Chapter Text
Prologue
October, 1995
Harry
Sometimes – not often, but sometimes he'd think about how utterly… strange, his life had become. Or maybe always was? Hard to say. Muggle Harry, who lived in tight-lipped suburban London was still there, still quirked an eyebrow when those around him didn't even shrug at how easy it was to kill yourself in Wizarding Britain, and would still wonder from time-to-time what Mrs. Weasley's diet had been when she was pregnant with the twins – as no way it had been the same as it was when she gave birth to Percy. No, clearly, the Weasley children had become more wicked, with every new arrival, with Ron being a slight improvement on Percy, the twins being – well, utterly and completely themselves, and Ginny – well – she had proven herself to be rather wicked, as well.
He was digressing.
The point was, Harry's life was rather strange, but perhaps that point was driven home when he went camping by the seaside with his three best mates, the twins' older brothers, Bill and Charlie, and their Headmaster, Dumbledore.
*
George told his older brothers, rather smugly, that he could produce better, more convincing copies of objects, and now, the three of them were competing to recreate Charlie's watch. Dumbledore sat nearby, grinning; he was a big fan of, what he would call, 'healthy competition'.
"Hermione?" He smiled at her, as she sat on a nearby stone, amused, "would you like to try your hand at this as well?"
"No, he already knows I'm better than him," she grinned.
George, who was standing between Charlie and Bill, wands at the ready, turned his head back to look at her, eyebrow raised. "Do I?"
"You do," she grinned back.
With an amused eye roll, he went back to his pissing contest with his brothers. Harry and Fred exchanged grins. George usually wasn't so smug – it probably had to do with how thrilling it was to finally hit the road, maybe it went to his head a bit.
In the background, the sea continued its dance against the cliffs, loud and monotonous, and the sky was grey and cloudy, as if a storm was brewing. They were on a flat surface, halfway to the bottom of the cliff, where Dumbledore knew the cave was.
"How do we do this?" Charlie asked.
"I cast first, you next, then the cocky baby over here," Bill smirked at George. "We measure it by whose watch is more accurate. If your watch doesn't even work, that's an automatic loss."
"McGonagall said I'm a prodigy, you know," George grinned.
"She said it about both you and Hermione," Harry told him, "and she didn't say prodigy. She said that such healthy competition produced masters in the past –"
"Tomato, tomato," George said impatiently, "go on then," he told Bill.
Bill stared intently at the watch, and waved his wand in a circle. A grey jet of light hit the watch, and it multiplied – landing neatly next to the original. Bill stepped forward quickly and raised a triumphant fist. "It's only about – about five seconds late!"
"Five whole seconds?" George grinned.
"You are playing a very risky game, you know," Hermione told him, "you'd better succeed now."
"Don't worry your pretty little head," he laughed. She rolled her eyes in response.
Fred, who was lying on the ground next to Harry, their heads on their backpacks, charmed a small rock to poke Charlie's leg. Every time Charlie kicked it away, Fred waited thirty seconds or so, and placed it under his other leg. It was diabolical – there were so many little rocks around, that Charlie couldn't possibly tell that it was the same rock bothering him.
Maybe it was why Charlie's version of the copied watch looked perfect, but…
"The dials aren't moving," Bill couldn't hide his smirk as he looked at Charlie, "sorry mate."
Fred gave up the pretence and made the rock chase Charlie around, slamming into his arse every few seconds, and he whirled around and glared at Fred. "Really? Do you think that just because you're my little brother, I wouldn't throw one straight back at you?"
"No throwing rocks, please," Dumbledore smiled, "let's… keep it civil."
Fred grinned at Charlie, and Charlie gave him a warning look and then went back inside the tent.
"Well?" Bill nudged George's shoulder.
George stood in front of the rock the watch was on, a serious expression replacing the smug smirk, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He waved his wand in a full, round circle and said very clearly, "Geminio Singularis!"
It did work, insofar as a watch appeared on the stone next to the original. Both Bill and George walked forward, and George cheered.
"I won!"
"You did not – it's a tie – look!"
"It's not – mine is ahead by at least a second!"
"It is not!" Harry had never seen Bill be so… petulant. It was amusing. Hermione and Fred must have thought so too as they hid their laughter behind their hands.
"Right, let's have a look," Dumbledore stood up swiftly. As he approached, both Bill and George stepped back, giving him access. Dumbledore held both copies up in the air, Bill's and George's, and then… With a big smile, he held George's higher. "I'm sorry, William –"
"YES!" George erupted into laughter.
Bill, scowling, took both copies and with a flick of his wand they both vanished.
"I am the most talented sibling!" George was laughing hysterically.
"You are not," three voices said together. Fred stood up, raising an eyebrow at him, though he was mostly amused.
"In, in Transfiguration," George smiled back, "definitely not in Potions –"
"Or in Defence!" Charlie's voice said from inside the tent, "and trust me, you don't want me to prove it!"
"You are way too cocky for a fifteen-year-old," Bill looked down at his brother, who wasn't much shorter than him, "I worry. You know, for those forced to spend too much time with you."
When all eyes moved to Hermione (even Dumbledore's, to Harry's amusement), she laughed softly. "He's not that bad, usually. I think the salty sea air is doing a number on him."
"Or maybe it's the mountain air – not enough oxygen," Harry laughed, "not enough to fuel his bigheadedness."
"Oi!" George said, but laughed. Then he patted Bill's shoulder. "If I'm being fair now, and not, er, conceited, well, two years ago I spent around three months doing little besides making copies of a plastic aeroplane, so, er, I've had practice."
Bill's face softened. He rolled his eyes and joined his younger brother inside the tent.
George plopped down next to Hermione on her stone. Dumbledore was suddenly standing above Harry and Fred. He was watching the horizon.
"A storm is approaching."
Harry looked too. It seemed like one was. A specific cluster of clouds, swirling together, seemed imminent and ominous.
"Would we be safe inside the tent, Headmaster?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, Hermione – though, if we play our cards right, we can be gone before that. But, alternatively, we can stay here for a couple more days, if that would give you enough time to complete your assignments," and he looked from her to Fred.
The notoriously unserious Fred nodded back solemnly. "I'm waiting the obligatory hour before going back to it – but it's almost ready."
"In the meantime, I want you two to go back to your assignment," he told George and Hermione, who nodded, "and you, Harry – let's go. Please call Bill and Charlie."
Harry was rather proud to be skilled enough for the first line of defence, along with the twins' older brothers, and the strongest wizard to ever live. It was good company.
Hermione and George did a very tedious task – they conjured rocks, and threw them into an extension-charmed bag. Harry would have lost his mind from boredom – but they seemed fine. They tried to see which one of them could create the biggest one – and each time they produced a particularly large one, George would pick it up and throw it into the bag.
Fred, after checking his watch, went into the tent with Harry. "Wake up, lazy git," he said, kicking Charlie who was napping in a hammock. Charlie almost fell off and hit his head – and with a growl he waved his wand and ten different forks started to chase Fred around the room, their sharp teeth pointed straight at his arse.
Harry would have probably found this threat kind of scary – but Fred was laughing his head off. He didn't have time to cancel the charm, so he just escaped them.
When one came extremely close to piercing him through his trousers, Bill waved his wand and they clattered to the ground. "Do you imagine Mum would be particularly pleased if you impaled him, Charlie?"
"Do you imagine she'd be particularly pleased I'm here at all, given how she still thinks I'm nothing more than an ordinary, albeit slightly demonic, underage student?" Fred grinned cheekily as he sat down in front of his cauldron, picking up his notebook in which he had written the recipe. "Fancy that," he chuckled, "if that storm pushes us off the cliff, she'd lose four of her boys at once!"
Harry pictured Mrs. Weasley's grief-stricken face too clearly to be amused; but Bill and Charlie laughed with him.
Bloody Weasleys…
"Right," Harry said then, "Dumbledore wants us to go down the cliff and see what's there," he told Bill and Charlie.
"Fun times," Charlie said dryly, and then grabbed a butterbeer from the fridge in the kitchen. When he saw the three of them watching him, he shrugged. "You don't think he'd mind?"
"You drinking butterbeer while we try to destroy a piece of Voldemort's soul?" Harry laughed, "sounds precisely like the kind of thing he'd find amusing, actually."
"Yeah, bring me one as well," Bill leaned over the kitchen island, holding out a hand. Charlie brought one for Harry too, without him having to ask, which was nice of him.
The three of them joined Dumbledore, who raised an eyebrow at them. "Does this look appropriate to you, boys?"
Bill and Charlie exchanged a look. Harry, though, understood his meaning immediately and said, "Accio Butterbeer!" He handed Dumbledore the bottle as soon as he caught it. "There you go, Headmaster."
"Much better, Harry," he smiled approvingly, and the four of them made to climb down to the cave.
"Oi!" Fred yelled from inside the tent, "do you mind not getting killed? Taking down this tent alone would be a real pain!"
"We're touched by your care for us, prat," Bill laughed.
"I should have stuck that fork in his arse after all," Charlie grumbled as he followed Harry down.
Soon afterwards they reached the sea, and without a word, Dumbledore jumped in, swimming forward forcefully and elegantly. Harry glanced at the eldest Weasley siblings to see if they were as surprised as he was, and they grinned back and pushed him into the water.
*
To an outsider, especially to a Muggle, it would look as if the four of them did nothing, just stood at the entrance to the dark cave and waved sticks. But in reality – Harry stood aside and watched the three of them employ impressive magic with immense skill.
At first, Bill waved his wand multiple times, each time saying aloud a few phrases Harry hurried to scribble on a sheet of parchment he brought with him.
"A body of water," Bill said. "Bodies," he added then.
"Inside the body of water?" Dumbledore asked him.
Bill frowned in concentration. He waved his wand again and then nodded.
"What else?" Dumbledore urged.
"Well – hang on," and Bill shot a couple of sparks from his wand, and then gave Dumbledore a small, bitter smile. "Are you surprised, Headmaster?"
"I am not, Bill," he smiled back, "rather crude, but very characteristic."
"Which one of us should do it, then?" Bill asked in a matter-of-fact voice.
"What is it?" Charlie asked them.
"To open the cave, we need to smear blood on – which one of the rocks is it, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore patted the cave's wall in a practised, slow movement, his expression serious. "This one," he finally touched a rock, on the left side of the cave.
"You said – you said bodies in a body of water?" Charlie asked Bill, frowning. When Bill nodded, Charlie looked back at Dumbledore. "Inferi. Must be."
"I tend to agree," Dumbledore smiled, almost sadly, "he really is quite barbaric, is he not?"
"Inferi," Bill shuddered. Then he looked at Harry, almost critically. "Well, mate, that means you're out – especially if it means the other two menaces won't get any ideas."
"No way, I'm coming," Harry objected.
"Well – there's power in numbers – and it goes both ways. The smaller the group, the more dynamic – the bigger, the more diverse and capable," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid, Bill, that ever since the Quartet cemented themselves as a force to be reckoned with, and then gathered around them a group of such capable wizards and witches such as yourselves, the advantage of greater numbers has won rather decisively."
Bill closed his eyes and hissed in frustration.
Charlie rubbed his face and said, "the storm is nearing, and Fred isn't yet done with the potion. We would be wiser to wait for the potion. Let's go back, and we'd be in a better position after the storm has passed. The sea – we shouldn't be so close to it when that storm reaches us."
"Good point, Charlie," Dumbledore nodded, "let's go back."
George and Hermione were done. Proudly, Hermione handed the headmaster the bag.
Fred was done too – according to him it just needed to sit for a night, and it'd be ready.
The four of them brought the twins and Hermione up to speed. After a quick explanation of the nature of Inferi, the twins were eager to go, and Hermione was decidedly not.
"Merlin," she fretted, "a body of water – surely, you need to sail somewhere to get to it? With the water filled with Inferi?" And she turned pleading eyes to George. His smile faded.
"It'd be fine," he said, but didn't sound convincing enough to ease her worry.
"While the power of greater numbers is great and all, we need a good reserve group, and I nominate – you four," Bill looked at the Quartet. The twins and Harry bristled.
"Look," Charlie, ever the practical one, said calmly, "George, Hermione, and I will wait outside. We'd use a Patronus to communicate if you four need help. That way, they have me if anything goes wrong, and Fred and Harry have you two."
George seemed disappointed, but at Hermione's clear relief, he didn't argue. Harry and Fred exchanged triumphant smiles when Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Now, we'll take tonight to wait out the storm, and reconvene in the morning. Well, while this has been very pleasant, I do actually have things requiring my attention at Hogwarts – can I leave you six here and join you in the morning?"
They all nodded. He smiled back, stepped outside and soon Disapparated.
Bill and Charlie cooked; the four of them set the table.
After eating, they sat in the sitting room. George and Hermione on the sofa, Bill swung in the hammock, Charlie and Fred on the two armchairs and Harry on the wicker chair. Dumbledore's tent was very impressive – unlike the tent they used at the World Cup with the Weasleys, this one had two floors, comfortable chairs, rugs from wall to wall, and furniture that seemed expensive and well-maintained.
Bill dozed off. Hermione did too. George and Charlie were playing Wizarding Chess.
Harry and Fred took to one of the corners with butterbeers. Fred spread his long legs, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, unseeing; Harry took a couple of gulps while his mind wandered to Ginny, as it did often these days.
A thunderstorm raged outside the tent's windows, but the tent itself remained dry with Dumbledore's water-repellent charms and probably a great many other protections besides.
A rather nasty bolt of lightning made them all start; Hermione jumped awake and then got up blearily and came to sit down next to Harry on the floor, accepting a butterbeer from Fred with a smile.
"I look back sometimes," she said, hugging the butterbeer to her chest, "it's kind of… well, mental, everything we've been through these past couple of years, isn't it?"
Harry couldn't help but agree. Fred raised his butterbeer in a silent salute.
"I've been thinking about what you said, Fred," she then said. She waved her wand, and a notebook flew into her hand. Harry knew she had been practising silent magic, and she seemed to have been making good progress. "Prolonging a potion's duration. I thought about how to go about it. You know, is there a charm or a spell for it, could one be developed, or is it something that can be done with an ingredient?"
"The thing about Harry's cloak is its permanence," Fred said, "it has lasted generations, and I don't think the magic would ever wear off. In a sense, it's like the magic built into some buildings, like Hogwarts – or the magic inherent in a wizard. Because other magic has an expiry date."
"What about your mum's clock?" Harry asked.
"Right – see, but it's something about those magical heirlooms. They have something that most magical items don't. Permanence. We can create a genuinely powerful object, and we're on our way there, but it would be useless if it wears off," Fred said.
"Don't we need it for just that one time though? Just for that final battle?" Hermione countered, "we recognised how it could potentially go wrong. Isn't it better to limit its reach?"
"Not if you want to be remembered as one of the greats, eh, Freddie?" George joined their conversation easily. Charlie seemed to have gone to bed.
"And if I do, what's wrong with that?" Fred leaned his head against the tent's wall. "Don't see any reason to pretend like I'm humble. I'm not. But it's not about me specifically, is it? It's about us – our formation. It going down in history."
"If we genuinely stop You-Know-Who –" Hermione started to say.
"Voldemort," they all corrected her reflexively.
"If we genuinely stop Voldemort," she said in frustration, "we will go down in history anyway. No reason to create something as powerful as the Elder Wand and be responsible for multiple deaths."
"But that's the thing, isn't it?" George smiled at her, "our artefact would be inherently protective. There's hardly any way to use it for evil, it only protects against it."
"What if a child fires something dangerous at another child?" She challenged.
"Why is that child hurling Unforgivables?" Fred crossed his arms. "Nasty child who deserves what he gets."
Hermione frowned at him.
Harry nodded and rubbed his hands together. "We'll sleep on it. George – any progress with the mirror effect?"
"Still too weak – and it's going to be harder to find a way to test it… You know, run the risk of hitting myself with something nasty…"
"You could just roll over and hope for the best," Fred grinned at him.
George laughed. "Well –"
"No," Hermione swatted both of them, glaring at George, "no, what if it sends it back inaccurately? You're absolutely not testing it, you git!" She shrieked.
She was loud enough to make Bill stir and then eye them with suspicion. "What are you four up to?"
"Nothing," they all said together.
"Right. I don't believe that, but," and he got up, rubbing his eyes, "I've got myself into very weird, very dangerous situations just by trying to help you. So if you don't want to tell me, maybe that's better for me. I just hope you're not daft enough to go against Dumbledore."
"No – we'd never!" Fred said hurriedly. Which made it quite… unbelievable.
The truth was they would tell Dumbledore. Obviously. But they'd better make some progress first. After all, you only truly advance once you're willing to do most of the work yourself, and overcome the hurdles yourself. Dumbledore taught them that himself.
"He has Quidditch instincts, Hermione, he'd be fine!" Fred grinned at her after Bill went to bed. Now Harry joined their laughter as Hermione glared daggers at him.
Finally, she shrugged, pretending to consider his words. "Hmm. Quidditch instincts. You're right, Fred. Honestly, it's just shooting curses at it – you're all good at that. No reason for George to test it – you could test it too. After all, your Quidditch instincts are just as good as his, right?"
"They're better," Fred said smugly.
George snorted. "Right," he hugged both of their shoulders, "that's enough now, children. No one is testing it impulsively, I'll find a way to do so without anyone accidentally killing themselves. I always find a way…"
Both Hermione and Fred rolled their eyes.
"No," Hermione said in an angry whisper, glaring at George, "There will be no testing until Headmaster Dumbledore knows about it. And he'll find a way to do it properly. Until then, none of you will test on yourselves anything stronger than a Petrificus Totalus."
"And if you do – well – we'd probably leave you there to rot for at least a day," Harry smirked at them.