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Chapter Text

It’s a bit surreal to pursue your education as a world-famous 18-year-old war hero. Yet for the first time, Hogwarts was simply going to class.

No murderous Dark Lord lurking, no fighting, no scheming. For once, his biggest worry was everyone else’s: homework and NEWTs.

Harry wondered if it was like that for the rest of the students the entire time, going to class without the threat of something terrible happening, permanently at the back of his head. He still had to remind himself that he didn't need to focus on survival anymore, on what was quick and easy and effective, on what would keep him and his friends alive. He didn’t bother with seriously studying magic in a while after getting used to work on instinct and intention instead. Voldemort wouldn’t wait for him to remember the correct incantations or rune sequences after all, much less for his potions to reach the correct brewing time.

He didn’t have time to learn in school. Not until recently.

Potions had never been his favourite class to begin with. A year ago he would've scoffed at the idea of brewing hair-raising potion, yet here he was.

Harry considered standing up and leaving when Slughorn explained that would be their work for the day, but he didn’t want everyone's eyes on him. There was too much attention on him already, he would like to avoid any more, and so he stayed put, even if only to half-ass an attempt of a cosmetic brew. He and Hermione were brewing next to each other on different cauldrons, Slughorn considered seventh years shouldn't need to work in pairs. It was early afternoon and the sun filtered into the warm classroom, lighting up the vapors from their cauldrons swirling all around them. They worked silently, both wanting to get a decent work despite the task. Being the top potions students for half a year made them a bit competitive. They still had the Half Blood Prince books, but Snape hadn't bothered on perfecting a hair-raising potion, so Harry couldn't cheat to beat Hermione this time.

It was quiet. Not uncomfortable, but quiet. Their shared classes with Slytherin used to be the loudest ones, but everything had changed after the war. A big part of the student body had left or died, especially in Gryffindor and Slytherin, so the classroom looked empty even with the students from the year bellow.

The remaining students weren't keen on laughing around as much.

Slughorn watching him intently all the damn time didn't help either. He was hovering on his table again, as if waiting for him to say something. Was he doing something wrong?

Harry felt like the snake on the zoo, as he often did.

It was awkward. Harry fidgeted with his tormentil extract.

"So… what's the tormentil for, professor?" he asked just to say something.

"Glad you asked, my boy! It works as a dissolvent, so that it doesn't hold the hair too strongly."

“Isn’t that the point?”

Harry scratched the back of his head, hoping he didn’t come off as aggressive.

“Well, the point of this particular potion is to style the hair, not to petrify it!”

"Oh, right. And the yew wood?"

The man was quite pleased to answer his questions, at least satisfied enough to finally leave his table after a while. He turned to Hermione, who seemed to be worrying over the tormentil now.

It was an oily, bright yellow liquid. It looked disgusting and the smell could give him a headache.

"I'm not putting that in." He said. Hermione looked at him questioningly, already measuring the drops. "The tormentil, I mean. I'll need all the strength available for my hair at least. You would too, don't you think?"

He pulled at a loose curl from her hair jokingly and she pushed him with her hip. They shared the weight of untamable hair sticking everywhere, Hermione slapped at his hand smiling.

"I don't know Harry, the recipe says it's important, what if it makes you look like Draco on fifth year, if you make it too strong?"

He fake-shivered at the idea. That wasn’t a good look. If Draco, who was sitting not that far behind them, heard her comment he seemed to ignore it. Their relationship had been awkward since they came back for their last year, they'd only seen each other when Harry testified on his trial, and even then they hadn't talked to each other at all. Neither had wanted to exchange pleasantries. At least he wasn't bothering them anymore.

"I'll add half."

Hermione seemed to consider it but ultimately chose to follow the recipe. She couldn't help it, even when they had a revised Snape version for a brew she would rather question his changes than the source material, so Harry would beat her every time.

He absent-mindedly wondered how Snape had figured out so many tricks for this to begin with. Did he just do things his way and hope for the best? At least that sounds more fun than following a hair-raising potion recipe by the book.

Fuck it, worse scenario the cauldron blows up in his face. If Voldemort didn't kill him that wouldn’t wither. Harry decided to get a bit creative.

Half the tormentil, double the yew wood, he added some myrrh -which wasn't in the original recipe at all- because he had some laying around. Maybe that would help with the hardness issue, make it a bit more elastic or something. And some meadowsweet, why not? He hoped it wasn't poisonous but he wasn’t sure.

By the end of the class his potion was at least 5 shades darker than everyone else's, which were a light caramel color. His smelled a lot better though. Slughorn was staring at it concerningly, or maybe he was intrigued. Shouldn’t expect too much. They tried them on.

Honestly, he and Hermione were at a disadvantage. Everyone else had normal hair, or perfect hair if you were Greengrass and Nott. They didn't need the potion to begin.

However.

It wasn't perfect, he still looked a bit disheveled, but at least it looked intentional. That was a massive improvement for him. Also it smelled great. Slughorn asked Hermione to try Harry's, she wasn't very happy about it as hers hadn't worked, until it actually somehow worked on her.

She  put her academic competitiveness aside for a second.

"Harry, I'm going to need the recipe. Now."

He scrambled to write down what he remembered, hoping he hadn't forgotten any of the things he added basically at random. He wanted the recipe for himself too.

Slughorn congratulated him, Draco pretended to ignore him, and he had to stay back to answer all of Hermione's questions, who wasn't easily convinced with ‘it smelled nice’ as his method for ingredient selection. Parvati asked for some samples which he gave reluctantly, and some to Hermione as well, less reluctantly. He'd have to brew it again if he wanted any for himself.

He didn't care about his appearance as much, but he also hated having to cut his hair so often, it was a hassle.

"Professor, would you mind if I used the classroom? I want to make it again. Try."

"My, of course Harry!"

The classroom was pleasantly warm as everyone left.

Hermione left for the library; she was actually serious about her NEWTs. He should be too, if he wanted to have a chance at becoming an auror.

He didn't really have to get perfect NEWTs to be honest. The ministry had offered the entire DA to get a year in training instead of coming back to Hogwarts and taking NEWTs, which most agreed to, understandably, including Ron. But Harry… didn't felt prepared, maybe. Or maybe he didn't want to leave Hogwarts so soon, he didn't need to rush it. So he chose to come back with Hermione instead. But everything felt completely different.

Slughorn was surprised and incredibly glad to have him, insisting on watching him the entire time, asking questions and looking equally unsatisfied with his answers. There wasn't much science to it, he got lucky it worked instead of melting his hair off, but he didn't have anything else to do for the day apart from avoiding the underclassmen from the quidditch team who thought if they asked enough times, he'd accept to be team captain.

He did not want to lead anything at all, for the next 10 years of his life at least, thank you very much.

A couple of students lingered. Harry didn't socialize any more than he had in previous years, meaning nothing at all, except he was even more unfamiliar with the students from Ginny's year, who had also chosen to go to auror training (youngest with in a century!) so he focused on his cauldron and ignored them.

There was only one person he recognized, Nott, but only because they were in the same year. He also had a death eater for a father.

Harry pushed the thought back; he was trying not to think about the war all the damn time. He couldn't stop his brain from going into survival mode, so best he could do was avoid triggering it to begin with. Nott didn't even look like his father, a cruel looking old man with a permanent scowl, grey hair and dark eyes. Nott had grey eyes and dark hair, instead.

He was unnervingly quiet. Harry had never heard him speak before, that he could remember, Hermione said he was smart though and he certainly looked it. But quiet, really quiet.

Harry tried to sneak a look at him, only to find him already staring back. Fuck. Weird. Well, he was looking at his cauldron more like. Not like you need it, mate. Harry looked again and Nott was pretending to be focused on his work.

Not a death eater, just a student. Unfortunately his brain didn't seem to believe the difference, heartbeat picking up. Come on now. It's just a guy, in a classroom, it's fine!

He was tired of getting anxious at random times for no reason. It was stupid. He survived 7 years of the Dark Lord's harassment. He was not going to freeze up in the middle of a classroom, in front of other people, because a classmate happened to have an asshole for a father who was dead anyway! He didn't even know Nott!

He was not going to freeze up, even if he had to force himself not to.

He bottled his samples quickly and stood, catching Nott's eye once again as he did. Fuck it. He would not get a panic attack for some guy.

"Nott, right?"

He looked genuinely astounded at him addressing him. The bloke had one hell of a poker face, he'd never seen that expression on him before.

"Yes." he said simply, if not a bit awkward. "Potter?"

Well. They both knew he knew who he was. It was polite, though. Harry decided to stop hesitating before his breathing got erratic.

"Do you want a sample? I saw you looking, so you know."

Nott didn't answer. Was he being weird? Well, yeah, definitely. It's not like his potion was revolutionary or anything, but the girls had wanted some so… but he wasn't a girl, obviously. God, this is awkward. I am being weird. He dropped the sample on his table quickly and ran off. Why in Merlin's name had he done that? Jesus.

- - -

"Harry, come on, for old time's sake?"

Trust Hermione to try and convince him to study for potions in Myrtle's bathroom of all places for 'old time's sake'.

"It was a one-time thing! We don't even know if it really works, we may go bald any day now, and I've made enough to last us until winter anyway. So why?"

Hermione ignored his complaints, pushing him through the corridors towards the girl's lavatory. The school's halls were mostly empty, but the few people around did stare at them, especially the first years. Harry waved at them and Hermione pushed him harder.

"You obviously like brewing. Do not try to deny it! I've seen you in class and you don't even use Snape's book anymore. We're doing it for fun! We're allowed to do that, you know?"

He did not think brewing on a bathroom was fun, and he did not think they were allowed to either. He just, well, it was calming. Repetitive. It was more interesting when he disregarded instructions. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, it didn't mean anything either way. Yet clearly for Hermione it did.

They set up on the floor of the girls bathroom, Myrtle was nowhere to be found.

'Old time's sake' for sure, that was nostalgic. It was also the room he'd almost killed Draco in.

"Are we making Polyjuice potion too?"

Hermione smiled.

"If you want to." she shrugged, taking a whole mini-drawer unit with potion's ingredients out of her bag, a potions table set and a book for her to read. Apparently she wasn't joining him on his brewing.

"I don't think I like your style of potion-making, it stresses me out. I just like that you like it. You didn't really have a chance to with Snape."

True. He didn't know how he felt about Snape after everything that happened and he'd rather not think about it too much, but he sure made his time at potions a pain. He'd given up on them in first year.

It was still bright out and the October weather was nice, light filtering in the bright colors of the stained glass. The company too.

Might as well.

He started stewing lacewing flies, careful to set the water's temperature right. Disgusting. Then he checked Hermione's potion book, which wasn't annotated in Snape's cursive unfortunately, so he improvised.

Hermione was annotating her own book.

"What are you reading?"

"Advanced magic theory for arythmancy models" Harry scoffed and Hermione sniggered at that, smacking him on the leg from where she was sitting across him. "I actually like it, you know. Professor Vector recommended it to me, I've been thinking… I might want to be an unspeakable."

She looked at him across from her book, unsure.

"That's really cool, Hermione." he gave her a reassuring smile, she seemed relieved.

Now that was a profession that made sense for her.

Then him…

He added the knotgrass to occupy himself. The leeches were disgusting. He thought of not adding them at all, but he knew their blood was important for their transfigurating properties or something.

"Sanguis evocare" he cast quietly, draining the blood and directing it to the cauldron. He didn't think the slimy rest was necessary, he'd find out in a month's time anyway.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, immediately looking up.

"Don't know really. It drains your blood I guess, a death eater tried it on me once, figured it'd work on leeches."

Hermione stared at the drained leeches on the floor, concerned.

"You have to be careful with that, Harry."

She stopped reading her book. Had he changed her mind about his brewing already?

"Well, it's not riskier that experimenting with potions, probably."

That didn't seem to convince her, but he moved on anyway. He didn't want to take all of Hermione's ingredients, so he took half the boomslang skin only, picking at the scales one by one. He found adding only the magic parts made potions stronger, he was pretty certain the inner part of the skin wasn't needed anyway.

They lost track of time, forgetting to get lunch and left when it was too dark for Hermione to keep reading, setting the potion in stasis and disillusioning on a corner just in case. They'd gotten used of skipping lunch these days, not wanting to sit around in silence as the rest of the school stared at them or worse, asked them questions about the war. It killed their appetite. They carried around snacks instead on a silent agreement.

What they were not used to skipping, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry realized they had forgotten about the class around half an hour after the class was supposed to start, but chose not to comment on it. There was no way in hell that Hermione hadn't realized they were skipping DADA and she did seem anxious about it, but she tried very hard not to show it. Neither commented on it until they got to the dorm.

Another habit they got was to sleep on the same dorm. Ron, Dean and Seamus had all gone into auror training, and Hermione couldn't study with the combined noise of Ginny, Parvati and the other girls from the year bellow them on the girl's form. She also didn't want Harry to be alone all the time, so they figured out a way to force the dorm into allowing her, and she moved in.

They had a lot of space for themselves with 2 empty beds, they both liked staying up, they both had nightmares every night. It was alright.

"Harry, we skipped Defense." she said as soon as they closed their dorm's door.

Now they were talking about it, it looks.

"Oh… yeah, lost track of time I guess."

It was a lie, it was painfully obvious to both and clearly not an answer that satisfied her. But he'd rather avoid thinking of a more honest answer.

"Harry, you've always like Defense, and you want to be an auror…"

Damn Hermione for being so observant. He suddenly realized why she'd wanted him to go to Myrtle's bathroom to brew, she'd played him. They'd been having a hard time at Defense this year, everything felt more serious than it was, even theory classes. Practical classes were hell. Everyone noticed them being uncomfortable and distant, even if their new professor didn't comment on it.

He groaned and threw himself back on his bed, massaging his forehead. It never hurt anymore, he only did it out of habit.

"I know."

He felt Hermione sitting on the corner of his bed uncertainly.

"Do you really?"

He didn't dare look at her.

"You don't have to, Harry." she said softly, waiting for him to take it in. Did he not? It was the only thing he'd ever been remarkable at, surviving. He only knew how to be a savior, he'd be a good auror… maybe. He'd refused to cast an expelliarmus since last year, for whatever reason. He flinched at everything all the time. He…

He never felt safe, even though he knew he was. It just never feels like it anymore.

"What would I even do? It's not like I can make a career out of hair potion you know?" He said, half-jokingly. Hermione actually chuckled.

"Your grandfather literally did, Harry. Your vault is proof of that. Also, it's not like you have to make a career out of anything, you're very much rich."

Oh. He'd forgotten about his grandfather's potion, he remembered when he learned about Sleekeazy's hair potion and wanting to get some, but then Voldemort happened again and he'd forgotten about it. He'd basically been perfecting his one Sleekeazy's for the last month.

Maybe he could do something else. Not hair potion, probably, but… not being an auror either.

"I…" he faced finally faced Hermione. She looked tired and worried, a nervous look to her eyes that never went away after months of hunting Horcruxes. She smiled at him regardless. "I don't want to be an auror anymore."

It felt unreal to hear the words out of his mouth when he'd forbidden himself of even saying them on his head, yet they felt so true, so final.

He really didn't want to be an auror. Merlin. He couldn't believe the horror he felt at the thought, and the relief.

Hermione smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm glad you noticed."

She went back to her bed. They went back to their nightmares.

They made a habit of skipping Defense.

What was he going to do with his life now?

Chapter Text

"Why do you look better for a trial than you did for the Yule Ball?" Daphne looked at him, as inquisitive as ever, her heels clicking loudly on the Ministry's marble floors. She believed accompanying him to the Ministry might remind her father that yes, they were friends, no Theo isn't a death eater, yes she will be incredibly angry if he gets sent to Azkaban. He'd sworn he'd do everything in his power to help Theo. It was a lie. "Did you style your hair?"

Theo glared at her. He hadn't, Potter's potion somehow did that on its own. He might spend the rest of his life getting his soul vacuumed out of his bones by dementors, so he allowed himself some vanity and tried not to think to much of Harry Potter while being on trial for being a death eater.

Which he wasn't. Perhaps that'd been his mistake, not taking the mark, considering he was being judged as if he had anyway. It didn't seem to make a difference, he was guilty of the crime of having a bastard for a father. If he'd taken the mark, at least that would've given him some access to whatever magical knowledge the Dark Lord possessed. But he hadn't, for the simple reason that bowing down to his father's unstable, highly emotional, reptile-faced dormmate was pathetic.

Draco Malfoy took the mark. Draco Malfoy had an even bigger bastard for a father, they'd both thoroughly licked the Dark Lord's boots, yet he got to be at potions right now brewing boomslang antivenom, instead of taking the blunt of the Wizengamot's paranoiac delusions. But Theo didn't have a powerful family anymore, didn't have access to his vault as his father had so generously made sure of, and didn't have Harry The-Chosen-One Potter to vouch for him at his trial.

He had himself and his own machinations. He was not going to rot in Azkaban with no books and no wand.

"Mr. Nott, please take a seat."

Still not 'Heir' Nott. Great.

Theo bowed his head in acknowledgement and stayed standing. Chair Seraphina Bones didn't insist. His first three trials were overseen by the Council of Magical Law, and they'd heard no reason, every trial escalating further until matters reached the Wizengamot. Reason wouldn't help him anymore. The Chair stood and the rest of the Wizengamot followed.

"Theodore Aspen Nott, son of Apollonius Yngvar Nott and Medea Solfrid Nott, do you swear upon your magic to keep the contents of this trial private from the ears of all livings, magical and non magical, and answer purely and solely with the truth?"

"I do."

He didn't.

"Then let us begin." she took a seat once again. "You stand accused of participating as a death eater and helping Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, throughout the Second Wizarding War from 1996 onwards, and more recently aiding and hiding fellow death eater Apollonius Yngvar Nott. How do you plead for these crimes?"

Theo stood sternly with his hands on his back, posture straight and unmoving.

"Not guilty." He met their eyes and saw they had already decided he was guilty. "I have never taken a dark mark, I went into hiding on 1996 for my own safety, and my father died during the war."

A younger member of the Wizengamot stood. Theo recognized him, the irritating Weasley.

"Would you explain, then, how you are so sure of your father's death?"

"I attended the funeral." he deadpanned.

Daphne's' father looked unwell.

"The funeral in which, coincidentally, his body was burned into the sea?"

"As customary."

Weasley stared at him, taken aback.

"May the Gringotts representative proceed." commanded Chair Bones.

An older goblin went into the room, clearly in no mood to be there. Pierceclaw, his account manager, bowed at him lightly.

"Lord Nott, may your enemies find their sense."

"Mr. Pierceclaw, may your fortune remain protected."

The goblin summoned a small dark box, undecorated to everyone's eyes except Theo's, who could clearly see how heavily runed it was. Theo handed him his key from a pocket in his greyish robes, and Pierceclaw opened it for everyone to see. It was a thick silver ring, also apparently undecorated, with a black stone swirled in silver and ash. His father's lordring, matching the heiring he was currently wearing, thinner and lighter.

"Mr. Pierceclaw, would you explain the matter regarding the Nott lordship?"

The goblin faced the Wizengamot with nothing but disdain. It seemed reciprocal.

"For reasons unbeknownst to Gringotts, the Nott lordship is yet to pass down to Theodore Nott." Weasley stood, ready to go at it again, but Pierceclaw continued. "However, this heirship has been linked to Gringotts for less than a century and has never been passed down in this time. It is not originally a British heirship, and it would be foolish to except it to function as one."

Theo made sure not to let his gratitude for the goblin show on his face, who was clearly making up excuses for him, as there was no such thing as Norse traditions on lordships, but they could always count on the British Government's ignorance on other European cultures.

"Would this be indicative of Apollonius Nott being alive?"

"I cannot say that for sure."

"But it is a possibility." Weasley finally butted in.

"Not a likely one."

Weasley scoffed.

"This goblin is clearly allied with the Nott family, his testimony should not be trusted in trial!"

Theo thought briefly of the older Weasley, the one that held an important position as a curse breaker at Gringotts, and how embarrassing it must be to have such pitifully ignorant dunce for a brother. He rejoiced on being an only child for once.

Now it was time to make his bet.

"There is another possibility." Theo spoke steadily, without raising his voice, effectively silencing the soft chatter that started to emerge. He stared straight at Lord Greengrass' eyes, who looked back at him, clueless. "I inherited my heiring from my mother, as custom follows. It is possible that Apollonius Nott's ring would reject me if I wasn't of his blood."

The court stood frozen.

Theo didn't look away from Lord Greengrass, who was looking everywhere but at him.

Even Chair Bones forgot to school her face and couldn't be helped from glancing towards Lord Greengrass, understanding as well as everyone else what Theodore was implying.

Lord Greengrass went so pale he was almost green.

He'd feel worse for the man, but it'd been Daphne's idea. They were known to be close even before starting at Hogwarts, they were always expected to be courting or even betrothed at some point, yet they never had. And while the real reason was that they were simply not interested in the arrangement, it could be made to look like there was another motive, such as them being half-siblings. Lord Alberth Greengrass wasn't known for being precisely faithful to his Lady wife, so the accusation would be nothing more than passingly embarrassing if it wasn't for the country's current political situation.

Any and all association to dark magic was being purged out of the region. Any witch or wizard who was previously known as dark or even grey turned around and made their best efforts on convincing the government that they'd been light wizards all along. Theo found that quite ignoble, and it was the exact reason Lord Greengrass was mortified of the accusation.

Theo was accused of being a dark wizard.

That one, he was positively guilty of.

Lord Greengrass was well aware, as his very own daughter could be easily accused and charged for the same.

He gave Pierceclaw the briefest look, and the goblin intervened.

"Surely, if Heir Nott was suspected of being the son of a different wizard, a blood test would be in place and the matter could be easily resolved."

Theo went right back to staring at Lord Greengrass, who had half a moment to feel relief. Theodore was, obviously, no one's son but Apollonius'. A blood test should clear his name of any association to the dark Nott family. Yet Theo held his glace firmly, severe as steel.

Lord Greengrass understood then.

Theo and Daphne had disappeared under his care for the last few days, a fact he'd kept hidden from the ministry, too preoccupied with the consequences for his seat on the Wizengamot, which was already at risk as he'd previously been a well-known grey wizard. They'd only appeared the morning of his trial.

What could they possibly be doing, if not blood magic?

After all, Daphne was one heiress to be feared, far surpassing her father. He'd lost all control over her years ago, let alone respect. Lord Greengrass understood that regardless of Theodore being a full-blooded Nott, if they took a blood test then and there, he would be found to be as much of a Greengrass as his own daughter.

He'd loose his seat immediately. He could even face trial himself, become the new suspect of hiding one of the Dark Lord's oldest followers. The man was as enraged as he was nerve-wracked, on the verge of a panic.

If I go down, you go down with me Lord Greengrass, so you better help me.

"Seraphina, I would like to discuss on private."

The Chair agreed, still recovering from her shock, postponing the end of the trial for the next day.

- - -

Lord Alberth didn't go back to Greengrass manor that afternoon. Daphne and him waited for him way past midnight, expecting the man to negotiate with them.

The trial could go two ways. Either Lord Greengrass stuck his neck out to help Theodore and they would retract their accusations of Theo being his bastard, or they would have him framed for hiding Theo's very dead apparently not-father and have him sent to Azkaban. There was no telling what would happen to Theo then, but at least Daphne would inherit Greengrass Ladyship before her father further desecrated their house to play pretend as a light wizard. Their house's magic had been provoked for long enough, Daphne would fix it before consequences were permanent.

When Lord Alberth got back he looked a proper mess. Disheveled and carrying a sick, nervous glint on his eyes. Daphne wondered what he'd been taking to be in such a state, he didn't seem to plan on walking further than the great hall so they joined him wearily.

Daphne faced him with frozen indifference.

"Father, we must reach an agreement that-"

Theo pulled her back, getting her out of her father's way, who'd taken his wand out and was now stumbling into them. He grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and spun behind him, shoving his wand on the man's nape, Daphne holding hers to her father's face.

"What is wrong with you now?" she glowered at her him.

He didn't seem to be listening, falling onto his knees, holding his head.

"Stop! I can not- I'm, I'm a light wizard, I'm… I'm not, I'M NOT! THERE'S NOTHING THERE'S NONE! I'M A LIGHT WIZARD!"

They glanced at each other. He wasn't talking to them.

Alberth rolled to his side, crawling and looking around the wide hall crazily, focusing on random spots of the the high ceiling, past them, far away from them. He was getting worse.

"Daphne-"

"What in Salazar's name!" Daphne was trying to grab him, or grab his wand while Theo struggled to hold him in place. The man had somehow gained strength he didn't posses before, and was trashing around, sending magic all around them, setting furniture on fire, blasting it, vanishing it and hitting them. It was a good thing they ordered Astoria to stay at Hogwarts.

Theo locked the man's arm using all of his body's strength, enough to force his wand off him and snap it in half. He had half a mind to feel the burn on his hand from the wand's core snapping before preoccupying himself with the problem at hand.

Lord Greengrass was still pushing and tossing magic everywhere. Wandless.

His blue eyes were turning lighter and lighter, casting a sickly glow that made it clear he could no longer see anything. Daphne tried to spell a cage of magic to seize him, but he seemed to absorb it through his skin. Theo could no longer hold him, the man's magic prickling at him. The glow covered him completely.

They stood back and the man fell to the floor, rolling from it, as if his the hall's marble tile was burning him, but he didn't have the control to stand.

Neither knew what to do. They'd never been in a situation none had a solution for, a plan, anything, they could only stand back, wands raised.

Theo felt a pressure from his ring.

"Daphne, don't shoot him any magic, wait."

She nodded, still pointing her wand just in case. Theo approached him, the man was shaking on the floor which started to crack. Bits of splintered magic fell on him as he got closer, burning.

He put his wand aside and started drawing runes on the floor around the man with his middle finger, the one with his ring on. The marble floors turned black at his touch, engraving the runes into them, sucking the magic desperately. Stay in stay in stay in stay stay in in STAY IN. Theo closed the circle around him in and the black runes glowed silver, flickering the same sickly light blue as the man's eyes. Alberth stopped shaking as much, momentarily gaining some sense to look at his daugther.

But he wasn't looking. He was blind, looking past her. He was following her voice who was cursing all Gods above.

"I'm… I'm not… we're not…"

"We're not what?!"

"Dark-"

A void opened up on his chest, sucking him in. Draining him. All of the runes lit up.

They were going to break.

"STAND BACK, DAPHNE!"

There was nothing to cover themselves in, either vanished or destroyed, Theo jumped to his friend's side and apparated them to the stairs overlooking the hall.

The rune circle did in fact break, collapsing the floor onto itself. As did Lord Alberth, who imploded into a blinding light spark with a violent crack.

The world went silent as they panted on the stairs steps.

A thick jade ring inlaid on gold engravings summoned itself to Daphne's middle finger.

He was gone.

Chapter Text

"I'm not working with him Harry! I refuse!"

Myrtle scurried back to her cubicle as Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. He thought she would be the easy one to convince.

"I can get her in line Big Boss, I've got my methods." Peeves grinned madly rubbing his hands. Harry didn't want to find out what his methods were and he reckoned Myrtle didn't either, if her loud complaints were something to go by. He'd been surprisingly easy to convince to help, taking his bribe of unreleased Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products and explicit permission to use them on students and staff.

"No need Peeves, I'll manager."

"Show her savior!"

Harry ignored him, walking up to Myrtle's stall.

"Hey." Myrtle was pretending to sob, looking away from him. Harry tried to put his hand on her shoulder, forgetting for a second it'd go straight through. That got her attention at least. "Look, you don't have to work with him. He'll cover the hallway so no one comes in here and bothers you or me. All you have to do is scare people away if they get past Peeves."

She blinked at him with huge ghostly eyes.

"You don't want other students to bother us?"

Mint.

"Yes Myrtle, I don't want them to bother you or my brewing. You remember how hard it was to brew Polyjuice potion last time right?"

"I do." She strutted out of the stall, satisfied with herself.

She floated up to his set up. It had gotten a bit… bigger, since he'd first started brewing. He didn't want to monopolize over Hermione's stuff, so he went for a little shopping to the Room of Requirement as well as Dervish and Banges.

There was a proper brewing table now, even if it was a couple centuries old. He'd moved onto tree newly bought cauldrons of different thickness and got his own ingredients drawer, a tall piece of dark wooden furniture that fold onto itself until it was the size of a book, and a rack for mortars, rods, spoons, cups, knifes and things he hadn't figured out an use for yet. Hermione had left him to his own devices for half an hour, so he'd taken the chance to put a large order for The Apothecary without her judgement.

Myrtle was floating around the cauldron fumes, watching them with narrowed eyes. At least she was being careful of not touching anything. Not like she could, but he appreciated the gesture.

"But this… oh Harry this isn't polyjuice, that's for sure. I remember brewing it in class because Hardeen Hoppelgruff knocked hognose skin into my cauldron on purpose and RUINED IT. Your gruffy friend got it right the first time, it smelled very different from this." she signaled at his cauldrons.

Well. Maybe he'd gotten too creative. That's why he had to get tree different cauldrons, he had no clue what Snape's method for figuring things out was, so he would just try everything and see what worked. His current work may have diverged from the original recipe. A bit.

"You used to brew polyjuice potion in class?"

"You didn't?"

"No, that's why we had to do it here, in secret."

Myrtle was hurt that was the reason they came to 'bum around' in second year so she left him alone, angrily mumbling about dumb students and Dumbledore's reforms.

He'd have to try and convince her again tomorrow.

The idea of other students or staff getting into his lab and finding all his stuff stressed him out, but he couldn't keep watching the bathroom on the Marauder's Map 24/7, so employing the ghosts was his best temporary solution. No one used the lavatory anyway and he could banish the set up at certain stages of the potion, but it gave him peace of mind.

Harry went to grab some ingredients from the drawer before locking the bathroom with his wand and heading to the potion's classroom, Peeves winking at him on the way out, holding one of George's latest inventions, Fireproof Firewhisky Frizzles.

He fumbled with the hognose skin in his pocket, absent mindedly separating the individual scales. They probably wouldn't use any ingredients today anyway. For whatever reason, Slughorn decided to take a full turn on his course plans and teach a bunch of theory. Not even particularly useful theory, it was driving him insane.

It was the main reason he'd gotten so dedicated to his own independent brewing, what was it with Hogwarts teachers and forcing them to learn by themselves due to their own incompetency? Slughorn didn't even seem happy about it himself. He could see it in the man's eyes with the way he'd zone out while staring at a particularly interesting ingredient sitting on the shelve, unused. Harry started to look at them the same way.

It was like sixth year all over again. The man was so nervous around Harry, like he had to use all his self control to stop himself from chatting with him. He'd even started paying more attention to Draco than him! He knew it was petty and that he should be thankful the man was finally off his back, but he couldn't accept Draco being treated as a potions genius out of nowhere, he was dedicated at most but had no real interest in the class, it was ridiculous and it made no sense. How did he even manage to offend the man now? Did he disapprove of his unorthodox method of potion-making? He seemed perfectly delighted at first.

"What's that on your hands?" Hermione stared at his golden flaked fingers from the hognose skin he'd been playing with. He gave her his best 'pay no mind' grin as she eyed him suspiciously, taking a piece of parchment out and the new quill they got on their Hogsmeade visit. She amassed quite an income from tutoring fifth years, something she'd always wanted to do if she ever had the time to. Desperate OWL students payed well for her to do the thing she did best: boss around academically challenged boys.

She spent it all on stationary and books.

Slughorn started his lesson on his good friend Hector Dagworth-Granger, head of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, and their contributions to potioneering. Dumb name if you asked him. Still, a potioneer club didn't sound so bad, someone had to write the books they followed.

Harry listened attentively while Hermione wrote every word down. She wasn't joining him on his brewing anymore. After weeks of awkwardly attempting to ignore her he mustered up the courage to ask her to leave him on his own.

He worked better when no one was watching him.

In the classroom or in the bathroom with Hermione he felt like Harry, the boy-whose-guts-Snape-hated, and that kid was a mess at potions. When he was alone he was just… him, and his mess was innovation.

He could allow himself to have more fun.

Hermione didn't like the idea, but he really couldn't have her hovering around his stuff, so she let got. She was still mad, though.

"So, without further ado, please welcome my very dear friend Hector Dagworth-Granger, founder of The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers!" Professor Slughorn signaled with enthusiasm to the back of the classroom, where a tall black man stood smiling affably. Where did he even come from? Most students didn't have time to react, staring at him, so the man walked up to the front of the classroom. He was dressed in rich dark blue and auburn robes, hair braided neatly out of his face, partially covered by golden glasses that seemed to reflect a different colour every time he moved. Harry recognized the shimmer of charmed glasses, like Dumbledore's.

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you all, young aspiring potioneers. Horace has been going on and on about his very talented class, so I've been waiting to finally see for myself." he smiled kindly.

Harry's first thought was that the man looked rich. Was potioneering a very profitable profession? He didn't need an income of course, but it'd be cool if his chosen career was self-financing at least.

Hector looked at each of them carefully. He locked eyes with Harry, just as he did with all the students before moving on. The one time he would've liked another wizard to recognize him and he didn't seem to care at all.

"Well, I've got to see if this class is truly everything Horace has been selling me right? Or perhaps it's his usual tendency for, ah, exaggeration." He winked at them teasingly.

Harry's thoughts ran back to everything professor Slughorn had been talking about before Mr. Dagworth-Granger arrived. He'd founded the society, was a potions master himself, invented the nerve-calming draught, the bravery-brew and the stillness serum. He came up with those on his own.

Harry definitely wanted the man to notice him

"Should we do some brewing?"

Slughorn tensed at that.

"Well, Hector, I wouldn't want to take any more time from you, that'd be incredibly ill-mannered of me wouldn't it right?-"

"No, no, Horace, come on, I've been dying to see this for myself so I insist. Especially you know of course, with the trials coming so soon…" he whispered, though not very subtly. Trials? "You never know! It's always best to support the new talents since they're still so young, I'm sure you of all people agree with that. So! I'm sure you've got all the necessary ingredients for a quick bravery-brew, very useful for those of you who're into quidditch. I'd love to see who can brew an adequate one!"

Hector stood confidently, challenging them and encouraging them, while Slughorn seemed to be stumbling upon his words, struggling to find a way out of this.

Harry shared half a look with Hermione before jumping straight to work.

That was his perfect chance to gain Hector's attention, maybe someone who could actually teach him. He was not going to mess this up.

As he scurried around the classroom to get bullhorn powder and fireworm guts he noticed neither Nott nor Greengrass had come to class that day, bad luck for them, but it meant less competition so he celebrated it. Ginny was a disaster with potions so he made a note to sit as far away from her as possible. Draco and Hermione were his only problem.

He couldn't just follow the recipe if he wanted to beat them. He had to impress.

Harry strode back to his table confidently, he was making a bravery brew after all so he couldn't be cowardly about it for sure. He tried to push his own courage into every step, perhaps using more strength that he usually did.

Hector seemed to approve of it, eyeing him eagerly. Harry did his best to ignore him and concentrate.

The bravery brew wasn't hard at all. They did some last year, before his school year was interrupted, and he could remember the ingredients were quite simple and the process wasn't complicated. The lack of time was the only challenging part.

Where does the confidence come from? Fireworm guts made sense. Magic could be literal like that, so that was probably it. Harry used his leech technique, one quick quiet 'sanguis evocare' that definitely earned him the potions master attention. Hector was now fully watching him.

He doubled the amount of guts and made sure to leave the rest of the fireworm out of his potion as he wasn't sure it contributed to it at all. Then he had to wait. What else could he do? There wasn't anything he could add that came to mind, nothing relevant. He wouldn't risk making it smell good like he usually did to impress Slughorn, bravery usually smelled like sweat anyway. His most courageous moments were always sweaty and covered in dirt. Maybe when he drank felix felicis was the last time he felt brave and didn't end up face first in the mud.

Felix felicis was, in concept, similar to a bravery brew. Perhaps… Harry reached for his bag, deliberating on whether adding ashwinder could help. It was important for felix felicis, it was what gave it its colour so it must be. So maybe…

It was a bravery brew. He couldn't doubt while making it.

Harry grabbed the ashwinder and crushed it quickly before Slughorn noticed it, then picked up some of the powdered residue and added it to his cauldron. Just a bit.

His cauldron lit up like molten lava for a second, before beginning to settle into a beautiful deep red, sparkling with gold flakes. Might as well have bottled the Gryffindor common room.

Hector nodded approvingly. Harry was quite satisfied.

Slughorn, on the other hand, seemed to be playing against him. Hermione was eyeing him with both confusion and a clenched jaw. Slughorn was all over her table, not-so-furtively adding things into her cauldron, before moving on to Draco's, who was more thankful than Hermione for the help but not less uncomfortable. Why did he want to help them so bad?

"You are Harry Potter, correct?"

Hector was now standing by his table, studying his cauldron carefully.

"That would be me, yes. I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Dagworth-Granger, I like potions."

"Hm, and you seem to understand them quite well, at least the importance of intention. And of course, the value of ah, quality ingredients."

Harry was thankful the man didn't bother to thank him for saving the world. It was a conversation he never enjoyed, but the potions master seemed to care only about that, potions.

Hector winked at him, glasses shimmering, before Slughorn placed a hand on his shoulder and dragged him away. Again, not very subtle.

Hermione was glaring at her cauldron. She clearly didn't enjoy professor Slughorn discarding her closely-followed recipe, yet the result looked promising, same as Draco's.

Neither looked like Godric Gryffindor's blood itself though.

Godric's Blood. Catchy.

"Won't you look at that Horace, I'd say your assessment of this class was quite truthful. There is some interesting talent here, you've taught them well."

Professor Slughorn thanked him bashfully. He seemed to be battling between the satisfaction of the praise and embarrassment, of what he didn't know.

"I'd love to welcome your best students under my mastery to assist me for a week, on the you-know-what that's starting you-know-when. It'd be a great learning opportunity don't you think?" Hector elbowed professor Slughorn playfully and didn't wait for an answer, grabbing a couple samples from their tables, stopping to give a knowing look to Harry. "Send me your best, Horace. It was a pleasure to meet you all, young witches and wizards."

Harry remembered the wonder for magic he felt back in first year before the threat of Voldemort had moved it back to second plane, forever forgotten and replaced by the need of survival.

Hermione elbowed him.

"Show off."

He chuckled.

...

"I have decided to accept your offer." Myrtle declared, sitting cross legged on air. Before Harry could sigh with relief, she continued. "On one condition."

"There's always a condition." His shoulders dropped, but he was careful not to move around when stirring Cauldron Number 2. He fixed his posture.

"I want the thing gone." Myrtle looked away from the lavatory in disgust.

"The…?" Ah. The basilisk. Right.

He forgot it was even there. Had no one ever come to get that cleaned? A whole, huge, dead basilisk under the school.

"Right. How do you want me to take it out? It's huge, where would I even put it?"

"It's my condition. Or I'll tell on you!"

She wouldn't, he knew that, but he didn't want her against him either. He just really didn't want to go back down there. He'd thought about the Chamber, about the basilisk, but never about going back there.

Something about the snakes and the parseltongue and the giant basilisk. It felt terribly Slytherin and unwelcoming. Yet it opened up to him, that was something not to think about.

He set Cauldron Number 2 and 3 in stasis and looked at his setup. He'd built his potion's lab on top of the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets, as if burying it underneath.

Well it's not like he did that on purpose. Harry started setting his things away, off the lavatory, lining them against the walls carefully, when he was done it had gotten dark. He sent a quick Patronus to Hermione telling her he'd be back late and whispered 'open' in parseltongue. The sink obeyed.

Myrtle decided to leave him some privacy as he stared at the entrance. What was he even waiting for? Jesus.

Harry jumped in and dusted off as he reached the ground. Even so far away from the chamber itself the smell was not great, he covered his nose with his robe as he walked through low corridors. He hadn't noticed last time, but the closet he got to the chamber the more it looked like a part of Hogwarts and less like a cave. The floors were engraved with runes and snakes, and runes made of snakes, and the walls were lined with torches that glowed green when he set them on. Very Slytherin indeed.

He couldn't shake the unease off. He felt like he was being watched until he realized he was hearing something, seeing the movement of shadows on the corners of his eyes.

Snakes. Black, grey and silvery snakes all around him. At least they didn't seem to mind him.

"Um. Hello."

Only a couple snakes stopped to look at him.

"Hello, speaker. It's been a while."

"Where have you been, this whole time?"

"You never came back. You just left."

They sounded offended. Was he supposed to come back? For what? He mumbled an awkward apology and moved on, not looking forward at getting nagged at by some reptiles he didn't even know.

When he got to the door to the chamber, the floor in front of it was completely covered by snakes. He didn't want to engage them but he didn't want to risk stepping on them.

"Do you mind?"

"Not there. You can go there later."

He looked to his side, where the snaked that answered him stood, she was a deep silvery color, like the Slytherin emblem. They made a road for him to follow, completely covering everywhere else. The snake that spoke to him was the only one standing on it. She was longer, older. She didn't wait for an answer and lead the way. Should he trust a nest of snakes not to take him to his own death?

If Nagini hadn't killed him, surely this smaller, more polite snakes wouldn't either. He followed the snake.

"Where are we going?"

"Last time, we thought we'd have time to show you, but you never came back, so we will just take you."

Harry noted how that didn't answer his question at all, but kept following her. He'd met many snakes in his time, so he'd learned to tell apart the normal ones from the magic ones and these ones were definitely of the second kind. The one that was leading him was definitely the most magical of the lot, her scales shimmering with the same glow of the green torches, silvery and green.

He hall got taller, darker and older. I looked exactly like a Hogwarts hall, except the colors had been inverted.

"What's your name?"

The snake ignored him until she reached a door. I looked a classroom's door, but bigger. Like the library's door. Harry stared at it and then at the snaked, raising his brow.

"So?"

"Vasileia."

"Pretty name."

The snake, Vasileia, looked pleased. She signaled to the door.

Alright. Time to get this over with. Harry put his hand to the cold stone of the door, noticing how it was engraved with snakes covered in runes. It didn't bulge. He turned to Vasileia.

"How do I get this to open?"

As soon as he said it the door swung open on its own.

It was a lot bigger than a classroom, maybe the size of the Room of Requirement. As he took a step in, the ceiling lit up. There was a giant library to his right, tall, slender bookshelves that reached the ceiling, filled with books of all sizes, along with the mountains of books scattered on the floor. To his left was what seemed to be a potions lab, completely burned down. Broken down tables, torn tapestries, ash and burn marks everywhere.

Someone threw a fit in here.

Harry approached the middle of the room, dominated by a long table surrounded by more charred chairs, all except for one. He reached to touch it, all tall green velvet and deep dark wood, it didn't even have a speck of dust on it, giving him the terrible impression that someone had just been there. He'd taken notice of the floo fireplace on a corner of the room, apparently unused but how could he be sure?

On top of the table rested stacks and stacks of old parchment. Whoever had used this room seemed to have taken the longtable for a desk, with ink and quills everywhere, and notes and notes. The handwriting wasn't the best, cursive and a bit messy, yet he managed to read it perfectly. There were notes on spells and potions, particularly on the creation of them, theories and experiments to make new magic and potions, how to select and gather ingredients when you were getting them from either dead or alive sources and the appropriate spells for doing so, Exsolvo versus Extraho. That was something he didn't know that he would definitely be taking into account.

One stack in particular gained his attention, it was on the usage of blood for potions, and how they would connect to a wizard's or creature's own essence making it more willing to bend to their will. A lot of the studies seemed to relate to blood magic, ancient magic… dark magic.

He'd been so enraptured by his curiosity he'd only then realized he didn't just find the handwriting familiar. He knew it perfectly well.

Riddle.

Harry dropped the parchment he was holding right away, disgusted by his own interest on it. Whatever this was he… he wanted nothing to do with it.

"What is this? Why did you take me here?"

Harry looked around the place irritated but Vasileia was nowhere to be found. He felt tricked.

He storm out at once, not wanting to be tempted to read any of it. He looked at the piles of books he hadn't even touched, the stacks of parchment he hadn't checked and the charred potions lab at least five times bigger than his own. There were things in that place that he wanted to know, and he wanted so bad.

But he wouldn't… No, even now he would not associate himself with Voldemort. Not in any way.

He pointed his wand at the room. He knew what he had to do, even if he desperately didn't want to.

It wasn't his job do to what he wanted.

"Incendio." he murmured with his eyes closed, looking away from the room so that maybe he wouldn't have to face his regret until it was too late.

Yet the cold humid air of the room didn't flinch. He finally looked at his wand to see it wasn't answering him at all.

"This isn't any room. You must mean it."

It was Vasileia. He couldn't place where she was exactly but he knew, maybe she was in his head. He tried again.

"Incendio!"

"But you won't."

The spell failed once again, his wand only lamely lighting up before going numb.

Frustrated Harry stormed off, slamming the door on his way. It flinched with his magic.

He found Vasileia trailing him as he marched his way out of the chamber, not caring to go look for the basilisk's corpse. He tried to outpace her but she was able to keep up, silently slithering beside him until he'd had enough.

"What do you want?!" He turned to snap at her.

"Will you just leave again?"

"Sounds about right, yes. Now quit following me." Harry kept walking, avoiding her gaze.

"The knowledge of the Chamber must be protected, only the heir-"

"I am not his heir! I wasn't then and I'm not now. I killed him."

"He wasn't worthy." Harry stopped and stared at her. Whatever that meant? Vasileia continued before he could walk out on her. "He didn't understand magic because he didn't listen, he could've been great if only he'd listened. But he was too full of himself and now the magic's been abandoned once again. It is not the magic's fault."

This magic… Harry couldn't let himself near it. He didn't want to get lost in it, just as Riddle had. He knew they were different yet he had to stop himself, restrict himself. Harry knew this was one of the things he wasn't allowed to have.

"You've got the wrong wizard for that."

The snake didn't follow him this time.

...

Hermione nudged him on his side.

"What's got you so pissed off?"

"Nothing." he mumbled, dodging her next prod.

He was angry. He was angry about fucking up one of his batches of Polyjuice for stirring it too firmly, because he was angry at Myrtle for bitching to him about the Basilisk that he was now definitely not going to take care of, if that meant having to deal with snakes demanding he be the Heir of Slytherin and become a dark wizard.

He wasted his entire life in order to kill Voldemort, he earned his right to finally live free of him. How dare she demand anything of him.

The only good thing was that it was finally potions class. He was feeling once again hesitant of his newly discovered interest after seeing the potions lab down in the Chamber and also ruining an entire batch of Polyjuice, so he hadn't been brewing in the last couple days. He'd have to eventually, more now than ever considering Slughorn would be sending him under Dagworth-Granger's mastery and he wanted to show him some of his samples.

Professor Slughorn was fidgeting around the classroom in a way that reminded him of professor Quirrell. Harry was impatiently waiting for him to mention anything about the mastery, but he'd avoided it until the very end of class.

"Hector and I have analyzed all your samples from last class and decided two students should accompany him to meet the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, in order to assist him on the preparations of an important even he shall be working on this winter." Professor Slughorn was packing up his stuff as he finished the class. Harry didn't like it one bit, it was putting him on edge. "So please congratulate Mrs. Granger first everybody!"

A couple applause followed. Hermione smiled radiantly and fist bumped him under the table. Harry was glad Slughorn had picked her instead of-

"And Mr. Malfoy. See you all next week! And uh, have a good one." He left hurriedly as the whispers broke out.

No way in hell.

Harry didn't even care that everyone was staring at him. Of course they were, he was the obvious pick and everyone knew that. He couldn't- how could he? There was no way Draco's potion was better than his, absolutely no way. Sure he hadn't tried his own sample yet but he knew his potion was better. Better than Draco's and better than Hermione's. What was professor Slughorn playing? He held the sample on his pocked, the crimson liquid shining with a golden glow even then.

He stood abruptly and went to follow after him. He needed an explanation.

"Harry!" Hermione tried to stop him but he didn't listen.

He was- this was his way out! This was finally something we was interested in, not because he had to do it to survive or because it was expected of him. This is something he could do because he wanted to and maybe it could be his new life and Slughorn was going to take this opportunity away from him for- for what?! It opposed everything he knew about professor Slughorn and it simply made no sense.

"Professor!" Harry called after him as soon as he caught a glimpse of the man. He was shamelessly hurrying away and on top of that ignoring him.

Harry hastened his pace to catch him.

"Harry my boy I am very sorry but I have terribly urgent matters to attend to-" Slughorn yelled across the halls, still far from him.

Students were watching him chase Professor Slughorn through the castle, clearly entertained by the persecution.

"Do you now?!" he yelled back.

"Y-Yes I do my boy now if you'll- if you'll excuse me!"

Slughorn nothing but ran into his office, closing the door on his face. Harry went to knock on it but noticed the magic sparking out of his fist in angry green bursts and decided against it. He rested his fist slowly against it and the door yet it still shuddered.

"Professor, please, I don't understand. Why?"

For a while he got no answer.

"I am very sorry my boy, it's for the best." answered his voice softly, barely a whisper.

For the best? Whatever did that mean?

What did HE know about 'for the best'?

Another burst of magic left his fist straight through the door and Harry stormed away. He was furious. Why did everyone want to take decisions over his life for him, even now? What gave them the right? He'd already done his part. First it was Voldemort, or Dumbledore, or the entire magic society and now- why couldn't he simply do what he wanted for once? Why couldn't he have this?

He tried to avoid all people around the castle and their stares. He didn't want to go to the tower either, he couldn't speak to Hermione right now. Nothing she could say could possibly make him feel better right now.

He ended up on the second floor's girl lavatory.

"Are you finally going to take care of the-"

"Fuck off Myrtle." he said with so much venom for once she actually left him alone.

He went to reach for Cauldron Number 2 but decided against it, remembering the one he'd messed up already. He probably shouldn't brew like that. He wants to fight someone, but he probably shouldn't yell at Myrtle anymore as she'd already left him be.

He didn't want to snap at Hermione. It wasn't her fault, he just- he didn't want to see her right now.

Ron was away at the Ministry.

He banished away his potions set up and paced around the bathroom until he heard someone approaching and the sounds of Peeves disturbing them. He went to warn Myrtle before remembering he had told her to fuck off, so he checked the map quickly.

Draco fucking Malfoy. If he followed him just to rub it in his face he'd kill him, he actually would finish the job this time as there was no way he could deal with Malfoy right now.

Harry turned around to lean over the sink and the Chamber opened instantly, he stepped back as it did. He looked around and jumped in without a second thought.

He needed to get away.

"Close"

As the entrance to the Chamber closed he was left in the dark before the halls lit up with the familiar green glow.

He found Vasileia watching him in a corner, he couldn't explain how he knew it was her but it was clear to him. She watched him but thankfully didn't comment.

He checked the map to find Draco lurking the lavatory. So he had followed him.

He'd have to wait around here for him to leave then, might as well take care of the Basilisk problem. He walked into the Chamber after ordering it open and the stench hit him full-face. He probably should've expected it but he didn't exactly have time to grab any decent smelling potion, or any potion at that.

He reached for his pockets to check if he had any spare lavender, maybe frostvine or myrrh from the hair potion he'd been perfecting…

His fingers curled around the sample tube of his bravery brew. He didn't add anything to make it smell good, but he still snapped the lid open and smelled. It smelled like treacle tart and Gryffindor's common room. Familiar and inviting.

He downed it. It didn't taste like treacle but thankfully it didn't taste like his common room either. It tasted… like gold, spicy and warm.

It didn't stop the smell of decay but somehow he didn't mind it as much anymore. It felt somehow like felix felicis but not quite, he didn't feel giddy or happy at all, he was still mad. But he felt certain. Resolved. He felt it running through his veins.

He strode confidently towards the basilisk, it's silver scales shone brightly against the light that seemed to flicker with his own steps. He stared into its yellow eyes and decided in an instant he couldn't let them go to waste.

"Exsolvo." he muttered in parseltongue. "Reducio."

He shrank them to the size of marbles and pocketed them, then started methodically peeling the scales off the basilisk, shrinking them and pocketing them. Good thing he didn't care about the smell anymore. He had to figure out a way to extract the basilisk venom. He knew there were vials made for that but he hadn't bought any yet, he should order them from Dervish and Banges once he went back…

Or there was another place he could check. He finished pocketing the scales and walked out of the main chamber, headed for the Reading Room. Most of the lab seemed to be burned off but there were also cupboards and cabinets on the back, maybe some equipment survived what he could only assume to be Tom's temper tantrum.

When he walked into the room he didn't avoid the parchments or the books this time. They were just… parchments and books. And the magic on it was only magic. Even if it was dark magic, it didn't have to be used to hurt others. It was just magic. How he used it was only up to him. Likes the leeches spell.

He took his time. The cupboards were full of ingredients, some of them had gone bad or stale, but lots of them had survived so he could come back later for them. The cabinets held cauldrons, mortars, scales and all types of flasks and vials. There was one special vial he recognized, it was the same type Slughorn had used to extract the venom from Aragog. He took them to the longtable.

Checking the parchments once again he noticed they were mostly notes from books, Tom was incredibly disorganized but he definitely had some sort of system, writing references to the books he'd consulted on the side, with page number.

He ignored the parchments with dark spells and went directly to the potions ones. Tom had nothing on the properties of basilisk parts, apparently he didn't have the vision to use the giant snake he had stored on the room next door. As he skimmed through the notes Vasileia climbed into the the table. They locked eyes.

"Oh shut it."

She didn't answer him but he could tell she was laughing at him.

"Accio Strom's 'Sub-properties of Serpent Parts'." the book flew from a pile into his hand. He scanned it but it didn't even mention basilisks, Harry reckoned they weren't exactly common to come by, still he found the book quite interesting as the author mentioned meeting parseltongue speakers as his source for many of the uses of different serpent parts, explaining how the snakes themselves had given them the knowledge. Harry eyed Vasileia suspiciously. He doubted she'd want to help him anyway.

"Accio Aemmelianus' 'Blood and Intent on Potion-Making'"

Harry took a seat and scanned through a couple more books, saving a couple into his robe and the rest on a pile on the desk before leaving the Reading Room for the Main Chamber.

Distantly, he heard a thud further into the tunnel. Vasileia who was following beside him looked at him expectantly. Something that felt like treacle tart and his common room told him he shouldn't bother about it, so he shook his head to the snake and they continued into the Chamber.

Harry drained as much venom from the Basilisk as the vials permitted and stored it carefully. He wished he thought of bringing his storage down with him before jumping in, perhaps he could get additional, more portable storage, specially now that he acquired such amounts of possibly dangerous supplies. He'd have to look into them to make sure to store them properly, too.

"What will you do with the rest of the body?"

Vasileia had climbed her way into his shoulder, supervising his movements. She hadn't gone about and about the whole Heir thing so he allowed it. It was reassuring to not be completely alone, too. Even if he somehow knew he wasn't really alone anymore.

"Not sure yet. I'm thinking maybe store it somewhere else, I don't know if basilisk bones can be used for anything."

"They can… I could teach you, if you're willing to listen." she curled from his shoulder into his arm to look him in the eye, as Harry finished another vial of venom and exchanged in for a new one.

Listen. That's what she said Tom hadn't been capable of. Surely he could listen, he wasn't an egotistical maniac in love with the sound of his own voice.

He sighed in defeat. Snakes knew things, he wanted to know things.

"Alright. Teach me then."

"H-Harry? My boy?"

They both turn around to look at professor Slughorn, who seemed quite horrified at both the sight and the stench of the Chamber. Harry inserted his last vial calmly. As he straightened his back in front of the basilisk corpse, surrounded by bone and scales, Vasileia slithered though his body back onto the Chamber's stone floor.

"Professor, you do want to see me now?" Harry sealed the now-full vial and pocketed it. Slughorn stumbled into the Chamber without taking his eyes of Vasileia, who reciprocated his stare. "I hope you didn't bring Malfoy down here, he's rather faint of heart."

"No… No, of course not, Harry, of course not. He just- well- it's nothing, no matter. What- uhm, what are you doing here, Harry?"

"Myrtle didn't like the smell." he deadpanned.

"Myrtle? Ah yes! The… girl, yes."

He didn't seem convinced by his answer at all. Harry approached him, Vasileia flanking him. Harry noted how he was clenching his wand.

"What are you doing here professor? I thought you were done with me."

"I- it's not like that Harry, please, you know you're my best student by far, it's not like that at all."

Harry sat on a small statue near the door where professor Slughorn seemed to be petrified. He wouldn't get closer to him, he could almost smell the fear on the man and if he kept scaring him he might even attack him. He couldn't understand his fear, he couldn't feel fear at all.

"I don't understand professor." Harry looked him in the eye, trying to convey the betrayal he felt. "This is… I usually don't want things, but this is something I want. I like potions. It's- they're fun. It's magic I actually enjoy, it's something I'm good at. I don't understand it, I should be trash at it after all these years but for some reason I'm good, and I like it, it feels right. So why? What did I do wrong?"

Slughorn pondered it for a minute. He finally left his wand alone and stopped looking at him like he was Voldemort's second coming.

"Well, it does make sense my boy." Harry furrowed his brows, not really following. "Your mother, Harry. She was always amazing at my class, a natural, potions spoke to her. And your father of course, he could've been great had he wanted to, he had the genetics for it for sure."

He left out a quiet chuckle, suddenly lost in the memory, only to look back into Harry's eyes, Lily's eyes.

"I'm sorry about the mastery, Harry. When I saw the sudden interest you took in potions I couldn't help but be reminded of a… different student." Harry knew exactly who he was referring to. If I had a sickle for every time Slughorn had taken me for Voldemort reincarnate…"You must understand even now you have some similarities to him."

"I'm parseltongue. That's about it, professor. You know what he stood for and what I stand for. I'm tired of repeating this, I'm not him." Harry stood if only to make his point clearer. He needed Slughorn to see him, to truly see him for his actions and not for whatever it was everyone saw in him that made them believe he was the Heir of Slytherin. "I'm just Harry. I could go and become and auror because that's what everyone expects me to do but I- I don't want to, I really don't. It doesn't feel right, and this does. I know I could be something more than the boy-who-lived. I want to choose that professor, please let me choose it."

Slughorn hesitated, glancing between the basilisk and Vasileia, and his eyes. Even in Voldemort's lair and surrounded by serpents, it was just Harry.

"You're right my boy, you are." Slughorn gave him a tired, nervous smile. "I'm an old man who lets his past mistakes haunt him past reason, but I've never made a mistake by trusting you, I believe I won't make a mistake now either. You can accompany Mrs. Granger and Mr. Malfoy on the mastery."

Harry felt relief wash over him. He had his chance, he wouldn't become an auror.

"Thank you professor." he reciprocated the smile and clasped him in the arm, if only to distract him from the giant basilisk corpse to his back as he would not be giving him any samples from it.

"Just one more thing professor."

"Yes, Harry?"

He lead the way with professor Slughorn close behind him as Vasileia flanked him, hissing at him.

"Never come back into the Chamber of Secrets."