Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
Harry sat in the Great Hall a few days after returning to Hogwarts from the Christmas break, fighting to stay conscious and upright. It was becoming harder by the minute. Blood loss, exhaustion, and the lingering effects of what his relatives had done over the holidays left him weak and unable to keep food down.
Dumbledore had forced him to return to Privet Drive instead of letting him stay with Moony and Padfoot. The headmaster’s excuse was that, because Harry had not spent enough time there over the summer, the blood wards had weakened and needed to be strengthened before they failed completely.
On top of everything else, Harry was dealing with painful cramps that felt as if claws were tearing through his lower stomach. Madam Pomfrey had explained that he was a bearer, meaning he could carry and give birth to his own children. Unlike women, who usually bled for about a week and sometimes cramped once a month, male bearers did not bleed. Instead, they could suffer cramps for up to three weeks every three months. The intensity depended on the strength of the person’s magical core: the larger the core, the worse the pain, especially for unmated males. As with all Wixen, the pain would lessen once the mating bond with a soulmate was accepted.
Draco’s POV
Draco had enjoyed the Yule holiday, but something kept nagging at the back of his mind. His instincts insisted that something was wrong. He was almost certain it had something to do with his submissive, though he had no idea who that person was.
Whoever they were, they were in terrible pain, and that pain echoed down the faint, ghost-like thread of a mate bond that had not yet fully formed. Unable to make sense of it, Draco tried to convince himself he was being paranoid. He carried on with his holiday, spending time with his friends and family, and then returned to school as if nothing was wrong.
Blaise’s POV
Blaise spent a good Yule break in Italy with his mama. They visited the local village to shop and spent time on the beach in front of their home. Even so, he could not shake the feeling that something was changing within him and within his mates.
He knew he had two mates, and he was fairly sure Draco was one of them. But the connection to his submissive felt wrong. The bond had not been recognised yet, so he should not have been able to feel anything from them. Instead, since his birthday, all he had felt was pain and loneliness. He had no idea how to help, only that his chest tightened whenever the pain and despair grew worse.
A few days after returning to Hogwarts, Draco sat in the Great Hall for dinner, talking with Blaise and Theo. For some reason, he kept glancing towards the Gryffindor table. Something was not right over there, and from the knowing look Blaise gave him, Draco suspected he felt it too.
Something was wrong with Harry no, Potter. Draco did not understand why he kept thinking of him as Harry. They were rivals; he should not be using his first name, even in his own head. But things had been different since the start of fifth year. Potter had become quieter, more withdrawn, and noticeably less close to the rest of the Golden Trio and Ginny Weasley.
At first, Draco had assumed Potter was up to something. Then, just before the holidays, he and Blaise had seen a slightly cracked door on their way to the Slytherin common room. Curious in case they found useful information, they looked inside. What they found was Potter healing his hand. As he worked, a glamour dropped one they had not even known he was wearing. The fact that he had hidden it so well showed an impressive amount of skill.
When Potter turned around, he looked nothing like the boy Draco thought he knew. Draco could not stop wondering what was going on, why Potter was hiding his appearance, and who else knew about the glamour. He was confident no one on the Light side did, especially since the incantation Potter had whispered sounded distinctly dark.
Harry’s POV
Harry sat with Neville, Seamus, and Dean, grateful for the YOGA group he secretly ran away from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Dumbledore. He still led the DA, but mostly as a cover so they would not pressure him. The YOGA group welcomed students from every house. They studied a wide range of subjects, practised yoga and other exercises, and spent time together away from outside expectations. Harry trusted them. They were true friends.
That trust had mattered even more since his fifteenth birthday, when everything had changed. He had woken up looking different more like himself than he ever had before. Moony had taught him a complex glamour to hide the change, but his appearance was not the only difference. His senses had sharpened, and he noticed things he had missed before.
Something about Ron, Hermione, and Ginny felt wrong. Around them, Harry’s magic felt too tight, as if it were trying to break free and remove a threat. His instincts warned him in the same way they did around Molly, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and several other members of the Order people he was supposed to trust. What confused him most was that he felt the exact opposite around people he had always been told to hate.
Harry was pulled from his thoughts when a storm erupted across the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Thunder cracked loudly enough to shake the room, and beautiful bolts of lightning flashed in shades of pink, blue, purple, and gold. Each strike hit the same spot, where a tornado of smoke began forming in the centre of the hall.
As the bolts grew brighter, Harry’s bearer instincts went haywire, pulling him towards the tornado. The sensation confused him. It felt like what he had read about when bearers sensed their children, but Harry did not have children at least, not yet so he should not have been feeling it at all.
When the smoke finally settled and cleared, five young children stood in its place, visibly scared and confused. Harry’s breath caught. They looked almost exactly like he did without his glamour, though he could not quite place who else they resembled.
He was so focused on the children that he missed the reactions spreading through the rest of the hall especially those of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Both Slytherins looked stunned. They could feel a sire bond tying them to the children, along with a strained bond to their submissive. It felt as though that bond was fighting to break free, but it also carried a sharp current of pain, and that worried both dominants.
Then Dumbledore stood, drawing the children’s attention. When they looked at him, he said, “Hello, children. Who are you, and, if I may ask, how did you get here?”
Around Harry, whispers rippled through the Great Hall variations of “Is he serious?” and “They’re clearly Potter’s.” The headmaster did not seem to hear them. He simply watched the children, eyes twinkling, and waited for an answer.
The two oldest children stepped forward first, shoulders squared as they positioned themselves protectively in front of the younger three.
The boy spoke first. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have no idea how we got here. Where are we or should I say, when are we? This does not look like our time.”
“It is currently a few days after the students returned to Hogwarts from Christmas break,” Dumbledore began, but the girl cut him off before he could say more.
“How in Merlin’s name are we in Hogwarts?” she demanded, sneering as she turned to her brother. “Mama is going to be furious. He swore we would never have to come here and endure the nonsense of the British Wixen world. What do we do?”
The boy smirked. “Mama is going to raise hell when he finds out. Hopefully Papa and Father can calm him down.”
The children shared a quiet chuckle, but it faded when Umbridge cleared her throat.
“I demand that you give us your names and explain how you got here,” she snapped.
At once, the children’s expressions hardened into perfect pure-blood masks cold, controlled, and far too practiced for children so young.
“You demand?” the oldest girl asked, her voice sharp as ice. “And who are you to demand anything from us?”
Umbridge lifted her chin. “I am Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, and you will not disrespect me in this hall. You will tell us what we want to know this instant.”
The two oldest children exchanged identical smirks.
“Very well,” the boy said. “We will take turns introducing ourselves. My name is Ares Orion Potter-Malfoy-Zabini. I am twelve years old and the firstborn son of Hadrian James Potter-Riddle-Black-Prince, crowned prince of the wizarding world; Draconis Lucius Malfoy; and Blaise Antonio Zabini.”
Gasps swept through the Great Hall. Before anyone could speak, the oldest girl stepped forward.
“I am Athena Cassiopeia Potter-Malfoy-Zabini,” she said. “I am also twelve. We are twins, and I am the second-born child of the Dark Lords Hades (Hadrian) Hypnos (Draco) and Thanatos (Blaise).”
More shocked whispers rushed through the room as the next boy introduced himself.
“Apollo Oberon Potter-Malfoy-Zabini,” he said. “I am eight years old and the thirdborn child of Hadrian, Draco, and Blaise. This is my twin sister, Artemis Lyra Potter-Malfoy-Zabini. She is the fourth-born. She does not like the colours surrounding some of the people here, so she will not speak.”
That worried Harry. He could sense some of the same unpleasant auras in the room, and Artemis’s silence only confirmed that something was very wrong.
The whispers grew louder, until a tiny, sweet voice cut through them.
“I’m Hestia Nova Potter-Malfoy-Zabini,” the youngest said proudly. “I’m four, and I’m the youngest of Mama, Papa, and Father.”
A wave of soft coos passed through the hall. Even with the tension thick in the air, Hestia was undeniably adorable.
Harry stared at the children as though they held the answers to every wrong, restless feeling he had ever carried about himself. Slowly, he looked around the Great Hall to make sure everyone else was seeing what he was seeing.
At the staff table, most of the professors looked shocked or deeply interested. Snape, however, looked as if he had been struck in the head by a Bludger. Dumbledore’s expression was far worse. He looked furious. McGonagall looked disgusted, and Umbridge appeared ready to explode.
The reaction sent another wave of stunned silence through the hall. Dumbledore’s anger sharpened into rage, while Umbridge began ranting that the children were obviously part of a trap Harry had set to draw attention to himself and that she intended to prove it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the shock on Malfoy and Zabini’s faces. He turned his head and met their eyes, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.
Then something twinged sharply in his mind.
Harry followed the sensation and saw Dumbledore draw his wand, aiming it directly at the children.
He did not think. In the blink of an eye, Harry moved in front of the children and raised the strongest shield he could manage, creating a solid barrier between them and everyone else in the Great Hall.
Behind him, Prongs stayed close to the children, offering what comfort and protection he could.