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Chapter Text

Arc I: Alliance

Chapter One: Opening a New Can of Worms

Harry Potter dutifully followed his relatives through the packed muggle mall. He had been forced to come along due to his aunt Petunia having a short flash of insight. She had insisted to her husband that leaving Harry alone in the house could lead to him destroying their prized possessions with his “freakishness”, or rather, his magical ability (they had not forgotten him blowing up his aunt or putting their “precious Dudders” inside that snake pen).

So, here he was, trailing the Dursley family, wearing Dudley’s hand-me-down clothes that were four sizes too big and threatening to fall off of him. The jeans and sneakers he was wearing had several holes and his glasses were cracked again (basically, he looked like he couldn’t afford anything in the mall, which explained why he was getting so many disgusted and odd looks from fellow shoppers).

Vernon Dursley, his oh-so-not-delightful uncle, was busy shooting dark glares at him whenever he happened to glance in his direction. Dudley, his oh-so-not-intelligent cousin, was still complaining about Harry accompanying them and that he was embarrassing and would ruin his “image” (Harry wasn’t sure how his presence would change the fact that Dudley was a chubby, arrogant idiot who didn’t know what a dictionary was but then, he wasn’t Dudley). Petunia, his oh-so-not-elegant aunt, seemed content to simply ignore his presence all together and prattled on about this wonderful dress she had seen on TV that would make her look even skinnier than she already was.

A sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings and he looked up at Vernon, who was scowling down at him. “Go away. We leave at six o’clock. Be at the food court by then or we leave without you.” With that said, Vernon left with Petunia and Dudley following after (Dudley had the wonderful thought to stick his tongue out at him – as if he wanted to stay with the family). Before he could figure out a place to sit and wait (and were there any maps around? He did need to find the food court after all – and hope the Dursley’s didn’t leave him here accidentally-on-purpose again), he was interrupted from his inner musings.

“Potter?” A smooth, calm voice questioned from behind him. Harry turned around and simply stared.

The owner of the voice was a teenaged boy (his own age, he knew) with dark skin, short, spiky black hair and cobalt blue eyes. He was wearing dark washed jeans and a button up blue shirt along with running shoes. He also wore a thin leather bracelet on his right wrist and an intricate silver ring on his left index finger. There was a small, black backpack slung over one shoulder. This was Blaise Zabini, a to-be-fifth-year-student such as himself, but part of the Slytherin House (of which hated muggleborns and muggle lovers – which begged the question of why he was here, in a muggle mall, wearing muggle clothing).

“Zabini?” Harry blurted, staring in bewilderment at the other boy.

“Hullo Potter. What are you up to?” He gave Harry an analyzing stare. “Clothes shopping, I’d hope.”

Harry felt his face burn. Of course it had to be a Slytherin that would see him dressed like a homeless person. “What are you doing here, Zabini? You do realize this is a muggle area, don’t you?” he asked, snidely.

Zabini raised an elegant eyebrow, looking amused (and did he have to look so cool? Many of the muggle girls were eyeing him up like he was candy). “I am aware of that, Potter. As you can see, I am dressed for the occasion.” He added a wink as he talked, sending a group of girls nearby into a fit of giggles. “You, however, are entirely degrading your high status with your current state of dress.”

“Really? Then do tell me how I can degrade my ‘high status’ any lower than what’s been written in the papers?” Harry snapped, feeling all the pent up rage from the end of fourth year and the beginning of summer threatening to overrun him.

The Slytherin remained silent, simply staring at him with a bemused look on his face. Harry shifted awkwardly, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “What?” he finally blurted, attempting to glare at the other boy through his cracked glasses.

“You presumed that I was referring to your status as the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’,” Zabini stated rhetorically. “When I was actually speaking of your status as the Potter heir.”

“The ‘Potter heir’?” Harry repeated in bewilderment. Though he supposed it made sense, since he was the last living Potter.

“Yes,” Zabini said slowly. “As you are the only remaining Potter, it is your duty to uphold the honour of your family heritage. That includes dressing well and not making yourself into a laughing stock in the papers.”

“Yeah well…” Harry fumbled, uncertain as to what to say. But then, when was the last time he had received a lecture from a wizard, let alone a Slytherin, about his attire?

“No one has told you this?” Zabini asked, sounding incredulous and that (annoying) eyebrow rose again.

“People keep secrets from me in order to protect me,” Harry stated weakly. He had been arguing with himself since the beginning of summer about this very topic. He was only in his third week of being trapped in the Dursley household, wherein the family wasn’t hesitant to display their hatred and disgust of him. He was not allowed to receive the Daily Prophet, so he had no idea what was happening after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and his only contact with friends were through letters with Ron and Hermione but they wouldn’t tell him anything about what was going on because “Dumbledore said it was too dangerous”. The only thing that he had gotten out of the letters, aside from their social lives, were that Remus and Sirius couldn’t write to him because Remus was a werewolf and Sirius was a convict (and Dumbledore didn’t want anymore “bad press” to befall Harry, should the letters be found – they all seemed to forget that Remus and Sirius are Marauders – even Sirius and Remus, though Harry had no way to point that out, since he had no contact with them).

“What could they possibly be protecting you from by not telling you about your family and the expectations you are to uphold?” Zabini still sounded skeptical, but Harry noticed a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Well…” Harry started but then stopped. What would withholding information about his family do to protect him? Unless his family was secretly evil or hated the wizarding world or something, then he could see everyone not telling him about his parents (though he’d still be rightly pissed). Would it be so wrong to know more about his parents, stuff that the entire wizarding world didn’t already know? That his dad was James Potter, a pureblood in Gryffindor whom was a Chaser on the quidditch team, and was also a prankster and an animagus (though few people knew that) and a bit of a prat (and don’t forget that Harry looks almost exactly like him). Or that his mom was Lily Evans, a redheaded muggleborn witch with green eyes (so like his own), was book smart and who hated his father for several years before something changed her mind.

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Harry demanded instead, determined not to have another inner rant (especially in a muggle mall – he had a tendency to accidentally release his magic – and blow things up – when mad).

“Why not?” Zabini countered. “I’m only asking questions that you should know the answers to.”

Harry fell silent, feeling embarrassed, frustrated and angry all at once. He was getting tired of people expecting things from him, and of hiding things from him. Zabini sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“All right, come along then,” Zabini said, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him through the crowd. Harry sputtered and tried to pull away.

“What are you doing, Zabini? Let me go!” Harry growled out.

“I’m helping you,” Zabini insisted, guiding Harry into what looked like a clothing store. There was only one other person in there; a young woman dressed in black slacks, a powder blue dress shirt and high heels. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled into a neat, high ponytail and her blue eyes were regarding the items in front of her carefully. She was organizing a stack of clothes and Harry noticed a tag pinned to her shirt that read ‘Amy’.

Amy looked up when they entered and smiled. “Welcome, can I help you with anything?”

Before Harry had a chance to speak, Zabini took over. “He needs an entire outfit, as you can see. Probably an entire wardrobe.”

Amy nodded, sizing Harry up and wandering closer. “Right, I’d say slim fit jeans and a button-up would do wonderfully. What do you think?” She asked, looking at Zabini, whom nodded.

“I am right here you know.” Harry informed them, frowning. Amy smiled at him sympathetically.

“We know, sweetie. Don’t worry, we’ll have you looking dashing in a few minutes.” She said. With that, she headed over to the racks and began grabbing several articles of clothing. Zabini chuckled from his position next to Harry.

Amy handed the stack to Harry and ushered him towards the change rooms. “Go and change now, I need to know if I got the sizes right.”

Harry shook his head and sighed when he was in one of the stalls. “How did I get into this?” He wondered. How often was one dragged by a Slytherin into a clothing store?

He had to admit, the clothing really looked good on him. Harry walked out of the stall and Amy grinned handing him a belt and a pair of sneakers. Zabini smirked at him and nodded approvingly.

“Much better,” the Slytherin said.

As Harry spent the next while being bombarded with clothing and accessories, he realized that Zabini really knew a lot about fashion (which clearly included current muggle trends). Harry was certain that if Zabini had gone to a muggle school, he would have been one of the most popular, well dressed boys in school (not unlike his current popularity at Hogwarts – even Hermione and Ginny thought he was cute, for a Slytherin.)

It was coming to five o’clock by the time they finished. Zabini paid for the clothing (with a credit card – he was certain that he had done an incredible impression of a gasping fish, judging by Amy’s laugh and Zabini’s smirk) and Harry walked out of the store dressed nicely and receiving many smiles from girls walking past. They sat down at a table in the food court, one chair taken up by bags of clothing and accessories.

“Thanks.” Harry said quietly, “I can, uh, pay you back by the time we get back to school. I’ll have to go to Gringotts first.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zabini dismissed. “I’m just glad that you’re out of those horrid garments.” His expression of disgust was so intense that Harry surprised himself (and probably Zabini) by chuckling.

“You really care about looks, don’t you?” he asked in amusement. Zabini looked affronted.

“Looks show your status. You, Potter, are the heir of a rich and powerful family and yet you were dressed like you had wandered in from the nearest homeless shelter. That is unacceptable.” Zabini explained, still looking insulted. Harry had the feeling that Zabini had thought that it was obvious and was disgruntled that Harry had not lived up to it. “It’s a good thing we wear uniforms at school,” he muttered, glancing at Harry.

“Why are you doing all this?” Harry asked, changing the subject. Zabini looked at him before turning his attention to the people milling about them. “Zabini?”

“Obviously, it was because I couldn’t stand to see one of your status dressed so horridly,” Zabini answered, still not looking at him.

“And?” Harry asked. Zabini glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know there’s more to it than that. Or did we just happen to run into each other at a muggle mall?”

“I need a favour,” Zabini said quietly.

“What kind of favour?” Harry asked suspiciously. What could a pureblood Slytherin want from him?

“Shortly before school let out, I received a letter informing me that my family can no longer stay neutral,” Zabini started, sighing. Harry frowned. The rumours at school had been that the Zabini’s have been neutral since before the war. They had refused to side with Voldemort, but had not helped the other side either. Somehow, they had managed to escape conflict when Voldemort was rising in power. “Voldemort’s decided that my mother and I will become Death Eaters. My mother’s newest husband is one and he’s starting to convince my mother.”

“Oh. And how am I supposed to help?” Harry asked. From what he remembered, Zabini’s mother was known as the “Black Widow”. She would get married, then shortly afterwards, her husband would die in a tragic but accidental death, like being attacked by a Hippogriff or having a heart attack. When they died, she would receive all of their money and assets. No one could prove that she was causing their deaths (if she actually was) and men still married her, knowing what had happened to her previous husbands.

“I need to stay away from my house for the summer,” Zabini admitted, refusing to meet the other boy’s gaze.

“You… you want to stay with me at the Dursley’s?” Harry asked in utter bewilderment. Why would a Slytherin (or anyone really) want to willingly put themselves through that?

“No! At one of your estates!” Zabini corrected, looking rightly horrified.

“My estates?” Harry repeated dumbly and was once again on the other side of a disbelieving stare.

“Oh Merlin, you really don’t know anything about your family, do you?” Zabini muttered. Harry blushed and scowled.

“Well people don’t exactly tell me things!” he snapped in defense, glaring defiantly. Zabini shook his head.

“I was just surprised that you didn’t know. Look, I can tell you all I know about your family, if you’d like,” Zabini told him.

“In return for you staying at one of ‘my estates’?” Harry asked and Zabini nodded but said nothing. They sat in silence as Harry internally debated with himself. So if he agreed, he may learn more about his parents than anyone has been willing to tell him. But then, Zabini may be making it all up and he wouldn’t even know. And Zabini’s a Slytherin and possibly a Death Eater in training, despite what he says. If he doesn’t, he may pass up on one of the only chances to learn about his family and may (if Zabini is telling the truth) cause Zabini to either become a Death Eater or be tortured and killed. No matter what his mind was screaming at him, his heart was louder. There was no way he could risk having Zabini killed because he had refused to help him (especially after what had happened to Cedric. Voldemort’s words of “kill the spare” and Cedric’s glazed over eyes still haunted his dreams. Just another person he couldn’t save).

“All right,” he finally said and saw Zabini look at him, his face beginning to relax. “I’ll help you.”

A true smile graced the Slytherin’s face as relief lit up his features. “Thank you.”

“But we’ll have to wait a bit,” Harry added, watching Zabini’s face become expressionless (and no he didn’t feel guilty about raising Zabini’s hopes and then crushing them). “I have to go back to the house now, but we’ll need to arrange a time and a place so we can work through this.”

It was closing to six o’clock by now. The time Vernon had said they would come to the food court to pick him up. He wondered briefly how they would respond to his new clothing but then decided that he really didn’t care.

Zabini relaxed again and nodded. “When will be a good time for you?”

“Any time really, I don’t have much to do this summer.” Harry said, a little bitterness slipping through. After all, it wasn’t like he had any friends to hang out with or family to talk to.

“Boy, let’s go!” a voice snapped and the teens looked up to see Vernon Dursley lumbering towards them. “Who’s this?” he asked rudely, glaring at Zabini.

Zabini gave a polite smile and stood, holding out his hand. “Blaise Zabini, sir. I ran into Harry here and he was nice enough to show me around.” Harry was surprised to hear Zabini speak with a thick Italian accent but didn’t show it.

Vernon frowned at him for a brief moment (in which Harry wondered the best way to run interference between a brute of a man and an intelligent wizard in the middle of a muggle mall), when the man relaxed and smiled. “Is that right? Well, at least he’s good for something then. I’m Vernon Dursley, this boy’s uncle. Are you just visiting?”

Harry openly gaped. Was his uncle being nice? He had never been this nice before, except with Petunia and Dudley. And surely he’d suspect that Zabini was a wizard like Harry was (and with how much Vernon hated anything associated with him, he would have immediately jumped to that conclusion).

“Ah, I’m currently waiting on a hotel while I play tourist.” Zabini chuckled, “My mother decided that I needed to venture out of Italy, and thought Surrey would be a good place to start.”

Vernon chuckled. “Smart woman, Surrey’s one of the best places to visit.” He boasted. “Waiting on a hotel? Are you having trouble?”

“It’s fine. This trip was a little sudden, so I had a hard time finding a decent place with vacancy.” Zabini shrugged helplessly. Vernon frowned, looking thoughtful (that couldn’t be good, Harry decided).

“You liking Surrey so far?” Vernon asked. Zabini nodded.

“Yes, it’s quite nice here, aside from the weather, of course,” he joked. “And I’ve had nice company, so far.” Zabini glanced over at Harry as he said this. Vernon nodded.

“Well, if you’d like, you can stay with us until you find a hotel,” Vernon said, ignoring Harry’s open mouth and wide eyes. Zabini grinned.

“Really? That would be wonderful…but, I don’t want to impose,” Zabini said, looking contrite. Vernon grabbed his shoulder.

“Nonsense, we’d be glad if you’d stay. Especially if you can keep this boy,” here, he gestured to Harry, “distracted.”

“That, I can do,” Zabini said confidently, grinning again.

“Then it’s settled, you’re staying with us,” Vernon said. He then wandered over to where Petunia and Dudley were browsing through several shopping bags they carried.

“You… you… but, how?” Harry stuttered, staring at the other boy in disbelief. Zabini chuckled quietly.

“The wonders of magic, Potter.” He said, raising his right wrist to show the leather bracelet he wore. “Though I didn’t expect for your uncle to invite me over, but this does help us now doesn’t it?”

“What is that?” Harry demanded, staring at the bracelet. How could a simple bracelet make his uncle more happy and agreeable? But then… magic. He’s found over the last few years that magic can do the strangest of things (and really, who needs mirrors that talk to you, or books that try to eat you?)

“It’s a perception charm,” Zabini said. “Those who are non-magical or have low magical power are influenced into seeing or believing what the wearer wants them to, to a certain degree anyway. It doesn’t always work though; there are certain muggles with strong enough minds to see through it, and wizards and witches with high magical power can counter it. In essence, your relatives believe me to be an Italian tourist with no knowledge of the wizarding community and in need of room and board for a few days, but I can’t alter your perception because of your magic.”

“Right…” Harry said slowly, looking amused. Zabini raised that annoying eyebrow again and he shrugged. “It’s just… that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time, you remind me of Hermione.” He said this before he thought it through, and winced, wondering how Zabini would react to being compared to a muggleborn. (But he really was; he was smart, had the second highest grade in all of his classes behind Hermione, though Harry remembered that there was a class Zabini beat Hermione in. And Zabini apparently tended to go on long rambling explanations about things.)

Zabini looked amused. “It’s a good thing I’m not Draco, Potter, or that comment could have been taken the wrong way.”

Before Harry could respond, his relatives came over.

“Hello, I’m Petunia,” Petunia said with a small smile, “I heard you were having hotel trouble. You don’t mind sharing a room with Harry, do you?”

“Not at all, he’s quite interesting,” Zabini said. “I’m Blaise, by the way.”

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you Blaise. I’m glad we can help.” Petunia said.

“I’m Dudley. In my house, anything that doesn’t belong to my cousin belongs to me. Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to.” Dudley said, but then he grinned and clapped Zabini on the back (Harry winced and wondered how long it would take the Slytherin to break and just stun or maim the Dursley’s… which he wouldn’t mind seeing, actually). “Just kidding.”

Zabini chuckled and nodded, shifting slightly so Dudley’s hand fell off his shoulder.

“I’m thankful for your hospitality,” Zabini told the family, looking faintly embarrassed and grateful at the same time (Zabini was a pretty good actor, considering he knew how much the other boy would rather wear horrid clothing (he really cared about his looks) than be near them. Harry wondered what the Dursley’s would think if they ever found out Zabini was a nasty, freakish wizard.)

“Well, come along. Our car’s out this way,” Vernon told Zabini, motioning down to a South set of doors that led outside. The Dursley’s, plus Harry and Zabini, began mingling with the crowd to get to the exit.

Harry eyed his relatives for a moment. They seemed the same, aside from helping Zabini. The only thing different was that they were not insulting or glaring at himself, but were simply ignoring him unless they had to acknowledge him. He wondered how powerful that bracelet of Zabini’s actually was, considering the Dursley’s still seemed a little wary of the Italian. Harry furrowed his brows in thought; would they become suspicious if he and Zabini didn’t call each other by first names, or interact as though they had just met and that Zabini had no idea that he was a wizard?

“Zabini,” Harry hissed, as he came up beside the other boy. Zabini glanced at him but kept walking. “I think we should call each other by our first names, or they’ll get suspicious.”

Zabini – no, Blaise – looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, before slowly nodding. “Fine. I’m Blaise, you’re Harry.” Was all he said, continuing to follow the Dursley’s.

Harry nodded in return, though he frowned slightly. Had Zabini thought that he wouldn’t know his first name? (he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the only reason he had known was because of school rumours and Zabini’s introduction to the Dursley’s – Zabini was known as the quietest Slytherin for a reason.). He shook his head and looked forward. There was no use in getting into any more internal debates than he had already done that day.

Then another thought came to him: what would Zabini think of the car? Would he know what it was? Would he be willing to get in it?

Surprisingly, however, Zabini – Blaise, his name is Blaise – didn’t bat an eye at the muggle mode of transportation and instead climbed into the backseat with Harry and Dudley without complaint.

“So, where is it exactly that you live?” Zabini was questioning Vernon, looking curious (How had Harry never noticed that Zabini was such a great actor? He even had a small smile! And at some point, Harry would start thinking of Zabini as Blaise… hopefully.)

“Not too far off, in Little Whinging, it’s only about a twenty minute drive from here.” Vernon told their guest. “It’s a nice place, in a nice neighbourhood.”

“Really? Nice neighbourhoods seem so hard to find nowadays,” Zabini commented almost wistfully.

“Too right,” Vernon agreed. “There are always pesky solicitors and those thugs that like to hang around.”

“Exactly.” Zabini nodded. Harry wondered if Zabini was thinking of Death Eaters and muggleborns ‘invading’ the Pureblood domain, but the other boy’s face gave nothing away. “In my neighbourhood, there are a lot of… thugs, as you called them. They have no respect for the families that just want to stay out of any fights.”

Harry glanced over at him, but Zabini was looking at Vernon, listening to him ramble on about what had been on the news lately, and asking him more about Zabini’s home.

When they finally managed to reach the Dursley household intact (Harry had suspicions that with his bad luck, and a Slytherin in the car with him, something magical was bound to happen. Fortunately, he was wrong), Harry led said Slytherin into the house, and to his own room.

“You can have the bed,” Harry told him, “seeing as how you’re the guest and all. Do you have any questions, Blaise?” (Harry had been silently practicing for the drive, and was pleased that he could now associate the Slytherin with a first name, without it coming out as an insult.)

Blaise looked amused. “Have you been practicing that the whole car ride?”

Harry flushed bright red. “Not the whole way,” he muttered.

He was not sure who was more surprised when Blaise laughed – actually laughed, not mocking in any way. Then Blaise said, “Well, that’s something, I suppose. And you can take the bed, I came prepared.”

Before Harry could ask what he meant, Blaise reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box that he opened. Inside the box was a miniature bed. Blaise pulled it out and set it on the floor, backing up and pulling Harry with him. As Harry watched, the bed slowly began to grow in size until it reached a regular human-sized bed.

Harry stared in astonishment for a moment, and then remembered magic. Magic, which did weird things like transport you places using an old, disgusting boot or a fireplace or books that screamed when you opened them and portraits that talked to you or flying with cleaning equipment or-. He stopped himself from continuing, fairly certain he would not reach an end to all the bizarre things he had seen magic do.

“…You do realize my aunt and uncle are going to wonder where the second bed came from, right?” Harry finally asked. Blaise smirked

“When a muggle gets near, the bed, and anything on it, looks like an ordinary muggle camping cot. Though it only works for about ten minutes.” Blaise shrugged.

“That’s handy,” Harry muttered. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s pretty expensive, I didn’t expect you to have heard of it before,” Blaise answered and Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Just because the Weasley’s-” Harry was cut off.

“It’s a simple fact. The Weasley’s are not rich, and you don’t really associate with any other magical family, so why would they mention an expensive magical bed? I wasn’t trying to insult them… Harry,” Blaise explained. Harry struggled to hide the grin at Blaise’s hesitation in saying his name.

“Guess I wasn’t the only one with a name issue.” Harry shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just a little high-strung right now with, you know, harbouring a Slytherin in my room. Imagine what everyone’ll do to me if they found out.” Harry sighed heavily, a little bit exaggerated and was rewarded with a small quirk of the lips from Blaise.

The door to the room opened quickly, slamming into the wall (Harry was thankful he had installed a door-stopper to keep the door from chipping and damaging the wall). Harry glanced over to the other side of the room and noticed that Blaise’s magic bed really did turn into a muggle cot.

Vernon stood in the doorway, frowning slightly at the two boys. “Dinner will be ready in a hour.” He scowled darkly, before he turned to exit. “And boy, get some blankets and pillows from the closet.” He then left the room.

There was a beat of silence before Harry looked at his guest in awe. “Can you stay here all summer?”

Blaise looked amused and raised that (annoying) eyebrow again, so Harry rushed on.

“It’s just… it’s not me doing all the cooking and I might even get out of cleaning the dishes too. And they’re the ones that invited you to stay so they can’t complain to me about it!” Harry grinned, looking only partially crazed.

“Or you could just stay at your estate, where you don’t have to do any cooking or cleaning unless you want to. And you wouldn’t have to deal with your relatives at all,” Blaise countered with a small smirk.

“I could, couldn’t I?” Harry pondered. He really hadn’t thought about doing that but it did make sense, no chores, no relatives and he could still keep an eye on Blaise and pester him about his family and the magical world in general. “That is, of course, if you’re actually telling me the truth.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, deigning not to provide that comment with an answer and wandered over to his bed that had now reappeared. He adjusted the thick blue quilt and the two pillows before dropping his backpack onto the bed.

“Shall I start teaching you what you should already know? Though we should probably head to Gringotts soon…” Blaise mumbled to himself, frowning. Harry blinked.

“Why would we need to go to Gringotts?” Harry asked. Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Because they keep detailed records of all accounts opened and who opened them. They can also help to explain your responsibilities as the Potter heir and get you into contact with your advisor,” Blaise explained.

“… I have an advisor?” Harry finally asked. Blaise sighed.

“Gringotts it is. I’ll get us an appointment.” Blaise said, pulling out a sheaf of parchment from his bag, along with a quill and a jar of ink. He quickly wrote something onto the parchment and put away the quill and ink. “Do you mind if I borrow your owl? I didn’t bring Heleos with me.”

“Uh, yeah. If it’s okay with her,” Harry agreed. He stiffened and waited for the teasing about getting permission from an owl but Blaise just nodded and looked to Hedwig.

“Her name’s Hedwig, right?” At Harry’s nod, Blaise walked over to the owl. “I need this delivered to Gringotts, Hedwig, are you willing to do that for me?” The Italian held up the sheaf of parchment. Hedwig eyed him, before hooting quietly and sticking out her leg. Blaise gave a small smile and carefully tied the parchment to her leg. “Thank you, Hedwig.”

Hedwig hooted and opened her wings, flying out the window that Harry had opened. Harry looked impressed.

“Well, I guess you’re all right after all, if Hedwig likes you,” he commented, grinning slightly at Blaise’s raised eyebrow.

“Good to know you use your owl as a means of determining character,” Blaise said dryly.

“It works and I trust Hedwig’s decisions.” Harry agreed. “Now, why don’t you explain the basics of… well, magical stuff.”

Blaise sighed but patted the bed beside him. “Magical stuff,” he muttered under his breath.

“Boys! Dinner’s ready! Get down here!” Vernon yelled up the stairs. Harry winced and immediately stood.

“Later. You get to deal with playing a muggle now,” Harry said, already heading for the door. Blaise sighed again but followed.

“How hard can it be to play a muggle?” he muttered to himself.

Dinner was awkward. For one, Harry had not done the cooking so Petunia was subtly glaring at him every so often, though it was obvious Blaise knew judging by the slight smirk he wore (when had he begun to understand Blaise’s facial expressions?). Dudley chattered on to his parents about what he and his friends were planning to do tomorrow (which thankfully did not involve Harry-tag: a game where Dudley and his friends chased Harry around the block and when they caught him, for they always did eventually, throw rocks at him or tackle him or sit on him and other things like that.)

Vernon and Petunia questioned Blaise about his own home in Italy and his touring London while Dudley asked him about the videogames and girls they had in Italy (Harry thought he needed to work on his priorities). Blaise took all the questions in stride, saying that he was from a rich family in Italy, no he did not know much about the videogames compared to England but he did know that he was quite fond of the girls in Italy.

The Dursely’s seemed to be buying Blaise’s story and slowly became more relaxed and open throughout the meal. There was even laughing, though not from Harry or Blaise. Harry was almost petrified during dinner, in too much shock to concentrate on eating a meal that he had not cooked himself.

Once dinner had ended and Blaise had extended his gratitude to the Dursley’s, he and Harry retreated to Harry’s room. As soon as the door closed, Blaise sighed in relief and flopped gracefully down onto his bed. It was one of the first actions Harry had seen from the pureblood that was commonplace for a teenager and he could not stop a chuckle from escaping his throat.

“Well, you managed dinner,” he joked, seating himself on his own bed. Blaise groaned, a little theatrically in Harry’s opinion.

“Please do not put me through that again, Potter. Your relatives are horrid,” Blaise complained, sitting up. Harry laughed.

Just then, Hedwig flew in through the window and landed on the bed next to Blaise. She hooted and trilled her feathers at him. Blaise gave a small smile and reached out.

“Hullo Hedwig,” he greeted untying a letter from her leg. Hedwig hooted again and hopped over to her cage, where Harry gave her an owl treat.

“What is that?” Harry asked as Blaise opened a wax sealed envelope.

“A response from Gringotts, I’d assume,” Blaise said, pulling out some parchment and unfolding it. He grinned as he read it. “I was right. The goblins are furious that you weren’t aware of your responsibilities or your advisor. They’ve promised to look into it and requested that we set a grand meeting in a week’s time to give them a chance to review their information. Also, they’ve sent notification to your advisor, a Christian Lucas Williams, and are willing to forward any response they receive to you.”

Harry blinked. “That’s good, right?”

“Very good.” Blaise confirmed. “This means that the goblins are on your side at the moment.”

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked, detecting an underlying meaning.

“Harry, you aren’t aware of your responsibilities as the Potter heir, but you’re over thirteen years old. At your age, legally you should know, so obviously either you were overlooked because of the war which is unlikely or someone made sure you wouldn’t for some reason but informed the goblins that you were aware,” Blaise explained, looking slightly apologetic.

“Oh,” Harry muttered quietly, frowning. Who could have done that? And why? “Dumbledore,” he breathed out, shock and understanding filling him. Dumbledore had access to his father’s invisibility cloak; he’d had the key to Harry’s vault that his parents had set up for him. Who else could convince the goblins that he would know what he needed?

Blaise winced slightly. “Harry… you don’t know that for certain.” He trailed off when Harry looked at him.

“But you had your suspicions, didn’t you?” Harry challenged, clenching his fists.

Blaise looked him in the eye. “I did,” he confirmed. “As you have no living relatives that could take the claim as Potter heir, and yet you did not know your own responsibilities, someone had to have not wanted you to know. And Dumbledore has always been interested in the Potter’s, and that would explain why the Weasley’s never told you either, they’re loyal to Dumbledore and thinks he always knows best.”

“Ron… knew?” Harry asked, disbelievingly before scolding himself. Of course Ron knew, he was from a pureblood family, after all. But it still felt horrible to have to be told by a Slytherin, and not only that, but one he had only spoken to in the past day. And for all the reading Hermione has done on the wizarding culture, surely she must have known as well. But she could have assumed that he had known after all and just not mentioned it.

“Harry?” Blaise’s voice broke through his thoughts and Harry sighed.

“I need to get new friends.” He mumbled, before he turned to his guest. “How soon can we go to Gringotts?”

Blaise blinked at the abrupt change in topic but replied nonetheless. “Well, the letter says about a few days to gather the information and requested a meeting with the goblins, your advisor and anyone else the goblins deem should attend, in a week or so. We can go tomorrow or the day after to review the basic magical stuff as you put it, if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry declared.

“Tomorrow,” Blaise agreed.

Chapter Text

By the time the sun had risen and the dew had settled, Harry and Blaise were prepped for their visit to Diagon Alley. Vernon and Petunia took one look at them and waved them off without even asking where they were going or when they would return. Harry was used to it of course, but he still, in the back of his mind that screamed for family, ached to know they didn’t care and yet pestered Dudley for exact details.

Blaise had once again shocked Harry with his knowledge of muggles, as he pulled out a cell phone and called for a cab to pick them up down the street. As they trudged out the front door and into the cul-de-sac, Blaise began to explain.

“If we caught a cab at your place, any wizards in the area would know. You mentioned last night that Si-… your godfather had said that there was an auror that kept an eye on your place during the summer, right?” Blaise asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think he said that he was a drunk or something…”

“Right. Well, would an auror allow you to go to Diagon Alley without Dumbledore’s or the Ministry’s permission, let alone with a Slytherin?” Blaise continued.

Harry looked thoughtful. “No. I suppose not. I am the boy-who-lived after all,” he said dryly. Blaise snorted slightly before they exited the cul-de-sac.

“I don’t see anyone out of place right now. Do you suppose he’d remain hidden, like with magic or something?” Harry asked.

“It’s possible,” Blaise accepted. “There are charms and spells that can hide a person in plain sight or make them invisible to the naked eye. But don’t worry; with my bracelet and your disguise, no one should recognize us without a close look. Let’s just hope no one saw us leave the Dursley’s.”

Blaise still had on his magic leather bracelet that altered people’s perceptions of him, unless they had strong magical power. He had also insisted Harry dress up; Harry was wearing a new pair of jeans, a new emerald shirt that brought out his eyes, a ball cap that hid most of his face and a new pair of sneakers. Simple, but even Harry didn’t recognize himself in the mirror at first, he was so used to ratty clothes and unkempt shoes. Blaise was wearing a purple shirt, black jeans and sneakers, along with his leather bracelet and the ring he had been wearing before.

“That would be bad,” Harry muttered, thinking how Ron would react if he found out Harry had willingly gone out alone with a Slytherin, especially a Slytherin whom openly admitted to being in the Dark Lord’s sight. How would Dumbledore react? Probably, somehow, ban him from communicating with Slytherins and keeping him in school during the holidays. Hermione would probably be scornful, despite how she hates the house-rivalry and such, for trusting a Slytherin so easily.

The taxi met them at the corner Blaise had specified and they both entered.

“The Kings Head in Market Square please.” Blaise informed the driver, whom nodded and began to drive off. Harry gave his companion an odd look.

“Kings Head is near the Leaky Cauldron, and happens to be muggle.” Blaise murmured to him quietly. Harry nodded.

“All right, we should stop by a glasses place, get your eyes checked and get you some new glasses.” Blaise declared and Harry flushed, fingering his old, cracked glasses.

“These are fine, Blaise. I can fix them later.” Harry protested. Blaise merely gave him a disapproving look.

“That is not acceptable, Harry. You need new glasses that will last you more than a year without being ruined.” Blaise argued. The driver chuckled quietly.

“Sorry to butt in, but your friend’s right. I know there’s a sale on at the local eye care center. It’s just a few blocks from Kings Head too.” The driver explained. Blaise looked triumphant.

“See? It wouldn’t even be that much out of our way!” he exclaimed. Harry sighed; he knew he was not going to win this one.

“Fine.” He sulked, leaning back in his seat.

------

As Blaise and Harry exited the eye care center, Harry carried a case for a new pair of glasses (that were the proper prescription too – the doctor had been offended and concerned that he had been using cheap damaged glasses with a prescription that no longer worked for him. Blaise hadn’t looked too impressed either). Upon Blaise’s insistence, Harry had also gotten a spare set of glasses and a pair of prescription sunglasses.

“Do I really need three pairs? I’ve managed fine with one pair for years!” Harry complained, following Blaise down the sidewalk. Blaise gave him a sidelong look.

“Your old glasses were cheap and not the right prescription. They also broke easily and were not aesthetically pleasing.” Blaise scrunched his nose slightly and Harry sighed.

“Are looks the only thing you care about?” Harry asked.

“Well, not only. I find intellect to be something to care about, and money as well.” Blaise grinned.

“At least you’re honest,” Harry muttered. Blaise chuckled and led him down the street where Harry spotted the Leaky Cauldron. When they entered, Harry was surprised there was no shouting, gasping or simple staring in his direction. The occupants merely glanced at the new arrivals before returning to their business.

Harry fought down a grin. It felt so good to not have everyone staring at him and watching his every move. Blaise urged them along and they both slipped into the bathroom to change into wizarding robes. (“Not only do robes show your social status, but they don’t stick out as much as muggle clothing would.” Blaise argued when Harry had to borrow a set of Blaise’s because his weren’t acceptable.)

The pair followed an elderly couple to the entrance behind the pub and headed into Diagon Alley.

Their first stop was Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, so Harry could have the finest wardrobe of both muggle and wizard clothing. Blaise headed straight for the owner, speaking quickly in low tones and pointing towards Harry. Madam Malkin immediately pushed Harry onto a stool for measurements, muttering to herself. Harry shot Blaise an exasperated look as Madam Malkin bustled out of the room.

“What did you say to her?” he demanded once she was gone. Blaise smirked.

“I told her you needed the finest dress robes, of the best material she has. And that you have no idea what colour looks good on you, so she should decide for you,” he said, grinning. “Don’t worry, I told her you were partial to green.”

Harry, if possible, looked even more exasperated, but said nothing more as Madam Malkin reentered the room.

“Change into these, please. The change rooms are over there.” Madam Malkin pointed to the side and Harry went without complaint (He was fairly certain that if he had argued on the subject of looks again with Blaise in the immediate area, he’d be subjected to a horrendously long and ridiculous lecture from the Slytherin and perhaps Madam Malkin as well).

The robes fit perfectly and certainly looked expensive but best of all, only one set was green. Madam Malkin accepted the robes back to hem them properly and told them to come by later that day.

Harry glared at Blaise as they left the store. “Green? Really?”

Blaise grinned. “We’ll make a Slytherin out of you yet!”

Harry sighed. “Wonderful. Instead of the quidditch obsessed Ron and bookworm Hermione, I get narcissistic, manipulative Blaise. Way to step it up, Potter.” He muttered. Blaise still heard him and chuckled, patting his shoulder.

“Come on, little snake. Let’s get to Gringotts.” He snickered. Harry rolled his eyes but followed him down the street.

They entered Gringotts without any more delay and waited in line. Harry glanced around, taking in all the people who only gave a cursory glance towards him before ignoring him. It was still surreal to him, but he kind of enjoyed no one knowing he was even there. They eventually appeared before a goblin and Harry remained quiet, waiting to see what Blaise would do.

Blaise leaned forward. “I’m temporarily advising one Harrigan Potter. He wishes to remain unnoticed.”

The goblin, Griphook by the name plaque, looked closely at the two teenagers. Nodding, he held out his hand. “Key, please.”

Harry held out his key until Griphook nodded again, and he replaced it into his pocket. (He was just thankful Hagrid had let him keep the key otherwise this may have been more complicated than it already was).

“Grimlock will guide you to Blackknot for a brief meeting.” Griphook informed them, waving them aside. Harry and Blaise followed Grimlock, whom waited by the counter, out of the main hall of the bank.

“Blackknot will see you now,” Grimlock told them, stopping at a beautifully designed and carved wooden door. Blaise nodded and gave a small bow, and Harry quickly followed his example.

“Thank you, Mr. Grimlock,” Blaise spoke formally as he straightened up. Grimlock looked pleased, before he too bowed and left.

Blaise walked through the open door and motioned Harry inside. He closed it behind them. A goblin, Blackknot, looked up from the parchment on his desk and stood, walking over to them.

“I am Blackknot and I will be serving you today,” he introduced. Blaise nodded before shaking the goblin’s hand.

“Blaise Zabini. I am here to act as an advisor to Harrrigan Potter,” Blaise introduced himself. Harry took that as a sign and pulled off his wizard’s hat Blaise had convinced him to wear before shaking Blackknot’s hand.

“Greetings Lord Zabini, Mr. Potter,” Blackknot said, bowing his head slightly and gesturing to the seats in front of the desk. “Please take a seat and we shall get straight to business.”

Harry and Blaise took the seats as Blackknot returned to his own seat behind the desk. He folded his hands on the desk and looked at them.

“Now, where shall we begin?” he asked.

“Harry has no knowledge of his responsibilities as the Potter heir, nor is he aware of his family history from both the Potter and Evans’ sides. He also is unfamiliar with his own advisor, Christian Lucas Williams I believe the letter stated.” Blaise informed the goblin. Blackknot looked unimpressed, frowning.

“Mr. Potter. What do you know about your family?” Blackknot asked.

“Uh, well, my dad was a rich pureblood, a Chaser in school, was the Head Boy, was a prankster and was friends with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and… Pettigrew. I look a lot like him. My mum was a muggleborn, was really smart, was the Head Girl and refused to date my dad for years before agreeing. She had red hair and I have her eyes.” Harry said meekly.

Blackknot sighed. “Mr. Potter, I will provide you with family trees for the Potter’s and for the Evans’ as well as a detailed account of your parents’ holdings and trust funds in both the Potter and Evans names. Anything more detailed is up to your advisor. We have already contacted him and he has agreed to arrive at a yet disclosed location for a meeting with you, a Gringotts representative and your temporary advisor. We will send you a letter with the date and place.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds fine to me.”

“Mr. Williams will discuss with you your estates, accounts and investments as well as any personal information regarding your parents. He has been taking care of the Potter finances in the absence of the previous lord.” Blackknot continued. Blaise frowned.

“‘Absence’? Is James Potter not listed as deceased?” Blaise asked. Harry started and glanced at his companion.

“What?” He blurted in confusion. How could his father not be dead? (He couldn’t help but think of Sirius and how the Ministry was so messed up that he hadn’t even been given a trial. Maybe… He mentally shook himself from this train of thought).

“There is no confirmation of death.” Blackknot intoned, flipping through a stack of parchment. “The records do not list him as deceased but as indisposed.”

“Really?” Blaise’s (still annoying) eyebrow rose. “Then, I request copies of all pertaining documents.”

“Of course.” Blackknot agreed quickly. “Where shall we send them?”

“Potter Manor in Scotland, though I wish for the delivery to be unnoticed.” Blaise answered and Blackknot nodded, making a note on a parchment.

“Are there any other questions you would like to ask?” Blackknot questioned. Blaise glanced at Harry.

“Yes,” Harry started. “Does anyone else have access to my vaults?”

“The Potter vaults are only accessible by a blood-Potter or a confirmed advisor,” Blackknot informed him. “However, it appears that Mr. Albus Dumbledore has bypassed this rule by claiming to be your wizarding guardian. Since you are fifteen, you can dismiss his claim if you would so like.”

“Absolutely,” Harry replied immediately. Blackknot made another note on the parchment.

“Is that all then?” Blackknot asked.

“We can come back if we have more questions, right?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Blackknot confirmed.

“Then, we would like to visit the Potter vaults, as well as the Zabini vaults,” Blaise answered.

“I will have Grimlock guide you there. Mr. Potter will have to provide a blood sample.” Blackknot told them as he stood.

Harry nodded, standing as well. “Of course,” he said, shaking the goblin’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Blackknot.”

Blaise also shook Blackknot’s hand and the two exited the office.

Grimlock was waiting for them at the end of the hall.

“This way, please.” The goblin spoke, gesturing down the hall before bowing slightly. Harry and Blaise bowed in return. They followed the goblin to a cart and climbed inside. The three rushed down the tracks into the depths of Gringotts.

-------

“Here we are, sirs. Key, please.” Grimlock held out a hand. Harry dropped his key into his hand and Grimlock handed him a small piece of parchment with six raised indents in the middle. Harry looked at it in confusion.

“Press your thumb into the bumps, Harry. It’ll take a sample of your blood to confirm that you are Harry Potter,” Blaise explained and Grimlock nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Harry pressed his thumb into the parchment and felt the prick of pain before he removed his thumb. He watched in fascination as his blood was absorbed into the parchment and his name appeared underneath the dots. He handed the parchment back to the goblin whom looked at it briefly before passing another piece of parchment to Blaise.

“I have to do it too because I’m claiming to be your temporary advisor,” Blaise said as he pressed his thumb into the parchment. When his name appeared, he handed it to Grimlock.

“Does that mean you’ll have access to my vaults?” Harry wondered, unsure what to think of a Slytherin who had ties to the Dark Lord, being able to get into his vaults. Blaise shook his head.

“No. I’m only a temporary advisor. I’ll only have access if I’m with you and you allow me to or if I have a letter written by you and signed in your blood that you’re giving me access,” Blaise told him.

“That is correct,” Grimlock agreed. “Unless you want to make Lord Zabini a permanent advisor. In which case you would have to go through the paperwork and security checks and also have the approval of both Mr. Blackknot and Mr. Williams.”

“Oh, I’ll have to think about that.” Harry replied. Grimlock nodded and held out an intricate gold key emblazoned with different coloured jewels.

“This is the Potter key for all the vaults and not just your trust fund. Since you are over the age of thirteen, this should be in your possession as you are now ready to claim the title of Lord. On behalf of Gringotts, I apologise for the delay.” Grimlock said. Harry took the key, examining it.

“That is the master key, Harry. Only a Potter of blood or a confirmed advisor can use it.” Blaise explained.

“A ‘Potter of blood’?” Harry questioned, looking at his companions.

“You need to be a Potter by blood, you can’t just simply be married into the family. Your mother, for instance, would not have been able to use the key unless an approved blood ritual was performed,” Blaise informed him. “For the ritual, your father would have had to supply some of his blood. That blood would then be transferred into your mother. Of course, her blood would remain as it was before, except that, through the ritual, certain markers would exist that would identify her as a Potter as well as an Evans.”

“Lillian Evans did not, at the time, have the ritual performed since her death occurred a mere year and a half after the marriage was finalized. There is a two year waiting period before the ritual is allowed,” Grimlock continued for the Zabini. He then retook the master key and pulled out another, smaller key and inserted them into the door before sliding his nail down an unseen slit. Harry could hear the unlocking bars before the door finally opened, though he was a little busy processing what he had just been told.

Grimlock handed the master key back to a dazed Harry, motioning the two wizards inside. “Take your time, sirs. I will wait by the cart.”

Blaise nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Grimlock.”

Grimlock walked away and Blaise turned to Harry. “Well?”

Harry entered through the door first, Blaise followed, closing the door behind them.

Harry looked around. They were in what looked like a broom closet with plain burgundy walls that was lit by four torches that sent a glow through the room. There was nothing else in the room except for three wooden doors with intricate designs carved into each.

“This is the main branch,” Blaise started. He pointed to the doors. “Each door leads to a different room. The standard set up is that one contains money, one contains treasures and heirlooms and the last is for the owner’s choosing. Usually it’s another room for treasures or money but some families use it for other things. I can wait out here while you look around.”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “I want you with me in case I have any questions. There is a condition, however.”

“And that is what?” Blaise inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Your wand. I need your wand,” Harry said. “It’s not because I think that you would actually do anything or anything like that-”

“It’s fine, Harry. We’ve only really known each other for two days. In fact, I’d be a little worried if you trusted me that easily,” Blaise cut him off as he handed over his wand.

“Thank you,” Harry said, pocketing the wand. “Which room’s which?”

Blaise shrugged. “It all depends on the owner. I guess you’ll just have to pick a door.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. “Just pick a door. Any door.” He moved to the door furthest to the left and opened it. “Huh.”

Blaise peaked in over his shoulder. “I guess you found the money room, then.”

Inside the room was gold and silver. The room was piled almost to the ceiling with gold and silver coins and Harry could not see where the room ended. From behind him, Blaise chuckled.

“The Potter family is still one of the richest in the magical community,” Blaise said. “And this is only the London vault.”

“There’s more?” Harry asked, disbelievingly. He stared in awe as he entered the room. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Should we be grabbing some money now?”

“It might be a good idea,” Blaise admitted. “I plan to spend the rest of the day teaching you things you should have already known. Here.” He held out a small coin bag that he had gotten from a small table in the corner that Harry had not noticed before. “It’s magically enlarged so it’ll hold a lot of money.”

“Really? Thank you.” Harry grinned before turning back to the money with the bag in hand. He started piling money into the bag. The weight of the bag did not change nor did its size. “Do you think this is enough?”

“I think so. You can always come back for more if you need to,” Blaise said, peering into the bag.

Harry nodded and tucked the bag into his pocket. They left the room and Harry opened the middle door. He blinked in confusion.

“This is the treasure room,” Blaise told him, motioning to the piles and tables full of jewelry, books, weapons and other objects. “Most of the stuff in here is very rare and very powerful.”

Harry stepped into the room, looking around curiously. His eyes caught sight of a glass case on a nearby table. Inside were two wands laying on pillowed stands.

“Those would be your parents’ wands,” Blaise said quietly and Harry saw the plaque at the bottom of the stands, which inscribed the names of his parents. Impulsively, he opened the case and picked up his father’s wand.

“I have a feeling I’ll need it,” Harry explained to Blaise’s questioning look. The Italian shrugged, accepting the answer.

“Is there anything else you want to take? You can always come back later,” Blaise asked, looking around the room. Abruptly, he stilled before walking over to a table pressed into the corner. He stopped in front of a necklace on a pillow in a jewelry box. It was a thin silver chain with an intricately crafted and designed silver dragon whose wings were expanded. The dragon’s eyes gleamed gold, noticeable against the silver of its body.

“Blaise?” Harry asked curiously. Blaise motioned him over and carefully lifted the necklace.

“Here, put this on Harry,” Blaise said, holding it out.

Harry accepted it and looked it over. Something inside him seemed to be pulling at the necklace.

“It’s a very powerful pendant,” Blaise started. “The dragon happens to be the symbol of the Potter family. It represents freedom, power and wisdom. This necklace will protect you from minor spells, potions and curses. It will also prevent you from being bewitched and will change your appearance in such a way that it is not detectable by modern magic. Even Auror “Mad-Eye” Moony would have trouble identifying you.”

“Whoa,” Harry murmured, running his fingertip gently over the cool metal.

“Now, the silver is elven and the gold is goblin. It was crafted by the magic of these creatures and is virtually unbreakable. You shouldn’t let Voldemort or Dumbledore get their hands on this necklace,” Blaise told him.

Harry hesitated but then put the necklace on, the pendant touching his skin. Surprisingly, the metal was warm as soon as it made contact and he felt calm and safe. Blaise grinned.

“Okay, appearance changes have to be done manually. Just think about what you want to look like and concentrate. The pendant will do the rest,” Blaise explained, shifting slightly. Harry frowned at him.

“What’s with you?” he asked. Blaise shrugged.

“It’s just… that necklace was the only one ever made! It was a gift to Gloria Potter, your great-grandmother, from both the elves and the goblins in return for her aid. She promoted the rights of magical creatures like goblins, elves, centaurs, werewolves, demons, nymphs and vampires. She even legally changed all Potter estates into sanctuaries for them; the Ministry cannot remove any magical creature from such an estate without reasonable proof of guilt,” Blaise said, still grinning.

“That’s really cool.” Harry smiled, looking down at the necklace. “How do you know so much about the Potter’s anyway?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “While you may have been hidden from your family history, I was not. Your family is well known, even before that Halloween. They were very powerful, influential and not afraid to use their power at their discretion.”

Harry was silent, mulling over what he had learned. He glanced at the wand he still held before slipping it into his pocket.

“Let’s check out the last room,” he finally said. Blaise nodded and followed him back out into the hall.

Harry determinedly entered the last room and halted. “What is all this?” he wondered.

The room was filled with various obscure looking objects ranging from swords to books to cages to plants.

“It could be stuff loaned to or being held by the Potter’s,” Blaise suggested, entering the room. “Magical creatures typically aren’t allowed access to Gringotts or the magical community in general. Your friend, Professor Lupin, would have such troubles.”

“So, my family kept precious items for magical creatures? How would they get them back if my parents are dead?” Harry asked.

“Well, they’d have to get in contact with the Potter advisor and he’d be able to come in and get the item for them,” Blaise said.

Harry was silent for a moment, taking one last long look around before he announced. “I’m ready to go.” Blaise nodded and the two left the room. When they were in the hall, Blaise stopped him from continuing.

“Wait,” he said. “Why don’t you try the necklace out?”

Harry concentrated. It felt as though he were pushing against an immovable, invisible wall. He concentrated harder until the wall became thinner and then shattered. Harry opened his eyes. “Well?”

Blaise stared. Harry’s scar was gone, his emerald eyes had blended to a sea green and his messy black hair had shortened to a straight brown. “Looking good.” He grinned as Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“How long will this last?” Harry asked, inspecting himself in a mirror that had appeared on one of the walls. Blaise shrugged.

“It depends on the wearer’s magical power. For you, probably a few days straight without any breaks. You’ll know when you’ve reached the limit. It recharges through your magic. You’ll have to consciously change yourself back unless you drain it.” Explained the Slytherin.

“Then, let’s go!” Harry said, pulling the pureblood out of the vault. Blaise chuckled quietly, allowing himself to be pulled along. Harry was surprised at how much he had come to trust Blaise and that worried him. They had only really known each other a few days, but Blaise was smart, calm, polite with a sense of humour and best of all, he felt safe.

-------

Grimlock and Blackknot were waiting for them by the cart. The both of them did not look surprised at Harry’s change of appearance and in fact, seemed a little pleased.

“I see Lord Zabini has shown you the Pendant of Honour,” Blackknot said with a nod of his head. He held out something in his hand to the said Lord and Blaise accepted it, lifting up a thin leather bracelet for inspection. “If you would please exchange.”

Blaise slipped off his own bracelet and put the new one on. As Harry watched in astonishment, Blaise’s eyes darkened, his skin lightened to a more caramel tan, his nose shortened and his hair lengthened but maintained the same spiky raven appearance.

“This bracelet will do the same as your perception charm but at a much higher degree. It is also less detectable and more powerful. Also, it will last for a longer period of time than your charm would have. As you are aiding Mr. Potter in his rightful acknowledgement and inheritance, on behalf of the goblins of Gringotts, I present you with the Bracelet of Misdirection. You would be wise to treat it well.” Blackknot finished his monologue with a small bow.

“I thank you, Mr. Blackknot, it is a wonderful and useful gift. I will treat it well,” Blaise assured with a smile and a small bow in return.

Blackknot shook hands with the both of them. “The documents you requested have been sent to the Scotland Potter Manor. The two of you are most welcome to return any time. I bid you farewell.”

As Blackknot left, Grimlock ushered them to the cart. “Is there anything else you require, sirs?”

“Yes, I would like to visit my family vaults,” Blaise told him, holding up his key. Grimlock nodded and started the cart.

They stopped at the vault long enough for Blaise to obtain some currency and for Harry to poke around at a few objects before they were on their way again. Then, Grimlock escorted them back to the main hall where they both exchanged some money for muggle currency.

“That was… so weird,” Harry muttered as they left Gringotts. Blaise chuckled beside him but said nothing. “Oh! Your wand, here!” Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out the Slytherin’s wand and handed it back to him. “Thank you for letting me hold on to it.”

With an over exasperated sigh, Blaise accepted the wand and put it into his pocket. “Harry, I already told you I understood, but you’re welcome all the same. Now, is there anything you need to get in Diagon Alley?”

Harry shrugged. “We haven’t gotten our school lists yet, so I don’t think so.”

Blaise shook his head. “You don’t want to look at anything? Not even the quidditch store?”

Harry blinked and stopped. “Oh. Actually that does sound pretty good.”

The Slytherin chuckled again, casually strolling down the busy street. “Honestly Harry, I thought you were quidditch obsessed like your friend is?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry told him, rolling his eyes. “But… whenever I get to go to Diagon Alley, it’s usually only to get my school stuff before we need to rush back.” He shrugged. “I haven’t actually been to Diagon Alley for any other reason before.”

Blaise frowned, but kept walking. It seemed he was mulling something over so Harry let him be for now.

They spent the rest of the day wandering around Diagon Alley and checking things out. Harry used his new ability of not being in the spotlight to his advantage, spending an obscene amount of time drooling over brooms (much to Blaise’s amusement) and simply looking into stores without being bombarded by the customers and store owners.

By the time they finished, it was nearing late afternoon and they were laden down with bags of stuff. Harry had bought, among other things, a new cage for Hedwig, some more owl treats, new quills, new quidditch equipment and some books on the history of wizarding communities and magical creatures that Blaise thought would help him understand the magical world. They had removed their disguises (imagine if the Dursley’s had seen them with them on. Harry wasn’t sure that would go over very well), caught a taxi back to Harry’s place, and were just unloading the bags onto the street and paying the taxi driver when another car pulled up.

Two men stepped out, dressed in the law enforcement uniform.

“Excuse me, would one of you be Harry Potter?” one asked. Blaise and Harry looked at each other and Blaise shrugged.

“I am,” Harry said, putting the bags he was holding onto the ground. “What is this about?”

“We received a call from one of your neighbours, they seemed to think there may have been child neglect occurring. Where were you today?” the other officer asked.

“Uh, well, Blaise and I went shopping, as you could see, for new school clothes and stuff.” Harry stumbled over his words slightly, lifting up one of the bags to show the officers.

“What is going on here?” Vernon’s voice boomed. Harry almost felt relieved to hear him, which surprised him to no end. He and Blaise stood off to the side as Vernon, with Petunia and Dudley following, marched up to the officers.

“Are you Vernon Dursley?” the first officer asked. “I’m Constable Corrigan and this’ Constable Scott. We have a few questions for you.”

“And what kinds of questions are they?” Vernon growled.

“Do you know where your nephew was today?” Scott asked. Harry winced.

“What did he do now? Like he doesn’t cause enough embarrassment already,” Vernon muttered the last part but it was clear that the officers had heard.

“Mr. Dursley, please answer the question,” Corrigan said.

“Fine! He was with Blaise over here, doing whatever it is teenagers do,” Vernon answered, his face beginning to tinge red.

Corrigan and Scott exchanged glances.

“So you don’t know where your nephew was today or when he was returning?” Corrigan asked, frowning.

“No, why would I?” Vernon blurted out. Behind him, Petunia winced, reaching out to touch him on the arm.

“Vernon-” she started, only to be cut off by her husband.

“Boys are boys, they do random stuff,” he said. “So, why are you so interested in what they were doing today?”

“We’re not so interested in what they were but more why you didn’t know about it.” Scott said.

“We’ve received several calls from concerned neighbours about you, regarding the neglect of your nephew, on more than one occasion. It appears there is a reason to be concerned,” Corrigan continued.

“I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Social Services soon,” Scott told them. Something crackled on the radio and he went to the car to answer it.

“Seeing as there is no violence or current endangerment to Harry Potter, we won’t be doing anything tonight,” Corrigan told them.

The officers left shortly after that, Vernon a purple, seething rage monster on the front lawn, Petunia fretting about him and Dudley scowling at Harry, silently vowing revenge. Harry turned to Blaise, too stunned to comment.

“This,” Blaise gestured to his irate family members, “was not my fault.”

Chapter Text

Once the Constables had left, the Dursely’s, Harry and Blaise had gone back into the house, the latter two laden down with bags which they placed on the staircase once they were close enough without annoying the already irritated Dursley’s.

Vernon was furious. His face was turning as purple as a plum and his lips were barely visible they were pressed so tightly together. He was practically growling and his eyes were narrowed with his fists clenched hard enough that his knuckles were white.

Harry just wanted to duck past the brute of a man, slip away to his room and hide out the storm. Which was laughable – he was the Boy Who Lived – but he was so afraid of his own muggle uncle that he was ready to hide. That was hero material. However, he could do nothing of the sort as, once they had all re-entered the house, Vernon whirled around and focused his entire fury on the Potter.

“This is your fault.” Vernon said, practically hissed out between gritted teeth. He was like a chubbier and stupider version of Voldemort that Harry choked back a laugh. “We took in a freak like you, fed you, clothed you, put up with your weirdness and look what we get out of it! Our neighbours complain about how we treat you! You should just be grateful we even took you in! We should have just dumped you at a Church, or a hospital or even a bloody river!”

Harry cringed back away from his uncle. Vernon was basically shouting into his ear by the end of his rant and, in his anger, he spat as he spoke. The Potter waited for his uncle’s next move, whether Vernon would continue with his verbal abuse or if he would escalate to physical violence.

“Excuse me.” A smooth voice cut in casually. Harry blinked, he had forgotten about Blaise. He had forgotten about the Slytherin he was harbouring. Oh Merlin, that Slytherin had also just witnessed the Dursley’s abuse. He doubted this would end well and found himself back to wondering how to prevent a fight between a wizard and a brute of a man, like he had debated in the mall. Wincing, Harry turned to his companion to, well, he had no idea how he was going to prevent Blaise from doing something that would probably make the both of them very satisfied.

Blaise did not look impressed, he had both eyebrows narrowed, and his eyes locked onto Vernon’s icily. “Are you implying that it is Harry’s fault that your neighbours are concerned about your behaviour?” he drawled, looking the aristocrat that he was.

Vernon spluttered, still half angry but now also half bemused. Blaise must have startled him, at least partly, out of his anger. Harry wasn’t surprised, even he had forgotten that Blaise was there and Blaise, when he wanted to, could apparently have a very imposing presence, despite only being fifteen years old. He wondered how Blaise managed that, and if he could teach him it. Maybe he could use it against Malfoy, Harry could imagine the look on his face…

He quickly shook himself out of his train of thought and returned to the scene in front of him. It appeared that Blaise was ready to give Vernon a very verbal dressing down right there in Vernon’s own home.

“Well… that is…” Petunia said from where she stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Dudley was next to her, half of his bulk hidden behind his mother as though he could project a more imposing figure. Fat chance, Harry mentally snorted to himself.

“Well? Is there truth to what the Constables had said?” Blaise said as though Petunia had not spoken at all. He was ignoring her entirely and Vernon visibly bristled at that but it was Dudley who acted.

“Don’t you ignore my mom!” he said, shoving past Harry to get into the Italian’s face. Blaise merely smirked in response, not at all bothered by the angry giant.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Blaise taunted.

Dudley reared back a fist in response but found himself on the floor with a bloody nose. There was an immediate shocked silence as everyone took in the scene. Dudley looked shocked and horrified, blubbering as blood dribbled down his face. Petunia broke it first with a shrill cry as she rushed to her son’s side.

Vernon lurched forward at his wife’s cry, towering over both Harry and Blaise. He grabbed a fistful of Blaise’s shirt, shoving him roughly into the wall. His elbow was pushed against the boy’s throat. Harry snapped and tried to push his uncle away from Blaise, only for Vernon to backhand him across the face. The blow sent him stumbling back into the hallway table which broke under his weight. Harry landed on top of it, wood splintering and digging into his skin. His glasses went flying and blood filled his mouth from where he had bitten his lip in the fall.

Vernon sneered down at him, “now look at what you’ve done boy.” He still had Blaise pinned uncomfortably against the wall and Harry wondered why Blaise wasn’t doing anything to stop Vernon. Blaise seemed too prideful to allow something like this to happen. But then, there was a law against minors using magic outside of school. Even though Vernon was aware of magic since he was related to a wizard, the Ministry might not take too kindly to Blaise using magic (especially since it involved the Boy Who Lived). Imagine the scandal! It would be in the headlines, which is the kind of attention Blaise had been trying to avoid in the first place.

Harry was hit with the sick realization of what could happen to Blaise, to himself, to the Dursley’s and their neighbours, if Voldemort were to find out that a Zabini was – for the most part – declaring himself an enemy of the Dark Lord. Allied with a Potter – that couldn’t end well. He swallowed thickly and scrambled to push himself off of the broken table, ready to intervene. Maybe if he cast the magic, they could keep Blaise hidden so no one would know that Zabini was staying with him.

“You’re the one who hit him!” Blaise was saying, sounding angry. Harry had never – in the few days he had really known him – heard Blaise sound anything but calm, amused or sarcastic, so he was quick to reach out to the other boy, still trying to step around the broken pieces of wood without slipping.

“Blaise…” Harry was cut off when the front door opened and in stepped both Constables Scott and Corrigan.

Harry stared, openmouthed as the two officers cast unimpressed glances around the room. He couldn’t blame them; he imagined the scene that they had stepped into. Blaise was pinned against the wall by an angry Vernon. Dudley was on the floor, face and shirt covered in blood with Petunia fluttering beside him, her hands bloodied. And himself, with his face and arms covered in cuts and his clothes ripped from the splintered wood, his cheek beginning to bruise while standing next to a broken table. Yes, he could clearly picture what they were thinking.

Constable Scott sighed heavily, pinched the bridge of his nose before looking Vernon straight in the eye. Vernon released Blaise and stepped away, turning to the officers. Blaise winced and rolled his shoulder, a hand going to rub at the back of his head.

“These boys attacked my family!” Vernon gestured wildly at both Harry and Blaise.

“They attacked shortly after we questioned you?” Constable Corrigan asked.

“Yes! As soon as we got into the house, they panicked and came after us!” Vernon said. Harry and Blaise exchanged glances. Vernon wasn’t getting the sympathetic audience he was trying for as both of the Constables didn’t look too assured.

“Mr. Dursley, shortly after we left the first time, we received another call about you shouting at them.” Constable Corrigan said.

“Obviously we’re going to need to take statements and talk to Social Services now.” Constable Scott said. “We’ll be taking you and your wife in, the boys will come too. They’ll need to speak with counselers.” His voice was formal and dull, as though he recited this particular speech many times. Harry hoped he didn’t. How many children were abused or neglected by their guardians?

“W-wait!” Harry protested. “No one’s being abused or anything!”

Constable Scott frowned, “your uncle had your friend shoved against the wall, his son has a broken nose and you fell onto a table.”

Harry blinked, unsure of what to say to dissuade the officers from taking this any further. If he could show that there was no intended violence in the household, maybe they would leave? He didn’t have time for problems like this, he’d managed eleven years of constant abuse without friends who cared about him! He could manage the few more years before he was of age. Especially if he could get his dad back, which he couldn’t do if he was taken away somewhere without access to Blaise or the magical world. At least until the school year began.

“Actually, the broken nose thing was me.” Blaise said. He didn’t look too concerned about this admission. Harry sighed, so much for the no violence thing. Thankfully, the Dursley’s appeared to be too shocked to actually say or do anything to make it even worse. Or too mad, in Vernon’s case – Harry idly wondered if a person’s face was supposed to be that purple.

Constable Corrigan looked amused. “You’re all still going to have to come in.” He shrugged apologetically.

Which was how they ended up seated in a waiting room… to be questioned about the apparent neglect and abuse that Harry had suffered at the hands of the Dursley’s.

------

Early the next morning found both Harry and Blaise seated in small, empty waiting room of a Social Services building.

“You know, if I had known this is what your summer would be like, I would have held off for another month or two.” Blaise said, absently flipping through a magazine.

“But then you would have missed out on all this drama.” Harry said, scowling. He waved a vague hand around the room, which was empty aside from them. Dudley had been taken to get his nose looked at and Petunia and Vernon had been taken to be interrogated. Vernon had looked absolutely furious and Harry was a little nervous about what would happen if this all blew over without a fuss. Vernon would really make him regret this all.

“Have you called your mother yet?” Harry asked his companion. Blaise sighed and lowered the magazine. It had been one of the promises they had made when the Constables had left them here. Blaise had to call his parents and let them know what was going on.

“Yes. My mother is aware. She’s going to call Social Services and convince them that I am under supervision.” Blaise said. His tone of voice implied that he was not impressed with what was going on.

“You’re only fifteen, you do need supervision in the eyes of the law.” Harry said in return.

“I am a Lord, not some little brat that needs to be looked after.” Blaise scoffed.

Before Harry could reply, a woman with brown hair and eyes walked into the room carrying a briefcase.

“Is one of you Harrigan Potter?” she asked, glancing down at a sheaf of paper she held.

“I am.” Harry said. “And it’s Harry.”

“Well Harry, I am Doctor Amelia Stone.” She said, holding out a hand. Harry stood and shook it.

“It’s a pleasure.” Harry said politely. Doctor Stone nodded in return.

“Likewise.” She said. “If you could please follow me, we will begin your session. Your friend will have to stay out here.” She added the last bit with a quick glance to Blaise. He just raised an eyebrow in return and deliberately flipped a page in the magazine he was holding.

Harry sighed – why did that seem so common now that he hung out with the Italian? – and followed the doctor into an ajoining room. Doctor Stone closed the door behind them.

---------------------

Blaise sighed absentmindedly as he flipped idly through the same magazine for the fifth time. It was utterly dull, blathering on about muggle fashion sense and the idiocy of men and women in their search for the ultimate sexual experience. He had no interest in the material but it was at least interesting to look at the pictures while he was waiting. Waiting. He had been waiting for only about twenty minutes and he was already bored.

He looked up from his magazine when the door from the hall opened and in stepped Constable Scott and another man. The man was tall, wiry with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a black tailored suit and a dark blue tie. In one hand he was carrying a leather briefcase while the other held a folder of papers.

Constable Scott pointed to him. “This’ Blaise Zabini, he’s a friend of Harry that was staying over at the time.”

The man nodded and looked around. “Where’s Harry?” He asked. He had a crisp, smooth English accent. Constable Scott looked thoughtful so Blaise sighed.

“In there.” He nodded towards the other door. “With Doctor Stone.”

Constable Scott nodded and the other man looked satisfied.

“All right, I have to go so I’ll leave you here then.” Constable Scott said, shaking hands with the other man before taking his leave.

The man sighed, rushing a hand through his hair and ruffling it wildly. He dropped his briefcase onto an empty chair and shook his head before turning to Blaise.

“Lord Zabini?” He said, holding his hand out. “I am Christian Lucas Williams, the Potter family advisor.”

Blaise immediately stood, discarded the magazine and shook the man’s hand. “A pleasure, Mr. Williams.”

Williams smiled. “The pleasure is all mine. I hear it’s because of you that things are in motion.”

“I’m not too sure about that.” Blaise said.

“We’ll see.” Williams said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to collect my client.”

“I’ll be waiting out here.” Blaise said, his tone serious and he returned to his seat. Williams nodded solemnly.

“Understood.” He said quietly before knocking on the office door.

Within a few minutes, Williams, Harry and Doctor Stone exited the office. Doctor Stone placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off immediately. He quickly strode over to Blaise, not looking in the direction of the doctor. Harry was simmering quietly, lips pressed into a frown, eyes narrowed, hands and jaw clenched. His face was a little red and he was visibly tense at the shoulders. Blaise raised an eyebrow, glancing between the Potter and the doctor that was currently speaking with Williams.

“Problem?” He asked, placing the magazine he had been reading back onto the table. He stood, casually brushing lint off of his clothing. Harry breathed out slowly but said nothing.

“Boys,” Williams said coming over, “are you ready to go?” Harry nodded and walked to the door without glancing at Doctor Stone. She smiled tightly and nodded at Blaise, shaking hands with Williams.

“Thank you for your assistance.” She said through clenched teeth. Blaise’s eyebrow rose a little higher. Harry was already out the door by the time Doctor Stone retreated back to her office and Blaise followed Williams out.

Harry was waiting outside, pacing back and forth. Blaise stopped next to him and grabbed his shoulder.

“Harry?” He asked. Harry spun to him.

“She is one of the worst doctors I have ever spoken to! That arrogant, assuming broad! I am not defenseless nor am I allowing any abuse…” Harry ranted. Williams cut him off by clearing his throat.

“While I agree with your assessment, Mr. Potter, it would perhaps be more productive to do so in the car?” Williams said, tilting his head as a car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Harry blinked, startled out of his rant. He glanced uncertainly to Blaise and Williams’ lips twitched slightly in amusement.

Blaise shrugged. “It’s up to you.” He said, “he’s your advisor.”

“Where would we be going?” Harry asked suspiciously. Williams smiled.

“The Potter Manor in Scotland. I was informed by Gringotts that they sent important documents to the manor at the request of your temporary advisor.” Williams explained. “And it would be the best place to go to explain your family history to you. It’s where James grew up, after all.”

Harry hesitated then nodded. “Okay.” He glanced at Blaise again, who nodded in return. They started towards the car and when they were close, the back door opened for them. They exchanged glances and Harry noticed that Blaise had his hand in his pocket, where he kept his wand. Harry did the same with his own before entering the car. There was no one else but the driver in the car and Williams slid into the front passenger seat.

“Scotland Manor.” Williams said and the driver nodded, pulling out onto the street.

“This is Garen McLocke. He’ll get us safely and quickly to Potter Manor.” Williams introduced. Blaise and Harry said their hellos quietly, watching the adults cautiously. The car suddenly sped forward and Harry lurched back into his seat.

“What is this?” Harry asked, panicking. Blaise sighed, casual despite the racing car.

“Haven’t you been on the Knight Bus? It’s the same thing.” Blaise said, and Williams nodded from the front.

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “We’ll be at the manor momentarily.” The car came to a complete stop in front a tall, gothic designed gate. Slowly, the gate opened and McLocke drove them up the driveway, pausing at the entrance to the extravagant mansion that lay before them.

“Woah…” Harry said. “This is my family home?” Nobody said anything in response and Harry focused on soaking in the sight, taking in every detail of the house that he could see. After awhile of no one doing anything, Harry cleared his throat.

“So…” he said, awkwardly looking between Blaise and Williams. “What now?”

“Unfortunately, I have a few things to take care of, so I will not be joining you at the manor for today.” Williams told them, looking apologetic. “I’m sure Clarie will be happy to show you around.” With that said, the passenger door opened on its own and Blaise stepped out, pulling Harry along with him.

“I’ll see the two of you later.” Williams said before the car drove off down the road and disappeared from sight.

“Uh, thanks for the ride!” Harry called belatedly. “Do you think they heard me?”

Blaise scoffed and pushed him towards the door. “Come on Harry.” He said, stopping a few feet away. “This is Potter Manor of Scotland, one of the finest estates in all of the United Kingdom and home to a wide variety of magical and non-magical entities.”

“You sound like a real estate agent.” Harry said in return, gazing at the Potter crest that adorned the door. He stepped closer and startled when the door began to open on its own.

“A what?” Blaise asked, before shaking his head. “Oh look, your house is welcoming you home.” Harry glanced at him.

“No, it’s just recognising you as a member of the family, it’s not sentient.” Blaise said to the unasked question.

“So, this place is a sanctuary?” Harry asked, peeking through the door curiously.

“Yes,” Blaise said, “any kind of magical and non-magical entities, rare animals, and even some witches and wizards that were disowned from the magical community, can request sanctuary here as long as they conform to a few rules.”

“Rules?” Harry asked, and Blaise shrugged.

“Such things like no acts of violence, no illegal use of magic and so on.” Blaise said.

“Oh, well that makes sense, I guess.” Harry said, reaching to knock on the door. Blaise looked at him in amusement.

“You don’t need to knock, Harry, you are a Potter after all.” Blaise told him. Before Harry could reply, a small figure appeared in the open doorway.

“Master Harrigan! You’re here!” A squeaky feminine voice called. There was a blur before something small collided with Harry’s legs.

“Uh… hi?’ Harry said tentatively, sending a glare Blaise’s way as the other boy chuckled.

“Oh! I am sorry, you do not remember me! You were only a babe when I last saw you.” The blur, a female house elf wearing a fine navy blue cloak of sorts embroidered with the Potter crest, stepped back and smiled up at Harry. She bowed, “I am Clarie, Master Harrigan.”

Harry blinked, “it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” He said, giving a slight bow to the house elf, before offering his hand. Clarie shook it gently, a small smile adorning her face.

Harry gestured to his companion, “this is a good friend of mine, Blaise.”

Blaise smiled slightly and also gave a small bow. “A pleasure, Miss Clarie.”
Clarie’s eyes widened before abruptly bowing. “The pleasure is mine, Master Harrigan, Lord Zabini! I am so happy that you have come.” She gestured to them, “come in! come in out of the cold!”

Clarie closed the door behind the two boys and took their coats, hanging them in a nearby closet. “The dragons have not eaten yet, so it is best not to linger in the courtyard until their bellies are full.”

“Dragons?” Harry asked incredulously, stopping in what looked to be a living room, with multiple couches, a coffee table and a large fireplace that was roaring with light in the background.

His mind flashed back to the dragons he had met. The baby Norbert who burned off Hagrid’s beard and was the size of a cat. The adult dragons from the Triwizard Tournament and especially the one that had chased him all around Hogwarts grounds, intent on killing him. He shuddered and quickly attempted to hide it. From Blaise’s expression, he was not quick enough.

“Friendly dragons.” Blaise stressed, “they’re here for a sanctuary, not to eat the occassional wizard that pops by. I believe Miss Clarie merely means that they will be a little on the grumpy side until they’ve eaten.”

Clarie nodded vigorously. “Yes! Lord Zabini is correct. I am sorry to have misled you.” She looked so apologetic that Harry rushed to assure her, not wanting a repeat of Dobby.

“It’s alright, I’ve just had some… bad encounters with dragons before.” Harry said. Clarie looked appeased so Harry decided to drop the subect for a later time. “So this is where my dad grew up?”

“Yes, Master Harrigan, but this is your home as well.” Clarie said, looking anxious. “I will have some tea and biscuits prepared. Please make yourselves at home.” With that, she disappeared with a small tuft of smoke. Harry looked surprised and uncertain at her sudden exit.

Blaise chuckled, “she’s very happy you’re here, Harry.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked uncertainly. Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Yes, that is why she left you and your guest alone and went to get treats. She wants you to have a chance to acquaint yourself with the house and to feel welcome and comfortable.” Blaise said patiently.

“Oh.” Harry said. “Why are you being called Lord Zabini?”

Blaise blinked at the sudden change in topic, “you know about my mother, correct?”

Harry nodded. He had been told multiple times by multiple people about Blaise’s mother. She was nicknamed the “Black Widow” as she seemed to have a habit of marrying rich men who would then meet an unfortunate end, leaving her with all their money and inheritance. That was just about all that was known about the Zabini family, aside from the fact that they were known for staying out of the war and remaining neutral.

“Well, because she was married into the Zabini family and has been married into several others, she cannot uphold the name of Lady Zabini in a political manner. Also, since I am the oldest blood-Zabini alive, and am over the age of thirteen, I am Lord of the House.” Blaise said.

“Here you are, sirs!” Clarie exclaimed as she popped up next to them. Harry flinched and was annoyed to note that Blaise did not. Blaise smirked at him in return but Clarie looked apologetic.

“I am sorry, Master Harrigan, the next time I will announce my presence first.” The house elf said guiltily. Harry just waved a hand as though physically dismissing the apology.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Clarie.” He said with a smile. “I can get used to it.”

Clarie practically glowed as she lowered a platter of sweets and tea onto the coffee table. Once Harry and Blaise had seated themselves, she vanished again with a bow.

Blaise laughed, “you just made her day, Harry.”

Harry paused as he fixed his tea. “What do you mean? Because I came here?”

“Well that too, but I meant more that you said you’d get used to her, which implies that you’re going to stick around.” Blaise said.

Harry looked affronted, “why wouldn’t I? This is my home, isn’t it?”

“Of course, but Miss Clarie didn’t know if you were merely visiting or actually staying. She’s probably setting up your room right now.” Blaise said, stirring his tea and taking a sip. He hummed and relaxed back into his seat. Harry looked amused.

“Are you going to stay?” He asked suddenly, and watched as Blaise paused. “I- I mean… you don’t have to but you wanted to hide away from Voldemort, right?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to.” Blaise said, lowering his cup of tea.

“You’re quite welcome, that’s why this whole thing started in the first place.” Harry said with a grin. He was internally relieved that Blaise had not decided to back out on him after the mess with the Dursley’s and the sudden entrance and exit of the Potter family advisor Williams. “Besides, you still need to teach me more about the wizarding world.”

“True.” Blaise agreed, “you still have much to learn.”

“I’m a padawan now?” Harry grinned at Blaise’s confused expression. “I may not know much about wizards but you don’t know much about muggles.”

“I do too!” Blaise protested, “I have a cellphone, I wear muggle clothes, I travel in taxis and use muggle money.”

”Well… you’re better than Ron.” Harry teased.

“Why are you always comparing me with Gryffindorks?” Blaise asked in exasperation.

Clarie appeared abruptly next to the table. “Is it to your liking, sirs?”

“Delicious.” Harry said immediately. “Thank you, Miss Clarie.”

“Very good.” Blaise agreed, taking another sip of his tea.

Clarie looked pleased. “Thank you,” she said, “you may call me Clarie, if the masters would like.”

“Only if you call me Harry and him Blaise.” Harry countered. Clarie bowed.

“Of course Master Harry, Master Blaise.” Clarie responded, “your rooms have been prepared.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Harry protested but Clarie just smiled pleasantly.

“The documents that you requested from Gringotts have arrived.” She informed them, holding out a folder of loose parchment and a small leather bound book. Harry took it, feeling hesitant. He remembered what Blaise and Blackknot had discussed. It was possible that his father was alive, not dead but missing. Was it a mistake by Gringotts? A misprint? Or could it be true? The answer may be resting in his hands at this very moment.

He took a long, shaky breath. Clarie and Blaise said nothing, Clarie turning to refill Harry’s cup of tea and Blaise munching quietly on a bisquit. Harry forced himself to open the book, attempting to squash any beginnings of hope that were welling inside of him. He stared blankly at the first page, with its small, neat handwriting, and abruptly handed the book over to Blaise. “I can’t…”

Blaise nodded in understanding, taking the book and casually flipping it open to the first page. Clarie hung around in concern at the apprehension her young master exhibited.

The Zabini heir frowned, scanning the pages intently and then reread several of them. Finally, he settled back, closed the book and looked tired and dazed.

“Well?” Harry asked anxiously, breaking the silence that had descended on them.

“From what is here, it’s quite possible that your father is still alive.” Blaise said finally. Clarie’s eyes widened, taking in a sharp breath and Harry looked awed.

“Really?” He asked disbelievingly. His voice was barely above a whisper, so hesitant and dazed, trying to take in the information he had just received.

“It’s not for certain.” Blaise said, “I mean… according to these documents, he’s neither dead or alive but in some sort of limbo, in a realm in between life and death, but that’s never been proven before so…” He trailed off. Harry noted that he looked strained and his voice was hesitant. He probably didn’t want to get Harry’s hopes up by telling something false but at the same time, giving him something to go on.

“Okay, that’s something.” Harry said quietly. “If… if it is true, is there a way to get him back?”

Blaise looked at him. “Maybe. If we can track down his soul and his body, then… maybe.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Blaise. I know this isn’t what you expected when you came to me for help, but I really appreciate it.” He said, looking to his companion with gratitude.

Blaise shrugged, “I had nothing else to do with my summer.” He said casually, teasingly and Harry laughed. “You should have Mr. Williams look this over as well.” He continued.

“I will.” Harry promised. “I trust your judgment but this’ what he was trained for, right?”

“Right.” Blaise agreed. “We should probably go to your father’s grave too. If we can find a spell to check, we might get some more answers.”

“I’ll leave finding the spell to you,” Harry said, shrugging. “I would have no idea where to look.” Blaise smirked at him, looking amused. He took another sip of his tea and leaned back in his seat comfortably.

Clarie appeared next to them, “would sirs like anything else?”

“We’re fine, thank you Clarie.” Harry said, finishing off his tea.

“Then, would sirs like to explore the grounds? The dragons have eaten, the fauna are asleep and the birds are settled. There is little chance of any accidental trauma.” Clarie told them.

Harry paused, “’accidental trauma’?”

“Yes, Master Harry. There have been incidences of maiming, death and other sorts of conditions due to irritable sanctuary members and ignorance of visitors.” Clarie said, “any more bisquits, sirs?”

“Uh, no thanks, Clarie.” Harry said, dazed. Across from him, Blaise was smirking at him from behind his tea cup and Harry glared at him. “Be quiet, Zabini.”

“Ooh, back to last names, are we?” Blaise chuckled, setting down his now empty tea cup. He stood, “shall we follow through with Miss Clarie’s suggestion and check out the grounds?”

Harry stood as well, “okay.”

--------

When Harry first stepped out a backdoor of the magnificent family mansion, he came to such an abrupt stop that Blaise almost walked into him. Luckily, Blaise was quick to come to a halt before he collided and sent them both tumbling down the path.

From the doorway, Harry overlooked a well used gravel path that led through a thick forest of tall and overwhelming trees of all sizes and colours. There were several kinds of bushes and flowers settled comfortably amongst these trees that were clearly properly tended to and the pathway was kept clear of debris.

Behind him, Blaise let out a small huff and gave him a slight shove in the shoulder.

“If you would exit the house, then maybe you could inspect the flowers up close?” Blaise suggested, his tone holding a miniscule layer of mockery.

Harry frowned but did so, stepping out of the building and into the open, fresh air scented with the blooming florel. As he walked down the path, he gazed in open wonderment at the assortment of creatures that slipped through the trees, silently stalking the humans as they ventured further from the house and further into the sanctuary’s domain.

The path opened up to a large meadow with tall brazen grass and a decent sized lake. With the sun shining down on them, the nature was serene and beautiful in a way that Harry had never seen outside of Hogwarts. Even the very air seemed to hold a mystic presence that both unnerved and enticed the young Potter.

Blaise whistled lowly in appreciation, looking impressed (which said a lot, Harry believed, since the Zabini only seemed to portray small amounts of emotion at a time, and they were typically not as positive).

“This is far more than I had been expecting.” Blaise said.

“And just what were you expecting?” Harry asked, “a kennel?”

“No,” Blaise frowned at him, “though I was expecting the creatures to have less freedom of privacy. There are many places for all sorts of creatures to live in private.”

“Oh.” Harry said, turning to peer closer at the lake. “How deep is that?”

“If you’re thinking of swimming in there, I wouldn’t recommend it.” Blaise said, a slight smirk adorning his face.

“No, I was just curious.” Harry said, looking affronted, then he blinked. “Why?”

“Selkie apparently live there.” Blaise said, pointing to a sign that was perched near the waters edge. It read: ‘Lake Messina - Home of the Scylla Clan; no admittance without permission of a Master’.

Harry blushed, even with his new glasses, he had not noticed the sign. So much for those observant skills of his; he was growing too lax apparently.

“Moving on.” Blaise said, gesturing to the path that continued to trail through the tall grass, around the outer rim of the lake all the way to a large rock formation that gathered at the bottom of a great hill. Harry walked down the path, followed by Blaise.

They were silent, casually observing their surroundings. Harry’s eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of greyish skin, yellow eyes and broken teeth peering up at him from below the surface of the water. The putrid eyes blinked up at him, twice, before the creature seemed to sink back into the dark depths of the lake. Harry breathed slowly, relaxing as it vanished and banished the images of the merpeople from the lake at Hogwarts from his mind – no more thinking of the tournament, he was determined to keep away any further analysis of his actions and Cedric’s death.

When they reached the rocks, Harry’s eyes immediately spotted the intricate carvings lining a doorway built into the stone.

“Runes.”Blaise said, “probably to safeguard the creatures inside from whatever may want to harm them.”

Harry nodded and passed through the doorway with ease, stepping into a long tunnel lightened only by small balls of blue fire that floated near the ceiling.

“This is ancient magic.” Blaise observed. “These kinds of flames are extremely difficult and dangerous to create but are easy to maintain. If they’re made wrong, you’re more likely to burn yourself alive.”

Harry winced and continued walking with the Slytherin behind him. The tunnel was so small that only one person could walk through at a time, so they filed into a single lane to get through.

The exit was bright and Harry had to wait several seconds for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, his eyes widened. There before them must have been about twenty dragons, some as large as the ones he had seen in the Triwizard Tournament and others as small as his head. They were of different colours and styles and all Harry could do was stand there and stare in awe at the magnificent creatures. It was only when one of the larger ones, a deep charcoal grey dragon with three horns on its head, two on its forehead ridges on either side and one perched on its nose, and seemingly glowing ice blue eyes noticed them and stomped (stomped as in Harry and Blaise had to hold onto the rock face to keep from falling over) towards them, that he was knocked out of his awe. Steam was huffed from its large nostrils and Harry felt even more nervous than he had in the tournament. At least in the tournament, he had a way out, he had his broom and the confidence that he could outfly the natural flying predator. But now, all he had was a wand that he shouldn’t use unless he wanted to give the Ministry and the papers more ammunition against him.

The dragon lumbered over to them and stopped, looming over the humans. It was about the size of a large commercial airplane, though its wings were currently folded against its back. With an icy gaze, the dragon watched them, breathing in deep enough that it rustled the humans’ clothes and hair.

Harry glanced to his companion and saw that Blaise was watching the dragon in turn, with a contemplative look on his face. But no fear, anxiety or anger, only mere curiousity. He, himself, found that he was taking the dragon in, noting the thick scars that adorned the creatures left front leg and streaked across its left folded wing, disappearing down its side.

After a few moments, the dragon let out a large huff (that nearly toppled them over) and, apparently bored with them, trudged away, pushing past a few dozing dragons (which growled but did nothing else) and spanned its wings out to their full distance. With a few deep strokes, the dragon was in the air, sending a mini storm of dust and debris over the other dragons and the humans.

Harry coughed and took off his glasses, futiley attempting to clean them. Next to him, Blaise was frowning down at his dusty clothing and making a poor attempt at brushing it off. Harry had the feeling that Blaise would be changing his attire as soon as they entered the mansion.

With the large dragon gone (and their heartrates having slowed back to normal), it was mutually decided, in a silent discussion (lest they disturb the other dragons) to turn back and check in with Clarie. They had no interruptions for their walk back, though Harry caught a glimpse of a large object diving through the clouds above their heads (that may or may not have coincided with his sped up pace).

“Just in time, young sirs!” Clarie said once they stepped back inside the house. She frowned at their appearance and, with a snap of her fingers, both boys were dust free. Blaise, amusingly enough, looked immensely relieved.

“Thank you.” Blaise said with such effect that Clarie blushed. She coughed and fidgeted before bowing abruptly.

“Th-thank you, Master Blaise.” She said. Harry watched her in amusement. “Oh, I must tell you that Mr. Williams has arrived and is awaiting your arrival in the meeting room.”

“Williams?” Harry repeated. “That’s my advisor right?”

Blaise nodded, “yes. He must have finished whatever other business he had, early.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded and started walking before, once again, he came to an abrupt stop. “Uh, where’s the meeting room?”

To his dismay, both Blaise and Clarie snickered, though Clarie did her best to keep hers hidden. “You guys are so mean.”

To his own mortification, the last word was sounded out into a whine that actually had Blaise chuckling and Clarie fiddling with her uniform, her head down so her face was hidden. “I should just stop talking.” Harry muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. He paused, however, when he noticed Clarie gazing at him sternly.

“Is there something wrong, Miss. Clarie?” Blaise asked curiously.

“You are most like your father, Master Harry!” The house elf said exuberantly. “I will find the spell to fix your hair once you have finished with your guest.”

“Fix my hair?” Harry asked, hands automatically going up to touch his hair. He felt faintly alarmed and now eyed the house elf warily. She had a certain gleam in her eye that reminded him of Hermione when she thought of something she believed to be genius and “convinced” Harry and Ron to go along with it.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise’s very annoying eyebrow raising to his hairline as he regarded the two with amusement.

Straightening, Harry cleared his throat, casting a glare in Blaise’s direction (which the Slytherin just brushed off casually). “Clarie, if you would please direct us to the meeting room?”

Just like that, the gleam was gone as her eyes widened and she bowed deeply. “Of course, Master Harry. Right this way.”

With that said, Harry and Blaise followed the house elf through the lengthy, twisting hallways (that all looked the exact same – really, it was no wonder he hadn’t figured out how to get around yet, it was almost worse than Hogwarts).

--------------------

“Mr. Potter.” The man greeted with a small but sincere smile. He shook Harry’s hand in a strong grip. “First, I must apologize for my earlier abrupt behaviour. It was unacceptable.”

“It’s fine.” Harry dismissed. “I understand that you had taken time out of a busy day to help us. So, thank you for getting us here.”

“Well, you’re quite welcome, Mr. Potter.” Williams said.

“Harry,please.” Harry said in return. “This is Blaise Zabini, he’s been acting as my, uh, temporary advisor.”

Blaise stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Williams.”

Williams smiled slightly. “Once again, I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, Lord Zabini.” Blaise nodded solemnly but Harry frowned.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

“I think Mr.Williams has been unable to get into contact with you before my interference.” Blaise said.

“That’s right.” Williams agreed. “Since the death of your parents, I have been disallowed direct contact with you on my terms.”

“Why?” Harry asked in confusion.

“It was decided that, for your own protection, you would not have any knowledge of the wizarding world until the age of eleven and that you would not have any interaction with family responsibilities until you are legally an adult, unless you were the one to initiate the contact.” Williams explained.

“Which I would not have done without Blaise’s interference.” Harry said, with dawning annoyance.

“I didn’t do much.” Blaise argued. “All I did was ask you a few questions.”

“And took me to Diagon Alley, acted as my temporary advisor and began teaching me about wizarding norms and my family history.” Harry countered.

Williams chuckled, “sounds like you’ve done a lot, Lord Zabini.” Blaise shrugged but did not verbally respond.

Harry wondered where he would be right now if Blaise hadn’t shown up. Probably stuck with his relatives doing chores and being looked down on. His anger would be building up at the lack of contact from his wizarding friends and being trapped in the house being treated like a servant or prisoner instead of enjoying a nice summer free of dark lords, meddling classmates, obsessive fans, dreadful teachers and the ridiculous Ministry.

Breaking out of his thoughts, he gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat.” Harry was almost glad now that aunt Petunia had made him wait on their guests. Who knew those “polite” skills would ever come in handy?

“Thank you,” Williams said, seating himself. Clarie appeared with bisquits, which she set on the table. Harry and Blaise sat across from Williams on the other sofa.

“I’d like to inform you that I have sorted everything out with social services and spoken to your muggle… family members. They are aware that you will not be returning for an unknown amount of time and are to allow you entry to retrieve your things at your convenience.” He said but before Harry could respond with more than a nod, the man continued.

“Down to business then.” Williams started. “I was told that you had requested documents regarding your father?”

Harry hesitated and glanced at Blaise, whom nodded. He held out the documents to the man. “My dad might not be dead.” He said bluntly.

Williams paused for a moment before he took the documents, regarding both boys with a serious, piercing gaze. “Is that so? How interesting…” He began to flip through the material before him and Harry was relieved that he had taken them seriously enough to actually read through the documents. As he read, Williams’ expression grew tighter, a frown beginning to deepen on his lips. Then, he lowered the documents and raised his head to look at the two teenagers.

“From a cursory glance, I would have to say that you are right. James Potter isn’t dead.” He said slowly, sounding both dazed and amused. “Of course James would overcome death.” He said under his breath, “he’s like a cat with nine lives.”

Blaise and Harry exchanged bemused glances as Williams finally came back to his senses.

“My apologies. It’s just… your father seems to have the uh… ability of coming out of situations that no one should rightfully come out of at all.” Williams explained to them. He cleared his throat.

“Now, according to these documents,” Williams said, getting back on track. “Your father never actually died.”

“You both have said that before, but what does it mean?” Harry asked. “If my dad isn’t dead, then where has he been? Where is he now? And how do you know that Gringotts hasn’t made a mistake?”

As much as he hated to ask, he didn’t want to get his hopes to high up, only for his father – a possible, living relative that didn’t hate him on principle – to actually still be dead. Harry wasn’t sure if he could handle that, especially so soon after Cedric’s death. His longing for a family was part of what drove him, kept him apart from Voldemort – from becoming another Dark Lord – he still loved and hoped. He still believed in the world, still believed in the people around him, despite harsh life experiences that gave him reason – a screaming in your face reason – to do otherwise. The anguish of a father being just out of reach was like the offer Voldemort had made him in his first year. His parents so close and yet still so far from his grasp. Harry had another – crushing – hope of at least one parent returning to him and he had no idea what to do with it.

Williams was looking at him sympathetically, as though he understood what Harry was going through – but how could he? How could anyone understand his life and the continued hope they keep dangling in front of him just out of reach? Harry could feel a bottled anger bubbling up inside of him and he looked away. His eyes locked onto Blaise’s and he realised that he saw no sympathy or pity, but a cool understanding.

Blaise arched that – ridiculously annoying – eyebrow at him, watching him with an expectant gaze. Harry could practically hear the ‘hurry up and get over your meltdown so we can move on to more important things’. Oh, he wondered how he had ever managed his life without a sarcastic, cold Slytherin beside him.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked inquiringly at Williams. “Well?”

Williams blinked and then shook his head. “Right.” He said. “Well, first of all, Gringotts does not make mistakes like that. The magic involved in death identification and family lineage is an ancient, intricate spell that cannot be falsified. Prior to sending the relevant documents to survivors, the goblins are required to check for any tampering of the documents themselves. The magic is never wrong.”

He held up a piece of parchment. “This is an information sheet that tells us when the first spell was cast and when the documents had last been checked by a certified employee.” Williams handed it over to Harry, whom looked it over. There was the date of that fateful Halloween when James and Lily Potter were declared dead. Underneath that was the date of when Harry and Blaise had visited the manager, Blackknot. Hary handed the slip over to Blaise, the Slytherin glancing at it before handing it back to the advisor.

“For your next questions.” Williams continued. “That is what we need to figure out. I was a friend of James, I am confident to say the if he were still alive, he would not have stayed away from you, even if others believed that you would be safer without him around.”

“…so my dad is alive, but either doesn’t know about that or me, or can’t do anything about it?” Harry questioned, brows furrowed.

Blaise chuckled. “Pretty much.”

Williams looked amused. “Eloquently put. Essentially, that is a good assumption to make. It is likely that your father is in some sort of limbo, or state of unawareness that is keeping him from you. However, in order to prove or disprove it, we would need to research further. Perhaps some of the more complicated tracking spells…” By the end of his dialogue, Williams had withdrawn to muttering, concentrating on solutions to the problem before them.

Harry and Blaise exchanged amused glances – or rather, Harry looked amused while Blaise looked slightly amused if the twitch of his lips and arch in his brows meant what Harry thought it did, and he was getting pretty good at figuring out what Blaise was feeling just by facial expressions (considering the other boy was least likely to actually say what he was feeling, without sarcasm anyway).

Clarie appeared with a small pop, a small tray ladened with three cups and a tea pot balanced in one hand, and she took in Williams hunched over the documents and muttering to himself. With ease, her attention turned to her more aware company.

“Fresh tea, sirs?”She offered, placing the tray down by the bisquits. Blaise nodded. Harry watched as she fixed Blaise’s tea with efficiency, remembering the young lord’s preference. Once she was done, she handed the cup over to Blaise, whom accepted it and offered her a quiet thank you.

Clarie filled a cup of tea for Harry as well, and set about fixing a cup for Williams, which she placed near his left hand. She then vanished, taking the tray as she left with another soft popping sound. It was not loud enough to startle Williams out of his musings so Harry turned to Blaise.

“What are we supposed to do now?” He wondered. Blaise took a sip of his tea as he considered.

“We could wait for Mr. Williams to finish, explore your estate some more or ask Clarie about how your father’s not-death might have occurred in the first place.” Blaise offered.

Harry stared at him. “Clarie would know?”

“It’s possible.” Blaise shrugged, “Your father grew up here with her and so she may know if what happened to him may have been purposeful.”

“Oh.” Harry said, sipping at his tea. “Then I guess we need to wait for her to return.”

Blaise looked amused and quickly spoke when Harry frowned at him. “You’re her master, Harry. You can just call for her assistance.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “Like slave labour?” He thought of Hermione and how she would react to this concept, how she believed that it was a form of slavery of house elves. However, Blaise shook his head.

“In some other old families, such as the Malfoys and the Blacks, that is true, but the Potter’s pay house elves, offer free room and board and a proper education. Also, house elves are free to leave when they want.” Blaise said and Harry was instantly relieved.

“That’s good to hear.” He said. “So how do I call her?”

“You can call her name, snap your fingers, whatever. She’ll come and you two can discuss communication later.” Blaise said.

Harry hesitated then called. “Clarie?”

A few seconds past before a small pop sounded and Clarie appeared before them. “You called, Master Harry?”

“Uh, yes, hi.” Harry said awkwardly. “We were wondering if, uh, there could be a reason as to why my dad’s alive?”

Clarie stared at him thoughtfully. “There are many possible reasons.” She said omniously. “The library may help you more with your research though.”

“Library?” Harry asked.

“Yes, sir. It is just down this hallway here, and eight doors down.” Clarie gestured down an adjoining hallway.

“Oh, thank you.” Harry said, still slightly confused at Clarie’s response.

“Is that all, sirs?” She asked.

“Yes, that’s it.” Harry responded.

“Then I will leave you to your research.” With that said, Clarie once again popped out of the room.

Blaise stood, setting his empty cup on the table. “Let’s check out the library then.”

Harry nodded, putting his own cup down and standing. Williams was still digging through the documents and appeared to not have heard anything that had been said in the past bit. “Do you think we should leave a note?”

Blaise shook his head. “I’m sure Clarie is keeping an eye out so she’ll let him know if need be.”

“Right.” Harry said, walking down the hallway the house elf had told them to follow. “Research it is.” If only Hermione could see him now.

Chapter Text

The library was vast. Rows and rows of shelving that went further than the naked eye could see. In front of them were two large oak tables with matching chairs. Harry couldn’t even see the end of the room beyond the shelves filled with a wide variety of books in all shapes, sizes and colours.

The wall to his right held large, tall windows that overlooked the sanctuary. The lake glistened in the background. It was a breathtaking sight, and Harry had just been out there, walking that path by the lake, a few mere hours ago. The library was well lit, through the light seeping in through the windows and the wall lamps that gave off a bright orange-ish glow. There were also small lamps on both of the tables, for reading, Harry supposed. That was all that was in the library, and it felt, to him, very different than the Hogwarts library that held sceaming books and scowling librarians. This library was more welcoming and comfortable in a way that the library in Hogwarts could never be (though Hermione might beg to differ).

Harry stepped further in the room, his eyes continuously roaming over the rows in awe. That… was a lot of books. Hermione would be so jealous of him right now if she knew where he was. He could picture her here, seated at one of the tables that was stacked high with books and she, an almost completely hidden figure, devouring books as she went along. And she would not leave the room for days, not until she was satisfied with what she had read, had gained in knowledge… until the next day, that is, where she would be at it again.

The thought drew a small laugh from him and Blaise, whom had followed him in, turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Harry laughed again and shrugged, gesturing around the room.

“Just picturing Hermione here.” He said and Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Gryffindorks.” Blaise muttered under his breath as he walked over to the closest table. Harry chose not to take offense and merely followed the Slytherin.

“So, where do we start?” Harry asked. Blaise ran a hand through his hair.

“Figure out how you’re family organized their collection.” Blaise said. When Harry merely stared, brow furrowed in confusion, he continued. “You know how the Hogwarts library is sorted by section? The Invisibility Section, the Dragon Section, the Reference Section, the Legal Section and, of course, the Restricted Section.”

Harry nodded. “So we need to find out if this library has a similar style or what style it does have, so we can find the books we’re looking for?”

“Exactly.” Blaise said. “Ordinarily, older families such as the Potter’s have an index, so guests can easily find research material. Most family libraries were open to select people because they are so vast and contain so many rare books, the Potter’s were well known for helping apprentices with research by allowing them access to their libraries.” He added when Harry looked a little confused.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Harry said. “Wait, libraries?”

“You really didn’t think that you’re family kept everything at one estate, did you?” Blaise asked, smirking. Before Harry could respond, he investigated the left wall, the wall without windows, and tapped at an odd looking wall ornament.

The ornament looked like something one would see in the Black family household only… lighter. It reminded Harry of a dragon’s head with an open mouth, showing a row of sharp teeth and glistening red jewels in the place of eyes that seemed to hold some kind of power. Harry felt goosebumps rise on his skin as he stared, then, all of a sudden, the feeling vanished and he was back to being warm and comfortable.

“What was that?” He blurted.

“A defense mechanism.” Blaise said. “It scanned us to be certain that we are not intruders and are, in fact, allowed to be here.”

“Really? I didn’t know there was a spell for that…” Harry said.

“It’s like a miniature ward, only it doesn’t keep people out. It alerts the owners, that’d be you, and employees, that’d be Clarie, if there is an intruder while disallowing the person access to the library’s index.” Blaise said. As he spoke, a small orb of light began to form in the dragon’s mouth and Blaise stepped to the side as the light expanded and touched the floor in front of it. The floor rumbled and floorboards began to move, much like the bricks in the stone wall at Diagon Alley, Harry noted, until a square space was free. A podium slowly rose up out of the square until it was at a decent height for humans to use. There was a book that was not very thick, bound in dark leather with the word ‘Index’ embroidered on the cover in a deep gold, laying atop the podium.

Harry reached forward and flipped the book open to the first page. Written in calligraphical form were the words ‘The Potter Scotland Manor Collections Index’, and that was it. Harry turned the page. It was blank, so he flipped to the next, which was also blank. He sped through a large amount of pages but they were all blank. With a rising confusion and annoyance, he turned to his companion… who was holding out a fountain pen to him. It was then that Harry noticed the small jar of blank ink and a holder for the pen next to the book. He mentally sighed, of course he wouldn’t have noticed it right away, he was only a Seeker for Merlin’s sake, trained to notice a small golden ball with wings in the sky obscured by scenery, the weather and sun, other players and balls that were out to get him.

“You write down what you’re looking for.” Blaise said. “And it comes up with the best possible results for you’re request.”

Harry took the pen and wrote ‘limbo’ on the second page. He watched as a long list of books appeared on the page. A very long list that extended through the next fifty or so pages.

“You can add other keywords to shorten the list.” Blaise said. “Try adding soul or locating or both.”

With that advice, Harry added ‘soul’ and ‘locate’. The list shortened down to six pages. The top two books were entitled ‘The Classification and Location of Limbo Through the Use of Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Runes’ by Sir Pavel McClintock and ‘Identiying Markers of the Alternate Realm of Souls’ by Master Andrea Watts.

“Those two would be a good start. And the fifth and eigth ones.” Blaise said, pointing to them on the list. They were: ‘Runistic Magic to Locate the Wayward Soul’ by Master Adi Parrish and ‘Arithmic Calculations for Limbo’ by Headmaster Collin Worthington.

“Tap your wand on the names.” Blaise directed and Harry followed without question. He watched in awe as four books floated from the shelves and were gently lowered onto the closest table with an invisible force. The table lamp automatically turned on, bathing them in a yellow-orange glow.

“That’s really handy.” Harry said. “Why doesn’t Hogwarts have something like this?”

Blaise scoffed, “and have all those students try using it at the same time? Or those who don’t know how to properly use it wasting time? Not having one also means that the librarian can better keep track of who took out certain books at what time. Besides it’s more expensive and harder to maintain. Now, let’s get researching.” He strode over to the table, snagged one of the books and sat down, somehow making those simple movements look much more elegant and confident than Harry could ever manage. With a sigh, he followed suit and took one of the books to read through.

-------

By the next hour, Harry was ready to toss all the books he had browsed through into a pile and burn them all. He was not joking, how ludicrous were some of these books to even exist? They didn’t even make sense! No logical anlaysis, reasoning or common sense. What, for the sake of Merlin, would a Hipogryff have to do with being in a state of unawareness? Unless, maybe, it could wake you up or something… Harry could see that, Hipogryffs could be frightening when they want to be.

So far, the four books they had first picked were some of the only ones with relevant information… only they were very complicated and long-winded. Even Blaise appeared to be having trouble reading through them if the furrow in his brow meant what Harry thought it did. He had left the complicated reading to the Slytherin as he perused around for more relevant books. Except that was apparently harder than he thought it would be.

… Or, he could be exaggerating just a little. He had only found three other books that were filled with ridiculous arguments and infactual declarations. Harry was still ready to burn them though.

“Here we go.” Harry blurted, satisfied that he had found a book that was relevant and in simple English. Blaise looked up from the book he was scrounging through.

“It says that limbo is a place or state of oblivion to which persons or things are neglected or cast aside, forgotten or out of date.” Harry read aloud. “Oblivion is the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening or the state of complete forgetfulness or unawareness. Or, limbo is a place where souls of the dead congregrate when disallowed from moving on to the afterlife.”

He frowned. “Well, I don’t think my dad has been forgotten, if anything, his ‘death’ made him more well known. And I doubt he was cast aside or out of date. Is it possible my dad wasn’t allowed to die?”

“Maybe. Those are literal definitions from people’s ideas of what limbo is. It may not be completely true. But if it is, then we’d have to wonder why your father is alive and what we can do about bringing him back.” Blaise said tiredly.

Harry stared at his companion, noting the tiredness he could see in the other boy. In fact, he himself was beginning to feel exhaustion pull at him. They had, had a long day after all.

“So, my dad’s somewhere else then?”Harry asked, choosing to push tiredness to the side for the time being.

“Not necessarily.” Blaise said. “It’s possible that your father’s body is buried in the Godric’s Hollow graveyard but his mind could be… somewhere else.” He hesitated, looking at Harry. “It’s also possible that his mind is still aware but unable to do anything. Limbo is difficult to figure out since it is not physical and there are no known reliable cases of someone entering limbo and coming back to talk about their experience.”

After a long moment of silence, Harry swallowed. “Let’s hope he isn’t.” If his father was still very much aware of the world, aware of the death of his wife, his own death, his orphaned child and the painful lives of his beloved friends but unable to do anything, then his state of mind would be questionable. Harry couldn’t imagine the torment of knowledge and limited activity that his father could be suffering through as they spoke. He shuddered at the thought. “It’s just a possibility, right?”

“Yes.” Blaise said. With a sigh, he closed his own book and slid it over to their stack of relevant books. “Once Mr. Williams is finished going through those documents, we can identify what happened to your father and possibily find a soul locator spell if it comes to it.”

“’Soul locator spell’?” Harry repeated.

“If James’ soul is somewhere outside of his own body, then, with the proper spell, we can track it down.” Blaise said.

“Right.” Harry said, not for the first time (nor the last, he supposed), feeling overwhelmed.

It was weird, when he thought about it, how his summer had turned out so far. In the beginning, he had been upset and angry, feeling betrayed and useless since the end of the tournament and the loss of a good friend. Cedric’s death had hit him hard and he still had not gotten over his guilt but it was Ron and Hermione’s responses (or lack thereof) that furthered his guilt, his confusion, his rage. Ron had been so jealous and angry at him (for something he had no control over, mind you) throughout the tournament, when he could have really used his best friend’s help. Ron had apologized, afterwards, when Harry had been mourning Cedric. Then summer came and Harry went back to his anti-magic relatives with only one letter each from Ron and Hermione, explaining that they could not tell him about what was going on in the wizarding world – the world he now considered home – and briefly talked about their plans for the summer, which, of course, did not include Harry in any way.

Although he had never voiced it, he had wondered why, with all the magic available, Ron and Hermione could not spend even a day with him? Ron had the excuse of not being able to pretend being a muggle – but it’s not like they would have to hang around a lot of muggles and talk to them. And Hermione was like him in a way, she was raised in a muggle environment, unaware of the magical world until she received her letter from Hogwarts. She would have no problem pretending to be a muggle.

It would have been easy; take the Knight Bus to Surrey and then spend the day with friends. That way, Harry would still be that forgettable cousin of Dudley’s, no Death Eaters or Voldemort would know where he was (if they didn’t already) and he would be safe and secure, but not locked away in the house. Not alone with only letters and an owl for company (and occassionally a house elf) like a male version of Rapunzel.

But it had never happened and now, he was in a home under his family name, with Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin whom had helped him find this place, his family and those who actually cared about him, Harry Potter, not the Boy Who Lived or one of the Golden Trio. He was just Harry, son of James and Lily Potter, a boy who was wronged by the wizarding community – spoken badly of in papers, used as a scapegoat for the fear of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror and his (possible return) – that no one seems to believe but a select few (that would admit it anyway).

“Harry?” Blaise’s voice broke through his inner rant of thoughts and Harry’s head jerked up to stare at his companion.

“What?” He asked, “did you say something?”

Blaise frowned and looked at him closely, “are you all right?”

“Worried?” Harry teased, tossing a weak grin. With a sigh, Blaise relented.

“You’re a tool in my achievement of a free life.” Blaise said dryly. “I need you in one piece.” He allowed the redirect Harry had given though he still watched the young Potter carefully.

“How Slytherin of you.” Harry said, closing the book in front of him with an audible thump.

“Considering I am a Slytherin, you’re merely stating the obvious, Little Snake.” Blaise said in return.

Harry scowled at him, “stop calling me that, I am not a Slytherin.” Though his face was displaying disapproval, his tone was still light and teasing, not angry.

Blaise smirked, “we’ll see.”

Harry rolled his eyes but began looking at their small collection of books without attempting to argue with the Slytherin.

“I think we’ve done enough research for one day.” Harry announced suddenly, standing up. Blaise looked at him before standing as well, brushing invisible lint from his clothing.

“All right.” Blaise said, “let’s see what Mr. Williams has found, have dinner and sort everything else out.”

Harry nodded and began to walk away from the table before hesitating. He glanced uncertainly at the books they still had use for but Blaise waved him away.

“Just instruct them to stay.” Blaise said. “You can tell the others that we’re done with to go back to the shelves.”

“What are they? Pets?” Harry asked incredulously but he turned to the books dutifully. “Stay.” He ordered, pointing a finger for good measure. The books did not move, or do anything, but what ordinary muggle books would do and Harry was oddly disappointed.

Feeling silly (and questioning Blaise in his head) he pointed at the stack of books to be returned to the shelves. “Leave.” They did not move. “Please?” Not even a wiggle. Harry sighed in exasperation, looking to his companion. Blaise, though looking tired, was watching with amusement.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Harry asked, tired with frustration beginning to peak.

“Duck.” Blaise said.

“Duck?” Harry glanced at the books just in time to drop before one barrelled straight into his head. “What the? Blaise!”

“What do you want me to do? They’re your books. You deal with them.” Blaise responded, standing a good distance away from the flying books. One let out a loud, piercing screech and he winced. “You’re going to have to gain control of them.”

“But how?” Harry shouted as he all but dove under the table to avoid the projectiles. He kicked out and hit a book, sending it careening into another before they both crashed to the floor, unmoving with their pages splayed open.

“I don’t know, order them to listen or something.” Blaise said unhelpfully. Harry sent him a withering look, smacking a book away from him before he rolled his eyes.

“If we weren’t in the middle of a problem, I’d have recorded that. When Blaise didn’t know the answer. It would shock all who know you.” He said dryly. Blaise frowned at him.

“I made a suggestion. Maybe you should be following it.” Was all he said as he casually took a step back to avoid a book to the face. Harry was slightly envious of Blaise’s way of looking graceful all the time.

“Fine.” He muttered, ducking further under the table. “Books, stop.”He commanded, his tone lowering and deepening, sounding more like a stern teacher than he’d care to admit. Amazingly, the books halted in mid air and Harry cautiously crawled out from underneath the table.

“Books, back to the shelves.” He watched in awe as they did so, floating over to the shelves and sliding themselves back into their places before returning to their stationary positions.

“Apparently you needed to specify book before you could order them around.” Blaise said in amusement.

Harry scowled at him, running his hands through his hair before he headed for the door, the relevant books still stacked serenely on the table just the way they had been before. He eyed them carefully before saying, “books, stay”. He left the library quickly after, with a smirking Slytherin trailing behind him.

By the time they had made it back to Williams, Harry’s irritability had lowered to exasperation and the advisor had finished his review of the documents. He looked up at their arrival and nodded to the seats across from him, which the two teenagers took.

“I have compiled a list of theories of what may have occurred.” He started, holding out a parchment scrawled with notes. “Though the leading theory is still limbo.”

Harry took the list and read through it. As Williams had said, limbo was at the top, followed by complicated phrases and words Harry hadn’t even known existed. He immediately handed it over to Blaise, whom took a cursory glance before giving it back to Williams, looking entirely unsurprised by its contents.

“We will have to go to Godric’s Hollow then.” Blaise said bluntly. Williams nodded with a sigh.

“Yes. We need to see if James’ body is still there and if so, if his soul is present as well.” Williams agreed.

Blaise nodded and stood, glancing at Harry. “Guess we know what we’re doing tomorrow.” He said lightly as the Potter stood as well.

“Yay, no more books.” Harry said under his breath. Blaise smirked and Williams looked bemused before he appeared to understand what had occurred.

“You angered the books?” Williams asked, sounding both amused and sympathetic.

Harry scowled at him. “How was I supposed to know that they would be offended by my order? They’re just books!”

“Magic books. And moreover, old magic books. They tend to get testy when they’re not treated properly and I’ve found that all Potter-owned books are a little… spoiled.” Williams said in fond amusement. Harry figured he was recalling memories of the books.

“Is everything apparently sentient around here?” Harry asked.

“Magic has a way of bringing things to life.” Blaise said. “It is hard to tell what has awakened and what still lies dormant.” Harry frowned at the vague answer and Williams chuckled.

“Spoken like a true lord, Lord Zabini.” He said as he too stood. “If that is all, I will take my leave from you now.”

“You’re leaving?” Harry blurted, then flushed in embarassment.

Williams smiled, “for now. I will do some more research from outside sources and contact you if I find anything. Don’t worry, I will keep things quiet for you. Besides, I believe that you need to do this by yourself, with only your friend alongside you.”

With that, and Harry’s lack of a response (how was he supposed to respond to that?), Williams left the manor. As he left through the door, Harry was surprised to note that the sun had already begun to set and the exhaustion that he had pushed back, began to surface once again, with a vengeance.
He stifled a yawn and jumped when Clarie suddenly appeared by his elbow. She bowed.

“Your rooms are prepared, Masters.” She said. “Would you like to eat before retiring?” Her tone was polite but Harry silently believed that she wanted them in bed and well-rested for the next day. Blaise declined the offer, claiming that he was full of snacks and tea and Harry found himself agreeing, his stomach content and his tiredness pulling at him.

Clarie led them to their rooms – right across from each other – and bid them goodnight before vanishing. Harry figured she had gone to her own room for rest. He mumbled some sort of goodnight to Blaise before wandering into his own room, changing into the pajamas that were resting on the bed, tossing his glasses onto the side tale and crawling underneath the covers. He was asleep within moments, dimly aware of the lights turning themselves off before he was lost in his dreams.

-------

By the time morning came, Harry was sitting up in the comfortable bed and yawning. It took a few seconds to remember what had happened for him to end up here and when he did, he flopped back onto the bed.

He stared at the ceiling quietly. His dad was alive… after all these years, had his wish actually come true? The hope that he had been cramming to the back of his mind was threatening to burst out and drop him straight into shock. If, no when, they found his dad, what would happen? Would James even be glad that they found him? What about Voldemort? If he found out that James was alive, then his dad would be a target once again. Harry wasn’t sure if he could handle the idea of losing a parent again. And what about Blaise? He was in danger just by being in his presence, after the summer, what would happen to him?

The thoughts churned inside his head and he began to feel something he thought he wouldn’t feel about this. Hesitation. Did he want to risk losing his father again? Was it worth bringing him back in the first place?

“You’re not backing out, are you?” Blaise asked. Harry turned his head to the side and saw Blaise leaning on the doorjamb, a serious expression on his face. “If you don’t try and save your father now, you’ll always question what would have happened.”

“Blaise…” Harry sat up and stared at his lap. “But I can’t… I won’t lose him again! If that means keeping things the same then-” He was cut off when something hit him in the head. He blinked and saw the object, a book, on the bed next to him.

“Where did this come from?” Blaise wondered aloud, entering the room. “Haven’t you wondered what would happen… if Voldemort found out about your dad before you saved him?”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. What would Voldemort do with a captive James Potter? ‘Probably use him to get to me, like he tried in first year…’

“James Potter was an enemy of Voldemort long before you came along, you know.” Blaise said, staring down at him with a cold look in his eyes. “He’s already handled being targeted for years, like you. Do you really think he couldn’t handle it now?”

“That is, I…” Harry started but was once again cut off.

“Are you really willing to toss away the one chance you have at getting a parent back? How could you be so selfish? Where’s the Gryffindor bravery your house always boasts about?” Blaise asked, face darkening. “How far are you willing to go, Potter?” With that said, the Slytherin swept out of the room as silently as he had entered.

Harry stared in shock at the door for several minutes. ‘That was entirely one sided… but he’s right, could I really let this chance of a family go without at least trying?’

“How could you be so selfish?” Blaise’s words seemed to echo in his head, long after the Italian had left the room.

“Selfish…” Harry said quietly. If he didn’t try and save his dad, he wouldn’t be the only one it affected. Remus and Sirius, years later, were still mourning their close friend. James Potter was still talked about in awe, and regret. His death, and the death of his wife, had impacted the wizarding world in a largely negative way. Could he really not try and bring him back? The answer was no, now that he knew it was possible, he needed his father back. He needed to at least try.

With resolve, he lifted his head and vowed, “my father will return to this world, no matter what I have to do to make it happen.”

-------

Later in the morning, Harry wandered into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed. Thankfully, he had only gotten misdirected twice on his way to the kitchen and so arrived in time to see Blaise eating at the table, already dressed and wide awake.

‘Of course, he’s a morning person.’ Harry thought with disgust, accepting the large mug of coffee Clarie offered him with a thanks that was muffled by a yawn.

“You’re quite welcome, Master Harry.” Clarie said, “Did you have a nice sleep? Was your room all right?”

“Yes, it was great. I had a nice sleep and the room was excellent.” Harry said tiredly.

“You’re not really a morning person, are you?” Blaise asked in amusement. Harry gave him a half-hearted glare.

“How can you be so awake?” Harry complained into his coffee. Blaise chuckled, sipping his own coffee.

“Years of practice.” The Slytherin said casually.

Harry shook his head, blinking when Clarie placed a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of him.

He smiled, “thanks Clarie.”

“You two need to eat up, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.” Clarie said, taking an empty plate from in front of Blaise.

Harry sighed, “right, Godric’s Hollow.”

Blaise watched him quietly for a long moment before he smirked and looked away. Finishing off his coffee, he stood.

“Then, I’ll go get ready.” He said, leaving the room.

Harry watched him go quietly.

“Trouble, sir?” Clarie asked, touching up his coffee. Harry immediately shook his head.

“No, Blaise just… knocked some sense into me.” He said, looking down at his plate.

“Did the young master need sense ‘knocked’ into him?” Clarie pondered. Harry laughed tiredly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I did.”

--------

“How is he not here?!” Harry said, almost shouting, running his hands through his hair. “That’s an empty coffin! How is this possible? Did nobody notice the missing body?!”

His ranting was turning into exasperated, shock induced shouting by the end. He and Blaise had left the mansion after breakfast, and took the Knight Bus to Godric’s Hollow. Blaise, of course, was wearing his leather bracelet while Harry was wearing his necklace, so the both of them were unrecognizable and unremarked upon through their journey. Now, the two of them were standing in the Godric’s Hollow graveyard, next to the graves of James and Lilly Potter.

“Harry, there is no reason to shout in the middle of a graveyard.” Blaise said reasonably, scribbling something down onto a spare piece of paper.

The detector spells Blaise had cast – which he apparently could cast after applying a small silver bangle to the back end of his wand (though he wouldn’t explain why) – had showed that James Potter’s grave was empty of a soul, a body and anything that may have helped them find his dad.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself before he turned to his companion. His calm, reasonable, unruffled companion who was now giving him a dry look.

“So what do we know?” He asked, carefully.

“Aside from the fact that your father isn’t in his own coffin, either in body or soul?” Blaise asked rhetorically. He continued when Harry glared at him. “It’s doubtful that the coffin was buried empty, so his body must have been taken afterwards. We have no idea if his body and his soul are still together, so it’s likely that we’ll have to search for them seperately.”

“That was… really blunt.” Harry said, staring at him.

“Do you need me to comfort you, Harry?” Blaise asked blandly. He looked down again at the paper in his hand, frowning slightly.

“Funny.” Harry said dryly.

“I thought so.” Blaise said, looking distracted.

“What did you mean that the coffin wasn’t buried empty?” Harry asked suddenly, trying to get Blaise’s full attention.

“There are wards cast around the coffin before it’s placed in the ground. The wards keep the wood from detoriating, and bugs and water from getting into the coffin. Basically, they help to preserve the coffin from the elements. However, there are also wards to prevent against grave desecration. These wards also note the size and weight of what’s in the coffin to properly protect the coffin and what’s inside. This coffin’s wards were taken down manually so that means that your father’s body was in here, but was removed some time after the burial.” Blaise explained, scribbling some more.

“Oh.” Harry said. “But why would someone take his body?”

“Maybe they knew that he wasn’t really dead.” Blaise suggested, finally looking at him. Before he could respond, Blaise continued. “There’s nothing more that we can do here. Let’s head back to the manor and work from there.”

Harry, feeling overwhelemed, nodded. “Okay, more research, yay.” He said under his breath.

-------

“How was your trip?” Clarie asked kindly, plying both teens with snacks and tea.

“Uneventful.” Blaise said.

“We didn’t find what we’re looking for.” Harry said glumly.

“And what were you looking for? If you don’t mind me asking, young master.” Clarie asked, looking contrite.

“My dad.” Harry said tiredly.

“We went to Godric’s Hollow to find out if Harry’s father was still in his coffin and if so, if his soul was present. However, James Potter’s grave was empty so now we’re back to researching.” Blaise said when Harry didn’t elaborate.

“Well of course he wouldn’t be.” Clarie said, fixing her uniform. There was a moment of silence as both boys turned to stare at her. She blinked when she noticed their stares. “What is it, sirs?”

“What do you mean… by that?” Harry asked. “Did you know that my dad’s grave was empty?”

Clarie looked abashed. “Well yes, of course. I, along with some others, were the ones to move him in the first place.”

Harry gaped at her, “what?”

“Well, since Master James’ soul was still active, we saw no reason to keep him in the ground. That is not a place our Lord should be! So we took his body from the coffin.” Clarie exclaimed, facing slowly turning red.

“You mean… you knew my dad was still… not dead? How? And where is he now?” Harry blurted out.

“We have detectors of course.” Clarie said, “and he’s right just down the hall.”

“I should have thought of that.” Blaise said quietly. He turned to Harry. “Some of the ancient families have this magic detector set up, basically they can detect each member of the family and their current status. Not where they are though, just the basics.”

“Like… like the Weasley’s clock?” Harry asked. “It tells where everyone is at the moment. At least, I think it does…”

“It’s probably an updated version of it.” Blaise said, “or something similar at least. Now, Clarie, did you say that James Potter was just down the hall?”

Clarie flushed at the attention before nodding. “I did. He is a few doors down in the Healing Wing. I can show you there if you’d like.”
“That’d be great, Clarie.” Harry said in a daze. The boys abandoned their snacks and followed the house elf down the hall.

“Are you going to tell Williams about this?” Blaise asked.

“Tell him what? That some of the Potters’ overzealous house elves desecrated a grave site and took my dad’s body?!” Harry hissed.

“It might help him with his research. He’s dealt with the Potter’s for years, so he might already be used to this kind of behaviour from the house elves.” Blaise suggested.

“I guess…” Harry trailed off as Clarie came to a stop in front of a large set of heavy looking oak doors. There was a carving on each door of a tall, plain staff with a serpant rising around and up toward the top of it.

“This is the Healing Wing.” Clarie said, and with a snap of her fingers, the doors slowly opened to reveal another long, winding hallway.

‘Another place for me to get lost in.’ Harry thought, following Clarie down the hall. He didn’t even bother to try and memorize the way.

Finally, they arrived at a room with a heavily carved door. The staff with the serpant was there, as well as the Potter crest and a depiction of a proud looking stag with an arrow piercing its side and eating a mouthful of herbs. Inside, the room was barren. The walls were a pearly white, the floor a dark brown wood. Only a bed and a side table were in the room.

Harry’s gaze focused on the body lying on the bed. A young man with messy black hair and dressed in silk pajamas was unmoving, seemingly comfortable with the sheets tucked around him. A shove to Harry’s shoulder sent the teen stumbling forward into the side of the bed and he stared directly into the face of a man that looked so much like him. This was his father. For a moment, Harry forgot to breathe and merely stood there in awe, shock and hope, with his mind a whirling mess of emotions and wild thoughts.

James Potter was right in front of him, looking as though he was merely enjoying a nap rather than being dead. It was only the unnatural stillness that said otherwise. Harry raised a shaking hand and slowly, hesitantly, reached out to touch the man’s shoulder. His hand connected and he let out a shaky laugh as he could feel him. His father was here, solid and looking healthy and young.

“Why… why does he look so young?” Harry managed to force out.

“This is when he died.” Clarie said quietly. “He was twenty-one at his death, and without his soul, his body hasn’t aged since then.”

“But it should have deteriorated.” Blaise interjected.

“We retrieved his body a few hours after the funeral, and cast preservation magic.” Clarie answered.

“So basically, time has no effect on him now.” Blaise said.

“That’s right.” Clarie said. “If I may, I would like to suggest that Master Harry sits down.”

“What?” Harry lifted his head from where he had returned to staring at his father. He then realized that his hands were shaking, and his legs felt weak. “Oh.”

Blaise rolled his eyes and Clarie huffed, with a small nostalgic smile on her lips. She waved her hand and a comfortable looking chair appeared next to Harry.

“Sit, please sir.” She said, pointing. Harry sunk into the chair, too dazed to protest or do anything really, aside from gazing at the bed and its occupant.

“Clarie, why did you retrieve James Potter’s body without informing anyone? Surely someone could have helped to locate his soul.” Blaise was saying. Harry could hear him but comprehension was another thing.

“Lady Kanneniha was the one to suggest the proper preservation techniques and the threat to Master James’ life if one were to find out before he was ready.” Clarie said.

“’Lady Kanneniha’?” Blaise repeated. “Who is she?”

“The Queen of the Faeries, some would say. The Ruler of the Seelie Court, or the Caretaker of Fate, she is also known to be.” Clarie said ominously.

Blaise’s brow furrowed. “And what does this Queen have to do with the Potter family?”

“The Lady claimed Master James in his youth, and has watched over him since. We would not dare go against her word.” Clarie answered.

Harry heard nothing more, their voices fading to muffled blurs of sound before vanishing entirely. He focused soley on the body of his father. Young, but here. ‘Now all we need is the soul to go along with it.’

Chapter Text

Arc II: Roaming the Inner State

The shock and relief of finding his father’s body lasted throughout the rest of the day and night. By the time the next morning came, Harry was awake and leaving the Healing Wing in a dazed state. At some point, he had passed out and awoken to find himself in a cozy bed, still in the same room he had fallen asleep in. Blaise and Clarie were nowhere to be seen.

“Finally awake, are you?” Blaise asked him as he stumbled into the kitchen.

“I’m still asleep, Zabini. Please be quiet.” Harry said. Blaise chuckled, placing a mug of coffee into his hands.

“You’re not as much fun in the mornings, you know.” He said, returning his gaze to a notebook in front of him on the table. Harry squinted at it as he took a sip of the beloved coffee. The pages were filled with a bunch of squiggles, or rather, drawings that looked similar to the ones they had seen in the sanctuary.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously, feeling more awake now as he took a seat across from Blaise. Blaise looked up at him for a moment, observing before he shrugged and slid the book over.

“Rune calculations to determine location of, and the means to return your father’s soul back to his body.” Blaise said bluntly. “I’ve managed to modify the spells specified in those books we were searching through earlier and there’s a high probability that it will work.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully, “… and what have you found?”

“I’ve discussed with Clarie about what she knows, but she isn’t aware of where your dad’s soul is, just that it’s not here. Apparently, the residents of the sanctuary would have noticed it or something.” Blaise shrugged after his explanation and munched on an English muffin as Harry mulled over the new information.

Accepting it, Harry asked “And where is Clarie?”

“She’s trying to get into contact with this ‘Lady Kanneniha’ for us.” Blaise said. “And from the way Clarie talked about her, we’ll need to be very careful around her.”

“She’s… the Fairy Queen or something, right?” Harry asked.

“Or something,” Blaise said. “According to what I’ve read, she might rule over the Seelie Court, which could be detrimental for us.”

At Harry’s blank look, Blaise said. “The Seelie Court is a gathering of ‘light’ faeries, they’re pure manifestations of nature and beauty. They also seem to have an elitist attitude, viewing themselves as better than other beings; they’re pretty powerful too.  Some faeries are known for carrying souls of the recent dead over a river of death or something, so this Lady Kanneniha could have something to do with your dad’s… circumstance.”

“She could be the reason my dad’s alive in the first place? She might have his soul?” Harry asked.

“Maybe,” Blaise said. “We won’t really know anymore until we can talk with her.”

“Great, talk to the leader of a court and hope she’s willing to help.” Harry said under his breath. Blaise said nothing in response and merely went over his notes again. They sat at the table in companionable silence, Blaise working and Harry gazing into space.

When Clarie finally returned, she seemed a little shaken, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Lady Kanneniha has granted you an audience. I will guide you there tonight.” She said.

“Why at night? Why not now?” Harry asked.

“Faeries have more power at twilight.” Blaise said absentmindedly, still making notes. Clarie nodded in agreement.

“Master Blaise is correct, sir. And faeries are not as trusting of magicians as they are of other magical creatures.” Clarie said. “It might be better if you let Master Blaise do the speaking, faeries do not hold magicians in high regard.”

“How come?” Harry asked curiously.

“Awhile back, wizards and witches disregarded faeries as persons and so they had no rights in the wizarding community. There was a riot, faeries lost and removed themselves from our culture. It’s pretty rare to actually see one, much less a leader.” Blaise said.

“Exactly how much research have you done?” Harry asked.

Blaise rolled his eyes, “enough to know what to avoid speaking about in front of a faerie. You, on the other hand, are more likely to piss them off.”

Harry scowled and then gave a frustrated sigh, “do you have to be so blunt?” The look Blaise offered in return answered the question well enough.

----

Clarie led them down the path they had walked before, but ventured onto a hidden path into the forest before they reached the dragons. The forest was breathtaking and nerve wracking. It was dark and misty, the trees looming above them with twisting, gnarled branches. All the wildlife appeared to be asleep or hiding, for there was no sound and nothing seemed to be watching them. It reminded Harry a lot of the memorable visit to the Forbidden Forest in first year. And he had run into Voldemort there. Meeting with a powerful faerie? Not sounding like the best plan so far but Harry was stubborn enough to do it anyway.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a large tree, its base as wide as four average sized trees put together. Clarie placed her hand on the bark and seemed to focus. There was a tingle in the air and Harry watched as the tree twisted and turned and a doorway appeared in the middle of the trunk. The mist seemed to cling around the tree and the entrance even more than around them, and it was thick and tinted with a gloomy purple.

“I can take you no further.” Clarie said solemnly. She motioned to the opening in the trunk. “This will take you to the Queen.”

Harry and Blaise exchanged glances. Then, Blaise shrugged and Harry sighed. Great, his wizard expert didn’t know if it was okay. How wonderful. But he took in a deep breath and strode forward, imagining it to be just like stepping through the barrier at the train station that led to Hogwarts Express.

Then, he stepped through the opening with Blaise right behind him.

-------

It was as dark as it was light. He was floating and yet standing on solid ground. Harry couldn’t make sense of his surroundings. It was like being told two entirely opposite things and they were both true at the same time. A disconcerting feeling enveloped him.

He forced his eyes open and breathed.

Wind blew in a continuous, gentle breeze that smelled of leaves and grass just after a shower of rain. Harry sat up slowly and looked around. He appeared to be in a large glen, surrounded by white ash trees with a small pond a few feet away. Only the water was a murky purple and he couldn’t see how deep it was.

Standing, he noticed the large tree he had used to get here, was not where it should have been behind him. It was gone, as if it had never been here and maybe it hadn’t. He’d learned over the years that magic did strange things. Sentient books, for one thing. He then noticed that his wand, nor his dad’s, were in his pocket. Panicking, he checked all of his pockets and the immediate area but found nothing.

He breathed deeply. “Relax. Maybe faeries just don’t like wands. Focus on something else.”

“Blaise?” He shouted. “Blaise, are you here?” Silence was his companion, it appeared.

“Please tell me I’m not alone in this weird forest with no way out.” Harry ran his hand through his hair.

“There is always a way out for those who seek one.” A voice said. He turned at the sound.

There was a figure emerging from the trees, walking towards him at a slow, easy pace. When they had stepped into the clearing and no longer covered in shadows, Harry could see them properly. And promptly gaped.

He gazed upon the woman in awe. She was tall, with woven brown hair cascading like a waterfall down one shoulder. Her skin was the same shade as caramel and made her crystal blue eyes much more noticeable. She was beautiful, dressed in silk robes that flowed in ripples over the dusty ground. And when she smiled at him, his heart seemed to warm as his head grew lighter, and his stomach churned. The hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. There was something devious and malevolent hiding behind that sweet smile. Like she was only kind so long as she got what she wanted. And if she didn’t… Harry didn’t want to know what would happen.

He really wanted Blaise here right now. He could have used a little sarcasm and political speak. But Blaise was not here and Harry had no idea what had happened to him; what this woman could have done with her fake smile and sharp eyes. He really needed to learn more about magical creatures and how not to upset them. He’d have been able to handle Dobby better, the merpeople in the lake at Hogwarts, the dragon from the Triwizard tournament… It wasn’t like he needed more enemies. One psycho dark lord and his pet minions were enough.

“Harrigan James Potter, our meet at twilight has at last arrived.” Her voice was calm and smooth. Harry found himself relaxing and striving to listen to whatever words she gave.

“Uh, yes? I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Harry stumbled over his words in panic. What was one supposed to say to a powerful Queen of a species wronged by wizards? If that’s what she was, anyway. This is why Blaise should have been here to do the talking. He had training of an aristocrat; Harry had hateful relatives who would sooner lock him in a broom closet than teach him social etiquette.

The Queen chuckled, amusement flashing in golden eyes. Gold? Her eyes were blue before…

“I am Ruler of the Seelie Court, a Caretaker of Fate, the Queen of the Faeries and the Guardian of the Potter Clan. You may refer to me as Lady Kanneniha, young Harrigan.” She said.

“Harry, you can, uh, call me Harry, Lady Kanneniha.” Harry said, relieved that he had properly pronounced her name. Quickly, he added a deep bow to her, hoping that was the right thing to do. When he straightened, the Queen was regarding him with open amusement.

“You came to acquire your father’s soul?”She asked rhetorically. “Follow me to the Asylum.” Kanneniha turned and walked to two tall pillars that appeared on either side of the pond. Between them, murky purple mist rose and swirled. It was like looking into a vertical whirlpool just floating in the air.

“This will be your entry to pass.” Kanneniha said.

Harry tentatively followed her over. “Lady Kanneniha?”

She turned to him and he swallowed thickly when identical emerald green eyes looked into his own.

“I came with a friend. Blaise Zabini? I was just wondering if you’d seen him…” He trailed off, uncertain as to how to pose the question did you do something to him? without angering her.

“The one with the shadow’s blood? I have spoken with him. He awaits your arrival in Elfhame.” She said.

“Oh,” Harry said.

“You will meet with him once you have retrieved your desire.” She said, her face peaceful. “Young Harrigan, your embarkment is a threatening ordeal. The reward may not be of what you envisioned. If you were to fail, there will be no more use for you.”

She held out her hand and Harry dazedly took the object. It was a small, blown glass crystal of sorts. It glowed with an unearthly blue, little sparks appearing, to touch the edges of its containment before fading into mist.

“What is this?” Harry asked, “And what do you mean, there won’t be any ‘use’ for me?”

Kanneniha smiled softly, her eyes flashing a royal purple. Harry felt a push at his back and stumbled forward, straight into the ghastly mist.

-------

Harry managed to catch himself before he landed on his face. Looking around, he noted the rock. He was surrounded by long stretches of rock that only grew smaller in the distance. The rock was barren and scorched with long gauges and crevasses etched into the surface. The mist doorway he had used to enter was gone. He was trapped, with no idea where he was or how to get out. And all he had on him was the weird crystal Kanneniha had given him.

Without his wand, he was virtually defenseless. Not to mention he had no reason to believe Kanneniha when she said that Blaise was waiting for him. Or, he could be waiting for him in death! Or where his dad’s soul was, if it was even here.

Harry took slow, deep breaths to calm himself. ‘No use losing control now. Wait until there’s at least a monster in front of me or something.’

With a sigh, he walked around, examining the scarred earth. He had no idea how long he walked before he finally arrived at one of the crevasses he had seen. It hadn’t seemed that far away. Peering down, his mouth dropped open.

“What-? Why can’t the magical world ever make sense?” Harry asked in exasperation. Instead of the crevasse dropping down into pitch black darkness, he could see light and clouds. It was as though he was peering down at the sky. The clouds drifted lazily, disappearing from sight beneath the rock.

In his hand, the crystal glowed brighter and brighter until it burned, forcing Harry to drop it. The glass shattered as it fell and the little blue sparks escaped, crashing into the rock. The mist scattered into the air, dissipating until nothing was left.

Light flared, searing his eyes and Harry fell.

--------~

He was in a bedroom, the walls flickering in and out of existence like an old black and white movie. He looked down to his hands and his body was doing the same thing. Only it wasn’t his body. ‘What…’

“Jamie! Are you still moping?” A cheerful, familiar voice asked and he turned to gaze at the teenager standing in the open doorway. ‘Sirius? It’s a young Sirius! Am I in a memory?’ Harry thought to himself.

“I don’t mope,” He said, standing from the bed. “Don’t confuse me with yourself.”

Sirius mock-gasped. “Me? I never mope, I ‘meditate’ on my past actions.”

“Did you steal Remus’ dictionary again?” He asked, walking up to Sirius. He then passed the other boy and entered the hall.

“Maybe,” Sirius said with a drawl, catching up to him. “Don’t worry, I left a chocolate frog as payment.”

“You’re only encouraging his addiction.” He said in amusement. Sirius grinned toothily.

“And who was it that bought him an entire case just ‘cause Snivellus insulted him on the train?” Sirius asked. “I personally would have just hung the slimy snake out the window for the ride home.”

“Like you’re not in enough trouble. Besides, we can’t do that anymore.” He said. Sirius rolled his eyes and dramatically threw his hands into the air.

“Your obsession with Evans, combined with that shiny new badge has ruined you, Prongs. She may be a kind of friend now but one slip and she’ll hate you all over again. And Snivellus is going to do everything he can to make you screw up. This is all going to blow up in your face.” Sirius said. ‘Prongs? This’ my dad’s memory?’

“It’ll work,” He said. “And the Marauders will be in action.”

Sirius grinned, “Let’s hope you’re right.”

“Hey, we’re the Marauders. We ‘always’ stick together. No one can come between us.” He said assuredly.

‘Yeah, if only.’

------~

“This is a surprise.” A girl laughed. She had long red hair and emerald green eyes. “James Potter in the library, ‘studying’?”

‘Is that… my mom?’

“What else could I possibly be doing in a library?”He asked mockingly. Lily Evans shook her head, placing her books on the table.

“Prank research.” She said easily as she took a seat.

“I gave up my ‘horrible’ ways for you.” He said dramatically.

Lily looked unimpressed. “You stopped bullying, yes. And I appreciate it. But pranks? I’m pretty sure your head would explode if you tried to stop that.”

“Gee, thanks Lils.” He said sarcastically. “Well, actually, you’re probably right. Now, are we going to get this studying over with or what?”

Lily laughed again, “I don’t know how Remus manages to put up with you and Sirius all the time.”

“Years of practice.” He said promptly.

She smiled, “Then we better get started.”

--------~

“James Potter, I finally have you here, kneeling before me.” The dark wizard smirked cruelly. ‘Voldemort…’

“I will never give in to you.” He said, a snarl in his voice.

“No? Not even for your mudblood wife and child?” Voldemort taunted.

He remained silent.

“You have lost, James. Admit defeat and join me. With your power, we could achieve everything.” Voldemort said.

“Not even if you handed over Pettigrew.” He said defiantly.

Voldemort hissed, “Death it is. For you, and for your family.” Voldemort raised his wand and the last thing he saw was a sickly green light.

----------------~

“Death is but a journey. It is simply another path that must be taken. Whoever came up with that should be glad they’re probably already dead.” It was a man’s voice, dripping with anger and frustration. It sounded almost achingly familiar.

Harry opened his eyes for what felt like the fifth time that day and saw the same barren and scarred earth from before. He sat up and turned to the voice. A man was leaning against a nearby rock, fiddling with shards of glass. He had messy black hair and hazel eyes framed by wiry glasses. He looked a lot like an older Harry, though more frayed and at wit’s end.

“Dad?” Harry blurted in shock and awe. He couldn’t believe this. His dad was standing right in front of him, awake and talking.

Cool hazel eyes peered at him from behind a frame of glasses. “I suppose.” He said, casually tossing the shards of glass onto the ground before him, in between the two of them. The man appeared disinterested, though a small dark smirk adorned his features.

 “You guess?” Harry repeated in confusion. He began to feel numb, his mind running slowly and struggling to connect all the information he was receiving into a way that made sense. Was this really his father? Or was there some sort of magical explanation as to why his father was acting impersonal towards him? He didn’t appear to care and showed no recognition or another reaction aside from disinterest to seeing his son for the first time in fourteen years. He couldn’t believe this; this is what he gets after all this time alone? The warmth he thought he’d feel, that he’d embrace wholeheartedly, was now even further from him than before. This was not the father that he’d been expecting to find.

James Potter rolled his eyes. “We may look the same in all but eyes, but that doesn’t mean much. Your lack of control is astonishing.”

“What?” Harry asked, brow furrowed in confusion as he worked through this new information.

“Your magic? You’re practically oozing with it.” James said with an almost long-suffering sigh. Harry was silent for a moment, considering him.

“We finally meet after all these years, and the first thing you do is criticize me?” Harry asked slowly.

“Actually the first thing I did was ramble on about death.” James said.

Harry frowned at him.

“Then I criticized you.” James said. His eyes gleamed from behind his glasses.

“Why?” Harry asked, anger beginning to practically boil inside of him.

 “Why? Why would I care about meeting you? Oh, were you expecting a ‘my baby’s alive!’ or ‘it’s so great to see you after all this time!’?” James asked, smirking. “My main question is actually what took you so long?”

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked, confused and hurt. His oncoming anger was beginning to take over the numbness.

“What do you think? I’ve been stuck in this retched place for, err, however long it’s been, waiting for you to show up. And here you are, finally. Taking a peak into my memories too. Not exactly the most polite of greetings, I’d say.” James said, his tone tinged with madness.

“I… I didn’t mean to look at your memories!” Harry said in protest and rising confusion. “And I didn’t even know you might be alive until a few days ago!”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.” James said, disinterested. His voice had turned dull and apathetic. “Is there anything else you’d like to deny responsibility for?”

“Deny… what are you talking about?” Harry asked. “I’m here to save you and you’re treating me like… rubbish!” Like how the Dursley’s treated him…

“Rubbish? Hmm, good metaphor. Go on now, rant away.” James said evenly, waving a hand dismissively.

“I could just leave you here.” Harry said angrily. James regarded him carefully.

“Do you even know the way out?” He asked. Harry flushed and he sighed.

“I didn’t think so. Why don’t you go look at the clouds? They’re all fluffy.” James said airily. His eyes were dark and shadowed. “That’s what kids like to do, right?”

“You’re not my father.” Harry said, almost snarling. “He’s not like this.”

“How do you know I’m not? Do you have memories of me? Or is everything you know, what others have told you?” James asked, slightly manic. With a wave of his hand, a rock surged from the earth and he settled on it as though it was a chair.

“I…” Harry said. It was a good question, how would he know?

“Feeling indecisive?” James asked in amusement. “Remember that most people do not speak ill of the dead.”

Harry’s gut clenched. Could his dad have been this cold and aloof?

“No, you’re wrong. I do know you, and I know that Sirius and Remus miss you very much. Professor McGonagall remembers you fondly and even Snape seemed to think you were a decent rival.” Harry said determinedly. James looked amused.

“Sirius and Remus miss me?” James asked. He sounded almost… mocking.

“Yes?” Harry said in confusion.

“It’s their fault I’m here!” James said, sneering.

“What? No, it’s Pettigrew’s fault! And Voldemort’s! How could Sirius and Remus be at fault?” Harry said.

“Sirius convinced us to choose Pettigrew as our secret keeper. Remus insisted on the Fidelius Charm. My plan was to hide out at one of our sanctuaries, let the old wards and our residents protect us. It’s their fault!” James said, his voice almost shouting. His pupils were dilated in rage and cold hatred sounded in his tone of voice. The level of disdain he held for his closest friends shocked Harry to the core.

Harry swallowed thickly. “You really blame them?” His voice was low and it took effort to force the words from his mouth.

“Not just them. Dumbledore, Snape, you.” James said. Hazel eyes glinted maniacally in the low light.

“Me? I was a year old!” Harry said in disbelief. ‘How could he think I had anything to do with it?’

“Why do you think Riddle came after us in the first place?” James asked mildly, appearing to have calmed down some. “He came because of you.”

“What? What do I have to do with it?” Harry asked in bewilderment. How could his own father blame him for something like that?

James laughed bitterly, “You really don’t know? Dumbledore never told you?” James’ tone was tinted with hysteria and it made Harry’s stomach clench.

“Told me what?” Harry asked. This entire situation was bizarre and definitely not what he had expected. His dad was not what he expected and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“The prophecy,” James said simply, as though that answered everything.

“What prophecy?” Harry was beginning to feel like a broken record with the way he was constantly repeating whatever James was saying.

“Shortly before you were born, a prophecy came about how a child could be the downfall of the dark lord. I don’t put much belief into prophecies myself, especially when they’re from her, but Lily and Dumbledore believed it to be true. Voldemort too. And you were one of the candidates for the prophecy.” James said dully. His eyes had taken on a far-away look and Harry assumed he was remembering when he had heard of it.

“Me? That’s why Voldemort was after us and we went into hiding?” Harry asked numbly, horror beginning to set in. That couldn’t be true… Dumbledore would have told him, right?

“Why did you think he came after us?” James asked in return. He sounded both curious and unconcerned somehow.

“Well… I don’t know, but how could an infant take out Voldemort?” Harry asked and then instantly regretted it. He had taken down Voldemort as a baby, with the help of his mother. Until the end of the school year anyway. Now he was back and ready to restart his war against muggleborns and muggle-lovers.

“Hmmm, so my son is incorrigibly naïve as well?” James asked, seemingly musing to himself.

Harry groaned in frustration. He pushed aside the prophecy matter for now.

 “What is wrong with you?” He had grown tired of where this conversation was leading and he was no closer to finding a way out with his father.

“Wrong with me? Why nothing of course. Unless you count being murdered, unable to protect your own family, and then waking up in this Merlin-forsaken place with no way out and only memories as my company! Nope, nothing’s wrong at all.” James said dryly. He ran his hands messily through his hair. “Were you expecting me to gleefully dote on you like a loving father the moment I saw you?”

“Well I wasn’t expecting my father to be off his rocker.” Harry said snidely. His anger was reaching its peak now.

James laughed, twisting it into a bitter sound that wrenched at Harry’s heart, “Well, I am, congratulations. You got your dad back, now what’re you going to do?”

“I am going to leave this place, and take my dad with me.” Harry said determinedly. He would not be losing his father again. Not when he was this close.

“What if I don’t want to go with you?” James asked evenly. His face had slipped into a cool mask and his eyes were shadowed by the tilt of his head.

“Then I’ll take you by force.” Harry said, watching his father closely. Why wouldn’t his father want to leave this wretched place?

“Look at this. My very own son, all grown up. Are you really going to take me on, Harry? Can you fight me?” James asked in amusement. A wicked grin began to form.

In a fit of pent up rage, Harry struck out with a fist, aiming for his father’s face. Only, his fist glided easily through empty air and Harry was startled to realize that James was suddenly behind him.

“Ooh, you are willing to fight me. How interesting, though you’re doing a lousy job of it.” James said casually, with an undertone of mockery. “Let’s make it a little more fun.”

Harry was forced to dive to the side as a vivid blue light shot from James’ right hand. The ground where he had stood exploded into dust and debris.

“That was wandless magic!” Harry said in shock.

“Yes,” James said slowly. “Why are you so surprised?”

“It’s not supposed to be possible,” Harry said.

“Really? You’ve never used magic without a wand?” James asked, amused and incredulous.

Harry thought back to the vanishing glass at the zoo and his inflated aunt. “… Oh. Then why aren’t we taught it?”

“Only those with the dedication and control can use wandless magic without causing accidents. It’s a dangerous thing to mess with and takes years to properly learn.” James said, even as he aimed for his son. He twisted his wrist and Harry had to scramble away from another burst of red light. Reducto. That was the spell James was using. His own father was trying to blast him to pieces.

“I don’t want to fight you!” Harry shouted, ducking another shot. Never would he hurt his family again.

“Then leave!” James said in return, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“No!” Harry said in defiance, moving closer to his father. Then once he was close enough, he leaped at him, startling James. Harry managed to knock his father down in a tackle, landing on top of him. A burst of magic shot from James’ hand, shooting past Harry’s face by a few inches.

“You stupid, reckless child!” James said in shock and anger, trying to shove the boy off of him. Harry angled more of his weight down on his father in response.

Harry scowled, “First, you insult me, then you try to kill me and now you’re lecturing me? There’s something seriously wrong with you!”

To his surprise, James laughed loudly. “When isn’t there anything wrong with me? Too careless, too pig-headed, too arrogant, too smart, too foolish - there’s always something wrong with me!” His laugh was bitter and a dark gleam could be seen in his eyes. Harry felt his concentration dim and James took that chance to twist away from him, tossing his son onto the rough ground.

With a huff of annoyance, James easily got to his feet and set about wiping the dust from his clothing. A few swipes of his hand and he was dirt free.

“If that’s all you’ve got, you might as well leave now.” James said, turning his back on his son.

Harry swallowed, his throat dry and thick. “I can’t leave now… not when I’ve come so close to getting a parent back!” By the end of the sentence, he was shouting and his hands clenched into tight fits. Tears sprung to his eyes but did not fall.

“You’re my dad! You gave your life to protect me and I’m taking you back! No matter what it takes!” Harry shouted, his chest heaving. “Even… even if I have to take you down to do it!”

James looked amused. “Stubborn, aren’t you?” He settled against a rock and watched him carefully.

Harry saw red, tunnel vision narrowing in on his father.  His pulse quickened and all he could hear was the beating of his own heart. Then, he could feel the magic swelling up inside him. It grew bigger and bigger and it hurt. He gasped in pain before the magic burst out and swarmed the area around him.

When he could see again, he was still in the barren landscape but the rock his dad had been leaning on was gone, reduced to debris. James himself was crumpled on the ground, unconscious. Harry panted for several moments, taking in the scene around him in shock before he exhaustively slumped down to his knees. Black dots appeared in his vision until they overwhelmed him and he hit the ground, out cold.

-----

“Harry? Harry wake up already.” A persistent and familiar voice was reverberating through his aching head and Harry groaned in pain and annoyance.

“What…” It came out as an almost growl and the other person chuckled lightly.

“Really not a morning person, are you?” Blaise asked.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. His glasses were on his face so he could clearly see his surroundings. The room he was in was mostly bare with simplistic furniture. The bed he was on was comfortable and the chair Blair was sitting in also appeared to be comfortable, considering how the Italian was casually sprawled.

“Finally awake?” Blaise asked with a smirk. He didn’t bother to move from his position and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What happened?” Harry asked tiredly. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t remember?” Blaise asked in turn, his tone somewhat hesitant. Harry frowned and scrunched his eyebrows in thought.

“We went through the misty thing, then I was in a forest and the Faerie Queen was there. Then I was in some weird place and… my dad! My dad was there and he was… he was…” Harry scrubbed at his face and looked away.

“Bat-shit insane?” Blaise said, “Completely off his rocker? More likely to go after you than Voldemort?”

Harry glared at him, “No. He hated everyone equally, including me.”

Blaise grimaced, “Lady Kanneniha informed me of your father. Before you ask, he’s here too but he’s being kept asleep because no one really wants to deal with him.”

“Oh. Wait, she knew about my dad’s… condition? And she didn’t tell me?” Harry asked, annoyed. Blaise shrugged.

“She is a queen, Harry. Maybe she had her reasons.” He said.

“Indeed I do.” Another voice said. The boys turned to see Lady Kanneniha standing in the doorway. They began to get up but she waved them back down.

“It is a wonder to see you awake, young Harrigan. I offer congratulations and condolences on your desire.” She said.

“You knew my dad was insane, didn’t you?” Harry asked bluntly. He ignored the slight gestures Blaise was making to tell him to stop from behind the queen’s back.

“That is correct.” Kanneniha said, a twinkle in her eye. “It was your duty to obtain firsthand knowledge of your father and his condition. I would not interfere with that.”

Harry scowled, “And me having to fight my own dad? Was that a part of your do-not-interfere-plan?” Blaise dropped his face into his hands.

“It was.” Kanneniha said, her voice as steady and controlled as a calm river. “You will leave by the next hour. Your father will be accompanying you as will your shadow friend.”

Before either of them could respond, she swept out of the room to leave them in their silence.

Harry regarded Blaise carefully. His hair looked a little scruffy but Harry could not see any bruises or scratches on him, or any evidence that he had received any rough treatment. He was, however, wearing different clothes than when they had set out (as was himself, he noticed). The designs were rich in colour and plain in style but the material was unfamiliar to him. Despite that, the clothes fit comfortably and properly.

“Should I be concerned that she apparently knew our sizes?” Harry asked absentmindedly.

“Probably,” Blaise said, an amused smirk playing at his lips.

“Why does she refer to you as the ‘one with shadow’s blood’?” Harry asked, looking at him.

“It just means that I stay in the background; nobody notices me unless I want to be noticed.” Blaise said, frowning slightly.

“Really?” Harry asked, pressing for more information. Blaise locked eyes with him.

“That’s right.” Blaise said, his tone implying that an end to that topic was a good idea.

“Where did you go once we walked through that tree? The queen lady said that she had talked to you and you agreed to wait in some elf place.” Harry said instead.

“Is that what she said? I don’t remember anything after following you. I woke up here.” Blaise said, looking away.

“Oh… do you think she could have erased your memories then?” Harry asked, a knot in his stomach.

“Maybe,” Blaise said in agreement. Then, he stood, carefully stretching out. Harry followed suit, climbing out of the bed and putting on the shoes that were placed nearby. They fit perfectly.

“We should get ready to go.” Blaise said. “And figure out how to take back your father.”

“That will not be necessary.” Another voice said. Harry flinched and saw Blaise tense, his hand reaching for his pocket before he stopped himself.

A tall man with braided blond hair to his shoulders, stood in the doorway. His crystal blue eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded them.

“My apologies, I meant no harm. I am merely here to deliver your father to you, Harrigan Potter.” He said. “I am called Logaenfhar.”

Harry stared at him and then looked behind him. There was nobody there. The man seemed to understand his confusion and held out the same glass-blown crystal the queen had given him.

“That’s…” Harry said. “I don’t understand.”

“The ancient arts seldom do to magicians.” Logaenfhar said.

“What is that?” Blaise asked.

“Lady Kanneniha gave me it shortly before I met my dad. But it broke.” Harry said, taking the crystal.

“It will not break again.” Logaenfhar said assuredly.

Blaise took it from Harry and examined it up close. Harry noticed that the sparks were even brighter and faster than before.

“Is this his spirit?” Blaise asked suddenly. Logaenfhar nodded.

“It is.” He said.

After a moment, Blaise turned to Harry. “We can leave now, Harry.”

“But what about-?” Harry asked but Blaise cut him off, holding out the crystal.

“He’s in there. Remember we have his body at your place, right?” Blaise said. Harry nodded slowly, looking down at the crystal.

“If that is all that you require, I will take my leave.” Logaenfhar said. He bowed to them and they quickly reciprocated before he left.

“One question,” Harry said suddenly.

“What?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow.

“How do we get out of here?”

Chapter Text

Borderline of Hope – Arc II: Roaming the Inner State

Chapter Six: Attack at Dawn

Once Harry and Blaise were escorted back to the Potter estate by an amused fairy, they all but collapsed into bed and slept until late morning. Clarie was amused by their tiredness but Harry could see her relief at them being back safe and sound. She was also hopeful, for they had brought back James’ soul, after all. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her about James, but Blaise told her for him.

“Harry’s dad’s off his rocker.” Blaise said simply that next morning. He was seated at the kitchen table, sipping at a strong mug of coffee. Harry groaned and dropped his head to the table, his forehead connecting with an audible thump.

Clarie looked at him in concern. “Lady Kanneniha had warned us of this.” She said easily, making a cup of tea for Harry.

“Did everyone but me know?” Harry asked. “And you don’t count.” He said to Blaise. Blaise just shrugged.

“Well, yes.” Clarie said, as though it had been obvious. Then again, she had not only known James was still alive but had broken into his coffin and stolen his body.

Harry sighed tiredly, sipping at his tea. “Of course you did.”

Blaise chuckled but said nothing while Clarie looked abashed.

“So, what can we do to get my dad back?” Harry asked.

“I think I’ve worked out what we need to do.” Blaise said.

“You’ve found a way to safely return my dad’s soul to his body?” Harry asked. His voice was tinged with an interesting mix of excitement, shock and nervousness. He was one step closer to regaining a parent, a guardian, a family, whom was supposed to protect and guide him. Except… James Potter was currently mad at the world, blaming close friends and family for what had happened to him. Being essentially trapped in his own mind for fourteen years had driven James insane but hopefully getting his body back would calm him down.

“It’s not foolproof but I’m confident it will work.” Blaise said. “I should have everything prepared for tonight.”

“Already?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Slytherin.” Blaise said easily, “We like to be prepared.”

“Slytherins are like boy scouts?” Harry asked in amusement. Blaise frowned at him and he shrugged, “Helpful American muggles who sell a lot of cookies and learn to tie knots.”

Blaise looked at him oddly but apparently decided not to comment on it. “Moving on, I would recommend that we place some sort of restraint on your father.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, his tone warning.

“He’s off his rocker, Harry. He attacked you, his own son. When we bring him back, we don’t know how he’ll react.” Blaise said reasonably.

“No.” Harry refused. “I’ll handle him if it comes to it.” The determination and desperation for family was evident in his voice.
Blaise hesitated a moment before he rolled his eyes but consented.

“Alright.” He said, “As you wish.”

Harry nodded, “Please.” He gazed down into his cooling cup of tea as though it held all the answers. Blaise said nothing as he left the kitchen.

---------

“Well?” Harry asked nervously.

“Patience, Harry.” Blaise said, focused solely on the task at hand. Clarie hung in the background, watching in worry.

Blaise slowly spooned some of the horrid mixture into a small bowl Clarie provided. Then, using a dropper, he carefully let a few drops of a blue liquid fall into the bowl as well before slowly stirring counter-clockwise for a minute. Once the concoction had turned a mild yellow-greenish colour, he tapped the edge of the bowl three times with his wand. He waited for a few moments before he finally sighed and relaxed. He took the blown glass from Harry and slowly lowered it into the bowl until it was partially covered in the liquid. Once it was settled in the bowl, he backed away, pulling Harry with him.

The concoction bubbled violently, the colour fluctuating between yellow-green and sky blue. The blown glass cracked and seemed to melt as it sunk further and blended into the mixture. Blaise stepped forward after a few minutes and stirred clockwise seven times. The concoction calmed and turned a sea blue.

“We’re ready.” Blaise said, lifting the bowl into his hands. Harry released a huge sigh of relief.

Blaise carried the bowl over to the man lying on the bed. When he nodded, Harry tilted his father’s head back and opened his mouth. Blaise slowly poured the contents of the bowl into his mouth with one hand. When James began to choke, Blaise tapped his wand against the man’s throat. James seemed to swallow instinctively. Soon, the bowl was empty and Blaise backed away, placing the bowl on a side table.

“Harry, place your hand flat on his forehead.” Blaise said. Harry did as he was told.

“Good, now do what I showed you before.” Blaise said.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. He slowed his breathing and focused on the flow of magic through his body. The magic was smooth and rushed, following the paths of least resistance through his body. Slowly, the flow to his hand grew stronger and wilder. Harry’s brow furrowed, tiring under the pressure but striving on. He struggled to control the flow of magic, forcing it through his hand and into his father. He lasted for a few torturously long minutes before he collapsed. Blaise caught him before he fell on top of his father. Harry leaned tiredly back into his hold and Blaise guided him to a chair Clarie had summoned.

“You alright?” Blaise asked him. Harry nodded, slumped back into the chair.

“M’fine.” Harry said, though it was more of a mumble than a coherent sentence. Blaise looked unimpressed and looked to Clarie.
“We need to get him to his room before he faints.” Blaise said, easily ignoring the dark but tired glare Harry sent his way. Clarie nodded eagerly, also ignoring her young master.

“And Master James?” Clarie asked. Blaise glanced at the man on the bed. He had not moved throughout their ritual and there appeared to be no outward difference in him.

“It will take time for the potion to take effect. Harry’s magic should speed it along. He should wake up within the next few days.” Blaise said.

Harry sagged in relief. “Thank you, Blaise. I really owe you one.”

Blaise regarded him carefully. “You need to rest now, Harry. When your father wakes up, it’s likely that he won’t be alert or sane. You need to be ready to handle him, if it comes to it.”

Harry nodded, “I will be.”

--------

Awareness came to him, slow and groggy. Once it came, however, it rushed through him, overflowing and blinding. One moment he’s trapped in the same never-ending barren world and the next he’s flooded with sensations. He’s lying down on a soft, comfortable bed, cushioned and warmed by a thick mattress and smooth sheets. The air is warm and soothing with a small breeze brushing lightly against his face.

The room was quiet around him, his own soft breathing all that he could hear. And when he opened his eyes, it took several moments to adjust to the dim lighting. His eyes attempted to focus on the room itself but it was dim, he was not wearing glasses and he had not used his eyes in years. His eyes began to water from dryness and strain and a pressure headache started in his forehead. His ears began to ache, his blood pumping loudly through his veins. Breathing became more of a challenge as his chest tightened painfully and left him gasping. He could not pull in enough air. His skin tingled and the hairs on his arms and neck rose. His mouth was suddenly dry and his lips threatened to crack.

All of the sensations, after not having any for so long, overwhelmed him. He snapped his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and took deep, slow breaths. His hands fisted tightly into the sheets, shaking as the muscles began to spasm from prolonged stillness. He felt himself break into a cold sweat, which rose goose bumps on his arms. His heart was pounding wildly and his gasps were turning into choked gulps. His entire body shook with cold and fear.

He had a body. He could move. He could hear, see, smell, taste and touch. James Potter was back in the world of living.
James curled in on himself, desperately shutting out the world. His magic curled inside him, growing in ferocity. His magic that had not been used outside of his own heard for so, so very long, finally burst out, spreading through the room and beyond the walls.

He slumped back against the mattress, exhausted and shaking. His gasping turned into small pants and then into the slow, deep breaths that calmed his racing heart. He could feel his own fingers releasing the sheets to clutch at his own hair. The painful tug at his scalp was a welcome relief to his overwhelmed senses and helped to anchor him.

Tears, warm and salty, were steadily streaming down his cheeks and he could not make them stop. Would not make them stop. He choked back a sob, his shoulders shaking violently. James burrowed his face into the pillow, feeling the soft material brace his face. It did not help him. He was here, alive and well, after so long. His chest ached and hitched with every breath.

Finally, he jerkily untangled the sheets from around him and tumbled off the side of the bed. He hit the cold floor, landing on his shoulder but he felt no pain. James turned slowly over onto his back, lying flat on the floor. He could feel nothing but the cold numbness that seemed to envelop his entire body. The air was cool against his clammy skin. He felt light-headed and dazed as he focused on breathing slowly.

Suddenly, he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. James could not open his eyes to check as the dizziness grew more and more distracting and he finally passed out.

-------

Harry and Blaise were seated at the kitchen table, eating snacks Clarie had insisted upon.

Blaise looked grim but not surprised. “He had a panic attack. It’s not surprising, he’s just been returned to his own body. His senses probably overwhelmed him.”

“He was in a dimly lit room that was quiet, how was he overwhelmed?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Harry, he’s been locked inside his own head for years. He hasn’t had a body to feel sensations in. We’re so used to daily sensations that they do not affect us, but James isn’t and he felt all of these new sensations all at once. It would have been very overwhelming.” Blaise said. “We’ll need to keep an eye on him until he’s used to his body again.”

“Right… what about his magic?” Harry asked tentatively.

“He lost control.” Blaise said bluntly. “Like I said, he hasn’t had a physical form in years. His magic wouldn’t have been contained as it was before his death. Now that he has a body, he’ll have to relearn how to control his magic.”

“How is he going to do that?” Harry asked.

“He’ll probably need your help, Harry.” Blaise said, not mincing words. Harry mulled it over quietly.

“Understood.” He said.

Harry swayed suddenly and had to grab the table to remain upright. Blaise immediately stood.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I feel a little weird.” Harry said, leaning heavily on the table. Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

“Like a combination of adrenaline rush and dizziness?” Blaise asked.

“You know what it is?” Harry asked in surprise. Blaise muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath.

“The property has been breached.” He said.

“What?” Harry asked. “What do you mean breached? How is that possible?”

“Someone has broken through the wards.” Blaise said.

A pop sounded and Clarie appeared next to Harry’s elbow and he flinched. If Clarie or Blaise noticed, they did not show it.
“Master Harry! Master Blaise! We have intruders on the premises!” Clarie said. “Please remain indoors and allow the residents to handle the intruders.”

“Who are the intruders?” Harry asked.

“At least a dozen magicians dressed in dark cloaks with their faces covered in masks.” Clarie said.

“Death Eaters?” Harry asked. He glanced at Blaise. “You need to hide then. And we need to hide my dad!”

“Master Harry, we will protect you and Masters James and Blaise. You need not worry. Please remain out of sight.” Clarie said before she vanished.

Harry frowned but before he could say anything, there was a loud explosion. Harry rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall with Blaise following him.

The living room wall had been blasted into pieces. The furniture was similarly destroyed. With the wall gone, Harry could see outside into the backyard. He could also see the four Death Eaters that were currently climbing over the debris to enter the house. He quickly shoved Blaise back around the corner. Blaise stumbled back into the wall but did not protest.

“Get my dad.” Harry said quietly. Before Blaise could protest, he continued. “You can’t be seen, remember? And I need someone I trust to look after my dad.”

Blaise frowned but nodded, turning back down the hallway. Harry released a small gust of air before straightening up, drawing up his shoulders in preparation. He focused fully on the enemies in front of him now that he had no one to worry about. With one hand, he raised his wand just as they finished climbing into the house and realized he was there.

“Stupefy.” Harry called out, firing at them. He managed to catch one of the Death Eaters in the chest before the other three ducked behind some debris and fired back. He used the wall as cover.

There was a loud rumbling sound and a sudden, small earthquake seemed to occur. The Death Eaters screamed in panic and Harry cautiously poked his head back around the corner. One of the Death Eaters was missing and the remaining two were cowering with their backs to Harry. He frowned in confusion before a loud roar could be heard.

Harry slammed his hands over his ears, his eyes closing automatically as he tried to block out the loud sound. When it finally ended, he opened his eyes and realized that all four of the Death Eaters were gone. A sudden movement from outside had him staring straight at the cause. Just poking inside the house was a large, grey-scaled snout. Large, sharp teeth were easily visible before the mouth closed and the snout retracted. Then, Harry could see the narrowed golden eyes of a dragon.

The dragon stared at him, seeming to regard him with consideration. This was the same dragon that he and Blaise had encountered the other day. That had spooked them, or at least Harry, into returning to the house. After a moment, it snorted and moved away from the hole in the wall. It backed away fully and took flight. Harry watched it fly off silently for several minutes.

“Harry?” Blaise asked from behind him. Harry jumped slightly in surprise and turned. Blaise looked rumpled, dusty and in a state of disarray Harry wasn’t used to seeing in his friend. His hair was scruffy, his clothes disorganized, dusty and ripped. There was a large gash over his right cheekbone which was still bleeding slightly. His hands were also scraped up and bleeding. Harry thought he saw some bits of plaster and wood caught in his clothing before Blaise did a hasty brush off.

“Are you alright? What happened? Where’s my dad?” Harry asked, hurrying over to him. Panic was starting to rise in him. If Blaise was hurt, then maybe he was in a fight with Death Eaters. If he was in a fight with Death Eaters, it may have been near his dad. If it was near his dad then his dad could be…

“Harry!” Blaise said loudly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Death Eaters do not have your dad.”

“They don’t?” Harry asked, gasping slightly. Blaise gently squeezed his shoulders before releasing him.

“They don’t have him.” Blaise said clearly and steadily. Harry relaxed and his breathing calmed.

“Oh good.” Harry said dazedly.

Blaise sighed, “What is it with you Potters and panic attacks?”

“Sorry.” Harry said sheepishly. He could feel himself calming down, his body beginning to feel heavy from exhaustion. Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Sure, apologize now. At least this time, I’m not being tossed into a wall.” He said, though the last part he said under his breath.

“What? My dad threw you into a wall?” Harry asked in astonishment. “Why?”

“How should I know? You Potters don’t seem to be the most logical out there at times.” Blaise said, rolling his right shoulder with a wince.

“Blaise…” Harry said quietly, worried. Blaise took in a deep breath and then slowly released it.

“I’m fine. Your dad left when I blacked out. I don’t know where he went to.” Blaise said.

“At least he’s not with Death Eaters.” Harry said. Then he narrowed his gaze to his companion. “You blacked out?”

Blaise winced. Clearly he had not intended to mention that. “Just for a few seconds. I’m fine.” He said.

Harry frowned at him but Blaise met his stare easily with one of his own. Finally, Harry broke the impromptu staring contest and grabbed Blaise firmly but gently by the arm.

“Come on.” He said, pulling the Italian teen down the hall with him.

“I am perfectly capable of walking without aid.” Blaise said, trying to pull his arm from Harry’s grasp. His intended point was ruined when he promptly stumbled over a piece of debris and Harry had to steady him.

“Perfectly, huh?” Harry asked in amusement. Blaise scowled slightly but said nothing.

They continued down the hall. In the background, Harry could hear explosions, shouting and screaming. Occasional tremors rocked the house. Blaise staggered a few times, much to Harry’s concern.

Harry carefully guided Blaise into a bedroom and sat him down on the bed. Blaise leaned forward, holding his head with both hands and breathing slowly and carefully. With Blaise’s head down, Harry could see a gleam of blood in his hair. Blaise had hit the wall hard enough to break the skin and knock him out.

Guilt gnawed at him. Blaise had been hurt because Harry had told him to get his dad. His dad, who is currently mentally suffering and not under the supervision or restraints that Blaise had suggested. Thus, Blaise was hurt because Harry had ignored his advice.

Something soft collided with his face. Harry gasped and stumbled back, his glasses pinching slightly as the object fell from his face. Harry caught it and instantly realized what it was. A pillow. He turned his gaze to his companion. Blaise was glaring at him.
“Enough with the panic attacks, Harry!” Blaise said in exasperation. He then promptly grimaced and rubbed at his temples.
“Sorry.” Harry said, looking contrite.

Maniacal laughter filtered in from the hallway and both boys looked towards the door. Harry stiffened and Blaise slowly began to stand. They exchanged glances before Harry carefully pushed Blaise back onto the bed and headed for the door. He crept out into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind him.

Down the hall, Harry could see the outline of a woman, backlit by the outside moonlight streaming in through a broken window. Although her face was angled away, Harry could see enough to identify her from wanted posters that he had seen. Bellatrix Lestrange. One of Voldemort’s most loyal followers. The one who tortured Neville’s parents into insanity. She could not find Blaise here. If word got back to Voldemort, then Blaise, himself, his dad and Clarie and the others would be in even more danger. Voldemort would surely be furious at Blaise’s refusal to follow him. With Blaise’s mother within his grasp, Voldemort held leverage over Blaise and Harry did not want his new friend to have to suffer through the loss of a mother. And certainly not because of Voldemort.

“Well, well, Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, here to greet me into his home himself?” Bellatrix laughed, her head thrown back as she did. It was apparent that she considered Harry to be no threat to her.

“This is my house.” Harry said agreeably, stalling for time. “What are you doing here?!”

“Has the little Potter gained a backbone?” She taunted, a dark smirk teasing at her lips. “You’re not going to cry are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Harry repeated slowly, his tone lowered. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, though her smirk grew.

“Master wants to see you.” She said. “I’m sure you’ll accept his gracious invitation.” She casually twirled a knife in between her fingers. Her entire aura appeared dark, dangerous and insane.

“Sorry, I don’t make house calls.” Harry said. His grip on his wand tightened enough for his knuckles to turn white.

Bellatrix laughed again and it almost seemed to end in a purr. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Potter.”

She walked down the hall towards him and he stiffened. A chill crept down his spine and the hairs of his neck raised. He determinedly pointed his wand at her but she was not deterred. She smiled a malicious, sly smile that brought out goose bumps on his skin. He broke out into a cold sweat, barely able to breathe. His eyes narrowed in determination. He wasn’t about to be stopped by her.

“Can you cast a spell before I hit you with this knife?” She asked, taunting and gleeful, holding up the knife so the metal glinted in the light.
Harry didn’t hesitate; he immediately raised his wand. “Stu-”

He dropped to the floor in shock and pain. His shoulder was burning and his head hurt from where it had connected with the floor. Above him, Bellatrix laughed. She lowered the wand she had been holding in her other hand as she walked over and knelt next to him. With a flick of her wrist, Harry’s wand skittered down the hallway, far out of reach.

“You didn’t really believe me, did you Potter?” Bellatrix asked. She pointed her wand towards his face, preparing to fire another spell.

She didn’t get the chance. Her mouth dropped open and she momentarily froze in place. Bellatrix choked slightly before dropping first to both her knees and then face down on the ground. She didn’t move. Harry stared at her for several moments before thinking to move away from her.

Above her, Clarie appeared and began removing all sorts of weapons from her person. When she finished, Clarie looked to Harry.

“Master Harry, you were to remain out of sight.” She said in disapproval. Harry winced but kept his head high.

“I couldn’t just wait around!” He said. Clarie regarded him silently for a moment before chuckling.

“You are very much like your parents, Master Harry.” She said. Harry blushed, his cheeks beginning to burn.

“Where are Masters Blaise and James?” Clarie asked. She waved her hand and ropes appeared, binding Bellatrix.

“Blaise is in there.” Harry said, pointing to the bedroom door. “He’s hurt. We don’t know where my dad is.”

Clarie froze for a moment. A single moment but it made a shiver run down Harry’s spine. He could not force words to form in his mouth, to ask the question he needed to ask. What did Clarie know about his father that made her hesitate? What was it that filled Harry with a sense of dread? In the midst of a battle in his own home, Harry was more worried about his father.

“Let us retrieve Master Blaise and I will take you to safety.” Clarie said a moment later. Harry nodded numbly, still unable to speak. If Clarie thought it odd, she did not comment on it.

Blaise was where Harry had left him, seated on the edge of the bed. He was holding a cloth to his head, pressing against the wound.

“Finished?” Blaise asked dryly. He removed the cloth and touched the area with a small wince. Harry was relieved to see only a little blood on Blaise’s hand. Clarie appeared just behind Blaise’s right shoulder and inspected the wound. With a snap of her fingers, the wound was carefully wrapped.

Blaise thanked her and stood carefully. He had to grab onto Harry’s shoulder to steady himself but was stubbornly standing on his own soon after. Neither Harry nor Clarie were surprised.

Clarie guided them both into the library and firmly informed them to stay put. She emphasized that they were not to leave the room no matter what. For some reason, her gaze seemed more affixed to Harry than to Blaise. Harry thought he should be offended, but his mind was so bizarrely full and twisted that he hardly protested.

“What about my dad?” Harry asked.

“He will be alright. He has taken it upon himself to seek sanctuary. Master James will be quite protected.” Clarie said vaguely but it was enough for Harry to relax a little. He sank down into a chair, feeling exhaustion, both mental and physical, begin to pull at him. Clarie left before he could say more.

“I don’t like sitting around and letting someone protect me.” Harry said.

“Imagine that the Boy-Who-Lived unwilling to put his life in another’s hands.” Blaise said wryly. His voice was muffled since he had cushioned his head on his arms, which were resting on the table. Harry’s glare, therefore, was entirely ineffective.

-------

James’ memories were blurred. They were a confusing, tangled mess of colours, sounds, images, physical feelings and strong scents that stopped him in his place. They were overwhelming, loud and obnoxious and impossible to ignore. They flooded his mind with repeated sensations that rapidly shifted between themselves with no voluntary input from him. They were going to drive him mad at this rate.

‘Or more mad, anyway’. James thought to himself. He most certainly was not in prime condition. Nor had he been in prime condition since that fateful day what seemed like eons ago.

It was both tiring and frustrating, trapped in his own memories and realizations. He had no control over them and he could barely gather any of his wits to properly think. Everything was overwhelming him but death took first place. Death seemed to be a permanent fixture in his mind. It clung to him like a persistent and pissed off pixie. His own death, with the flash of deadly green light that had ended him, repeatedly playing in his mind like his own personal muggle cinema. Over and over he watched as Voldemort murdered him, the sadistic gleam in his eyes, the taunts he spoke. Of going upstairs to kill his wife and son, of tracking down Remus and Sirius to torture and kill them, of Pettigrew and how he volunteered James’ location. And Voldemort had killed Lily and Harry, hadn’t he?

Lily was dead. She was dead and it was all his fault. If only he had been more prepared; if only he had refused to go into hiding and made them stay at the manor; if only he hadn’t gone along with Sirius’ plan to use Pettigrew as the secret keeper. He should have known Pettigrew would betray them. The signs had been there but had been overlooked. Pettigrew was too slow, weak and dim-witted to be much of a threat. He had little spirit and determination, failed almost all the time and clung to the Marauders like he’d be lost in despair without them. They had gotten him through school, helped him learn the proper spells and actions needed, taught him potions and gave him friends. They had been his everything. Without them, Pettigrew would have been nothing. And he had betrayed them all.

James wondered what had pushed Pettigrew to betray them. Did he secretly hate them? Had he wanted to be a dark wizard all this time? Why was he so willing to sell them out? James couldn’t understand it, but then, he wasn’t Pettigrew. Lily might have been able to understand but she was gone now. Because of him. Because of everyone.

Voldemort had physically killed her. Pettigrew had led Voldemort to her. Sirius had convinced them to use Pettigrew as the secret keeper. Remus had convinced them to use the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore convinced them to go into hiding. He, himself, couldn’t stop Voldemort in a duel. Everyone was at fault.

Harry wasn’t dead though. James attributed that to Lily. She was the smarted witch of their age. She would’ve found a way to keep their son alive. And now he was older, much older. He was a teenager now. With angsty eyes and a desperation that pulled at James’ heart. That made him want to gather his son to him and sing him to sleep like he’d done when Harry was still a baby.
Harry had the scent of death on him. It clung, holding Harry in its lifeless grasp. There was only one way to break it. James just needed to figure out how but he didn’t have time for that now. Now, he needed to protect himself from attackers and reach a safe haven.

With a faint wave of magic, James vanished into thin air.