa, who was standing there, dumbly staring at her husband as tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes snapped towards him, like she’d suddenly snapped back into her body, and she nodded. “Go get a sleeping draught. Theo, give me your belt.”

His boyfriend quickly pulled his belt out of his jeans, watching as he looped it just above where the infection had reached and tightened it so much it would cut off the blood flow- Good, good. The voice in his head seemed to say. Cut it off.- and he flicked out his pocket knife.

Narcissa had fled the room at full speed, before she returned with Draco, Blaise, and Luna, all of them carrying bottles after bottles of potions. Draco made a painful noise when he saw his father’s body, but quickly steeled himself, starting to dump Disinfectant Potions over the wound on his arm as his mother forced the sleeping draught down his throat.

Harry dumped another Disinfectant Potion over his knife, his hands shaking a bit.

“We have to cut it away.” He said softly, looking at his friends. “I don’t know if- if the pain will wake him up-”

Luna climbed up onto the table, sitting on Lucius’ right leg. Neville was next to her in an instant, helping to hold the limb down, while Theo and Blaise took his left. Daphne and Hermione took his left arm, as well, keeping it at his side.

Ted, however, looked horrified.

“You can’t- Harry this is dangerous. You could kill him if you cut wrong-” He tried to protest, but Narcissa cut him off.

“Edward. Focus on the wounds on his chest.” She snapped, turning to Harry and Draco. “Can you do this?”

And while he wasn’t entirely sure if he could… Harry nodded.

And she nodded back, settling down next to her husband’s head to help keep him from thrashing if he does wake up.

“I’ll keep pouring disinfecting potions on the wound when you cut.” Draco said, his hands shaking like mad. “That, and flushing potions.”

“Got it.” Harry nodded. “And as soon as I’ve cut it away, dump as many of those on it as possible. Then healing potions.”

“Okay.”

He took another moment to steel himself, his heart pounding in his chest as he brought his knife to Lucius’ arm, right where the sickly, abyssal magic stopped.

And he sank the blade into the flesh, watching as blood spilled out from beneath the metal.

A soft whimper escaped the unconscious man, but Harry ignored it, as well as the cold liquids slowly pouring down over the wound as he continued to cut, washing away the dark magic that had made itself home inside.

His mind blanked out as he cut, forcing the tendrils of magic that were trying to burrow even further into the man’s veins to snap and die, pulling piece after piece of his flesh away.

His hands were soaked in hot blood and cold potions, but he didn’t stop.

One cut.

One more.

Another.

More.

Don’t stop until it’s gone.

Don’t let it take him too.

She can’t lose him.

He can’t lose him.

You can’t lose him.

Chunks of skin were falling away as the burning wound began to subside the more he cut, revealing the fresh, healthy skin beneath.

He could feel the dark magic starting to weaken as more and more of it was removed from Lucius’ body.

Draco was still pouring the potions over the wounds, causing inky, black blood to spill from the wounds and pool on the floor, soaking their shoes and pants.

In the back of his mind, Harry mused about how he was going to scrub his skin off after this, just to get rid of the sensation of blood.

Then, with a snap, the last tendril broke, and he watched the infected flesh fall away.

As soon as it did, Ted’s healing spell began to work, the wounds on Lucius’ chest starting to close and heal, leaving minimal scars.

And blissfully, thankfully, Lucius was asleep.

His chest rose and fell with every breath, but he still looked as though he were in pain.

Of course he was in pain. He’d just had a chunk of his fucking skin cut away from his body.

Harry stumbled back once he was done, his pocket knife falling from his hands as he gasped, sliding down the wall as he stared at what he’d done.

He’d cleared the infection, but god, the wound-

He was soaked in Lucius’ blood.

Draco was too.

He was gonna pass out.

Or he was going to throw up.

He didn’t know which one was more likely at that moment.

Gentle hands grabbed hold of him by his armpits, hoisting him up just a bit, and then just dragging him out of the room when his legs couldn’t support his weight.

It took a moment to get himself back up, and once he did, their arms wrapped around him again, helping him up the stairs and into his and Theo’s bedroom.

He was brought to the bathroom, then, and hoisted up onto the counter, which was when he was finally able to see that Hermione had been the one dragging him about, her normally deep, brown eyes a soft amber color.

“...’mionie..?” He asked softly.

“Yeah..?” She replied, turning to look at him as she turned on the shower.

“...Why did you..?”

“Theo told me to bring you up here. Blaise has Draco.” She nodded. “Ted, Andromeda, and Narcissa can handle it from there. They’re just going to help clean up a bit, and I was told to get you up here so you can get cleaned up.”

Harry nodded dumbly. “...When did you get so strong..?”

“Wolf strength. Two days before the moon, remember?”

“Oh, right…”

“C’mon. Get in the shower. I’ll turn around so you can get undressed.”

True to her word, Hermione turned around, giving him a moment to strip out of his bloody clothes and climb into the shower, the hot water making him flinch before he slowly relaxed, just… Sitting down on the ground and letting it wash over him. He could hear her shuffling behind the curtain, taking a seat against the door, and then he spoke.

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

Hermione hesitated.

“...I think so.” She nodded. “I don’t think Lucius would leave us like that.”

“...It’s only going to get worse from here, isn’t it..?”

“I-... Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.”

—

When you think of the World Cup, the first thoughts that pop into your head should be that of laughter, joy, and fun!

At last night’s event, however, that was nowhere to be found, as the masked terrorist group known as Death Eaters made a resurgence after thirteen years of silence, releasing You-Know-Who’s mark up into the sky for all to see.

And, as such, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce the deaths of thirty-seven people, including four of the muggles who ran the campgrounds that the games were held upon. (Obituaries on PG. 7)

In other news, a single arrest was made, although no one is quite sure what to make of it.

Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, aged 13, the youngest and only daughter of the Weasley Family, was found below the Dark Mark, unconscious, and with the spell having been cast by her own wand.

Those who know young Miss Weasley, also known as Ginny, say that she is a bright, kind girl, with a fiery attitude that matches her bright red hair.

Others, as in, some of the folks who have gone to school with her, say that the girl seems to have a lingering darkness within her, a darkness that she had accidentally let slip during her first year at Hogwarts, wherein she repeatedly attempted to harm a fellow student!

As she was seen at the scene of the crime, and her own wand had been used to cast the spell, Miss Weasley has been taken into custody, and is being questioned as we speak.

Her parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, as well as her six elder brothers, have only released a single statement.

“Ginny is a sweet girl,” They said, teary eyed and trembling. “She never would have done something like this. She never would have, and she’ll be safely back home as soon as the Aurors have realized their mistake.”

While the Weasley family’s loyalty is to be admired, one must still wonder: Is it possible that, despite their firm stance on the side of Light Magic, their young daughter could have fallen in love with the Dark?

And, if so, what caused her to fall so far from grace?

Chapter Text

“Cissy. Cissy, sweetheart, look at me.” Andromeda said softly, her tone desperate and shaky as her hands cupped her little sister’s cheeks. “C’mon, Cissy… Come on… Good girl, you’re alright.”

Narcissa blinked slowly, a few tears spilling from her eyes and landing on her sister’s fingers.

It had been hours since the kids had saved Lucius’ life, hours since his breathing had steadied and his pulse had strengthened.

Hours since she had nearly lost her husband, and had to leave him behind to save their kids.

And ever since then, she’s been numb. Just… Completely, and utterly, numb.

The kids had all gone to bed a while before, coming in to say goodnight, and to reassure her the best that they could, but at the same time, she didn’t remember it happening at all.

She’d just been staring, staring at her sleeping husband, who’s hair was stained with blood and his body wrapped in bandages and he nearly died and-

“Narcissa.”

Andromeda’s voice broke through the fog that had clouded her mind, then, and she turned to look at her older sister. There was an exhausted sort of relief on her face when she had finally been acknowledged, and Narcissa felt a rush of grief at that.

“There you are, Cissy…” She crooned, sitting up on the sofa next to her and wrapping her arms around her sister, kissing the top of her head. “He’s alright. You know that. He’s going to be just fine… He’s survived worse.”

“...He nearly died.” Narcissa said softly, her voice quiet and shaky as she leaned against Andromeda, clinging to her arms like she did when she was still a child. “He nearly died, Andie… And I-... I couldn’t… I couldn’t even move… I couldn’t even do anything and he nearly died…”

“Shhh, baby…”

“He almost died…” She whispered, starting to cry. “We all could have died-”

“But we didn’t. We can’t think in ‘what if’s, Cissy, you know that. We spiral if we think in- Oh- oh oh oh… Oh, babygirl…”

She let out a quiet sob, burying her face in Andromeda’s neck as she finally let herself break down.

There was no one she needed to be strong for right now.

No one needed her to be brave.

Right now, she wasn’t Narcissa Malfoy. She wasn’t Lady Malfoy.

And Andromeda wasn’t Andromeda Tonks.

No, right now, they were Cissy and Andie, and Cissy had just been through hell, and needed her big sister to make it all go away, the way she always did.

Andromeda held her tighter, then, clinging to her baby like her life depended on it, wrapping her arms around her like a serpent squeezing the life from its prey.

And as long as she held her like that, nothing could hurt her.

“Breathe, sweet girl. Breathe…” She murmured in Narcissa's ear. “Deep breaths… In through your nose, out through your mouth, just like I taught you…”

She nodded shakily, trying to pull air into her lungs as she hiccupped and trembled, her nails digging into her sister’s arm. Andromeda didn't flinch, even for a moment, just hugged her tighter.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking more than the occasional murmur of comfort, and the quiet sobs.

When Narcissa finally calmed down enough to breathe, her sister pulled away, using her sleeves to wipe and clean her face up.

“There we are, pretty one…” Andromeda cooed. “Better..?”

“Mhm…” She nodded, smiling a bit. “...I’m so sorry, Andie…”

“Don't apologize. Never apologize for feeling your emotions. Don't do what Mother taught us.”

“I know, I know, I just… That was a bit much.”

“It wasn't. Your husband almost died. You had to drag your kids out of that goddamn campsite, because you knew they would die if they stayed.” She hissed, cupping her sister's face in her hands. “You did your job. You did what you had to do, and your children are safe, and your husband is alive. And so are you.”

Narcissa nodded shakily, letting Andromeda squeeze her cheeks, like she was trying to force the affirmations into her sister's body and mind.

“Everyone's okay.” She repeated quietly. “We’re all safe. We’re all alive. Everything is gonna be okay.”

“Exactly.”

A silence settled over them both, then.

The only sound that filled the room was Lucius’ steady breathing.

They were all safe. They were all alive.

“... It's noon, you know.” Andromeda said after a moment. “You haven't slept a wink.”

“It is?” Narcissa asked, her eyes wide. “How did..?”

“You were scared. The adrenaline in your body kept you going. It happens.”

“...The kids all ate breakfast?”

“And they're eating lunch right now. Something that you, also, need to go do.”

“I don't…”

“Cissy. Go eat. I’ll watch over him.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, but nodded anyways. Arguing with Andromeda was… Well, it was not something easily done.

And it certainly wasn't easily won.

“Fine. I’ll go eat. Do you want anything?” She asked, looking at her older sister.

“Already ate.”

“Alright… I love you, Andie.”

“I love you too, Cissy.”

Narcissa smiled softly, carefully creeping her way out of the room to keep from waking Lucius, before she softly padded down the stairs.

She checked the dining room first and, after realizing that everyone was avoiding that room like the plague, headed to the drawing room next, spotting Ted, Draco, and the children all sprawled out, munching on food from white, paper boxes as they listened to a radio show.

Her brother-in-law looked up at her, smiling a bit.

“Hey, Narcissa.”

“Hello, Ted.” She smiled a bit, before Draco shot up to his feet and tackled her in a hug, nearly knocking her over without saying a word.

How had he gotten so big, so quickly?

He had just been a little boy, still clutching at the back of her robes when meeting new people, with a slight lisp because he’d just lost his front tooth.

But he was nearly a man now.

He was a young man, but he still needed that comfort from his mother.

And she’d be damned if she wouldn’t give it to him.

She wrapped her arms around him just as tight, though, cradling the back of his head as she let out a shuddering breath.

“He’s still stable.” She reassured him gently. “Auntie Andie is watching over him right now. Said I needed to take a break.”

“You do.” Draco murmured, pulling away and leading her over to the pile, where she sat on a pouf and folded her legs beneath her, which is when Harry handed her one of the paper boxes.

“I asked Ted to apparate me over to Crouch Street. I wanted some comfort food, and… Well, Mr. Zhu was happy to see me.” He explained softly. “I didn't know what you’d like, so I got you what I got Dray.”

“Thank you, Harry…” Narcissa smiled. “Is Kreacher still tending to Winky?”

“He is. She’s feeling better, but he can't stop worrying about her.”

“They were good friends, back when Regulus and Barty were still alive…”

Luna made a slight face at that, looking over. “What do you mean, Barty was still alive?”

She tensed a bit, looking over at the girl.

For so long, she had thought of Luna as hers, as her daughter, her charge, that she had honestly forgotten that she wasn't.

Luna was Pandora's. Her darling Panda.

And Pandora had only passed on a little over four years ago. Of course her daughter knew about Barty.

“...Luna, love… Barty’s been dead for years.” She said softly. “...Azkaban made him sick, and… And his heart was still broken from…”

“I know his heart was broken because of Uncle Evan, but… Barty isn't dead.” Luna frowned.

“And… How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

Harry looked over at her, tilting his head. “...Is this a know-know, or just a know?”

“Just a know. But I know.”

He nodded, before he tucked back into his food. Narcissa looked between them in confusion for a moment, her mind still slightly too scrambled from stress to fully comprehend what she had just heard.

Blaise sighed affectionately, offering her a smile.

“Don't mind them. Harry and Neville understand Luna-Speak better than anyone else. Whatever that conversation was, the fact that nothing is being explained means that it's not currently important.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, Luna would know more.”

“...That makes not a single bit of sense to me.”

“Trust me. It doesn't to us either. I think they might just all be mad. Neville can sit there and listen to her conspiracy theories and somehow manage to make perfect sense of them, and I already got lost at Cornelius Fudge has false teeth.”

“I’ll hit you with my Beijing Beef, I swear to Merlin.” Neville said from the other side of the room, a pepper sticking out of his mouth.

“Please do not hit Blaise with a piece of beef.” Daphne groaned, rubbing her face. “I have a fucking migraine because of the full moon and last night’s stress. I can't handle any of your guys’ bullshit today.”

“Sorry, Daph.”

Narcissa chuckled a bit, carefully unfolding the box and grabbing the fork that Harry had given her, plucking up one of the small pieces of breaded and sauced meat and popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes widened a bit at the taste, and a smile formed on her lips.

“...This is heavenly. What is it?”

“Sweet and sour pork. Theo’s favorite.” Draco chuckled. “Mine too.”

“I suppose I should go on that list as well.”

“Wait until you try a Crab Rangoon. They're absolutely fucking delightful.”

“Oooh, pass one here, please?”

—

“Severus?” Aurora’s soft voice pulled him from his mind, forcing him to lift the goggles from his eyes and look at her.

Hogwarts started up again in less than a week, and, considering the events of the night before, the entire staff was on edge.

An attack at the World Cup was nearly unheard of, and with the constant, drilling pain in his arm from the fucking mark returning, he wasn’t able to ignore it for even a moment.

“Yes, Aurora?” He replied just as softly. “What do you need?”

“You to eat. You’ve locked yourself away in here since you saw the Prophet this morning.”

“...Ah. Yes, well… I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit. Eat this.”

She strode over to him, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking him away from his potions table and to his desk, where she angrily set down a plate and shoved him into his seat, crossing her arms and staring at him the way she always did when he refused to take care of himself.

He huffed a bit, taking a bite of the sandwich on the plate and- oh, he was actually hungry.

Severus’ eyes widened a bit, and he had to resist the urge to inhale his food, lest he worry Aurora further.

She sat down across from him, crossing her ankles and gently biting down on her knuckles as she waited for him to finish.

Once he did, she spoke again.

“...Your mark is getting darker, isn’t it?”

He hesitated, offering her a curt nod.

“It is.” Severus murmured. “Lucius wrote to me and said that his was as well.”

“That’s a bad sign, then.”

“It is.”

“And with the Tournament… Merlin, Sev…”

“I know.” He replied hoarsely. “...And what’s worse, Minerva told me that Alastor Moody reached out to take over the Defense position this year.”

Aurora bristled at that, her expression twisting a bit, and Severus couldn’t help but agree.

Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, an ex-auror, and the one who had arrested most of the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban, as well as many of the ones who weren’t.

He was also the Auror who had killed the most Death Eaters as well, taking them out without a moment’s hesitation if he thought that they were going to try and kill him, and even if they weren’t.

Severus always did his best to avoid thinking about some of those deaths, mostly because he had been there to see them, and watching the light fade from his friend’s eyes had been so much more excruciating than he’d ever thought it would be.

Moody hadn’t been partial to the quick death of the Killing Curse, either.

“...I thought having Lupin here would be horrible. But Moody?” She asked quietly, her fists clenching. “...It’s bad enough that we had a werewolf for a professor, now a man who has a greater body count than even most of the fucking Death Eaters?”

“He was an Auror. They don’t count, it seems.”

“Bullshit!” Aurora snapped, slamming her hands on the table as they trembled. “...That man won’t last. I just know he won’t. He’ll overstep, he’ll do something, and complaints will come flying in, and-”

“And he’ll stay, because even if people hate his class, and hate him, they’ll get decent enough scores.”

“And then I’ll have to shove him off the Astronomy Tower!”

“Rory-”

“He’s going to fuck these kids up, Severus!”

“Aurora Sinistra.”

Severus could have sighed in relief when that made her shut up, her shoulders shaking a bit as tears welled in her eyes. He agreed with her, he agreed with every single point she made, but…

There was nothing they could do.

“I know, Rory. I know.” He said softly, his old nickname for his friend slipping out. “Believe me, I know… We just need to keep an eye on the students. That’s all we need to do.”

She nodded a bit, sinking back into her seat as she put her head in her hands, visibly trying not to cry.

“...Hogwarts is falling apart, Sev.” Aurora whispered, and he reached out to rest his hand on hers, letting her long, thin fingers wrap around his and squeeze. “...It’s… It’s falling apart around us, and we have to keep the students safe, because no one else will.”

“Believe me, I do everything I can for my snakes. I just… Don’t trust anyone else. Besides you, of course.”

“...I think I trust Volkov. He doesn’t… He doesn’t blindly follow orders. He wants to start a Healing Club here, did you hear that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah…” She sniffed, sitting up and taking the handkerchief that Severus produced from his pocket to give to her, dabbing at her eyes. “...He can’t do a class, because he doesn’t have enough time as a core class teacher, but he got permission from Minerva to start up a club. Just… Basic healing techniques. Household type things.”

“That’s good, actually.” Severus nodded. “...It would be a good idea to have a home economics class, in my opinion. Teach everyone how to use magic for everyday activities?”

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe we should discuss that with Minerva at some point.”

“Yeah, that’s a good-” Aurora paused, before she glared at him. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Distract me so easily.”

Severus was unable to stop the smile from pulling at his lips, and he shrugged. “Years of practice. You can’t fight the decisions made by people above you in the food chain, but you can try and manipulate them, Aurora.”

She nodded a bit, a sigh escaping her. “Yeah… You have a good point… A home ec class would be pretty useful…”

“We can plan it together, if you’d like. I need to take a break from brewing anyways.” He offered. “Present it as formally as possible, that way Minerva can see the pros and cons?”

As he spoke, he reached into his desk, already starting to grab out parchment and quills, as well as the small bundle of muggle highlighters he had picked up after watching some of his snakes use them to organize their notes better.

Brilliant, really.

Aurora nodded, a determined glint forming in her eyes.

“Right. Formal presentation of the benefits of a home economics class.” She said firmly, taking some of the parchments that he had grabbed and already starting to scribble down ideas.

Severus smiled a bit as he watched her, dipping his own quill into ink so he could write as well.

They didn’t have much control of what went on at Hogwarts, but… They could try and make changes.

Even if they were as simple as a class to help their students function in polite society just a little bit better.

—

All it took were three soft knocks on the door to Kreacher’s den to get his attention, and before Harry could even figure out exactly what he wanted to say, the elf had opened the door, his tired eyes looking up at the boy in front of him as he smiled softly.

“How are you and Winky faring?” He asked immediately, his gaze softening upon seeing the exhaustion on his beloved elf’s face.

“Kreacher is alright, Master, but Winky… Winky says that her Master has replaced her.” He whispered. “She has been unable to stop crying since she felt it last night.”

“Oh… Poor thing… Is she..?”

“Sleeping for now, Master…”

“Alright, at least she’s getting some rest…” Harry frowned, looking at Kreacher. “...Can we talk..?”

“Of course.”

Kreacher carefully stepped out of his den, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he could so he didn’t wake the sleeping elf inside, before looking up at Harry, who sat down fully so they were at proper eye level.

“If Winky doesn’t have a Master… What will happen to her?” He asked softly, looking over as Espresso, Theo’s kitten, toddled into the kitchen, purring like a motorboat. Kreacher gently scratched between the kitten’s ears, picking her up and cradling her like a human baby. “Will she be..?”

“House Elves are not meant to not have a bond.” The elf said solemnly. “It is a symbiosis. Wixen Masters provide us with magic and protection, while Elves care for their homes, feed them, and help raise their young.”

“I’m, sorry, just… What do you mean, provide you with magic?”

“House Elves can absorb magic from the air around them, but that sort of magic is raw, and unfiltered. It can keep Kreacher and Winky and other elves alive, but we are not… Healthy. When an elf like Kreacher is bonded to a wix, Kreacher is healthy and strong. Wix magic is filtered, and clean.”

Harry paused, his eyes going wide. “Is that why you’ve been feeling so good since we bonded? Because the magic I give off is clean and healthy?”

“Master Harry gives off excessive amounts of clean and healthy magic, and it has made Kreacher’s mind clear for the first time in a very long time. Winky has served the Crouch family for many, many years. She was born a Crouch Family Elf, and now that she no longer serves them…”

“...She no longer has a source of healthy magic… Oh, god…”

“And because Winky was not given to another family, she is cut off entirely.”

He covered his mouth with his hand, horror coursing through his body.

From what Kreacher said, if Winky isn’t able to bond to a new family, to a new Wix, she’ll get sick.

And rapidly.

Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to do something.

He hesitated for a moment, looking up at Kreacher.

“Kreach… I know you take your role as the Black Family Elf very seriously.” Harry said softly. “So I’m telling you right now, if you don’t feel comfortable, you can tell me, and I’ll find a different solution, but-”

“Master, Kreacher would be very pleased if Winky were to join the family.” He replied, before Harry could even finish his sentence. “Kreacher and Winky are old friends, very old friends, and having her nearby would make Kreacher very happy.”

Harry sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. “You’re sure? Completely, one hundred percent?”

“Yes, Master Harry.” Kreacher smiled, his wrinkled, old ears lifting a bit. “It would be nice to have help cleaning.”

“Wonderful… How do we bond, then? Because you just kinda… Came with the house, y’know?”

“It’s very simple, Master… Once Winky is awake, it is as simple as sharing a bit of blood from your finger, and making an oath. Much like your covenant ritual.”

“Oh!” Harry nodded, smiling. “Alright. We were honestly planning on doing a Covenant ritual later tonight, anyways. ‘Mionie needs to be added to it, and we wanted to ask Cissa too.”

“That would be perfect, then. Kreacher will bring a handle to the drawing room at sundown, and he will walk Master through the elf bonding.”

“You’re a saint, Kreach.”

“Kreacher is no saint. Kreacher simply cares for his master, and his family.”

“Still. You’re a bloody saint, and I absolutely adore you.”

“...Kreacher adores you too, Master. Very much. Now, please give Kreacher a moment so he can go and speak to Winky, and gather the necessary materials.”

Harry nodded quickly, gently taking Espresso from the elf’s arms and stepping back.

“Yeah, of course. Do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting.”

—

Winky was, when not scared out of her skin by being hundreds of feet off the ground, the sweetest house elf that Harry had ever met.

She was soft spoken, and gentle, and a bit emotional, but Harry didn’t fault her for that at all.

After all, her entire life had been ripped away from her. Any sane person would feel just a little bit out of whack after something like that.

So, when she fluttered about, making tea and biscuits and doing any sort of chore she could get her little hands on, he didn’t say anything beyond thanking her and praising her for doing such a good job, the same way he did with Kreacher.

And, her smile made it all worth it.

It did, also, however, get Hermione on a warpath.

After Winky had bound herself to House Peverell- because Harry had decided to offer her a choice as to which of his Noble Houses to bind herself to, and she liked the sound of being Winky of House Peverell- she had flung her arms around his neck in tears, and promised to be a good elf, and to never do anything that meant that her new master would need to beat her.

He quickly reassured her that beatings were not only never going to happen, but were forbidden, and that he trusted her enough to know that she wouldn’t do anything so egregious as to need one.

Ever.

The very idea of striking her, or Kreacher, made him ill, after all, and there was no reason to physically hurt someone who didn’t even deserve it.

And, of course, the knowledge that Winky expected beatings had made them all descend into a bit of a research frenzy, only to discover that House Elves had… Essentially no rights.

Which, was unacceptable.

So, the day before they were set to return to Hogwarts, Hermione called a coven meeting.

Even Lucius, who had finally regained enough strength to leave the master bedroom, came down and joined them, his face sallow and tired, but still smiling at the sight of his family all gathered together. Narcissa sat at his side, her own hand still bandaged from the covenant ritual, and they all watched as Hermione set down a box, filled to the brim with colorful badges, all bearing the same acronym.

S.P.E.W.

“...Spew?” Draco murmured, picking one up, and she shot him a mock glare.

“Not spew. S.P.E.W. The Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare.” She said proudly, sitting up a bit. “An organization put together in order to make sure that all house elves are treated fairly, with kindness, and are not kept in cruel and inhumane working conditions.”

Narcissa lit up a bit, looking at Hermione with excited eyes. “These are very well made, Hermione, dear. When did you have the time to put them together?”

“A bit of creative charm work. I was thinking that we could start bringing the abusive treatment of house elves to a public light.”

Harry grinned, grabbing one of the pins- a green and purple one- and pinning it to the front of his hoodie. The rest of his friends followed suit, picking colors that they liked and pinning them on.

Narcissa and Lucius did as well, which made Hermione blush a bit.

“You don’t think this is silly..?” She asked quietly.

“Of course not!” Blaise reassured her, reaching over and grabbing her hand. “Hermione, this is good. Not everyone treats their house elves the way Harry and the Malfoys do, and that’s not okay. We have to work together to survive, and house elves are an integral part of how we live. Making sure they're safe and happy should be top priority.”

“I agree.” Daphne nodded firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And, I think we should spread this around school when we get back. A sickle, two to join? Get you a badge and a leaflet?”

Hermione lit up more and more as her friends spoke, relief on her face and joy in her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been expecting this to go as well as it had, but the way they all began to chatter excitedly about what sort of things they wanted to include in their list of goals.

Things like fair working conditions, a house elf union- which Harry, the son of two very anarchist people, had requested- and even the discussion of wages was added to the list, being carefully scribed down by Neville and Luna.

Narcissa had even requested a few of the pins as well, as she was having tea with some Ladies in a few days, and thought that it may be a good idea to bring the cause up to them.

After all, rights movements were rather in fashion, and if the fashionable ladies of Britain were wearing the pins? That was even more positive publicity.

Harry smiled a bit, leaning against Theo’s side and resting his head on his shoulder, looking out at his friends with pride.

This summer had its ups and downs, and there had been some very high ups and downs, but he was glad to be ending on a high note.

And the badge he had pinned to his chest made him that much prouder of his family.

He couldn’t wait for S.P.E.W. to take over.

Chapter Text

There was a definite end of the summer gloom in the air when Harry awoke on September First, Theo’s arm draped over his chest and their legs tangled together.

There was a heavy rain pounding on the windows, and it made him let out a soft groan as he closed his eyes again, throwing his arm over his eyes to try and block out the light for just a little bit longer.

When he finally worked up the will to get out of bed, and, as a result, untangled himself from his beloved, darling boyfriend, he was barely able to get dressed, only managing a pair of flannel pajamas and a hoodie on top.

And, once he crept downstairs, Theo’s half asleep form trailing behind him?

He realized that everyone else had the same idea.

Pajamas and sweaters.

Although, there was a big, beautiful feast laid out for them, carefully and lovingly prepared by a weepy Kreacher and Winky, who kept fussing over everyone as they ate. Especially Lucius, as he was still recovering, and the harsh potions regime that Ted had stuck him on had killed his appetite, even if he did still need to eat more for his body to heal.

“Good morning, Harry, love.” The man said softly, a smile on his face as he nervously ran a hand through his freshly cut hair- there had been too much blood dried into the long locks to salvage them, so he’d had to go down to a closely cropped cut. “Ready to start a new term?”

“Absolutely not.” Harry smiled back. “I’d rather stay home and take care of you, and my friends.”

“Cissa has you beat.”

“Damn.”

Narcissa chuckled a bit, walking over and gently pressing a kiss to the tops of each of their heads, before slipping an envelope to Harry with a hum.

“Arrived just this morning. From Sirius.” She said softly, before she walked over to the counter, scooping a bit of eggs and bacon onto her plate before heading back over to her seat next to her husband.

A bright smile formed on his face as he opened the envelope, his godfather’s loopy cursive looking up at him from the page as he began to read.

-

Pup,

I’ve been reading the Prophet every day since the World Cup, and while I haven’t seen any mention of you in the paper, I just need to make sure that you’re alright.

I doubt you’re in any danger, or hurt at all, but I’d be a shit godfather if I didn’t check in at all.

I know we’ve sent a couple letters back and forth since the start of the summer, and you know that I’m down south, but I felt the need to update you on what’s going on.

Remus tracked me down, he’s doing alright, although I know you don’t care much about that. We’ve hunkered down here in Portugal, and we’re making sure to keep a low profile. It’s nice to be with him again, I hadn’t realized just how much I missed him until now.

I’ve been eating alright. I hope you have been too, and my nightmares are going away little by little. I slept a full ten hours, completely uninterrupted!

Anyways, how is everyone? Is Hermione handling her furry little problem alright? Are you and Theo doing well?

I just, want to keep updated with your life, even from as far away as I am.

Write back when you can, love.

Stay safe, and good luck this year. I’ve heard rumors about things happening at Hogwarts, and if I need to come back to the UK, I’ll be back before you even know it.

I love you, Harry.

Good luck!

Love,

Sirius

P.S. Remus says he loves you too, and asks, very kindly, if you would apologize to Hermione and Daphne for him, and let them know that he not only feels very terrible for what he did, but that if they ever want to beat the shit out of him, he is more than happy to let them.

His words, not mine.

Self flagellating bastard.

-

“Hey, ‘Mionie, Daph.” Harry chuckled, causing the two girls to look up curiously. “Remus says if you ever wanna beat the shit out of him, to just send a letter with mine to Sirius. He’ll let you.”

“Ooh, sounds fun.” Daphne smiled between bites of pancakes.

“Agreed.” Hermione added, looking up. “Might just take him up on that.”

He couldn’t stop the snicker that escaped him at that comment. As well as she was adapting to her new life as a werewolf, she, understandably so, still held a lot of resentment towards Remus for biting her.

Of course, she also knew that it was, partially, her own fault that she had been bit, but she was still angry that she was able to be bit in the first place.

“Anything else of note?” Blaise asked him, looking over out of curiosity.

“Not that I can see. I mean, he’s doing better.” He hummed. “Eating well, sleeping well… He’s worried about us, told me to write to him as soon as I can.”

Harry paused for a moment. “Oh, and he said that he’s been hearing rumors about something going on at Hogwarts? Anybody have any clue what that could be?”

That was when Lucius choked on his bite of potatoes, being quickly slapped on the back by Luna to dislodge it. He looked over at her with a grateful smile, before he turned back to the rest of the kids.

“With all the chaos these last couple of months, I… I almost forgot.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year-”

“The fucking WHAT?!” Draco suddenly yelped, his eyes blowing wide and panicked as the rest of their friends bristled as well. “Are you serious?”

“What’s the Triwizard Tournament?” Harry asked, raising a hand.

“It’s… Basically a game between the three European Wixen Schools.” Theo said quietly, his face pale. “Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts. All three schools combine for a year, and… Well, compete to see which Champion is the winner. They’re different every year, and no two competitions are the same, so… There’s really no way to know what you’re getting into.”

Oh, and they haven’t held it in years because of the death count. Contestants and audience alike.”

And, at that, he groaned.

“...Oh my god. And it’s happening at Hogwarts?”

“Yep.”

“...One year. One fucking year, is all I ask for.” Harry said, almost throwing down his fork and standing up. “I need a second. I’m sorry.”

He quickly strode out of the room, anger bubbling in his chest as he headed towards the back of the house, stepping out onto the small patio and taking a breath of the dewy, morning air as he crouched down, sticking his head between his legs and letting out a noise of frustration, the pounding rain like a percussion soundtrack to his anger.

This summer had been full of bullshit, even if there had been plenty of fun mixed in, and now the school year will be too.

There was no doubt about that.

Harry took a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes as he stood back up.

“Just keep your head down, Hartford. Maybe this year will just… Pass you by.” He murmured. “Maybe you’ll get lucky. You can get lucky sometimes.”

He just had to keep telling himself that.

—

To everyone’s relief, getting to Platform Nine and 3/4ths, and getting on the train, was easy for once.

Mrs. Zabini had come to wish everyone goodbye, and after quite a few tears from everyone involved, had finally let the kids all onto the train, all three adults waving and smiling at them from the platform as the train pulled away.

Daphne had slipped away for a moment to go and see her little sister, Astoria, but had come back only five minutes later with tears in her eyes, and had all but shut down when they tried to ask if she was okay. She ended up calming down a bit once Neville had spent half an hour gently murmuring to her, and all she had been able to get out was that Astoria was furious with her for spending the summer away from home, and had spat a few…

Well, a few insults that landed a bit too close to home.

And ones that she dare not repeat, otherwise there would end up being a fight on the train.

She’d given a pointed look at Luna when she’d said that, and the other girl had simply smiled at her, and let out a happy hum.

“And I’d win.” She had said. “You know I would.”

Harry didn’t quite know what to make of that, but, seeing his friends be so ready to throw down for each other did make him feel pretty good.

A calm quiet had spread over them after that, none of them really having much to say after spending the entire summer together, but there was at least a sense of peace to the quiet, instead of any anxiety over the coming tournament that they were, technically, not supposed to know about.

Theo adjusted Espresso in his arms in an effort to keep her dry as they got off the train, while Hermione did the same with Crookshanks. They all walked, heads bent, and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads, soaking them to the bone.

They had already reached the carriages when Harry remembered that he’d learned an umbrella charm the previous year, and he cursed himself out as they climbed into the carriages, the door snapping shut behind them and letting them cast some drying charms on themselves as the Thestrals began to pull them towards the castle.

“I love, and hate, the rain.” Theo huffed, leaning down and kissing his kitten’s forehead, causing her to meow in soft protest when he pulled away.

“I love it, but this is sky piss.” Harry groaned. “The sky is pissing on us. This is a sign. This is a fucking sign.”

“Sky piss… What a sentence that is.”

“It’s true! Look at it! It’s just, buckets!!”

Hermione shivered, shaking her head. “Those poor first years… Crossing the lake in this weather must be utter hell.”

“Oh, poor things.” Draco murmured, a frown on his face. “They’re going to be drenched…”

“You’d think that the school would come up with a better method for bringing the firsties up here…”

Harry chuckled a bit, sliding his hand into Theo’s as he leaned against the window, watching as the carriage took them closer and closer to Hogwarts.

They passed through the gates, which were decorated with statues of winged boars, and began their climb up the winding, bumpy path to the castle, its many lit windows shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain.

Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

Blaise and Harry both stopped just outside of the carriage, one hand holding the umbrella charms- that the latter had quickly taught the former just before they left the carriage- while they used the other to help their friends quickly clamor up the steps to get inside as well.

“It’s fucking freezing.” Daphne groaned, shaking her hair out like a dog and sending water spraying everywhere. Hermione followed suit, obviously running on pure instinct, and the two of them quickly had damp, frizzy hair, as well as even more soaked friends. “The lake is probably gonna overflow if this keeps- BWAGH?!”

A large, red water balloon was dropped upon her head from the ceiling, drenching her once again and making her face light up with rage.

A second balloon dropped, and Harry just barely dodged it, watching it explode on the floor and soak Neville’s socks. They all looked up at the source as the rest of the students began to scream and run.

Peeves, the school poltergeist, was floating above them, his arms full of water balloons and his expression twisted up in glee.

“PEEVES!” Yelled an angry voice. “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”

Headmistress McGonagall, former Transfiguration professor as well as the former Head of Gryffindor, came barrelling out of the Great Hall, ready to scold the poltergeist for his antics.

Except, well, her shoes obviously weren’t built for the wet marble floors of the school, and she comically slipped, her legs flying out from beneath her as she reached out, accidentally grabbing Hermione by the neck to catch herself.

“Ouch-! Sorry, Miss Granger-”

“That’s all right, ma’am!” Hermione gasped, massaging her throat as Draco hurried over to her, checking out the red marks on her neck to see if they were serious.

“Peeves, get down here NOW!” Headmistress McGonagall barked, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

“Not doing nothing!” Peeves cackled as lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. “Already wet, aren’t they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!”

And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

His assault, however, was stopped when Professor Volkov stepped out from behind a suit of armor, his robes sopping wet and his hair falling into his face, and he quickly cast a spell on the balloons.

Before Peeves could react, he was sent crashing into the ground, as the balloons had suddenly become large rocks.

“Apologies, everyone!” He called with a soft laugh as the poltergeist cursed, pulling himself away from the rocks and disappearing through a wall, his shenanigans properly thwarted. “I simply wished to deal with that menace before we had to call in the Baron.”

“Thanks, professor…” Daphne groaned, sighing in relief when the man dried her off with a charm.

“Of course, Miss Greengrass. You all should head to the Great Hall. I will make sure that damned poltergeist leaves everyone alone.”

“Yes, sir.” They chorused, everyone quickly hustling away from the irritated Russian professor as he checked on McGonagall, heading into the Great Hall with some light chatter.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students, all in varying stages of dampness, and at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer here, as well as dryer, which was a massive relief.

Instead of splitting apart to go and sit at their usual House tables, the whole group made their way over to the Slytherin table and took their seats.

No one batted an eye, although Hermione, the only Gryffindor of the bunch, got a couple of odd looks that passed by just as quickly as they began.

The Bloody Baron, the Slytherin House Ghost, floated by, nodding approvingly at all of the students as they sat down.

He certainly wasn’t one of Harry’s favorite ghosts on campus, mostly because he was… Rather frightening.

Then again, most of the ghosts were at least uncomfortable to look at.

So, he kept his head down, nodding politely back at the Baron as he drifted by, relaxing when he kept moving.

His attention was pulled back from his lap, however, when a blue jelly slug was very gently placed upon his plate by a small, thin hand, and he looked up to see Luna, deftly handing out slugs to each of her friends, almost like an appetizer.

“When did you get those?” He asked with a soft chuckle, watching as she passed them out.

“Daphne got them for me when she went to speak to Astoria on the train.” Luna said softly, shooting a harsh look over at the younger girl, who was sitting with her friends and chattering loudly. “I’m still rather upset with her.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Astoria is feeling bitter because Daph spent the summer with us, and not her. Their mother’s illness is getting worse, as well, and she feels as though it’s Daphne’s duty to care for her as the eldest daughter.”

Harry made a face at that, before he glanced over at Daphne, whose eyes were staring down at the red jelly slugs on her plate, tears still welling up in her eyes, the pile steadily growing as Luna continued to pass them to her.

The reds, which were cherry flavored, were her favorite.

He bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to say something to comfort her, but just… Not knowing what to say.

Instead, he looked up at the staff table, his eyes meeting Professor Snape’s, who nodded at him, a slight smile on his face. He smiled back, glancing over the rest of the table.

He silently greeted Professors Sinistra, Babbling, and Vector as well, his eyes landing on the four empty seats.

Hagrid was, of course, getting the first years across the lake, while Headmistress McGonagall and Volkov were trying to dry off the entrance hall as much as possible.

That left the last empty seat.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts seat.

Harry frowned at that. They had absolutely no idea who their teacher would be this year, and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to meeting them. The last three years had been… Messy, to say the least.

Quirrelmort in his first year, Lockhart the murderer in his second year, and his werewolf godfather in his third had made Harry rather bitter when it came to that job position, and, he already didn’t trust whoever was going to fill it.

“Hopefully the first years make it up soon.” Neville said thoughtfully, as he ripped the head off of a yellow jelly slug- lemon flavored, if he remembered correctly. “I’m starting to get worried…”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Volkov were leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall.

And the poor things were all soaked to the bone.

They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school. Well, all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited, even as he violently shivered.

“Poor boy…” Hermione whispered, gently flicking her wand and casting a warming charm on him. He relaxed as soon as it hit him, and thankfully, his shaking stopped as well.

Professor Volkov seemed to have taken over Headmistress McGonagall’s duties, setting down the three legged stool, as well as the ancient, patched up Sorting Hat.

Everyone stared at it expectantly, which, is when it broke out into song.

It was different from the ones it had sung during their first and second years, detailing the traits of the houses all the same, yet also explaining where the hat came from.

Or, well, possibly.

Thousand year old hats probably weren’t the best source of knowledge, even if they were the subject of the song in question.

After the polite applause from the students, and the hat’s typical bow, Professor Volkov unrolled a sheet of parchment.

“When I call your name, please, step up and allow me to place the hat on your head. Once it announces your house, please, sit at the color coordinated table. Ravenclaws to the blue table, Hufflepuffs to yellow, Gryffindors to red, and Slytherins to green.” He said, before he began to read off the list of names.

“Ackerley, Stewart!”

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to toe, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

“RAVENCLAW!” The hat shouted, and Ackerley quickly flew to the designated table.

“Baddock, Malcolm!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry and his friends erupted into cheers as the boy made his way over to them, and Luna, smiling, somehow produced another bag of jelly slugs, quietly asking the boy his favorite flavor, and handing him a green one when he replied.

“Branstone, Eleanor!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

And, as the sorting went on, Harry kept glancing around, his attention being pulled away from the first years, and to the walls of the castle.

Something felt… Off.

He didn’t know how else to describe it.

The castle’s magical hum felt softer, but not like it was trying to be polite and quiet.

No, it felt like it was being forced down. Like something was wrong with it.

He leaned back a bit, gently pressing his hand against the wall and allowing his magic to flow through his hand, before he bit back a yelp of pain as a shock of electricity went through his body, throwing him forward a bit.

Theo looked at him in worry, but he gently shook his head, keeping his hand clutched to his chest as he fought back tears.

He’d never felt something like that before.

It fucking hurt.

He was only distantly aware of the applause filling the air as the last of the students were sorted, and the food appearing on the plates in front of them.

He ate, but only a little, because whatever was wrong with the castle was bothering him immensely.

Did it have something to do with the Triwizard Tournament? Did they mess with the wards and the magic ingrained in the stone? Did someone alter it to cause harm?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t even know how to ask.

Once dinner had been finished, as well as dessert, and the mostly empty dishes had been vanished away, Headmistress McGonagall stepped up to the podium, holding her hands up and calling for silence.

“Good evening, everyone.” She said, a pleasant smile upon her face. “Now that we’ve all been fed and watered, I would like your attention for a few quick announcements. As per usual, the Forbidden Forest is, as it’s name suggests, Forbidden.”

“And Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

Harry’s lips quirked up into a smile at that, looking over at his friends. Neville was quietly mouthing the number of banned items with a look of wide eyed wonder, while Daphne and Draco were visibly plotting how to smuggle as many of those items into the school as possible.

“Unfortunately, this year's Inter-House Quidditch Cup has been canceled, due to a secondary Cup taking place.” She paused for a moment, allowing the enraged shouting and protests to pass before she spoke again. “I understand your anger, and I am more than happy to approve any extra flying time that those of you on the teams would like so you can continue to practice, but actual games will not be held this year.”

“Now, as for the event that has caused us to cancel Quidditch-”

Before McGonagall could continue, however, the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall whipped toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward McGonagall. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling, causing Hermione to gasp.

The lightning had thrown the man’s face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel.

Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. Deeply, heavily scarred.

The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing, like it had been violently ripped off, but it was the man’s eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving constantly, without blinking, and completely independently of the other.

When he finally reached McGonagall, he shook her hand, and the two of them exchanged words that Harry couldn’t hope to make out.

The stranger sat down after his brief conversation, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

Harry didn’t like him.

Harry didn’t like him at all.

There was something wrong with this man, too, just the same as Hogwarts.

He felt… Dark. Dark, and serpentine, and he stank like the Dark Mark that Harry had carved out of Lucius’ arm not even a week before.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Moody, as well as our new Gryffindor Head of House, Professor Volkov?” McGonagall said, drawing everyone’s attention back to her.

Half hearted applause erupted amongst the students, although Harry knew it was entirely for Professor Volkov.

No one felt quite comfortable around Moody.

That much was obvious.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

He slowly turned his head to look at his friends, and froze, Luna’s hateful, rage filled expression causing his eyes to lock onto her.

…She’d never made that face before.

She’d never looked so… Enraged.

And suddenly, Harry felt proper fear.

Enough fear that he didn’t pay a lick of attention to McGonagall as she announced the Triwizard Tournament, or explained a bit of its history, because he didn’t care about that right now.

What he cared about, is the fact that Luna Lovegood was staring at someone with so much hate in her eyes that it paralyzed him to his seat.

…What had this man done to earn such a face from one of the kindest people he had ever met?

That thought shook him to his very core, and he tore his gaze away, looking back at Moody one more time.

And his stomach sank when he realized that blue, swiveling eye, had locked its gaze onto him.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Harry spent the rest of the night feeling like he was going to faint, his mind fuzzy and his breathing shaky, like he could barely inflate his lungs beyond short bursts of breath.

He had no idea what was wrong with him, at all, and it was fucking terrifying.

Blaise had to get him a calming draught from Snape, and, after drinking it, he had just gone straight to sleep, his face burrowed in Theo’s chest as his boyfriend ran his fingers through his hair.

He felt slightly better in the morning, and, as he made his way up to the Great Hall with his friends, he tried to ignore the constant nagging feeling in his body.

Much like the heavy clouds that still lingered from the previous night’s storm, he felt heavy and floaty all at once, needing to be led about by his friends.

Hermione came to join them as soon as they reached the Great Hall again, her eyes red rimmed and tired, and she had a rapid, hushed conversation with Daphne and Luna, causing both girls to nod, gently pulling her down to the table and dishing up food for her.

“You okay, Harry?” She asked, pulling his attention over to her.

“Yeah, I’m… I feel a little bit like a lead balloon? How are you?”

“I didn’t sleep. The girls in my dorm kept whispering about me.”

“Want me to beat them up?”

“Daphne and Lue have it handled.”

“Oh, good…”

Harry smiled a bit, looking up as their schedules were passed out, the Slytherin prefect looking at Hermione in confusion for a moment, before one of the Gryffindor prefects made his way over, handing her the schedule.

He hummed, looking down at his parchment.

“Today isn’t bad.” Theo hummed. “...We’re outside all morning… Herbology with Neville, and Care right after… Damn, we still have potions with the Gryffindors- wait, sorry, Hermione.”

“Apology accepted.” She hummed, spearing a sausage with her fork and taking a bite of it. “Ron was quiet, though. I guess Minister Bones is trying to get Ginny acquitted, because she’s still just a kid, but a lot of the public is in a panic over the Death Eater rally… They want a target, and she’s just the one they landed on.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, wincing a bit. That had to suck.

He didn’t like Ginny Weasley, or her older brother, Ron, but he was on good terms with the twins, and he didn’t know the oldest brothers well enough to have an opinion on them.

Even if he didn’t like the youngest two Weasleys, that didn’t mean he wished harm on them.

Most of the time.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. He looked up, smiling when he saw Mephistopheles swoop down, landing in front of him with a happy coo.

“Hello, sweet boy…” He said softly, grabbing an envelope from his bag and tying it around his ankle, leaning in and whispering to him. “Take this to Siri for me, would you?”

Meph hooted, spreading his wings excitedly, and Neville handed him a piece of ham without a second thought, before the owl took off back the way he came.

The Malfoy’s eagle owl swooped down as well, carrying what looked like Draco’s usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. It was a habit of Narcissa’s that she just couldn't break, and he immediately began passing some of them out to his friends.

They ate quickly after that, checking there schedules over a few more times before Harry, Blaise, Daphne, Theo, Draco, and Neville hustled down to the Greenhouses, where they were immediately distracted by quite possibly the ugliest plants that Harry had ever seen before in his fucking life.

In fact, they looked less like plants and more like thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny boils on it, filled with a rather nasty looking goo.

“Bubotubers.” Professor Sprout told them briskly. “They need squeezing. You will collect the pus-”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Daphne asked, staring at the plants with an increasingly paling look on her face.

“The pus, Miss Greengrass.” Their professor sighed. “And it’s extremely valuable, so don’t waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves! it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus.”

It took a few minutes for everyone to get their gloves on, and even longer for them to really feel comfortable even trying to pop them. Neville, ever the first to dive into anything Herbology related, was popping the damn things like his life depended on it.

Harry, however, was not nearly as keen on it, and he had to resist the urge to gag and scream with every foul, petrol-scented pustule that popped.

His friends couldn’t stop snickering as he struggled to deal with the bubotubers, and he didn’t quite understand why until Blaise leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“You’ve killed three people, and carved a chunk out of Lucius’ arm with just a pocket knife. But you’re about to puke while popping plant zits. It’s pretty funny.”

And, yeah, that made perfect sense.

By the end of the lesson, they had collected several pints of the pus, and Professor Sprout was beaming as she popped the corks into place.

“This’ll keep Madam Pomfrey happy! Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for even the most stubborn forms of acne. Hopefully it’ll stop students from using more extreme measures to get rid of it…”

“Like Eloise Midgen.” Hannah Abbott, one of the Hufflepuff girls whispered. “She tried to curse hers off, and took her nose off instead.”

“Well, Madam Pomfrey was able to stick it right back on.” Their professor hummed, looking at them gravely. “Remember that, though. Just get some bubotuber pus. Lest you lose your nose.”

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated. Half of the students headed back up to the castle, and the other half headed down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry and Daphne, as they always did, rushed over to Nestor’s paddock before the beginning of class, the silvery unicorn bounding over to them with excited whinnies, chuffing and sniffing at their heads in his own form of greeting. After plying him with carrots and apple slices, and giving him a few more kisses, they rejoined the rest of the group, standing in front of the hut.

Hagrid, and his dog Fang, were just in front of it, standing behind several open, wooden crates, and beaming.

“Mornin’!” Their professor called. “Startin’ a new unit today! Blast-Ended Skrewts!”

“Blast-Ended..?” Hermione said softly, stepping forward to see what was in the large crate, before she let out a startled yelp and stumbled backwards, right into Blaise’s arms. He hugged her close, his own face going slightly grey.

And, well… Harry could see exactly why.

They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes.

They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish, and every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, launching it forward a few inches.

“...What the fuck..?” Draco whispered in horror.

“On’y jus’ hatched!” Hagrid said proudly. “So yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!”

“What do they do?” Neville asked. “Besides, uhm… Explode?”

“Tha’s next lesson, Longbottom. Yer jus’ feedin’ ’em today. Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things. I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer- I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake— Just try ’em out with a bit of each.”

Theo slowly crept over to the bucket of frog livers, gingerly grabbing a handful of them out and slowly lowering them into one of the crates, yelping and yanking his hand back out when one of them tried to sting him.

And that was how the rest of the lesson went, with all of the students terrified of the exploding lobster-monsters, and a few of them dealing with small puncture wounds.

After Care, came lunch, and after lunch, they all split up again. Daphne and Neville made their way up to Divination, as the two of them had decided to stick it out a bit longer, while Harry and the rest of his friends headed to Arithmancy, greeting Professor Vector with a smile, as she began to go over the syllabus for the year.

Although, as he sat there, happily writing down notes on what subjects they would be covering, he felt an awful twinge at the back of his head. A sharp, electrical twinge that seemed to come from the walls itself, and the taste of copper filled his mouth.

“Eugh…” He said quietly, covering his face as he carefully stood, making his way over to the box of tissues that Vector kept in her room, pressing one to his face and closing his eyes as the coppery taste got worse.

“Mr. Hartford? Are you alright?” She asked, looking over at him worriedly.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, I think I just… Think I have a bloody nose.” He replied, pulling the tissue away. Sure enough, it was soaked in blood, and he cringed a bit, his vision starting to swim. “...I have a very bad bloody nose.”

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrupt the lesson.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Hartford. Go ahead and take a seat, let me know if you need to visit the hospital wing.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry nodded, grabbing a few more tissues and sitting back down next to Theo, who wrapped an arm around him and hugged him close, kissing the top of his head and obviously trying not to worry over him too much.

He still felt, off… He didn’t know what, exactly, it was, but he did know that it was Hogwarts itself trying to tell him something.

Something strange was happening, and the school was not happy about it.

—

“Peregrine? You okay?” Blaise asked his fellow Quidditch player softly, most of the Slytherins having congregated in the common room to work on what homework they’d been given that day.

The Beater, who normally had a look of disturbed delight, or one of sheer indifference on his face, looked uncommonly sick that evening, having been unable to eat, or even focus on his work for more than a few minutes at a time.

It was honestly starting to worry Harry, because Peregrine very, very rarely wasn’t okay.

“Eh? Yeah, yeah, I’m… Yeah.” The older boy nodded, rubbing his face. “Just… Had a rough go in Moody’s class.”

“How was that, by the way?” Draco asked with a frown.

“...The man’s a psychopath, kid.” Peregrine said slowly. “He’s a terror. I really, really hope he gets fired or something, because…”

He trailed off, a slightly glassy, distant look in his eyes as he shook his head again.

“I’m gonna go to bed.” He murmured, standing up and packing up his stuff, heading up to the sixth year boys dorms, leaving the rest of the group in silence.

Theo spoke up eventually, a worried look in his eyes. “...What do you think he meant by that?”

“Nothing good.” Harry replied solemnly. “Nothing good at all.”

Luna said nothing to that, her hand clenching on her quill so hard she snapped it in half, having to grab a new one from her bag and wipe the ink off of her hands in her frustration.

But, because she said nothing, they all went back to work, Peregrine’s warning quickly moving to the back of their minds as they tried to figure out roughly what the Blast-Ended Skrewts actually were, in hopes that they would be able to keep them alive long enough to pass Care of Magical Creatures that year.

—

A sense of foreboding had fallen over the fourth years as they stood in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, although, it was mostly the Slytherins who felt the anxiety. The Gryffindors were all but chomping at the bit to get into the class, chattering excitedly and animatedly as they discussed what they’d heard from the older students who’d already been in the class.

When the door opened, they all filed into their seats, taking out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, and just… Waiting.

Soon enough, they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

“You can put those away.” He growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down. He paused, when no one moved, before gesturing vaguely to the book on Hermione’s desk. “Those books. You won’t need them.”

Excited murmurs filled the air, and Harry watched as Weasley and Finnegan, who were both bright eyed and bushy tailed for once, eagerly shoved their books back into their bags.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as they answered.

The eye lingered on certain students longer than others. Draco, Daphne, Theo, and Harry included, while it simply passed over most of the other students.

It made the four of them shiver uncomfortably, and Daphne wrapped her sweater- one that Harry was fairly certain actually belonged to Neville- tighter around herself.

“Right then.” Moody grunted, when the last person had declared themselves present. “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures- You’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a murmur of agreement

“But you’re behind on dealing with curses.” Moody nodded. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark-”

“What, aren’t you staying?” Weasley blurted out.

Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at the redheaded boy, who looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled.

It was the first time Harry had seen him do so.

The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he did actually know how to smile.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I’m staying for just one year. Special favor to McGonagall. She’s a dear old friend of mine.”

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

“So, straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then.” Moody nodded. “However, due to circumstances, I’ve been given clearance to show you exactly what they do.”

Harry’s blood ran cold, and, instinctively, his hand shot out and grabbed hold of Theo’s, who squeezed it tightly.

He could see the pale faces of his friends, and the rest of the Slytherins around him.

They all knew what that meant.

They all knew just how fucked up this lesson was about to be.

“How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.” Moody continued, his blue eye swiveling towards Lavender Brown, one of the Gryffindors, who was showing her friend something under her desk.

The eye could, apparently, see through solid wood, and Harry could see Daphne becoming even more uncomfortable.

A flash of anger ran through him at that, the sudden realization hitting him.

Could Moody see through clothes, too?

It took every ounce of willpower he had not to jump up and yank that stupid eye out of that stupid man’s head, and, like he read his mind, Blaise looked over at him, a furious look on his face.

Obviously, they’d had the same thought.

And they were both about ready to jump the bastard.

“So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” Moody asked, breaking their trains of thought, and a few hands slowly rose into the air.

Moody pointed at Weasley, who spoke up hesitantly.

“Er… My dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes.” Moody nodded appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse. That’s what they’re claiming your sister was under, isn’t it?”

Weasley nodded, his expression pale. He obviously didn’t like being reminded of his sister’s current plight.

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar.

Three large, black spiders were scuttling around inside it in a panic, and Theo’s hand gripped his tighter.

Neither of them liked spiders, much.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered.

“Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a thread of silk and began to swing back and forth as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles.

Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Many of the Gryffindors were laughing, but none of the Slytherins were.

Hermione wasn’t either.

And Harry could taste blood in his mouth again, the walls of the school reacting in horror to the use of an Unforgivable within it.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control…” He said quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”

Harry wanted nothing more than to jump up and rescue that spider. He hated the damn things, he utterly despised them and their legs, but watching it be rolled around like a toy made him feel sick.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse.” Moody growled out. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. I’m sure many of you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

There was a pointed look in Draco and Theo’s direction, and Harry felt magic spark at his fingertips.

“But, the Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” He barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar, the poor insect stumbling like it was coming out of a daze, being crawled over by the other two spiders, who were just as frantic as they had been when the jar first opened.

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

“The Cruciatus Curse.” Theo choked out, his face pale, and his eyes wide, like he hadn’t expected to speak at all.

Moody nodded, reaching into the jar and grabbing out another one of the spiders, engorging it with a simple spell and making most of the front row of students recoil.

“Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently-

His mouth felt like it was full of blood.

Theo’s hand was squeezing his so hard he thought that the bones were going to pop.

“Stop it!” Daphne suddenly shrieked, jumping up and shoving her chair back, startling the professor. “Stop it!”

Startled, Moody stopped the curse, dropping the spider back into the jar.

He was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again.

“Pain. You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was very popular once too.”

The man had a slight look of remorse on his face for a moment, before he shook his head.

“Right… And the last one?”

“...The Killing Curse.” Hermione said quietly, her voice thick with tears. She was shaking like a leaf, her cheeks wet as she looked away from their professor, making brief eye contact with Harry.

“Ah.” Moody said, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra… The Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop.

It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Moody raised his wand, and Harry shut his eyes, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

The horrified gasps from his classmates told him everything he needed to know.

“Not nice.” Moody said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right here in this classroom.”

Harry opened his eyes again, his gaze being met with both of Moody’s eyes.

He hated this man. He hated him.

He wanted him dead.

Moody began to speak again, but Harry felt like he was listening to him underwater, unable to focus on his words.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it — you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.” He explained. “Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

“Now, those three curses- Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus- Are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need to be prepared. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills… Copy this down…”

Harry didn’t.

None of his friends did either.

They were all frozen.

Terrified, frozen, and sick.

All he could think about was how easily he cast the Killing Curse only a few months ago, looking Pettigrew square in the eyes and killing him for what he’d done to James and Lily.

How easily he’d killed Lockhart in his second year.

Quirrell, too.

Even that masked Death Eater at the World Cup.

All of them had died at his hand, and he made a silent vow.

Mad-Eye Moody would die by his hand before the year is out.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Curse would take him out, the same way it had taken out their first three Professors.

Harry would just… Help it along.

Chapter Text

—

Draco stared down at the flyer in his hand, his mind racing as he made his way through the halls, up towards the Transfiguration Classroom with a decent level of anxiety in his chest.

Truth be told, he’d never actually considered Healing as a path he wanted to go down. A potioneer, like Uncle Sev? Absolutely.

But a Healer?

It was… Well, it was new.

Helping Harry with removing the Dark Mark from his father’s arm had unlocked something in the back of his mind, and suddenly, everything related to medicine fascinated him.

He’d scoured the library with Hermione’s help, trying to find any books on healing spells and anything else he could find on the subject, ending up disappointed when he could barely find anything beyond simple mending charms and Wiggenweld Potions.

So, seeing that Professor Volkov, a licensed, legitimate healer, was starting a club that taught actual healing techniques?

How could Draco resist?

But, at the same time, there was a part of him that was scared that they wouldn’t let him in.

As much as his family has done over the years to try and fix their reputation, some people still heard the name Malfoy and thought of Death Eaters, and dark magic, and monsters.

Draco took a slow, deep breath, stepping up to the Transfiguration classroom and knocking thrice, relaxing the slightest bit when the door popped open with ease, and he stepped inside.

All of the desks and chairs had been pushed to the side wall, and poufs had been set upon the floor in a large semicircle. Most of them were filled, but there were still plenty of open spaces. Professor Volkov sat on a large pouf as well, his legs crossed beneath him, and he lit up with a bright smile when he saw Draco.

“Ah! Mr. Malfoy! Come to join us?” He asked, gesturing to one of the poufs across from him.

“Yes, sir. If there’s space for me.”

“There is space for anyone who wishes to open their mind and learn the noble art of healing. Please, sit anywhere you like.”

Draco nodded, quickly making her way over to the semi-circle and sitting down, nodding politely at the seventh year Ravenclaw girl who he sat next to. She smiled back, before turning back towards the professor, who hummed, looking around.

“Well… I must say, this is a much better turn out than I was expecting.” He said with a bright smile. “Healing is not the most popular of paths in life, despite its usefulness. Most people would prefer to be an Auror, or a Quidditch star, or any number of other things. And yes, I am aware that most of you are only here to learn the basics, but for those of you who find your calling here?”

“I can only hope that you find true joy in this path, and I am happy to help you along it anyway I can. To start us off… I think we should take a moment to introduce ourselves. Tell us your name, your year, your house, and why you want to learn healing, if you would? We will start here.” Volkov gestured over to the side of the semi-circle opposite of Draco, and the familiar boy over there began to introduce himself.

“Uh… I’m, Colin Creevy.” He said quickly. “A third year Gryffindor, and, uhm… I wanted to learn healing because my little brother, Dennis, just started here at Hogwarts, and he’s disaster prone. I don’t want him to spend all his time in the Hospital Wing, so I wanna be able to help him.”

“A noble cause.” Volkov nodded solemnly, and gestured for the next person in line to speak.

One by one, everyone introduced themselves. There were three Ravenclaw seventh years, who were thinking about going for a Healing Mastery when they graduated, as well as a couple of Hufflepuffs, and a few Gryffindors, who were mostly there to learn some of the basic healing tricks.

Draco, surprisingly, was the only Slytherin.

When it got to his turn, he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous.

“I, ah… I’m Draco Malfoy.” He said quietly. “Slytherin, fourth year, and, ah… I was at the Quidditch World Cup this year.”

There were a couple of sharp breaths around the room at that, and he slowly found the words he wanted to say.

“...My father nearly died during it. My friends and I… We had to save his life, and it… It scared me.” Draco shook his head, clutching his wand a bit. “I doubt something like that will ever happen again, but ever since it did… I have nightmares about it. About what would have happened if we didn’t… And I just, want to be able to do better next time. That’s why I’m here.”

Volkov smiled softly at him, his eyes filled with sympathy and kindness.

“I am glad to hear that your father is doing alright, Mr. Malfoy. There is nothing more terrifying than nearly losing a loved one. I hope I can help you learn more, and may the gods forbid, you never need to use that knowledge in that circumstance ever again.”

Draco nodded, offering him a weak grin at that. After a moment of awkward silence, Volkov sat up again, clapping his hands once and pulling everyone’s attention back to him.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, I suppose we should get to the meat of this. Today, I will introduce you all to the basics of healing, including some basic spells. To get us started… Have you ever heard of the spell Episkey?”

He lit up at that, raising his hand, and beaming when the professor called on him immediately.

“That’s the charm for healing mild injuries, right? Like a broken nose, or a split lip?”

“Exactly right! Terrible for something like a broken bone, but… For a dislocated joint, like this?” Volkov grinned, showing them all his left hand, before he jerked his pinky to the side, dislocating it completely and without flinching. “It works wonders. Mr. Malfoy, would you?”

Draco gulped, nodding a bit and grabbing his wand, standing up and making his way over to his professor as anxiety pulled at his stomach.

He just… Really hoped that he didn’t mess this up.

—

Thankfully, Draco not only did not mess up, but he did such a good job, that Professor Volkov praised him for a solid ten minutes on his wand control, pronunciation, and efficiency.

Which, made his head spin a bit.

And that was how the rest of that first lesson went, with each of the other students practicing healing spells on dummies first, and then Volkov himself, which terrified all of them.

Apparently, the man was a shambling mess held together by ‘spite and a desire to teach’, so he had no qualms about repeatedly injuring himself so that his students could practice.

It was the best practical lesson that Draco had ever had, and he was still riding that high when he got back to the common room, a wide grin on his face as he plopped onto the sofa next to Theo, who was going over his Ancient Runes essay.

“You’re in a good mood.” His friend said thoughtfully, looking over at him. “Healing Club go well?”

“Yeah. I-... I’m really good at it.” He replied brightly. “Like, really good. Almost as good as I am at potions. Professor Volkov said that he’s never seen anyone take to it so easily.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I had a lot of fun.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Draco chuckled a bit, slumping against him and nuzzling his shoulder the slightest bit. Theo rested his head atop his friend’s, tilting his parchment towards him.

“Did I spell that right?”

“You need a ‘u’ there.”

“Thank you.” He murmured, quickly correcting his spelling on his essay and sighing. “...So, Healing?”

“Yeah.” Draco grinned. “Healing. I really like it.”

“Do you like it because you enjoy helping people, or is it because you think Volkov’s hot?” Theo raised a brow, and his friend let out an affronted gasp, shoving his head to the side.

“He is way too old for me, thank you very much!” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I just like my talents being acknowledged.”

His friend wagged his eyebrows at him, and Draco glared, flicking him in the forehead.

“Either way. I still prefer Krum.”

“Ah, yes. Krum.” Theo sighed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “You swoon for him, Draco.”

“I do not swoon.”

There was a brief pause, and even though he wasn’t looking at his friend… Draco could still feel the stare he was getting.

“...Okay, fuck you, I might swoon over him.” He muttered. “But only if he does something particularly swoon worthy.”

“There we go. Glad you could admit it.” Theo sighed, gently patting him on the back and sitting up, setting his homework to the side and looking at Draco. “Okay, teasing over. Tell me all about it.”

Draco smiled a bit, sitting up, looking over at him as he began to explain everything they did that afternoon.

“Okay, so… Apparently, Volkov can just, dislocate his fingers? He let me practice Episkey on him like, eight times, and it worked perfectly every time! We’re going to practice Brackium Emendo on dummies next week, and I’m really excited-”

—

“Daphne, what are you doing?” Blaise asked as he emerged from the bathroom, his voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. The blonde girl was, rather angrily, it seemed, shoving the beds around a bit, like she was trying to make room.

“Making! Room!” She grunted between pulls. “Hermione’s stupid- roommates- are giving her shit for being a werewolf! And I will not stand for it!”

“And so we’re..?”

“Pansy, Millicent, and Tracy won’t let me bunk her in our room.”

He stared at her a moment longer, and she stopped trying to pull the beds around, standing up and sighing, hanging her head.

“...I’m moving us all in here! Because Hermione doesn’t feel safe in her dorm anymore! And the other girls won’t let her sleep in my room.”

Blaise nodded slowly, an affectionate sigh escaping him. “Alright, let me just… Finish brushing my teeth, then I can help you, okay?”

“Okay, thank you.”

He disappeared back into the bathroom, spitting out the last of his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, before he hustled back out to the main room and grabbed his wand, starting to adjust the positions of the beds.

“Theo and Harry share a bed, so we already have an empty bed…” He said softly. “That just means we need to squeeze three in here.”

“Two, actually.” Daphne corrected, walking over to her bag, which she’d set atop his desk, grabbing out to shrunken down beds. “Neville and I are sharing. So are Lue and ‘Mionie.”

“Oh, are they dating or something? Did I miss that update in the friend group?”

“No, Hermione and I’s stupid wolf instincts make us really hate sleeping alone right now. Neville puts me to sleep the fastest, and Luna puts her to sleep the fastest. I think it’s the pack mentality.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Blaise hummed, watching as she set the two beds down and flicked her wand at them, both of them growing right back to their original size. He helped her adjust them again, until there was still plenty of walking room within the bedroom.

It was then that he paused for a moment, a frown on his face.

“Is our dorm bigger than it used to be?” He asked, looking around. Daphne, in turn, also looked around, her eyes wide.

“Oh shit…” She whispered. “It totally is. Do you think the castle..?”

“The castle totally knew.”

“...I love you, Hogwarts. You brilliant, brilliant castle.”

There was a slight rumbling under their feet, then, and both of them went stock-still.

It took a moment for them to regain their bearings after that, but once they did, Blaise laughed.

“I think the castle loves you too, Daph.”

In turn, she gently patted the stone wall, a smile on her face.

“Good castle. Very good castle. I’ll decorate you very nicely once I have everything moved in.”

Another very small rumble signaled the castle's delight at that statement, and the two of them burst out laughing once again.

It was obviously very pleased with this turn of events.

—

Dearest Sirius,

I’m so glad to know you and Remus have settled into your new home in Portugal. I know you can’t disclose your current location to us right now, for safety reasons, but I’m still very pleased to know that you’re safe.

I know that this request may be difficult to fulfill, but, I’m dealing with a problem at the moment, and I was hoping you could maybe, possibly, help me with it?

I know that during the war, you worked alongside Dumbledore, fighting against the Dark Lord. I also know that you had more than your fair share of run-ins with Aurors, Death Eaters, and everyone in between.

The Aurors are what concerns me at this moment. One in particular.

Alastor Moody.

He’s currently acting as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts and, for his very first lesson with Harry, Draco, and the rest of the kids? He showed off the damn Unforgivables.

They’re all terrified of him now, and I don’t blame them.

Even for a man known for being utterly mad, that feels as though it’s gotten out of control, does it not?

I know you weren’t close with the man, but I simply had to ask… Does this sound like something he would do? I simply need confirmation, as I am one more minor incident from going to McGonagall and pitching a Walburga Level Fit.

As I would prefer not to do that, I wanted to be sure.

I love you, dearest cousin, and I hope you’re recovering well.

My love to Remus as well.

Yours,

Narcissa

-

Cissy,

Moody fucking WHAT?

There’s Mad-Eye Mad, and then there’s that. That’s not normal.

Has it been a decade since I’ve last seen the man? Yes. Does that sound like something he would do to a bunch of fourteen year olds? Absolutely not.

Moody wasn’t a psychopath. He was a nutter, but he firmly believed that children shouldn’t be involved in wars. Fighting is supposed to be kept to the adults, and kids shouldn’t be involved.

Do I need to come back up?? I will come back up. I’ll fly on this bloody Hippogriff and come right back up there.

I’m sorry if my handwriting is shit I’m, panicking.

Let me know that everyone is safe and alright. Please.

Love,

Sirius

P.S. I’m completely serious about flying back up there, you know. I will. We’ll disguise me or something and I’ll beat his ass.

Send me to Azkaban for a crime I DID commit this time.

Fucking asshole.

-

Narcissa smiled down at the parchment in her hand, a small chuckle escaping her.

Andromeda, who was on the other side of the room, studying the crystal and the locket, looked over with a raised brow. “What are you giggling about, Cissy?”

“Oh, Sirius sent a letter. He wants to come and beat Moody into the ground.”

“I say let him.”

“Of course you say let him. I’d rather not lose our cousin again, though.” She sighed, shaking her head as she set the parchment down, walking over to her sister to look at the notes she’d taken. “Have you found anything new?”

“Not yet.” Andromeda sighed, standing up and cracking her back. “All I can tell is that this locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself, and that sets up a disturbing trend.”

“Damn… Founders items?”

“Likely. Though not Gryffindor. He wouldn’t want to disgrace a piece of his soul by lodging it into something belonging to the man.”

Narcissa chuckled at that, nodding a bit as she looked down at the Horcruxes, a shudder running through her when she stared at them for slightly too long.

“I hate that there’s two of them.” She muttered. “I hate it so much.”

“Trust me, I do too.” Her sister sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It just means there’s probably more than just these two.”

“So, we need to make a list of what possible objects they would be…”

“Exactly. Uhhh… Ah!” Andromeda grabbed a piece of parchment, and one of the pens that Harry had given Narcissa earlier in the year, scribbling down a quick list.

-

Known Horcruxes: Locket, and Harry (Removed, now in Crystal)

Possible Horcruxes: Founders Items (Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff), ???

-

“There.” She announced. “We can add things as we go.”

Narcissa chuckled, nodding a bit. “Good plan. Make sure to keep that hidden, we don’t want to risk anyone else finding it…”

“You got it.”

They quickly settled back into a comfortable silence, with Andromeda continuing to poke and prod at the two Horcruxes, while Narcissa paced back and forth, trying to figure out what, exactly, they could add to the list.

After a while, Ted and Lucius, who were both mildly muddy, made their way into the office, causing both of their wives to look up with a smile.

“Hello, love.” Narcissa crooned, making her way over to her husband and kissing his cheek. “Why are you covered in mud?”

“Ted and I had a bit of a duel in the garden.” He chuckled, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “He won.”

“Not without some struggle.” Ted corrected, sitting down next to Andromeda and resting his forehead on his wife’s shoulder. “Lucius is a damn good duelist. I can see how he lasted so long during the World Cup.”

“Ah, Andromeda was shielding me.”

“Lucius. You shouldn’t strain yourself so much.” She chided gently, a frown on her face as her hand came to rest on her husband’s arm. “You’re still healing…”

“I’m perfectly fine, Cissa.” Lucius reassured her, a smile on his face. “I can’t let my skills get rusty. Not with everything still happening around us… How is your research coming along?”

Narcissa frowned, his blatant attempt to change the subject rubbing her the wrong way, but before she had a chance to continue bothering her husband about it, Andromeda spoke up.

“Can you think of anything else that would be a Horcrux, Lucius?” She asked, looking over at her brother-in-law curiously. That caused the blonde man to pause, and he frowned.

“...Yes, actually. The Diary.” He said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was destroyed two years ago, I think… Harry said that the magic of it made him feel sick when he was around it. Like it was dark, and dangerous.”

“Its destroyed? Thank Merlin…” Andromeda muttered, adding the diary to the list. “Anything else?”

“I… Oh… You aren’t going to like this.” Lucius murmured, rubbing his face. “...Shortly before He died, he entrusted another one of his lieutenants with something. I don’t know exactly what it was, because I didn’t… I didn’t see it, but… He said that she needed to place it somewhere secure. Somewhere no one else will be able to get a hold of it.”

“Lucius?” Narcissa asked, looking up at him with a frown. “What is it?”

“...I think Bellatrix may have one in her vault at Gringotts.”

The room went silent after that.

Even the soft hum of magic that was ever present in the house was gone.

And it was only broken by a single, simple word from Ted, who’s face had gone ghostly white.

“...Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Two years ago, Luna watched as one of her best friends, one of the few people in this world who never judged her for the strange things she said, or any of her oddities, lose the only family he had ever known until that point, and take his revenge upon the man who took them away from him.

Less than five months ago, she was nearly killed by the man who betrayed her best friend’s biological parents, sending them to their deaths and costing him a life that would have been filled with nothing but love and happiness.

And now, there was a man at Hogwarts threatening to take that away from him once again.

And Luna was not having that.

Harry did everything he could for the people he loved.

He nearly killed himself, believing that if he did, he would be able to save the lives of the people he loved most.

He was willing to sacrifice himself, for the slimmest chance that she, and the rest of their friends, would live.

He loved them all in such a way that it consumed his very being, and she knew that he would die for them.

He would kill for them.

And he would do both with a smile on his face, simply because Harry James Hartford looked at his friends as though they were the sun, the moon, and the stars, and all of the most beautiful things in the world wrapped up in one, even when they were at their worst.

…He deserved to be treated that way, too.

Which, was why Luna had carefully removed her potions knife from her potions kit.

It was why she stole the invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map from Harry’s bag.

And it was why she was creeping up towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, hidden beneath the cloak, and staring at the name currently in the office.

Bartemius Crouch.

Or, as her mother had always referred to him as?

Barty.

Luna’s Uncle Barty.

Fiance of her dear Uncle Evan, even though they weren’t able to get married, as Evan was killed by Alastor Moody in early 1981.

One of the boys that her mother had considered her best friends.

One of the boys who, instead of listening to her mother’s warnings, joined up with a madman and doomed themselves to a fate worse than death.

One of the boys who, by all accounts, was supposed to be dead.

But he wasn’t.

He was right there, and Luna had a knife tucked into her skirt pocket.

And he was going to hurt Harry, if she didn’t do something about it now.

She slowly opened the door, trying to do it as quietly as she possibly could, stepping in with her socked feet. Her eyes landed on the man, who was sitting at his desk, grading papers.

His blue eye, the magic one, shot up towards her immediately, and he sat up quickly.

“...Miss Lovegood?” He asked, his voice faltering a bit, and Luna removed the cloak from her head.

“Hello, Professor.” She replied softly, pulling the cloak off the rest of the way.

“It’s past curfew. You should be in bed.”

“I know.”

“Well? Go on!”

“...No. We need to talk.”

The two of them stared at one another for a moment, and she could see the wheels turning in Barty’s head. He was trying to figure out if she knew the truth, and what he needed to do to protect himself if she did.

But, she knew he wouldn’t be able to hurt her.

She looked too much like Pandora.

Luna closed the door behind her, walking over to him, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him from where she was standing.

It took her a moment to find the words she wanted to say, but once she did, she spoke them with a venomous tone that surprised even herself.

“...You’re going to kill Harry, aren’t you, Barty? At least, you’re going to try.”

Barty didn’t need to answer. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know.

She stepped closer to him, then.

“I’m going to tell you this one, single time, Bartemius.” She said quietly. “And the only reason you get this warning, is because of what you meant to my mother, and my uncle. You get this one warning, and if you do not heed it, I make no promises of what will happen to you.”

“Harry is mine.”

“...Luna, I-” He tried to say, but she cut him off.

“He’s mine. All of them are. And if you do anything to hurt them, if you make them uncomfortable, if you even upset them, I will end you.”

Barty stared at her, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, and she whipped the potions knife from her pocket, pressing it up against his neck and silencing him.

“Like I said, Barty.” Luna hissed. “I’ll end you. And they will never stop finding your body. So whatever your plans for Harry were, throw them out right now, because if you do anything to hurt him?”

She gently dragged the knife across his throat, not applying any pressure so she wouldn’t actually cut him, but simply letting the cold metal glide across his throat.

“Got it?”

He gave a curt nod, and she pulled her hand away, tucking the knife back into her skirt and smiling at him, her voice taking on its normal, airy tone once again.

“That’s very good. Thank you, Professor. I’ll see you in class tomorrow!”

And, with that, she turned around, pulled the invisibility cloak over her head again, and disappeared back into the halls to return to the Slytherin dorms, leaving Barty in a state of mild panic and anxiety.

After all, Hermione was currently reading Interview with the Vampire for bedtime, and Luna was rather enthralled with the tales of Louis and Lestat, and the toxic relationship the two of them shared, so she didn’t really feel like missing a chapter tonight.

—

“Professor, you’re going to what?” Hermione asked incredulously, her eyes wide and terrified as her hand shot out, grabbing Blaise’s and squeezing it like a vice grip.

Harry couldn’t help but agree with her statement, honestly.

Putting them all under the Imperius Curse? In the middle of a school day?

That sounded like a fucking disaster.

“You need to know what it feels like.” Moody replied gruffly, although his voice sounded more strained than usual. “If you’d rather learn the hard way- When someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely- Fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.”

No one said a word, nor did they move, all of them too afraid to step out of a Moody lesson, even if they were terrified. Daphne kept her face pressed into Theo’s shoulder from behind, her breaths soft and shaky as she tried not to panic.

It was no secret that the professor made her uncomfortable, what with his magic eye and all, but this reaction seemed intense, even with that.

“Daph, do you wanna leave?” He whispered softly, looking at her with a soft gaze as he squeezed Theo’s hand. “I can walk you back to-”

“No, I just, uhm…” Daphne shook her head, taking a step back and wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m going. I can’t…”

“Okay, do you want one of us to-?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” She nodded, quickly giving her friends her goodbye’s before she hustled out of the classroom, grabbing her things on the way out and shutting the door behind her.

There was a brief pause, before Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them.

It was a viscerally uncomfortable experience.

One that Harry was terrified by.

Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas, the Gryffindor Seeker that he had gotten on well with last year, hopped around the room, singing the American national anthem.

Lavender Brown, one of Hermione’s old roommates, was imitating a squirrel.

And Weasley performed a series of impressive gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state.

Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

“Hartford. You next.” The man grunted, and Harry took a shaky breath, stepping into the middle of the classroom, which had been helpfully cleared of desks.

Moody raised his wand at him and cast the spell, and he braced, feeling a strange wave of calm pass over him.

It was as though every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

Then, a moment of panic rushed through him.

He was not fucking supposed to be this calm right now.

And he shot back into his body, anger flaring in his chest as he glared at Moody.

“Piss off.” He snapped, startling the man.

“Now, that’s more like it!” Moody growled, a grin on his face. “I’ve never seen anyone break through the Imperius Curse so easily! Hartford, come here, let’s show them how to-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. I did what you wanted, now I’m leaving, because you shouldn’t be putting anyone under the Imperius Curse, much less students.” Harry huffed, turning on his heel. “Come with me if you want, I need to go check on my friend.”

Blaise sagged in relief, trotting after him and grabbing his stuff, while the rest of his friends followed as well. They left in a singular unit, none of them even turning to look back at Moody, and it didn’t take long for Harry to find Daphne’s magic.

He looked at Hermione when they stood in front of the girl’s bathroom, a silent question on his face, and she nodded, pushing the door open and slipping inside.

He couldn’t hear what the two girls were talking about, although he could hear the soft tones of their voices, and the way Daphne sounded like she was in tears.

It took a few minutes before they left the room again, Hermione’s arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. She looked at the boys with a small smile.

“I need to take Daph up to Madam Pomfrey.” She said softly. “Don’t worry. She’s fine, we just need a calming draught.”

“Yeah, of course.” Draco nodded. “Can we get or do anything for you guys?”

“No, I think we’re okay… We’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See you later. It seems like it’s gonna be a chocolate and cakes sort of night.” Harry agreed softly, smiling at them as they made their way over to the stairs, heading to the Hospital Wing. Once the two girls were out of earshot, his smile fell off his face. “...I’m gonna kill that mangy old fuck.”

“I’ll help.” Theo hummed a bit, grabbing his hand and leading them away from the bathroom, starting to mutter about how they would get away with killing the ex-auror, and how they would dispose of the body.

It was a morbid conversation, but, it was also endearing to see that his boyfriend was so willing to get rid of the man.

And, maybe it was the fact that Harry was about a screw away from being considered utterly mad, but he also found it hot.

Maybe he could convince Theo to shout at Moody in Bulgarian while he stabbed him?

Now that would be a dream come true.

—

It seemed like a bug had bit every last professor on campus in the ass, and they were assigning so much homework it was turning into a madhouse.

Professor Volkov was having everyone practice their hedgehog pin cushions every class, and thankfully, they were rapidly improving, although most people still had slightly too many spikes on them for it to be anywhere close to perfect.

Stacks of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes parchments littered the Slytherin Common Room at all times, as all of the students who took the classes, third through seventh years, were trying to help each other out as much as possible.

Meanwhile, Binns had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Snape was forcing them to research antidotes, which everyone took deadly seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked.

The Slytherins all knew they were safe from that fate, but, they still wanted to make their Head of House proud.

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms, which Harry was helping his friends practice almost constantly, and they were all decent enough at it to at least impress the man.

Blaise had even begun working on his wandless summoning, which was going far better than they had expected, and he was able to get things to fly across the entire dorm room and into his hand.

And their pride in him was completely unmatched.

But, due to that constant workload, they had elected to spend most of their evenings locked up in the library, or the common room, just… Working. Only leaving for dinner, then right back to work until it was time for bed.

Except for Thursdays, which is when Draco went to Healing Club, which had quickly become an obsession for him. He loved the thrill of healing, and he loved knowing that he was learning how to heal wounds and save lives.

He talked about it constantly, explaining the intricacies of the human body, the way the tendons and muscles worked together to help the body move, and the different methods of healing wounds caused by different materials. The differences in treating a stab, a slash, and a cut, and how to tell how deep a bruise really goes.

They were engrossed in one of those conversations one late October evening, having just gone and grabbed Draco from his club meeting to head down for dinner, when they noticed a massive group of students, all crowding around a large sign that had been erected in front of the large, marble staircase.

Neville and Blaise, the tallest of the group, stood on their toes so they could see above the rest of the heads, their faces erupting into grins when they realized what was happening.

“Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are arriving on the thirtieth.” Neville said, looking over at them. “For the Tournament.”

“We’re going to be let out of class half an hour early so we can all greet them when they arrive.” Blaise added. “Hogwarts is about to become a hellscape.”

“Oh god, it is, isn’t it?” Harry groaned, pulling away and heading into the Great Hall. “This is all anyone is going to focus on for the next week…”

“Maybe we can plan Moody’s murder while everyone’s distracted?”

“Hey, maybe!”

He laughed a bit, but he didn’t miss the way Luna’s expression darkened, and he cast a soft, worried look at the girl, who gently shook her head.

They all sat down to eat, and all around them, the only thing anyone was talking about was the Tournament.

And, of course, the two foreign schools coming to stay at Hogwarts.

There was constant chatter about what the students would be like, how they would mesh with the students of Hogwarts, who would be entering the tournament, and about a million other things.

It was like that for the entire week leading up to the thirtieth.

When the day finally came, it seemed as though the school was holding its breath, and Harry couldn’t blame it.

But, mixed in with the tense air, was a sense of pure excited anticipation.

Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and the excitement made even Defense that much more bearable.

When the bell rang early, Harry and his friends hurried down to the Slytherin dormitories, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall, where the rest of the school was gathering.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines, which meant that the group had to be temporarily separated, but they were still close enough to see one another, which was relieving.

Snape walked up and down the Slytherin line, nodding in approval before he stood by their side.

“Good work.” He said simply. “You’re all presentable, and you were all here faster than the other four houses. Five points to Slytherin.”

“Thank you, sir.” They chorused, before falling silent again.

Headmistress McGonagall was at the front of the four lines, looking over them all as though she was making sure that everyone was in their places, before she nodded.

“Follow me, please!” She said quickly. “First years in front… No pushing!”

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

Harry, who was standing between Draco and Theo, while positively shivering his ass off in the cool night air, looked around, trying to figure out exactly where the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students would be arriving from.

“They wouldn’t be able to apparate in.” Blaise said thoughtfully. “There are wards around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. It’s why you have to apparate just beyond the border…”

“Too cold for brooms.” Neville added a few feet away.

“And too far.”

“Maybe a p-portkey?” Harry shivered, his teeth clattering, and Theo pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head and murmuring a warming charm over the two of them. “Thanks, love…”

“You’re welcome, and probably not. They’re wix, they want to make a grand entrance.”

He nodded a bit, before a strange zing hit him from the left, and he whipped his head up towards where he felt the magic from.

It almost looked like… A house?

No, not a house.

It was a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

“The delegation from Beauxbatons is arriving!” Headmistress McGonagall called. “Be ready!”

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage flew lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed- Then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year’s foot, causing him to curse but still catch the younger boy, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground.

A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

“Oh… They’re gorgeous.” Daphne crooned. “They’re Abraxans. Healthy ones, at that. They only drink single malt whisky-”

She was cut off, however, as a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps.

He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage, one the size of a child’s sled, followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life.

The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained.

Harry had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face, large, black eyes, and a slightly crooked nose.

Her hair was drawn back in a shining bun at the base of her neck, and she was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

McGonagall started to clap, and everyone else followed suit.

“Madam Maxine. It’s wonderful to see you, my dear.” She smiled, stepping up to the large woman and taking her hands. Madam Maxine smiled down at her, leaning down so the two women could kiss each other’s cheeks.

“McGonagall… I trust that you are well?” She said, her voice thick with a deep, French accent.

“Very well, very well.”

“Wonderful. These are my pupils.”

Madam Maxine rose back up to her full height, gesturing behind her, and Harry’s attention was finally pulled away from the giantess, looking over to the dozen or so boys and girls who had just emerged from the carriage.

All of them were in their late teens, and were now standing behind their headmistress, shivering in the cold Scottish air, which made sense, as their blue uniforms seemed to be made of fine silks, not at all suitable for the weather.

A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Harry could see of them, as they were standing in Madame Maxime’s enormous shadow, they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

Professor Volkov, in an effort to be a gentleman, produced a stack of parchments from his robes and tapped them with his wand, each one turning into a thick, fur lined cloak. Once they were transformed, he walked over to the Beauxbatons students, passing them out and draping them over their shoulders.

There were multiple soft choruses of ‘merci’ and what Harry was fairly certain was the French version of ‘thank god’, as well as a soft conversation between McGonagall and Madam Maxine about her horses, but he wasn’t able to focus on that.

No, he was, instead, focusing on the lake.

Which, instead of being perfectly still, was bubbling like a pot of boiling water.

“Theo. Look.” He whispered, pointing over at the dark water, and his boyfriend’s eyes lit up.

“Durmstrang’s ship.” Theo grinned.

“A ship?”

“Yeah. Watch.”

Excited cheers erupted from the students as, true to Theo’s word, a massive ship rose out of the water.

It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent surface, and began to glide toward the bank.

A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

There were people disembarking, all of them wearing thick, heavy cloaks, and layers of fur to keep the cold out.

The man at the front of the group, however, wore sleek, silver furs, and there was something about him that gave Harry the heebie-jeebies.

“McGonagall!” He said with a grin. “How are you, my dear lady?”

“It’s good to see you, Kakaroff. I’m well. You?” McGonagall said politely, stepping forward. Kakaroff gently took her hands, kissing the backs of them, before he stood up once again, looking up at the castle with a rather pleased expression.

“Very well, very well. Ah, Hogwarts…”

Karkaroff had a light, very false sounding voice that made him sound as though he was constantly lying. When he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and skinny, with his wispy, curled goatee, and short cropped white hair.

“Dear old Hogwarts.” He said, looking up at the castle and smiling. His teeth were rather stained, like he was a heavy smoker, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes. “How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… You don’t mind, McGonagall? Viktor has a slight head cold…”

Draco let out a sharp gasp beside him, and it didn’t take him long to realize exactly why.

Viktor Krum, star of the Bulgarian Quidditch team, was standing in front of them, scowling at his headmaster with an expression that Harry recognized.

Complete distaste, possibly even tilting towards utter hatred.

“...This just got far more interesting.” He mused, a smile on his face as he looked over at Theo, their professors directing them back into the castle, leading their guests inside as well.

The excited chatter of many of the girls, all of them fawning over Krum, made him chuckle.

Yes, this had all become much, much more interesting.

Chapter Text

“Krum! Over here!” Theo called, flagging the Bulgarian students over to the Slytherin table as they made their way back to their seats. The Beauxbatons students had all made their way over to the Ravenclaw table, which Luna had snuck herself away from to press herself up against Harry’s back, and the Durmstrang students just all seemed a bit confused as to where to go.

Upon seeing the boy calling out to them, Krum relaxed exponentially, making his way over to them and shaking Theo’s hand, a small smile on his face. The rest of his classmates followed suit, taking their seats about the table and making sure to leave room for the rest of the Slytherins.

“Здравей, приятелю. Радвам се да те видя отново.” Krum said softly as he sat down between Theo and Draco, who was furiously trying to hide a rising blush on his cheeks.

“Ти също. Надявам се пътуването да не е било много ужасно.” Theo replied with a smile, peering over his shoulder at Harry, knowing full well that his words sent a jolt of electricity up his boyfriend’s spine. “Не обръщайте внимание на моя Хари, той обича да говоря български.”

Harry shot a glare at him, one without any real heat, before he turned away from the two of them, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach as his boyfriend’s soft voice floated into his ears from behind him and focusing, instead, on what was happening around them.

Hermione and Weasley were locked in a mild argument, which ended when she growled at him, marching over to the Hufflepuff table to take Neville over to theirs as well. Weasley, in turn, glared over at him and his friends, while also trying to fight the awestruck look on his face at the fact that Krum was sitting there with them.

The rest of the Bulgarian students were looking at the golden goblets and plates with fascination, as well as the Great Hall’s ceiling, quietly asking questions to whichever Slytherin student was closest to them.

The Beauxbatons students were looking around, seemingly unimpressed, and Harry bit back a chuckle.

From what he’d been told by Hermione and Blaise, Beauxbatons was one of the fanciest, wealthiest wixen schools.

And, as such, they had a bit of a high and mighty feel to them.

His eyes flickered up to the head table, watching as Filch, who was wearing his finest, moldy, brown coat, moved four chairs up on either side of Headmistress McGonagall’s, which, certainly gave him pause.

“Hey, Nev.” He said softly as his friend sat across from him. “Filch is putting out four chairs… Who else do you think is coming?”

“I have no idea.” His friend replied honestly, shifting to the side a bit as Hermione squeezed in, looking at the Durmstrang girl across from her and starting to quietly chat with her. Harry was fairly certain that he heard her mention S.P.E.W., and pull out a few buttons, and he was rather delighted to see the girl nod, hand over two sickles, and take one of the pins.

That was an unexpected turn of events.

The speed with which his sister had started successful foreign outreach was impressive, and he was about to jump in and start helping pass out buttons, but the last of the Hogwarts staff had begun filing in.

Last in line were Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on McGonagall’s left-hand side.

She remained standing, however, and a silence fell over the Great Hall as they all waited for her to begin speaking.

“Students, ghosts, guests, and those who are simply along for the ride.” McGonagall said, looking around the room. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

One of the Beauxbatons girls let out what was unmistakably a derisive laugh, that was quickly silenced by hundreds of pairs of eyes turning to look at her, causing her to turn a bright red and go silent.

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” McGonagall smiled. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

She sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage her in conversation.

The plates in front of them were filled with food as usual, and the house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops for their guests, as there were a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

Everyone dug in immediately, with some of the Bulgarian students helping to explain some of their dishes, while everyone attempted to guess at the French ones until Draco would chime in with the names.

In the end, Harry decided that he would rather die than eat escargot ever again, and that Moussaka was probably one of the most delicious things he’d ever eaten.

There had even been a massive platter of steak tartare, which, Hermione had been resisting feasting upon because she didn’t want to disturb their guests, until Daphne dragged the entire plate over to them and dug in as well.

No one tried to take it from them, thankfully, and the two girls got to enjoy their feast of raw meat.

The Durmstrang students fit in comfortably with the rest of the Slytherins, and, once Krum had properly settled in, he began chatting with Harry and the rest of his friends, as he did already know them from the World Cup. Even Draco had finally got his nerves under control, and was able to hold a proper conversation.

And Harry was just content to watch them, a small smile on his face.

Hermione and Draco were explaining S.P.E.W. to Krum and the rest of the Bulgarians, who all seemed very interested, especially as they heard about the unfair treatment that most house elves go through in the U.K.

Daphne and Neville had descended into a conversation on plants, because his venomous tentacula, Regina, was growing too big for her pot, and he was worried she was going to find a way to escape.

Which, was a terrifying thought.

Blaise was chatting with a familiar looking blonde girl at the Ravenclaw table, handing her a large pot of soup from theirs, and once her face registered in his mind, he smiled.

It was the Veela girl from the World Cup, the one he’d encountered at the water spigot.

What a small fucking world.

And Theo?

Theo was watching him, a small, happy smile on his face as he rested his head on his hand, fringe flopping into his eyes, and just… Watching him.

He smiled softly at his boyfriend, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hi…”

“Hi, Красив.”

“Beautiful?”

“Oh, you remembered that one?” Theo grinned, kissing him again. “Good boy.”

Harry snickered, leaning against him and closing his eyes, a smile on his face. “You call me that like, thirty times a day. How could I not?”

“You are, though.” His boyfriend let out a soft hum, reaching up and gently running his fingers through his hair, playing with the white lock at the front of his head. “Absolutely beautiful…”

“Shut up…”

“Harry.” Luna said softly, pulling his attention over to her.

“Hm?”

“Look.”

Harry nodded a bit, turning to where she was looking, a frown forming on his face.

The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while another man sat on Madam Maxine’s. It took a moment for his mind to register who it was, but the name Barty Crouch popped into his head.

And his eyes narrowed.

That was Winky’s old Master, and the one who just abandoned her without a second thought.

“Why are they here?” He asked quietly, and Blaise answered immediately.

“They must be the other judges.” He hummed. “Plus, those two were the ones who organized the Tournament. It would make sense that they want to see it start.”

He grumbled a bit, leaning back against Theo, who wrapped his arms around him from behind, nuzzling the top of his head and kissing it as well.

“Hush.” He muttered. “Don’t be rude.”

Desserts came after the main course had been finished, and the two of them ended up just sharing a couple slices of cake. Luna’s eyes stayed firmly on the staff table, but Harry couldn’t quite tell which person she was staring at, as her gaze kept flickering about, like she was trying to figure something out.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, McGonagall stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now, and Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming next, and he gently squeezed Theo’s hands, which were resting atop his chest as he held his boyfriend.

“The moment has come.” McGonagall called, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start, and I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket-”

“The what?” Draco murmured, and Krum shrugged in response.

“-Just so I may clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” There was a smattering of polite applause. “And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable, he acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand and a bright smile upon his face.

Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced, and, honestly, looked as though someone had spat in his soup.

Maybe someone had. That would be nice.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have both worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament.” Headmistress McGonagall continued. “They will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts. Mr. Filch, if you would?”

All eyes turned to Filch, who had until that point been lurking in the back of the Great Hall, approached the head table with a chest that looked as though it was encrusted with jewels. He carefully set it upon the table in front of the Headmistress, before scurrying off to the side.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways. Their magical prowess, daring, powers of deduction, and, of course, ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament.” McGonagall went on calmly, visibly pleased by the calm, and the quiet, of the many students in the Hall. “One from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

She then took her wand, tapped it thrice upon the top of the casket, and watched as it slowly opened. Once it had, she reached inside, and pulled out a large, roughly carved wooden cup.

It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Once the Goblet had been placed upon the now closed casket, she stepped back again.

“Anyone over the age of seventeen may simply write their names upon a slip of paper and, within the next twenty-four hours, place them within the Goblet. To ensure that no one underage is able to force their way into the games, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet. No, there will be no exceptions.” The Headmistress insisted, looking around with a stern glare.

No one argued back at that.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, they are obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

And with that dismissal, everyone rose, saying their goodnights to their friends as they filed out of the Great Hall.

As they walked, Karkaroff hustled up to his Durmstrang students, a wide grin on his face.

“Back to the ship, then.” He was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Krum stared at his headmaster with a look of pure distaste, but shook his head, bidding them a quick goodnight before he started to walk.

After a moment, he paused, heading back over to Draco and leaning down a bit, whispering something softly into his ear that caused the pale boy to turn a vivid scarlet. He grinned as he stood up the rest of the way, turning on his heel and following the rest of his classmates out of the school. Karkaroff followed close behind, still trying to fuss over him, ignoring Krum’s blatant dismissals.

Harry turned to look at Draco, who looked utterly giddy, and raised a brow, his own grin on his face.

“Mate, what did he just say to you?”

“He thanked me for treating him like a regular person.” He whispered, his voice incredibly high pitched. “And said that he couldn’t wait to see me tomorrow.”

“...Mate. You’re winning.” Neville whistled. “You’re absolutely winning.”

“I think I need to go throw up, actually. My stomach won’t stop flipping.”

“Oh, shit, okay, I’ll come hold your hair-”

As the two of them quickly hustled to the nearest bathroom, Harry made a quick glance over his shoulder, looking at the Goblet of Fire as they got further away from the Great Hall.

Something about it bothered him… He just couldn’t quite figure out what.

It almost felt like the calm before the storm, and he really hated that feeling.

He shook his head, turning back to his friends and smiling at them as they walked.

Now was not the time to worry about hypothetical situations, even if tomorrow was Halloween and, statistically, something bad happened every Halloween.

Maybe this time would be different, though.

Maybe.

—

Every bone in Barty’s body told him that this was a mistake.

Every. Fucking. Bone.

But, as he limped through the corridors of Hogwarts, making his way into the Great Hall, a part of him didn’t give a damn.

So what if Pandora’s daughter had threatened to kill him? If she was anything like his dear Panda, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, in the end.

He’d loved her to pieces. Considered her his sister long before he’d fallen in love with Evan, long before the two of them became betrothed in secret, hiding their romance from their families…

But she was all bark, no bite. Always had been, especially when it came to her friends.

And, Barty’s loyalty to his Lord and Master was far, far more important than a silly threat made by a silly little girl.

He would do what needed to be done.

Even if it meant that he, or little Luna Lovegood, had to die.

So, he smiled, opening the door to the Great Hall and shutting it behind him as he removed his wand from the holster on his thigh.

If he got lucky, neither one of them would have to.

Only that wretched little brat, Harry Hartford.

—

A strange sort of anxiety had settled over the school the next evening, as the announcement of the Triwizard Champions drew nearer and nearer.

As it was a Saturday, there were no classes, and most of the students had spent the day milling about, chatting with the students from the other schools and just generally trying to be welcoming.

Harry and his friends had given Krum- who insisted that they all call him Viktor- a tour of the school, showing him many of the hidden alcoves he could duck into when he was being followed by the gaggle of girls who seemed to try and tail him everywhere he went.

He was exceptionally grateful for that, and none of them missed the way his gaze lingered on Draco whenever they all laughed.

Every time it happened, Daphne would turn to Harry and waggle her eyebrows at him, which nearly sent him into a fit of giggles every single time.

But, after a genuinely peaceful day, the sun began to set, and the time for the selection drew nearer and nearer.

The whole school had, once again, filed into the Great Hall, alongside their new foreign friends, and took their seats for the Halloween feast.

Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Harry wasn’t as hungry for the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have been normally.

Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether McGonagall had finished eating yet, Harry simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state.

There was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as the Headmistress got to her feet. On either side of her, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone.

Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students, while Mr. Crouch looked entirely uninterested, almost bored.

“The goblet is almost ready to make its decision.” McGonagall nodded. “I believe that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber-” She indicated the door behind the staff table. “-where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

She took out her wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it. All of the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a low light.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright light of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

Everyone watched.

Waiting.

The flames suddenly turned to a brilliant scarlet and shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out and into Headmistress McGonagall’s hand.

“The Durmstrang champion is… Viktor Krum!” She called out, and cheers erupted around the Hall.

Viktor nodded, sharing a quick smile with his new friends at the Slytherin table, before he stood, headed up to the table, veered a sharp right, and disappeared into the door to the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” Karkaroff shouted, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you! T

he clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

The blonde girl that Harry had met at the World Cup rose, and she, too, disappeared into the chamber, her departure trailed with the sobs of some of the other Beauxbatons students, and the wild applause from the rest of the school.

And then, the Hogwarts Champion.

When Cedric Diggory’s name erupted from the Goblet, the cheers that filled the air were so loud it was impossible to even hear his own thoughts, and once the boy had disappeared as well, McGonagall spread her arms wide.

“Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-” She said, before she faltered.

The Goblet’s flames had turned red once again.

And Harry’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, fuck…” Theo whispered, his hand shooting out to grab onto his boyfriend’s robes.

None of them could breathe.

No, nononono.

This couldn’t be happening.

One year.

One fucking year is all he wanted.

One fucking year-

McGonagall caught the parchment, her eyes scanning the writing before they went wide, her mouth falling open for a moment before she spoke again.

“...Harry Hartford.”

Harry went rigid, his chest tightening as all of the air was punched straight from his lungs.

And he didn’t know what to say, or do, or even think.

It took a moment for his mind to reconnect with his body, and once it did, he slowly swung his feet over the bench, turning to Theo and leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He said nothing as he pulled away, standing up straight and holding his head as high as he could as he began to walk up to the head table.

It felt like an immensely long walk, and the top table didn’t seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight.

There was a strange buzzing in Harry’s ears, like a swarm of bees had gathered around his head, and his vision kept going in and out.

Distantly, he was aware that he wasn’t breathing. His lungs hadn’t inflated, and he was probably going to pass out if he didn’t take air in soon.

Harry forced himself to suck in a breath as he began to head down to the chamber, avoiding the eyes of everyone around him, and even though the pain that had begun to ebb through his body had disappeared, his vision stayed… Wrong.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor, Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames.

Fleur turned to look at him when he entered, her silvery-blonde hair flying off of her shoulder as she did.

“What is it?” She asked, tilting her head. “Do they want us back in the Hall?”

“Harry?” Viktor asked, his eyes wide as he scanned the younger boy. “What is wrong?”

“I… Ah…” He tried to reply, but the longer he looked at them, the more his mind scrambled.

He was panicking.

Or was he dissociating?

What was the difference, again? Hermione had read him a book on muggle psychology over the summer…

All he knew is that his body was no longer his, and his mind wasn’t either.

He wasn’t anything, and he wasn’t anyone.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room, taking Harry by the arm and all but dragging him forward. His feet caught beneath him and he nearly tripped, only being held up by Bagman’s other hand grabbing him and yanking him back up.

“Extraordinary!” He muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm painfully. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… Lady.” He added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. “May I introduce, incredible though it may seem, the fourth Triwizard champion?”

Oh god, Harry was going to puke.

His mind shut down, then, and he stopped…

Well, he stopped.

Hearing another person verbalize exactly what had just happened made it all too real, and he just…

He couldn’t.

The sounds of other footsteps entering the room made him lift his head, but he didn’t process any of it.

McGonagall was asking him questions.

Snape was arguing in his defense.

Karkaroff and Madam Maxine were arguing back, their voices hushed and fierce.

Moody was there too, his gruff voice insulting and harsh.

And Harry?

Harry felt like he was stuck in a bowl of orange jello.

Or maybe drowning.

Oh, no, he just wasn’t breathing again.

He coughed, his consciousness suddenly slamming back into his body and causing him to stumble back, ripping his arm away from Bagman with a horrible, raspy shriek.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Harry all but slammed himself into the wall, covering his face as he sank down, his shoulders shaking so hard they hurt, tears spilling down his cheeks as the truth of the matter really settled in.

Someone had put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Someone was trying to kill him.

Oh, god.

“I didn’t. I swear to god I didn’t enter myself into this fucking tournament.” He snapped. “I didn’t ask anyone to do it for me. I didn’t do any of it. I don’t want this. I don’t-”

“Mr. Hartford.” Mr. Crouch’s haughty voice reached his ears. The tone he took made it obvious that he wasn’t in the mood for Harry’s hysterics, nor was he in the mood to provide any sympathy. “We understand that this was not your doing, but the Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract. You must compete, or else-”

“Or else what?! I die? I lose my magic?! I know how these fucking contracts work, and I shouldn’t be a part of this! I didn’t put my name in that fucking Goblet!”

“Mr. Hartford-”

“SHUT UP YOU STUPID OLD FUCK.”

“Harry.” Snape scolded, looking at him with wide eyes. The sound of his Head of House’s voice calming him down exponentially. He knelt down by Harry’s side, his tone softening further. “Take a deep breath, now… You’re losing your cool. Your eyes are starting to glow.”

They were?

Shit.

Harry took a slow, shaky breath, nodding a bit as he tried to calm himself down.

He looked up again as Mr. Crouch began to explain the first task.

A task to test their daring, taking place on November Twenty-Fourth, and they weren’t allowed to get help from any of their teachers to complete the tasks.

Great. Absolutely great.

He loved this.

Snape slowly helped him up to his feet, one hand on his back to brace him, and Harry turned towards Crouch and Bagman, his eyes narrowed.

“...I’d expect a visit from the Contessa Zabini tomorrow morning.” He said quietly, causing both men to go completely rigid. “...She’s not going to be pleased.”

He let himself be led away by Snape, after that, the man’s cloak wrapped around him protectively as they walked out into the now silent and empty Great Hall.

They didn’t say a word as they returned to the dungeons, but the professor’s grip on his shoulder was a comforting distraction from the utter terror he felt in his body.

When they returned to the common room, Snape was only just able to get out of the way before he was tackled, his feet getting taken off the ground as Theo wrapped him up in his arms, murmuring incomprehensible nonsense in half-English, half-Bulgarian.

And as Harry looked up at the rest of his housemates, the sight of their concerned, terrified faces made his heart clench.

His hands came up to grip Theo’s shirt, and before he could stop himself, he broke down in sobs.

He was safe, here.

He could cry, here.

Because he was so, so fucking scared.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Chapter Text

After a few mugs of hot cocoa, a lot of tears, and a general sense of dread that had only just barely started to go away, they were finally able to get Harry safely into bed.

His tear-stained, flushed face resting in Theo’s lap as he gently ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, soothing him as much as he could while also making as little noise as possible.

Though, with how hard his love had been crying, not even an Erumpent could wake him.

Or the two cats that were curled up next to him, purring like they were trying to gently vibrate the sadness out of him in his sleep.

And Luna?

Luna felt paralyzed by what she was going to have to do, sitting firmly on Blaise’s bed as he furiously wrote out a letter, her knees pulled up to her chest as she hugged herself for dear life.

“...Someone entered him into the tournament.” Neville said quietly, his hands shaking. “Someone did this to him. This is a blatant attempt on his life.”

“I know.” Theo replied softly.

“Do you think it was Moody? I mean, it’s always the Defense professors-”

“It probably was.”

Hermione looked over at them, gnawing on her lip. “...I know you guys explained everything about the whole… Evil defense professor thing to me over the summer, but… I mean, yeah, I don’t like Moody either, but-”

“He’s not Moody.” Luna looked up at them, wrapping her arms just a little bit tighter around her legs. “He’s not.”

There was a terse silence as they all stared at her, unsure of what she meant by that.

Blaise, who was penning a frantic letter to his mother, lifted his head.

“...Lue.”

“Mhm?”

“...Who is he, then?”

“Barty Crouch Jr.”

Another silence, before Daphne let out a low groan, standing up and rubbing her face.

“And you know this how..?” She asked her friend.

“Because I confronted him.” Luna explained. “I told him that if he messed with any of you again, or if he put Harry’s life in danger, that I would kill him.”

“Luna!” Hermione scolded, her eyes wide and terrified. “You can’t just- threaten a professor!”

“But he’s not a professor. Also, it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. He’s going to die.”

“...She’s got you there, Hermione.” Theo shrugged, looking at his friends, a small, shaky breath escaping him. “...We need a plan. Even if that isn’t Moody, that’s still a known Death Eater.”

“I’m still writing to Mamma.” Blaise added. “She can be here by morning if I send this through the fireplace.”

“He needs to die for what he did, though. As much as I love your mother, Blaise, she can’t…” He trailed off for a moment, his gaze landing on Neville, whose face had gone deathly white.

The other boy was staring at his clenched fists, which were trembling like leaves from sheer force. Thin lines of blood were slipping through his fingers from how hard he had dug his nails into his palms.

Then, he stood up.

“We don’t need a plan, Theo.” Neville said, grabbing his wand. “What we need, is a dead Barty Crouch Jr. For this, and a thousand other reasons.”

“Nev-”

“Don’t, Theo.” Luna shook her head, standing up carefully and walking over to Harry’s bag, reaching into it and grabbing the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder’s Map. “Blaise, you get that letter to Mrs. Zabini. Draco, make sure your parents find out what happened. Neville and I can go and take care of this.”

“You’re going to go alone?” Hermione stammered, jumping up with a panicked expression. “No! You can’t! We can- We can go to McGonagall about this-”

“Hermione, I love you dearly, and I say this with all of that love in my being.” Neville said, gesturing vaguely to her. “McGonagall has let us down before. Multiple times, actually, so at this point? We just handle things on our own.”

“I-...”

“And this isn’t… This isn’t a slight complaint against a professor. This isn’t unprofessional conduct. This is a man, who’s literally trying to get our friend killed. This is one of the people who tortured my parents, for Merlin’s sake! We might not be able to get Harry out of the Tournament, but we can at least take care of that.”

Luna nodded emphatically, resting a hand on Neville’s arm. “...Harry’s done worse for us. Without any hesitation. Why wouldn’t we do the same for him?”

It took a moment, but Hermione groaned, rubbing her face.

“...I really can’t talk you out of this, can I?” She asked softly.

“Not at all.”

“Ohhh this goes against every single one of my morals.” Hermione whispered, starting to pace back and forth. “Every last one of them.”

“Then stay here. Help Theo babysit Harry, make sure Draco and Blaise’s letters are sent, and we’ll go take care of Crouch.” Daphne said simply, standing up and grabbing a hairpin, whipping her hair up into a bun without any hesitation. She handed one to Luna, who did much the same. “And if anyone asks where we are, you tell them you don’t know.”

“And, once it’s done? Don’t say a word. We didn’t do this. It was… A freak accident, you know?”

Hermione stared at them, but nodded slowly. “...Okay.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Luna smiled, walking over to the other girl and hugging her tightly. “...I know you don’t like this, but…”

“Yeah, yeah… You think it’s necessary.” She muttered, hugging back. “I don’t… I don’t like it though. I’m terrible at lying.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t be gone long.”

Luna pulled away carefully, handing Neville the invisibility cloak and activating the map. The three of them said a few quick ‘goodbye’s, carefully slipping out of the dorm room into the, thankfully, empty common room.

They were about to slip out the door, when footsteps padded up behind them. She turned to look, her eyes widening a bit when she realized that Hermione had followed them down.

After another moment of deliberation, she sighed, handing Luna a sheathed hunting knife.

“I don’t know if you’ll need this, or… Or if you’ll even have a use for it, but…” Hermione trailed off. “I would feel like a terrible friend if I didn’t give it to you.”

“...Thank you, Hermione.” She whispered, standing on her toes and kissing her friend’s cheek. “Go back to the dorm room, okay? We’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, turning on her heel and heading back up the short staircase, while Luna, Neville, and Daphne carefully left the common room, maneuvering the invisibility cloak over all three of them, and checking the Marauder’s Map to see where Barty actually was.

She smiled a bit, spotting him as he made his way through the empty corridor up towards the Astronomy Tower.

Professor Sinistra was down near the Great Hall with Snape, and none of the prefects were nearby either.

It was perfect.

“Astronomy Tower.” She whispered. “He’s alone, but we need to be careful.”

“Got it.” Neville whispered back.

They scrunched together more, carefully moving as one unit up the stairs, through the corridors, and past the many sleeping paintings on their way up to the tower.

Luna kept Hermione’s knife clutched in her sweater, ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

But, she hoped that she desperately wouldn’t have to.

As they climbed the final set of stairs, the familiar form of Barty came into view, standing on the balcony and staring out at the stars.

They didn’t bother with the cloak after that, handing it, and the map, to Daphne so she could escape with them if needed.

“...Hello, Luna.” Barty said softly, turning to look at them. “Have you and your friends come to kill me?”

“You broke your promise.” Luna shrugged. “And I swore that I would.”

“That you did… You may be a Lovegood, but Merlin… You’re every bit a Rosier as your mother.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Every last bit… Keeping promises to the bitter end. And you, Longbottom… Come to kill me for what I did to your Mummy and Daddy, hm?”

Neville bristled beside her, his bloodied hand clenching the wood of his wand even tighter.

He was being taunted, but Luna let her mind drift as she felt the familiar tugging at the back of it. Flashes of what was going to happen next drifted through her consciousness.

Barty was trying to taunt Neville. Get him to react.

Neville would, but not the way Barty was expecting.

A Killing Curse, filled with such anger that if it had landed, Barty would have toppled over the edge of the balcony.

It missed, but the next one didn’t.

And then he was gone.

Her mind snapped back in, and she gasped, her head whipping towards Neville as he raised his wand, Barty’s words ringing in her ears.

“-weak, just like your Mother!” His voice was gruff, and the laugh that escaped him was maniacal, but Neville?

Neville was deadly calm, even as his eyes flared with hate.

Luna had never seen him like this before, and she would be happy to never see that expression again.

“Avada Kedavra.” He said sharply, a jet of green light shooting from the tip of his wand, illuminating his face as the lightning-like bolt reached out for Barty who, at the last second, threw himself to the side, just barely being missed.

Before any of them could react, Daphne shoved the cloak and map into Luna’s hands, letting out a visceral snarl and rushing around towards Barty, jumping and tackling him back towards the balcony.

And, knocking his prosthetic off in the process.

The wooden, claw footed leg clattered to the ground, and Barty stumbled, trying to keep himself upright as Neville ran forward, casting the curse once again and nailing the man square in the chest.

The last sound that Barty made as he died was a soft, barely audible-

“Oh.”

And then, he fell, his limp body toppling over the balcony railing and plummeting down to the ground below with a solid thunk.

…That was it.

That was all.

All three of them stood there for a moment, frozen as the realization that they had just killed another person dawned on them, before an all too familiar voice came up the stairs.

“Who’s up there?” Professor Sinistra called, sending a rush of panic through them.

Daphne grabbed hold of the prosthetic leg and hucked it off the balcony, taking Neville and Luna’s hands to quickly drag them closer, pulling the cloak over them just as Sinistra’s head popped up out of the stairwell.

She looked around, her wand alight with a Lumos, and carefully came up to the top landing, a frown on her face as she walked past them.

Carefully, ever so carefully, they began to creep back towards the stairs, all but crawling down them as their professor made her way to the balcony.

They were halfway down when they heard exactly what they hoped they wouldn’t.

“Oh fuck!”

And at that, all bets were off.

The three of them took off running, sprinting down the rest of the stairs as they managed to avoid the rapidly awakening paintings, and just barely making it back into the Slytherin Common Room before the panic reached the rest of the professors.

Chests heaving, faces flushed, and minds racing, they all looked at one another, trying to process what, exactly, they had just done.

After a moment, Daphne let out a startled laugh.

“...You two were the only ones who didn’t get involved in Lockhart’s murder…” She said quietly. “At least, not physically. Now Hermione’s the only one of us who never killed someone.”

“Oh Merlin, you’re right.” Neville snickered, rubbing his face as a sigh escaped him. “...I can’t believe I did that, I… I can’t believe it…”

“...I need to sleep for a week, I think. That was terrifying.”

“Maybe two?” Luna added hopefully.

“Yes, maybe two.”

The three of them had to muffle their giggles as they made their way back up to the dorm, where most of their friends had finally started to doze off.

Both Blaise and Draco’s letters had been sent, judging by the fact that the two of them had crawled into bed. Hermione had snuggled up into bed next to Harry, her head resting in Theo’s lap as well, with the cats still curled up between them.

Luna carefully tucked everyone’s belongings back into her bag, a strange weight having settled itself onto her shoulders.

Guilt.

She felt… Guilty.

Even though she knew Barty had deserved what he’d done, there were still so many unanswered questions.

She shook her head, gritting her teeth a bit as she walked over to her friends, gently reaching out and brushing some of Harry’s hair from his face, leaning down and kissing his temple.

“...It’s gonna be okay, Harry.” She whispered. “We’ll take care of you, the same way you take care of us. I promise.”

He shuffled a bit, a soft groan escaping him, and Luna smiled, carefully pulling the blankets up over him, Hermione, and the cats, before she took a quilt from her bed and laid it over Theo’s shoulders.

A man was dead, but the people she loved were all safe, and sleeping peacefully.

And in that moment, that’s all that mattered.

—

It is with great sadness that the Daily Prophet announces the sudden, saddening departure of Auror-Turned-Professor Alastor Moody late last night, on October 31st, at 63 years old.

Known throughout the Ministry, and the DMLE, as an excellent mentor, Auror, and friend, Moody served the force for over four decades, only retiring when he decided that his body could no longer take the strain of his chosen career.

During his decades of service, Moody helped capture a majority of the Dark Wixen and Death Eaters currently imprisoned in Azakaban, and made the world a safer place for it.

The Moody Family, of which he was the last, have been Aurors for centuries, and their contributions to the betterment of our society will have a lasting impact.

Moody’s funeral will be a quiet, private affair, with only his closest friends in attendance.

—

Narcissa set her copy of the Daily Prophet down with a sort of reverential silence after she read that brief obituary, her brows furrowed.

Moody was dead?

How the hell did that happen?

Even during the height of the war, the Dark Lord had sent dozens of Death Eaters after the man, and none of them had been able to take him out.

Not for lack of trying, as most of them did, legitimately, try, but Moody had already been an auror for nearly twenty years at that point.

A person develops many, many skills in that amount of time.

She sighed, shaking her head a bit as she stood up, thanking Teeky for her breakfast, before heading up the stairs to check on her new houseguests.

The night before, after receiving a panicked floo call from Severus, detailing the events of the evening, she’d gone into a state of shock.

After all, it wasn’t every night that one hears that one of the children she cared for had been forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament against his will, and that he had descended into such a severe panic attack over it that he’d threatened two Ministry Officials.

Whether or not she was proud of Harry for that, no one needed to know, but the moment that the floo call had ended, she had sent an owl to Sirius, detailing everything she’d been told.

And he’d come bursting through her floo, covered in soot, sweat, and sand, roughly ten minutes after receiving it, with Remus close behind, noticeably cleaner than his partner, their arrival scaring the pants off of Lucius and making him need to go and sit in the garden for a few minutes to calm down.

From there, the two Blacks had descended into planning mode, figuring out exactly what they needed to do to help Harry.

Which is why Sirius was, currently, holed up in the guest bathroom, hair turned a platinum blonde with a hair dying potion, and shaving the slightly shaggy beard from his face as Remus helped him disguise his other noticeable features.

“How’s it going?” She asked him as she poked her head into the bathroom, the sight of her cousin with blonde hair and tanned skin startling her a bit.

“As well as it can be.” Sirius replied, turning his head this way and that to get a feel for his new look. “I wish I could have gone red, or brown, but platinum blonde is such an opposite… It’ll disguise me better.”

“You look good blonde.” Remus mused softly, carefully dabbing a muggle makeup product onto his partner’s neck, covering up the tattoos and other marks. “You look like you could be Narcissa’s brother.”

“Eh, cousin works better. She would have driven me mad if we were siblings.”

Narcissa chuckles a bit, shaking her head.

“So… What name are you using, again?” She asked him.

It was… Admittedly a strange plan, having Sirius return in disguise so that no one would realize who he actually was and, with any luck, find a way to get him into Hogwarts as an actual fixture.

The fact that he was legally dead made it a bit easier, but there had been a few hiccups that they needed to find a way around.

And, well… The now deceased Professor Moody took out one of the hiccups.

“Erasmus Rosier.” Sirius explained. “Illegitimate half-blooded son of Nathaniel Rosier, and the unknown half-brother of Evan and Pandora Rosier.

“Making you my cousin on the other side, and Luna’s uncle?”

“Yep!”

“...Sirius is that the name you’ve been using in Portugal?”

“It is.” Remus nodded. “We even have all of the documents. Apparently, it’s not hard to have documents forged if you’ve got enough money.”

Sirius turned to her, a grin on his face.

“You can do anything if you have enough money.”

She shook her head, a sharp laugh escaping her as she stepped out of the way, letting the two men leave the bathroom to get dressed in the clothes that Lucius had parted with.

If Sirius was going to do this correctly, he needed to look the part, and that meant he had to be respectable looking.

A long sleeved, black silk button up shirt that he could roll up the sleeves of if he needed two, a maroon vest, black slacks, and a black and maroon robe to go over it all.

It had been years since Narcissa had seen her cousin in anything that wasn’t a prison uniform, leather, or casual, so it was rather nice to see him looking well groomed and put together for once.

Remus grinned, carefully fixing his partner’s tie before leaning in and kissing his forehead, patting him on the shoulders as he turned him around to show him to Narcissa.

“Respectably dapper?” He asked, raising a brow, and she nodded solemnly.

“Oh, Aunt Walburga would be furious to see you wearing red, Sirius.” She said, a small grin forming on her face. “Absolutely furious.”

“Good.” Sirius laughed, his hands on his hips before he studied her for a moment, his brow raising. “...Did something else happen? You have a look on your face.”

“Pads, what are you talking about?” Remus asked quietly, looking between them. “She looks completely normal.”

“No, her brow is slightly furrowed, and she’s not looking either of us in the eye. She’s done that since we were little. Cissy, what happened?”

“I hate that you know me so well.” Narcissa murmured, a small smile pulling at her lips despite her words. “Our plan has gotten… Well, a bit easier. Moody’s dead.”

They all stared at one another for a moment, before Remus spoke up again.

“...Holy shit? How did he..?”

“No clue. They announced his death in the paper this morning.”

“Damn.”

Sirius, however, simply crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “...That leaves an open position at Hogwarts. That’s good.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “I think we should go now. I know that everyone will still be reeling over Moody’s death, but… That means they won’t see us coming. We might be able to get more answers out of everyone there if we ambush them.”

“Oh, absolutely. Moony, love, are you fine waiting here with Lucius?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.” Remus nodded a bit, looking between the two of them in a mixture of disbelief. “...The two of you are kinda evil sometimes, huh?”

“It’s part of being a Black, Moons. We use every opportunity to our advantage, even the darker ones.”

The werewolf let out a sigh, shaking his head as he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ lips. “Be safe, Pads. Don’t get caught. Narcissa, don’t let him get caught.”

“Trust me, he won’t.” Narcissa smiled, looping her arm with her cousin’s. “We’ll be back soon. I already gave Lucius a goodbye kiss, and he knows we’re leaving. If you get lonely, he’s still out in the garden.”

“Thank you, Narcissa. Really.”

“Of course. Not a problem.”

Sirius hummed a bit, pulling her closer and leading her back down the stairs and into the parlor so they could floo to Severus’ office.

Which, would be their first test to see if Sirius would be recognized.

And Merlin, Narcissa hoped not.

—

“I am going to kill you. And then kill you again.” Harry said, staring at his friends as they sat down by Nestor’s paddock, eating sausage sandwiches and feeding the unicorn some slices of apples and grapes that Hermione had graciously smuggled out of the Great Hall so they could all eat without being stared at by the rest of the school. “What the fuck is wrong with you three?”

Daphne, Luna, and Neville at least had the grace to look away.

“We just… Wanted to make sure that the problem was taken care of. That way you didn’t need to deal with it.” Neville murmured, flinching a bit when Harry beaned him in the head with a grape.

“You could have gotten yourselves killed! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was?!” He snapped back. “Sure, yes, it makes sense why Luna kept the whole Barty thing a secret, but the three of you going and killing him? What if he killed you!?”

“He didn’t, though.” Luna smiled. “And now that problem is taken care of!”

Harry, in response, beaned her with a grape as well.

He wasn’t actually angry with them, no. In fact, he felt relieved knowing that they had taken care of a situation for him, and only told him after the fact so he wouldn’t worry himself sick over them.

It was simply the fact that they had done something so fucking dangerous, so fucking stupid, and went in with zero preparation that upset him.

But, again.

He wasn’t angry.

If he had a name for the emotion in his body, it would probably be a sort of subdued panic, because his fight or flight was going absolutely mad, but he was still too emotionally drained from his panic attack the night before to really process it.

Theo carefully pulled the bundle of grapes from his boyfriend’s hand, giving them to Blaise who, immediately, began to feed them to Nestor with a bright smile on his face. Once Harry’s projectile weapons were removed from his grasp, he wrapped his arms around him, kissing the top of his head with a small smile.

“Everything’s fine now, Harry.” He almost crooned. “So just… Calm down for me, yeah?”

Harry huffed again, but, started to relax, if only because Theo was gently running his knuckles over his arms and that strange sensation was always soothing to him.

They stayed like that for a while, just a quiet sort of peace, despite the fact that he was still simmering with anger.

That is, they stayed like that until they heard Narcissa’s voice call to them from up on the hill.

“Hello, my loves!”

And, the sound of his mother calling him caused Draco to shoot up like someone had stuck him with a pin, launching himself to his feet and running up the hill and into her waiting arms.

The man next to her laughed a bit, taking a step back and holding his hands up, and the rest of the group stumbled up to their feet and rushed over as well, throwing their arms around Narcissa in a massive, tight squeeze.

“Oh, my darlings…” She said softly. “How are you all? Are you okay?”

“We’re okay, Mum.” Draco said softly, his face burrowed in her shoulder.

“And Harry? How are you feeling?”

It took him a moment to find the right words, but…

“I feel like shit, Narcissa. Like… I feel bad.”

And, that made the strange, blonde man with her laugh again, drawing their attention over to him.

“Oh, pup… I can only imagine.” He said softly, and as soon as his voice hit Harry’s ears, his eyes went wide.

He reached out with his magic for a moment, and, when he felt the comforting darkness of the Black family magic reach back, he launched himself out of the group hug and into his godfather’s arms, getting picked up in the process as Sirius squeezed the life out of him, pulling his face to his shoulder and cupping the back of his head.

“Sirius- how are you- why are you here?” He asked, nearly in tears for the second time that morning. “I thought that you were in hiding-”

“Hiding is far less important than you, Harry.” Sirius whispered fiercely, kissing the top of his head. “As soon as Cissy told me that you had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament, I went straight to Malfoy Manor.”

Harry chuckled a bit, pulling away just enough to get a look at his godfather.

“...You look ridiculous.” He grinned. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, brat.”

He carefully set his godson down, letting him take a step back and rejoin his friends.

Sirius sighed happily, resting his hands on his hips as he turned to Luna, who had a knowing smile on her face.

“Hello, Uncle Erasmus.” She giggled, hugging him as well. He gave her a quick squeeze, nodding a bit.

“Atta girl…” He paused, looking up at everyone. “Which, reminds me. As long as we’re alone, you all can call me Sirius, but when we’re around other people? My name is Erasmus Rosier. Although, you’ll probably just be using my surname.”

Hermione raised a brow at that, a frown on her face. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, is… After the very, very tragic and sudden death of your dear Professor Moody-” They all shared a look at that, one that Sirius either didn’t notice or just, didn’t acknowledge. “-Headmistress McGonagall was going to need to find a replacement. I just so happened to come here with my dear, dear maternal cousin, Narcissa, who was here to speak with Crouch and Bagman about the fact that her ward was entered into the Triwizard Tournament without his, or her, consent.”

“And, I also just so happened to have a Mastery in Defense, and was hoping to move to Scotland in order to be closer to my cousin and my niece, who I haven’t seen since she was a baby.”

He winked, and Harry lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You’re going to be our new Defense Professor?”

Sirius grinned, dropping down

“Professor Rosier, your service. For both Tournament and Educational needs. And, if necessary, Godfatherly Affection.”

Despite Harry’s panic at the fact that his friends had gone and killed Barty Crouch Jr. without any plan or backup, he couldn’t help but be overjoyed at this new development.

Yes, this was possibly the best outcome of the entire situation.

Chapter Text

Despite the peacefulness of Sunday, which was, in part, due to the fact that Harry’s friends had carefully kept him away from the rest of the student body with the help of the Marauder’s Map and the sheer insanity that they were all dealing with, he knew it wouldn’t last.

And, that Monday, when classes started up again?

He was thrown right back into hell.

While the Slytherins all knew that he hadn’t entered himself into the Tournament, the rest of the school was about as unconvinced as they could be.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on fine enough terms with the Slytherins, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them, and it took only one Herbology lesson to demonstrate this.

It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion’s glory. A feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beat Slytherin in the Dementor Attack Quidditch Match the year before.

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on fairly well after the incidents in second year, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray, though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry’s grip and smacked him hard in the face.

Neville, in defense of his friend, had hexed both of them in the arse, which resulted in the rest of his house refusing to speak to him.

Not that it mattered to him, as he was already sleeping in the Slytherin dorms, but Harry still felt like it was cruel and unusual punishment.

The only reprieve he had was Potions, where Snape was far fiercer than usual when it came to rewarding his snakes and punishing the lions.

Well, all except for Hermione, who was on edge in a rather visceral way after the whole Moody incident, and looked like she was going to rip people’s heads off any time they even looked at Harry.

He was pretty sure he heard more than a few of her housemates murmur ‘mutt’ and ‘beast’ whenever she’d snap at them, which always ended with them getting points docked.

Small victories.

And while the Ravenclaws didn’t outwardly express any hatred towards him, there was still a general sense of dislike, as they obviously thought he was trying to earn more glory for himself.

The only upside to it was that Viktor, his new friend, and the Durmstrang Champion, was firmly on his defense, regularly shooting glares at anyone he caught giving Harry harsh stares or insulting him.

When he finally got the courage to ask why, the older boy had said, very simply.

“You did not ask for this. Why should you be punished?”

And left it at that.

Harry quite liked Viktor. He thought he was very kind.

But, the constant defenses couldn’t stop the cruelty that was being shouted at him from all sides, and even an idiot could see that the stress was starting to get to him.

It was part of the reason Theo had all but kidnapped him from Ancient Runes when the bell rang, skipping lunch entirely, and dragging him down to the fifth floor corridor to pace back and forth in front of the ballerina troll tapestry for a few minutes.

“Theo, love… What are you doing?” He asked softly, running a hand through his hair as he watched his boyfriend with a raised brow.

“You need a break.” Theo declared simply. “Just, an hour break. Forty-five minutes, so we can still get something to eat before Potions.”

“So you’re dragging me into the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes.”

“And what are we doing in the Room of Requirement?”

His boyfriend didn’t reply, but, once the door appeared in the wall, he grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him into the room, a grin on his face as he looked around.

It wasn’t lavish, it wasn’t fancy, but…

It was their room at Grimmauld Place, down to the very last detail.

Theo gently guided him towards the bed, pulling his bag off of his shoulder and setting it down on the chair next to their bookshelf, removing his own a moment later before he sat down on the plush mattress, beckoning Harry over to him.

With a small sigh, and a smile, he walked over, climbing up into his boyfriend’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips and letting his eyes flutter shut.

They stayed like that for a moment, lips locked in a gentle kiss, Harry’s fingers twining through Theo’s hair, wrapping the soft curls around his fingers and letting them slip through, while his boyfriend slid his hands up his shirt, his own fingers dancing across the skin of his back, sending a small shiver up his spine.

Theo pulled away a bit, slowly kissing down his jaw, then to his neck, and then to his collarbone, occasionally biting down just to make his boyfriend suck in a sharp breath, a shit eating grin on his face every time.

Eventually, he stopped with his sudden, sharp bites, and instead just latched onto Harry’s neck, his teeth running along the soft skin, pausing for a moment at the small, concentrated magic line that ran across his boyfriend’s throat, bringing a hand up to trace along it.

“...It’s so strange…” He murmured. “I can’t feel magic the way you can, but… When I feel this spot… I imagine it’s how you feel, all the time.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked softly, resting his head on top of Theo’s and relaxing. “What do you think I feel..?”

“Overwhelmed. Devastated… Elated… A thousand different contradictory emotions that all just… Jumble together into one…”

“Yeah… That’s a pretty accurate description… What emotion does it jumble into for you..?”

Theo’s teeth grazed against a sensitive part of his neck again.

“Relief.” He whispered. “Because you’re still here. Because I didn’t lose you that night.”

“Theo…” He breathed out, before he was cut off by his boyfriend pulling him down for another kiss.

It was not a time for words, he seemed to say.

And Harry couldn’t help but agree.

—

The smug grin on Theo’s face as they made their way down to Potions, mixed with the green and silver scarf that was firmly wrapped around Harry’s neck, painted a very specific, very clear picture.

One that Blaise, who met them on the way down to the dungeons for class, figured out immediately.

“Harry?” He asked, smiling a bit.

“Yeah?”

“...You good?”

Harry paused for a moment. “...I’m fine. Just… Got bit by a really big mosquito. Many times. So many times.”

“I see… Is the mosquito in the room with us?”

“Quite possibly, he could be.”

He continued to ignore Theo’s smug grin, but, he did notice the second it disappeared.

Mostly because it coincided with their arrival outside of the dungeons, where almost every single Gryffindor in class with them- minus Hermione and Dean- were donning large, multicolored badges.

For the briefest moment, Harry thought that they might be S.P.E.W. badges, and he got excited.

Then, the message that they read flashed, and he felt his stomach drop.

-

-

And then, when they were pressed.

-

-

Harry felt heat rising in his cheeks, an indignant anger filling his chest as the words all flashed around him, and he looked away, tears in his eyes.

Draco, who was standing only a few feet away, was the first to make eye contact with him, and at the sight of his friend’s teary face?

He moved.

Rolling up his sleeves, the blonde boy walked right up to Weasley, who was laughing the hardest about the insulting message, and socked him straight in the jaw, filling the room with a surrounding crack.

And all of the laughter stopped.

“I wouldn’t be laughing so damn hard, Weasel.” Draco spat, his eyes flaring with hate in a way that reminded Harry of Narcissa. “Especially not when your sister’s about to be thrown in Azkaban for being a Junior Death Eater.”

“I’ll break your fucking face if I even see you looking at him again. Remember that.”

Weasley stared at him with wide, appalled eyes, and it was obvious that he was about to reply with something equally nasty, which is when they were stopped by Snape, emerging from the Potions classroom, and gesturing vaguely for everyone to enter.

For a moment, Harry thought that he hadn’t seen the altercation at all, but that was disproven very quickly by the fact that he heard their professor mutter for five points to Slytherin.

For, ‘an excellent right hook.’

Harry sat in his usual seat next to Theo, while Blaise and Draco paired off, with Daphne and Hermione sitting directly behind them as the lesson began.

They were finally going to be testing their antidotes, and he watched with an admittedly high level of sheer excitement as Snape scanned the room, deciding which student had infuriated him enough to get poisoned, and cured with their own potion.

If, they had brewed it correctly.

That is, he was excited, up until there was a sharp knock on the classroom door, and Peregrine stuck his head in.

“Professor Snape, sir.” He said in his low, gruff voice. “I apologize for interrupting, but Harry Hartford’s presence has been requested by Ludo Bagman.”

“Mr. Hartford has another hour of Potions to complete, Mr. Derrick.” Snape drawled, although he was still using the slightly softer voice he used for his snakes. “What does Mr. Bagman require?”

“It’s something for the Tournament. Pictures for the Prophet.”

His professor made eye contact with him, and there was a silent question in his eyes, asking if he wanted to go.

Harry sighed a bit, knowing that if he didn’t go, he would probably get dragged out of class anyways, and he didn’t particularly feel like having Bagman touch him ever again.

“Alright, I’m coming…” He grumbled, pressing a quick kiss to Theo’s lips and grabbing his vial of antidote out of his bag as he pulled it up onto his shoulder, setting it on Snape’s desk as he left.

They walked in silence for a moment, before his teammate turned to look at him.

“How are you doing, kid?” Peregrine asked quietly. “With… Everything.”

“Bad.” He replied honestly, shrugging his shoulders. “But, at this point, it’s par for the course. Harry gets involved in crazy shit, the whole school goes ‘ah! He’s doing it for attention!’, and then our Defense professor dies or something.”

“Happened early this year though, huh?”

“Fucking yeah it did.”

“...Moody was psycho, though, so I’m not even mad.”

“No, yeah, he deserved it.” Harry nodded. “Unforgivables, in the middle of the school day?”

“Nutter.” Peregrine hissed, shaking his head as they reached one of the many empty classrooms. He knocked twice, and the door opened, letting the younger boy make his way inside after nodding his thanks at his friend.

He was in a fairly small classroom, but most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor saw him first, making his way over to him and offering him a small smile, while Fleur and Cedric were engrossed in conversation.

They paused just long enough to acknowledge his presence, before they went back to speaking.

“They want interviews.” Viktor said quietly. “Rita Skeeter. She is… Rather rude. I do not like her.”

His first run in with a Skeeter article had been the actually really kind one that she had written about his parents after their deaths, although all of the ones Harry had read after that infuriated him.

Especially the one she’d written about Theo being disowned.

Which, made him want to throttle her.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

“There you are, Harry!” He laughed, reaching out and patting the boy’s shoulder, faltering for a moment when he was shaken off. “We were- ah- a little worried that you had abandoned us. The Wand Weighing Ceremony will begin in just a moment, then we’ll do pictures and interviews-”

“Wand Weighing?’ Harry asked, raising a brow.

“We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead.” Bagman explained. “The expert’s upstairs now with McGonagall. And then there’s going to be a little photo shoot.”

“This is Rita Skeeter!” He suddenly added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet…”

“Maybe not that small, Ludo.” Skeeter said, her beady, beetle-like eyes on Harry, making him feel like a piece of meat at a butcher’s shop.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles, the thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson, which matched her glasses.

Harry, personally, did not like the look of the colors.

He could hear Narcissa in the back of his mind, calling her outfit and look tacky, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?” She said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. “The youngest champion, you know, to add a bit of color?”

“Certainly! That is- If Harry has no objection?”

“I do object, actually.” He spoke up suddenly, startling both of the adults. He saw Viktor hide a small smirk at that.

“It’s just a quick interview, Harry, nothing to worry about at all…” Skeeter tried to reassure him.

“You can speak with me when we do a group interview. Either that, or Viktor is there with me.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “...I have no respect for you, Skeeter, and I have no qualms about making this a fucking process for everyone involved.”

That seemed to fluster the reporter a bit, and she went quiet, letting Viktor and Harry join up with the other Champions.

Fleur nodding approvingly at him. “Excellent work with the reporter… It is almost like you have dealt with them before.”

“Not particularly, I just hate that woman in particular.” Harry huffed. “She wrote a shitty article about my boyfriend over the summer, and I’m currently resisting the urge to bean her in the head with a desk.”

Cedric looked aghast for a moment. “Hartford, mate, that’s a little extreme…”

“Not for that buggy little bitch.”

Viktor snorted, covering his mouth as he looked away. He was quickly becoming used to Harry and his friend’s strange sense of humor with how much time they spent together, and he found it hysterical.

The door opened once again, and Headmistress McGonagall, flanked by an elderly man that Harry had only seen once before, entered, signaling for the champions to all take a seat.

Fleur sat first, then Cedric, then Viktor, then Harry, and they were all looking over at the velvet covered table where four of the five judges were now sitting — Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman.

Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner, where Harry saw her slip a parchment out of her bag, spread it on her knee, suck the end of her quill, and place it once more on the parchment.

He had a dawning moment of realization that, horribly, he was sitting in the same room as the man whose son his friends had just murdered, and he pointedly looked away from Crouch, a sort of panic settling into his chest.

Yeah, he could go his entire life never seeing that man again, actually.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” Headmistress McGonagall asked, taking her place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Ohh, that’s where he knew that old man from.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” Ollivander asked, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur swept over to the man and handed him her wand.

“Hmmm…” He said, twirling the wand between his long fingers like a baton as it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. “Yes… Nine and a half inches… Inflexible… Rosewood… And containing… Dear me…”

“A Veela hair. Given to me by my Grandmother.” Fleur nodded, a look of pride on her face.

“Yes.” Ollivander nodded, smiling a bit. “Yes, I’ve never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… However, to each his own, and if this suits you…”

He ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps, then he muttered Orchideous, and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order!” He said approvingly, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. “Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” Ollivander grinned, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. “Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… Must have been seventeen hands. Nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… Ash… Pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition…You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night.” The boy replied with a polite smile.

Harry looked down at his own wand, and, despite a few wear and tear marks from being launched around the Forbidden Forest, it was in excellent condition.

Which tracked, as he really only used the damn thing for classes.

Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then spoke again.

“Mr. Krum, if you please.”

Viktor got up and made his way toward Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood with his hands in the pockets of his robes, visibly uncomfortable.

“Hmm.” The wandmaker nodded. “This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… However....”

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

“Yes… Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring?” He shot at Viktor, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees… Quite rigid… Ten and a quarter inches… Avis!”

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good, good… And now that leaves Mr. Hartford.” Ollivander said, handing Viktor back his wand, and Harry stood, making his way over to the old man and holding out his wand, the carved serpent’s eyes staring back at him. “Ah, yes… I remember this wand…”

“Fourteen inches, Acacia wood… Dragon Heartstring…” He said softly, studying the wand curiously. “Such little wear and tear… Yet it has seen the heat of battle more than the other champions… And such darkness…”

Harry bristled a bit, resisting the urge to snatch his wand back.

“...Your wand feels your pain, Mr. Hartford. And you have felt quite a lot of pain, haven’t you?”

“And if I have?”

“Then you’ve created a fierce guardian in this wand… Though I suppose you don’t need it quite as much as the others would…” Ollivander handed the wand back to him. “It won’t cast for me, so you will need to pick your own spell to cast.”

He nodded a bit, twirling his wand in his fingers and closing his eyes, deciding to pick the flashiest spell he could.

A smile pulled at his lips as the memory flooded his mind.

Theo’s lips on his, the sound of waves crashing on the beach below through the open window, and the sweet scent of vanilla and sea salt that permeated the air of Zabini Villa.

“Expecto Patronum.” He whispered, his eyes opening again as his twin crows shot from his wand- Fi and Dee, he’d taken to calling them- and circled the room a few times, before swirling back into his wand.

Ollivander nodded approvingly, a smile on his face. “All of the wands are in perfect working order. Excellent work, everyone.”

“Now that the Weighing of the Wands is out of the way, shall we have some pictures? And some interviews?” Skeeter asked, standing up with a smile on her face. The judges all agreed quietly, and Harry suddenly had an idea.

A terrible, wonderful, awful idea.

With a grin on his face, he unwrapped the scarf from his neck and tucked it into his bag, revealing the mottled hickeys that Theo had left all over him less than an hour before.

There was a soft, appalled gasp from Cedric, and a snort of laughter from Fleur, and he could barely hold back his own grin as every adult in the room looked at him scandalized.

“What? Is there something wrong with my neck?” He asked innocently. “I just figured that I should get rid of anything showing off that I’m a Hogwarts student… I mean, Cedric’s the Hogwarts Champion after all. I’m just along for the ride.”

There was some more spluttering from Headmistress McGonagall, although that was likely more because of the fact that it looked like his neck had been attacked by the giant squid in the lake.

After repeated attempts to get Harry to cover his neck, and around twenty minutes of fighting between himself and the photographer, they finally gave in and let him take the photos.

The photographs took a long time, and he wasn’t even the cause of half of the problems.

Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn’t stand far enough back to get her into the frame. Eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her.

Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl, and Viktor, whom Harry would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, kept trying to hide at the back of the group.

The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence.

Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions before their interviews, which, were their own form of chaos.

She made almost no effort to try and interview the other three champions, focusing all of her attention on Harry, trying to get him to talk about… Well, anything.

But, he had decided to make it like pulling teeth without anesthesia, and eventually, after around half an hour of him making a complete fool of Skeeter, she freed them from her clutches, letting them go down to dinner.

When they made it to the Great Hall, Fleur decided to come and sit with himself, Viktor, and the rest of his friends, a small smile on her face as she took her seat, visibly relieved by the fact that none of them were ogling her.

Once they were settled in, Theo looked over at his neck, his eyebrow raised.

“I thought you were going to hide those?” He asked.

“Oh, I was, but then Skeeter started being a bitch, and I want to see what she’ll say about my very obviously hickey covered neck. Maybe it’ll be something so slanderous that I can sue her.”

Viktor blinked a few times, looking at him in fascination. “...That was your goal?”

“Don’t be surprised by that, Viktor.” Draco sighed affectionately, nursing his bandaged knuckles. “Harry wants to watch the world burn, but only if he’s the one who lights the match.”

And wasn’t that the truest statement anyone had ever said about him?

Chapter Text

Somehow, Harry’s scandalous appearance during the Champions interview didn’t even make the front page after the story was run. No, that honor went to an article that both didn’t surprise him in the slightest, but that also, was rather disturbing.

Ginny Weasley had, actually, been sent to Azkaban.

Seven years, for ‘inciting terrorism’.

And he was on a mission.

With the Marauder’s Map in hand, and a singular goal in mind, he made his way through the halls of Hogwarts, tracking down the two names he was dead set on finding before anyone else did.

And, after a few minutes, he spotted them down in the Quidditch Pitch, and headed there without a second thought.

Fred and George had, obviously, already received the news, and instead of putting up with any of the whispers or stares of horror, had decided to skip class entirely and bat a ball back and forth while on their brooms. Not that Harry blamed them, at all, because he was doing much of the same whenever possible.

Not, batting a ball, but avoiding everyone like the plague.

When George spotted him, he held a hand up to his brother, signaling for their game to stop for a moment, and he quickly descended.

“Hey, Hartford.” He said quietly, Fred not far behind. “What do you need?”

“I wanted to make sure you guys were okay.” Harry replied honestly, tucking the map back into his pocket. “And ask if you needed anything.”

“We’re… Fine.” Fred answered after a moment, though the tone of his voice was anything but. “Thanks for checking in.”

“...Do you guys wanna talk about it?”

“Yes.” George answered earnestly, while his brother replied with a sharp-

“No.”

The twins stared at each other for a moment, having a silent, angry conversation that George seemed to win, and he turned back towards Harry, sighing a bit while rubbing his face.

“It’s just, it’s really surreal.” He said quietly, taking a seat on the green grass of the pitch. The other two boys sat as well, in a sort of triangle formation. “...I mean, on one hand… All of the evidence is there. It was her wand that cast it. She was right underneath it. All signs point to her having cast the Dark Mark into the sky, and yet…”

“It’s impossible.” Fred insisted. “Ginny isn’t a Death Eater.”

“But she hasn’t been right since she started Hogwarts, Freddie. You know that.”

“Of course I know that! But that doesn’t mean that she did it!”

“And I’m not saying that she did. I just… All signs point to her, but in the depths of my being, I don’t think it was. She’s our baby sister. She’s the baby of the family, the only girl… How could something like that have happened without us knowing?”

“People slip through the cracks all the time.” Harry said softly, causing them both to turn and look at him. “You never know when, or why, it’s just… Suddenly, someday, they’re different.”

“What do you think then, Hartford?” Fred asked, his voice significantly softer now. “Just… Any ideas on your end..?”

“I think… I think Ginny went through hell in her first year.” He answered after a moment. “And… I think it’s also entirely possible that she found solace in the Dark Arts. Before you come for me, I… I get where she’s coming from. I mean, shit, after the last few years I had, do you think I haven’t considered going nuts?”

George nodded a bit. “I mean, yeah…”

“Going through that sort of stuff when you’re young fucks you up. I mean… Shit, I have an appointment with a goblin mind healer in December, because she wants to see what makes my brain tick the way it does.”

“Merlin, a goblin mind healer? Going in to see those is really rare, Hartford…” Fred said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you going?”

Harry stared at him for a moment, raising a brow.

“Oh my god, Fred. You can’t just ask someone why they’re going to a mind healer!” George scolded, swatting his brother in the back of the head and making him yelp, which then turned into a swat fight that Harry quickly backed away from, watching with increasing levels of delight as laughter bubbled up from the twins.

And he began to laugh as well, as the mental image of Crookshanks and Espresso swatting at each other formed in his mind, and now he couldn’t stop picturing the two of them as very large orange cats.

It took a moment for them all to calm down, breathing heavily as they returned to their seats upon the grass, tears in their eyes and their faces aching from smiling so hard.

“Merlin… Sorry, Hartford.” Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “That was rude.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Seriously. Stupid question, but, it’s totally fine.”

“Still…”

A brief silence encompassed the three of them, before George turned to Harry, a frown on his face.

“Have you figured out what the first task is going to be, mate?” He asked quietly. “It’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the, ah… The twenty-fourth.” Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. That made both of the twins pause, looking at each other once again.

“...Didn’t Charlie say in that letter that he would be back on the twenty-second?” George almost hissed.

“He did, yeah… Said that he had to deal with nesting mothers…” Fred’s eyes widened a bit. “Because it’s breeding season for dragons…”

That made Harry go rigid.

…Nesting dragon mothers?

Oh.

Oh no.

From what his friends knew about the Tournament, that was the exact sort of thing that would be a task.

“I’m, so sorry. I have to go.” He quickly said, staggering up to his feet in a panic. “Listen, I won’t tell anyone you’re out here, just-”

“We won’t get caught. Go.” George nodded firmly, and after another nod of acknowledgement, Harry took off back towards the castle.

He knew that everyone was still in the Great Hall for breakfast, so he didn’t even hesitate to run straight into the room, booking it over to the Slytherin table, where, thankfully, the other three champions had gathered around as well.

Cedric and Fleur were having an intense looking conversation, while Viktor was engrossed in listening to Draco, who seemed to be explaining something from one of the muggle medical textbooks that Narcissa had purchased for him.

When he reached them, Harry skidded to a halt, catching himself on Theo’s shoulder to keep himself from completely biting it. Blaise’s hand shot out to balance him as well, and all of his friends stared at him in a mixture of confusion and concern.

It took him a second to catch his breath, but once he did, he spoke in a panic.

“The First Task.” He gasped. “I think it’s dragons. Nesting mothers. I-i think we’ll have to steal an egg.”

And the way the entire group paled told him exactly how badly this was going to go.

—

The Room of Requirement was really, truly, a beautiful thing.

It could transform into whatever a person needed, as long as they knew what they needed, and could even produce any and everything someone could need- except for food and water, but, that was an easily fixable problem.

And, that wonderful transforming ability was incredibly helpful when needing to accommodate twelve panicking wixen who just learned that there were going to be nesting mother dragons on campus for their first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Daphne, ever the expert on magical beasts, had taken full charge of the research and planning of their strategies, even going so far as to make up a poster board with all ten common breeds of dragons, as well as the identifying features of each one.

To say that they were all terrified was an understatement.

“Okay, so we can easily cut out Hebridean Blacks as part of the lineup.” Daphne said quietly, marking off the large, obsidian colored reptile on her board. “It’s not their breeding season, and either way, that would be a death sentence for any one of you. I don’t think they’re actually attempting to kill you.”

“Good to know.” Cedric said softly, pacing back and forth behind them, his skin a sickly pale.

“I doubt it would be a Norwegian Ridgeback, either.” Draco chimed in. “They’re so rare, and females breed only once every seven years. They wouldn’t risk damaging any eggs like that.”

Another dragon crossed off.

“The Common Welsh Green may end up in the tournament.” Fleur said softly. “They are in season now, and it would not be difficult to catch one, especially if they are from a preserve.”

Daphne made a large, red circle around the Welsh Green, and Harry kept his eyes on one dragon in particular.

The Hungarian Horntail.

That fucking thing looked like a demon that crawled out of hell.

He had never believed in a god, and likely never would, but… He’d be praying if he had to fight that thing.

After another few minutes of debate, Antipodean Opaleyes were crossed off, due to the fact that they were far less aggressive, and very, very loyal to those they trusted, as well as Peruvian Vipertooths, as they were kept, very securely, in Peru.

Viktor spoke up, then.

“Ukranian Ironbellies are under protection right now.” He said quietly. “They would not allow a nesting mother out of their sight.”

And Daphne nodded, crossing them off as well.

That left Swedish Short-Snouts, Romanian Longhorns, Chinese Fireballs, and the dreaded Hungarian Horntails.

None of which Harry wanted to see.

“Okay… Now that we have these five to look at.” Blaise added in, gesturing to the four dragons that were now circled, as well as the Welsh Green. “We can start to figure out a plan.”

“How are we supposed to come up with a plan that can work for any of those five?” Harry asked softly. “I highly doubt we’ll get to pick the dragon that we have to steal an egg from.”

“That’s why it’s going to be a general plan, that way we can alter it as we go.” Draco corrected, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he studied the board. “...Their eyes are their weakest points, so a Conjunctivitis Curse would be the best option, but they’re also damn hard to hit.”

Hermione looked up, then, frowning. “How likely is it that you could distract a dragon, run in, and grab the egg?”

“Not very.” Neville shook his head. “They’re going to be terrified. They’ll go absolutely mental if you get even slightly too close to the nest…”

Theo, who was sitting behind Harry, his boyfriend’s back pulled up against his chest as they leaned up against a mound of pillows, frowned.

“...Do dragons speak Parseltongue?”

And that was certainly something that none of them had considered, judging from the way they all went silent.

“Parseltongue is derived from the original language that Dragons speak.” Blaise said, looking over at them. When he got a confused look back, he sighed. “Draconic, I mean. It would basically be like me trying to speak to an ancient Roman. We could probably get the gist of what we were trying to say, but certain things would be lost due to linguistic changes over the centuries.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“Mamma has had to work with dragon wranglers before, and many Parselmouths become dragon wranglers.”

“Oh, baby, that’s a fun career path you could go down…” Theo mused, causing Harry to snort.

“Hell no.” He said softly. “But… I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Parseltongue, I mean.”

“That’s right! I forgot that you’re a Parselmouth!” Cedric gasped.

“I’m probably a little rusty, I haven’t spoken it in over a year…” Harry muttered, sitting up a bit and rolling his neck a bit, cracking the bones to loosen himself up.

It took a moment for his tongue to form the words, and, for a brief flash, he was suddenly afraid that he had lost his ability to speak Parseltongue.

Then, he felt a warm pulse from the Slytherin ring, always disguised on his finger, and it flowed like he had never stopped speaking it.

“There we go… Much better…” He hissed softly, turning to the rest of the group. “I sssuppossse thisss will have to be Plan A… But we ssshould ssstill have a Plan B…”

When he turned to look at Theo, a bright smile on his face, he saw a very familiar expression across his boyfriend’s.

One that he himself had made many, many times.

Red faced, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Completely, and utterly, smitten.

“Oh jesus…” Hermione muttered, stifling a giggle as she looked between them. “Seems like Theo now understands Harry’s thing about Bulgarian.”

Daphne sighed, although she also had to stifle her laughter. “...I think that’s a good signal that it’s time to take a break, then… Let’s leave the lovebirds alone, yeah?”

“Gladly.”

Most of the group stood and gathered their things, promising to return the next day to keep working on their plan of attack, and giving a few polite, but giggly, ‘goodbye’s to Harry and Theo.

Cedric looked politely bewildered, like he wasn’t expecting any of this to happen, but wasn’t going to say anything because he wasn’t sure if this was a normal event or not.

Once the last person had left, Theo turned to look at him again.

“...I’ll speak Bulgarian for the next half hour if you only speak Parseltongue.”

And Harry paused for a moment, pretending to consider that, before he replied.

“Deal.”

—

Despite the fact that Harry, the other three champions, and all of his friends had spent the last two weeks lost in almost neurotic levels of planning, experimenting, and practicing tactics to try and survive the dragons they were going to have to face, not a single one of them felt prepared for what had to happen next.

Especially not after Fleur and Viktor, after being told by their respective Headmasters, were able to confirm the dragons they would have to face the night before the actual task was to be held.

A Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout, Welsh Green, and a Hungarian Horntail.

Each one of them was a nesting mother.

Each one of them was in panic mode due to the fact that their eggs were being threatened.

And now, four teenagers had to go in, and steal one of their fucking eggs.

Sirius, in disguise as Professor Rosier, had come down to meet Harry in one of the side corridors as he and the other champions were heading down to prepare for their impending battle, and he pulled his godson into such a tight hug that he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re gonna be okay, Pup.” He reassured the boy as gently as he could. “You’re gonna be fine. Cissy, Lucius, Contessa Zabini, and Remus are all coming to watch, and you know that none of us will let anything happen to you. You know that.”

Harry nodded weakly, his hands clutching his godfather’s robes as he fought back tears.

He’d been able to control his terror, more or less, but now that the day of reckoning had finally come?

It was all he could feel.

“Y-yeah… Nothing bad is gonna happen… Nothing… Fuck…” He whispered, wiping his eyes and shaking a bit. “Fuck, Sirius, I’m so fucking scared…”

“Oh baby, I know. I know…” Sirius crooned, squeezing him even tighter. “Just take a deep breath, okay? You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay…”

He nodded again, pulling away and wiping his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

“...I’m gonna be fine.” He repeated. “I’m gonna be fine.”

“Exactly. You’re gonna be fine. I love you, Harry. I’ll see you down at the Quidditch Pitch, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Sirius smiled a bit, kissing the top of his head before gently ushering him back out to head down to the tent, where the other three champions were waiting.

Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor all looked about five minutes from death, judging by how pale they’d become since the last time he’d seen them, less than fifteen minutes before.

Bagman, however, seemed entirely unconcerned.

“Harry! Good-o!” He said happily, looking over at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!”

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Quidditch uniform, which certainly didn’t help matters.

“Well, now we’re all here, it’s time to fill you in!” Bagman smiled brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag-” He held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them. “-from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different… Er… Varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… Ah, yes . . . Your task is to collect the golden egg!”

“You mean we have to steal an egg from a nesting dragon mother?” Harry asked, staring at him. He already knew what the task would be, but he wanted to watch Bagman flounder for a moment.

And, to his delight, that’s exactly what happened.

The man’s mouth snapped shut, and his eyes bulged from his head comically.

He didn’t say anything, however, so it was obvious that he didn’t know what to do with the fact that the four champions knew what they were facing.

They all stepped away from Bagman, then, and congregated in the back corner of the tent.

Where Draco, who decided that the only thing they needed to worry about was surviving, was waiting with a little gift for the four of them.

Four vials of a deep, red liquid were pushed under the fabric wall, one for each of them.

Flame-Resistance Potion, painstakingly brewed by Hermione and Draco with ingredients that may or may not have been stolen from Snape’s stores and Sprout’s greenhouses. They wouldn’t be able to take a direct, full body hit from a dragon’s flame, but they would be able to survive some nasty burns.

“Good luck, guys.” Draco hissed through the tent. “Harry, Theo says that he loves you, and that if you die, he’s going to kill you. Luna says none of you are going to die, though, so take some comfort in that.”

“That’s fair. Tell him I love him too. And tell her I said thanks.” Harry whispered back, handing everyone their potions. After double checking to make sure that Bagman wasn’t watching, they all tipped the vials back, the acidic, almost ashy tasting liquid burning their throats as it went down.

“That was horrid…” Fleur winced. “But, thank you, Draco.”

“No problem, Fleur. Just remember-”

“No direct hits.” Viktor finished. “Yes, we remember.”

There was an anxious sort of silence, and for a moment, Harry thought Draco had left.

That is, until he came rushing through the entrance of the tent, throwing his arms around his friend in a tight, bone crushing hug.

Harry squeezed him right back, burrowing his face into his friend’s shoulder for a moment.

Draco pulled away a moment later, pulling the other three champions into a hug and wishing them good luck before he scurried his way back out, the sounds of hundreds of pairs of feet passing by the tent and filing into the stadium.

Then, after what felt like a millisecond, Bagman had made his way back over to them, opening the neck of the purple, velvet sack.

“Ladies first.” He said to Fleur, and she nodded, reaching a shaking hand into the bag and grabbing a tiny, perfect model of the Welsh Green, with a tiny two around its neck. It curled around her fingers, letting out a small puff of fire, before settling in.

She didn’t react beyond a glance at the three boys with her, but Harry couldn’t help but feel relieved for her.

Viktor pulled out the Chinese Fireball, this one decorated with a three. He gave a curt nod, tucking the tiny dragon into his breast pocket, and sat down.

That left the Short-Snout, and the Horntail.

And, predictably, Cedric got the Short-Snout, leaving him to go first, while Harry had to face the Horntail.

The last champion of the day, facing, arguably, the most dangerous dragon of the bunch.

Great.

“Well, there you are!” Bagman nodded. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now… Harry… Could I have a quick word? Outside?”

“No. Thanks.” Harry replied. “I need to sit down before I puke.”

That seemed to get the message through, and Bagman backed off, letting him take a seat next to Viktor.

Cedric was standing by the entrance to the stadium, pacing back and forth as he waited to be summoned, while Fleur seemed to be murmuring reassurances to herself in French.

Viktor was trembling.

Harry was too.

Hesitantly, carefully, he reached out and grabbed his friend’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

He squeezed back.

“Good luck, Cedric.” Harry said quietly, looking up at him as the whistle blew. The Hufflepuff gave him a weak smile, before he trotted out into the pitch.

Fleur came and sat down with them, then, and her hand found Harry’s free one, squeezing it with a death grip that showed how truly terrified she was.

It was so much worse than he could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed, yelled, and gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout.

And Bagman’s commentary made everything much, much worse.

Horrible pictures formed in Harry’s mind of Cedric’s burned, broken body the more the man spoke.

And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”

But he didn’t shout out the marks, which made him think that the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd.

“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur was trembling from head to foot, her blue eyes alight with tears, and she turned to give Harry and Viktor a shaky smile.

“Good luck.” They both said to her, watching her as she pulled away, disappearing through the entrance.

And the same process started up again.

Terrified shouts, gasps, and the sounds of fire hitting the ground and scorching it, all punctuated by Bagman’s play for play.

Ten minutes later, the crowd erupted into applause again, and Fleur was done.

Then, it was Viktor, who had managed to steel himself as he squeezed Harry’s hand one more time, heading out to face his dragon, and leaving the youngest champion all alone in the tent.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and reaching up to clutch his parent’s wedding rings, pressing them to his lips as he waited.

The soft, pulsing warmth emanating from the rings did little to soothe his terror, but it at least steadied his heartbeat to the point that he no longer felt like he had been running a marathon.

Five minutes later, Viktor had the egg, and it was his turn.

When the whistle blew, Harry made his way out into the pitch, his eyes closed the entire time.

He could feel the burning, fiery magic of the terrified dragon up ahead, the knowledge that she was just a mother trying to protect her eggs weighing on his mind.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t know why these people were trying to take her babies from her.

She didn’t know.

And Harry refused to terrorize her the way everyone wanted.

When he opened his eyes, it was as though the world had gone technicolor.

There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands, all of them screaming and cheering.

And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her yellow eyes locked upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

She was a mother, and she was afraid.

Harry could understand that.

He was afraid too.

He held his wand down at his side, his eyes averted from the Horntail as he walked, slowly.

She snarled, her tail thrashing and gouging the ground again, but he refused to flinch.

Carefully, ever so carefully, he climbed up onto the tallest rock in the pitch, and he slowly lifted his wand, pressing it to his throat and whispering a Sonorus, the way he’d seen so many others do.

And then, with the soft, green magic of the Slytherin ring digging into his flesh, he spoke.

“Dragon Mother…” Harry finally hissed, making eye contact with her for the first time. “I do not come to harm you… Nor do I come to harm your eggsss…”

The Horntail’s thrashing stopped, and her head tilted to the side, her anger lessening just enough for her hissing to become legible once again, even over the slowly dying roar of the audience.

“...You… Ssspeak the Tongue of Sssnakesss… A ssson of ssserpentsss… A dessscendant of my blood…”

“I do… I apologissse for being a part of thisss sssick game… I have no desssire to touch your young, but they have forced me…”

“...They have forced you..?”

“The way they forced you, Dragon Mother.” He insisted, holding his hand out to her. The stands around them were silent, all of them watching as the Horntail slowly crept closer to Harry, their eyes locked together. “...Pleassse… Allow me to end thisss torment for usss both… Your nessst holdsss a falssse egg… I must remove it.”

“Falssse egg..?” She hissed, her voice filling with fury. “They have tampered with my nessst..? My young..?”

“Yesss… But I will remove it… And I will not touch your eggsss…”

“...Free me, when you have removed the falssse egg, Ssspeaker. Free me. Thisss place… Thisss place is no place for my young… It isss too cold for them to hatch… I mussst go home…”

Harry smiled a bit, watching as the Horntail gently pressed her snout against his hand. Instantly, images flashed in his mind.

Soaring over pine trees, the hot, summer sun beating down upon her spine as her wings beat against the air. Feasting upon cattle and whatever else she could sink her claws into, before she returned to her nest to feed her young.

And what beautiful little hatchlings they were.

When she pulled her snout away, Harry returned to his body, and he nodded at her, a simple, silent acknowledgement.

She wanted to go home.

Who was he to keep her from that?

The Horntail stepped away from him, giving him access to her nest, and he carefully slid down the rock again, trotting over to it and looking through the eggs until he spotted the brilliant, golden egg, gently scooping it up into his arms and taking a step back.

And, now he had to keep up his end of the deal.

The chains that held her to the ground were simple to break, a quick flick of the wrist and the collar snapped like a twig. The rush of joy he felt coming off of her, however, made it all the more worth it.

The Horntail, now freed from her prison, scooped her eggs up into her jaw, tucking them protectively under her tongue to give them as much cushion as possible, before she took one final look at Harry.

“Thank you… Friend of Dragonsss… May we never meet again… And if we do… May we fight on the same side…”

And, with that, she spread her massive wings, causing screams of terror to erupt from the crowd, and she took off, her massive body rising into the air, disappearing above the clouds before the dragon tamers could rush onto the scene.

Harry grinned, clutching the golden egg against his chest as he watched the dragon fly away, not caring even the slightest bit at whatever score he got.

All he cared about was that he survived- all of them survived- and that he was able to free at least one of the dragons.

The looks on his Coven’s faces when he found them in the crowd made him feel that much better, too.

Chapter Text

After the first task, the energy of Hogwarts seemed to right itself once again. Harry wasn’t having insults hurled at him every five minutes, there were no more HARTFORD STINKS buttons going around- courtesy of Neville and Blaise, who had gathered them all into a bin and then set the bin on fire- and all of the champions were recovering well from the stress of facing dragons.

They all still needed to figure out the secrets of the egg, but as the second task wasn’t until February, Harry decided to hold off until at least the end of December to figure out what, exactly, that horrid screeching the egg emitted meant.

And, best of all?

Sirius, or Professor Rosier, was very much in the swing of things.

He made Defense fun again, having them do mock duels and play games to help get an understanding of certain techniques and spells, while also making sure they got a proper understanding of what the spells did.

In fact, his classroom, which he had set up in a large circle, was done in order to have a dueling space in the center of the room.

He even went back over the Unforgivables, and did so in a far more appropriate, and less traumatizing way.

“The Unforgivable Curses can, in fact, get you a life sentence in Azkaban.” He had said, his grey eyes glinting in the low light of the classroom. “And they’re nearly impossible to avoid. That doesn’t mean you can’t avoid them, however. We simply need to think creatively.”

“Now, I understand that the late Professor Moody put you under the Imperius Curse, which, I think was foolish, idiotic, and out of line. You’re children, not soldiers, and you shouldn’t be being exposed to the Curses in such a way. Instead, what we’re going to do, is go over theory, and then mock duel. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, sir.” They all chorused, and Sirius nodded, the seriousness in his face giving way to his happy grin once again.

“Excellent. Now… I would love a volunteer, please and thank you. Uh… Miss Greengrass, would you be willing to help me today?”

“Of course, Professor.” Daphne smiled a bit, standing up and adjusting her robes, making her way to the center of the circle, her wand in hand.

“Excellent. Now… What I want you to do, is shoot green sparks at me, and I will demonstrate the different ways with which to block the Killing Curse. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded firmly, flicking her wand and sending a few sparks spraying out of her wand.

Harry chuckled a bit, sitting up so he could watch the mock duel at a better angle, Theo’s hand resting ever so gently on his thigh.

“So!” Sirius called, slowly creeping around the outer edge of the circle, Daphne mirroring his movements to always be directly facing the man. “When dealing with a wix who is going to cast the Killing Curse, what do we need to remember?”

“You can’t block it with a shield charm!” Hermione called.

“Correct! And?”

“It follows a straight, direct path until it hits a target!” Blaise added.

“Yes! Excellent, five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively.” He laughed. “So, when you’re about to be struck with the curse, what are your three options?”

“Block, Counter, and Dodge.” Harry said, raising his hand a bit. “Block with an object, counter with your own spell, or just get out of the way.”

“Another five points for Slytherin. Alright, Miss Greengrass, we’re going to go in order. First, I’m going to Block your sparks, then I’ll Counter, then I’ll Dodge. Yeah? Ready? Go!”

On his signal, Daphne thrust her wand forward, sending a jet of green sparks towards Sirius.

In response, he summoned a large, thick book from his desk, pulling it in front of himself like a shield, and letting it take the full force of the spell.

“The green sparks and the Killing Curse work in much the same way.” Sirius explained. “If something gets in its way, it will strike the object blocking you, and not you. That’s your first method of avoiding the curse.”

“The next, is, of course, Counter! Expelliarmus!”

He thrust his wand forward, and Daphne’s went flying from her hands, straight into his.

“And why is the disarming charm so useful?”

“Because most British wixen don’t know how to do wandless magic.” Blaise snickered. “Nor do they know how to win in a fist fight.”

“Right-o!” Sirius laughed, handing Daphne her wand back and looking around at his class, who were all listening to him with rapt attention. “If you can disarm your opponent, from there, you’re fairly golden. I always recommend a good one-two punch to the nose and jaw, but whatever your fancy is, go with that.”

“And, if you’re in a really sticky situation, and I mean like… Life or death? Break their wand over your knee. Just, break it in half.”

Harry nodded a bit, quickly scribbling that down on his sheet of parchment, humming a bit.

“So the last option is Dodge, professor?” He asked, and Sirius nodded.

“Exactly. Simple, and efficient. Just get the hell out of the way before the spell hits you. The beauty of the Killing Curse is that it, generally, is not a subtle spell. You can’t do it wandlessly, you can’t do it non-verbally, and it does take a lot of effort to cast properly. You have to genuinely, truly, want someone dead to cast the spell.”

The two of them made eye contact at that, and Harry knew exactly what his godfather was thinking of.

When he’d cast the spell with complete and utter ease, killing Peter Pettigrew without a second thought.

And, it was obviously the cause of his next words.

“...And that’s something I have to stress to you.” Sirius said solemnly. “When you cast the Killing Curse, there is no going back. If you strike your opponent, you will kill them. There is no resuscitation from the Killing Curse, there is no healer in the world who can bring a person back after being killed by it, and it is the most permanent thing in the world-”

His serious warning, however, was interrupted by a horrible scream from upstairs, in his office, one that was so loud that it made the entire room jump simultaneously.

Sirius’ head whipped up towards his office, his teeth bared in a canine-like snarl, and he jumped over the desks, rushing up the flight of stairs and into the office as though someone had just broken in, ready to kill them all.

And Harry was on his feet too, magic sparking at his fingertips and his wand in his hand, ready to help his godfather at the first sign of trouble.

But, trouble never occurred.

In fact, what happened instead was another scream filled the air, alongside the sound of many, many locks clicking.

Then, Sirius’s pale face appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Hartford, Mr. Zabini. I need the two of you to escort your classmates to Professor Volkov’s class immediately.” He said firmly. “Tell him there’s been an emergency, and that I need him to watch you all for a few minutes.”

“But Professor-”

“Harry.”

That tone made him go stiff for a moment. There was a sternness to Sirius’ voice that he had never heard before.

A terror that felt unnatural.

“...Yes, sir.”

Blaise was up and out of his seat half a second later, quickly opening the classroom door and ushering everyone out, going to the front of the group to lead them to Volkov’s class.

Harry lingered, however, and looked at his godfather again.

“What happened?” He asked again, and it took the man a moment to find the words.

“...Alastor Moody is alive. He’s in a trunk that was left behind by the other Moody.”

And oh, fuck, wasn’t that a horrifying notion?

—

The news that Alastor Moody was, in fact, alive and mostly well, spread through the Hogwarts Rumor Mill like wildfire, as news of that caliber always did.

It spread so quickly, in fact, that by the time they were all heading down for Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, it was all anyone could talk about, especially since classes weren’t canceled for the day.

No, instead, the team of Aurors decided that only the floor that the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was on needed to be closed off, which meant that around eighty percent of the students had to continue their classes.

The seventh years, upon learning that those classes were canceled, all seemed to let out a sigh of relief and just went back to their dorms.

So, no one was as on top of their game as they should have been.

Especially since they were dealing with the Skrewts again, which were all reaching around six feet in length at this point, and their numbers having dropped to only eleven due to violent murder and cannibalism.

Or, no, actually, ten.

There were ten Skrewts left, because Harry was currently staring at one of them as it ate the freshly deceased body of its brother, because it had just ripped its brother's head off.

These things were evil.

He shuddered a bit, turning back to Hagrid as he began to explain what they would be doing that day, speaking over the gossipping fourth years in a booming voice to make sure they did actually hear him.

“I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not.” Hagrid chuckled a bit, looking out at the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch. “Thought we’d jus’ try an’ see if they fancied a kip… We’ll jus’ settle ’em down in these boxes...”

The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. They actually looked rather comfortable, and if Harry had been a Skrewt, he probably would have been incredibly happy with the hibernation dens that had been put together for them.

In fact, after class, he was going to build his own hibernation den, grab his boyfriend, and go the fuck to sleep.

“We’ll jus’ lead ’em in here, an’ put the lids on, then we’ll see what happens.” Hagrid continued to explain, watching as everyone put on their dragonhide gloves and got ready to wrangle the Skrewts into their dens.

It turned out, however, that Skrewts not only did not hibernate, but they really, really hated being gently shoved into their dens, and protested so violently that the ground, and most of the pumpkins, were now scorched.

Many of their classmates had fled into Hagrid’s hut, but Harry, not wanting to abandon Hagrid to the mercy of the exploding lobsters, stayed outside, carefully restraining and tying up nine of the rampaging Skrewts.

The entire time, Harry could feel a distinct… Buzzing, at the back of his mind.

It was buggy, and annoying as hell, and focusing on it nearly got him impaled by a Skrewt stinger on more than one occasion.

But, he didn’t have time to focus on that, because there was one more Skrewt to catch.

And it was the biggest of the bunch.

“Don’ frighten him, now!” Hagrid shouted as Hermione and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the Skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. “Jus’ try an’ slip the rope ’round his sting, so he won’ hurt any o’ the others!”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that!” Hermione shouted back as she and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid’s cabin, still holding the Skrewt off with their sparks.

“Well, well, well… This does look like fun!”

Rita Skeeter, the Prophet reporter, was leaning on Hagrid’s garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the Skrewt that was cornering Harry and Hermione and flattened it, causing a blast of fire to shoot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

“Who’re you?” He asked Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt’s sting and tightened it.

“Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter.” She replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinting in the sunlight. “I came by because I heard about your spot of drama with discovering a still alive Alastor Moody…”

That, made Harry pause.

They’d only discovered Moody a few hours before, not nearly long enough ago for a press release.

And certainly not long enough for a reporter for the Daily Prophet to come up from London.

The closer she got to the group, the more uncomfortable Harry became, because the awful, buggy buzzing sound was back.

“Thought McGonagall said you weren’ allowed inside the school anymore…” Hagrid murmured, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed Skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

Skeeter acted as though she hadn’t heard him at all.

“What are these fascinating creatures called?” She asked, beaming even more.

“Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of them before… Where do they come from?”

Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid’s wild black beard, and his heart sank.

Where had Hagrid got the Skrewts from?

Daphne, who seemed to be thinking along those exact lines, quickly spoke up.

“They’re very interesting, aren’t they? Aren’t they, Harry?”

“What? Oh, yeah! Skrewts are great!” He said, grinning.

Unfortunately, the moment he spoke up, Skeeter’s predatory, beetle-like gaze fell onto him, and his skin crawled as though a bug was traveling up his leg.

“Ah, you’re here, Harry!” Skeeter smiled as she looked around. “So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?”

“Yes. It is.” He replied firmly, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

“Lovely, really lovely. Been teaching long?” She added to Hagrid.

“This is o’ny me second year.” Hagrid replied.

“Lovely… I don’t suppose you’d like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I’m sure you know. We could feature these- er… Bang-Ended Scoots.”

“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said eagerly. “Er — yeah, why not?”

Harry had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Skeeter seeing, so he had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week.

Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

Neville groaned softly, rubbing his face. “She’s going to twist everything he says…”

“She will.” Theo sighed.

“Hopefully nothing bad comes from it…”

“It probably will.” Hermione replied solemnly, and they all knew they couldn’t dispute that, no matter how hard they tried.

Harry sighed a bit, shaking his head as he leaned against his boyfriend, his eyes falling shut.

And, horribly, that fucking buzzing returned.

“Oh… God dammit.” He hissed, lifting his head again and whipping around, his eyes landing on a large beetle a few feet away.

Without thinking, he yanked his shoe straight off his foot, and chucked it at the beetle, smacking it so hard that the buzzing stopped for a moment, letting him pull his shoe back on and go into the safety of the castle.

“I fucking hate beetles.”

—

The knowledge that the Alastor Moody that the school had been dealing with had actually been an impostor, keeping the original Moody hostage in a multi-locked trunk in his office, had been jarring to say the very least.

The fact that Moody was alive, and only a little starved, was even more jarring.

Auror Tonks, who Severus had had the displeasure of teaching for her entire seven years, had needed to be escorted away by the other Aurors on her team due to the way she descended into a panic upon seeing her old mentor, and had, apparently, been sent home for the day, while Moody was swiftly taken to St. Mungo’s to be treated for malnutrition and dehydration.

The rest of the Aurors, and Minister Bones, had stuck around to discuss what happened with the Hogwarts staff once the students had all gone to bed, and the foreign headmasters, because this revelation had brought up a whole new string of questions.

Who had been the impostor?

And, more importantly, how had he actually died?

Severus sat quietly at his end of the table in the staff room, Aurora on his left, and the new professor, Rosier, on his right. Volkov sat across from him, a cane resting on the table next to him, and his brows furrowed in concern.

Minerva, Madam Maxine, Karkaroff, and Minister Bones were all in a heated discussion, obviously trying to figure out any possible clues, or even motives.

To his surprise, however, Rosier was the one who spoke first.

“...I think Fake-Moody was murdered.” He said quietly, barely above a whisper, and really only to the people immediately next to him. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I mean… The amount of students who complained about him, and who said they were legitimately afraid of him…”

“It’s… A very real possibility.” Aurora replied. “When I found him, I… I could have sworn I heard multiple people up in the tower, but… I honestly thought it was just some of the paintings.”

“The only problem with that theory, Rosier, is that it doesn’t answer the question of who was pretending to be Moody.” Severus chimed in. “Unless you have a theory in that regard?”

“No, but it was obviously someone with a vendetta against the man. My guess is someone who lost a loved one to him back during his Auror days.”

Volkov tilted his head a bit, raising a brow. “Would most of them have been arrested as well, though? In connection to the Death Eaters?”

“No, that’s the one thing the Ministry did right during that time.” Aurora shook her head. “Family members weren’t arrested unless there was proof that they, too, participated in the Death Eater stuff… That’s why Barty Crouch wasn’t arrested, even though his son was imprisoned.”

The Transfiguration professor shuddered.

“Imprisoning his own son… And they both died around the same time, yes? At least, I remember reading an article about his son’s death, but I never saw her name…”

That was… A rather good point, actually. One that Severus had never considered.

He hadn’t seen an obituary for Crouch’s wife either. Nor had she had a funeral.

He frowned deeply, a sigh escaping him.

“So, what, are we believing that Crouch may have been involved somehow?”

Rosier had a pale, drawn expression on his face, and the way his grey eyes stared hard at the table made Severus… Oddly nervous, and for the briefest of moments, he wanted to use Legilimency to see what was happening in his mind.

That train of thought was quickly discouraged, however, as the man rose to his feet, quickly making his way over to Minister Bones, and resting a hand on her shoulder, speaking to her in a hushed, frantic voice.

The Minister’s eyes went wide as saucers, and her own face became pale, looking at Rosier with a look of very real panic for a moment.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Call it a hunch.” He replied quietly. “...If we’re wrong, then we’re wrong, but… It’s suspicious how easily Barty succumbed to the Dementors, isn’t it?”

“...Very suspicious. I’ll go and investigate right away… Thank you, Mr. Rosier, even if this doesn’t answer any questions, it still gives us somewhere to begin before Alastor is well enough to answer our questions.”

“Of course, Minister.” Rosier nodded quickly. “I’m glad we could help. Good luck.”

He quickly hurried back to the rest of the group, sitting back down and nervously bouncing his leg. Aurora leaned in, her eyes narrowed.

“What did you tell her?”

“Exactly what we just said. That it had to be someone with a vendetta against him, and… I may have implied that Crouch was involved. At least a little bit.”

“Erasmus.” Volkov scolded, his eyes wide. “If he’s not, then you implicated an innocent man.”

“And if he is involved?”

Severus froze, his eyes wide for a moment. “...Then that could put his entire career under investigation for corruption. Especially if he was secretly working alongside-”

Before he could continue speaking, however, a sharp, burning sensation flared up his right arm, and he grit his teeth, pressing the limb hard against his chest and closing his eyes tightly as he fought back the noise of pain that threatened to rip from his throat.

He quietly excused himself from the table, standing up and slipping out of the staff room, rolling up the sleeve of his robes to look at the burning mark on his arm.

It was getting darker again, and thin, vein-like lines were starting to extend from it.

That was a bad sign… That meant that He was becoming stronger.

And he knew that Severus had betrayed him.

Karkaroff slipped out of the room only a moment later, his face green and clutching his arm as well.

“Severus-” He gasped. “It’s becoming darker. You see it too, don’t you?”

“Of course I see it you blithering idiot.” He snapped back, a rush of anger rising in his chest as he saw the man.

Although it had been years since the last time he’d seen Karkaroff, the hate he felt for the man still burned in his body. Even if he liked to pretend that he’d rid himself of his Pureblood Supremacist ways, the snide remarks that had been made towards Severus back in the day had been seared into his memory.

Much like every other hateful word that had ever been spat at him, burning themselves into his mind and swirling around within it at his darkest moments.

“It’s been doing this for months. You know what this means? He’s coming back, Severus. He’s coming back, and he’s going to kill us both-”

“Then flee, you buffoon. I’m going to remain here, at Hogwarts, so I can protect my students. You, however, can be however much of a coward as you’d like, and run with your tail between your legs-”

Karkaroff looked as though he wanted to retort, but the sudden arrival of Volkov, limping the slightest bit with his cane, silenced him. The professor’s cold stare seemed to have knocked the last of the wind from the headmaster’s sails, and he scurried away, allowing Volkov to make his way over to Severus.

“Let me see your arm.” He said, and the tone of his voice left no room for argument, so he held his still burning arm out.

Volkov adjusted himself, carefully grabbing Severus’ forearm with one hand and resting the other atop the mark, murmuring a soft spell in Russian. Almost immediately, a cooling sensation came over the mark, soothing the pain and making his shoulders slump.

Once the pain had disappeared entirely, as well as the vein-like markings, the other man fixed his sleeve and let go of his arm, offering him a small smile.

“...You are a brave man, Severus.” He said quietly, starting to walk along, visibly favoring his left leg while bracing his right with the cane. “...You were only a boy when you took that mark, hm?”

Severus walked alongside him, making sure to keep his strides somewhat slow to keep from leaving the man behind.

“Seventeen, yes. Why?”

“Because I can see how much you regret what you have done. Most people regret the actions they took when they were young, but… Then again, most people do not join up with a supremacist group.”

He snorted at that, a smile forcing its way onto his face against his will.

“You have a point there… Yes, I do regret what I did. Every last bit of it.”

“...And that would be why you have been able to fight off the curse for so long…” Volkov murmured, studying him for a moment. “You are punishing yourself just as harshly as the curse would.”

Severus grimaced, nodding a bit. The older man sighed a bit, shaking his head.

“That guilt of yours will be what kills you one day, Severus.” He chided gently. “And it will not be honorable.”

“I have no desire to have an honorable death.”

Volkov pursed his lips, but said nothing more on the matter, which prompted Severus to ask a question that had been on his mind all evening after they walked in an uncomfortable silence.

“...Is the cane new?”

“No, I dislocated my hip earlier today.” The other professor chuckled. “I will be fine by tomorrow, but I just need a bit of help getting around…”

“What- You dislocated your hip? Why aren’t you resting?”

“I have lived with this condition for fifty-three years, I know what my body can take, and I have reached my limit, so I will be going to bed as soon as I reach my quarters.” He laughed harder. “I am simply thankful that I have no classes tomorrow, so I can rest.”

“Merlin’s beard, Volkov…” Severus said quietly, staring at him. “...Do you need, potions or anything?”

“No, no… I am fine, thank you for offering, though.”

“Well… If you do need them, let me know.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“You’re welcome.

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade was always one of Harry’s favorite things about Hogwarts, because that brief little bit of freedom he was able to have from the school, and the watchful eyes of their professors, was absolute heaven.

And, getting to spend the day with his friends was that much better, although this time, it would be a little bit different.

Mostly because Luna, who could finally join them on their Hogsmeade adventures, had come down with an awful migraine that morning, and was currently being compressed by six layers of blankets, with a sleep mask over her eyes, and her hair sprawled out beneath her like a golden halo.

“How you feeling, Lue?” Theo asked softly, kneeling down next to her bed and running a hand over her hair.

“...I think my time has come.” She replied hoarsely. “...This is it. This is how I die.”

“You’re not dying. It’s a migraine.”

“No, this is it… This is how I die.”

Harry chuckled, walking over as well. “Do you want us to get you anything from Honeydukes?”

“...I would like a packet of jelly slugs. And chocolate milk, please and thank you.”

“Can do, lovey.” He smiled, leaning down and kissing her forehead. After a moment, he looked around, picking Crookshanks up off the ground and gently setting him on Luna’s chest, where he immediately began to make biscuits. “There. Healing kitty purrs.”

“Ohh… Thank you, Crookshanks.” Luna cooed softly, carefully prying her arm out of the blanket pile and petting the orange cat, gently scratching under his chin. “Most excellent.”

“Yes, most excellent. We’ll be back later, okay?”

“Be safe, I love you all.”

“We love you too, Lue.” Theo smiled, grabbing his wand and dimming the lights as he wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist, leading him out of the dorm room. The two of them quietly made their way out of the common room, joining up with their friends in the courtyard so they could go down to the village.

Viktor had decided to come down with them that time, as he’d missed the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Draco had promised to show him around the village, and acting as a buffer between him and the rest of the student body. As such, Harry had given them the Invisibility Cloak, in case they needed to disappear quickly.

Neville and Daphne had some sort of vague plan, which mostly involved visiting the plant shops and stopping in Gladrags, because she needed to pick up a few new sets of tights for underneath her uniforms.

Hermione… Had a specific goal in mind, although she hadn’t said anything to anyone but Blaise, and obviously wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it until she was done. He, in solidarity, refused to say a word either, although they both repeatedly reassured their friends that there was nothing bad happening, and that they just needed privacy.

He still didn’t like it, but, he wasn’t going to push it.

“So, what time are we meeting again? And where?” Theo asked, looking over at them. “Just so we know the time limit for how long we’re here?”

“Uh… Is three-thirty good?” Draco asked, looking between anyone. “It’s nine now, so… Six and a half hours?”

Viktor nodded approvingly. “I am fine with that. That is more than enough time.”

“Works for me too.” Harry grinned.

“Alright, three-thirty, and… In front of the Three Broomsticks?” Hermione offered. “That’s where Blaise and I will be coming out of, at least.”

“Yeah, Three Broomsticks. Then we can head back up to the castle and make sure poor Luna hasn’t died of head hurting.”

“Right. Did she ask for anything, by the way?”

“Jelly slugs and chocolate milk. You know, migraine stuff.”

“That’s not nearly as bad as the time you chugged an entire jug of pumpkin juice to get rid of one of yours in first year, Harry. I’m still disturbed by that.” Blaise shivered, shaking his head. “I don’t even know how you did that… You drank it in like, fifteen seconds…”

Viktor looked somewhere between utterly horrified and completely impressed, because, well, that was actually fairly impressive.

When they finally made it down into the village, they quickly reiterated the time they would be meeting, and where they would be meeting- mostly to make sure Viktor knew exactly what was happening- and said their goodbyes. Once Harry and Theo were alone again, they looked at each other, the former pulling out a list on a sheet of parchment and looking down at it.

“Alright… We’ll hit Honeydukes before we leave, but first up… Espresso needs new toys.” He said, grinning at his boyfriend, who lit up at the mention of his kitten.

“Perfect. Let’s go and get my baby some new toys!”

With a sharp laugh, Harry grabbed his hand, letting Theo drag him to the pet store at the edge of the village.

Today was gonna be a great day.

—

“So, where do you want to go first, Viktor?” Draco asked as they walked away from Harry and Theo, looking up at the taller boy with a raised brow. “Honeydukes? Sprintwitches? Dervish and Banges?”

Viktor hummed a bit, looking around and adjusting his cloak, his dark eyes shadowed by his brow. The intense stare made his heart flutter just a little bit, but he took a slow breath to try and steady his pulse a bit.

He refused to go all mushy over his friend right now. They were here for a specific reason, and it was to go out and have fun.

Not so Draco could stare at him.

“...I think I would like to see Honeydukes. Many of the witches in Hogwarts have tried to give me candies from there, but I do not accept food or drink from those I do not know.” He said softly, looking back at the other boy. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah, no problem. Honeydukes is pretty great. Their sugar quills are one of my favorites.”

“Sugar quills?”

“They’re like… Cotton candy? In the shape of a quill?” Draco offered as the two of them headed towards the sweets shop. Viktor’s confusion was still obvious on his face. “Spun sugar? Candy floss? That fluffy sugary stuff kids buy at Quidditch games that melts if it gets wet?”

He could see the lightbulb go off in his friend’s head.

“Ah! Yes! Sorry, I could not remember the word for it…”

“Don’t worry, Viktor. English is hard.”

“Very much so…”

The two of them carefully made their way into the sweets shop, making their way through the aisles and navigating all the different sorts of sweets and treats that lined them.

Viktor, at one point, grabbed one of the small baskets from the front of the shop and began adding whatever Draco mentioned was good, or that he liked, into it, no matter how many times the other boy tried to tell him he didn’t need to buy everything he mentioned.

“Seriously, Viktor. That’s… A lot of money.” He said quietly, causing him to shrug.

“I am a professional Quidditch player. I have money.”

“I know, but should you really be wasting it on sweets?”

“We are spending time together, no? It is worth it.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Draco murmured, a slight flush rising on his cheeks. Viktor grinned at him, the expression slightly crooked, with one side of his face raising a bit higher than the other.

It was, incredibly adorable.

They made their way to the back of the shop, to where the owners kept the stranger sweets, like the blood-flavored lollipops, and the cockroach clusters. Mostly out of curiosity, they decided to pick up a couple of the blood pops, even though they were supposed to be for vampires.

With the basket nearly full, Viktor led the way up to the cashier, and gently pushed Draco’s hand away when he tried to set a few galleons on the counter.

“I pay.” He shook his head. “My treat.”

“I can pay for my own sweets, Krum.” He replied, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.

“I am aware, however? No.”

As the cashier rang them up, Draco continued to try and set galleons on the counter, only for Viktor to rest his palm on the other boy’s forehead and physically push him backwards, keeping him at arm’s length and applying enough pressure to keep him in place, paying with his left hand as he continued to prevent his friend from paying.

The cashier bagged everything for them, and only then did Viktor let his arm drop, the sudden lack of a barrier keeping him from toppling over causing Draco to topple forward.

Although, he didn’t hit the ground.

No, he was yanked right back upright, Viktor’s strong arm pulling him up with ease and wrapping around his waist to keep him up properly, his eyes staring into Draco’s worriedly.

“Are you alright?” He asked, causing a bright blush to rise up on the other boy’s cheeks.

“Uh… Yep. Yeah, I’m good. Yeah.”

“Good… I am sorry. I did not realize you were going to fall like that.”

“I didn’t realize either.” He breathed out, his eyes flickering down to Viktor’s lips before snapping right back up to his eyes, nervously clearing his throat and pulling away, fixing his robes before he gestured for him to follow him. “Come on, we should go before we cause a scene…”

Viktor nodded a bit, following Draco with an odd expression on his face as he balanced the bag on his arm.

The two of them slowly made their way through all of the stores, with Viktor being stopped by a few wix in Sprintwitches and, somehow quietly excusing himself from signing any autographs. After that, they went to Dervish and Banges, where Draco discovered with immense delight that they had a collection of muggle records, as well as a very, very nice looking record player, which he purchased before his friend could even notice that he was eyeing it up.

He threw a few records in as well, just to make sure they had something to play on it. The Weird Sisters, Heart, and David Bowie, mostly.

Then, after they stopped at Steeply and Sons to pick up some drinks- a hot, black coffee for Viktor, and an earl grey with two spoons of honey, a splash of milk, and a bit of vanilla for Draco- the one thing they’d been dreading all day happened.

They’d been spotted by a group of starstruck girls from Hogwarts.

The very same group of girls that followed Viktor around almost everywhere he went.

“Ah. Fuck.” Draco hissed, grabbing his friend’s hand and all but dragging him, full speed, down high street before yanking him into an alleyway, stopping at the very end of it and digging through his bag for the invisibility cloak.

He quickly threw it over the both of them, cursing again when he realized that Viktor was slightly too tall.

That problem, however, was quickly solved when the other boy grabbed hold of him, flipped them around so Draco’s back was pressed up against the wall, and he hunched over just a bit, their foreheads almost pressing together and their breath mingling beneath the fabric.

They stayed like that for a moment, completely silent, until Viktor’s soft, gentle voice reached his ears again.

“...Draco?”

“Hm?” He replied quickly, his head turned away from his friend to keep watch for the stalkers. That is, it was, before his head was gently turned towards him.

“...What was this supposed to be?”

“What do you mean..? We’re hanging out..?”

“I mean… Was this a… Date, or… Did I not understand your intentions..?”

Draco froze.

Oh fuck, Viktor had thought this was a date?

Oh fuck. Viktor had thought this was a date.

“...Did you… Want it to be a date..?” He asked softly, his eyes going as wide as saucers.

“I did.”

They stared at each other for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, and his mind racing.

Viktor Krum had thought they were going on a date. He thought they were going on a date, and he’d said yes.

Viktor fucking said yes to a date with him?

“...I feel so stupid right now.”

The other boy snorted, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Do not… It seems that we both did not read the situation.”

“I-I mean, I would… I would like this to be a date too, if you’re still…” Dammit, he could barely get the words out.

“I would too.” Viktor replied for him. “And… I would also like to kiss you, if you would let me.”

Draco nodded dumbly, all of the thoughts in his mind coming to a screeching halt before he spoke again.

“Please.”

So, Viktor leaned down, gently cupping the other boy’s chin and tilting his head up so, so very softly, and pressed their lips together.

And it was, quite possibly, the best first kiss he could have ever hoped for.

—

Neville whistled happily as he looked through the packets of seeds in his hands, utter delight in his eyes that would be impossible to miss. That kind of joy was reserved for three very specific things.

Spending time with his friends, spending time with his toad, and new plants.

Which, he was doing two of those things, which meant that he was incredibly happy.

“So… How many different poisonous plants did you get, again?” Daphne chuckled a bit, adjusting her sweater as they walked. “I know you got some deathcap starters, and some belladonna, but what else was it?”

“Oleander, Nightshade, and Hemlock. I’m going to have a proper witch’s garden by the time I’m done.” He chuckled a bit, tucking the seed packets into his pocket. “It’s mostly because a lot of Draco and Hermione’s potions need those poisons, and I figured it would be easier if I just grew them myself.”

“That’s fair.” She nodded, before she added. “Are you sure you’re okay with me dragging you around Gladrags and that new little makeup shop? I totally get it if you don’t want to go, I know that sort of thing isn’t really your style, and-”

“Daph. I want to come with you. Even if I’m just holding all your bags.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Absolutely.” Neville smiled. “I like watching you shop, anyways. It’s entertaining.”

She relaxed a bit at that, relief flooding her body.

As much as she did, genuinely, enjoy shopping, she hated doing it alone. She liked hearing other people’s opinions, helping them pick out clothes and outfits for themselves, and picking some things up for herself along the way.

Retail Therapy at its finest.

And, today, she had a very specific list in mind.

Getting a few sets of proper wixen robes for Hermione, picking up some new tights for herself, and maybe a few other odds and ends that she thought her friends would look nice in.

Neville opened the door for her, and she smiled at him, slipping into the shop with him close at her heels. Without any hesitation, Daphne made her way up to the counter, where the portly man who ran the shop was waiting.

“Excuse me, sir?” She said softly, causing him to turn and look at her as she grabbed a sheet of parchment from her pocket. “I was wondering if I could have some custom robes made. I have the measurements written down here.”

She handed it to him, and he quickly looked it over, nodding.

“Absolutely, miss. I take it these robes are not for yourself?”

“No, they’re a gift for a friend.”

“I see… What styles would you like?”

Daphne paused for a moment, before she spoke again. “...Four pairs of more casual wear robes, two with slacks and two with skirts, all in shades of black, grey, white, and powder blue. Then I would also like at least two sets of dress robes, one in periwinkle, and one in black. Light fabrics, if you would.”

The shopkeeper blinked a few times, but nodded. “...Alright. That I can do. Anything else?”

“Everything else I need you already have made. I’ll pay for the costs once I’ve grabbed everything else.”

“Alright, miss. I’ll get started on these robes right away.”

And with that, he disappeared into the back of the shop, and Daphne turned back around to look at Neville, who was staring at her with a bit of awe.

“...You’re so confident when you do that stuff.” He said quietly. “You just… Know what you want.”

“I’ve been having robes made for myself and Astoria for years.” She replied with a soft laugh, forcing down the sudden rush of grief she felt at saying her baby sister’s name. “Once you know the specifics, it’s really easy to get things ordered.”

Neville nodded a bit, a laugh escaping him. “Remind me to bring you with me the next time I have to get robes done…”

“Oh, you don’t even have to ask. I’ll invite myself to the fitting.”

They both erupted into a fit of giggles, then, starting to make their way through the shop. Every few moments, they would grab a piece of clothing, hold it up, and chatter for a moment about it, whether they liked a cut, or if they preferred the color on another style.

He asked her questions whenever he didn’t understand something, like the differences in fabric, or even the different styles that were found throughout the shop.

All the whole, she grabbed anything else she thought she, or her friends, might need.

A new pair of boots for Luna, a pack of fuzzy, knitted socks for Blaise, a fur lined cloak for Theo, and some new gloves for everyone.

She even picked out a silk shirt for Sirius, mostly because she realized the buttons on it were little stars, and she thought that was fucking hilarious.

And the entire time, Neville looked at her in utter amazement.

“...I didn’t even know you liked clothes this much.” He said quietly. “You’ve never really mentioned it before. You always just… Go all in on animals. I mean, you always try and help us dress nicely, but…”

Daphne shrugged a bit, tucking a pair of dragonskin gloves into her basket- for Neville, although she wasn’t gonna tell him that.

“I didn’t want to bug you guys with it.” She said simply. “...And a part of me didn’t want you to think I was lame for being into fashion…”

“What? Why would we think you’re lame? Daphne, you just spent ten minutes explaining to me the difference between Acromantula silk and muggle silk! I can’t think of a single other person who could do that, and make me understand it.”

“It’s not that hard, Nev. Acromantula silk is softer and more durable than muggle silk, which, isn’t even always real silk. They use synthetic materials now, instead of silkworms, which a lot of people can’t decide if they like or not, because of animal cruelty reasons. But, because Acromantulas produce a ton of silk naturally, it’s much easier for us to have surplus-”

She paused for a moment, her eyes widening a bit as she pointed an accusing finger at Neville, who had a grin on his face.

“You just got me monologuing about silk again.”

“Yep.”

“Fucker.” Daphne huffed, continuing to walk around the store. He caught up to her quickly, looking at her with a worried gaze.

“...You know, I know you guys aren’t nearly as interested in Herbology as I am.” Neville said quietly. “You guys don’t really care about the PH levels of soil, or propagating, or even the mixtures I use for fertilizer… At least, you wouldn’t if it wasn’t something I was interested in.”

“And I wouldn’t care much about fashion if I didn’t know it was something you were interested in. So… I want you to talk about it with me whenever you want to, okay?”

She chuckled a bit, raising a brow as they started to head back up to the counter.

“You aren’t gonna get irritated when I spend half an hour yapping about button placement on clothes?”

“Merlin, no. I like the way your eyes shine when you talk about buttons. They’re like emeralds.”

Daphne froze, watching as Neville kept moving, her eyes locked on his back as her mind raced.

He said that so easily… Didn’t even bat an eye before complimenting her.

She quickly shook her head, clearing her throat and hurrying after him, setting her basket up on the counter as the shopkeeper made his way back over, starting to ring them up.

“The custom robes will take a couple more hours, I should be done with them at around two at the latest.” He explained, carefully shrinking and bagging everything they had purchased. “Come back around then to pick them up?”

“Sounds perfect, thank you so much. We’ll see you at two.” Daphne agreed, smiling at him. Before she could grab her bags, Neville slipped them onto his arm, holding his hand out for her to take as they headed back out into the blustery air, quickly leaving High Street and going towards the smaller shops so she could check out the little makeup store that had just opened.

Yet, as they walked, her heart kept pounding, and she couldn’t make direct eye contact with Neville.

He’d always been sweet to her, wanting to protect her from her family, keeping her calm during the most stressful of situations…

But something he said had never made her react like that before.

And she didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

So, she decided to not think about it right now.

Although, the closer they got to the makeup store, the faster another realization hit her.

“Oh, balls.” Daphne hissed, stopping dead in her tracks.

“What happened?” Neville asked.

“I forgot to get tights.”

“...Wasn’t that-?”

“One of the things I went to Gladrags for in the first place? Yeah.”

—

Hermione,

I know your next Hogsmeade weekend is coming up soon, and while I understand if you have no interest in seeing me, I would like to talk with you.

Nothing bad, because, of course, you have done absolutely nothing wrong.

I just have my own penance to pay, and doing so in person is preferable.

If it’s amenable to you, I’ll be in the Three Broomsticks from noon to three, and if you’d prefer to bring a friend with you, I understand entirely.

Hope to see you soon,

R.J. Lupin

-

She ran her fingers over the parchment in her hands for what felt like the thousandth time that week, anxiety coursing through her.

She knew nothing bad would come from this meeting, but the anticipation of it all had her heart pounding in her chest and her head feeling just a bit spinny. Blaise, ever the saint, had gone and ordered them lunch, and was rapidly approaching the table, balancing two plates while Rosmerta followed behind with three bottles of Butterbeer.

He smiled at her as he slid into the booth next to her, handing her a burger with chips, while he, himself, had a Shepherd’s Pie.

“Thank you.” Hermione whispered softly.

“No problem. You need to eat, anyways.” He said gently, passing one of the bottles to her and thanking Rosmerta, who headed back behind her bar. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I feel like I am.” She laughed a bit, taking a bite of her sandwich and sighing in relief.

Rare. The way she liked it now.

A year ago, she would have been disgusted by it, but the little wolfy instincts that lingered in the back of her head won out every single time, and she just couldn’t help herself.

The two of them ate in silence for a while, before the door to the pub opened up again, Remus’ tall form making its way into the room and scanning it for a moment before he spotted them, offering a small wave and heading over.

“Thank you for coming and meeting with me.” He said softly, taking his seat across from them and resting his hands on the table. “It’s good to see you both again.”

“You too, Professor.” They chorused quietly, and he shook his head.

“You don’t need to call me that. I’m not your professor anymore… But, still.” Remus smiled sadly. “...How have you been faring?”

Blaise answered first. “I’ve been well, and I think Hermione has been too.”

“Yeah, I’ve been fine.” She nodded. “Lon Chaney Jr Time isn’t… Well, it’s not pleasant, but it’s getting better with time.”

They had come up with a bunch of nicknames to refer to her werewolf transformations so they could talk about them in public, but the one that stuck had been Harry’s suggestion.

Mostly because he’d joked that Remus was Lon Chaney, which meant that she was, of course, Junior.

She couldn’t deny that fact, and it was honestly hilarious.

Remus seemed to think so too, considering the snort that escaped him.

“Good, good, I’m glad… You’re, ah, on the potion?”

“I am, yeah. Draco and I brew it every month.”

“And it doesn’t look like you’re covered in too many scars..?”

“No, having someone with me during it keeps me from ripping myself apart. Everyone takes shifts.” Hermione explained. “They wait outside of the dungeon chamber until I’m done transforming, then they come in and sit with me. Since I have the potion in my system, I don’t have any desire to hurt them. Blaise was the one who was with me last month.”

Her friend nodded emphatically. “Yeah, her transformations don’t seem that bad from an outsider’s perspective. She doesn’t like, scream in pain or anything, so…”

The man across from them slumped in relief.

“I’m so glad… I… I’m so sorry, Hermione.” Remus said quietly. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you. My mistakes caused you pain, and I can never apologize enough for that. It was never my intention to hurt you, but that’s what happened, and I…”

“Remus? Shut up.” She chuckled a bit, startling him. “I’m not… I’m not mad at you. You weren’t in control, how could I blame you for that?”

“I made a choice, and I-”

“Like you said, you made a mistake. You didn’t choose to not take your potion, you panicked, because you could smell Sirius on campus, and you came rushing to see just what had happened, because you could feel that your packmates were in danger.”

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide.

“How did you..?”

“It took a while, but once I settled in with these guys, I understood.” Hermione smiled, leaning against Blaise, who kissed the top of her head. “...Your pack is everything to you. Shoot, the first task made me feel like I was dying, watching Harry out there with the dragon… But I knew he would be fine.”

“You…” Remus paused. “...You really took to this well, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“...You amaze me, Hermione. You… I’ve spent all these months hating myself for what I’ve done, and you just… Adjusted.”

She smiled a bit, shrugging.

“I’ve always been an outcast. Now I fit in with the rest of these freaks.”

Blaise snickered at that, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“So, honestly? Becoming a werewolf might actually be one of the best things that happened to me. Ever.”

Remus scoffed, a smile on his face.

“...You amaze me, Hermione Granger. You really do.”

After that somewhat serious conversation, which Hermione continued to brush aside, repeatedly reassuring Remus that he didn’t need to apologize, and that if he did so again, she would stomp on his foot so hard she would break his toes, they were able to move on to other subjects.

They talked about Sirius, and how well he was doing at his job as Defense Professor, and about the investigation taking place at the Ministry of Magic. Remus shared a few stories about his own time at Hogwarts.

By the time three-thirty came around, they’d managed to finish their lunch, order snacks, and inhale a molten-chocolate lava cake that Rosmerta had prepared for them as practice.

They all made their way out of the Three Broomsticks after paying, smiling and laughing together, before saying their goodbye’s so they could meet up with their friends and start heading back up to the castle, promising to meet up another day to get lunch together again.

Harry and Theo arrived first, the two of them obviously in a good mood, with the latter having a massive hickey on the side of his neck.

Neville and Daphne arrived next, bags of clothes and makeup on their arms, almost vibrating from sheer excitement the entire time.

And then, when the final two members of the group arrived, they all froze.

Blaise was the first one to speak, a wide grin forming on his face.

“...Theo, you owe me ten galleons.”

Draco and Viktor, who, earlier that day, had been dancing around each other so awkwardly that it was giving everyone a migraine, were all but pressed up against each other, hands intertwined, and smiling up at one another. Theo groaned, but, handed over the galleons without any fuss.

“Congrats, you two.” Harry snickered, walking over and pulling them both into a quick hug, which was readily returned. Once he pulled away, however, he looked up at Viktor. “Break his heart and I break your face. Capiche?”

“Whuh- Harry!” Draco scolded, his eyes wide, but his new boyfriend simply laughed.

“I expect nothing less. Do not worry, I have no intention of breaking his heart.”

“Good. I like you. I don’t want to have to break your face.”

After a few more moments of giggles, they started to head back up to the castle, with Daphne slipping over to her side and whispering.

“I need Girl Time.” She said quietly. “And I bought you stuff, so… Fashion show and talky-talk when we get up to the castle? Banish the boys down to the common room?”

Hermione nodded a bit, looking at her friend with a worried gaze.

“Of course. What’s going on?”

“Not here?”

“Yeah, okay. Once we get back.”

“Thank you.” Daphne murmured, a sigh of relief escaping her.

She tried to smile reassuringly, but she couldn’t hide the worry on her face. At the same time, however, the fact that her friend immediately went to her to ask for help made her feel just a little bit better.

She liked being able to help them, too, because they actually listened to her advice when she gave it.

They were a breath of fresh air, and she wouldn’t trade them all for the world.

Chapter Text

“The boys have been banished to the common room and are having a checkers tournament, so we should be good for the next couple hours. What’s going on, Daph?” Hermione asked as she made her way back into the dorm room, her brows furrowed in worry as she looked at the pacing blonde.

Luna, who thankfully recovered from her migraine by the healing powers of pain relief potions and chocolate milk, turned her head this way and that, watching their friend as she went back and forth, back and forth, eyes wide and panicked over… Something.

What that something was had obviously happened during their outing today, but she’d never seen Daphne this worked up before. She kept her emotions in check, most of the time, and very, very rarely did she actually express anything beyond happiness and frustration.

So to see her lost in a sort of panic?

Twas incredibly disconcerting.

“I just- I’ve never really ever considered it?” Daphne said frantically, moving so quickly she seemed like she was trying to wear a path into the stone floor. “I mean, I didn’t even think I felt emotions like this? Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this before. Is it supposed to feel this suffocating?”

“Is what supposed to-”

“And there’s the fact that I don’t even know if- fuuuuck!!!”

Hermione sighed, looking at Luna. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“Poor Daphne has been visited by Ticklebees.” The other girl replied solemnly. “She’s never felt them before, so she’s very, very distressed.”

“...Lue, I love you so much, but please use Hermione-Speak?” She sighed a bit. She really, truly, did love Luna, but she didn’t understand the magical creature euphemisms that the other girl used in place of regular words.

It, much like Divination, drove her slightly mad.

“She’s developing a crush and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s a normal problem.” Hermione sighed in relief, before she, too, paused. “A problem that… I don’t know how to solve. Shit.”

“I’m gonna throw myself off the Astronomy Tower!” Daphne cried, rubbing her face. “This is horrible! I didn’t think I would ever feel this way for- I always thought it was gonna be a girl that made me panic like this! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”

“Okay, that’s drastic, maybe we could… I dunno… Figure out where these feelings are coming from? And who they’re for? I know it’s not a girl, so-”

“It’s Neville.” Luna suddenly gasped as she ripped the head off a jelly slug. “You’ve got feelings for Neville.”

Daphne stopped pacing, then, her shoulders slumping as tears welled up in her eyes. She obviously didn’t know what to do with herself, or the foreign feelings she was experiencing, and it was causing a crisis.

“Daph…” Hermione whispered, walking over and pulling her friend into a tight hug, which was readily returned. “Oh, honey…”

“I just… I didn’t… I didn’t think I could even like guys… I’ve never been interested in any of them before…”

“That can happen, you know. Plenty of people can just, randomly develop feelings like that!”

“But I just- It’s Neville! He doesn’t like anyone like this!”

“Daphne, honey, we’re fourteen-”

“You’re fifteen and Luna’s thirteen.”

“...Fair point, but, my point still stands.” Hermione chuckled a bit. “We’re going to change and grow, and things about us are going to change faster than we can process. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But what if… What if he gets angry-”

Luna chimed in again. “It’s Neville. I think the only way he’d be angry with you is if you set the greenhouse on fire. And also, it’s you. You’re his favorite.”

Daphne giggled a bit, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “You think so..?”

“I know so.”

“Okay… I just… I don’t know what to do. I’m not used to this. I’m not used to… Feelings.”

“And that’s what we’re here for.” Hermione nodded firmly, grabbing her wand and summoning a bunch of blankets and pillows, setting them up on her and Luna’s bed. Luna, in turn, began grabbing some of the snacks and candies that everyone had brought back from the village, laying them out in a fancy spread so they could indulge. “And, we’re going to get into bed, and talk this out. Figure out how you’re gonna deal with this.”

“...I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Daph. Now… Get in the fucking bed.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Daphne giggled, climbing up onto the mattress and wrapping a blanket around herself as the other two girls climbed in too, getting settled in and picking out their starting candies- the rest of her bag of jelly slugs for Luna, a Honeydukes cookies n’ cream chocolate bar for Hermione, and a cherry flavored lollipop for herself.

Once they were settled, Luna looked at her, ripping the head off a jelly slug.

“So… What made you realize these feelings? Was it a specific thing he did, or..?” She asked curiously, and Hermione nodded emphatically.

“I… I guess it was a slow build up?” She replied. “But… Earlier today, when we were out at Gladrags, he just… Merlin, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Start at the beginning, then? Like, when do you think these feelings may have first started developing?”

“Alright… I guess it must have started last year, around Yule, when I got that letter from my Mum telling me that I was a disgrace to the family…”

—

To say that Harry hated the golden egg he had retrieved from the Hungarian Horntail’s nest would be an understatement.

He, in fact, despised that egg with such a ferocity he had to resist the urge to just huck the stupid egg at the wall on a regular basis, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

The egg didn’t open in fire, it just let out a horrible screeching sound when it was opened regularly, and there weren’t any runes that covered the surface or anything like that.

It was simply a terrible, awful, no good, very bad egg.

And Viktor seemed at his wits end with the fucking thing as well, having not been able to resist the urge to huck the egg, and pelting it at the wall after staring at it for an hour and a half. After that, he’d sat on the floor, head in Draco’s lap, and the other boy simply ran his fingers through his hair.

Even Fleur and Cedric couldn’t figure it out, which was causing them even more stress than it normally would have.

Truth be told, they were desperate for something, anything, to give them a hint.

Which is why when Professor Volkov stopped him before he left Transfiguration that afternoon, Harry was both confused, and just a bit hopeful.

“Do not worry, Mr. Hartford.” The older man chuckled a bit, carefully settling into his chair and taking a slow, deep breath. He’d spent the day with a cane again, seemingly in more pain than he usually was, but kept a bright smile on his face as he spoke to his students. “About me, or why I am holding you back. I simply wanted to check in and see how you were doing with the egg?”

Harry groaned a bit.

“Truthfully, Professor? Terribly.” He explained. “None of us have any ideas, and those stupid eggs are going to drive us all insane.”

“I see… What have you tried, then?”

“Burning it, throwing it at things, looking for runes, casting like… A thousand spells at it?”

“All good options. Very good.” He nodded, sitting up more. “...Your head of house, Professor Snape, has mentioned once or twice that the Slytherin dorms have a beautiful view of the lake from below… Is that true?”

He paused, staring at his professor in confusion.

“Uh… Yeah, they do. I can spend hours staring outside if I really want to.”

“I will have to come and see at some point, then… Have you seen anything interesting?”

“I mean, sometimes the giant squid swims by… Then there’s the Grindylow, and some of the fish… Oh, and every once in a while, you can see a merperson swim by. That’s always fun.”

Volkov raised a brow at him.

“Merpeople? Truly? I have always hoped to hear their song… But, I have also heard that it sounds like the most horrendous screaming when heard above water.”

Harry froze.

“...Sir?”

“Yes… Horrible, horrible screaming.” He nodded solemnly. “But underneath the water? Beautiful. Shame I am a terrible swimmer. Difficult to swim with my joints sometimes, you see?”

“Sir. Did you just..?” He asked softly. “...I have to listen to it underwater?”

A small grin spread across Volkov’s face, and he nodded.

“Exactly right.”

“Professor, you aren’t supposed to-” Harry’s eyes went wide, a sudden flash of panic running through him.

Sirius could help him cheat, because he wasn’t going to be here beyond the end of the year. Hell that was why he decided to infiltrate the school in the first place.

Volkov, however?

He was a permanent fixture here at the school, now. He didn’t want to risk losing a genuinely kind, helpful professor to something as stupid as the Tournament.

“I do not care for those foolish rules.” The Russian man said coldly, startling Harry a bit. He’d never heard that tone from him before. “You are a boy. You deserve the help you can get. This damn Tournament was a terrible idea, anyways, and I have no interest in letting any of you get injured or worse.”

“So. I am breaking the rules. The password for the Prefect bathroom is ‘Lemon Scented’, and it is empty for the next three hours. Take the egg, submerge it in the water, get the clue, share with your fellow champions, and make a plan. Those of us who do not enjoy this game are on your side, Mr. Hartford, and we will be sure you do not suffer for the choices made by men who do not care if you live or die.”

There was something so… Ominous about the way Volkov spoke. So final, and…

Well, terrifying.

But, knowing that the professor wanted to help too certainly took away some of the anxiety.

“Yes, Professor Volkov. I-... Thank you.”

“Go, Harry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry nodded quickly, adjusting his bag and hauling ass out of the classroom, completely missing the solemn expression on the man’s face as he disappeared down the hall, racing down to the dungeons to go and grab the egg from his dorm room.

Once he had it, he tucked it into his bag, as well as a change of clothes and a towel, and after checking the map, he slipped back out of the dungeon and up towards where he knew the Prefect's bathroom to be. After a bit of careful dodging, and ducking into a side corridor when one of the actual Prefects made their way down the hall, he spoke the password and was let in without any hesitation.

And his first thought upon seeing the room was that it was, very possibly, the one thing that would actually entice him to be a Prefect.

It was softly lit by a splendid, candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edges, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle.

There was also a fucking diving board.

A diving board.

Long white linen curtains hung at the windows, a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single gold framed painting on the wall, featuring a sleeping, blonde mermaid whose hair fell over her face and fluttered with every breath she took.

Harry moved forward, carefully grabbing everything he’d brought with him out of his bag, and he made his way over to the many, many taps, studying them for a moment before he turned on a few of them.

Immediately, he realized that they were all hot water, mixing in with different sorts of bubble bath, although he’d never seen any quite like this.

His mum, Fiona, had always loved her fancy baths. Vanilla scented bubbles, candles, and other soaps and things were a regular occurrence in the Hartford house, and he was hit with a small pang in his chest at the knowledge that she would have absolutely loved this tub.

. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs, while another poured ice-white foam so thick that Harry thought it would have supported his weight if he’d cared to test it. A third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water, and a fourth sent green, sparkly bubbles gently drifting through the purple clouds.

Once he’d had his fun turning the taps on and off, he shut them all down, looking at the full pool of water with a deep sigh before he stripped out of his clothes and slid into the water.

It was so deep that his feet barely touched the bottom, and he actually decided to do a couple of lengths before swimming back to the side and treading water, staring at the egg for a moment before he grabbed it.

“Alright, you golden bastard…” He mumbled. “Time to go under… Spill your secrets.”

Harry took a great breath and slid under the surface of the water.

Now, sitting on the marble bottom of the bubble-filled bath, he heard a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the open egg in his hands, instead of the ear splitting screeching he had gotten so accustomed to.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour — the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

He shot back up out of the water with a sharp gasp, coughing up some of the water that had gotten up his nose and down into his lungs with a painful gasp.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Harry wiped his eyes, taking a shaky, deep breath as he reinflated his lungs properly.

Despite only hearing it once, the words had burned themselves into his mind.

“Taken what you’ll sorely miss…” He murmured. “...There’s not much they could take that I would sorely miss, especially not since they-”

He paused for a moment, a horrible, dawning realization.

There were very few objects in this world that mattered to him that deeply, and all of them were either constantly in his possession, or the possession of one of his best friends.

His parent’s rings, his Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauder’s Map. Always within an arm's reach.

The only things in this world that he would miss more than that?

Are the people he trusted with those objects the most.

“Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” Harry hissed, scrambling out of the water and grabbing his towel, drying off so quickly he gave himself a friction burn on his leg, before he dressed himself, tossed everything in a nearby marble hamper, and took off out of the Prefect’s bathroom without a moment of care as to who saw him.

He had people to warn.

—

“We have to rescue someone stuck at the bottom of the Black Lake.” Harry said, his voice shaking a bit. “Someone who we love dearly. Who we’d sorely miss.”

He looked up again after a moment, the pale, terrified faces of his friends looking back at him.

He’d dragged them all to the Room of Requirement, forcing them to skip their classes, and almost obsessively looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was following them before they disappeared into the room.

Truth be told, he wished that he didn’t have to be the one to bear the bad news. He wished he didn’t have to watch his friend’s faces contort in fear as they realized that the Tournament was going to put more innocent people in danger than they’d ever truly expected.

And seeing the way Viktor’s fists clenched, one arm snaking its way around Draco’s waist and hugging him closer protectively, his eyes narrowing as he visibly began going through every possible way he could try and keep this from happening.

Fleur and Cedric looked like they were about to faint. Or be sick, or… A million other horrible things purely from the sudden stress they both felt, and Harry couldn’t blame them.

The Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be a competition to discover the Champion from the three schools, and instead, they’d had to face down fully grown, nesting dragon mothers, and were now going to have their loved ones put in actual, legitimate peril for them to rescue.

Harry was, truthfully, not surprised in the slightest.

But the terror on his friend’s faces made him feel terrible.

“...They are going to take my Gabrielle.” Fleur whispered in horror, covering her face as tears sprung to her eyes. “My baby sister… I need to get her out of here. I need to get her out of here.”

“Go, Fleur.” Blaise nodded. “Come back if you feel up for it later, we’ll start figuring out a plan.”

She nodded quickly, stumbling up to her feet and taking off out of the Room, and Harry slowly sat down next to Theo, his hand quickly finding his boyfriend’s and squeezing it tightly.

“...You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you, right?” He whispered fiercely. “None of you.”

“We know, Harry.” Neville reassured him. “But that’s not what we have to worry about right now. What we need is to make sure that you four can get to the bottom of the lake with minimal issues.”

“Exactly.” Draco agreed, his hands gently playing with Viktor’s- a nervous habit he’d picked up since they got together. “There’s… A lot of ways to do it, right?”

“Bubblehead charms.” Cedric offered. “Or… Or self-transfiguration, like… Turning part of yourself into a sea creature? Like a shark?”

“Difficult to maintain.” Viktor said quietly. “Especially in a high stress situation.”

Their train of thought, however, was broken by Daphne, who began to excitedly slap Neville’s arm, startling the other boy.

“Gillyweed!” She gasped. “You have Gillyweed at home! And Russian Water Lillies!!”

His eyes went wide.

“Oh, Merlin! You’re right!” He gasped, sitting up. “Gillyweed! It’s perfect! I might have enough for you all to practice with it, too!”

Hermione sighed in relief. “Thank goodness… I forgot that you have that stuff in the basement…”

“I did too.” Harry admitted.

“I’m not shocked.” Neville snickered, standing up quickly. “You buy us so much stuff, it’s no wonder you forget what you spent your money on. I’m going to go and write to Narcissa, ask her to send me the jars as soon as possible.”

“I’ll come with.” Luna offered, looking at Daphne for a moment, and when the other girl nodded, she jumped up to her feet. “We can stop by and visit Uncle Erasmus on the way to the Owlry.”

“Perfect. We’ll be back.”

The two of them quickly hurried out of the room as well, which is when Blaise cleared his throat, standing up and rolling the board that had, only a couple weeks ago, been covered in pictures of dragons in front of the group.

“Alright… Now that we have Gillyweed as an option.” He said softly. “We still need to go over everything we know about the task, and figure out the best possible way of getting everyone through this alive and well. You have one hour in the water, and it’s happening in late February, which means the water will be cold as ice… So we need to take into account hypothermia, and other such disorders.”

As Blaise continued to speak, Harry leaned up against Theo, who adjusted how they were sitting so he could wrap one arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and still hold his hand with the other.

Even though he knew with their combined abilities and experience, they would be able to figure out a proper plan, he was still terrified.

Especially since he didn’t know which of his friend’s lives was going to be risked for this stupid fucking tournament.

And everyone who organized it was going to have to pray that nothing bad happened to the people he loved, otherwise there would be hell to pay.

Harry took a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes as he felt the soft pulsing of the Potter ring on his finger.

Yeah, if they hurt his family, there would be utter hell to pay.

-

Narcissa,

I’m so sorry if this letter makes absolutely no sense, but we have a problem. A big, freaking, problem.

And we need help.

Down in the basement of Grimmauld Place, if you go into my little greenhouse, there’s a box in the back corner that gets almost no light. If you open it, there should be a few jars of Gillyweed, as well as some Russian Water Lilies, inside.

If you could, I would really appreciate it if you could send those to us as soon as possible?

We don’t need them until February, for the second task, but I want to make sure I can keep it alive and cultivated until then.

Harry, Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur are going to have to dive to the bottom of The Black Lake and retrieve people from the bottom, someone important to them. Fleur is convinced it’s her little sister, and has decided to try and convince her to go back to France. Cedric thinks it’ll be his girlfriend, Cho, and Viktor knows it’s going to be Draco.

Which, I know you aren’t happy about.

We don’t know who will be dragged down there for Harry, but all I know is that whoever actually puts everyone down in the lake is going to be in for a bad time.

And all four of them are really, really scary when they’re mad.

So, again, could you please send the plants ASAP?

Thank you, we all love and miss you,

Neville

-

Neville,

They will be there at the end of the week.

Now, what the fuck do you mean my son is going to be stuck at the bottom of the Black Lake in February?

Ignore the above message.

I’ll see you on Wednesday. And I will, in fact, have the Gillyweed.

And the lilies.

And maybe a head on a pike. Haven’t decided yet.

Love,

Narcissa

P.S. Give everyone my love, and tell Viktor and Draco that Lucius and I are very, very happy for the two of them! We’re so proud!!

Chapter Text

As the days went on, the weather turned colder and colder, with thick snow drifts covering the ground and hiding the earth from view.

The days were short, the nights were long, and the school was abuzz with the news that on December Twenty-First, the Yule Ball would be taking place, as is tradition when it comes to the Triwizard Tournament.

There was constant chatter as everyone tried to figure out what to wear, who to go with, and just what a Ball like this would be like. There were multiple fights, arguments, and at least one duel between a couple of girls who had wanted Cedric to ask them, only for them both to end up heartbroken when he’d told them that he was taking his girlfriend.

Fleur had it even worse, with over half the school harassing her about dates, which did include the hysterical moment in which Weasley all but screamed at her from across the courtyard, which had sent the entire group into hysterical giggles, purely because it was utterly ridiculous.

And, well, Harry and Viktor already had their dates.

None of the Champions were excited about the ball, however, as all of them were feeling the stress of the second task, which loomed just past the horizon, only two months away.

Yes, there was a semblance of excitement in each of them. A night free from the stresses of the tournament, fancy clothes, drinks, and fun, but that wouldn’t take away the constant looming fear in the back of their minds.

A looming fear which was having to be pushed aside for Harry, because he had an appointment with Nakran, the goblin healer, later that day.

She had decided that six months after the removal of the Horcrux was plenty of time for his mind to recover from the effects, and that meant that anything she found lurking about in his mind was actually a part of him, not just an effect of the dark magic that had lurking within him.

And he couldn’t help but feel anxious about it.

“I mean, really, what is she going to find?” Theo asked softly, looking at him worriedly as he took small bites of porridge. “You have depression, we know that. You almost definitely have an anxiety disorder. Maybe even a panic disorder, if we’re going that far…”

“I think you might have a personality disorder.” Draco chimed in, looking up from his muggle psychology textbook- one of the many medical textbooks that Narcissa had purchased for him when he’d told her he was fascinated by healing. “I don’t know which one, but… A personality disorder.”

“Are we seriously taking bets on what’s wrong with me?” Harry laughed a bit, utter disbelief on his face.

“Duh. Ohh, OCD? No, no, you don’t have that…”

He snorted again, covering his mouth as he tried not to spit porridge everywhere. He knew his friends were just trying to distract him for the time being, until Narcissa arrived at the school to take him to Gringotts, and he couldn’t really be upset at it.

The morning continued like that, with his friends pouring over Draco’s psychology textbook and throwing out theories and whatever random ideas they could, until Viktor walked over, took one look at the textbook that was filled to the brim with complicated, long English words, and simply declared that Harry was-

“Definitely messed up.”

Which, was the most accurate guess so far, in his opinion.

Their laughter quieted down, however, when Snape slipped behind Harry, gently resting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Mr. Hartford.” He said simply. “Your Aunt is waiting for you in my office for your appointment. She said that we will see you again at five o’ clock at the latest.”

“My Aunt- Oh, is that what Narcissa is officially listed as?” Harry asked, his eyes wide, and his professor nodded. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s certainly easier than saying third cousin.”

“Fair enough.” He agreed, standing up and pressing a quick kiss to Theo’s lips. “I’ll see you guys later. Time to get my brain picked.”

“Have fun. Make sure you eat lunch, you barely ate breakfast.” Blaise scolded, narrowing his eyes and staring at his friend until he agreed that he would, in fact, eat a proper lunch. Once that was settled, he followed Snape down into the dungeons, where a smiling Narcissa greeted him.

“Hello, sweetheart…” She said softly, wrapping him up in a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better.” He replied quietly. “The second task is scaring the shit out of us.”

“Understandably.”

“You know, you never answered our questions about what happened when you brought us the Gillyweed.” Harry frowned, looking up at her. “You were up there with the headmasters, Crouch, and Bagman for a while…”

Narcissa, however, simply smiled, gently patted him on the head like he was a small child, and pulled away a bit. “Nothing you need to worry your head about. I may not have been able to fix anything, but I believe I may have put the fear of the gods into Bagman.”

“Good.” He snickered. “He deserves it.”

“Severus, thank you for bringing him to me. Like I said, we should be back before five, but five is the latest.”

“Not a problem, Narcissa. Be safe, I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye, Professor!” Harry waved at him, the two of them quickly stepping into the floo and heading down to the Three Broomsticks, walking out of the boundary, and apparating to Diagon Alley so they could go to Gringotts. “Uhm, Cissa?”

“Yes, love?” She asked, turning to look at him with a worried expression.

“Could you hold my jewelry? I forgot to leave it all with Theo…”

“Of course.”

He smiled a bit, carefully taking off each ring, necklace, and earring as they walked up the marble steps and into Gringotts. In turn, she carefully tucked each one into her pockets, making sure they didn’t get tangled.

The second they entered the bank, Nakran hustled over to them.

“Lady Malfoy. Heir Hartford. You’re perfectly on time!” She grinned. “And you’ve removed your jewelry? Very good, very good, Heir Hartford…”

“Of course, Nakran. I know they get in the way of your work… I meant to take them off earlier, but Narcissa is holding onto them for me.”

“Not a problem at all.” Nakran chuckled, holding her hand out to Harry, who gently took it, being careful of the goblin woman’s claws. “Come along, now… We have to discuss some things before I look through your mind.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, letting himself be led through the bank and back towards where the ritual chamber was, anxiety still bubbling in his chest, but he felt some level of relief at being back in safe, comfortable hands.

He trusted Nakran, after all.

—

“So… How have you been feeling, Heir Hartford?” She asked softly as she climbed up into the desk chair, and he sat down across from her on the other side. Narcissa was sent into the waiting room to make sure that there were no outside influences on the conversation, and the door was locked from the inside to prevent anyone from bursting in.

“Ah… Not good, but I don’t know if that’s because of my brain. I think it’s the Tournament and everything going on with that.”

“Well, discounting the Tournament?”

“I guess I’ve been fine? I mean…” Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair as a frown pulled at his face. “There was that whole thing with Moody- or, well… Not Moody. Him casting all the Unforgivables in front of us, and then putting us under the Imperius curse?”

He didn’t know quite how confidential all of this would be, so he didn’t really want to admit that he knows Barty Crouch Jr had been alive up until Halloween, and that he had impersonated and kidnapped the ex-Auror.

“Yes… I heard about that. It would be traumatic for anyone, but especially those of you who’ve experienced trauma, or those Curses, before.”

“Exactly.”

“Narcissa mentioned to me when we made this appointment that you struggle when it comes to trusting your professors at Hogwarts as well… Would you care to dive into that, a bit?”

“God, ah… Yeah. It just… The only professors I trust are Snape, Sinistra, Rosier, and Volkov right now… I mean, they’re the only ones who don’t feel like they could betray me at a moment’s notice, if that makes sense? I dunno, just… Quirrell and Lockhart both ruined me, and then Lupin last year… And Not-Moody at the start of this year… It’s…”

Nakran nodded a bit, watching him as he slowly began to explain some of what happened during his first three years at Hogwarts, leaving out certain parts. He explained the troll attack, and Theo coming to stay with his family for Christmas. He told her about the Sorcerer’s Stone, and having to rescue Draco from Quirrellmort. She didn’t bat an eye when he mentioned that he’d killed the man, simply nodding again, and wrote a note about it on her parchment.

“You were acting in defense, Heir Hartford.” She chided him gently, when he murmured about how killing Quirrell had bothered him so much at first. “The Ministry said as much. You and Heir Malfoy were in danger, and you did what you needed to do to survive.”

“Still, I just…”

“And during your first year, you received two head injuries? One to the front of your head, and one to the back?”

“Huh? Yeah… A rogue bludger to the face and I cracked my head on the stairs after Quirrell…”

“I see.” Nakran nodded, making another note on her parchment. A part of Harry desperately wanted to see what she was writing, but another part of him was more worried about what it would actually say.

After a bit more prompting, he began to explain the events of second year, of his parent’s murder, the way he felt completely and utterly lost after losing them, and leaving out the murder of Lockhart and the complete lack of remorse he felt. Then, after even more prompting, he explained his third year as well. Of realizing that his professor was one of his godfather’s, of the dementors, and every horrible thing in between.

He hesitated for a moment when Sirius came up, which is when Nakran spoke again.

“Heir Hartford.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, almost worried. “...Goblins do not meddle in the affairs of wixen. We only get involved when those we consider allies are threatened. You, Heir Hartford, are a friend of the goblin nation.”

“When did that happen?” Harry frowned.

“Goblins keep track of those who treat us with kindness and respect. Steelclaw has spoken very highly of you on multiple occasions, of your politeness and the way you do not falter at our appearances or ways. You are still a child, so you cannot be a true ally just yet, but once you have reached your majority, you can be.”

“Uhm… I’m, honored, then. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of that at all.”

Nakran laughed, her teeth on full display. “That is more than fine, Heir Hartford… Now, is there anything you want to discuss before I take a look inside your mind? I feel as though we have reached a point in your stories where I will have a better chance of understanding it all if I see it for myself.”

“Mostly just what that entails? Is it like Legilimency, or..?” He asked softly, tilting his head.

“In a way, yes, although it is not nearly as painful as wix do it. I will give you a sleeping draught, which will put you to sleep for a couple of hours, and while you are under, I’ll take a peek inside your mind. My magic will be able to tell if you have any physical problems with your brain, such as a tumor, or any damage, while my trip through your memories will give me a more psychological profile. While this happens, your consciousness will be placed in a dream-state, so you don’t have to relive those painful memories.”

Harry nodded again, a sigh of relief escaping him. “Can I just say how much I love the way goblins do things? You’re putting me to sleep for this… I had an MRI once as a kid and I hated it.”

“Yes, I have heard muggleborns say that MRI machines are terrifying.”

“So… Ritual Chamber?”

“Ritual Chamber.” Nakran agreed, handing him the bottle of Sleeping Draught and unlocking the door with a snap of her fingers, the two of them leaving the office and heading down the short hallway into the chamber. Harry carefully made his way into the center of the room as he had earlier in the year and sat down, downing the potion as he laid back.

The goblin gently guided his head into her lap, removing his glasses and setting them to the side as she placed her hands on both of his temples.

“Hey, Nakran?”

“Yes?”

“If… If Narcissa asks about what you saw up here… It’s okay to tell her, okay?” Harry said softly. “She’s allowed to know. I trust her.”

“Alright. But I will only tell her if she asks. Sweet dreams, Heir Hartford.”

“Thank you, Nakran…” He said quietly, his eyelids becoming heavy as he slowly drifted off to sleep, the last sensation that washed over him being the healer’s magic as it wrapped around his head.

Then, blissful emptiness.

—

“So, what did you find?” Narcissa asked quietly, chewing on her lip as she looked over at Nakran, the goblin healer’s hand gently running over Harry’s forehead, his peacefully sleeping form limp in the hospital bed.

And the grim expression on the healer’s face did not give her much hope.

“...Heir Hartford has been through more trauma than I thought possible. Especially for a boy his age. Fourteen years old, and seeing as much as he has..? I can hardly imagine it, and I saw it as well…”

“Can you… Can you just… Give me some examples?”

“...He does not remember the deaths of his biological parents. Any memory recollection that he has of them is due to the Horcrux forcing him to remember it.” Nakran explained. “However, that event did still cause a sort of trauma within him. Infants cannot create memories the way we do, but a part of him does remember feeling unsafe. Afraid, and not understanding why he was not being comforted by his mother.”

Narcissa bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hide the visceral reaction she felt to that.

“But his years with his Aunt and Uncle are what set in motion much of what we see today, as well as the two years in foster care. He views his time in the foster system as happy, because he was fed three meals a day, and had his own bed.” The goblin almost snarled. “...Those wretched people kept him in a broom cupboard under the stairs, Lady Malfoy. They beat him, and starved him, and the poor boy didn’t even know his name was Harry until he went to muggle primary school.”

“...What?” She asked quietly, her voice shaking as she fought back the bile that rose in her throat. “He didn’t..?”

“He thought his name was ‘Boy.’ He didn’t even know his own damned name.”

She didn’t even know how to reply to that, the anger that quickly rose in her body overwhelming the horror and disgust she felt.

And, the more Nakran spoke, the angrier she felt.

Narcissa’s mind drifted to Lily Potter, of a girl the same age as herself at the time.

Twenty-one years old, with a one year old boy. Her son, her pride and joy, the light of her life.

The knowledge that her child was doomed to die for something none of them could control, the utter terror that came with knowing that there was nothing she could do to protect him.

She could imagine that terror. The fierce rage that coursed through her veins as she swore to herself that she would do anything to protect her son.

And she could imagine what she felt on the other side, knowing that her sister, even though they were estranged from what Sirius had told her, hated her nephew so much that she would treat him so terribly?

Narcissa had only been reunited with Andromeda for a year, now. After twenty-some odd years apart, and yet she knew, in her heart of hearts, that if something had happened to her and Lucius?

Andromeda would have taken Draco into her home and loved that boy as if he were her own. She would have adored him, and never would have even thought to treat him the way Petunia Dursley had treated Harry.

And Narcissa would have done the same for Nymphadora, if need be.

“Lady Malfoy?” Nakran asked, snapping her out of her train of thought.

“Yes? I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry, please continue.”

The goblin sighed a bit, shaking her head and gently patting her hand. “No, no… I think I’ve said enough. Heir Hartford would not want me to frighten you so.”

“I’m not scared, I’m just… Furious. I’m furious for him.”

“Understandably so. If my children were harmed in such a way, I would rip their heads from their necks and throw them into the pits.”

“See? Thank you.” Narcissa huffed, closing her eyes and rubbing her face before returning to the task at hand. “...So… What can we… What does he have, I suppose?”

Nakran nodded a bit, grabbing a roll of parchment out.

“Heir Hartford is dealing with a multitude of problems, but some of them can be treated, and their symptoms lessened, by a potion that I will give you the first dose of today.” She explained. “That potion is to help stabilize his mind and the chemicals being released, like a muggle anti-depressant, to help treat his severe depression and anxiety. We may need to make adjustments as we go, but, this should help with his suicidal ideation, and lessen his anxiety attacks. Both of which are caused by his very, very obvious PTSD.”

“There will be a brief period when he begins his medication that will cause many of these symptoms and negative aspects to become worse, but, that will go away with time.”

Narcissa hummed. “I’ll ask Severus to keep a closer eye on him. As well as his friends.”

“Then there are the repeated injuries to his frontal lobe. If I were a muggle psychologist, who was not able to see the direct correlation between the injuries and his violent, erratic behavior, I would say that Heir Hartford has what’s known as Antisocial Personality Disorder. However, he does not exhibit all of the symptoms.”

“So that means he..?”

“I am not diagnosing him as a sociopath, no. He does not have all of the correct symptoms, nor the childhood behavior to back it up.” Nakran smiled. “Heir Hartford is a gentle, sweet boy, who simply has been repeatedly forced into situations that make him have to fight for survival. His violent tendencies are a result of repeated head injury, and trauma from previous incidents.”

“What can we do for that, then?”

“Therapy, if he’s amenable to it. At least twice a month.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to him about that, then.”

“Thank you, Lady Malfoy… I will go and retrieve the potion, and then, I’ll walk you through how it must be taken, that way you can explain it to him as well.”

“Of course, Healer Nakran. Thank you so much. I’ll be right here with him.” Narcissa smiled, turning to look at Harry’s sleeping form as she listened to the goblin leave the room. She gently reached out, taking one of his hands in her own, and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“...Don’t you worry, Harry.” She whispered. “I’ll help you. With whatever you need… I promise.”

“And I’ll make sure those sick bastards pay for what they did to you…”

—

One lid full of his potion was to be taken every morning with breakfast, after eating, that way the medicine would not cause harm to his stomach. His behavior would be worse for a short while as his body got used to the stabilization of the chemicals in his mind, and he would keep track of his emotions via a chart that Nakran made for him.

In a few weeks, once his symptoms had lessened, he was to visit a mind healer who was organized by Nakran to speak with him twice a month, and he would give them the sheet of parchment so they could see how he had been feeling as he adjusted to his medication.

Severus and Professor Sinistra would be keeping an eye on him, as well as Sirius, which meant that Harry had three professors keeping a constant watch over him.

Narcissa breathed out slowly, the warmth of her breath catching inside of the mask she wore, the cloak over her head disguising her the rest of the way as she walked down the dark suburban street.

Harry would be okay, she just needed to keep reassuring herself of that. He was safely at Hogwarts, under the loving, watchful care of people she trusted, likely sleeping off the last of the draught in his system and cuddling with his boyfriend.

The only problem?

She couldn’t live with herself, knowing that the people who had set him on this course of darkness were still out there, free to live their lives, even if they had had their son taken away from him.

It wasn’t difficult to get him to talk about his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, not at all. He was still dazed after waking up from his nap, so when Narcissa had taken him out to lunch afterwards, a few well worded questions, and she had everything she needed to know.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley lived at Number Four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey.

An awful little place, in her opinion, but one that would do nicely for her needs.

He said that they likely still lived there, because the house was so close to Vernon’s office, and Petunia liked to peep at the neighbors over the bushes.

She also knew that the two of them weren’t popular around the neighborhood because of that reason as well, and the fact that they were outed as being child abusers didn’t help either.

If Narcissa had been in their place, not that she ever would be, she would have moved away immediately.

But, they were obviously fools.

So, as she walked up Privet Drive the rest of the way, she looked at the numbers on each of the houses, her eyes scanning for Number Four.

And, when she found it, she smiled, adjusting the mask on her face and marching up towards the house.

The car that sat in the front of the house was the same one that Harry had described in his dazed state. A large, silver car with a yellow license plate and tinted windows, and the mailbox still had the Dursley’s name printed brightly on it.

They did still live here.

It didn’t take long for her to scope out the house, locating every window and door that led to the outside, and it took even less time for her to seal them all with a simple spell.

They could be trapped too. It was only fair, after what they did to Harry.

Then, with one flick of her wand, and a single, murmured spell, she watched a fire slowly begin to lick up the side of the wooden building.

She stayed, for only a moment, to watch the fire slowly reach up the side of the house, before she apparated away, landing just outside of Andromeda’s home in Essex, quickly rushing up the steps.

Her sister opened the door immediately, the charmed wind chimes on the front porch ringing wildly at the arrival of a new person on the grounds, her eyes wide as Narcissa vanished the mask and removed the cloak from her head.

“If there are any questions asked about where I was this evening, I was with you all night.” She said quickly as she slipped into the house, looking around a bit, and relaxing when she realized that Ted was on the sofa and Nymphadora, the one she was truly worried about, was out of the house.

“Cissy.” Andromeda said quietly. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just… Had to take care of some business.”

“...Business that needs an alibi?” Ted raised a brow, before he sipped his tea and shrugged, going back to his book. “Fair enough. I won’t ask.”

“Andie, I adore your husband so much.”

“I love him too. Now… Into the kitchen, tell me what’s going on. Now.” Her sister replied firmly, and Narcissa nodded, following her into the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of tea.

They stood there in silence for a moment, Andromeda quietly waiting for her baby sister to explain herself.

“...I was completely hidden, so don’t worry about anything being traced back to me.” Narcissa began. “Mask, cloak, the whole nine yards. I did everything right.”

“Cissy, I know you did everything right. Our father would be rolling in his grave if you didn’t.”

“I know, I know, I just…” She trailed off, her hands trembling a bit.

Even during the war, she’d always stayed out of the actual attacks, choosing instead to stay home and provide an alibi for her husband, in case Aurors began knocking upon the door.

“Cissy..?”

“...I killed two people. Muggles.” She said quickly, deciding to just get it over with. “At least, I think I did. I didn’t stay to watch.”

“...Narcissa you are telling me every fucking thing about what just happened, and you are telling me now.”

And, because she could never keep secrets from her sister, she told her everything.

Because Andromeda understood. Andromeda was a mother.

And she was a Black, too.

And Blacks would do anything for the ones they loved.

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up on December Twentieth, he felt empty.

It took him nearly an hour to remember why, as he got up, took a shower, brushed his teeth, dressed himself for the day, and slowly shambled out to the common room to greet his friends.

But, the second he took one step into the comforting chamber he had come to know as a home away from home, he could feel the looks of worry, of pity, and a thousand other emotions.

Ah. That made sense.

It had been two years, now.

Upon realizing the date, and quietly deciding upon himself that he really, honestly, did not feel like dealing with the world today, he made his way over to Theo, kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head, and smiled at him.

“I’m going to go bother Snape until he calls someone to come get me. I’ll be fine, I won’t be alone today, I just… Can’t. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay…” His boyfriend said softly, his voice tinged with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?”

“No, no, I’m alright… Just need some time to myself.” Harry smiled. “Might go and visit the house. Or I’ll just, force Lucius to come to the cinemas. I wonder what’s playing right now…”

“Okay, baby. I love you. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I know, I know… Tell everyone that I’m heading out for the day, would you? I don’t want Draco to panic and send in the cavalry. Hermione’s still recovering from the full moon.”

“Of course. Be safe.”

“Always.”

And, with that, Harry pulled away fully, carefully making his way through the short hallway that led to Professor Snape’s office, and knocking upon the large door. It took a moment, but the man quickly pulled it open, his eyes softening immediately upon seeing who was calling upon him.

“Good morning, Harry…” He said quietly.

“Good morning, Professor. Could I ask you to call Malfoy Manor and-”

“Already ahead of you.” A familiar man’s voice chimed in from behind, and Harry lit up when he peered around his head of house to see a blonde, smiling man.

“Lucius!”

He quickly rushed forward, throwing his arms around the man in a tight hug, which was easily returned, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other squeezed him tightly around the back.

“Severus called me early this morning. Said he wanted to make sure I was on standby in case you wanted to leave. I figured you and I could have a bit of a lad’s day out… Do whatever you want, keep you at least somewhat distracted.” Lucius said quietly. “Or we can go wallow in grief. That works too.”

“I think a bit of both would be nice… I have a few places I want to visit.”

“Perfect. Severus, I’ll be taking our favorite little truant out for the day.”

“You’ve already signed the permission forms, Lucius, just take him. Harry, be safe, don’t do anything foolish, and make sure you come back.” Snape insisted quietly, his gaze lingering on the two of them. “Please.”

Harry paused for a moment, staring at his professor as he tried to get a read on what the man was thinking, but when he turned his head away again, he just smiled.

“Yes, sir. We’ll be back later.”

“Good. Have a… Have a decent day, Mr. Hartford.”

“You as well.”

Lucius nodded, walking over and offering a soft goodbye to his friend before leading Harry into the floo, the two of them heading down to The Leaky Cauldron before going out beyond the Hogsmeade Border.

“So, where do you want to go, Harry?” Lucius asked softly, looking over at him with a soft smile. “The world is our oyster, after all.”

“...I’d like to go home, for a minute.”

“To Grimmauld?”

“No… Uh, home-home. The Crow’s Nest.” He replied, adjusting his bag a bit. “And… Maybe a couple of other places afterwards.”

“Of course.”

And, without another word, the two of them linked arms, and apparated away.

—

The Crow’s Nest was, as it always was every winter, completely snowed in.

Thankfully, someone had gone through and shoveled out the alleyway that led to the backyard, so the two of them didn’t have to trudge through nearly a foot of snow just to get to the back gate, which was easily unlocked with the key that Harry still kept in the bottom of his bag.

He made a pointed effort to not look at the planters.

The ones that used to hold his mum’s begonias.

He stepped up to the door, grabbing his pocket knife and flicking it open, slicing his palm and pressing it against the wood and watching as the runes he had placed into it let out a soft, green glow, before the lock clicked.

“Blood wards?” Lucius said, obviously impressed. “Excellent work. Your runework is perfect, too…”

“It was the very first ward I ever did. I hadn’t even started Ancient Runes yet.” Harry chuckled, pushing the door open and gesturing for the man to follow him, which he did, but only after kicking the snow off of his boots.

“Really? That makes it even more amazing, you know.”

“I guess.” He shrugged, carefully climbing the stairs and letting out a quiet, shaky breath as he looked around.

It was… Still strange to be here.

This was his home. This was his safe place, his safe haven… But every part of him felt gross being here.

Harry flicked a light switch, sighing when he realized that the power must have been shut off due to no one paying the bill, before he waved his hand, making a few balls of light to follow the two of them around as they walked.

“So… What are you looking for?” Lucius asked softly, pausing at one of the pictures on the wall- the one of Harry, his parents, and Theo, to be precise- before turning to look at him.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “Anything, really… I just… I dunno… I’m gonna go wander around. Just… Don’t move anything? Please?”

“I won’t.” The other man promised, with a solemn nod. “I think I just want to look at these pictures…”

He smiled a bit, nodding before he headed up the flight of stairs that took him to the second floor of the house, where his room, his parents’ room, and Prue’s nursery had been.

He wouldn’t go into the nursery.

No, he couldn’t.

That was the correct way to put it.

Not a single bone in his body would allow him to cross the threshold into that fucking room. He couldn’t see that bloody crib, or the bloodstain on the floor, or…

He just couldn’t.

So, Harry shook his head, walking into his parent’s bedroom with a soft, shaky sigh, the familiar, dark decor soothing him almost immediately.

The house felt so foreign, and yet this bedroom didn’t.

The bed was still unmade.

Harry smiled a bit, walking over and running his hand over the soft comforter, closing his eyes as he breathed in the stale scent of his parents.

Cigarettes, coffee, and rose perfume.

What a beautiful scent, even when two years old.

He carefully sat down on the bed, the plush mattress giving way as he did, and he looked around a bit, hunching his shoulders as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

Because even though they were buried in East Finchley, that wasn’t where they were.

They were here. They were home, they were with him at all times.

They were always there.

“...It’s a shitty day today, huh?” He said after a moment. “Really shitty. You guys have been dead for two years, and… God… I dunno what to even say anymore.”

“I had, a hunk of Voldemort’s soul in my forehead? We got that removed… Uh… Draco has a boyfriend. Viktor Krum. He’s a professional Quidditch player, and… Shit, they’re so in love. It reminds me of the two of you. Makes me sick just thinking about it, but I guess it’s revenge for all the time that Theo and I spent grossing everyone else out…”

Harry trailed off, a strange, tingling sensation at the side of his head causing him to turn towards the closet, standing up and making his way over to it without really even thinking.

Carefully, he pulled the door open, frowning a bit when he looked up at where the tingling feeling was coming from, reaching up with his magic and pulling down the large, cardboard box.

It fell into his arms, making him stagger with the weight, but what made him drop to the floor was the large box of ammo that fell down and cracked him on the head, forcing a sharp yelp from his lungs as he hit the ground, dropping the first box to grab at the part of his head that was ringing from the pain.

He watched, bleary eyed from tears, as diaries spilled out from the box.

A little over twenty of them, each one marked in paint.

1969, 1970, 1971…

All the way up until 1991.

He frowned, rubbing his head again as he knelt a bit, picking up one of the books- the one labeled 1971- and flipping it open to a random page, his eyes scanning the childish scrawl for a moment before he registered what it said.

-

July 19th, 1971

Dear Diary,

I had that dream again. The one about the black haired boy with the dark eyes. His face is getting clearer every time I dream about him.

Gramps says that it's a good sign. Says that my Great-Auntie, his little sister, used to have dreams about the future. Mama keeps telling him not to fill my head up with lies like that, but I always go and sit with him so he can tell me stories about them.

I love hearing about my Great-Auntie Dorea. She made our family wedding rings, as a special gift to Gramps!

Maybe I can ask him if he has any pictures of her, cause he says I look just like her. Says that Daddy looks just like his brother Pollux, but I think that Daddy looks just like Gramps did when he wasn’t a Gramps yet.

I’ll tell you more if I find anything out.

Love,

Fiona

-

Harry’s breath hitched, his eyes going wide as he realized what, exactly, he was looking at.

His mum’s childhood diary. Or, one of them.

He did a bit of quick mental math. If this diary was written in 1971, then she would have been about eight years old.

And he had just found all of them, from the time she was six, until he started his first year at Hogwarts…

Except, there was none labeled 1992.

He stood up, about to head over to his mum’s nightstand, when he heard Lucius call up the stairs.

“Harry! Are you alright?!”

“Yeah! I’m okay!!” Harry shouted back. “I just knocked some stuff over!”

He quickly made his way to the top of the stairs, spotting the other man down at the bottom, and he smiled a bit.

“Do you think you could go and get us something to eat? Like, maybe from Mr. Zhu’s? You know where that is, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think so. Narcissa craves it, now, so we make little excursions out at least once a week for lunch. She usually apparates us, but I think I know the area enough by now.”

“Cool, thank you. I’d go with, I just… I have some stuff to go through.”

“Yeah, of course.” Lucius smiled, quickly trotting up the stairs and kissing the top of Harry’s head. “Orange chicken?”

“Please and thank you.” He nodded, ducking his head a bit to let himself be kissed.

“You got it. I’ll be back. I’ll apparate out of the backyard. Will the wards let me..?”

“Yep. Since I deactivated them, and I’m in the house, you’ll be totally fine, I promise.”

“Alright, love you, Harry.”

“Love you too, Lucius.”

With that, he quickly made his way back down the stairs, through the living room, and down the second staircase until he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him.

Once he heard the door click shut, and the familiar pop of apparition, Harry slipped back into his parent’s bedroom, going over to Fiona’s nightstand and starting to look through it.

Which, was when he found another diary. Same style as the others, with 1992 written in paint pen on the cover.

He grabbed that one as well, setting it on the bed before he moved the rest of the diaries to the bed, settling down and grabbing the one labeled 1972.

After a moment of hesitation, he unbound the old elastic cord that held it shut, and flipped it open, descending into the stories that his mum, when she was a little girl, had decided were important enough to share.

—

February 14th, 1972

Dear Diary,

I don’t really understand the appeal of Valentine’s Day. Daddy always goes above and beyond for the holiday, making all of his heart shaped desserts and stuff, and everyone goes mad for them, but I just don’t get it.

Mama said that it's because it's a day to celebrate love, but why can’t we do that every day?

Gramps thinks I have the right idea. Gran does too.

I think Daddy does, but Mama keeps making weird faces at him.

It keeps making Gramps upset, but he won’t tell me why, cuz I’m too young, but I don’t think I’m that young anymore! I’m nearly 10!

Anyways, school was boring today. We had a party to celebrate and everyone got lots of Valentines.

I think I want to burn mine.

Love,

Fiona

-

November 1st, 1972

Dear Diary,

Last night was Halloween! Gran and Gramps took me out to a celebration in the forest with some of Gramps’ friends. They told Mama and Daddy that they were taking me trick or treating, but I had way more fun at the forest party.

But, now everyone’s fighting again, and I’m hiding up here with you.

Mama keeps screaming about how they’re corrupting me, but I don’t think something that pretty is bad, is it?

I have a necklace made of twine, now, and the old lady who gave it to me said that bad spirits won’t touch me as long as I have it on, so I’m gonna leave it on until it falls off, I think.

Daddy’s coming up the stairs.

I think we’re gonna go to the beach, so I gotta go.

Love,

Fiona

-

September 1st, 1975

Dear Diary,

We have some new students from a boy’s home at the school, and one of them looks really familiar. He has dark hair, and dark eyes.

I think I’ve dreamt about him before.

Love,

Fiona

-

September 2nd, 1975

Dear Diary,

His name is Gideon. Gideon Hartford.

I think I like him a lot.

Love, Fiona

-

January 31st, 1976

Dear Diary,

Gid’s thirteenth birthday was yesterday, and I brought him a cupcake at school to celebrate. He cried out of happiness.

I don’t like it when he cries, even when he’s happy.

He wasn’t at school today, and I know he mentioned that some of the boys at his home were getting kinda rough with him, and the others.

I think I’m gonna bring a first aid kit with me tomorrow, just in case.

Love, Fiona

-

July 19th, 1976

Dear Diary,

Mama found out that Gid and I are friends. She tried to tell me that I shouldn’t hang out around him, that he’s a bad influence, but I don’t think he is.

Yeah, he smokes, but he refuses to share them with me. I’ve seen him drink a beer, but he doesn’t let me have a sip.

He says I’m too ‘good’, and that even though he likes me, he’s not gonna let me do anything that could hurt me.

Daddy likes him, though, so that’s why I keep hanging out with him.

This weekend, we’re gonna go out shooting. He wants to teach me how to hunt, and so I know how to fire a gun, since I’m turning thirteen this year. He wanted to wait, but Gramps said that he wanted to make sure I know how to shoot before he dies, which, I think is weird.

Gramps isn’t gonna die any time soon, so I don’t know why he keeps being so ominous about it.

I’m excited, though.

Love,

Fiona

-

July 24th, 1976

I killed a deer today.

I can’t get the blood off of my hands.

I feel sick.

-

January 1st, 1977

Gramps died last night.

Last thing he ever did was come into my room, kiss the top of my head, and say that he loved me, and that he was proud of me.

I told him I loved him too.

I’m glad that they were my last words to him, but now I… Now I don’t know what to do.

Gran hasn’t stopped sobbing, Daddy hasn’t been able to move from his spot on the sofa, and Mum won’t stop cooking.

I had to help the morgue people get up to his body, because nobody else could do it.

I think I’m gonna go downstairs and open up the shop. I don’t think Gramps would have wanted it to stay closed, not on a day like this.

I miss you already, Gramps. I love you.

-

January 16th, 1977

Gran’s dead too.

Broken heart, is what everyone thinks.

Gid came by last night to check on me. Mum was out at the store, and Daddy let him in. He let me sob into his chest for what felt like hours, and he never once tried to stop me.

He’s a good man, even if my Mum doesn’t like him.

I don’t care what she thinks of him. He’s my best friend. I think I would die without him.

-

March 18th, 1979

Dear Diary,

I’m in love with him. I love Gid, and he loves me too.

We told Mum and Daddy last night. He’s overjoyed for us, but she got that sour look on her face that she always gets when Gid’s around, and didn’t say much.

Daddy joked that he couldn’t wait to walk me down the aisle, and that started another fight.

Gid took me out on a walk so I didn’t have to be around it.

He told me about what he did to that other boy, how it was an accident. He said that he didn’t want to keep anything from me, and that I deserved to know every inch of him, even the awful parts.

I love him even more, now.

Love,

Fiona

-

January 30th, 1980

Dear Diary,

Gid asked me to marry him.

If I was anyone else, if he was anyone else, I think I would have said no. But because I’m me, and he’s him, I said yes.

He got emancipated, it was easier than staying in the boys home. He has a job over at the tattoo parlor, just up the street. Once he’s eighteen, they’ll let him become an apprentice.

His art is beautiful. He’d be a great tattoo artist.

I’m telling Daddy tonight. I know he’ll sign off on the papers.

We’re young, but I love him, and I know that’s enough.

Love,

The Future Fiona Hartford

-

July 31st, 1980

I had a strange dream last night. A red haired woman and a dark haired man had a baby, and he has the most beautiful green eyes.

His mother’s eyes.

He’s so loved, but it’s not going to last long.

That poor baby… I wish I could help him. Protect him.

He’s too young to suffer.

-

December 5th, 1980

Gid and I got married yesterday. It was small, and there was almost no one there. Daddy signed off on the papers, and Mum didn’t come at all.

Before we left the courthouse, Daddy pulled Gid aside, and told him to take care of me, no matter what. He didn’t let us leave until Gid promised.

I didn’t know why until we got back home this morning.

He shot himself. Left a note leaving everything to Gid and I.

Gid’s cleaning the blood and brains off the wall while I write this.

I don’t know where Mum is, but I called Ma and Pa, over in Glasgow, and told them what happened. They asked if I needed them, but I told them to stay in case Mum shows up.

…I’m gonna open up the coffee shop tomorrow.

-

July 31st, 1984

Dear Diary,

Gid and I are gonna sign up to be foster parents next year. At least one of us needs to be 23 for that.

Mum called me last night. She has cancer.

I asked her to move back in so I can take care of her, but she said no.

It’s strange, knowing I’m going to be an orphan.

Gid says it's not that bad, but I know he’s just trying to make me feel better.

And I keep dreaming about that green eyed boy. He’s scared.

He’s always scared.

He’s stuck in a closet. A broom closet.

I wish I could let him out.

Love,

Fiona

-

February 14th, 1985

I knew Valentine’s Day sucked.

Mama’s dead. We’re burying her with Daddy tomorrow.

Peacefully, in her sleep.

That’s all I wanted for her.

…I’m tired.

-

June 8th, 1986

Dear Diary,

His name is Harry Potter. The green eyed little boy from my dreams that I’ve been seeing. Born on July 31st, 1980, and… And he’s safe. He’s with Gid and I.

Oh, he’s an angel. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I know he’s supposed to be mine and Gid’s.

He’s safe with us, and Gid loves him just as much as I do.

Our very first foster placement, and I don’t want to ever give him back.

Love,

Fiona

-

June 9th, 1987

Dear Diary,

He’s ours, now. Harry James Hartford.

He called me Mum this morning.

I can’t stop crying.

-

December 25th, 1987

Dear Diary,

He loves the stars, and he loves when Gid draws on him like he’s getting his own little tattoos.

He can do things like Gramps said his siblings could do.

I think Harry might be magic.

And oh, how wonderful would that be?

I lost magic when Gramps and Daddy died. I lost all of it. I stopped seeing the light, and the happiness that was in the world, because they were what made life magical for me.

But now I have Harry, and seeing him experience the world like this? With the magic that he so obviously has in his little body?

It’s brought that back.

I don’t think I can ever tell him how much he truly means to me. How he’s brought back a part of me that I thought I’d lost forever.

I haven’t been this happy in years.

Thank you, Harry.

Mummy loves you.

—

Harry blinked the tears away from his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tucked the rest of the diaries into his bag.

His mum had… She’d known about him. She’d had dreams about him, over and over again.

She’d mentioned that she’d had weird dreams like that for years. Ever since she was a little kid. It was just... Strange, to think that she had known about him. About everything.

There was a part of him that wondered if she had known everything that would happen, but just never said anything.

He could go through the rest of them later. Everything he had already read was… It was almost too much.

Lucius just got back with lunch, and he didn’t want it to get cold.

So, he began to make his way back down the stairs, smiling at the blonde man, who excitedly showed off his Chinese food haul. He was about to explain what he had discovered, but…

No, that could wait a few minutes longer.

He was ravenous, anyways.

But, once he ate?

He couldn’t wait to show Lucius what he had found.

Chapter Text

Harry’s new antidepressant potion caused, quite possibly, some of the strangest side effects that any of his friends had ever seen.

Some days were better than others, especially when it came to his moods. He had mornings where he woke up and had to literally drag himself out of bed, and others where he was up and moving before the sun was even slightly awake.

Most of the time, he went ahead and made sure his homework was done, his belongings were put away, and then he would settle down and start reading through more of his Mum’s journals, making notes about what they said, and cross referencing them with what he already knew to be true.

Sometimes, that put him in a worse mood, especially when it came to the sadder entries on the list, but he didn’t care enough to stop.

Not when it was that important.

So, his friends all quickly adjusted to the rapidly changing moods.

Although that morning’s sudden bout of wild energy did come at a cost, considering the fact that Harry, very suddenly, decided that every single pair of dress robes he owned were uncomfortable, didn’t fit, or he just hated them.

Which was leading to the wild, and rather violent, destruction of the dorm room as he tried to find any piece of clothing that would be even slightly bearable for him to wear.

And the fact that it was happening the day of the Yule Ball wasn’t helping, not in the slightest.

Robes, shirts, pants and cloaks were strewn about as he ripped through his trunk, shoes were flying, and, most terrifying of all, books were being hucked, full force, across the room.

Blaise dropped just in time, just barely able to avoid the large tome that came flying towards his head, as he approached his friend.

“Harry? Mate, you alright?” He asked softly, tilting his head as he knelt down next to his friend, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Y-yeah…” Harry rasped out, sniffling a bit as he wiped his eyes. “God, I’m sorry. I’m being a psycho right now…”

“You’re fine. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, yeah, I just… I don’t feel normal. My emotions are still all… Up and down, and…”

Blaise nodded, sitting down the rest of the way and flicking his hand about, carefully summoning all of the books and clothing items back over to them, each article folding itself up again. Harry smiled a bit.

“You’re getting good at that, you know? Wandless magic, I mean.” He said, shuffling down onto his arse and leaning against his friend, his eyes still slightly red and puffy as he wrapped his arms around his friend’s. “You’ve come really far in such a short amount of time…”

“I had a damn good teacher, is why.” Blaise murmured with a grin. “I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as I have without you.”

“Still…”

“Don’t put yourself down.” He replied simply, using his free hand to swat Harry’s head. “You’re brilliant, jackass. Now… Do you want my help solving your fashion dilemma?”

“I’m half ready to just not go to the fucking ball.”

“Nuh-uh. The rest of us are going, so you are too. So, let’s lay out all your dress robes, and we’ll put together something comfy, and cool looking. Want me to get Daphne too?”

“No, no… Her and Theo are helping Hermione figure out what she wants to do with her hair. It’s a process.”

“Alright, so it’s just us for this? Cool.”

And with that, Blaise stood up, unfolded all of Harry’s dressier clothes, and laid them out on his bed, standing back and looking at them.

“You have plenty of good bases.” He said softly, helping Harry up to his feet so they could look at it all together. “It’s just… A matter of what we want to do with it.”

“I know I have good bases. I have so many bases. And options!” Harry groaned, rubbing his face. “I just hate all of them right now…”

“Okay, well, let’s see what else we have…”

He carefully made his way over to his friend’s trunk, starting to dig through it for a moment until he found a few more robes and shirts.

And, beneath all of that, he found a delicately wrapped, brown paper package, with a note tied to the top.

“Hey… What’s this?” Blaise asked softly, carefully lifting the package out of the trunk and walking over to Harry, handing it to him. It was soft, and squishy, like it was filled with fabric, but he wasn’t going to open something that was in his friend’s trunk.

“I have… No idea.” Harry frowned, setting the package on his bed and grabbing the note, unfolding it to read it. After a moment, his frown flipped upside down, and he smiled. “It’s from Kreacher. Here.”

When he handed him the note, Blaise immediately began to read, while he opened up the package itself.

The elf’s shaky cursive was hard to read at first, but, once his eyes were able to adjust to it, he couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face.

-

Master Harry,

Miss Cissy has told Kreacher that on Christmas Day, Master Harry will be attending his first proper ball. While Kreacher is very, very displeased at the fact that he and Winky will not be able to prepare the young master himself for the ball, we house elves can still help.

Kreacher has enclosed robes that he has deemed most suitable for an Heir of four Noble and Ancient Houses, and he hopes that Master Harry finds them comfortable, and pleasant to wear.

Kreacher and Winky also request that photos of the Young Masters and Missies at the ball be sent to them if possible, so we can hang them in our den.

Thank you, Master Harry, and take care.

Much adoringly,

Kreacher, House Elf of the most Noble and Ancient House of Black

-

“Oh, that’s so-” Blaise began to say as he lifted his head, before his eyes went wide at the sight of the dress robes in Harry’s hands.

They were a deep, midnight blue, with the top being skin tight and the pants loose and baggy for comfort. From what he could see, they were open-backed, with a silvery, sheer sort of cloak to wrap around the arms and cover the exposed skin. Long, black gloves were there to cover the hands, with a small, jeweled loop for the cloak to attach to at the wrist.

When Harry turned them into the light, however, the midnight blue fabric shifted into a deep emerald, and then a dark violet, like a serpent’s scales.

“...It’s beautiful.” He breathed out, his eyes wide. “I’m… Gonna go try it on.”

Blaise nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. Holy shit, Harry…”

His friend quickly dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him so that he could get changed properly. He waited for a moment, mostly to see if he would call out for some sort of assistance, but when no shouts for help came, he simply leaned up against the post of his bed, watching the bathroom door with interest.

Harry emerged after a moment, his eyes wide as he smoothed his hands over the fabric, a bright grin forming on his face.

“...How do I look?” He asked quietly.

And, Blaise couldn’t lie.

He looked beautiful.

“It’s perfect.” He chuckled a bit, walking over as his friend shuffled over to the mirror, looking at himself in amazement. He carefully adjusted the cloak, attaching it to his wrists and shoulders to make sure it did cover his back a bit. “You’re going to outshine all of the other champions, you know.”

“Oh, please. I think only the sun can outshine Fleur and Cedric.” Harry snorted. “And Viktor would prefer to be outshone. Draco said that he changed his entire outfit to compliment his own, so…”

“Still. Theo’s going to lose his mind when he sees you. I can’t wait to watch every last brain cell fall out of his head.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. That boy is so in love with you…”

“I love him too.” He smiled a bit, before turning to look at Blaise. “That reminds me… Who are you taking, again?”

“Technically, I’m taking Luna.” He said. “That way she can go with us. But I’m also escorting Hermione, because she told the few people who asked her to, quote unquote, fuck right off, because they all asked her around the full moon.”

“Ah, that tracks… Are you guys matching?”

“Nope. I have no clue what Lue is wearing, but I’m wearing one of my Dad’s sets that Mamma had tailored for me.”

Harry gasped. “Can I see?”

“Yeah, of course.” Blaise smiled. “Come on, it’s over here in the wardrobe.”

The two of them quickly hurried over to the wardrobe, starting to go through the different pieces of the dress robes that his mother had sent for him.

Truth be told, he couldn’t wait for the ball, especially since his best friend was back to being excited for the damn thing.

He just hoped it all went off without a hitch.

—

The entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open for the ball. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another, while the students who had dates from the same house were arriving as couples already, arm in arm, quietly chattering their excitement and giggling over their clothes.

Daphne and Neville, of course, were a pair. He was wearing a simple set of sleek, black dress robes- lacking a tie, but he almost never wore them anymore- that was lined with honey-yellow satin on the inside. His hair was slicked back, and tied in a small knot at the base of his neck, and he looked like quite the dapper young man as he stood next to his date.

Daph’s a-line, emerald green and honey yellow, faded lace gown flattered her perfectly, and her usually pin straight hair had been curled and tied up into an intricate style, held up with hair sticks that, oddly enough, had a small badger charm on them.

Harry had never seen that set, before, but once he saw the way her chest stuttered every time Neville’s hand brushed her own, and the way her gaze softened into something different whenever he would look the other way, he realized exactly why.

It was her way of, indirectly, telling everyone that she wasn’t interested.

Well, at least in anyone outside of the Hufflepuff at her side.

Luna and Hermione were both wearing periwinkle blue, an accidental choice, but one that they were rolling with as they were going as a triad with Blaise. The former was wearing a silk, slip style dress, while the latter’s was a sort of floaty, floor length material that made it seem like she was gliding across the floor instead of walking.

Their date, Blaise, was wearing white dress robes with a periwinkle shirt, matching the girls’ dresses, that was decorated with silver trim, and the Zabini Family Crest around his neck.

Viktor still hadn’t arrived, mostly because the Durmstrang students hadn’t, but Draco looked almost unearthly in his silver, draped robes, his hair loose for once and falling down around his face. He kept smiling nervously at Harry, who had all but pressed himself up against Theo, whose own dress robes were the same simple style that Neville was wearing.

“You think he’ll be here soon, right?” Draco asked quietly, and Theo nodded firmly.

“He will. Honestly? Karkaroff is probably the one keeping them. He’s gotta get that goatee twirled perfectly.”

Harry snorted at that, shivering a bit as his boyfriend’s cold fingers slid up under the sheer cloak that he was wearing, running over the exposed skin of his back protectively.

Draco nodded once again, and was about to open his mouth to speak, but the heavy front doors of the castle opened, and the Durmstrang students all entered, with a majority of them dressed in shades of red while Viktor, leading the pack, was in all black.

He quickly made his way over to his date, his expression softening as he quietly apologized for being late, and for worrying him.

It took Harry a moment to realize he had said all of that in Bulgarian.

Apparently, Theo’s constant quiet murmuring in his mother tongue was doing more to teach him than he thought.

Draco immediately relaxed at the sight of his boyfriend, standing on his toes and kissing him softly, which led Theo to lean down and kiss Harry as well, before Headmistress McGonagall’s voice rang out over the chatter.

“Champions! Over here, if you would!”

McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside.

They were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur, who had chosen Roger Davies- the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain- as her date, simply nodded, pointedly ignoring the dumb way that the boy was staring at her, like he couldn’t quite believe that he had landed her as a date. Cedric and Cho were next, and Harry nodded politely to the both of them. Viktor and Draco were after that, their arms linked as they quietly crooned at one another in the adoring way they both had started doing only a couple days before.

That left himself, and Theo, at the end of the line, and he just kept his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, humming softly to himself as they waited.

When the doors to the Great Hall opened, and the students all began to file in, many of them paused to gawk at the Champions for one reason or another.

Viktor’s fan club, who, up until that point, hadn’t realized that the young man in question was in a relationship, were shooting such vile glares at Draco that it was all Harry could do to not jump up and throttle them each.

He settled on stinging hexes instead, although they didn’t get his anger across as well as he would have liked.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

Well, the judges, sans Crouch. Although there was a familiar looking redhead sitting where he was supposed to be.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished, and instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people surrounding a large, ornate dance floor.

McGonagall stopped them, however, in the center of the large floor, and the champions all took their positions. Theo’s hand rested gently on Harry’s waist, and his on the other’s shoulder.

He was leading, after all, because Harry had two left feet and he didn’t quite want to risk tripping and falling on his face.

A soft waltz began playing from a large gramophone, manned by Mr. Filch, and the four couples all began to dance.

Whenever Harry tried to look at his feet, or around at the people watching them, Theo would gently pull his attention back to him.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

“Ah-ah, eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“C’mon, Красив. I said keep your eyes on me.”

And if he ever said that those words didn’t make his stomach flip, then he was a filthy fucking liar.

He could hear Draco’s soft laughter from a few feet away as the two of them spun, and they caught each other’s eyes, a grin spreading across their faces.

Theo dropped him into a dip, and Harry let himself go, his head falling back and nearly knocking his glasses clean off.

He was thankful they didn’t fall, however, as that would have made him miss the sight of Luna, in her periwinkle glory, padding over to the gramophone and quickly switching out the record.

His confusion lasted for only a moment, before the waltz stopped, and the all too familiar sounds of ABBA’s Dancing Queen filled the air.

Harry let out a startled laugh, and Theo pulled him right back up, the two of them descending into giggles as, now that the music had been hijacked, the rest of the students all filed onto the dance floor, twirling and shimmying and just having a blast.

In the corner, he could see Sirius and Volkov both swaying to the music, singing along loudly as they both nursed drinks. His godfather winked at him, a wide grin on his face, before he left their Transfiguration professor and took Sinistra’s hand, leading her into a rather interesting looking tango, which sent her into a fit of giggles as they cut across the dance floor.

Neville and Daphne were singing along as well, their hands twined together as they almost swung each other back and forth.

Filch and McGonagall seemed to be trying to put the waltz record back on, but, gave up after a few moments, neither one of them having spotted Luna tucking the record safely under the Headmistress’ plate at the judge’s table.

Harry turned back to Theo, grabbing his face and kissing him happily.

“Merry Christmas, Theo. And thank you for suffering through this with me.” He grinned.

“Merry Christmas, Harry. There’s no one else I would rather suffer through a party with.”

“When do you wanna ditch and go makeout in a closet?”

“...Thirty minutes. I’m starving, but I don’t think I can handle running my fingers over your back like this without going insane for much longer than that.”

“Sweet. I am too.” Harry laughed a bit, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the buffet table, carefully dancing their way through the crowd.

And, considering the fact that only a few hours before, he’d been so hell bent on not going to this fucking party.

—

“I thought I’d find you out here.” Neville chuckled a bit as he walked over to Daphne, drinks in hand as he smiled at her. She smiled back, reaching up and taking one from him as he sat down on the large stone steps next to her.

The night air was freezing cold, but she was sweaty and exhausted from dancing, so it was a welcome relief after the chaos that the night had held.

“Sorry for ditching.” She said quietly. “I just needed a moment.”

“No, no, I get it. Just took me a second to find you, is all.” He smiled, looking out at the grounds as he sipped his punch, cringing a bit and gagging. “Oh- Merlin. Don’t drink it. Someone spiked it.”

She let out a soft, startled laugh at that, taking her own sip and having much of the same reaction.

Firewhisky. Never pleasant.

“Merlin’s pants- That’s foul.”

“It’s so bad. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t be! You were just trying to be nice! It’s not your fault someone snuck booze into the party!”

“What’s that about booze?” Sirius asked from behind them, startling them both as they whipped around. He put his hands up in a mock surrender, smiling a bit as he walked over. “No, seriously, is the punch spiked? I heard a couple of kids complaining, but the second I went to ask them, they got all startled and ran off.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s completely spiked.” Daphne nodded, handing him her cup. He took a small sip and cringed.

“Ick… It’s not even the good stuff. It’s cheap. You can tell because of how fake tasting that cinnamon is…”

“Seriously? Judging the alcohol choices of dumb teenagers at a party?”

“Always!” Sirius said, affronted. “At least when I was a teenager I splurged for the good shit during our Gryffindor parties!”

“Oh, right. I always forget you’re a damn Gryffindor.” Daphne grinned, pointing at him accusingly. “Filthy lion.”

“Suspicious snake.”

They shared a soft giggle at that, before the older man reached down and gently ruffled both of their hairs.

“Don’t stay out here much longer, okay? You’ll catch your deaths. I don’t think Harry would appreciate that.”

“Yes, Professor.” Neville smiled a bit, and he nodded, heading back into the castle and leaving the two teenagers to their own devices. They sat quietly for a moment, cups of punch left forgotten at their sides, before Daphne spoke up again.

“...Hey, Nev?”

“Yeah, Daph?”

“Can I… Ask you something..?” She asked softly, wringing her hands a bit as she turned to look at him.

“Oh, of course.”

She nodded a bit, wrapping her arms around herself as she took a deep breath.

“Remember last Yule, when we were talking about… My mother, and all that stuff..?”

“Mhm. You were really upset.” He replied with a frown, his eyes becoming worried. “Oh no, has she said something else? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just… When we were talking, we sorta got on the subject of you marrying me in case she tries to marry me off, and, you know… We said that it wouldn’t be anything more than being best friends..?”

Neville nodded slowly, studying her worriedly as he reached out and gently grabbed her hand.

“Daphne… What’s wrong..?”

Her face flushed a bit as his calloused fingers laced with hers, squeezing her hand ever so slightly in an effort to comfort her.

Her breath hitched, her eyes going wide as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

Damn these feelings!

“...What if I… What if I wanted it to be as… More than friends..?” She stammered out after a moment, her throat tightening as panic rose in her chest. There were tears stinging her eyes as she spoke, catching on her lashes and dragging thin lines of eyeliner down her cheeks when they finally spilled. “I-... I know you said that you weren’t into girls, and… And I understand if you… You still aren’t, but-”

Daphne’s voice caught in her throat as Neville’s free hand reached up, his thumb gently wiping away the tears on her cheeks, his mouth pulled into the gentle smile that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“Daph…” He breathed out. “...I said that I wasn’t sure I liked anyone. But I… I think I might like you…”

“Oh.” She whispered, her eyes going wide as her mind tried to catch up with what he’d just told her. “You..?”

“...Can I kiss you..?”

She nodded, just a bit, her heart still racing.

He leaned in gently, his hand gently cupping her cheek, and her eyes fell closed as he pressed their lips together.

It was soft, and gentle, and so… Tender.

Neville held her as though she were a freshly bloomed flower. One that needed to be protected, and shielded from the world.

Normally, she hated that. She hated being treated like she was weak.

But with him?

…Daphne felt like it was okay to be a little bit weak.

Just a little.

Chapter Text

Being a werewolf, truthfully, wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Granted, Hermione wasn’t the typical sort of werewolf.

From what she knew, most people who became afflicted with lycanthropy were shunned by society, forced to live on the dregs of it, barely able to support themselves unless they still had a not-turned family member.

Remus was an exception, too. From the letters the two of them had exchanged, she knew that he was turned as a child by Fenrir Greyback, who targeted children in particular, after his father had made some unsavory comments about lycanthropes.

Sins of the father, is the only way she could think to put it.

Even if it didn’t have a lick of sense to it. A five year old boy should not be punished for the mistakes of a grown man.

In fact, Remus was the first werewolf to have ever been admitted to Hogwarts, and that fact had been kept a secret from the rest of the school.

That is, until Harry’s biological father James, Sirius, and the Traitor discovered his secret, and instead of shunning him for it, they did everything they could to help take care of him.

Even becoming Animagi.

But, even still, Hermione had better luck than he did.

She had her friends who never once made her feel bad about being a werewolf. They adjusted their lives without complaint, going out of their way to make sure she was comfortable and safe for every transformation.

Lucius, Narcissa, and the Contessa Zabini went above and beyond for her as well, helping to supply ingredients for her wolfsbane potions, and sending extra snacks and treats around the full moon so she would feel better.

It was so… Simple.

They didn’t treat it like a big deal, they didn’t mourn the fact that she wasn’t a human anymore, they didn’t act like she was a different person.

She was herself, that hadn’t changed, she just had to go through hell once a month.

And everyone else made sure that the hell she went through was just a little bit more bearable.

It didn’t take away from the fact that other people still saw her as a monster, or that she was still shunned by her housemates out of fear, but…

She didn’t give a damn about them, anyways.

But, that behavior did cause her to delve into her own personal projects.

After she started S.P.E.W., in an effort to make sure that house elves were treated kindly, fairly, and with the respect they deserved as members of society, she began delving deeper into the laws and treaties that were created by wixen for the other magical sorts of creatures that existed in the world.

And she did not like what she fucking saw.

Most of them had little to no rights, and many of them, werewolves included, weren’t even provided with proper support that would make their lives that much easier.

It enraged her.

Beyond fucking belief, it enraged her.

Which is why she was holed up in the library on boxing day, as many wixen law books as she could possibly find piled up around her, and her very own Quick-Notes Quill- courtesy of Draco, the angel he is- writing down everything she quietly said to it in her own handwriting on the, admittedly, massive roll of parchment she was using to collect her thoughts.

Thoughts that were only broken by the arrival of a new friend.

“Hermione?” Fleur asked softly, hugging her books closer to her chest, and startling the younger girl mid sentence and making her jolt a bit. “Sorry, I did not mean to-”

“You’re okay.” She quickly reassured her. “It’s okay. I just didn’t hear you coming. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could sit with you. I would rather sit with someone who would let me have some peace and quiet than ogle me like a piece of meat.”

She sent a pointed glare over her shoulder, where Hermione could see a group of seventh year boys quickly ducking back behind bookshelves, pretending they weren’t there. She let out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head a bit, before smiling up at Fleur.

“Please. I’d love some company.”

The French girl smiled in relief, taking a seat across from her and setting down her own pile of books. It took Hermione only a moment to scan each of the titles, and she raised a brow in curiosity.

“You have a copy of Concerning the Black Arts?” She asked softly. “Theo has one, too. He’s reading it constantly.”

Fleur flushed a bit, and nodded. “I do, yes. At Beauxbatons, we have an elective course on Dark Magic.”

“Really? I thought that it would have been phased out… France is so…”

“Progressive?”

“Exactly.”

“We are, but that does not mean we do not hold our traditions close to our chest. We learn how to defend against Dark Magic, of course, but we also are allowed to learn it. Your enemies do not care if you are a child, after all.”

Hermione nodded a bit, shaking her head. “It makes perfect sense, you know? Learning Dark Spells and such… I don’t know if I would be able to cast them, myself, but…”

“I think you would have an easier time than you think.” Fleur replied with a smile. “You are a Dark Creature, are you not?”

She froze, looking at the other girl with a twinge of mistrust. “...Yes. I’m a werewolf.”

Then, to her surprise, she back tracked.

“Ah, apologies, I did not mean to offend.” Fleur said quickly. “I have no problems with it, after all, I am not quite human either.”

Hermione relaxed, just a bit. She had honestly forgotten that Fleur was part Veela, simply because her only experiences with the creatures had been at a distance during the World Cup.

“Right, right… Veela blood.”

“Exactly. I am very sorry, I do not want you to think that I…”

“View me as a monster?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s fine, Fleur.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Either way, my entire house looks at me like a monster. It’s why I sleep in the Slytherin dorms, now…”

“I have been wondering about that.” Fleur nodded a bit, flicking through one of her books and opening it to a specific page. “You and your friends are the only ones who mingle between houses.”

“Yeah… Slytherin gets a lot of hate here at Hogwarts, but truth be told? I haven’t… I haven’t been so readily accepted before as I am with them. They don’t question my weirdness, or anything I do.”

“They seem to be the most sane of the four. It is strange, when we were on our way here, Madame Maxine said that we should be wary of the Slytherins.”

“Let me guess. Mini Death Eaters? All of them are evil?”

“Yes!” Fleur said, throwing her hands up, and earning them both a sharp hush from Madam Pince. They both shot an apologetic look back at her, before they lowered their voices and continued their conversation. “She said that Slytherins would be very very cruel, and would look down on me, and some of the other girls, for not being ‘proper wixen’.”

“There’s the occasional bad egg, but there’s some in every house.” Hermione shook her head. “Pansy Parkinson comes to mind. She’s not outwardly cruel to me, but she’s not kind either…”

“The girl with the horrible bob?”

“Yeah, her.”

“She is rude. I am not a fan of her.”

She giggled a bit, covering her mouth as she tried to muffle the sound.

“I cannot believe you and I have not had a proper conversation one on one before.” Fleur scoffed, shaking her head. “You are an absolute delight to talk to. I already knew you were brilliant, but knowing that you are sociable as well is a relief.”

“I-... Thank you, Fleur. That’s… That’s very kind.”

“Now… As I do not quite feel like working on my own assignments right now, what are you doing?”

“Oh! Uh-” Hermione quickly scrambled to grab her roll of parchment, looking at where she left off. “I’ve been researching the laws and rights that different non-human magical creatures have. You know, the ones like you and me, who are still totally human, just…”

“Not quite, at the same time?” The blonde girl offered.

“Exactly. I’m looking for resources that detail the laws and rights that protect them in other countries, so I can compare them to the British Ministry’s laws. Once I have everything compiled, I’m planning on sending it to Minister Bones as an official plea for change.”

Fleur’s eyebrows raised, and a grin spread across her lips.

“...I would love to assist you, if you would have me. France, as you know, is very progressive, and Papa is a lawyer. I am sure he would be more than happy to assist us, if need be.”

Hermione felt her own devious grin spread across her lips as she stood up, moving around the table to sit next to the other girl, bringing her books and other research materials around.

“I would be glad to have you, Fleur. Now, let me show you what I have so far…”

—

Breakfast was a quiet affair, as most of the school was still relaxing after the Yule Ball and Christmas. Many students had gone home the day after the ball, wanting to spend at least a little bit of time with their families, but because of the fact that Narcissa and Lucius were ‘attending to some business’ and the Contessa had to ‘deal with another fucking idiotic diplomat’, Hermione and the rest of the coven remained at the school.

In fact, in her efforts to continue her magical creature rights efforts, Hermione had asked Neville to explain how to get into the Hogwarts kitchens so she could go down and speak to the House Elves within.

But, that line of thinking was quickly stopped by the arrival of a familiar, beautiful face.

“Have you seen Rita Skeeter’s utter drivel?” Fleur asked as she walked over to the breakfast table, veins bulging in her neck from anger and her blue eyes almost glowing with rage. She tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet upon the table as she sat down, and Harry picked it up first, a frown forming on his face as he read what she was showing them.

“Jesus Christ… She’s going after Hagrid?” He asked quietly, before passing the paper around the rest of the group. “I mean, really, I think we all knew he was part giant… But putting it like this? It’s…”

Hermione’s heart began to pound as Daphne passed her the newspaper, her eyes quickly scanning the article as fury boiled in her chest.

Skeeter’s articles were about as distasteful as a rotten fruit, but the way she insulted people for something completely outside of their control made her want to rip the bitch’s head off.

She grit her teeth as she reread the article, making sure she seared every last word into her memory.

-

To say that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has always had its eclectic tastes with the people it employs is an understatement. With Gilderoy Lockhart, may he rest in peace, two years ago, as well as a dangerous werewolf just last year, it should be no surprise that they’ve made yet another foul choice.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the former headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

And, has kept that job during the transitional period to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While the rest of the school turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being “very frightening.”

“One student was maimed by a Hippogriff last year,” said fourth year Ravenclaw Terry Boot. “And I’ve been bitten by Flobberworms and stung by Skrewts.”

Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed “Blast-Ended Skrewts.” which are highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire-crabs.

The creation of new breeds of magical creatures is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.

“I was just having some fun,” He says, before hastily changing the subject.

As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not- as he has always pretended- a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human.

His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.

Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.

While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa’s son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.

Unfortunately, it seems as though nothing will be done about the fact that this… Man, is the one teaching the young wixen at Hogwarts how to deal with the dangerous creatures that fill the world, and I fear that nothing good will come from it.

-

“That foul, loathesome, evil little bint!” Hermione snapped, slamming the paper down in anger as she stood up, a low growl escaping her throat as she tried, and failed, to keep her anger contained. “Why does she even get to write this drivel?!”

“She writes opinion pieces, as well as tabloids.” Neville sighed. “So, technically, everything she says is just… Opinion. I already researched it to see if we could sue for libel, but the fact that she’s correct about the fact that Hagrid’s a half-giant means that its not.”

“Bullshit!” She huffed. “There has to be something that can be done! She was talking so much shit about Hagrid, and she even threw Remus under the bus, too! How long until she goes into something completely and utterly-”

“Miss Granger?” Professor Volkov asked, snapping her out of her rage filled stupor. The older man made his way over to them, his hands tucked into his pockets as he raised a brow, looking at the newspaper she had slapped onto the table. “Something in the Prophet?”

“Skeeter just exposed Hagrid as being half giant.” Daphne said quietly. “As if that matters.”

“Quite right.” The professor nodded, but frowned more. “And this angers you, Miss Granger?”

“Of course it does! She repeatedly described Hagrid as being dangerous, and a monster! He’s nothing of the sort! And she wouldn’t stop saying that we were at risk, even though none of us have gotten too badly injured! Yes, Hagrid has made mistakes, but-”

Volkov didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he picked up the newspaper, reading the article as his frown deepened even further.

“...Racist bitch.” He muttered under his breath, tucking the paper under his arm and nodding to the students. “Not to worry, Miss Granger. I will go make sure that our dear friend Hagrid is alright… And I will see what I can do about Skeeter, as well. She is not supposed to be on campus, and I cannot imagine how on earth she got this damned information.”

Hermione paused, looking at him in surprise. She… Hadn’t expected her Head of House to take this all so seriously.

She wasn’t able to say anything, however, as he quickly made his way away from the table after bidding everyone adieu, and disappeared out of the doors to the hall without another word.

“...He’s been acting odd recently, hasn’t he?” Draco hummed a bit, turning to look at Luna. “Think it’s a concern?”

“Nope.” The younger girl replied, mixing a large spoonful of sugar into her tea. “He’s just looking out for us. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay.”

Hermione snorted a bit, carefully sitting back down and looking over at Fleur.

“Thank you for bringing that to me. I’m sorry I flipped out.” She said softly, and the other girl shook her head.

“Nonsense. I simply needed to make sure I was not overreacting. That anger was exactly what I wanted to see.”

“Good. Now…” She turned back towards Neville, looking at him seriously. “How do you get into the Hogwarts kitchens again?”

Her friend smiled a bit. “Tickle the pear, ‘Mionie. You have to tickle the pear.”

“...Well that’s fucking cryptic.”

—

She did, in fact, have to tickle the pear.

It was a painting of a bowl of fruit, and, amazingly, the painted pear giggled when she gently stroked its side.

Magic was absolutely ridiculous sometimes, but, Hermione did still adore it.

Fleur climbed in through the painting behind her, the two of them carrying parchment and quills to take notes and interview the elves, and they both looked around in mild amazement.

Before they could even locate anyone to speak to, a small, female elf approached, smiling brightly with an expression of the delight on her face.

“What can Mipsy do for the young missies?” She asked, and Hermione knelt down, holding out her hand for the elf to take.

“Hello, Mipsy. My name is Hermione, and this is my friend Fleur.” She chuckled. “If it’s no trouble, I was wondering if the two of us could ask you some questions? Just, about how you like working here at Hogwarts.”

“Oh! You must be Missy Hermione!” Mipsy gasped softly. “Young Master Neville has spoken of you before. Be making an organization to help the house elves have more protections, aren’t you?”

“That I am.” Hermione smiled. “And Fleur is helping me… So, if you don’t mind..?”

“Oh, not one bit, Missy Hermione! Mipsy be very happy to help the missies with their organization.”

“Thank you so much, Mipsy.” Fleur smiled. “Would it be alright if we sat down? We will not take too long, we would hate to pull you away from your work.”

Mipsy nodded, snapping her fingers and summoning a table, three chairs, and a tray of tea and biscuits over in the corner so they could all sit down, letting the two girls sit first before she climbed up as well. Fleur poured everyone tea, and the elf looked surprised when she handed her a cup.

After a moment, Hermione had her parchment and quill ready, and she nodded at her friend, who pulled out their carefully prepared list of questions.

“It is the afternoon of December Twenty-Eighth, 1994. We are located in the Hogwarts Kitchens, speaking to Mipsy the House Elf.” She began. “Who, has volunteered to answer our questions pertaining to the working conditions of elves here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mipsy, could you please state your name, and how long you have been working here?”

“Mipsy’s name be Mipsy, and she has been working here at Hogwarts for nearly one hundred and fifty years.”

“That’s a very long time.” Hermione whispered, and Fleur nodded.

“Thank you, Mipsy. Now… Would you say that you feel appreciated for the work you do at Hogwarts?”

Mipsy paused for a moment, before she nodded, smiling. “Yes! Mipsy feels very appreciated. Mipsy helps prepare the desserts for every dinner feast, and she has heard many students say that they love the desserts and sweets.”

Hermione smiled, looking over at her quill, which was dictating everything that they were saying.

“I am very glad to hear that.” Fleur hummed happily. “And you feel as though your magical needs are met, Mipsy? You do not feel as though you are being deprived of the magic of a wixen-elf bond?”

“...Sometimes, Mipsy would like to have a wixen bond again, but she also loves to take care of the students here at Hogwarts at the same time.”

“I see… And would you say that you are provided with proper living quarters?”

Mipsy nodded again, sipping her tea and gesturing to the barrel village on one side of the kitchen.

“House elves don’t need much space, Missies. The Headmistress gave us permission to expand our village, but we are happy with the size it is now.”

And that was how the interview continued for the next hour. Fleur would ask Mipsy about how she would feel receiving wages, or if she knew of any elves who were being mistreated by their masters, and if she had any recommendations on whether or not it would be a good idea to conduct social services type inspections if they knew of elves being mistreated.

Truth be told, it was an excellent interview, and Hermione was overjoyed at the near six feet of parchment she would get to condense into simple talking points to send to Minister Bones.

Sure, it was only the opinions of one house elf, but she was an elf who had been alive for over a century, who had worked at Hogwarts her entire life, and had seen many elves come and go from the staff.

Mipsy was a damn good interviewee.

“I am going to go over the information we have received.” Fleur said softly as the two of them left the kitchens after saying their goodbyes to the elves. “Once I have cut out the unnecessary parts, I will return the parchment to you so we can draft our first letter to your Minister.”

“Perfect.” Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Fleur. I really do appreciate your help.”

“Of course. I am always happy to help. And the house elves are a wonderful place to start with. Our society would fall apart without them!”

“Exactly! Listen, good luck on reading through the information… See you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner, Hermione.” Fleur nodded, leaning down and kissing the top of the younger girl’s head, before she scampered up the stairs to return to the Beauxbatons carriage.

Hermione froze for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

“Did she just..?” She muttered to herself, before shaking her head, heading back towards the Slytherin dorms so she could tell her friends everything that had happened.

She couldn’t wait to see the excitement on their faces when she told them how soon they were to sending their first official letter to the Minister of Magic herself.

Chapter Text

To say that Amelia Bones was, well, displeased with what would have to happen today would be an understatement.

In fact, every ounce of her body wanted to deny the truth of what had happened. Deny that one of the men she had looked up to as a mentor had done such horrible things, all while preaching that he was doing what was best for society.

Because she could not reconcile the fact that Barty Crouch had removed his son from Azkaban, and kept him under the Imperius Curse for thirteen years. A man who loathed anything to do with Dark Magic, who believed that the only way the world would be cleansed would be to kill or imprison any and all Dark Wixen, had willingly placed his child- his flesh and blood- in a prison of his own mind?

It didn’t seem real.

And yet, as she sat at her desk, staring over the reports that had been given to her by the Aurors who had taken over the case, she knew it to be true.

His confession, done under Veritaserum, as well as the statements made by Alastor, were what did him in.

After all, Alastor may be mad, but he could remember every single face that he had placed in Azkaban, and he could identify Barty Crouch Jr without any problems.

So, all that was left was for her to have the Wizengamot sentence the man.

Yet, she felt paralyzed.

She’d felt paralyzed when Ginny Weasley was sentenced, because she knew it was wrong, but for the Minister to completely go against the entire Wizengamot in one fell swoop? Especially one as new to the office as her?

It felt like a recipe for disaster.

Which is why she was so afraid to call the meeting now. Why Amelia felt as though one wrong move would set a guilty man free, and why she had sent a letter to one of the few people she knew she could trust in a situation like this.

“Minister?” Her secretary, a woman named Laura Carter said softly, opening the door and startling her a bit. “Apologies. The Contessa Zabini has arrived?”

“Yes. Ah, please send her in.” Amelia nodded, and she watched as Laura stepped to the side, allowing Juliana, in her soft yellow robes, to enter. At her side was an absolutely massive man in a dark black cloak, one that shrouded his face and hid any identifying marks on his body.

“Amelia.” Juliana smiled a bit, stepping forward and opening her arms to hug the other woman, kissing both of her cheeks before pulling away. “When I received your letter, my dear, I rushed right here. I hope you do not mind my bodyguard.”

“Not at all.” She chuckled sadly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry you feel the need to have one here.”

“Not your fault. The political climate is… Well, it is rather unfortunate at this time. I would rather be safe than sorry.”

“Completely understandable. Ah- Please, have a seat.”

Juliana nodded, taking a seat. Her guard sat next to her, sitting a bit awkwardly, like he was favoring one side over the other. Once her guests had taken their seats, Amelia sat down as well, smoothing out her robes before snapping her fingers, summoning a tray of tea.

“Would you like a cup?” She asked, looking between the two people across from her. When they both nodded, she began preparing their tea. “Thank you for coming, Juliana. Truly. I… I am not afraid to admit that I feel as though I’m at a loss, here.”

“I can imagine.” Juliana nodded the slightest bit, her eyes studying Amelia as though she were a specimen in a lab. She gingerly took her tea, adding two cubes of sugar and a dash of cream, before taking a small sip. Her guard just drank it straight, no sugar, no milk, and steeped to all hell. “...You said that you felt hesitant to call a meeting of the Wizengamot, because you fear them making the wrong decision?”

“Yes, I… I believe we made a mistake with Ginny Weasley, and I’m afraid of making the same mistake.”

“...You are afraid of going against your senate?”

“I am.”

“Forgive my bluntness, Amelia, but… You cannot allow yourself to fear them.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “The Wizengamot is filled with old money purebloods with their heads stuck so far up their asses that they can no longer see the light of day. Fools, if I may say so, and that comes from an old money pureblood.”

Her guard gave a snort at her side.

“I’m aware.” Amelia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up to her forehead. “Believe me, I know. I just… I’m only a year into this position. I can’t… I can’t put my seat at risk. Not when I have so much to do.”

“You are the British Minister of Magic, Amelia.” Juliana said firmly. “These are not schoolyard bullies.”

“How do you deal with your Senate, then? Do you tell them these things to their faces, or do you just-”

“The last time my Senate argued with me, I brought a herd of centaurs into the damn building to prove my point. I threatened to bring werewolves during the full moon next.”

Amelia chuckled a bit. She remembered seeing that in the papers, that the Italian Contessa had all but bullied her Senators into passing a piece of legislation that would protect the centaur’s territories more completely, rather than allowing Wixen to pass into their lands without permission.

She could perfectly imagine Juliana leading a group of werewolves- all given the Wolfsbane Potion, of course- into the Senate just to scare them into passing a Werewolf Rights bill.

But, as much as she wanted to find the humor in that, she still looked at Juliana with a sense of trepidation.

She could see the seriousness, the anger, in the other woman’s eyes.

“...I doubt I’d need to go that far, Juliana.”

“You will, one day.” She warned softly, her gaze flicking away from Amelia. “Believe me. Because you will meet people who believe that you are unfit to sit in the Minister’s seat. You will meet people who have worked at the Ministry far longer than you, who believe you are unworthy. Hell, you will meet people who will think you cannot hold this seat simply because you are a woman, or because you are unmarried, or because you have a niece to raise.”

Juliana frowned. “Because that is what I dealt with for the first decade when I took my place as Contessa after my father’s death. My husband, Bernard, was only able to keep those whispers away for so long, and when he died… All I could hear was how I was no longer fit for my position. I had a son to raise, and a husband to bury, and they believed that someone else would be a better Conte, so they attempted a coup.”

“And… What did you do..?” Amelia asked quietly.

“I had them executed for treason. Every last one of them.”

She hissed a bit at that answer.

“I can’t execute the entire Wizengamot, Juliana.”

“Have you even tried?”

“No! Why on earth would you-” Amelia was cut off by the sudden grin that spread across her friend’s face, and she paused. “...You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”

“I am. I did have those men executed, but I am, as you say, ‘taking the piss.’” Juliana smiled, sitting up more and giving her a stern look, one that reminded her of her late mother. “However… You cannot allow them to walk all over you like this. You are the Minister of Magic. If you dislike their decisions, you can veto them.”

“...Right. I can veto their decisions.”

“You can also provide pardons, you know. A thirteen year old in Azkaban?” She clicked her tongue. “A bad look, darling.”

“I know, I know…”

“...I can sit in on Crouch’s trial, if you would like.” Juliana offered after a moment, setting her teacup down. “Provide my advice on what to do. I have led the Italian wixen for twenty-five years. I can help you get through this.”

Amelia nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath. “...Can your guard come too? I feel like he’s frightening enough to keep anyone from making a foolish decision.”

“Of course. We have him for the entire day.”

“Perfect. I… Suppose I’ll summon the Wizengamot, then.”

“Wonderful. I cannot wait to watch that bastard go to Azkaban… He deserves it, for everything he has done.”

“I agree, even if it pains me to do so…”

Juliana gave her a sympathetic smile as she stood, her guard rising as well, the two of them standing off to the side a bit as Amelia prepared to summon the Wizengamot.

As she wrote, she could hear the two of them having a quiet conversation, with Juliana speaking her native Italian, while her guard spoke an obviously Slavic language.

His voice was… Oddly familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it.

She shook her head, making plenty of copies of her summons, before she sent them all out.

“...I suppose I should show you two to the courtrooms, then?” Amelia offered, snapping the two of them out of their conversation. They both nodded in unison, before the guard held his arm out for Juliana to take, following the Minister out of her office and into the main floor of the Ministry building, taking the elevator down to the courtrooms.

She couldn’t stop the anxiety from clutching at her chest, but… Having the Contessa’s support meant more than Amelia could ever truly explain.

At the very least, she would have a person who was ready to support her choices, and guide her towards the ones that would benefit her and her people the best.

So, she took a deep breath, leading the two of them into courtroom eight, and summoning two extra seats for them, down in the Minister’s box.

After all, the rest of the Wizengamot would be arriving in an hour, which was when Crouch was being brought up, and she refused to force her guests to sit in the spectators' stands.

No, Juliana was going to help her, which meant she needed to be as close as possible.

That was the only way this could turn out alright.

She hoped, at least.

—

Juliana, truthfully, had no respect for the British Ministry of Magic.

Call it her years of experience, her bitterness when it came to the way other countries ran themselves, or purely because she has watched their Ministers fumble and fuck up constantly, but she had little to no faith in most of what she saw.

She had even doubted her choice in supporting Amelia the previous year, when she discovered that the Wizengamot had imprisoned a thirteen year old girl, and she hadn’t done a thing to stop it.

Finding out that she didn’t feel confident in stopping them certainly explained her lack of action, but it still didn’t satisfy the anger she felt in her soul at what had happened.

So, as she sat in the chair that Amelia had conjured for her and her bodyguard, observing the members of the Wizengamot, and the Aurors that kept Crouch chained to the chair he was being held in, she couldn’t help but still feel dissatisfied.

They knew Crouch was guilty. They had his signed confession.

And yet, they had not convicted him.

She scowled, only relaxing a bit when she felt her guard’s large hand wrap around hers, giving it a soft squeeze as a quiet show of support. She nodded at him, a smile forming on her lips as she let out a small, shuddering breath, the sound of the gavel striking the block calling court to order.

“The accused is present, Minister Bones.” Kingsley Shacklebolt, the handsome Auror who had come to help Harry back when his parents were murdered, spoke. He was sitting in the DMLE Head’s seat, and Juliana was at least a little bit pleased about that choice. “And Miss Magnussen is ready to scribe.”

“Then we shall begin.” Amelia nodded. “Sentencing on the Fourth of January for the offenses committed by one Bartemius Alfonso Crouch Senior, which are as follows; Assisting in the escape of a known prisoner of Azkaban, prolonged use of the Imperius Curse, kidnapping, torture, and corruption.”

“Presiding over the trial are as follows. Amelia Susan Bones, Minister for Magic, Kingsley Amos Shacklebolt, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Juliana Zabini, the Contessa of the Italian Republic of Magic, and Eleanor Magnussen, the Court Scribe.”

Juliana hummed in response, leaning to the side a bit and resting her chin on her hand, staring down at Crouch with an expression of distaste, her eyes boring into his very soul, causing him to flinch away.

He was, truly, pathetic.

Amelia’s voice broke her concentration.

“Is it true, Bartemius, that you and your wife, Nadine, removed your son, Bartemius Crouch Junior, from Azkaban prison on February Eighth of 1982?” She asked the man. “And, replacing him with your ailing wife, smuggled him out of the prison, leaving her to die in his place?”

“Yes.” Crouch said quietly, refusing to make eye contact. “We did. It was Nadine’s dying wish. She never… She never forgave me for imprisoning him. Making a spectacle of him. Told me every day that if she was not already ill, she would have killed me.”

“You do not need to explain. Simple yes or no answers are fine.” She replied, before continuing. “And upon removing your son from the prison, you placed him under the Imperius Curse?”

“Yes.”

“And, you continually reapplied the curse for thirteen years, until it came time for the Quidditch World Cup, which is when he broke free?”

“Yes.” Crouch nodded again, closing his eyes tightly.

“After your son broke free, he proceeded to-”

“To cast the Dark Mark into the sky, blaming Ginny Weasley for casting it.” He suddenly interrupted. “I didn’t want to admit my mistake, so I allowed her to take the fall.”

Amelia pursed her lips, forming a false expression of distaste, but Juliana could see the way her face paled, and her grip on the papers in her hand became that much tighter.

“...So, instead of admitting your crimes, you allowed an innocent child to take the blame?” She asked. “And you didn’t say a word during her sentencing?”

“You didn’t either-”

Juliana sat up. “Minister Bones was in a position wherein which she could not speak out, as much as she would have liked to. The Ministry was in the middle of dealing with a very, very real terrorist attack, and you, instead of facing up to your sins, allowed a child to be sent to Azkaban.”

Crouch went silent, but he stared at her in shock, like he wasn’t actually expecting her to speak.

She continued, realizing he wouldn’t interrupt her.

“Minister, may I take over some of the questioning?”

“Of course, Contessa.”

She rose to her feet, stepping out of the Minister’s box and walking down onto the courtroom floor, her guard at her heels.

“Bartemius Crouch. You were the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the war, were you not?” Juliana asked.

“Yes, I-... I was.”

“Which means that you were in charge of the trials and sentencing of all criminals who were placed in Azkaban during that time, yes?”

“...Yes.”

“And, during that chaos, would you say that you were careful with your decisions? You took the time to look at the evidence, to have your Aurors investigate properly? Or did you simply throw any and all accused into Azkaban?”

“It was a tumultuous time.” Crouch tried to protest. “There were dark wixen running amok, and-”

“Were. You. Careful?” Juliana repeated, her eyes boring into his skull.

It took him a moment to answer again, but, he couldn’t bring himself to actually speak.

Instead, he merely shook his head.

She nodded, standing up and turning to look at the Wizengamot, her eyes landing on Amelia.

“You need to go over every single one of the trials he presided over. I do not care how many there are. If there are discrepancies, a lack of a trial, or even falsified evidence, you need to put those involved into a retrial.”

Juliana knew that, well, ordering around the Minister of Magic in her own court was probably not the greatest idea, but Amelia simply nodded, and the court scribe, Magnussen, made a secondary note of that.

“Those trials will be gone over, as well as every record of the inmates imprisoned under his rule.” She nodded a bit. “Ginny Weasley will be pardoned, and her record wiped, due to the fact that she was falsely imprisoned. Anything that she, and her family, needs as reparations will be given from Crouch’s family vaults.”

“Is there anything else you would like to confess to, Bartemius?”

Crouch hesitated for a moment, before he let out a shaky breath.

“...Bertha Jorkins.” He said quietly. “She came to my home while I was away. Accidentally discovered my son. I Obliviated her, but… I think I caused more damage than I meant to. I don’t know where she is, or what has happened to her, but…”

“It’s my fault she went to Albania. It’s my fault she’s disappeared.”

Juliana paused, turning to look at Amelia once again, and noting her enraged expression.

She hadn’t heard of a Bertha Jorkins, but judging from the look on her face, this was something that upset her deeply.

“...Bertha was pregnant, you utter buffoon.” Amelia snapped, standing up, her shoulders shaking a bit. “She was pregnant, and you messed with her head, and now we don’t know where she is?”

And oh, that made everything make sense.

The Minister grabbed her gavel again, slamming it against her desk with such a force that Juliana was amazed that it didn’t break in half.

“I have heard enough, and I know the rest of the Wizengamot have as well. Bartemius Alfonso Crouch Senior, for your crimes, and your complete lack of remorse for what you have done? I sentence you to the Dementor’s Kiss.” She said simply. “To be carried out with immediate effect, and for your body to be buried in the grave that was supposed to be your son’s, on Azkaban.”

Her guard quickly rushed to her side, leading Juliana off of the courtroom floor and up into the Minister’s box once again, and she froze, watching as the Aurors on the floor got out of the way as well.

Heavy doors creaked open, and the temperature in the courtroom dropped significantly, and she stepped closer to the man, allowing him to wrap his cloak around her to keep her warm.

The air filled with the stench of rotting meat and she watched, in disgust, as the Dementor slowly made its way to Crouch, its vile hands reaching out to the terrified man and cupping his face.

Juliana turned, hiding her face in her guard’s shoulder, allowing him to cup the back of her head and block her vision entirely.

“It will be over soon.” He said quietly. “Do not turn.”

She nodded, keeping her face buried against him until the screaming stopped, and the room warmed again.

She could hear Amelia’s voice, dismissing the Wizengamot, and asking if she was alright, but she didn’t answer.

“Juliana?” She asked softly. “Juliana, you should go. I’m so sorry, I… I lost control, and…”

“No, no. You did what needed to be done.” She shook her head firmly, taking a deep breath and pulling her head up a bit, swallowing down the bile that had risen in her throat. “...I will take my leave, however. You have a good point there. I… Write if you need anything, my friend.”

“Of course, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Juliana smiled at her, walking over and gently wrapping Amelia in a hug, which was quickly returned.

“Hush. You lost control, but he caused far more pain than you had expected. Good luck, Amelia. You will need it.”

She nodded as they pulled away, and Juliana looped her arm with her guard’s again, letting him lead her out of the courtroom.

As soon as they were away from other people, he removed his mask, his white hair nearly glowing as it fell out from behind the covering, and his dark eyes shining with worry.

“Проклятие. Are you alright, Juliana?” Ivan asked quietly, carefully wrapping her up in his arms. “The Dementor, it-”

“Startled me. I am fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, completely.” Juliana insisted. “It startled me. I was not expecting it.”

Ivan sighed, nodding the slightest bit as his hand came up to cup her cheeks, murmuring quietly in Russian as he tried to calm himself. Once he had, he smiled at her, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh.

“Will you be alright to return to the Villa on your own? I have to return to Hogwarts.” He said softly. “I have a meeting with the other Heads of Houses in two hours and I need to prepare. I am helping Severus come up with a full proposal for his and Aurora’s Home Economics class.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely…” Juliana chuckled, and nodding, her body finally starting to relax a bit. “Yes, I can get home fine on my own. Be safe, Ivan, and remember-”

“I know, my lady, I know. Do not blow my cover.”

“Right… Be safe, my friend. And keep me updated on my treasures.”

“Always.” Ivan chuckled as he kissed her forehead, pulling away slowly and heading to one of the public floo chimneys after placing the mask back on her face.

She took a slow, shaky breath, trying to calm herself the rest of the way as she walked, returning to the Minister’s offices and nodding at Amelia’s secretary, before stepping into the fireplace.

She had done what she needed to do, and now she could return home and decompress for a little while.

Today had been far more than she had been expecting to deal with, and she needed to rest.

The only thing that would make it better would be if her son, and the rest of her darlings, were home with her.

But, as long as Ivan was there to protect them, Juliana could at least rest easy, knowing that they were safe.

—

“Volkov, where the devil were you?” Filius asked with a soft laugh as the Transfiguration professor made his way into the staff room. Ivan let out a short laugh as well, shaking his head.

“Ah, Filius, you need not worry. I just had some personal matters to attend to. My damn leg has been acting up today.” He smiled, adjusting his grip on his cane and making his way over to the staff table, where a cup of tea waited for him. He sat down carefully, taking a sip and smiling.

No milk, no sweetener. Just the way he liked it.

“Thank you to whoever made my tea.” Ivan added with a smile. “Much appreciated.”

Severus gave a slight nod, before turning to look at the rest of the Heads of Houses.

“I know that I called you all here to discuss the Home Economics class that Aurora and I are working on, but… That is not the full reason.” He said simply. “I need to talk to you all about the Tournament, because I was just informed by Mr. Hartford about what the Second Task is.”

Ivan paused for a moment, before putting a fake frown on his face as the Potions professor began to explain everything that Harry had told him, making sure to look appropriately shocked and horrified at the thought of students being placed at the bottom of the lake.

It was, after all, shocking and horrifying, so it wasn’t very difficult to wear that expression.

But, as their discussion turned towards the task, and how they could help their students get through it as uninjured as possible, he hid a small smile behind his tea cup.

Everything was going to plan.

And in just a few short months, this year of hell would be over, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t need to be on such active guard for the next school year.

He could only hope.

Chapter Text

“I hate my medication.” Harry groaned, staring angrily at the small, shot-glass style cup that held his potion. “I hate this fucking thing so much you have no idea.”

“Harry, my love, light of my life, my heart and soul?” Theo sighed, his own eyes still stuck shut from exhaustion as he sipped his coffee. “...Take the fucking potion.”

“It’s vile! It tastes like metal!”

“And you have to drink it, or else you want to kill yourself. I don’t want you to kill yourself, so you need to drink the metal potion.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you’re just feeling weird this morning because you’re stressed about the second task, and you really hate your potion even though you know that taking it makes you feel better. Plus, your mind healer would be very sad if you stopped taking your meds.”

Theo had a point. Harry’s mind healer, a kind old man named Healer O’Brian, had the sort of grandfatherly energy that their former headmaster had tried to have.

For gods sake, his wife baked cookies for all of his patients, and made sure to learn all of their cookie preferences.

The very idea of making that kind, kind man who genuinely worried for him and cared for him sad felt like a punch to the gut.

He couldn’t do that to Healer O’Brian.

He grumbled a bit, hesitantly picking up the small glass and downing his dose of his potion, fighting back the urge to retch as Daphne passed him a glass of pumpkin juice, washing it down as quickly as he could.

It took a few moments for the effects to hit him, but, as he began to eat his pancakes, his shoulders slumped a bit, and he leaned against his boyfriend apologetically.

“...’m sorry I said I hated you…” He murmured, and Theo smiled.

“It’s fine, baby. Feeling better?”

“Mhm…”

“Merlin, you two are disgusting.” Draco mock gagged, even as he had his head resting on Viktor’s shoulder. “Get a room.”

“I feel like we should be saying that to you two.” Blaise scoffed. “I walked into the common room this morning and you had your tongues down each other’s throats. I’ve never been so disturbed in my life. I didn’t even know that was possible!”

“We’re not that bad!”

“No, you are.”

“We are.” Viktor conceded, earning a betrayed and appalled look from his boyfriend.

Harry snickered a bit, shaking his head, before he paused, an all too familiar buzzing sensation at the back of his neck making him cringe.

“Ugh, that fucking… Beetle is back.” He said softly, looking around angrily. “I can feel it. I just don’t know where it is.”

“I thought you killed that bug?” Neville asked, frowning. “Didn’t you hit it with a shoe?”

“I did, but apparently, I didn’t hit it hard enough. Tell me if you see it?”

“I’ll stab it for you.” Theo offered, kissing the side of his boyfriend’s head.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Well… Adorable bug murder plots aside.” Hermione snickered, shaking her head as she smiled. “Have you found anything interesting in your mum’s diaries, Harry?”

He shrugged. “Nothing crazy, no. Just… A few things getting confirmed. Mum and Dad were married as teenagers, Mum had a lot of deep seeded trauma that she pushed to the side to take care of the people she loves-”

“Like someone else we know.” Blaise chimed in, shooting a knowing glare at his friend, who shot one right back.

“-and. She had prophetic dreams for most of her life. I’ve been cataloging them, connecting them with different events she’s written about. I just… I can’t figure out some of them.”

“Do you want some help with them?”

“No, this is… It’s a personal thing, you know?” Harry sighed. “I know it probably isn’t good for me to dwell on the whole, you know, dead mum prophecies thing, but…”

“It helps you feel connected to her.” Luna smiled. “Because those diaries are from when she was growing up.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, if you do ever need help, we’re here, okay baby?” Theo smiled softly, finishing his coffee and shuddering. “Eugh.”

“Too much coffee at once?”

“Yes. I’m gonna start gagging.”

“Eat a piece of bread.”

Before the other boy could open his mouth and reply with what Harry was fairly certain was a ‘thank you’, he gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth as he and the rest of their friends erupted into a fit of giggles.

“I swear. I can’t get through a single goddamn breakfast without someone nearly puking.” Daphne sighed, shaking her head as she pushed her plate of eggs away, deciding to nibble on toast instead. “You’re all making my eggs taste like eggs.”

“Oh no, that’s actual hell.” Luna said sympathetically, reaching over and gently patting her friend’s arm. “Can I eat your eggs or do you think they’re too egg?”

“Too egg, Lue.”

“Unfortunate.”

And that sent them all into another fit of giggles, because truly, once they start laughing, it was damn hard to get them to stop.

—

September 18th, 1988

Dear Diary,

It’s still a bit juvenile that I write to you like this, isn’t it? I open every entry with ‘dear diary’, but I just can’t help it.

I feel like I’m writing letters to a friend, rather than chronicling my thoughts. Is that strange? It might be.

I don’t know, though.

Anyways, that’s not what I need to tell you about, old friend.

Harry had a PTSD induced panic attack last night. I found him, at three in the morning, scrubbing the kitchen floor in tears. My poor baby’s fingers were covered in chemical burns from the cleaners, and I don’t know how he got to them. We have everything locked away, but he must have found a way to break the lock.

He’s curled up on the sofa with Gid right now, wearing socks on his hands which are all slathered with petroleum jelly for the burns, and he hasn’t been able to stop crying, so we’re going to get Mr. Zhu’s for dinner.

Gid’s just been holding him for hours. I know seeing our boy like this breaks his heart, and I wish I knew how to help, but there are certain things that Mums are better at, and some things that Dads are better at.

Right now, he doesn’t need Mum coddling, he needs Dad coddling.

Which, I understand entirely. When I was upset, I wanted my Dad too.

I still do, sometimes.

But, Harry’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna keep an eye on those burns, and I’m gonna keep slathering him in petroleum jelly until they’re gone. He’ll be like a sad little slug.

My poor sad slug baby.

I’m going to cry just thinking about it.

I called his social worker, to ask for advice, and she said that sometimes this happens, and all we need to do is make sure that we keep the cleaners completely out of reach, and talk to him gently about what happened.

It just doesn’t feel like enough.

Oh, I have to go, Gid called up the stairs and asked me to take over Cuddle Time so he could go and get us some dinner.

Thanks for listening. I needed to get some of these thoughts out.

Love,

Fiona

-

Harry chuckled a bit, looking at his mum’s swirly cursive.

His favorite part of reading the diaries was seeing the way her handwriting evolved, from the shaky, barely readable cursive at the very beginning to the fancy, almost calligraphy-like writing that she finished with.

It was a secondary journey he was following her on, and he really did love it.

He shouldered his bag a bit as he made his way through the halls, heading down to the Great Hall for dinner, completely missing the strange looks that some of the students he was passing by, his nose buried too far into the diary he was reading as he let muscle memory carry him down to dinner.

The further he walked, however, the more… Uneasy, he felt.

There was something off about the air itself, it seemed.

The closer he got to the Great Hall, the more that feeling settled over him, starting to compress his chest as though someone had sat down upon it to suffocate him.

Harry frowned, shaking his head as he slipped the little ribbon bookmark into the diary to save his place, before he tucked it back into his bag, stepping across the threshold and into the Hall so he could get some dinner before going to bed.

And there?

The oppressive feeling was so, so much worse.

It was fucking overwhelming.

He slowly looked around, his frown deepening as he saw all of the students crowding around newspapers, their faces a mixture of shock and concern as he made his way to where he could see Hermione sitting, her own expression twisted into one of horror as she read from her copy of what looked to be the Evening Prophet.

She looked up, panic in her eyes, and their gazes locked.

And her panic became that much more palpable as she suddenly dashed around the table, rushing over to him and grabbing his arm, her paper tucked firmly under her own.

“Harry, we need to go.” She said quietly. “This isn’t a good place to be right now.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but I would be a terrible fucking sister if I let you stay in here right now, okay?”

Harry blinked a few times, letting himself be dragged, but they didn’t leave quite fast enough to miss the hushed whispers being sent his way.

“-ats him, right?”

“Merlin, I can’t believe they just let him walk around the school like this…”

“He’s not dangerous, you git. He’s sick.”

“Mum says that people who are sick in the head like that need to just buck up. Plus, isn’t he living with the Malfoys? He’s got it made!”

He didn’t get a chance to process it, however, as Hermione all but yanked him out of the Hall, starting to head back down to the dungeons and letting out quiet growls every time someone got slightly too close to the two of them.

“Hermione, would you please tell me what’s going on?” He insisted. “What are they talking about?”

She stopped, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked around, pulling him into one of the side corridors and casting a soft Lumos with her wand, handing him the newspaper to let him read what had caused such a fuss.

And Harry was utterly confused as he read the headline.

“...So they’re releasing Ginny? Is that really such a big deal?” He asked, and Hermione shook her head, opening the paper to show him a different article.

One that was written by Rita Skeeter.

-

If you’re anything like me, then you remember being a teenager. You remember the hormones that run rampant, you remember the days where the world felt as though it were ending, and the fact that those sorts of emotions would disappear not long after.

That doesn’t seem to be the case for one Harry Hartford, however, as sources at Hogwarts claim that the Boy-Who-Lived, who is participating in the Triwizard Tournament as the fourth champion, is not only attending regular sessions with a Mind Healer, but is also taking medication to help stabilize his moods.

For those not in the know, in modern times, many muggles go on a type of medication known as an anti-depressant, which is supposed to help their brains create hormones like serotonin and dopamine, which helps to prevent severe depression and suicidal thoughts.

Which, is what our fourth Triwizard Champion takes every morning with breakfast, my anonymous sources say.

“He’s tried to kill himself before, I heard.” One student said. “The scars are faded now, but if you look at his arms, you can see these thin lines that cut across them, like he used a razor or a knife to cut himself.”

Another student said that they know that many of the professors at Hogwarts cut Hartford a lot of slack due to his supposed depression, and that he even gets special permission to leave school during weekdays for his sessions with a mind healer-

-

The paper burst into flames in his hands, cutting off whatever else Skeeter decided to write, and preventing him from knowing exactly what horrible, hateful things she decided to say about him.

And, as much as he wanted to say that her words didn’t upset him, he couldn’t hide the tears that had gathered on his lashes, or that were spilling down his cheeks against his will.

“...She… How did she..?” Harry asked quietly, his voice breaking.

“I don’t know.” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “She isn’t even allowed on campus. Professor Volkov chases her off every time he sees her, so I don’t know who she could have even interviewed… It was none of our friends, obviously, but…”

He sniffed, wiping his eyes before he wiped the ashes of the burnt paper on his hands, leaving ashy smudges on his face without a care in the world.

“...I don’t even fucking know what to do here.”

“I don’t either.”

“...Thanks for getting me out of the Great Hall, I guess.” He said after a moment, a weak chuckle escaping him as he sighed. “God… This is going to be horrible. It’s going to either be like second year all over again, or everyone’s going to look at me like I’m completely mad. I don’t know which is worse.”

Hermione bit her lip, pulling him into a crushing hug, which he returned after a moment.

“It’s gonna be fine. Come on, let’s go find Sirius, okay?” She whispered, and he nodded, letting her pull away and grab his hand, quickly leading him up through the corridors until they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

She shoved the door open without a second thought, startling Sirius, who was thankfully alone. He lifted his head, a frown on his face as he studied their expressions, before standing up and hurrying over to them.

“Harry? Hermione? What happened, loves?” He asked gently, shutting the door behind them and gently cupping his godson’s cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

“Skeeter wrote an article about Harry.” Hermione said, not skipping a beat.

“What kind of article?”

“It said that he was attention seeking. That he isn’t actually suffering with depression and-”

“She what?” Sirius asked, his voice darkening and turning into a near growl as he wrapped Harry up in a tight hug, cradling the back of his head protectively. “Are you fucking serious? Is she seriously that stupid?”

“Apparently! We don’t even know how she knew this stuff!” Hermione threw her hands into the air. “She referenced a bunch of conversations that we had in private! She even knew Healer O’Brian’s name!”

Harry paused at that, a frown forming on his face.

He hadn’t been able to read the article all the way through, his upset having caused the paper to burst into flames, so knowing that Skeeter had name dropped his healer was… Odd.

“How did she-” Sirius scoffed angrily. “Healers aren’t allowed to disclose that information for privacy reasons, and there’s no way in hell any of you would have said anything to her. The Malfoys and Tonkses wouldn’t have either!”

“Exactly! It’s why I don’t understand how she could have done all of this! She shouldn’t know any of this!”

“Unless she heard it from me.” Harry said quietly, pulling away from Sirius with an expression of dawning horror. “Unless she heard me reference Healer O’Brian, and my medication.”

Hermione paused, turning to look at him in utter confusion. “Harry, how would she have been able to hear that from you? She’s not even allowed on campus.”

“Hermione, how many times have I described Skeeter’s magic as feeling buggy?”

“A lot, but-”

“And remember this morning, I mentioned that that stupid fucking beetle was back?”

“Yes? Theo threatened to stab- Oh.” She froze. “Oh, Harry… You don’t think..?”

“I do think.” Harry closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hogwarts doesn’t have defenses against Animagi because of McGonagall. The school wouldn’t detect an unfamiliar Animagus.”

“What? What are we talking about here?” Sirius asked, looking between them worriedly.

“Rita Skeeter might just be an unregistered Animagus. Likely a beetle.” Hermione said softly, her hands shaking. “Which is how she’s getting into the school without us realizing it, and how she’s getting all of this private information.”

“Oh shit.”

“Exactly.” Harry snorted. “Fuck… How the hell are we supposed to even..?”

“I don’t know, but… Ah, how about you two stay up here?” His godfather sighed, gently ruffling his hair. “I’ll go and get you both some food, and I’ll get your friends. Yeah?”

“Yeah… Thanks, Siri.”

“Of course, pup… Just, sit tight. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Sirius smiled at them, adjusting his cloak and quickly slipping out of the classroom, locking the door behind him. Once he was gone, Harry let his shoulders begin to tremble, tears welling up in his eyes all over again, and Hermione wrapped him up in her arms, kissing the top of his head with ease.

“It’s gonna be okay, Harry.” She whispered fiercely, her grip on him tightening just a bit. “We’ll catch her. I dunno what we’ll do to her, but… We’ll catch her.”

He nodded a bit, burrowing his face into her shoulder as he broke into soft sobs.

“I just don’t understand…” He hiccupped. “I don’t understand why no one can leave me alone…”

“I wish I knew… I really wish I knew.” She replied.

It was one thing to have the whole school hating him for being able to speak Parseltongue, and another for everyone to think he entered into the Tournament for glory and fame.

But everyone staring at him, everyone looking at him as though he were some sort of madman, or like he was going to fall apart at a moment’s notice?

That was something else entirely.

And he desperately did not want that.

He just wanted the rest of the world to leave him alone, to not acknowledge him, to act as though he were just a regular fucking person, not something to gawk and laugh at.

But, for now, he was safe in Hermione’s arms, and he could face the horrifying reality that awaited him later.

—

Theo was going to kill that buggy little bitch.

That was the only thought in his mind as he stomped through the Great Hall, snatching up copies of the Evening Prophet out of people’s hands and hucking them into the grand fireplace, anger boiling in his chest.

How dare Skeeter write about Harry?

His Harry?

He could handle articles about himself, they didn’t bother him. He could handle articles about anything else.

But he simply could not handle, nor would he stand for, anyone even slightly insinuating that his Harry would be faking his illness.

Not when he had seen the wounds first hand.

Not when he had woken up countless times to see his beloved staring up at the ceiling with a numb, empty look in his eyes. Or when he watched Harry’s hands flex and scratch at the scars on his arms in an effort to distract himself from the urge to hurt himself again- something he struggled with, but never said aloud.

And especially not when just the night before, Harry had confided in him that sometimes, he still wished he was dead.

No, no one got to say anything about him when that was the agony his beloved was suffering through.

So, he burned every single copy of the Evening Prophet he could get his hands on.

Which was harder than he would like to admit, but became much easier when he realized that the Weasley twins- Fred and George, he corrected himself quietly- began to do so as well.

The three of them nodded at one another, a silent agreement to get rid of any newspapers they could find, at any costs.

“Boot, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t hand over that fucking newspaper I’m going to shove my foot so far up your ass you can taste rubber.” Theo snapped, snatching the next paper out of the other boy’s hand and moving to huck it into the fireplace like he had with all of the others.

That is, until another large hand wrapped around his wrist, grabbing the paper from him with a soft hum.

“Mr. Nott, may I ask why you are burning newspapers?” Professor Volkov, accompanied by Snape, asked, a pleasant smile on his face. Theo flinched a bit, turning to look at him, heat rising on his cheeks.

He had honestly forgotten that him doing this would probably look bad, especially since he was yanking papers out of other people’s hands.

“Ah… You see, there’s a Skeeter article in there.” He said after a moment, clearing his throat. “And, uhm… Well, I take personal offense to it.”

“Why do you take personal offense to the article?” Snape asked, raising a brow as Volkov unfolded the paper, his eyes flickering across the ink. Theo knew the minute he understood exactly why he was destroying the papers by the way his gaze darkened, and his jaw clenched.

He silently held the paper out to Snape, who looked at the article for all of ten seconds, before he nodded, a grim expression forming on his face.

“Ah. That’s why.”

“Carry on then, Mr. Nott.” Volkov nodded, releasing his wrist and tossing the newspaper into the fireplace. “And do let me know if you see Skeeter anywhere nearby. She has been banned from the grounds multiple times, and I believe if we catch her here one more time, we can have her arrested for trespassing.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful.” His head of house said quietly, before murmuring under his breath as he followed behind his fellow professor. “Ten points to Slytherin for defense of a classmate.”

Theo snickered a bit, flashing a grin at his professors before he turned back to Terry Boot, his expression falling into a scowl. The other boy turned away immediately, his face pale and terrified, and he took that moment to stand back up completely, looking around for any copies of the Prophet that he had not yet thrown into the blaze.

Instead of newspapers, however, he watched as Luna approached, a pile of newspapers in her arms, before she dumped them into the fireplace as well, an uncharacteristic scowl on her face.

The two of them made eye contact, and he raised a brow in a silent question, moving closer to her side.

“Harry’s okay.” She said softly. “He’s with Hermione, up in Uncle Erasmus’ classroom.”

“Thank Merlin…” He murmured, his hand coming up to grasp his necklace, the soft pulsing of Harry’s heartbeat coming through due to the enchantments on it. It was a little bit fast, but not as fast as it would be if Harry were having a panic attack.

Although, that didn’t stop the anxiety from bubbling inside of him.

“You said he’s in Professor Rosier’s classroom?” He asked softly.

“Yep. The door is locked from the outside, so either he or Hermione will need to let you in.”

“Okay. I’m gonna-”

“Go, Theo. I’ll take care of the rest of the newspapers.”

Theo sighed in relief, gently bumping his forehead against hers before pulling away, making his way back out of the Great Hall so he could go check on his boyfriend.

Maybe, if they lucked out, they could write a letter to Narcissa that night, so she and Lucius could go and rip the publishers a new one for writing something so needlessly cruel about Harry.

But, that was a problem for later. Right now, he simply needed to be with his boyfriend, and he needed to make sure that he was going to be okay.

Even if that meant they needed to skip all their classes tomorrow, which, Theo would not be all that opposed to.

Chapter Text

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Seriously, I’m okay.”

Luna hated how often those words spilled from Harry’s lips.

After Skeeter wrote that awful article, spending all that time degrading Harry, and implying that the trauma and pain that was constantly eating at him was simply for attention, it was like he had regressed.

His mental health hit the bottom of the tank, and even though he still took his potion every morning, still did what he could to keep himself and everyone else happy, he still was struggling.

And with the looming threat of the second task, which was only days away, it was that much worse.

Which was why she was currently laying in bed next to her dear friend, his body completely covered by blankets, and his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions as he curled up, eyes damp and red rimmed. She was gently humming, her hands running over his cheeks lovingly, not saying a single word.

He didn’t want reassurances, he didn’t want comfort.

But he needed it.

He just needed a specific sort of comfort, one that she knew how to give.

“...Neville said that the Gillyweed is fully matured. Just in time, too…” She hummed. “We have enough for all four of you to keep two doses of it on you, which should give you two hours underwater. Even though the task is only an hour, we’d still rather take no chances.”

Harry hummed a bit, shuffling in his blankets and sticking one hand out. Luna slid hers into his grasp, squeezing it ever so gently.

“I also found something rather funny today.” She continued. “There’s a rather large infestation of Tolleycrockers in Professor Snape’s office.”

“...Tolleycrockers..?” He rasped out, and she hid a small smile.

That was the first thing Harry had said all day. Theo was going to be overjoyed.

“Yes, Tolleycrockers. They surround people who keep secrets. Sirius has some on him too.”

“Huh…”

“I don’t know if it’s a bad secret, but I’ve seen him grabbing at his arm, the way Lucius did when he was in pain from his Dark Mark.”

“Weird…”

“Isn’t it?” Luna smiled at him.

Harry chuckled a bit, slowly pushing himself up. She followed suit, helping him sit up and smooth out his hair before resting her head on his shoulder.

“...I’m sorry you got stuck babysitting me.” He said after a moment, wrapping an arm around her and burrowing his face into her hair. “I know I’m lame right now.”

“Oh, no, Harry. You’re not lame at all. You’re sick, which means that you need to have someone to take care of you, is all.”

“I’m not sick, though…”

“Your brain is sick.” Luna shrugged. “And if it was any other organ that wasn’t working quite right, like your heart, or your lungs, you wouldn’t be saying that. Depression is a sickness, and one of the best things for it is love.”

He smiled the slightest bit, looking at her tiredly. “...You’re always the one who gets stuck on babysitting duty, though. I feel bad.”

“Ah, but have you ever considered that I volunteer for babysitting duty?”

“Why would you want to do this?”

“Because you’re my family, and sometimes, you just need someone to lay in the pit with you.”

“...What would I do without you, Lulu?”

She grinned up at him, hugging him around the waist tightly and squeezing him so hard he let out a wheeze.

“You would have a very, very boring time when you’re wallowing. I make wallowing quite exciting.”

“You do. The cats help too.” Harry hummed, gesturing to Crookshanks and Espresso, who were curled up at their feet, violently grooming each other and biting at the air whenever some of their hair got stuck in the other’s mouth. “Even if they’re fucking weirdos… I mean, really, what is that?”

“I dunno… I think it might be a great bonding activity.”

“Yeah, with a romantic partner. I’m sorry Luna, but you couldn’t pay me money to get me to do that.”

“Not even to Theo?”

Harry paused for a moment, his face turning bright red, and Luna grinned at him.

“Got you.”

He giggled a bit, looking away.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” He agreed, turning back to her and smiling, his eyes falling shut as she sat up on her knees and kissed the top of his head.

Luna smiled a bit, hugging him around his neck as she let out a happy sigh, and that was the exact reason she always volunteered to sit with him whenever he was in a bad way.

Because, no matter what, she knew she could get him to smile, and even just a little bit of happiness did wonders for him when his mind was his worst enemy.

“Now… Are you gonna lay in bed all day, or are you gonna come with me and bother Neville while he tries to wrestle Regina into a new pot?” She asked, grinning as she did so. After a moment of pretending to think about whether or not he wanted to come with, Harry sighed dramatically.

“I suppose I should go outside for a little while…”

“Excellent! Dress warm, it’s very chilly.”

“It’s fucking February, of course it’s chilly.”

“Still. Put on a sweater.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Severus was about ready to have a conniption fit.

In fact, a part of him was deeply considering having one, if only to make sure that Ludo Bagman, Karkaroff, and Madam Maxine understood where his protests were coming from. Minerva and Pomona seemed just as concerned as he was, especially as their eyes scanned the list of possible wixen who would be submerged into the lake for the second task, because they knew, just as well as he did, that this was not going to end well.

Cedric Diggory would be retrieving his girlfriend, Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team’s Seeker. There was little to no contest about that, because as much as Diggory adored his friends, he looked at Chang as though she were what made the world go round. She was the sun, and he was a planet caught in her orbit.

But that was where the ease of this task ended, and the terrifying part began.

Because Krum and Delacour were not close to very many people, and with the latter sending away her little sister- likely for her own safety, and Severus couldn’t help but agree with that line of thinking- they had even fewer options.

And their options?

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

Draco, who was Krum’s boyfriend, who he was utterly smitten with and so protective over that not even Karkaroff could make comments towards him about it, and Hermione, who Delacour had befriended due to their shared experiences of being magical creatures, and their desire to defend their rights.

Two people who Harry loved dearly.

And considering the fact that Harry was the fourth champion, that meant that there would be three people that the boy loved dearly stuck at the bottom of a near frozen lake for them to rescue.

He could see the disaster perfectly.

The utter carnage that the boy would unleash upon them if anything happened to his loved ones, because the forest still bore the remnants of what happened last time his family came close to death.

Severus shuddered, shaking his head as he tuned back into the conversation.

“And that’s the part that I need the most help with.” Bagman smiled. “Granger and Malfoy are down for Delacour and Krum respectively, which means those two options are out for Harry. I just can’t quite figure out who would be the best option for Harry.”

“Why not just have that boyfriend of his, Nott, go down?” Karkaroff asked, raising a brow. “That seems to be the theme here.”

“If Theodore is down at the bottom of that lake, Karkaroff, there will be carnage.” Severus shook his head. “Harry doesn’t react well to his loved ones being in danger. The fact that Draco and Hermione are down there in the first place means that he’s going to be on edge already, if not in a state of complete hysterics.”

“Well then… What about Mr. Longbottom?” Bagman asked, a frown on his face as he crossed out Theodore’s name.

“And risk Daphne’s wrath? That girl has a unicorn with a taste for blood on her side. I don’t know about you all, but I would rather not be gored by a furious juvenile unicorn.”

Another name crossed off.

“And… Miss Greengrass?”

“Good luck getting her in the lake.”

“Well, that leaves Mr. Zabini and Miss Lovegood.”

Pomona chuckled a bit, stifling it as much as she could. Madam Maxine and Karkaroff looked at her in confusion, which is when Minerva spoke up.

“If you wish to cause an international incident, you can place Mr. Zabini in the lake.” She sighed, shaking her head. “But I will make sure she knows it was no one at Hogwarts’ idea to put him down into the lake.”

“Then Lovegood it is!”

Severus pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything.

That was just as terrible of an idea. Luna was about seventy percent of Harry’s impulse control, and losing her in any way, shape, or form would send him off the deep end.

None of these options were good.

In fact, all of them were terrible, and he was not looking forward to seeing what would happen when Harry realized what they had done.

All he could do was hope that his student realized that he had genuinely tried to prevent any of this from happening in the first place, because he knew, full well, that this was going to end with someone’s head on a pike.

“Well… I suppose we’ll have to summon our students, then.” Minerva said quietly, shaking her head.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Severus agreed quietly, standing up. “I’ll go and retrieve them.”

“Thank you, Severus. And good luck.”

He nodded the slightest bit, before he made his way out of the headmistress’ office, his heart clenching in his chest.

Yes, this was going to be a complete and utter disaster.

—

The Black Lake was below freezing, at least, that’s what Harry thought it was.

It was living up to its name that morning, the water so dark it was like ink, matching the gloomy, grey sky that matched his mood.

Everything was cold as ice, everything except for him.

No, Harry was burning with a rage that was so visceral, so violent, that he thought he was going to rip Ludo Bagman’s head off with his bare hands if the man tried to touch him even one more time.

And he was filled with visceral rage because when he had woke up that morning, he had nearly sobbed in relief at the sight of Theo in his arms. His Theo, his beloved. His darling.

His love was safe, and not at the bottom of a lake.

But, that relief was short-lived as he sat up and realized that Draco, Hermione, and Luna weren’t in the room.

And oh, how he had nearly lost his mind at that.

Now, though, he was standing on the dock with Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric, all of whom were in varying stages of panic as they waited for Bagman, the bastard, to start the task. They all had Gillyweed in their hands, kept hidden from the judges, and were all just… Waiting.

Harry kept his eyes on the water, his jaw clenched so hard he felt like he was going to break his teeth.

Viktor came to stand next to him, his shoulders shaking as rage overtook his panic, and he turned to look at the shorter boy next to him.

“We get them back. No matter what.” He said firmly. “Even if that means we hurt the merpeople.”

“Trust me. If anyone tries to keep me from Lue, they’re dead.” He growled back.

They shared a brief nod, before adjusting their positions as Fleur and Cedric came up to join them, Bagman standing a few feet away so he could cast a Sonorus without completely rupturing their eardrums.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… Two… Three!” He called, before blowing a sharp tone on his whistle.

Without a moment’s hesitation, all four champions quickly made their way into the water, stuffing the Gillyweed into their mouths in unison.

The water was painfully cold, making his skin feel as though he had been set ablaze, rather than dunked into a near frozen lake, and it took every ounce of willpower that Harry had to not spit out the plant in his mouth and scramble back onto the dock.

He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could, but it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.

He didn’t have to wait long, thankfully, as it suddenly felt as though someone had wrapped a plastic bag around his head, and he dunked himself under the water.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning, so he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet, they, like his hands, had become elongated and webbed too.

He looked around a bit, spotting the other three champions as they got adjusted to their new, aquatic forms as well, giving them curt nods as he closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic for his friend’s familiar auras.

Distantly, he could tell that the water no longer felt as icy, and that he was actually rather comfortable, but that comfort only lasted until his magic found Luna’s.

It felt… Dulled. Like she was trapped, somehow, and her magic was trapped with her.

He didn’t like that feeling at all.

Harry opened his eyes again, a frown on his face, and he pointed down to where he felt the faint pulsing of Luna’s magic. Fleur and Cedric both nodded, diving down into the water, with himself and Viktor following close behind them.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the oncoming darkness. Forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones slowly came into view, the only constant being the three champions swimming close by, all of them terrified of what was to come.

They swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed.

Harry reached out once again, shivering at the way Luna’s magic was being dulled by whatever enchantments they had her under, but also the cold, sticky sensation of the merpeople’s magic filling the water around him, as well as a gentle warmth from his side.

Viktor had his wand in his hand, sending soft pulses of light forward in an attempt to guide them forward as much as possible, even if the light disappeared twenty feet ahead of them.

The seaweed was like a forest, and it was near impossible to see anything within it, which is why when long, bony fingers wrapped around Harry’s ankle, he whipped around and kicked as hard as he could without a second thought, feeling the sharp crunching of bones beneath his feet as the Grindylow’s skull was crushed.

Fucker.

He turned his head, spotting Fleur, who was being dragged down by a group of the little bastards, and instead of doing the logical thing like trying to scare them off, he simply held out his hand and clenched his fist.

He didn’t know how well his magic would work underwater, but the sight of one of the Grindylows crunching into a fleshy blob was certainly encouraging.

The rest of them scattered after that, thankfully, and while Cedric was looking at him in horror, all Fleur did was nod at him in thanks before they continued on their journey.

They swam on for what felt like hours, but really could only have been fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, passing over vast expanses of black mud, before they faintly heard a familiar song.

“An hour long you’ll have to look, and to recover what we took…”

Harry turned sharply, the other three champions following suit, and they soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it, carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid.

Harry swam past the rock, following the mersong like his life depended on it.

“...Your time’s half gone, so tarry not, lest what you seek stays here to rot…”

He grit his teeth. Fuck the merpeople, he was getting Luna, Draco, and Hermione back if he had to kill them all just to do it.

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces, ones that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects’ bathroom.

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks.

He wasn’t all that surprised at their appearances, because he’d been seeing them for four years at this point, but it was uncomfortable to not have a solid barrier of glass between himself and the merpeople.

They leered at Harry and the other three wixen as they swam past, and a few of them emerged from their caves to watch them better.

Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more and more common. There were gardens of weeds around some of them, and he even saw a pet Grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching them all eagerly, pointing at their webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another.

Harry sped around a corner and froze, his eyes going wide.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue, a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder.

Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Draco and Luna’s hair stood out in the murky water, like beacons of light floating around their heads, and Hermione was tied between the two of them. Thankfully, they all looked to be completely asleep, their heads lulling onto their shoulders as steady streams of bubbles left their noses.

He launched himself forward, rushing to Luna’s side without a second thought. Fleur was with Hermione only seconds later, while Viktor was gently cradling Draco’s face as though he were made of glass, his expression filled with fear and grief as he checked his lover over for wounds.

His own hands came up to caress Luna’s cheeks, her sleeping form visibly distressed, as though she were locked in a nightmare.

She needed to get out of the water. Soon.

Harry dove down to the thick seaweed that bound them all to the fin of the stone merperson, pulling at it for a moment until he realized that it wasn’t going to just rip, unfortunately. After a moment, he wildly waved his hands at the rest of the champions, miming for them to move out of the way. He moved as well, holding his hand out and carefully lining it up with the seaweed bonds.

With a small flash of light, and a rush of water, the seaweed bindings on all four of them were cut.

He grinned, moving to swim back over to Luna and grab her, but was suddenly stopped by a sharp pain in his side, one that made him gasp.

When he looked down, he realized that one of the merpeople had stabbed him with their spear, a red fog of blood slowly oozing from the wound as the stone tip disappeared into his flesh and muscle.

“Only supposed to save one.” The one wielding the spear said coldly. “You’re supposed to leave the others-”

Harry was not interested in his bullshit, and punched the merman square in the face, which caused the rest of the merpeople around him to go into a frenzy.

Their grey, clawed hands grabbed at him, yanking him down further into the water, and he began to thrash right back, striking out with his fists and feet as much as he could, not wanting to cast too much magic so close to his unconscious friends.

He could feel Viktor trying to swim down to help him, but he whipped his head towards his friend, angrily shaking his head as he pointed at Luna and Draco’s unconscious, drifting bodies, then back up towards the surface.

The message was plain and clear.

Get them out.

Viktor hesitated, but after an angry glare from Harry, he nodded, quickly swimming his way back towards his boyfriend and friend, wrapping his strong arms around them both and heading up towards the surface with Fleur, Cedric, and their hostages in tow.

Now that the people he cared about were out of the way, he turned back towards the merpeople, his face splitting into an angry grin.

“Fuck you, you grabby bitches.” He said, the words coming out in a large, silent bubble of air, and he reached out, grabbing one of them by the face, and letting a burst of magic come flying out of his hands.

He watched, in a mixture of delight and horror, as an underwater explosion occurred, blasting the merperson whose face he held into smithereens and launching everyone else back, including himself.

Another sharp pain, this one in the back of his head, radiated through his entire body as he collided with the stone statue, his vision swimming as he felt his mind grow foggy.

Ah, shit… This was the forest fire all over again.

As Harry felt himself start to drift away, he looked back up towards the surface, a small smile on his lips.

Hopefully they had some sort of plan to retrieve anyone who was stuck underwater… He was going to need it.

And that was the last thought that crossed his mind before he fell unconscious, landing on the stone floor of the village square, his chest tightening a bit as it became harder and harder to breathe.

This was it.

—

Daphne could have sobbed in relief when she saw her girls and Draco emerge from beneath the icy waves of the lake, rushing to the edge of the dock with Sirius and Blaise, helping to pull everyone up and out of the water before wrapping them in magically warmed blankets. She pulled Hermione and Luna against her chest, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she kissed the top of their heads.

“Oh thank Merlin. Oh thank Merlin.” She whispered fiercely. “You’re alright. You’re okay.”

Luna’s teeth were chattering, and she simply pulled her closer, turning to start fussing over Draco as well, even though her friend was wrapped tightly in Viktor’s arms like a straightjacket, the older boy’s face grief stricken and terrified.

She looked around, her smile falling as she realized something.

…Harry hadn’t come up with the rest of the group.

“...Viktor? Cedric? Where’s Harry?” She asked quietly. Cedric, who was aggressively trying to dry off Cho, turned to look at her.

“He told us to come up without him.” He explained quickly. “He- He pissed off the merpeople. Freed everyone in one fell swoop and-”

“And he’s still down there?” Blaise asked, his voice rising in pitch as panic settled in. Theo, who had been running over to greet his boyfriend and make sure he was well wrapped up and warmed, froze mid stride, his expression falling into one of complete and utter horror at the news.

Daphne whipped her head towards Sirius, the dawning realization that she would need to keep her head about her making her voice that much harsher as she snapped.

“Get Bagman. Now.” She said, jumping up to her feet and passing Luna and Hermione to Blaise and Theo, a silent order to warm them up in her eyes as she jumped off the dock and onto the bank, staring out at the lake as she tried to figure out where, exactly, they had all come from.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to swim out there in time to get Harry, but she wanted to at least do… Something.

Sounds of hushed panic began to fill the air as she fumbled for her wand, the rest of the spectators starting to realize that one of the champions was still stuck in the water, and both professors Volkov and Snape came sprinting down to the bank alongside Daphne as she thrust her arm out.

“Accio Harry Hartford’s shirt!” She shouted, hoping she was pointing her wand in the right direction.

There was a slight tugging against her wand, but it was nothing like how it was supposed to be with a summoning charm.

He was too far for it to work, or there was something keeping him from coming back up to the surface.

“Fuck, Professor-” She began to say, turning to look at Snape, who was staring out at the water with a look of horror.

Daphne paused for a moment, the expression so jarring that it snapped her out of her panic for a moment. She slowly turned back towards the lake, her eyes blowing wide when she realized what her professor was staring at.

Or, well, what was rapidly rising out of the water.

Sometimes, she really did forget that there was a giant squid- one which could be more appropriately described as an actual kraken, truthfully- living in the lake.

And sometimes, she watched said kraken lift its many arms out of the water, the limp body of one of her best friends wrapped tightly in one arm, before it all but lobbed Harry into the air.

And right towards herself and two of her professors.

“OH SHIT!” Was all Professor Volkov could say before he took off running backwards, his eyes locked on Harry’s flying form as he held his arms out. Somehow, he was able to catch the boy.

Granted, he didn’t so much as catch him as act as a crash pad for him, but not a single bit of Harry smacked into the ground, so Daphne was considering it a catch.

Instead, Volkov took the brunt of the hit, slamming into the cold, hard ground so hard Daphne honestly thought something had broken, but with the way he sat up only a moment later, only a bit dazed, that notion was knocked out of her head entirely.

She rushed over to their sides, quickly checking Harry over for any major injuries and wincing when she saw the spearhead lodged in his side, the wound still leaking blood from the depth and ferocity of the wound.

“He needs treatment.” She said quietly, looking up as Snape approached as well, taking his student from a still dazed Volkov, who she helped to his feet.

Neville was at his other side in a moment, helping to brace their Transfiguration professor as they followed Snape up to the medical tent, where Madam Pomfrey was already rushing over in a panic.

The two of them got Volkov into a bed before they hurried back over to the rest of their friends, wanting to give Snape and Pomfrey enough space to treat Harry and make sure that he really, genuinely was okay.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively, kissing the side of her head as Bagman, whose voice was shaking like mad, called out the final scores.

And, despite the fact that Viktor had gotten first place due to bringing up two of the hostages, no one on the docks cheered.

Not a single one of them was happy about what had happened here today, and Daphne couldn’t help the anger she felt boiling in her chest at the judges.

This had gone much too far, much too quickly.

And deep down, she knew that everyone else had realized that too.

Chapter Text

“Why’d you do it?” Harry asked softly, leaning back in his chair as he adjusted his hat to block the sun from his eyes.

“Why did I do what?”

“Shoot yourself, I mean.”

Edward chuckled a bit, shaking his head as he took a sip from his bottle of beer, his tired eyes never leaving the sky above them. “...That’s a rather blunt question, you know.”

“But a fair one, I think, considering everything else I’ve learned.”

“True, true…” He grunted, sitting up a bit.

The garden was peaceful, and quiet, the quiet sounds of cars on the street outside muffled in his ears as he waited for his grandfather to speak again.

The Begonias were growing again.

“...I shot myself because I knew there was something wrong with me.” Edward said after a moment. “I wasn’t quite right anymore.”

“But you left Mum alone.” Harry pointed out, turning to look at him. “The day after she got married.”

“I regret that, I do, I just… I was tired, Harry. I can’t give you much more closure than that.”

“But I still don’t… I mean, I’ve wanted to do it a few times. I made an honest to god attempt last year, but-”

“There’s a difference between wanting to die, and wanting the pain to stop, love.” Edward shook his head, smiling at him. “You wanted the pain to stop, and I wanted to die. I knew Fiona was going to be alright, she had Gideon…”

“But-”

“Harry. You’re too young to be… To be so concerned about this. I made my choices, and you were stopped by other circumstances.”

“But you left her. You left Mum, and then her Mum left too.”

“I know.”

“So don’t you feel guilty? Your daughter was left behind to suffer because of choices you and your wife made.”

His grandfather sighed, but nodded.

“...I do. I feel guilty. Fiona didn’t deserve that.”

“So why did you do it?”

“Because… Because it was what needed to happen.” Edward said quietly. “...Blacks don’t live to be very old, Harry. That is our greatest curse. We spend our short lives experiencing hell on earth, and then we die when we reach true happiness. I don’t know why it had to be this way, but it was, and that was when I was supposed to die. I can only hope you don’t experience that same fate.”

He huffed a bit, settling back into his seat as he closed his eyes. “...Yeah, well… The world has it out for me, so…”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“Maybe you could have it out for the world in turn, then?”

Harry paused, turning to look at his grandfather in curiosity. When he didn’t speak again, Edward continued.

“You say the world has it out for you, and it definitely does, so why should you sit there and take it?” He asked, gently twisting the wedding ring on his finger. One of the same ones that was settled against Harry’s chest. “Fight back. Fight back, and win.”

“That’s… Harder than it sounds, you know. How do I fight the world?”

Edward smiled at him. “However you want. Because you, Harry Hartford, have plenty of knowledge stored away in that noggin of yours, and you were given spells and magic that other wixen would kill for.” He tapped his head. “...You just need some time to sort through it. And maybe a bit of help, if you know where to look.”

Harry frowned, sitting up and opening his mouth to speak, but a cold twinge at his cheek made him flinch.

“What the..?”

“Seems like it’s time for you to wake up, Haz.” The man next to him grunted, sitting up in his chair and stretching, before he took the wedding ring off of his finger and set it to the side. When Harry looked back up at him again, he sucked in a sharp breath.

The sight of a gaping hole in the side of his grandfather’s head, blood gushing out of it in buckets, exposing the grey matter within made him want to vomit.

“Good luck, kiddo.” Edward rasped out, blood dribbling out of his mouth as he spoke. “You’re gonna need it.”

—

Harry woke up with a scream.

He really hated doing that, but it happened once again.

Draco, who was at his side, gently dabbing at his face with a cool cloth, startled, wapping him straight in the face with the wet fabric on impulse as he jumped back, causing them both to freeze.

Then, they erupted into laughter.

“Oh- Merlin! Harry, I'm so sorry!” Draco gasped out through his giggles, rushing forward and pulling him into a tight hug, which Harry returned without a second thought. He burrowed his face into his friend’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank god you’re okay.” He whispered fiercely. “Luna? Hermione? They’re both okay too?”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s fine. No adverse effects except for a bit of a cold. You, however, are a completely different story.” His friend fussed gently, pulling away and gently feeling Harry’s face and the back of his neck, his shoulders only relaxing when he was sure that the other boy wasn’t fevering or anything of the sort. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. Something about the poison that merpeople rub into their spearheads before a hunt.”

“Wait- I was poisoned?” Harry gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I seriously wish I was. Madam Pomfrey looked ready to kill the merking for letting them stab you like that. They were under strict orders not to harm any of you!”

“Well… Fuck that guy, I guess.”

“Exactly. God, you should have seen Theo. He looked so fucking scared… Daphne was ready to kill someone, though. I still can’t believe how quickly she got her shit together.”

“Well, Daph’s a big sister, remember? She’s got big sister powers.”

“True, true… Merlin, you’re feeling okay though, right?” Draco asked him, his brows pinched with worry. “No aches, no pains? Headaches?”

“I feel fine, Dray.” Harry smiled, sitting up a bit and sucking in a sharp breath, his hand coming to clutch at his stab wound. “Ow…”

“You’re not fine.”

“Nope, not fine. Going back down…”

Draco sighed affectionately, carefully helping him lay back down on the bed and smoothing out his hair.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Uh… A book, maybe? And my boyfriend? Oh- and some strawberries?”

“...Do you just want like, a charcuterie board or something to share with Theo?”

“Oh my god, yes? Please?”

“Okay, okay.” He snorted, shaking his head as he scooted off the bed. “I’ll check with Madam Pomfrey and see if you’re fine to eat solids, but if you are, I’ll go and get that for you, I promise. I will get you your boyfriend, and a book, though.”

“You’re the best, Draco.” Harry smiled at him. “Best cousin in the world.”

“I’m your only cousin.”

“Fair enough.”

Draco rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he disappeared behind a curtain, his and Madam Pomfrey’s hushed voices just barely reaching him.

—

Narcissa,

Harry’s doing well! He woke up from his merperson poison coma and immediately asked for a charcuterie board, Theo, and a book, so that’s a good sign, right?

Draco, Luna and I are all just fine, too, although from the looks that some of our professors are giving the judges, none of them are happy. Sirius kept muttering about how he’s going to kill Bagman in his sleep, and I think Volkov offered to help hide the body?

I have no idea.

Anyways, I made some copies of Harry’s notes on his parent’s rings like you asked. I didn’t tell him why I needed them, but you know how he is, he doesn’t really care unless something gets damaged, and he knew I wasn’t gonna do anything to them.

I hope they help in your research!

Love,

Hermione

P.S. Say hi to Lucius, Ted, Andromeda, and the elves for us please! We love and miss them all so very very much!!!

-

Narcissa smiled a bit as she took out the many folded pieces of parchment from the parcel that Hermione had sent her. She’d been rather nervous about asking the girl to do something like this, worried that it would start to clue her in on what she was working on, but thankfully, Hermione’s trust in her meant she hadn’t questioned it too much.

She would tell the kids what she was working on eventually, but they had enough to stress over this year.

They just needed to worry about making it through the chaos.

The adults could handle the Horcruxes.

She made her way through the halls of Grimmauld Place, to where Andromeda had set up in the sitting room, books and parchments taken from the Grimmauld and Malfoy Manor libraries sprawled out around her. The Horcruxes, the locket and the stone, were still kept in their specialized box, but she could still feel the crawling sensation on the back of her neck.

“Found anything, Andie?” Narcissa asked softly, and her sister looked up, shaking her head a bit.

“Nothing new, Cissy. Just… The same few things. Horcruxes need a human sacrifice to be made, they can only be destroyed by completely destroying the object that contains it, and making more than one has never been done before.” Andromeda sighed, sitting back a bit and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “Did you get the info from the kids?”

“Yes. Hermione sent me copies of some of Harry’s notes from Fiona’s diaries. Specifically, ones where she mentions the rings. I know he’s been trying to understand them as well, so maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to get some information out of them…”

“I hope so, because I feel like I’m stuck. Ted can’t make sense of it either, and I’m about at my wits end.”

Narcissa winced a bit. “I’m sorry, Andie-”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head firmly. “I’m just complaining. You know I’ll always help you, especially when it comes to something like this…”

“Maybe we should take a short break, though… Have a spot of tea?”

“Or a glass of wine?”

“Ooh, wine. Red?”

Andromeda nodded, sitting up properly. “Kreacher! Could you bring us a bottle of wine, and… Ooh, some cheese and crackers?”

The elf appeared in an instant, his eyes bright as he carried a tray with a bottle of Bordeaux and two glasses, as well as a delightfully arranged cheese platter, he set it down on a conjured table for the two women, before he paused.

“...Are Miss Cissy and Miss Andie having hit a wall in their research?” He asked softly.

“A bit, yes.” Andromeda sighed, uncorking the bottle and pouring herself and Narcissa generous glasses, swirling hers around for a moment before she took a sip. “We have so much research at our fingertips but… None of it is what we need.”

Kreacher seemed to hesitate, wringing his hands worriedly as he looked between the two of them. Narcissa frowned a bit, setting her glass down.

“What is it, Kreacher, darling?”

“Oh… Forgive Kreacher for not mentioning it earlier, but… Master Regulus has research in his room.” The elf said quietly. “Kreacher looked for it when Miss Cissy first asked for the nasty necklace, but he could not bring himself to tear the room apart more…”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Regulus had something in his room that might be able to help them?

“Kreacher, can we go take a look in there?” She asked hurriedly, stumbling up to her feet. Andromeda followed suit, her grey eyes studying her sister fiercely. When Kreacher nodded, Narcissa all but booked it up the stairs, her boots clashing against the hardwood and shaking the house with every step.

She knew the way to Regulus’ bedroom like the back of her hand, even after not having raced to it in sixteen years. It was pure muscle memory that took her through the winding hallways, and up to the landing that had held Sirius and his brother’s bedrooms.

The nameplate on Sirius’ door was scuffed and scratched, but the one on Regulus’ was still in perfect condition.

With a whispered spell, Narcissa unlocked the door, pushing it open without a moment’s hesitation and freezing before she could cross the threshold, her breath catching in her throat.

In her haste to retrieve whatever knowledge Regulus had hidden up in this room, she had forgotten the grief and pain that still lingered in her body at the memory of her cousin.

Her first baby.

Andromeda’s hand came to rest at her shoulder, and she let out a small, pained whimper.

“I know, I know.” She whispered. “Let me go in. You stay here, okay?”

She nodded. It was all she could manage.

Her sister gently pushed past her and entered the bedroom, which looked exactly the way she remembered it from all those years ago.

Silver and green decorated the walls, as well as every other surface in the room, as well as the Black Family Crest, and the family motto.

Toujours Pur.

Narcissa sniffed at that, a bitter anger rising in her chest, but she shook her head, letting her eyes follow Andromeda’s careful movements throughout the room, still observing her surroundings.

The yellowed newspapers on the wall caught her attention, and she bit the inside of her cheek, already knowing what they were. Details of the many attacks at the beginning of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror, the murders he committed.

The innocents who had fallen to the madman he was.

Like Regulus, who had never even cast an Unforgivable. Who couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

No, Regulus had been a researcher for Him, someone who looked into ancient, dark magics and reported his findings. That was always what her baby cousin had been best at.

And yet, he had died too. Died because he had tried to help destroy evil incarnate.

“I found something.” Andromeda said, snapping her out of her train of thought and causing her to turn towards her big sister, who was holding two journals. One much older than the other, and much more worn in, judging from the way the pages warped and bent. “I think… I think it might be his research.”

“Let’s go look, then.” Narcissa replied quietly, with a firm nod, and the two of them quickly hurried out of Regulus’ childhood bedroom.

It was too painful to be in there for very long, so they closed and locked the door behind them too, keeping it sealed and safe for another day before they went back down to the sitting room, settling down on the floor, and opening the journals.

“Read them together?” Her sister asked, and she nodded again.

“Read them together.”

They opened the older looking journal first, the one with warped pages, their eyes flickering towards the name written on the very first page.

Dorea Black.

Narcissa pursed her lips, grabbing the sheets of parchment that Hermione had sent to her and bringing them up to the journal as well.

Then, they began to read.

-

Father thinks I don’t overhear him when he speaks to Mother in his study. He thinks I don’t know the awful things he says about Marius.

Why would he care, anyway? After all, in his mind, Marius is worthless. He’s a Squib, after all, so why should he receive any sympathy?

Why should it matter that he’s going to kill my brother the day after I wed Charlus?

Merlin and Morgana, I cannot lose my brother. Not after everything he has suffered through to protect me. Not after all the years he has protected me from their wrath, or taken the punishments for my indiscretions.

I have seven months to save him, seven months before I graduate from Hogwarts and marry my beloved, and I pray that Morgana guides my hands as I find a way to save him.

I’ll record my findings and thoughts here, so if any of my descendants need this knowledge as well, they can find it, every last thought and idea that came to mind as I searched.

I can only hope that this is never needed again.

-

A protection spell could work. Something strong, bound by blood.

He’s my brother, my blood should work.

-

Pollux and Irma just had their first child. An awful little girl named Walburga. She cries constantly, and only stops when she’s held at a certain angle.

Mother keeps complaining about her as well, which is why I know.

It’s cruel to think of an infant as awful, because as of now, she’s still just an infant. There is no cruelty in her yet, no malice, or illness… But I can see the person she will become.

She’s a Black, through and through. The eyes, the hair, every last bit of her is Pollux.

What a terrible fate for her.

-

Soul magic could work.

I would need a sacrifice.

I don’t know if I have the strength for that.

-

Secrets of the Darkest Art contains information on Horcruxes, and while it’s not much, I was able to locate the Horcrux ritual in one of Mother’s old texts.

I think I can rework it, if I try hard enough.

Something to protect him from unnatural harm, so he can only die by natural causes. No murder, no… No any of it.

Is that mad?

It probably is, but I have to try anyway.

-

Virgin Blood- that which has never been used in a ritual. I will use my own.

A container- two silver rings I stole from Cassie

Chant- written out in parchment, ready to be performed under a new moon

Sacrifices- one wixen, one muggle. I found a muggle man wandering the street outside Grimmauld, he stank of alcohol and disease, and he has the eyes of a predator. The world will be better off without him.

I still need a wixen sacrifice, and a ritual knife.

-

Charlus gave me a ritual knife. He didn’t ask questions, but begged me to be careful. I just have to wait for the new moon.

I have such a kind fiance.

-

May the gods forgive me, for I have killed in the name of my brother.

I killed a girl, Irma’s sister, alongside that disgusting muggle man from the street.

I do not regret it. I do not care for Irma, not the way I do for Marius.

She is not my blood, she is barely my family.

I will sympathize for her as she mourns, but I have more important things to worry about.

-

It worked. The rings worked. A piece of my soul has been trapped in each, as well as my blood.

It will not allow me to die, not truly, but what remains on earth of my soul will protect my brother and his descendants.

A purgatory of my own making, and yet one I am glad to trap myself within.

I will be wed in three weeks. I don’t know how I managed to do this, but I did.

I’ll give them to him as soon as I can.

-

Marius is gone. He fled late last night with the rings, and all the money I could take from the family vaults without Father becoming suspicious.

I will never see my brother again, but as long as he lives, I will be able to protect him.

He just needs to wear the ring. He, and his future bride, and I will be able to protect them from all harm.

He just needs to wear the ring.

—

Narcissa’s hands couldn’t stop shaking as she furiously wiped the tears from her eyes, and when she looked over at Andromeda, she was furiously writing down notes, comparing them with writings from Harry’s, looking for any sort of connection between them.

While she was focused on that, she gingerly picked up Regulus’ diary, running her fingers along the leatherbound cover with a shaky sigh.

After she took a moment to steel her nerves, she opened it to the last few pages, not wanting to delve too deep into his thoughts.

He deserved what little privacy he could keep, now that he was gone.

-

January 1st, 1979

If Dorea’s writings are correct, then that would explain the dark magic that I constantly felt around The Dark Lord.

He kept that locket on him for months before he asked for Kreacher’s assistance in hiding it, and he nearly killed the poor elf in the process. I thank the gods that I told Kreacher to come home after he was done.

He’s finally begun to heal, but I fear that his newfound paranoia will never leave. I should never have agreed to let him go.

Kreacher, I’m so sorry. You did not deserve this.

I’ll make this right. I swear.

R.A.B.

-

January 18th, 1979

It was difficult to remake the locket from my memories, but Kreacher helped, giving over what he could remember from that night.

He’s still fevering, and shaking, and I don’t remember the last time I slept.

I was supposed to return to Hogwarts last week, but Mother is too lost in grief over Father’s death to have realized fully that I haven’t left.

Sirius always knew how to navigate her when she’s drunk. I never quite figured it out.

Oh, Sirius…

I can only hope that my plan will allow him to live. He deserves it, he…

I can’t dwell on him. I have work to do.

R.A.B.

-

February 2nd, 1979

Kreacher is much better. He was able to eat properly today, and he even wanted to fold some laundry.

I hate knowing that I will have to leave him, but I can’t imagine that I would survive, even if I was able to make it out of the cave.

Death is a fickle thing.

R.A.B.

-

February 14th, 1979

I sent Pandora, Barty, Dorcas, Evan, and Cissy gifts today.

They’ll be the last ones I ever get to send them.

I think I’ll go and see Cissy tomorrow evening, before I go.

I want my last memories of her to be happy.

R.A.B.

-

February 15th, 1979

Lucius invited me back for drinks this weekend. I said yes, of course.

I wonder if Cissy knew this would be the last time she saw me. She hugged me so tight before I left, and her hand smoothed over my head the way she would when I would cry, like she knew I needed that last bit of comfort before I was gone.

I wanted to beg her to save me, to take me away, to run away so we never have to follow anyone’s commands ever again. Just the way we did when we were little kids, making plans to disappear from the world and live on our own, like the children in our stories.

I miss those days.

That’s what Cissy always reminds me of. That safety of our youth, that unconditional love that she always showed me. She showed it to Sirius too, even if he stopped returning it years ago now.

My clothes still smell like her perfume.

I hope that scent is the last thing I experience before I’m dead.

That last bit of comfort from the person who loved me enough to stay, no matter what.

And now I have to leave her.

If you ever read this, Narcissa, I love you.

And this final act of mine is for you, in the hopes that you are freed from a prison that the world has trapped you in against your will.

Because you, cousin, deserve so much more.

Love,

Regulus Arcturus Black

-

“Oh… Reg…” Narcissa whispered, her voice breaking. “I love you too…”

“Cissy?” Andromeda asked softly, her hand coming to rest on her sister’s shoulder, a worried look on her face. “Cissy, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I-... Regulus’ diary…”

“Oh, baby girl…”

She carefully bundled Narcissa up in her arms, kissing the top of her head and letting her hair fall over her little sister like a shield.

And she wept. Wept the way she only could in the safety of Andromeda’s arms, because there was no one to judge her here.

Her sister said nothing, but she ran her fingers through Narcissa’s hair, and used her nails to gently scratch up and down her back, and she said nothing. There were no words she could say that would soothe the pain that ebbed through her body as she relived the grief that had consumed her once upon a time.

But, she could not wallow. Not now.

And so, she let the wounds in her heart scab over once again, not quite healed, and not quite open. Ever present, yet sealed shut.

A temporary solution.

Narcissa took a slow, deep breath, pushing herself back up and wiping her eyes, taking another few deep breaths until she had steadied herself completely.

“...Were you able to find anything useful?” She asked softly, her voice trembling just a bit as she spoke.

“I think so.” Andromeda replied, her worried gaze not leaving her sister’s. “Mostly just… Confirming a few things.”

“Like?”

“Dorea’s rings act like a Horcrux, of sorts, except they don’t… They don’t keep a person alive.” She began to explain, grabbing a spare piece of parchment to start writing out her thoughts. “Because they were made with love, and not malice, or hate… They cling to certain parts of people. The shards of Dorea’s soul that were split off contained nothing but love and a desire to protect.”

“Right, she just wanted to keep her brother safe.”

“Magic like that, it… It continues to grow, I suppose. And because they were wedding rings, they were constantly supplied with love, and adoration, and that… That intense desire to protect what's yours, and she spelled them to where the wearers of the rings could only die from natural causes, as long as they had the rings on their fingers.”

Narcissa nodded, a frown on her face as Andromeda’s words settled over her.

“So… What does that..?” She asked, which is when her sister smiled, a sad, tired sort of smile.

“...It means that Gideon and Fiona shouldn’t have died that night.”

Narcissa’s blood froze in her veins, then, a sense of dread settling over her and weighing her to where she sat. She couldn’t move even if she tried, every limb felt as though it were made of stone, and she was just… Paralyzed.

Paralyzed by the grief of knowing that Regulus was going to die, by the pain that ebbed through her body as she realized that if Fiona and Gideon had just been wearing their rings, then Harry wouldn’t have had to suffer the way he had.

And a fresh wave of tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She didn’t have anything to say after that, and it seemed as though Andromeda didn’t either.

Because really, what could they say?

Chapter Text

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can get you down in Hogsmeade, Harry?” Daphne frowned a bit, looking over at where the boy had stationed himself, rather comfortably, upon a large cushion that he had conjured for himself and Theo, who had put himself on coddling duty. “Sweets? Lunch from The Three Broomsticks? Butterbeer?”

“Nope. I’m… I’m good.” Harry nodded a bit, his voice slightly slurred as he gave her a thumbs up. “Just go have fun. I’m gonna, lay here.”

She sighed a bit, shaking her head.

Unfortunately, due to the poison that merpeople used- a disgusting mixture of Plimpy Toxin, Kelpie Blood, and their own saliva- Harry’s wound had gotten infected.

Again.

So, he was on a hardcore potions regime, assigned to him by Professor Volkov, who was ‘fed up with everyone at Hogwarts’ inability to properly take care of students’, involving a level three painkiller potion.

Which led to a very, very stoned Harry.

“I’m gonna keep him horizontal so he doesn’t fall over again.” Theo sighed affectionately, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s head as Daphne’s own made her way over to her, wrapping his arms around her neck from behind and resting his head atop hers. She leaned back against Neville, a small smile on her face. “Could you get me a chicken burger from the Three Broomsticks? And some chips?”

“You got it.” Neville nodded. “We’ll bring one back for Harry too.”

“You two are the best. Have fun on your date, be safe.”

“Thanks, Theo. We love you guys.”

“Loove you!” Harry called, sticking his hands up into the air and accidentally slapping Theo square in the face. “Oh no!”

Daphne snorted, letting Neville lead her out of the common room so they could start heading down to Hogsmeade to meet their friends, who had all left nearly an hour before.

Spring was on its way, which meant that most of the snow had melted, making the grounds filled with mud and other muck, which made their trek down to the village dirty, and she’d needed to hitch her skirt up almost the entire time to avoid it dragging through.

“Regretting not wearing pants?” He asked her softly, a small smile on his face.

“Absolutely.” She huffed in reply. “I just wanted to look pretty for our date…”

“First of all, you’re always pretty. In fact, you’re gorgeous. Second of all, you could have worn anything and I would have said the same thing.”

“You’re such a fucking sap, Neville.” Daphne laughed a bit, and he blushed a bright red, like he’d just realized what he’d said, and ran a hand through his hair as he looked away.

“Sorry…” Neville said softly.

She shook her head, shifting her skirt to one hand so she could loop her free arm with his.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, you know.” She reassured him. “It’s really sweet. I just… I’m really bad at taking compliments.”

“That’s okay. I am too.”

They shared a small smile, and she gently rested her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling over his body like a blonde curtain. When they finally made it down to Hogsmeade, Neville immediately started leading her towards The Magic Neep.

Her eyes lit up at that, already excited to see whatever new plant had caught his attention.

And, she didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was.

“Yes! They have it!” Neville gasped, pulling away and rushing over to the pre-potted plants. Daphne followed close behind, tilting her head a bit.

“What’s this one, love?” She asked softly, and he grinned.

“Mallowsweet! Draco and I were talking about some of the brewing capabilities of it, and we think that it could, possibly, be used to help Hermione’s potions go down easier.” He explained, being appropriately vague as they always were when it came to their friend’s lycanthropy. While a majority of the school was aware of it, they still couldn’t openly discuss it without inviting any more drama into their lives. “You know how bitter they are, after all.”

“Right. And sugar makes them useless.” Daphne nodded. “But Mallowsweet is… Well… Sweet?”

“Yes! It's a completely natural sweetener, and we thought that, maybe, possibly, cooking it down into an extract and adding small amounts to the potions, just to see how much is needed for it to actually work, and how much it takes to make the potions ineffective.”

“If that works, you will have revolutionized the wolfsbane potion, you know.”

Neville paused, his eyes going wide, and he laughed a bit, shaking his head. “If it works, it was all Draco’s idea. I’m just there to help.”

“You still provided the Mallowsweet, Nev.” Daphne chided, a gentle frown forming on her face. “Draco wouldn’t let you not take any credit, anyways.”

“Ah… We’re getting ahead of ourselves, you know? We haven’t even made the test batches yet…”

She frowned more, her green eyes boring into his soft brown, and he looked away sheepishly. Fully knowing that she was being a hypocrite, Daphne slowly raised a brow as she stared at her boyfriend, as if she were challenging him to deny the fact that he was, at least, attempting to do something incredible.

And, judging by the way his face turned a brilliant red, she knew she was winning.

“Let’s go buy this Mallowsweet.” Daphne smiled softly, finally letting up on her stern glare as she kissed his cheek. “Because you, Neville Longbottom, are going to do amazing things with it, and I know that for a damn fact.”

“Daph…” Neville murmured, his face hidden by his bangs, but unable to hide the small smile that pulled at his lips as she gently pulled him up towards the counter.

“Nope, no more denying your amazingness. I’m going to kiss self esteem into you if you don’t stop being self deprecating right now.”

“Oh, well… You know that’s just more reason for me to be self deprecating, right?”

“How dare you use my logic against me.”

“I’m rather good at that, aren’t I?”

Daphne huffed, although there was no real venom to the sound as she stood on her toes to kiss his jaw.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

He grinned at her, a crooked, boyish expression that made her heart pound in her chest, and heat rose in her cheeks.

Damn his adorableness.

Daphne laughed a bit, following him back out after they paid for the Mallowsweet, heading back out onto the High Street.

Before they could turn and and start heading to the next shop, however, she paused, spotting a strange, cloaked man making his way towards the Three Broomsticks, walking with such a ferocity that it worried her for a moment.

What the hell was wrong with that guy?

That worry was dissipated, however, by the sight of Draco and Viktor a ways away, both of them wildly waving their arms in an attempt to flag them down. The latter gestured towards Honeydukes, in a silent question of whether or not they wanted to join them.

And, of course they did, so they quickly hurried over to their friend’s sides, the thought of strange men in cloaks disappearing entirely as the walls of candy and other sweets came into view.

—

Ivan didn’t consider himself a good person.

He wasn’t a bad person, either, but he certainly wasn’t good.

Neutral, is the best way to put it, if he was being entirely honest with himself. Maybe with a bit of a dark leaning.

He’d spent so much of his life following a chain of command, doing whatever was needed of him for the good of the people around him. Whatever they needed, he would do.

Whatever she needed, he would do.

Her dirty work, to be concise. A dangerous political opponent found dead in the canals, a would be assasin’s home burned to the ground with her inside, or even something as simple as guarding her and her son when on foreign grounds.

Which, is why he had absolutely no qualms about beating the monkey shit out of Ludo Bagman for both swindling his students, and putting their lives at risk.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a soft spot for Fred and George Weasley, he really would. They didn’t get up to too much mischief when he was around, likely because of the fact that he was a rather terrifying individual even when he was trying not to be, but what little, harmless bits they did get into made him laugh, so he never punished them too harshly.

So, when George had come to him upset, explaining that Ludo Bagman owed them money from the World Cup, and had all but refused to pay them back?

He had added an extra little step on his rather long checklist.

Which, was the reason he was standing over Ludo, his knuckles split, bloody, and bruised, although not nearly as bad as the other man’s face.

He knelt down carefully, adjusting his footing due to the sharp pain that shot up his left hip from dislocating it earlier in the day, and he grabbed Ludo by his chin.

“Now. I want you to repeat how much fucking money you owe those boys.” He growled. “Every last Knut. Say it.”

“T-two… Two thousand Galleons… Five hundred Sickles… And Twenty-seven Knuts. F-for the… For the wait… And having s-stolen their money in the first place…”

Ivan nodded the slightest bit. “Now. You are either going to write a check for that amount of money, and hand it over, so I can give it to them, or you are going to take every last coin you owe them out of your account while I watch, because I will not allow you to swindle my fucking students.”

Ludo nodded, his eyes wide and terrified as his head was dropped. He stepped back, just a bit, his eyes never leaving the other man as he scrambled to sit up, reaching into the pockets of his robes until he produced a checkbook, quickly scribbling out the amount of money he owed and signing it before handing it over to Ivan.

He looked it over for a moment, before he nodded approvingly, kneeling down to look at Ludo once again.

“Now was that really that hard? Hm?” Ivan smiled, tilting his head. “And you remember what I said I would do to you if you said a word about this to anyone at all?”

The other man nodded rapidly.

“Good boy. Now… Run along.”

Ludo scrambled up to his feet, bracing himself on the wall as he hurried away.

After taking a moment to wipe off his knuckles, and grab his cane off the wall, Ivan began to make his way back into the castle, pleased about the fact that most of the students were out at Hogsmeade today.

He was displeased, however, because he had to climb many, many stairs to get up to the tower that housed his lions, and his hip was in a terrible way that day.

But, the feeling of breaking a bastard’s nose under his fists was never one he would pass up.

A small smile pulled at his lips as he walked, the phantom sensation of bones crunching against his knuckles sending a small shiver of delight up his spine as he made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, telling the Fat Lady the password- Fairy Lights- and making his way inside.

The sight of the two redheaded boys on one of the many sofas in the room made him hum, and he limped over to them.

“Misters Weasley.” Ivan said softly, causing both boys to sit up sharply, their eyes wide and mildly panicked. “Do not fret. I am simply here as a messenger.”

He held out the check to George, smiling a bit.

“Courtesy of one Ludo Bagman. I believe this is what the two of you are owed.”

The boy hesitantly took the check from him, looking at the number written out and letting out a painful sounding noise. Fred jumped up to look at it as well, an equally shocked sound escaping him as he slapped a hand over his mouth.

“This is- this is way too much!” George tried to protest. “We didn’t-”

Ivan shrugged a bit. “That was what he had written out. I simply delivered it as I said I would.”

Fred eyed him suspiciously, his eyes flicking down towards his professor’s damaged hands. “Sir… How did you..?”

“Do not worry. Simply a bit of an injury.” He shook his head, grabbing his wand and casting a few quick healing spells upon his hands, stitching the skin back together and healing the bruises. “Now… If I may ask, what are you planning to use this money for?”

George was the one to eye him suspiciously, then, and Ivan laughed a bit.

“Sorry, sorry… I was simply curious. I suppose I was hoping that you would tell me you would be investing this money into these brilliant pranks and jokes of yours.”

They paused at that, small smiles forming on their faces.

“You think they’re brilliant?”

“Who would not? Your Canary Creams are delightful!”

George turned bright red, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. “...You’re one of the first people to say that, sir. Most people think we’re just, wasting our time with the whole joke shop thing…”

“Yeah.” Fred continued. “Even our Mum. She’s still furious about our O.W.L. scores.”

“Education is not everything, boys.” He shook his head a bit, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. “And maybe that is something I should not tell you, as a professor, but… The two of you have the type of minds that do not benefit from traditional education. You know what you want to do, do you not?”

Both boys nodded in unison.

“Then go for it. Screw what anyone else says. You… You two have something special, you know? Laughter is something that is sacred. It heals, it brings light, and joy, even in the darkest times. The fact that the two of you can create joy so easily… I would have failed you as a professor if I did not help you nurture that ability.”

“...Sir, did you just…” Fred whispered, his eyes blowing wide.

“Give you permission to keep making your inventions? Yes. Just do not get caught. I happen to quite like your Skiving Snackboxes. Although… If I could make one recommendation?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Your nosebleed nougat? Bit heavy on the nosebleed. Not enough nougat.”

“Fair enough. We’ve been thinking about reformulating it, anyways.”

“Ah, very good. I will leave you to it, then. Good luck, boys.”

“Thank you, professor!”

—

Luna looked up at herself in the bathroom mirror, her breaths ragged as she stared at her reflection. Tears, snot, and blood were all leaking down her face, and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a ragged sob.

It felt rather cliche, the breakdown in the bathroom, but it was the only place where she could have even a moment of quiet to try and process the things she had seen.

It had hit her like a brick, the sudden, painful shock that ricocheted through her body as her vision went white, flashes of people she had never seen before, and some she had, racing through her mind.

That drowning boy, the terror in his eyes as he was pulled beneath the water by dozens of awful, rotted hands, his silent begging for someone- anyone- to come and save him, making her heart clench.

A man in dark robes, his face split into a sick, sadistic grin that made her skin crawl as he cast spell after spell, torturing someone in front of him as men in masks stood around him.

Harry’s horrific screaming as he lay broken and bloody upon the grass, which was rapidly dying around him even as they rushed to his side.

Daphne, clutching another girl to her body as though the girl would die if she let go, grief and panic evident in her gaze.

Fire. So much fire.

And strangest of all, she saw one final man. One in a prison cell, with one white eye, and one blue. He had no teeth, and yet he smiled at a boy who knelt in front of him.

They spoke to one another as friends, as people who had been hurt by the same man.

She didn’t know what they were speaking of, what they were going to say to one another, or what knowledge would come from their meeting, but she knew that it was going to be important.

Luna sniffed, wiping her eyes as she grabbed paper towels, trying to clean herself up as much as possible so she could return to Blaise and Hermione’s sides out in the Three Broomsticks. She knew they were probably sitting there, worried and afraid about what had just happened to her, of what sort of vision she may have just had.

But, she had no idea what to say to them about what she’d seen.

It took her a few minutes to clean herself up properly, her shoulders trembling as the last of her painful, hiccupping sobs wracked her body.

It was times like this she missed her Mum the most, the comfort that she would give her when her visions were this bad had been what kept her sane through them. Her Dad did his best, but he had never truly learned how to deal with them.

At least, that’s what she assumed, because he generally left her to her own devices when one of her visions was as debilitating as the one she had just had.

So, after a few more moments, and a quick wash of her face in the sink, she made her way back out of the bathroom, heading over to her friends in their booth and snuggling up to Blaise’s side, who immediately wrapped her up in his arms like he could protect her from whatever she had seen in her mind.

“Do you wanna go back up to the castle?” He whispered softly, kissing the top of her head. “I can carry you.”

“No, no, I’m okay…” Luna whispered back. “I’m just tired…”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked. “It’s really no trouble. Harry would probably be excited to see you, you know. You could cuddle on his big cushion?”

“Maybe that is actually a good idea…”

“I’ll go get some boxes for our lunch. Blaise, can you-”

“Of course.” He nodded firmly, carefully scooting himself and Luna out of the booth, before he helped her up onto his back, her arms sliding around his neck as he hooked her legs around his waist. “Comfy?”

“Mhm…” Luna nodded a bit. “But… I’m not too heavy?”

“Lue. Carrying you is like carrying a couple of grapes. I could walk around like this all day and not even realize it.”

She giggled a bit, nuzzling his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Her magic tingled at her left, and she let out a soft hum when Hermione, paper bag of boxed food in hand, rested her free one on her back.

“Ready to go, Lue?”

“Mhm.”

Blaise adjusted her after a moment, before he followed Hermione out of the pub. She opened her eyes the slightest bit, a small frown forming on her lips when she saw Karkaroff sitting down at the bar, a glass of bourbon in his hand, and a drunken smile on his face.

Something about that scene gave her the heebie-jeebies, and she’d already dealt with enough stress that day.

So, she burrowed her face back into Blaise’s shoulder, and let that worry drift away.

She didn’t care what happened to Karkaroff, anyways.

—

“Hello, Igor.” An all too familiar voice said quietly, sending a chill straight up his spine. He hadn’t heard that voice in years, and he had prayed that he would never hear it again.

And yet, there he was. Theron Nott, his face shrouded by a cloak, and yet… Igor knew him like the back of his hand.

Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he had consumed, he had never felt more sober in his entire fucking life.

“...Theron.” Igor was barely able to rasp out. “It… It has been a long time.”

“Yes, yes it has.”

The other man sat down next to him, a frown on his face as his dark eyes stared into his very soul. He raised a hand up, softly ordering a glass of whisky, and Igor had to fight off every instinct in his body to not take off running.

Theron was a far better wizard than he was, and he knew that for a fact.

He glanced around a bit, hoping to see someone, anyone, really, who could help him.

Instead, he was greeted with a bunch of Hogwarts students, and none of his own.

Damn it.

“...What do you want from me?” He asked, his shaking hand lifting his drink to his lips, taking a slow, careful sip.

“It’s not what I want, Igor.” Theron shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips as he picked up his own drink. “Because, if I was getting what I wanted? You would be dead. No… What I want means nothing in comparison to what He wants.”

Igor shuddered, his gaze flickering down towards his right arm, where his Dark Mark burned into his skin.

“And… And what is it that He wants?”

“You fucked up, Igor. All those years ago now… When you sold out our comrades to the Ministry, just to get yourself out…” He laughed a bit, shaking his head again. “And Master is not happy with you for it. So, if you want to stay alive..? You’re going to do exactly what he wants.”

He felt frozen in place, his heart pounding in his chest and making him dizzy.

The dull ache that had been plaguing him for nearly a year now flared, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Igor nodded without thinking. “Y-yes. What does he want me to do?”

Theron smiled. The cold, sadistic smile that he remembered so vividly, and pulled an envelope from the inside of his robes, sliding it over to the other man.

“The full details of your task are within.” He said simply. “But… To give you the simplest of instructions… You are going to make sure that the half-breed boy named Harry Hartford ends up where he belongs.”

“And… And where is that..?”

“To our Master. And if you do this right? You won’t be caught. So don’t fuck it up, or else I get to have my fun with you.”

Theron stood, then, downing the rest of his whisky and setting a few coins on the counter to pay. He didn’t spare Igor another glance as he fixed his hood and strode right out of the pub, leaving him frozen and terrified in his seat, the knowledge of what he had to do sending him into a spiral.

He had to send a boy, a child, to his death.

He didn’t like Hartford, in the slightest, but… He had helped Viktor with both of the first tasks, and Igor had to send him into what he was sure would be a painful, agonizing death.

…He carefully tucked the envelope into his robes, and held his hand up, ordering himself two more glasses of bourbon.

At least he could be drunk as he dealt with his turmoil, and maybe, just maybe, he could drink himself to death, and not have to be involved at all.

Chapter Text

The comforting sensation of Theo’s fingers carding through his hair as Harry laid on his chest made him let out a small, happy sigh. He adjusted his position the slightest bit, maneuvering his arms under his boyfriend’s back to hug him, as Theo moved his legs apart to let him lay between them.

“Better?” He asked softly.

“Better.” Harry replied with a smile, closing his eyes once again.

It was the first properly warm day in a while, and the two of them were taking advantage of the Easter holiday and spending time outside, lounging on a blanket in the warm sunlight by the lake and taking some much needed time for themselves.

Theo hummed happily, sliding one hand down to Harry’s back while keeping his other hand in his boyfriend’s hair, dragging the tips of them up and down his spine, catching the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up bit by bit. He snorted, nuzzling his face into his chest.

“I’m not taking off my shirt, love.” Harry muttered. “Snape is down in the Greenhouses, and knowing him, he’ll sense that we’re down here and come bother us. I’d rather not deal with that shirtless.”

“Lame.”

“Do you want Snape to try and give us the talk? Because I think I would actually rather die. I think he’d rather die than do that, too.”

“...That’s fair, yeah.”

Harry snickered, pushing himself up a bit and leaning up to press a kiss to Theo’s lips, smiling against the contact as his boyfriend tilted his head, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as they pulled away.

Theo grinned, and quick as a flash, he flipped them over, pinning Harry down atop the blanket and making him yelp.

“Hi.” He breathed, smiling down at him.

“Hi.”

A soft whine pulled from his throat as Theo began to press feather-light kisses against his jaw and neck, his eyes falling closed as the gentle touches moved lower and lower, tugging his shirt to the side ever so slightly so he could kiss at his collar bone.

“Mm… You like doing this, don’t you?” Harry murmured as his hand slid into his boyfriend’s curls. “Every time we cuddle you always end up attached to my neck… Like a vampire…”

“Yeah, I like it.” Theo chuckled a bit, propping himself up on his elbows so he could kiss the other boy’s nose. “Dunno why. I think it’s just because it’s you.”

“You’re such a sap… I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry. Now… I’m gonna live up to the fact that you called me a vampire.” He grinned, and Harry gasped, grabbing Theo’s face as he leaned in to try and bite him.

“Hey!” He laughed, only half trying to shove his face away. “No! No biting! You’re such a shit, Theo! Ack-”

He gently swatted at his boyfriend’s head when he bit down, just… Holding the soft flesh between Harry’s neck and shoulder in his mouth, his laughter muffled by it.

He only pulled away when he looked up and saw Draco, ever knowing when his friends were having a bit of time together, sprinting towards them at full force in a panic.

“Harry! Harry! Theo! I need advice-!” He shouted, tripping over his own feet, falling face first into the grass, and rolling the rest of the way over to them. He pushed himself up after a silent, horrified minute, a bit of blood dripping from his nose that he quickly wiped away. “I need to talk to you.”

“Holy shit mate are you okay?!” Theo almost shouted, climbing off of Harry and rushing over to their friend, wiping the dirt, grass, and blood off of his face and grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket. Draco held it against his nose to catch the blood as Harry sat up, looking at him worriedly.

“What’s going on, Dray?” He asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“It’s good news, I promise!” He laughed, scooting onto the blanket with them as Theo took his place at Harry’s side once again.

“Okay, lay it on us.”

“Viktor is going to officially start courting me!”

Theo gasped, his eyes going wide as a grin split across his face. “Oh Merlin, seriously? Draco, that’s amazing!”

“Isn’t it?” Draco beamed. “He wrote to Mum and Dad and everything! Look what he got for me!”

Their friend sat up a bit, pulling a necklace made of braided red cord out of his shirt. A small, hand carved, wooden Rod of Asclepius dangled at the end, which had small runes carved into the serpent that coiled around the stick..

“He made this for me. The red cord-”

“It symbolizes his love for you, while the charm is his way of showing his support for you.” Theo breathed out, a small laugh escaping him as he threw his arms around his friend’s neck. “Merlin, Draco, congratulations!”

Draco hugged back tightly, burying his face in his shoulder as he laughed as well.

“It doesn’t mean anything like marriage yet, don’t worry. It’s just his way of proving to me, and my parents, that he’s serious about making this work… I mean, we’re going to be separated a lot of the time, because I’ll be here at school, and he’ll be out on the road playing Quidditch, but…”

“But that’s a good thing. Even if this doesn’t end up lasting, it’s still a damn good first love. Shit, Draco, can I-?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He sat back, letting Theo study the necklace, while Harry watched the two of them in mild confusion.

He knew what courting was. He, and his mum, had watched plenty of period dramas and knew that it was a process that preceded engagements and marriage. He also knew that wixen, especially purebloods, had their own sort of courting rituals.

But, he also had no fucking clue what they were talking about, so he sat back, watching his boyfriend and one of their best friends chatter excitedly back and forth about what to expect, and the different sort of traditions that they had.

It took the two of them a few minutes to realize that Harry had gone silent, and when they did, Draco looked at him worriedly.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” He replied, looking at them in surprise. “Nothing’s wrong, why do you ask?”

“You just… Went silent. Are you upset about this or something..?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide. “What?! Oh, god, no! Draco, I’m so sorry! I just didn’t want to interrupt you and Theo, I had no idea what the two of you were really talking about, so I figured I would just sit back and let you talk.”

The two of them paused, staring at him in shock, before Theo gasped.

“Oh shit, I forgot that you didn’t know about all the courting rules and stuff… We never did any of that, did we?”

“No, we didn’t.” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m muggle raised, remember? Courting sorta, died out years ago.”

“No, no, you did start the courting process.” Draco corrected, looking at Theo sternly. “Remember? Harry’s twelfth birthday?”

Theo froze for a moment, his eyes flicking down to Harry’s right wrist, where the rose bracelet that he had given him two years before sat every single day. It, like the rest of his jewelry, was always on his person, like it was a part of his body, and not a decoration.

“...I completely forgot about that.” He whispered, a soft, sad chuckle escaping him. “I was fully planning to start courting you, but then… Then everything else happened…”

Harry’s gaze softened, and he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, kissing the side of his head. “Hey… Don’t even worry about it, love. Second year was its own special kind of hell, and it’s fine. I don’t need-”

“No it’s not!” Theo huffed. “I’m going to court you properly, I swear! You deserve that!”

“Theo…”

“Nope. No complaints. I’m fucking courting you and there is not a thing you can do to stop me.”

He snorted, shaking his head with a sigh as he leaned his head against Theo’s.

“Fine, fine… You stubborn ass… Just, nothing extravagant, okay? Please?”

“I make no promises… But I won’t go too crazy.”

Draco chuckled, standing up carefully and brushing himself off.

“Well… I’m sorry for interrupting your alone time. Again.” He said softly. “I’m oddly good at it. But, I’ll leave you two alone. Can’t wait to see what you come up with, Theo.”

And judging by the wolfish grin that formed on his boyfriend’s face as Draco walked away, Harry knew he was in for a wild ride.

—

Chocolates, flowers, love letters, and all sorts of other gifts had become a regular occurrence for Harry, and as much as he appreciated the fact that Theo was doing this for him, it made him feel… Oddly guilty.

He didn’t want his boyfriend to feel the need to spoil him like this. He didn’t need all of these extravagant presents to know that he was loved and adored, he didn’t need sweets left upon his desk or pillow every morning and evening, and he didn’t need a constant stream of flowers being handed to him.

All he needed was Theo, and as much as he wanted to just, tell him that, the way his boyfriend lit up every single time he accepted one of his gifts made his heart swell, and he just…

Couldn’t do it.

Which was why he was letting Theo drag him up to the Room of Requirement in the middle of the night, half asleep, and still in their pajamas. They were tucked safely under the invisibility cloak, pressed up against one another, and hurrying through the halls at full speed.

And, once again, any protests that Harry had died in his throat at the way Theo smiled at him.

God, he was weak to that smile.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered when they made it to the fifth floor corridor, and Harry obliged, letting himself be led into the room with a small chuckle escaping him.

“What on earth are you doing, love..?”

“Just trust me. It’s gonna be fun.”

“I trust you with my life, Theo.”

“Well that’s good to know!” His boyfriend laughed a bit, gently pushing him down onto what felt like a sofa, the light scent of burning candles surrounding them.

The Room of Requirement had a way of dulling Harry’s senses in a way he wasn’t quite sure he liked, mostly because it dulled his magic senses. Maybe it was because the room itself was magic, but it just gave him a sense of unease as he was completely surrounded by foreign magic that he couldn’t quite see past.

But, even still, Theo’s warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, and he couldn’t stop smiling at the sensation.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

So, he did.

When his vision cleared fully, Harry sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide as he looked around at… The living room at The Crow’s Nest.

Exactly the way it had been when Theo had last seen it, except with a bunch of snack foods covering the coffee table. The telly in the corner was on, somehow, and there were a bunch of VHS tapes sitting on top of the player.

Lethal Weapon, Die Hard, The Addams Family, Princess Bride…

“Theo, baby… What is this..?” He whispered, his voice breaking.

“I, ah… I wanted to surprise you. I figured out that the Room of Requirement could bypass that weird thing about the school that makes it not work with technology? Something about the magic in here is just… Exempt from it. So… The tv and tapes work.”

“Holy shit, love. You did this all for me?”

“Well, yeah! I-... I… Know that you haven’t been the biggest fan of all of my gifts.” Theo said softly, sitting down on the sofa next to him and grabbing his hands. “But you let me give them to you anyways, because you love me, and you know that me doing this is just a weird neurosis, and-”

“It’s important to you.” Harry added softly, squeezing his hands.

“It is. It’s really important to me. I know you probably think it’s kinda silly, but… Harry, I don’t know if you realize just how much you mean to me. Like… I know that I mean the world to you, and I know that you know I love you, but… Fuck.” He sighed, pulling one hand away and running it through his hair. “You… You’re my fucking everything, Harry. From the minute we met on the train in first year I… I knew that I was gonna be stuck to you for the rest of my life.”

“You just… You didn’t even question me. You didn’t try to force me to talk, you didn’t… You just accepted my presence, and you gave me sweets, without even knowing me yet. I know that was just you being kind, but that sort of unconditional kindness wasn’t… It wasn’t something I’m used to.”

Harry studied him worriedly, his eyes flickering across his boyfriend’s face as tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart clenched.

“Oh, oh… Baby… Shh, it’s okay…” He whispered, sitting up on his knees and pulling Theo into a tight hug. His hands came up to cling to Harry’s arm, kissing the scarred skin with a reverence that felt almost holy.

“I love you, Harry.” Theo whispered, burrowing his face into his boyfriend’s chest as tears began to spill down his cheeks. “I don’t think I’d know how to live without you if I ever lost you.”

“I don’t know how I’d live without you either, Theo. I love you, too. Every last bit of you. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

Harry smiled softly, gently tilting his head up and kissing the corners of his eyes before pressing their foreheads together, a soft hum escaping him.

“...I’ll stop with all the crazy gifts, I promise…”

“Thank you, love… Not that I don’t appreciate them, but… You’re more than enough for me, okay? You’ve always been more than enough.”

Theo sniffled, a small laugh escaping him as he kissed him.

“Merlin… How’d I get so lucky..?” He asked softly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and leaning back, adjusting their positions so that while he was leaning back against the arm of the sofa, Harry was sitting on his hips, their foreheads still pressed together as they kissed. “Fuckin… Absolute angel you are…”

“Oh please… ‘m not an angel…” Harry chuckled. “Killed too many people for that…”

“Still.” Theo hummed a bit, gently cupping his face in his hands. “...What I see is pretty angelic…”

His face burned bright red as he let out a small laugh, nuzzling his hands as he closed his eyes.

“Shut up… Wanna watch some movies..?”

“You get first pick.”

“Princess Bride?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry grinned, carefully climbing off of Theo’s lap and heading over to the tv, his hands finding the right buttons with a practiced, instinctual ease, and moments later, he had one of his favorite movies up. Once he pressed play, he hurried back over to his boyfriend and crawled up onto the sofa, settling between his legs and resting his head on Theo’s chest to listen to his heartbeat.

Once he was comfortable, his boyfriend pulled a blanket over them both, and began to gently run his hands through his hair.

This was… Definitely his favorite courting gift that he had gotten so far.

And as he laid there, resting peacefully against his lover’s chest while watching the beginning of Buttercup and Wesley’s love story, a sense of peace fell over him.

This, right here, was his own personal heaven.

He would give anything to be able to have this for the rest of his life.

—

Luna, Daphne and Hermione all slid up to him at breakfast that morning, the latter two looking at him with such wide grins on their faces that he was utterly convinced he was about to be questioned within an inch of his life.

And, he was completely correct.

“So… Room of Requirement?” Daphne crooned, leaning in closer. “Just you and Theo? All night?”

“What did you get up to?” Hermione asked, raising a brow. “Anything noteworthy? Interesting?”

He snorted a bit, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “We watched movies and ate snacks. We ended up passing out halfway through Lethal Weapon.”

“...Is that an innuendo or-?”

“Wh- oh, Jesus, no.” Harry laughed, shaking his head as a flush rose on his cheeks. “Not an innuendo. Oh my god.”

“I told you.” Luna smiled. “Pay up.”

Both girls groaned, reaching into their pockets and handing the other girl ten Sickles each, which she tucked into her own pocket with a laugh.

“Were you three betting on whether or not Theo and I would- Oh my god!?”

Hermione smiled at him sheepishly. “Sorry… Theo was just being so suspicious as he was getting everything set up yesterday… He kept muttering about how it all had to be perfect and that you were going to have the… Oh, what did he say?”

“Time of your life.” Daphne added. “So, we thought, you know…”

Harry’s face became an even darker shade of red, and he hid his embarrassed giggles in his robes.

“No, not at all… We literally just watched movies, and fell asleep. Oh, no, do you think that’s what he wanted us to do?”

“Nope.” Luna shook her head. “He wanted to sit and watch movies with you.”

“Thank god… You three just scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

“Sorry.” They all replied, with Daphne and Luna both sounding completely unrepentant, which made him erupt into giggles once again.

“I hate you so much.” He smiled a bit, shaking his head. “Truly, you’re the banes of my existence.”

Neville, who was carefully sitting down across from them, a large bottle labeled Mallowsweet, filled with a foggy, white liquid in his hand, and looked at the four of them in confusion.

“Why are we harassing Harry at… Seven-thirty in the morning?” He asked, setting the bottle on the table and starting to dish himself- and Daphne- up some pancakes. “Because I thought we pushed that back till noon today.”

“Daph and Hermione thought that Harry and Theo had sex in the Room of Requirement last night.” Luna smiled, causing the two boys to splutter. “They didn’t, and I’m now twenty Sickles richer.”

Neville sighed softly, looking at his pancakes sadly as he set down his fork.

“Harry, I love you to pieces, mate, but I think the mental image of that just killed my appetite.”

“Yeah, no, that’s… That’s fair. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. Not your fault at all.”

—

“You’re making it worse.” Severus snapped, his voice filled with venom as Volkov gently worked the paste into his branded skin. He wasn’t actually angry with the man, nor was he angry with Aurora, who was holding his other arm down to prevent him from swinging at the Transfiguration professor.

“I am not making it worse, Severus. You are in pain. Just give it a moment.” His gentle voice reached his ears before he blew on the still drying paste, a wave of soothing cold rushing up his arm and making the burning ache dissipate. Severus shivered, before he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“...Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies, my friend.”

Severus nodded a bit, rolling his sleeve down, and Aurora’s trembling arms wrapped around his uninjured one tightly, pressing a small, comforting kiss to his shoulder.

“You’re alright… It’s okay…” She whispered to him, obviously trying to soothe him. “It’s okay…”

He smiled, the slightest, most genuine smile he could muster in that moment, leaning over and gently pressing his nose to the top of her head as he closed his eyes.

Aurora was, besides Narcissa and Lucius, his only real friend. At least, she was his only real friend here at Hogwarts, and the fact that she stayed to comfort him as his scar burned the way it did made his chest ache the slightest bit.

Volkov wasn’t particularly a friend, not yet, but… He trusted the Russian man, and that was saying something.

“Thank you, Volkov.” He said quietly, nodding at the man who was limping to the other side of the room, carefully placing the jar of salve in his emergency potion’s cabinet.

“Of course, Severus. I am always happy to help.” He said, turning to look at the two of them with a smile. “Better?”

“Much. Whatever that salve of yours is, it’s… It’s a miracle worker.”

“It is an old recipe.” Volkov explained softly, making his way back over to them and sitting down, letting out a slow, shaky breath, his own body in some sort of visible pain. “One that my mother taught to me when I was young. The Dark Mark is… It is a burn. And that salve is for treating burns. I will write it out for you, if you would like.”

“Please.” Severus nodded.

Aurora sighed a bit, sitting up and pulling her legs up onto her chair, a frown on her face. It was obvious that she didn’t quite know what to say, or what to add to the conversation, so she quietly changed the subject.

“Have you seen what they’ve done to the Quidditch pitch?” She asked, turning to look at them. Both men turned to look at her with a frown.

“No? What happened to the pitch?”

“A fucking maze, is what happened. The third task is a goddamn hedge maze, and they’re bringing in all sorts of monsters and creatures for the kids to fight, and…” She groaned, rubbing her face. “I was watching them from my tower all last night. They have a sphynx, an acromantula, and a bunch of other shit.”

Volkov sucked in a sharp breath, and Severus could see his hand clench around his cane- the very same hand that still had remnants of bruises on his knuckles, despite the obvious healing spells that had been done.

It was no surprise to him that the Transfiguration professor had been the one to beat the hell out of Ludo Bagman, and somehow get away with it, but the fact that the man had gotten away with it so easily did concern him.

It raised quite a lot of questions.

But, they were questions that could be asked at a later date.

“You’re completely sure?” Severus asked softly.

“A thousand percent, unfortunately. I’m going to go and tell Diggory later tonight, if you’ll go and tell Hartford?” Aurora said softly, biting her lip.

“Don’t worry. All four champions will know by tomorrow morning. They talk to each other, you know.”

“It is good that they do.” Volkov nodded a bit, bracing himself against his cane and rising to his feet. “Allies are good to have, especially with such a darkness on the horizon… I will take my leave, my friends. Good luck.”

“Bye, Ivan.” Aurora gave him a soft wave, while Severus simply nodded back. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, and a wave of understanding washed over them.

This final task would be when something bad happened.

But what, and to who, they had no idea.

He watched Volkov leave the room quietly, and waited until he could no longer hear the echoing thunk of his cane against the floor before he spoke again.