Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A sneak peek:

“SNAPE!” Theodore shouted from upstairs. “GET YOUR CHILD UNDER CONTROL!”

Severus groaned as he looked mournfully down at his freshly brewed cappuccino. Reheated cappuccinos just were not the same. Severus had yet to have a fresh one since summer began, which he blamed solely on Potter.

“What is the problem now?” Severus sighed as he entered the boys’ room.

... and immediately saw for himself what the problem was.

“Absolute not,” Severus snapped. “Harry, where on Earth did you acquire a King Cobra?”

Potter was laying on his bed, tenderly wrapped up in the grip of a ten foot long, dark brown cobra. Worse yet, Potter was hissing at it lovingly in Parsletongue.

“I needed him,” Potter said casually, easily switching back to English. “Timmy has a snake. So I’m going to use Stevie to kill Nagini.”

“Where did you get it?” Severus repeated, ignoring the deplorable name Potter chose.

‘Sevvie’ ‘Stevie’ ‘Mister Snoop’.

Severus wished his ward would quit mocking his name at every given chance. It was hardly as if he chose it  

Additionally, Severus also prayed that Potter did not receive an opportunity to name a child any time soon.

“What’s going on?” Barty asked, poking his head in the room behind Severus. “MERLIN! Is that a King Cobra?”

“Yup.” Potter stroked the cobra’s head gently as it hissed loudly at Severus and Barty. “His name’s Stevie.”

“He’s brilliant,” Barty sighed, eyeing the reptile with the look of a man intent upon learning all there was to know about the venomous and deadly snake in their home.

“Snape, he’s trying to keep it in here!” Theodore cried, huddling carefully as far from Potter as possible while still remaining in the same room. “Tell him he can’t keep a King Cobra in our bedroom! It’ll kill me in my sleep!”

“Not if I tell him not to,” Potter said. The three others watched as Potter switched to Parsletongue and began carrying on a conversation with the deadly serpent.

“He says he won’t kill you unless I tell him to,” Potter smiled sweetly at Theodore after the snake hissed back at Potter. “So it’s fine.”

“IT IS NOT FINE!” Theodore shouted shrilly. “HERMIONE WON’T COME OVER WHILE ITS HERE! SNAPE! HE IS YOUR PSYCHOTIC TEENAGER - THIS IS ENTIRELY YOUR PROBLEM!”

Severus sighed heavily as Theodore shoved past him and stormed down the stairs.

Miss Granger refusing to return to their home was almost reason enough to allow Potter to keep the snake. If Frederick Weasley held the same qualms, it would seal the deal.

Though, Severus was quite sure that any fool who fell in love with a dangerous young man such as Potter would hardly fear one of the largest and most deadly snakes in the world.

“I think we should keep it,” Barty said as he took a few slow steps towards Potter and the snake. “It’ll be like a guard venomous snake for our family.”

“We are not a family,” Severus sighed. Although, he was beginning to feel as if he were an exhausted parent with the three mad housemates he had to protect and raise.

“Exactly!” Potter beamed at Barty after rolling his eyes at Severus. “I knew you’d get it.”

Of course Barty ‘got it’. Because he was as mentally ill, and possibly deranged, as Potter was.

Which meant that Severus had to find a way to convince Potter to get rid of the cobra.

Apparently without the assistance of the other adult in the household.

“Where did it come from Harry?” he repeated once more, quite sternly.

Severus groaned out loud at Potter’s suddenly evasive look and mentally corrected his previous thought:

Severus then had to find a way to convince Potter to get rid of the definitely illegally imported, dangerous cobra.

~~~

“Have you lost your god damned mind?!” Severus yelled, drawing the eyes of Potter’s friends from their gathering place around Potter.

“What?” Lucius said defensively, sharing a bewildered look with Barty, who shrugged at him helplessly. “Potter likes weapons! He has a whole wall of them! You let him take Pettigrew’s dagger! What’s the problem here?”

Severus absolutely did not ‘let Potter’ steal a dagger from the man he killed last month.

However, that issue was quite aside the point at present.

“The problem is that you have gifted my impulsive fifteen year old with a semi-automatic pistol,” Severus seethed.

“Which is a weapon... right?” Lucius clarified slowly. “I know it’s a muggle thing, but Borgin assured me of its rarity in the magical world and I thought Potter may enjoy it? How is it different from the knives, swords, and spears?”

“Will it even work then? If it’s a muggle weapon?” Barty asked curiously, eyeing the gun Potter was awkwardly handling. “If it’s a muggle thing, it might not, right? Because of the high concentration of magic?”

BANG!

“It works!” Potter cried with a blindingly bright smile.

Severus looked at the fucking hole in the wall of their house and felt his eye beginning to twitch. He wondered which was the bigger threat to his life:

Attempting to raise Harry God Damned Potter, or being in the top three of the Dark Lord’s ‘to kill’ List?

Definitely Potter, he decided quickly as Potter tossed an apple to Ronald Weasley and Severus immediately had to step in to stop what was supposed to be ‘a brill idea’ that Potter ‘saw in a movie with Susan’.

Chapter Text

“Roll call!”

“We aren’t having a roll call, Hermione,” Harry sighed and shook his head. “I think everyone knows who everyone else is.”

“Uh...” Fred glanced at Barty, who was under Polyjuice once again. Though it was at least a similar look to his actual looks that Harry finally saw when he returned from Hogwarts. Harry had stolen a ton of hairs from the first blonde haired, blue eyed, tall, muggle man he found when he traveled out to London after visiting Gringott's Bank the prior morning.

“Bart,” Harry said, gesturing lazily toward Barty. “This is Bart Doe.”

“Harry,” Susan rolled her eyes at him, “are we really not meant to know that’s Barty Crouch Junior?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Barty sniffed. “And I’m insulted to have my identity questioned by you.”

“Yeah because we’re idiots, mate,” Ron sighed. “We know it’s Barty.”

“Bart,” Fred corrected his brother with an easy smile. “Harry said his name’s Bart and that’s that.”

“Can we move this along?” Snape asked drily. “I believe I get enough of your bickering in the school term.”

“Fine.” Harry turned to Hermione, the official secretary of the gang. “We know who is here, who isn’t here?”

“Blaise Zabini, the Contessa Zabini, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione recited the names promptly from memory.

“Where’s the Malfoys?” Ron asked around a mouthful of pastry that Mavis kept piling on their meeting table.

Even though Harry specifically told Mavis not to bring pastries to the meeting table because it was for meetings.

Mavis never fuckin’ listens. How am I meant to run a country if I can’t even keep pastry crumbs off my parchments? Harry thought irritably, wiping the aforementioned crumbs off his stack of parchments.

“Draco and Narcissa are with Blaise and Juliana hiding out in Italy,” Luna said. “Timmy moved in the Malfoy Manor and knows Draco is allied to Harry so Draco can’t go home and Cissa won’t leave him behind.”

Harry felt a pinch of guilt for causing Cissa and Draco to effectively become homeless, but he’d offered to help find them a place to stay.

“Absolutely not,” Cissa sniffed at the platform when the students returned from Hogwarts. “I am a Black and a Malfoy, I am perfectly capable of finding a suitable temporary home for me and Draco.”

“And by that she means the Contessa already invited us to stay with her and Mother can’t wait to go shopping in Italy,” Draco said with a sarcastic twist of his lips. 

“Is that not what I just said?” Cissa asked innocently as she examined her fresh manicure. 

So it wasn’t like they were going without because Harry kept Lucius on as a spy. Their family was divided temporarily, but Harry would make sure they were safely reunited once Timmy was dead.

“What about Neville?” Fred asked. “I assume Fleur, Viktor, and the Zabinis are just out of the country, but we could have snagged Nev on our way here.”

“They are,” Luna confirmed about the missing foreign gang members. “But Neville wasn’t invited on account of Bart being here and Harry wasn’t sure how he’d immediately react.”

Harry sighed at Luna’s never ending honestly. Really, what was the point of the polyjuice for the meeting if everyone seemed to just know it was Barty sitting at the table? Not that anyone acted like they cared at all, not after Harry said Barty was innocent of all previous wrongdoings anyway.

It wasn’t really Harry’s problem if that was true or not, as long as Barty knew better than to torture anyone else without Harry’s okay in the future.

Sirius turned his head to gape at Luna after she had finished explaining about their missing members.

“How do you know that?” he asked, not as used to Luna’s connection to the nargles as the rest of the group was.

“Harry told me,” Luna smiled. “Well, actually I spoke with Fleur and Viktor when they left last year and Draco told me he was going on vacation in Italy with his mother this summer. He asked me to go with them, but I’d much rather stay here.”

“Good call,” Barty told her seriously. “Vacationing with Narcissa is a terrible experience. Isn’t it, Sev?”

“Yeah, Sev?” Harry grinned across the table to his guardian. “Is it terrible, Sev? Just awful?”

“Get to the point of this meeting, now, Harry,” Snape practically growled. “There is only so much patience I am willing to extend for this charade.”

“It’s not a charade, sir,” Theo scowled. “We’ve got real information to share now and plans to make, don’t we. Harry?”

“We do,” Harry said, straightening up in his seat and adopting a more solemn expression. “We actually have a lot to go over today, so we might as well get to it. Everyone should know that Sirius, Lupin, and Bart have all officially sworn in. Everyone here is officially in the gang and have vowed to not share what we talk about during meetings. So, Sirius, your information first.”

Sirius sat upright as everyone seated around the large table set in the backyard turned their attention to him.

“Moony and I were invited to rejoin the Order of the Phoenix two days ago, after the train left Hogwarts, by Albus,” Sirius said, ignoring the multiple scowls and sneers he got for that. “Which we did, because Harry asked me to,” he winked at Harry cheerfully.

Harry suspected that Sirius had waited his whole life to he a spy. He was just so bloody excited he had all but begged Harry for the chance.

Which Harry graciously accepted.

“We had the first meeting yesterday, and they’re using my parents old house —”

“Grimmauld Place?” Barty asked. “You’re joking! You gave it to Dumbledore?!”

“He asked,” Sirius shrugged. “And I couldn’t think of a good excuse to say no on the spot. Plus I was just going to sell it later anyway.”

“But the books,” Barty whined. “The Black Library has so many books. And you know that Dumbledore will burn them all!”

Hermione gasped, clearly and amusingly appalled at the mere thought.

“Mum is mad about clearing all the ‘dark artifacts’ from the house,” Fred said, Ron nodding along with him. “We’re apparently staying there this summer.”

“Why?” Snape asked, one brow lifted in curiosity.

“Er,” Fred glanced uneasily at Harry, knowing Harry was frustrated that the entire Weasley family felt like they were in danger just by being associated with Harry.

“Well... Dumbledore reckons the Weasleys might be a big target of Timmy’s and... and I think he wants as many of us as close to him as he can get. He’s a bit obsessed with you, Darlin’.”

“Pains of fame,” Harry quipped with a grin at Ron. “Mione, write down ‘Black Library’ and ‘dark artifacts’ under our to do list.”

“Do I put those before or after kill Timmy and torture Dumbledore?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“Before,” Susan said seriously. “The Black Library might have some new curses in it.”

“It will,” Sirius grinned.

“Can we move this along?” Snape sighed impatiently.

Harry was pretty sure Snape was just putting on a show for everyone. He had seemed rather pleased really when Harry asked him to attend the meeting.

“Okay, okay,” Sirius held up his hands for attention once more. “So the Order is using my family’s place. Dumbledore is secret-keeper, but it’s technically and legally my and Harry’s home so he can’t keep the two of us out. We just won’t be able to give anyone else the address.”

“Which is fine,” Lupin said, “because our quarrel isn’t with the Weasleys who are the only ones staying there.”

“Hear, hear,” Ron grinned.

“What else was said at the meeting?” Susan asked Sirius.

“So here’s the short version: Snape isn’t invited.”

Snape rolled his eyes at that.

“Neither is Harry.”

Harry smiled, pleased to finally be publicly acknowledged as Dumbledore’s enemy.

“Dumbledore wants everyone to work on recruiting. He’s also stationed a guard at the Department of Mysteries, he thinks Voldemort—”

“Timmy,” Harry said.

“Timmy then,” Sirius grinned, “he thinks he’ll try and get the prophecy.”

“The one locked in my vault?” Harry asked, lying slightly.

It was in his trunk.

His heavily warded trunk.

But nobody needed to know that.

Well, Snape knew. But that was it.

“That exact one,” Lupin nodded. “Albus believes that Vol- Timmy,” he sighed, spotting Harry’s mouth opening to correct him, “will want to hear the exact contents of the prophecy.”

“What an idiot,” Susan laughed. “Okay, so Dumbledore is trying to recruit and setting up a guard for a prophecy that Harry took years ago. Snape and Harry aren’t Dumbledore’s best friends, boo hoo. Anything else?”

“He’s also trying to convince everyone that V- Timmy is back,” Sirius said with a sly grin at Barty. “Apparently he doesn’t believe ‘the Dark Lord Barty’ is really the mastermind behind all the mayhem during the tournament.”

“How rude,” Barty said simply, taking a sip of his disgusting mint tea he kept sending Sevvie off to special order.

“Who all is in the Order, and who all is he trying to recruit?” Theo asked Sirius, a quill posed and ready to start writing.

Sirius listed off about a dozen names, only a couple of which Harry recognized.

“Your aunt fuckin’ joined Dumbledore?!” Harry asked Susan, feeling rather betrayed by Amelia Bones.

“Amelia actually spoke with me after Albus approached her,” Snape cut in. “As Albus is attempting to recruit the majority of the DMLE, Amelia felt as if it would be best if she rejoined, though she is trying to sway the aurors away from siding with Albus at present.”

“She won’t swear an alliance to you,” Susan told Harry with a frown. “She thinks you’re too young to be involved. But she knows I’ve joined your side and she’s refusing to swear anything to Dumbledore either. She says she’s ‘working for peace but building connections in case of war’.”

“That’s a good strategy,” Ron said approvingly. “Alright then, where’s Dumbledore focusing his recruitment at?”

“Creatures,” Lupin said bluntly. “He wants me to go underground and find werewolves willing to join him. He’s sent Hagrid off to envoy with the giant; he also asked Madame Maxine but she won’t go ever since Skeeter wrote about Dumbledore calling Harry a liar.”

Madame Maxine was a sweet woman, in Harry’s opinion. Even if she did keep trying to convince Harry to come to her school.

Or maybe it was especially because she kept doing that.

Also in Harry’s opinion, Rita was a real God send. The more she slandered Dumbledore in the newspaper, the better.

“Are you going?” Snape asked Lupin.

“I—” Lupin glanced at Sirius, who scowled irritably and crossed his arms, apparently not liking the idea much at all. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“You shouldn’t,” Fred told him. “I heard a bit of that meeting, and Dad reckons it’ll be dangerous. Dumbledore doesn’t care if you die, does he? Not if you can find more people to join his side.”

“He isn’t asking them to join him,” Lupin said with a frown. “He’s asking them to simply not join V- Timmy.”

“Wait.” Harry looked at Lupin incredulously. “Dumbledore doesn’t want werewolves in the Order?”

“He did not say that, explicitly,” Lupin said slowly. “As I am a member, I assume that was not his meaning. I think he is under the impression that neutrality is the best he will get. So that is what he’s asking for.”

Harry and Susan exchanged a long look before they broke out into identical smirks.

“We’d take neutrality too,” Susan said with a calculating look in her clever eyes. “What’s Dumbledore offering them in exchange for them not joining Timmy?”

“Nothing,” Lupin said, confirming the guess Harry had made on Dumbledore’s offer to them. “He only wants me to dissuade them from joining Timmy. Which may be difficult because I’m sure that he will be sending his own messenger to them with offers of power on his side.”

“They’ll be lies,” Barty said. “He would never allow anyone less than a pureblood, or a genius half-blood, to take the mark.” Barty sent Snape a hopeful smile as he added the exception that Timmy must have made for him, and Harry nearly laughed at Snape’s responding scowl. Merlin. Snape spent probably half his time pretending to dislike people that Harry knew for a fact he actually liked.

Snape could probably end diseases worldwide in a week if he didn’t waste so much time trying to seem cold and unlikeable.

“I know,” Lupin sighed. “But that’s the only offers on their table.”

“Not all the offers,” Susan corrected him. “Harry, what offer can we make for the werewolves?”

Harry thought carefully about it and tried to come up with a convincing offer for them.

“How would they like to be a part of our gang?” he asked. Snape rolled his eyes, probably only partially in distaste for werewolves, the other part had to be the mention of a gang. 

An alliance sounded stuffy, boring. A gang accomplished things.

“You would ask them to fight for you?” Lupin asked skeptically. Harry had no idea what made Lupin think he was anti-werewolf but it was bloody annoying. Harry thought werewolves were brilliant and sometimes he was even jealous of Lupin’s extra abilities he got from it. 

The physical strength to crush a man’s skull with their bare hands? Bloody brill.

“They’re literally just witches and wizards 29 days out of the month,” Susan said. “Witches and wizards who are discriminated against, probably jobless, and in desperate need of more rights. Which we’ll give them once Harry’s the Minister.”

“If you go, tell them I have a message for them and that’s it,” Harry said, thinking carefully. “Tell them that Harry Potter promises them a place to stay, food to eat, and promises to fight for them once I’ve joined the Ministry. Every single one of them who wants to swear they won’t join Dumbledore or Timmy at least has a place to stay.”

Harry knew that the main issue werewolves dealt with was poverty from the disgusting discrimination of the wizarding world. Businesses wouldn’t hire them, so then they’d end up broke and homeless. And Harry of all people knew what a boon it was in life to go from homeless and struggling to survive to having a place to stay and food to eat.

It could change someone’s entire life, permanently. It could save their life too.

“Harry, where are you planning on housing these hypothetically neutrally-aligned wolves?” Snape asked tightly. Harry figured he was worried Harry was trying to bring even more people to their house, but he wasn’t stupid.

“The house I bought yesterday,” Harry shrugged. “I was going to use it for Muggleborns to hide out in from Timmy's followers, but this might be a better option for now, yeah?”

Technically, he bought the house to try and start getting Muggleborns away from their crummy Muggle families. But he didn’t want to get into that argument with Hermione again just then and they did need to be protected from Timmy, so it didn’t really matter which explanation he shared. Although, the looks that Susan and Fred both gave him meant they suspected his true original motives in buying the house.

Eventually Harry would open a new house for muggleborns, the war just took temporary priority. 

Ron and Theo nodded in agreement with Harry’s idea, but Snape looked somehow even more wary about it all.

“You spent the money in your vault on a house for muggleborns?”

“Nope, I spent Sirius’s money on a house,” Harry said, ignoring Sirius’s look of confusion. If the man wasn’t going to check on his vaults every so often like Harry did then that was his problem. 

Harry knew Sirius had the power to cut him off from the vaults since he was the Lord and Harry just the Heir. They both also knew the Black vault could buy a dozen houses before there was any noticeable difference in gold, which was probably why Sirius didn’t bother complaining.

“For God's sake,” Snape sighed. “Any other ridiculous purchases?”

“Er, yes, but I’ll tell you later,” Harry said before pushing on hastily. “So we’re offering a house to werewolves and I’ll give Lupin the address before he leaves. What’s next?” he asked Hermione.

“Recruiting for actually active members,” Hermione said promptly. “Professor Snape, we figured you would know more about how Dumbledore and Timmy built up their armies and could advise us on who we should start asking.”

Snape looked taken aback as they all focused on him, but he answered anyway.

“I believe that the Slytherin students will be your main focus this year,” he told them. “They were a popular group that had been exploited in the last war. Albus did not trust them and thus made them easy pickings for the Dark Lord. I believe many will choose to follow Harry instead if he convinces them of their likelihood of success on his side.”

Theo scribbled that down while Ron toyed with his hair and considered the best approach.

“Opening night,” he eventually said, his eyes screwed up as he considered different plans. “You should make a show of power in the duels then make an offer to everyone,” he told Harry. 

“Good idea,” Susan praised him. “And I think we should start recruiting in the DMLE too.”

Harry, who had been nodding along to Ron’s plan for their housemates, scowled at Susan’s suggestion.

“No cops,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t trust them.”

“Yes cops,” Susan disagreed, just as stubborn as Harry. “It’s stupid not to at least extend offers to some that we can trust.”

“Like who?” Harry demanded, ignoring the rest of the group in favor of arguing with his best friend. “Besides Amelia of course.”

Except she already joined Dumbledore, didn’t she?

“Johnny.”

Harry, Fred, and Lupin of all people, sputtered at that.

“Johnny?!” Fred laughed. “Johnny Abbott?? Pot smoking, booze drinking, rule breaking Johnny?”

“They had a sign on bonus,” Susan shrugged as if it explained everything. “Johnny had the right NEWTS, and Auntie was authorized to hire 50 new DMLE staff members thanks to the Dark Lord Barty.”

“Johnny is welcome then,” Barty said with mock solemnity and a half-bow.

“What’s Johnny’s problem?” Harry asked, rather startled by the news of someone he considered to be his friend joining the DMLE. “He was supposed to be going backpacking around the world!”

“Which costs money, you prat,” Susan said slowly. “We can’t all be rich heirs, Harry,” she stuck her tongue out at him, softening her admonishment.

“Hey, I made 500 galleons on my own last year,” Harry said defensively.

“You made 1,000, Harry,” Snape corrected him.

“Nope. 500,” Harry said. “I got 200 from the interest Bagman owed Fred, and then 300 from the tournament.”

“And where did your other 700 galleons go??” Sirius asked.

“200 I owed Ron, and a 500 galleon investment in an upcoming shop in Diagon Alley as a silent partner. I am ‘investing in my future’.”

Or, at least, that’s what Griphook kept saying.

“Cheers, Darlin’,” Fred winked at him.

“Wonderful,” Snape sighed. “You’ll either be penniless by graduation or more wealthy than any teenager has reason to be.”

“We’ll see what happens, Sev,” Harry grinned. He wasn’t worried, Griphook told him he already doubled the original value of his parents’ vault even before he added the 500 galleons.

Snape scowled at Harry for the nickname but was interrupted by Sirius.

“Pup, nobody likes cops,” he said, bringing the focus of the conversation back on task. “But if you don’t at least try and recruit some of them then you’ll be the only side in this that doesn’t. Dumbledore and Timmy will both have plenty of law enforcement on their sides and it won’t be good if you didn’t.”

“I agree,” Barty said. “The DMLE can make your life difficult if you don’t have any of them working for you.”

“There are plenty of them who would be trustworthy,” Luna said quietly while gazing up at the sky.

“Fine!” Harry cried, annoyed at their logic and arguments. “Fine. Sue, ask Johnny to join and if he does then have him start finding other people we can trust. But none of them can join until I check them out. They’re starting in the negatives on trust levels.”

“Done.” Susan smiled smugly as her plan was added to the official to do list. “Next?”

“Harry wrote ‘Fudge’ on my list,” Hermione said as she squinted to decipher Harry’s messy scrawl. “So I assume the Minister is another problem?”

“Or Harry’s hungry,” Fred joked.

“Or we could stay on topic and finish this before I present myself to the Dark Lord to be taken out of my misery,” Snape muttered, clearly unamused by the constant side conversations derailing the meeting.

“I meant the Minister,” Harry clarified. “He told me he wants me to ‘pop in the ministry and boost public morale’.”

“He wants you to be a mascot for the ministry’s efforts at reassuring the public that they are protecting them from the new Dark Lord,” Snape scoffed, interpreting the minister's intent correctly. “It is absurd and disgusting.”

“I figured I’d do it,” Harry shrugged. “Not for free, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Fudge in our pockets, would it?”

“Careful, Harry, your Malfoy side is showing,” Theo said without any real malice.

“He’s not wrong though,” Ron pointed out. “The Ministry controls a lot of public opinion. If Harry can influence the Minister then the Daily Prophet will keep dragging Dumbledore and Harry can maybe start making some changes early.”

“Exactly,” Harry nodded at Ron’s endorsement of his plan. “What do you think?” he asked Barty and Snape. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t trust his friends, it was that they almost always agreed with him and Harry’s plans always sounded brilliant and didn’t always execute quite as brilliantly. 

“I like it,” Barty said immediately.

So maybe Barty was another ‘yes-friend’.

“It is acceptable enough, though I would appreciate being informed of the changes you are attempting to execute before you do so,” Snape said slowly. “Having the Minister on your side carries no true downside at present time.”

“Brill. Anything else?”

“That’s all we had really,” Hermione told him. “But then I had to add ‘Dept of Mystery’ and the Black library and artifacts on the bottom.”

“Why are we worried about the Department of Mysteries?” Susan asked. “Let Dumbledore and Timmy waste their time there looking for the prophecy.”

“Dumbledore’s wasting my time,” Sirius grouched. “We’re all taking shifts guarding it.”

“Are we just going to let Timmy and Dumbledore fight over a prophecy you already have?” Ron asked curiously.

“Yeah, I don’t see a problem with that,” Harry shrugged. “That’s a good enough distraction that we don’t really have to worry about.”

“And I have an idea about the stuff from Sirius’ house,” Fred said as he leaned his chair back on two legs and stretched. “George and I have already been nicking stuff, we can probably get crazy Kreacher to help if we tell him it’s all about saving the Black history or some bullshit.”

Harry’s lips flattened and he rolled his eyes at Fred for his description of Sirius’ house elf. It wasn’t Kreacher's fault everyone treated him like dirt. Harry would probably be a bastard if he was treated that way too.

In fact, Harry had been a bastard and continued to be a bastard even without being treated like a filthy bit of rubbish.

“Do it nicely,” he chastised Fred. “Don’t piss off Kreacher, he could be helpful, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred shook his head at Harry with a fond tone of exasperation. “You and your hopeless crusades.”

Harry didn’t think it was hopeless at all. He already recruited plenty of people that nobody expected. Which included someone who was meant to be dead. What was one more moody person to add?

“Are we quite done then?” Snape asked.

“Yes,” Hermione said decisively. “We’re supposed to meet again at the end of summer before we return to Hogwarts for updates on everyone’s jobs. Lupin will talk with the wolves, Ron will figure out Harry’s approach to the Slytherins. Susan will work on the DMLE, Fred can start on saving the stuff from Sirius’s we want, Harry will work on the Minister, and Mister Malfoy will have an update on Timmy for us then.”

“Adjourned then,” Harry told them all, secretly relieved to be finished. “Good work, guys.”

“Let’s have pizza next time,” Ron said eagerly.

“Let’s not,” Harry rolled his eyes. Crumbs, crumbs everywhere all the time. 

“I need to make a few notes and then I’ll give Lupin the address for the place I got. D’you have a minute when I’m done, Sev?” he asked Snape with an innocent smile referring to the discussion they needed to have on the other purchase he made through Griphook.

“Do not call me Sev,” Snape scowled, “or I will kill you myself. And yes, find me in my office when you are prepared to inform me of what is undoubtedly another poorly thought out, and likely illegal, scheme.”

“It’s a great scheme,” Harry blinked at Snape before smiling slowly, “Sev.”

“I should kill you,” Snape told Barty. “You are a terrible influence on my ward.”

“Hey now - Harry’s the bad influence!” Barty defended himself. “He’s completely corrupted my morals!”

“I’ll meet you in my office,” Snape told Harry as he got to his feet.

Harry laughed quietly as Snape and Barty started arguing on their way back inside. Snape could keep fighting with Barty all he wanted, but Harry knew he liked having his friend alive and back on the same side again.

“See you tonight?” Fred whispered under the cover of everyone else making their way to their feet and splitting up.

“Yep,” Harry nodded and waved as Fred and Ron headed back to the house to floo to the Burrow before they floo’d to Grimmauld Place.

“Sleepover at my place tonight?” Susan asked Luna. “Auntie Amelia won’t be home, so we can just hangout.”

“That would be wonderful,” Luna smiled brightly. “Do you think we could go to the films again? I want to see the one we watched the ad for the last time...”

Harry waved the girls off, only feeling a minor twinge of jealousy that they were going to hang out together without him while he was busy with Snape. Although, the film Luna described sounded terrible, so maybe he would just ask them to a different movie later in the summer.

“Give me just a minute,” he told Lupin and Sirius as he distractedly began writing down everyone’s plans before he forgot anything they decided.

“Take your time, plotting world domination does require careful notes,” Sirius grinned.

“Not world domination,” Harry murmured as he scrawled down the new updates. Sirius could crack jokes all he wanted, but Harry felt like his memory was terrible and there were people counting on him suddenly. He wasn’t going to let one of his spies get hurt, or killed, because Harry had forgotten a key detail or something once the inevitable upcoming fights really got going.

Sirius and Lupin relaxed back in their chairs, enjoying the dimming sunshine as Harry wrote quickly and carefully.

“Done,” he finally said. He tapped the parchments and made sure they were readable only to him before sending them to his heavily warded trunk. “Alright, I’ve got stuff to do tonight, yeah? But I’ll give you the address and you can take anyone there who vows not to join anyone else. I dunno how to set it up so there’s food or anything there though.”

“I do,” Sirius told him. “I’ll handle that, Pup. You’re doing enough already for everyone.”

“You need to make sure you take time for yourself,” Lupin said in the gentle tone that always made Harry feel coddled. “You’re taking on quite a bit.”

“It’s my gang, my problems,” Harry said shortly. “I have to make sure everyone’s safe, yeah? I don’t want someone to hurt any of my people.”

And by that he meant he was absolutely not going to let Timmy or Dumbledore steal, hurt, or kill any of the people who joined Harry’s gang. They were his people, his friends to protect. If someone got hurt, it would be on Harry.

“Heavy lies the crown,” Lupin murmured before clearing his throat. “You’ve assembled a good alliance, Harry,” he continued in a louder voice. “Make sure you rely on them for help, that’s what we’re all here for.”

“Noted,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Here,” he handed Lupin the scrap of parchment where he wrote the address for the house in Scotland he purchased. “It’s in my and Sirius’s name, but I wanna name it,” he told his godfather. It was childish, but when Griphook told him he had to pick a name to register the house with, he'd been excitedly coming up with ideas.

“That’s a fun tradition,” Sirius said, easily leaving it to Harry. “I tried to get your dad to name their cottage ‘Marauder’s Mansion’ but Lily put a stop to it.”

“Rightfully so,” Lupin chuckled, pocketing the address in his sweater pocket. “It was a two bedroom cottage meant for their family, not a place for you and James to get drunk and relive your glory days.”

“Just for that I’m naming our next house ‘Padfoots Love Shack’,” Sirius told Lupin as he helped him to his feet.

“Gross,” Harry crinkled his nose. “That’s really fuckin’ gross to say in front of me.”

“And hearing Fred ask to come over tonight was meant to be pleasant for me to hear?” Lupin asked with a small smile.

“It’s not my fault you’ve got super hearing,” Harry shrugged, unconcerned. “Special little wolf senses aren’t always so great, huh?”

Sirius laughed, as he usually did when Harry and Lupin had ‘friendly disagreements’, as Lupin called them. Harry didn’t dislike Lupin as much as he used to, in fact most of the time he liked Lupin almost the same amount as he did Sirius, but Lupin seemed determined to try and ‘counsel’ Harry so Harry figured Lupin deserved some arguments every now and again for it.

“We’ll see you later, Pup,” Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair in the annoying way Harry had begrudgingly gotten used to from him.

Harry waited for the two of them to leave, the last people in the yard, before releasing a heavy sigh and relaxing his stiff pose.

It was bloody exhausting trying to lead a whole army. It was no wonder Dumbledore’s hair was entirely white and Timmy was completely mad.

Harry slowly made his way inside toward Snape's office, snacking on one of the pastries he snagged from Mavis as he went. Even if Mavis seemed determined to make Harry’s meetings a tea party, there was no denying he was a brilliant baker.

“I need a favor,” Harry said in lieu of a greeting once he entered Snape’s office, warded the door against eavesdroppers, and plopped down on his chair by the bookcase.

“I may grant your favor if you inform me of the other ridiculous purchase you made,” Snape said without even looking up from whatever bit of correspondence he was working on.

“I bought another house and I want you to be the secret-keeper.”

Snape immediately looked up at that and even though he was too controlled to look really shocked, Harry knew him well enough by then to see the surprise in his eyes anyway.

“You purchased a second house?”

“Yep. It’s from just my vault though,” Harry explained. “It’s a safe house. There’s too many people who know of this house, yeah? So I figured we needed one in case anyone needs to go in hiding.”

Which was actually only an idea he had after Draco and his Mum had ran into that exact scenario.

“That is an excellent plan,” Snape said approvingly. “I will rest much easier knowing you have alternative housing should this one become compromised.”

Harry gave him a crooked smile at his praise, pleased to show him that he was capable of coming up with useful plans on occasion.

“Are you certain you wish for me to be the secret-keeper?” Snape asked.

“Well, yeah, who else? Nobody. You’re the strongest person in the gang, and I trust you the most. I figured you’d die before you gave it up and nobody can break your occlumency shields, so who else?” Harry repeated with a small shrug.

Snape looked flattered by Harry’s assessment and accepted easily.

“When would you like to establish this?” he asked Harry.

“Er, now? If you aren’t busy?”

“Excellent.” Snape stood up and summoned his cloak from the cloakrack by the door. “Is it connected to the floo network or will we be illegally apparating?”

“Illegally apparating,” Harry smirked. “D’you want me to side-along you?”

“No,” Snape pretended to shudder at the thought, or maybe it was a real shudder, sometimes it was hard to tell with him. “I would prefer if you wrote down the location and I can meet you there.”

Harry jumped to his feet and handed Snape a bit of parchment after he scrawled down the address, “See you there.”

Snape looked down at the parchment after Harry popped out of the room and sighed at what his overtly dramatic ward had written:

The safe house for the Grey Gang, aka Invisibility Way, is located at 01 Meadowview, Shanklin, Isle of Wright

“Ta da!” Harry laughed at Snape’s look of confusion when he apparated to the address Harry gave him. “What’d you think?”

“I think either you have made a terrible investment or whichever Goblin assisted you in purchasing this home has already had it warded,” Snape said as he looked around him. Harry knew what Snape was seeing just then, a brilliant glamour of a ward that Griphook had one of the Gringotts curse breakers contracted out to enact on the property. 

Even though Harry could easily see the large two story grey brick house with the fenced in back lawn, he knew all Snape could see was a rundown shack that resembled an old Muggle outhouse. Which was good, because it meant that if anyone ventured too far into the forest near the beach that they would assume it was just another old abandoned bit of property.

“The second one,” Harry told Snape. “Want to set up the spell or have the grand tour first?”

“Lead the way,” Snape said, gesturing towards the shack with a slight smirk. Which Harry hoped would fall right off his face once they stepped past the ward.

“Ta da!” Harry said again once he threw the front door open and Snape was able to actually see the property as Harry did. The two of them stepped inside the door to a modestly sized, and currently unfurnished sitting room.

“I see you have already painted,” Snape said as he inspected the green painted walls that mimicked their house in exact shade.

“Yeah, I just told Griphook what colors I wanted every room to be and he did the work,” Harry explained as he led Snape through the sitting room to the kitchen. “I haven’t actually seen it since we came here after I purchased it, so only the bedrooms have any furniture.” 

To highlight his point, Harry showed Snape Mavis’s quarters off the kitchen, which were a bright yellow color and completed with elf sized furniture.

“Cheery,” Snape curled his lip up at the decor. “I’m quite sure Mavis will appreciate the effort you made for him.”

Harry ignored Snape’s sarcasm and instead explained about the different dimension stretching spells and runes that Griphook told him about when they were discussing the property as he continued with the tour.

Snape probably already knew all about the spells, bloody genius he was, but it was still kind of him to listen patiently as Harry talked eagerly about them. It could change the world, erase homelessness forever. 

If muggles weren’t so afraid of magic, they could be comfortable and safe for their entire lives. 

“The library is really the only downstairs room I had them change,” Harry explained as he showed Snape his favorite room in the house. “I figured we’d need to make sure we had all our research and stuff with us if we had to go into hiding or something.”

“Indeed,” Snape agreed lightly, with a curious look towards the corner of the room that Harry sectioned off as a potion lab.

Once they finished with the downstairs tour, Harry led Snape upstairs and hoped that Griphook made sure the rooms were all set up the way he’d tried to describe how he wanted them. He really had lucked out with Griphook as an account manager, all he’d had to do was transfer some money from his vault to Griphook and the goblin had eagerly began setting everything up quickly for Harry.

It was probably because Harry didn’t care what things cost, not really.

“Harry, how many people do you anticipate residing here?” Snape asked when Harry led him to the very magically expanded second floor.

“Er, I dunno,” Harry lied airily. “This place had seven bedrooms though.” He pointed out the doors in the long hallway that each led to a different bedroom.

In truth, Harry assumed that eventually he would need to house the entire gang there. If Timmy or Dumbledore started targeting Harry’s people, then Harry would have to move them and keep them safe. That was just how it needed to work. And he could hardly protect just a few of them and leave the rest to fend for themselves, could he?

“Look how brill this is,” Harry said eagerly. He began taking Snape through different doorways to show off the maze of bedrooms that all had connected bathrooms and room dividers in them, aside from two.

“Twelve,” Snape sighed after they’d toured all seven of the freshly painted and furnished bedrooms. He must have been counting the beds, but he counted wrong. “You intend on having us reside with ten other people if there comes a time that you must go into hiding.”

“Uh, twelve other people,” Harry admitted. “And not if I have to go in hiding, I can handle myself, can’t I? But others might get targeted.”

Particularly Snape. But Harry knew Snape wouldn’t want him to have bought a safe house based on the idea that Snape would need protection. He had too much pride for that.

“There are twelve beds,” Snape said. Harry blinked at him until finally Snape’s left eyelid twitched and he perceptively glanced towards the light blue bedroom with two beds in it that Harry planned on sharing with Theo, Fred, and Hermione.

“Are you not concerned with your personal safety if you share this location with twelve others?” Snape asked, apparently deciding not to comment on that bit of information.

“No, I trust them,” Harry shrugged. He also wasn’t concerned with his own safety, but again, that was better kept to himself.

“And who all will have access to this property?” Snape asked as he rubbed a hand across his face wearily.

Harry pointed out bedrooms as he listed off the people he planned on sharing the safe house with if the need arose.

“Sue and Lue get the purple room by the stairs. Me, Theo, Fred, and Mione get the light blue room in the middle. Neville and Blaise get the gold room on the end.” Harry shifted to point out the doorways on the opposite side of the hall.

“Barty gets the private dark blue room down there, then George and Ron in the red room, Draco and Cissa will have to share the green one next to it, or Draco can bunk with Blaise, I don’t care which. But that one—” Harry pointed at the only other private bedroom that he had painted a charcoal grey, “— is just for you.”

“I will kill the Dark Lord with my bare hands before I reside with this many people,” Snape said as he curled his upper lip in annoyance. Harry chuckled at his dark look of irritation and ignored his threat. He knew that wherever he went, Snape would go too.

“We’ll see,” Harry grinned. “Ready to set the spell then?”

“Do you understand how to cast it?” Snape asked.

“Yep.”

“Excellent.”

Snape watched as Harry cast the spell and then he calmly and confidently spoke the correct words for Harry’s magic to cast him as the keeper of the home that actually was finally invisible to all others.

“This truly was an insightful plan,” Snape told him when they went back outside to set the perimeter of the spell. “You came up with this yourself?”

“Sure did,” Harry said proudly. “It’s practical, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Snape told him, his dark eyes gleaming with approval after they cast the final spell of the secret keeper ritual together. “As is this.” Snape cleared his throat, seemingly momentarily uncomfortable.

“This morning I myself visited Gringotts and formally named you my heir,” Snape said stiffly, shocking Harry to silence. “If anything should happen to me, then you stand to gain my vault, which contains as much research as it does coin, annual royalties on the potions I have published, and all trademark rights to those potion recipes.”

Harry was frozen where he stood, truly stunned as he studied Snape’s face closely for any sign of a lie.

“You - you actually made me your heir?” he asked in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper. “Like... like you would have if I were actually your - like your son?”

“Precisely,” Snape said calmly, his eyes firmly locked on Harry’s with no sign of it being a horrible or cruel joke. “Although, I admit that the Snape name comes with no obstinate jewelry nor any true weight to the name,” he added drily.

“Oh I dunno about that.” Harry gave Snape a small and kind of shy smile, feeling oddly touched at the man’s gesture. “I think the ‘bravest Slytherin in Hogwarts history’ and Witch Weekly's third most eligible bachelor carries a pretty important name,” Harry teased him before adding on more genuinely, “it’s a name I’m happy to carry on.”

“Heir Potter-Black-Snape is quite an absurd mouthful,” Snape said, hiding his own affection toward Harry behind a smirk of shared amusement.

“Potter-Snape-Black,” Harry corrected him. He couldn’t put Potter anywhere but first in the lineup, as it carried the most weight within the magical world, but he would definitely put Snape ahead of Black.

Snape’s eyes softened and in the front lot of Invisibility Way he laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, “I am quite proud to have you as my heir.”

Harry only responded with a nod, not wanting to speak in case the tightness in his throat affected his voice, but he knew they understood each other anyway.

The rest of Harry’s first week of summer holiday was thankfully much more relaxed than his first few days had been. Even with all the work that he needed to do, and the looming threat of Timmy, who was remaining suspiciously quiet, Harry thought the holiday was shaping up to be a good one.

Harry exchanged letters with Fleur, who wrote about her new job at Gringotts and her blossoming courtship with Fred’s older brother, Bill. He also shared a couple short letters with Viktor, who was encouraging him to train and try-out with professional quidditch teams this year.

Which Harry absolutely was going to do. If Viktor Krum could be on a professional team in his NEWTS year, then so could Harry Potter.

Harry also popped in to the Ministry with Susan one day with two goals in mind:

Begin bargaining with the Minister and he needed to destroy any record of him ever having visited the Hall of Prophecies.

If Timmy and Dumbledore wanted to wage a war over a prophecy Harry already had, there was no downside to it. Harry was happy to let them fight over it, meanwhile he would be setting himself up to be the last wizard standing.

“I’ll go down and burn the evidence while you meet with Fudge then we can get lunch with Johnny?” Susan suggested quietly when they entered the atrium together.

“Perfect,” Harry nodded at her, keeping his head slightly ducked though to avoid the crowds that he tended to draw in places like the Ministry. “Meet you guys in the cafeteria in an hour?”

Susan agreed and they split up to their separate destinations; Susan down to the Department of Mysteries under Harry’s cloak, and Harry up to the Minister’s office.

“Harry! Come in, lad!” Harry smiled politely at Fudge once he made his way up to his office and saw the man waiting for him by his secretary’s desk. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” Harry kept up his polite smile as he shook Fudge’s hand, nodding at the friendly secretary seated behind the desk. “How are you?”

“Busy, busy,” Fudge sighed. “This problem with the Barty Crouch Junior has got us all working overtime I’m afraid. Has Madame Bones told you about the changes within the DMLE?”

“No,” Harry said, mostly honestly. Susan told him quite a bit about the expansion of the department and the new emphasis on protecting citizens, but technically Amelia hadn’t told Harry anything. “I’d love to hear about it though,” he told Fudge.

“Of course! Come in, have a seat, I’ll call up a tea service and we can chat,” Fudge said happily, clearly eager to have a famous and nationally beloved figure such as Harry approve of his plans. “Mandy, order tea and biscuits for us, would you, dear?”

Harry followed Fudge into his overly decorated office and listened politely while he chattered on all about the changes he was enacting within the ministry. Harry was pleased to hear that Fudge did seem to be taking the threat seriously, and was once again impressed with the plan they set up. 

He seriously doubted if Fudge would have made any changes to prepare everyone had they insisted Timmy was back from the dead. Instead, they presented him with a perfectly viable Dark Lord to prepare against and Fudge was able to set himself up as a minister who cared enough about his citizens to ensure their safety before a war broke out.

It was a win-win.

“I think you’re doing amazing,” Harry said after Fudge finished his explanations, laying it on with just the right amount of admiration that he knew Fudge thrived off of. “We’re lucky to have such a caring and proactive Minister.”

“Well...” Fudge puffed his chest out and preened in a way that Harry thought made him look like a little kid getting praised by their parent. “You know, Harry, I think it would go quite a ways with the public opinion if I could maybe tell Miss Skeeter that you said that. Perhaps a quote for her next article?” Fudge asked hopefully.

“Hmm...” Harry pretended to debate the matter as he sipped his tea. He knew Fudge was desperate to have people see that Harry approved of him and his plans, especially since March would bring along another election for Minister, and it was that desperation Harry wanted to exploit. “That would be quite a favor for you,” he finally said.

“Oh, one I would happily repay!” Fudge said quickly, easily picking up on Harry’s subtle suggestion. “You just name it.”

“Well, there’s a bill coming up in the Wizengamot to be voted on next week,” Harry said slowly. “If it passed, then I would be more than happy to write to Rita and tell her all about how great I think you’re doing. Maybe we could even get a photo together to add to the article, really show everyone how we’re a team in this, you know?”

“What bill?” Fudge asked him cautiously.

“It limits the cost that suppliers are allowed to charge for moonstone,” Harry said, having talked about it with Draco when he and Blaise stopped by earlier in the week. “I think it’s an excellent bill to be passed.”

Fudge twirled his purple bowler hat in his hand quickly as he weighed the pros and cons of Harry’s offer. Harry stayed quiet and sipped his tea as he waited for him to come to a decision on what would be the first obvious bribe they shared between the two of them.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Fudge eventually said with a weak smile but a decisive nod. “I could speak with some of the members on the Wizengamot and see if we can’t make sure that happens.”

By the time Harry met Susan, Johnny, and Tonks, for some odd reason, in the Ministry dining hall for lunch, he was feeling rather smug. Honestly, Lucius always made it seem like bargaining with the Minister was hard but Harry thought it was actually just as easy as any other bargain Harry ever made. 

Fudge wanted to piggyback off Harry’s fame, and Harry wanted to start making real changes in the wizarding world. If the bill was passed when it was brought up next week, all Harry would have to do is have it quoted in the paper that he agreed with the Ministry’s actions, which he did, and he would hopefully take a step towards easing the lives of werewolves.

Eventually he would find a way to get all magical beings to even standings, but it was slow work and he could only take small steps until he was in charge one day.

Then Harry would change everything.

The first Sunday back at home, a week into his break, Harry was cleaning his Firebolt after a vigorous practice session he had in his backyard when he was suddenly joined by Susan and Luna.

“You look so sad, Harry,” Susan said as she threw herself to the ground next to Harry.

“Er... I do?” Harry asked her, confused at her mischievous smile and off the mark assessment of his mood.

“Very much so,” Luna said with an equally mischievous grin as she folded herself gracefully to the ground on Harry’s other side. Harry felt a little bit trapped between them, and unsure of what the two witches had planned.

“Don’t worry though, we have the perfect plan to cheer you up,” Susan said brightly, throwing her arm over Harry’s shoulder.

“What’s that?” Harry asked suspiciously. Susan’s idea of cheering someone up usually involved trouble. Not that he was opposed to trouble, as long as it was worth the fight with Snape afterward.

“Movie night!” Susan declared excitedly. “Me, you, Luna—”

“Hermione.”

“Ugh.” Susan groaned at Luna’s interruption. “And apparently Hermione. We can get candy, popcorn, junk food, and just go to my place today and camp out in the sitting room and watch movies alllll night long.”

“Done.” Harry quickly finished off the polish on his broomstick and packed up his kit. He didn’t know if the girls knew about his jealousy last weekend when they’d done this without him, though he suspected Luna did, but either way it was a perfect plan in his opinion. “Let me check with Snape then we can find Mione, yeah?”

“She’s in your and Theo’s room,” Luna said confidently as she got to her feet and offered Harry her hand. “And Snape will say yes.”

Harry didn’t need the nargles to tell him that, Snape rarely said no to anything Harry planned with his friends.

Hermione, however, was a different story.

“Movie night?” she squinted at Susan’s offer warily up in Harry and Theo’s room. “With you guys?”

Harry knew that Hermione sometimes felt excluded in the gang, but it was still silly of her to think they wouldn’t want to include her. Her and Susan bickered the most in the group, but Susan would still kill anyone who would ever dare to hurt her.

“It’s a girls night,” Luna said, quite winningly in Harry’s opinion. “We can watch those Disney movies you like, gossip about our friends, and eat terrible food that your parents would never approve of.”

“Girls night?” Hermione perked up at that. “Are you inviting Ginny?”

Harry barely repressed a scowl at that, still unhappy with the friendship Luna struck up with Fred and Ron’s younger sister.

“No,” Luna hummed thoughtfully. “Her and Harry don’t get along just yet.”

“Harry?” Theo looked at Harry and raised his eyebrows. “Is Harry one of the girls?” he snickered.

“He is,” Susan said simply, ignoring Theo’s annoying chuckles at their inclusion of Harry in the plans. “Are you in, Hermione?”

“Well...” Hermione glanced guiltily at Theo, who grinned and nodded slightly at her. “Alright then,” she beamed, her brown eyes bright with her excitement of being invited. “I’m in. Girls night!”

Late that night, as a musical number from a film nobody was paying attention to filled the room with background noise, the four of them were having more fun than Harry had had in a while with his friends.

Just easy, relaxed, teenage fun. Normal teenage fun, which Harry thought might be much more relaxing than the typical fun he and his friends had.

They all laughed as they gossiped and talked about their lives. Susan told them about sneaking around with Johnny, and her plans to ‘explore her sexuality’ at Hogwarts in the upcoming year. Hermione’s face turned a dark shade of red when she told them all about how her parents nearly caught her sneaking back in from Theo’s early one morning.

Luna even casually mentioned two people who expressed interest in ‘being in a courtship’ with her, though she refused to say who they were, no matter how much the other three begged her. 

And Harry?

Harry just smiled happily as he listened, laughed, and felt a long carried heavy weight of responsibility and stress melting off him in favor of being a normal teenager for the night.

Chapter Text

“Morning, Sev.”

Severus ground his back teeth together as Potter happily joined him in the kitchen for breakfast, Frederick Weasley following right behind him. Severus was pleased to see Potter, as he always was, but apparently ‘Sev’ had stuck as the brat’s preferred title to use when they were at home.

Severus briefly considered calling Potter ‘Har’, simply to see if he would appreciate it before reminding himself that he was the adult and Potter the idiot child.

“Harry. Weasley,” he greeted the boys curtly, unamused with the continuation of ‘let’s have Frederick all but move in with us’. He inspected them both quickly and glowered at Potter’s borrowed sweater, a baggy red-knitted jumper with a yellow F on the front, and at Frederick’s bedraggled hair and lovesick expression.

“How’s it going, Professor?” Frederick asked brightly as he pulled Potter's chair out for him. “Sleep well?”

“No,” Severus said shortly, refusing to fall into a conversation that early in the morning with Frederick.

There was a reason that the Hogwarts staff had their meals separate from the students.

“Good morning!”

Another perky voice first thing in the morning, Severus thought irritably as Barty joined them, pulling a chair out beside Frederick and making himself right at home.

“Morning, Barty,” Potter said cheerily, ignoring Severus’s thick aura of annoyance. “How’d you sleep?”

“Brilliantly,” Barty said, his one crooked front tooth on full display as he smiled widely. “Thanks again, Harry, honestly I think the basement is the nicest place I’ve ever lived.”

Severus snorted at the comment. Despite the fact that Potter had gone out of his way to expand, decorate, and furnish the basement to resemble a suite, complete with an attached bathroom, all Barty had to compare it to was his father’s home, Hogwarts, and Azkaban.

“Keep snorting and I’ll transfigure you into a pig, Sev,” Barty warned him. Potter and Frederick snickered as Mavis began piling the table high with various breakfast dishes. “Thank you, Mavis,” Barty said kindly.

“Mister Barty is very welcome,” Mavis said, apparently quite warmed up to their household's newest addition. “And Mavis was making banana pancakes for Mister Fred too,” the little elf added as he floated a plate in front of Frederick.

“You’re the best,” Frederick said as he happily tucked into the dish.

It did not escape Severus’s notice that he was the only one who Mavis referred to with the incorrect name.

It was Potter’s doing, always Potter.

“What’s on the agenda for today, boys?” Barty asked Potter and Frederick as Severus struggled to immerse himself in the newspaper once more.

“Gotta pop by the ministry and get a photo with Fudge for the paper since he got that bill passed for me.” Severus had no need to look up to see Potter roll his eyes, he could practically hear the gesture in his tone. “Then Sue and I are meeting with a couple aurors who might be interested in joining us.”

“Oh?” Severus looked up, his interest piqued. “And who are they?”

“Sirius’ cousin, Tonks, and some bloke that Johnny calls Blue,” Potter told him. “Tonks is probably okay, it would take her out of the Order anyway, and Johnny swears that I’ll approve of Blue.”

Severus considered Nymphadora Tonks as he remembered her. She was a clumsy student, though not without skill as a brewer when she was not knocking over cauldrons, and seemed to be a competent enough auror. She was one of the few who trained under Alastor Moody and who was currently partnered with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

‘Blue’ was not a name he recognized though.

“Are you sure that Nymphadora is trustworthy?” Barty asked Potter slowly. “I’m not questioning you or anything,” he said hastily. “But what if Dumbledore told her to join you as a spy?”

Severus watched as Potter froze, his spoonful of porridge partially to his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Good thinking, Barty. I should...” Potter sent an uncertain look towards Severus as he hesitated, clearly unsure how to handle that possibility.

“Require a vow on her mother’s life that she is speaking with you of her own free will and that anything related to the conversation will not be relayed to Albus nor any other member of the Order,” Severus told him. “Once she swears in to the group, she should be unable to relay information, but a vow upfront is not an outrageous request considering the circumstances.”

“Oh, so I can make Unbreakable Vows again now?” Potter cocked his head at Severus curiously which caused Severus to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“In times of war? Yes,” he told him. “Unbreakable Vows that ensure those who surround you are loyal only to your side are quite different from the many you made in your first two years at Hogwarts.”

”Brill,” Potter nodded at him. “I’ll make Blue take one too, just in case. You shouldn’t ever trust a cop without one anyway.”

“What a dumb name,” Frederick laughed. “Who names their kid Blue?”

“I like his name,” Barty said. “Much better than Bartemius.”

Potter nodded in agreement, though their conversation was interrupted by more housemates joining them as Theodore and Granger quietly walked in the kitchen.

Severus felt his eye twitch when he spotted a damned hickey on Theodore’s neck, barely peeking out above his shirt collar.

Lovely. 

Severus truly hated teenagers.

“Morning,” Granger smiled shyly as she took a seat at the expanded table Potter had swapped their old four-chaired table with on the first day of summer.

Severus sorely missed the smaller table.

More so, he missed the quieter meals that were served there.

“Good morning, Miss Mione,” Mavis squeaked as he floated more settings in front of Theodore and Granger. “Will Miss be wanting her tea?”

Severus had no idea when Granger became such an expected addition to their household that Mavis stocked ‘her tea’, but he didn’t care for that either.

“No thank you, Mavis,” Granger said kindly. “I can get it myself.”

“Mavis will be breaking his fingers in the door if Miss Mione insults him like that,” Mavis said, waving his finger in Granger’s face. “Either Mavis will be making tea or Miss will be listening to his fingers breaking.”

“Might as well let him make you tea,” Theodore said, having seen Mavis follow through on previous threats when Granger attempted to serve herself. “Harry’ll be pissed if he has to heal Mavis again.”

“I will be,” Potter confirmed.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, Mavis,” Granger said hastily.

Severus barely refrained from casting a muffling charm on the other occupants at the table as he focused on the paper and blocked out their cheerful chatter. He wistfully remembered back when it was simply himself and Potter residing in the home. It was a simpler time, a quieter time.

The other occupants chattered about their plans and Severus was content with ignoring them as he sipped his cappuccino and read the news. Apparently with Potter’s bargain with the minister working, and the cost of moonstone lowering, it was reported that the stock value of the ingredient had risen, indicating that it was being purchased in larger bulks since it was more affordable. 

It was proof that werewolves, or those brewing for them, were taking advantage of the lower cost in order to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. Which would make those afflicted retain their sanity during the full moon, hopefully lowering the spread of the disease as they would restrain themselves from unintentionally biting and infecting others.

It had been an excellent bill to have passed, and Severus could not have been more pleased when Potter hoped for those exact results when they discussed it.

“Sev? Are you listening?”

Severus, who had been actively not listening, snapped his head up as Potter called out to him.

“I am not,” he said, folding the paper and setting it aside to give his attention to Potter. “Please, repeat yourself.”

Potter sighed in a dramatically put upon way but grinned across the table at him.

“I said, are you going to be home today? Because I was going to have a few people come over after lunch to fly with me. But I didn’t want to annoy you.”

Severus sent a pointed look at the four others seated at the table, indicating how Potter already had people there to annoy Severus, but the ridiculous child chose to ignore his insinuation.

“I will be brewing,” Severus told him. “I’ll simply ward my office against noise, shall I?”

“Brill,” Potter smiled at him and pushed his chair away from the table. “Thanks, Sev.”

“‘Severus’,” Severus sighed pointlessly at Potter, who simply laughed and graced him with an amused smirk.

You wanted Potter to quit calling you ‘sir’ and ‘Snape’, his subconscious reminded him in a rather snarky whisper. You got what you wanted.

Yet never in the way he wanted it.

Severus watched as the four students loudly left the table, still chattering on about their plans for their holiday, and left him alone with Barty.

“What are you brewing today?” Barty asked him politely.

“Potions,” Severus said vaguely and tersely, unsure of how to interact with the man who used to be his closest friend, but who was also the one that allowed Potter to confront the Dark Lord alone. The same man who then saved Severus’ life and advised Potter while Severus was unconscious in the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, okay.” Barty looked down at his mug of tea, resembling a kicked puppy at Severus’ cool tone.

Severus sighed at his theatrics and attempted to speak more cordially.

“I am experimenting with the properties of the medicinal base of healing potions to find the specific ingredient that causes Muggle medicines to interact so poorly with them,” he explained.

Barty lifted his head up and squinted his light blue eyes thoughtfully. “Why?” he asked, true curiosity lacing his tone. “What’s the end goal with that line of experimentation?”

“It is for a side project I am working on,” Severus said, which was quite truthful. Since Potter’s moods had been stabilized, as much as could be done medicinally, Severus turned his attention back to his research with Ramsey on utilizing basilisk venom in a potion to eradicate Muggle cancer. 

It was not until Harry was poisoned in his third year that Severus realized the horrifying snag that they would inevitably come across if their potion was ever successful - Muggles could hardly take the potion to cure cancer and then one day take an aspirin for a headache and become comatose. And, thus, a new hitch in their research had been created.

It was a hitch that Severus was finding difficult to overcome.

“Have you tried examining the potion under a microscope when you add the medication to it?” Barty suggested.

“No,” Severus eyed Barty with interest at the peculiar, and Muggle-like, suggestion. “What would that achieve?”

“Well...”

Severus sat at the table, enjoying a second cup of coffee, as Barty explained the theory to him. At some point they summoned a stack of textbooks and parchment to begin fleshing out the specific division and categorization of the atoms in the potion base and debated on how to isolate each one to identify the problem.

The unrelenting chatter, cheer, and noise aside - by the time Severus retired to his office over an hour later, he could begrudgingly admit that it was rather nice to have an intellectual discussion with a fellow adult over a topic that interested him. It was his only hobby, one that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, Albus, or any other war-time issues that he would be soon dealing with.

Damn Barty for making Severus forget that he was irritated with him.

Severus did as he planned though and warded his office against any noise. He placed an order for a new microscope, as his old one was rather outdated, and began brewing multiple variations of a medicinal base to lose himself in the soothing process. Brewing was nearly as calming to him as occlumency was. He merely had to focus on the process: preparing the ingredients, ensuring the cauldron was set for the specific brew, and following the recipes through the mixtures, making mild changes as he progressed.

He never would understand how so many idiotic witches and wizards were unable to brew even first year potions adequately, it was the simplest process to brew any potion with the right focus.

Severus relaxed himself with his brewing, comfortable in his isolated office with his research. It was only when he felt a hunger pain that he realized he had been brewing well past lunch, and placed his potions under a temporary stasis to go find a quick bite to eat.

What his relaxing brewing had pushed from his mind entirely was Potter’s plan to have ‘a few people’ come over and assist him in his relentless training for the upcoming Quidditch season.

“Sev! Hey!” Potter grinned sheepishly as Severus entered the kitchen and was faced with a large group of dirty teenagers seated around their kitchen table.

Teenagers and one adult, he corrected himself, identifying Nymphadora Tonks’ heart shaped face and bright pink hair in the group. Apparently, Potter decided to include Nymphadora in his ever expanding group of followers. Johnathan Abbott, Frederick, George, and Ronald Weasley were all casually seated in the kitchen as well, much too comfortable in Severus’s home for his taste.

“Harry,” Severus greeted Potter politely. “I was simply checking to see where the noise was coming from,” he lied smoothly.

“I will leave you to your training,” he told them all, deciding to simply return to his office and ask Mavis to bring him a bowl of soup.

“You can stay,” Tonks said brightly, her currently dark blue eyes sparkling merrily as she moved from one of the dining chairs to sit on the kitchen counter. “I was showing the boys up at flying, but we’re just having a late lunch now.”

“Harry about flew us in the ground,” George Weasley told him, quite unprompted by Severus. “He’s a right terror.”

“You’re just a shit flier,” Abbott laughed, throwing a grape at the Weasley twin.

“Says the one who crashed twice,” Ronald countered with.

Severus saw how relaxed and happy Potter was as the Weasleys and Abbott teased one another and it was only that knowledge that kept Severus from glowering at them all.

“I’m afraid I cannot stay,” Severus said. “I will be in my office if you need me,” he told Potter, backing out of the kitchen slowly.

“‘Kay,” Potter smirked over at him, undoubtedly aware of how little Severus wished to join the rowdy group. “We’ll try and keep it down so we don’t interrupt your search for the cure to cancer.”

Severus did not refrain from rolling his eyes at Potter at that remark. And, as he isolated himself in his lab once more, he heavily warded his office walls twice as securely against noise. Certainly if there was one thing he could count on the summer bringing him, it was incessant, nonstop, continuous, noise.

Severus’ theory was confirmed two mornings later as he was jolted from sleep by a series of banging noises coming from the downstairs. He immediately lunged to his feet, his fatigue leaving him as adrenaline surged through his body, and ran down the staircase, his wand drawn and ready to defend his housemates against the intruder.

... who turned out to be Frederick Weasley and Sirius Black.

“Sorry, mate,” Black said in a rather pointless whisper as Frederick loudly landed a sealed crate on top of a stack of other sealed crates along the wall of the sitting room. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“We are not mates,” Severus growled, still considering which curse would be best used. “Perhaps you would like to explain to me why you are filling my house with crates at—” Severus checked the time and glowered at the duo of unwanted intruders, “—four o’clock in the morning.”

“It was the only time they could move the books and stuff without Molly catching them,” Potter said, hopping down the stairs casually, as if unperturbed at the level of noise happening that early in the morning. “I should have warned you, sorry.”

Severus lowered his wand, and fixed Potter with a hard look.

“We will eventually be having a conversation about appropriate times of the day to rob a house,” he said, his annoyance seeping in to his tone and causing Potter to look slightly abashed.

“We aren’t robbing a house,” Potter said defensively, crossing his pajama clad arms across his chest. “It’s Sirius’ house, isn’t it? We’re just moving his stuff he doesn’t want. I’m gonna have Barty take it all downstairs, don’t worry.”

As if any plot devised by Potter and Barty that involved Black and Frederick would allow Severus to not worry.

“You can go back to sleep,” Black said. “This is the last box for now.”

“Thank you for your permission,” Severus sneered. “Though, as this is my home, I believe I will do as I please.”

Black laughed, Severus’ biting tone no longer affecting him for some reason, and shrugged casually.

“My mistake,” he said. “I’m going back to bed then, I’ll see you all later.”

Severus bit his tongue nearly to the breaking point as Black and Frederick floo’d back to Black’s ancestral home, only for Barty to come bounding up the stairs and exclaiming happily at the sight of the boxes.

“They did it!” he cried, his face lighting up with excitement at finally being able to explore the Black family library as Regulus had always promised him the chance to. It was a dream that Regulus died before being able to fulfill. “Do you guys have any idea the kind of history and secrets that must be buried in here?” Barty asked. 

Potter shrugged in a tired sort of motion, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he drawled. “I’m going back to bed now that they’re done.”

Severus was sorely tempted to follow suit until Barty looked pleadingly at him.

“Want to help me sort a few boxes?” he asked Severus, the excitement dimming down to a more mournful look of reminiscence. “I never really thought I’d be able to go through them... You know, after we lost Reg.”

What a positively ideal morning. Who would not want to be awoken at four o’clock, by Black of all people, then immediately deal with a guilt trip regarding the death of a friend?

Terrific, truly. 

“I have time to assist with a few boxes,” Severus told him evenly, mildly interested in the contents of the boxes despite himself.

“Brilliant,” Barty levitated a crate to Severus, landing it much quieter than Black and Frederick had. “Be careful, I’m sure a lot of it’s cursed.”

As if Severus required such a warning.

The two of them worked companionably enough, sorting through boxes as the sun rose and cast a bright glow across the sitting room. They had organized four of the crates’ contents into separate piles: books, artifacts, cursed artifacts, and personal mementos.

It was the personal mementos that Black sent along to them that pulled up old memories and sparked reluctant chuckles and stories from the two of them.

“Remember when he got this?” Barty grinned, holding up Regulus’s prefect badge. “Merlin, he was insufferable.”

“Positively intolerable,” Severus agreed fondly. “Of course Slughorn pushed for him to get it over Evan or myself—”

“Because Reg was the only one of us sneaky enough to evade detentions for his wrongdoings,” Barty cut in with a weak chuckle. “Sneaky prat.”

Severus fondly remembered multiple times when the three of them would retaliate against another student for various reasons, only for Regulus to slip away the moment a teacher arrived.

In hindsight, it was a rather large red flag for how Regulus slipped away and left the two of them behind when he attempted to leave the Dark Lord’s following.

Barty sighed, as if his mind had followed the same train of thought as Severus’ did. Which was rather likely as they had spent nearly ten years of their lives by each other’s side as fellow students, Death Eaters, and friends.

“I think I’ll take some of these books and sort through the rest later,” Barty told Severus. “Do you mind me leaving this stuff up here for now? I’ve just brought the books from my father’s library down to the basement, I’d like to organize them before I add much more down there.”

Severus waved him off, unconcerned with the mess across his sitting room at present.

“I’ll move these to my office,” Severus said, indicating the pile of cursed artifacts. “As Harry treats our floo as a constant revolving door of irritating guests, it would be best to not have them on display.”

Barty laughed before quickly sobering as a new thought occurred to him.

“I don’t have to stay here, not really,” he said quietly, scuffing the carpet with the brown house shoes he wore. “I know Harry said it was safest here, but really I could leave, you know. I could find somewhere just as safe. You don’t have to put up with me here if you don’t want me here.”

Severus considered him carefully as Barty silently stared down at the floor. On the one hand, it would be one less person making noise in Severus’ residence, but on the other hand...

“You are my friend and you are welcome to stay as long as you would like,” Severus said, releasing Barty from his previous egregious mistake and choosing to solidify their renewed friendship aloud. “You are hardly as irksome as Frederick Weasley or Hermione Granger,” he added with a smirk.

“Hermione?” Barty smiled across the room at him, clearly pleased with Severus’ statement and graciously choosing not to force them in to a further sentimental moment. “I like her.”

“Of course you would,” Severus scoffed. “The girl is a walking encyclopedia and a relentless know it all who can never keep her opinion to herself. I’m quite sure you find her to remind you of someone else we both know.”

“Exactly,” Barty agreed, seeing Severus’ insult as a compliment in the way only a true Ravenclaw would. “She’s a bright witch, I can’t imagine what options she’ll have when she graduates.”

“Perhaps she’ll grow to become the next Dark Lord,” Severus said with a quirk to his lips. “Especially since the ‘Dark Lord Barty’ is setting the example for her.”

“Maybe,” Barty agreed with a laugh. “She’d probably have to fight Harry for it though. He’s pretty terrifying isn’t he?”

“Quite,” Severus agreed proudly. Potter was leagues away from the nervous, stammering child who jumped at his own shadow that Severus met four years ago. If that meant Potter was feared by some, so be it. Severus much preferred the young man his ward had grown to be over the child he once was.

Barty scoffed, but he did so with a glitter of amusement in his eyes, as he began moving items to their new locations.

By the time the stack of books had moved to Barty’s quarters in the basement suite, and the cursed artifacts were secured in Severus’ office, Severus naively thought that perhaps with his quarrel with Barty put behind them that the summer would not be as troublesome as he originally believed it to be.

Which, he knew better.

Any summer involving Potter was promised to be irksome, troublesome, and only ever mildly amusing.

Not that Severus would admit to ever occasionally being amused by Potter’s antics.

“PROFESSOR SNAPE!” Theodore shouted from upstairs. “GET YOUR CRAZY CHILD UNDER CONTROL!”

Severus groaned as he looked mournfully down at his freshly brewed cappuccino. Reheated cappuccinos were not the same, though it was the only drink Severus had thus far.

“What is the problem now?” Severus asked as he entered the boys’s room. They were only in the middle of July and hardly a day had passed in their household without a disagreement, heated debate, or an uninvited (and unwanted, in Severus’ opinion) guest had caused some sort of disturbance. As it was barely six in the morning, he had trouble understanding what problem the boys were already having for the day and he had no patience to fulfill the role of peacemaker between the two of them.

Though, once he entered the room he immediately saw what the obvious problem was.

“Absolutely not,” Severus sighed heavily. He could feel a migraine building in the space between his eyes, one that throbbed in tandem with every word he spoke. “Harry, where on Earth did you acquire a King Cobra?”

Potter was laid up on his bed, tenderly wrapped up in the grip of a ten foot long, dark brown cobra; and he was hissing at it in a blatantly loving tone in Parsletongue.

“I needed him,” Potter said, easily switching back to English. “Timmy has a snake. So I’m going to use Stevie to kill Nagini.”

“I asked where did you get him, not why,” Severus repeated, ignoring the deplorable name Potter chose.

‘Sevvie’. ‘Stevie’. ‘Mister Snoop’.

Severus wished his ward would quit mocking his name at every given chance. He also fervently prayed that Harry had no ability to name a child for many years.

“What’s going on?” Barty asked, poking his head in the room, having unearthed himself from the books he had taken to carrying around obsessively to see what the shouting was about. “MERLIN! Is that a King Cobra?”

“Yup.” Potter stroked the cobra’s head tenderly as it hissed loudly at Severus and Barty. “His name’s Stevie.”

“He’s brilliant,” Barty sighed, eyeing the reptile with the look of a man intent upon learning all there was to know about the fucking deadly snake in their home.

“Snape, he’s trying to keep it in here!” Theodore cried, huddling carefully as far from Potter as possible while still remaining in the same room. “Tell him he can’t keep a King Cobra in our bedroom! It’ll kill me in my sleep!”

“Not if I tell him not to,” Potter said. The three others watched as Potter switched to Parsletongue and continued casually carrying on a conversation with the deadly serpent.

“He says he won’t kill you unless I tell him to,” Potter smiled at Theodore after the snake hissed back at Potter and bobbed its head up and down multiple times. “So it’s fine.”

“IT IS NOT FINE!” Theodore shouted, his face flushed with either fear or anger, or likely an equal mixture of the two. “HERMIONE WON’T COME OVER WHILE IT’S HERE! SNAPE! HE IS YOUR PSYCHOTIC TEENAGER - THIS IS YOUR BLOODY PROBLEM!”

Severus sighed heavily once more as Theodore shoved past him and Barty to storm dramatically down the stairs.

Miss Granger refusing to come back to their home was almost reason enough to allow Potter to keep the snake. If Frederick Weasley held the same qualms, it would seal the deal.

Though, Severus was quite sure that any fool who fell in love with a dangerous young man such as Potter would hardly have the sense of self-preservation to fear one of the largest and most deadly snakes in the world.

“I think we should keep it,” Barty said wistfully as he took a few slow steps towards Potter and the snake. “It’ll be like a guard venomous snake for our family.”

“We are not a family,” Severus corrected him. Families had no choice in the matter; Severus, Theodore, and Barty were all chosen by Potter. They were a something, but family was not the correct term.

Although, he was beginning to feel as if he were an unappreciated parent with the three exhausting and immature housemates he had.

“Exactly!” Potter beamed at Barty after rolling his eyes at Severus. “I knew you’d get it.”

Of course Barty ‘got it’. Because he was as deranged, deluded, and mentally unwell as Potter was.

So it was up to Severus to find a way to convince Potter to get rid of the cobra, entirely without the assistance of the other ‘adult’ in the household.

“Where did it come from, Harry?” he repeated once more, quite sternly.

Severus groaned out loud at Potter’s suddenly evasive look and mentally corrected his previous thought:

Severus had to find a way to convince Potter to get rid of the dangerous, venomous, and definitely illegally imported cobra.

“A gift from a friend,” Potter said evasively.

“Zabini?” Severus guessed shrewdly, taking Potter’s quick shift in his gaze as confirmation of his guess. Though he would wager that it was the Contessa Zabini who sent it, rather than Blaise.

That woman was constantly encouraging Potter’s mad schemes.

“Harry, it is dangerous,” Severus said, as if logic worked on Potter. “And you could be arrested for even having it. I believe there are permits you must acquire lest it be taken from you and sent back to its natural habitat.”

“Ugh,” Potter sighed and stroked the snake’s head with his index finger. “I bet permits are hard to get too,” he said mournfully.

“They are,” Severus said, latching on to the perfectly logical reason why Potter could not keep the ‘gift’. “The Ministry rarely grants them, and typically only for research purposes.”

“I can get it at the Ministry?” Potter asked, his expression clearing so quickly that Severus had the sudden realization that he had walked into a verbal trap. “Brill, that won’t be hard at all then.”

It likely wouldn’t. Potter had the Minister wrapped around his finger.

Though how that meant that Severus was trapped to reside with a second dangerous and deadly creature, Potter being the first of course, seemed rather unfair.

“Does it not bother you that Granger refuses to come here while you have it?” Severus asked, quickly shifting arguments in hopes of finding one that would convince Potter to give up ‘Stevie’.

“Tell her you’ll translate for her so she can study it with actual questions and answers,” Barty said, already kneeling beside Potter’s bed and studying the reptile up close. “She’ll jump at the chance I bet.”

“Bartemius,” Severus growled at the other man. “Perhaps I will handle this alone.”

Barty looked up at Severus, startled by his icy tone, then nodded quickly once he saw the irritation on his face.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, hastily getting to his feet. “Just let me know if we’re keeping it, I’ve always wanted to talk to a snake.”

“We are not keeping it,” Severus told him firmly.

However, arguing with Potter for a further fourty-two minutes, Severus would have to change his statement. It appeared that they would in fact be keeping it.

Severus was beginning to wish the damn snake would bite him and leave the rest of the world to deal with the storm of chaos that Potter brought to those around him.

***

“SURPRISE!”

Potter appeared terribly bored as he blinked around at the gathered guests in the yard who had endeavored to surprise him on his birthday.

Severus was not one of them. Severus had the foresight to warn Potter the night before due to the child’s preference for cursing first, questioning second.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” Bones yelled, crushing Potter in a hug. “Did we surprise you?”

“Sure,” Potter lied.

“No, we didn’t,” Draco scoffed. “You didn’t even twitch.”

“I was surprised on the inside,” Potter insisted with a playful grin. “Good to see you, how’s Italy?”

“Italy is delightful,” Narcissa said, sliding between Potter’s friends to hug him lightly. “Simply marvelous. You should come stay with us before you return to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Potter hummed unconvincingly. “Where’s the Contessa? And Lucius?”

“Lucius will be here shortly,” Narcissa said warmly. “He was waiting for an opportunity to slip away.”

“And Mother is dealing with foreign difficulties,” Blaise said with a juvenile roll of his eyes. “Apparently Timmy’s return, because none of them are idiotic enough to believe your cover story, is causing quite the conundrum for the Italian Counsel of Magic.”

“Why?” Granger asked curiously.

“Because Mother is formally allied with Harry,” Blaise said patiently, as if it were meant to be common sense.

Which, for the son of a political powerhouse such as the Italian Contessa, it likely was.

“And so she’s insisting on securing vows from the others to not align with Timmy or Dumbledore,” Blaise continued, the rest of the guests hanging on his every word. “Dumbledore is fine, nobody wants to ally with him since about ten years after he imprisoned Grindewald, but Timmy is interesting to the others on the counsel. A man who can’t die? He’s an anomaly and the counsel loves anomalies.”

Nobody spoke for a moment, likely weighing their own individual horror at the thought of the Dark Lord gaining foreign allies, until Neville Longbottom chuckled quietly.

“Well, Harry’s an anomaly too,” he said with a lopsided grin, shoving his dark blonde hair off his forehead self-consciously. “Just one of a kind, aren’t you, Harry?”

“That he is,” Frederick agreed.

The tense moment then broken, the group split up and began separate side conversations. Severus somehow got roped into one with Lupin and Barty while Narcissa and Black talked off to the side.

“Hard to believe he’s only fifteen, isn’t it?” Barty said.

Severus watched Potter as he interacted with his friends and studied him closely. Potter had grown considerably the past year, he was nearly as tall as Severus was by then. Potter wore a long sleeved white shirt, still self-consciously covering his arms which had become leanly toned from years of quidditch and dueling, which offset his skin tone nicely. He finally had a consistently healthy pallor to his skin; a summer tan that caused his eyes to appear a brighter green and made his messy black hair suit him much more than the sickly pale color he once had. 

Potter still moved gracefully, with vigilance and ease, but his previously twitchy movements had ceased, thankfully. Despite what others may have believed about Potter, his childishly delicate features had hardened slightly to resemble more Harry than he ever would Lily or James.

More than any of the physical changes that happened along with maturity, Potter finally carried a sense of confidence and purpose that made him stand straighter, speak louder. It was an aura that drew others to him like a summoning charm.

“Seems like yesterday he was just a tiny little baby terrorizing Lily’s cat,” Lupin chuckled.

“And now he is a young man terrorizing me,” Severus said drily. “I suppose some things will never change.”

Lupin and Barty both laughed, which reminded Severus that it was Remus Lupin with whom he was exchanging jokes with and so he excused himself quickly.

Merlin forbid the man began considering Severus to be on friendly terms with him.

Severus was inordinately relieved when Lucius finally made an appearance, a green wrapped package in hand and a harried expression on his face.

“Lucius,” Severus greeted him and quickly summoned a drink for him. “How are you?”

He would never admit it out loud, but he had been under considerable stress wondering how Lucius was faring with the Dark Lord in his home. It was no menial task, spying. The Dark Lord was formidable, his rage would be swift if Lucius were to be caught. 

“Fine, thank you,” Lucius said, graciously accepting the drink and swallowing it quickly. “The Dark Lord has left the country for a couple of weeks, a welcome reprieve. Though I’m afraid I can’t stay long, apparently my home has become a hostel for His followers.”

Severus raised his glass in empathy and watched as Lucius made his way to Narcissa and Draco. Glancing around the crowded yard, Severus was struck anew with surprise at the incredibly odd group of guests that were gathered.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Barty Crouch sharing drinks and conversation beside the broomshed, seven years of antagonistic quarrels and rivalries shoved aside as they were then on the same side of the impending war. The Weasley boys who were participating in a friendly duel with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott; unlikely allies and even unlikelier friends. 

Narcissa was speaking with Granger, Severus could see as the older witch was gesturing towards the younger one's bushy brown curls, undoubtedly discussing some form of hair care. Draco temporarily reunited with his currently estranged father as Lucius fulfilled Severus’ prior role in the war. Bones, Longbottom, and Potter were each enjoying a slice of cake, entirely at ease with their group of mixed company.

Severus suspected that Potter may be the only being to ever live that would be able to draw together such a diverse group and usher them all toward a common goal.

“I told you he was going to change everything.”

Severus glanced next to him and rose a single brow at the blonde-haired witch who had silently joined his side.

“You did,” he told her, recalling Lovegood’s exact words to him in her first year.

“He’s so angry and alone. He’s going to change the world.”

“He’s not alone anymore though,” she said softly. “You changed him so he could change everyone else.”

“Hmm.” Severus could think of no response to that so he opted to remain silent. Lovegood, however, was quite able to maintain a conversation without his input.

“Everything’s going to keep changing,” she said with a sort of airy confidence that Severus assumed she gained from the seeing abilities he was confident she held. “Except for Harry, he’ll always be special.”

Severus looked around himself once more and nodded in absent agreement with Lovegood. Potter certainly was special.

“Have you lost your God damned mind?!” Severus yelled at his ‘special’ child only minutes later, drawing the eyes of Potter’s friends from their gathering place around Potter. Potter looked up from the gift he had just opened from Lucius, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses as they met Severus’ irate gaze.

“What?” Lucius said defensively, sharing a bewildered look with Barty, who shrugged at him helplessly. “Potter likes weapons! He has a whole wall of them! You let him take Pettigrew’s dagger! What’s the problem here?”

Severus absolutely did not ‘let Potter’ steal a dagger from the man he killed last month. It had been serendipity then, only pure stupidity at the moment. 

Severus also hardly appreciated Potter’s ‘wall of weapons’, which included a spear from the Merchief he attacked during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, various stolen and gifted daggers and knives, and the goblin-wrought, basilisk-soaked, sword that Lucius gave him in his second year.

But that was quite aside the point at present.

“The problem is that you have gifted my impulsive fifteen year old with a semi-automatic pistol,” Severus seethed. He saw Lupin nodding frantically in agreement from the corner of his eye and bit back on the irritation that coursed through him that he found himself in a situation where he was once again being empathized with by Remus Lupin.

“And it’s a weapon... right?” Lucius clarified slowly. “I know it’s a muggle thing, but Borgin assured me of its rarity in the wixen world and I thought Potter may enjoy it? How is it different from the knives, swords, and spears?”

“Will it even work then? If it’s a muggle weapon?” Barty asked curiously, eyeing the gun Potter was lovingly handling. “If it’s muggle, it might not, right? Because of the high concentration of magic?”

       BANG! 

“It works!” Potter cried with a blindingly bright smile.

Severus looked at the fucking hole in the wall of their house and felt his eye beginning to twitch. He wondered which was actually the bigger threat to his life —

Attempting to raise Harry God-Damned Potter, or being in the top three of the Dark Lord’s ‘to kill’ list?

Definitely Potter, Severus decided quickly as Potter tossed an apple to Ronald Weasley and Severus immediately had to step in to stop what was supposed to be ‘a super brill idea’ that Potter ‘saw in a movie with Susan’.

Perhaps a vacation is in order, he thought to himself as he began another disagreement over safety with his ward. The moment Potter is an adult, a mere two years until Potter is of age.

Potter being special, one of a kind, or not… Severus was beginning to highly doubt his own ability to live that long.

Chapter Text

After his ‘surprise’ party, Harry had been enjoying laying in his bed with Fred. Theo and Hermione’s absence was apparently a birthday gift to him.

“That tickles,” Harry murmured with a quirk of his lips as Fred slowly kissed down the side of his neck.

“Good,” Fred huffed out a light chuckle and continued his soft assault on Harry’s neck. “It’d sure be a shame if I made you laugh on your birthday.”

Harry ran his hand lightly across Fred’s muscular shoulders as pleasure twisted his stomach.

“You make me laugh all the time,” he admitted as he arched his back at a particularly rough, but pleasant, bite to the sensitive area where Harry’s neck met his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Fred picked his face up from Harry’s neck, the rest of his long and lean body stretched across the top of Harry’s, though his weight carefully on his forearms to prevent Harry from feeling smothered, and he grinned wickedly.

“Are you sensitive there, love?” he said, his deep blue eyes smoldering at Harry’s pathetic and desire-filled soft panting. “D’you want me to do something to help you out?” he teased.

“Yess,” Harry moaned, well past caring what he sounded like around Fred.

Fred who was so soft and warm.

Fred who was funny and bright and loyal.

Fred who knew his body rather well by that point, though Harry couldn’t pinpoint when he collected all his knowledge.

Fred who didn’t care that Harry’s skin was marred and mangled - Fred who didn’t think his scarred outside matched the broken mess on the inside.

Fred who loved him.

Loved him.

Loved.

Him.

“Use your words, darlin’,” Fred whispered against Harry’s chest as his mouth roamed around Harry’s torso- seemingly aimlessly. “Should I move lower?”

“Fuck. Yes.” Harry ran his fingernails up Fred’s back lightly as Fred moved his body lower until only his chest was hovering over Harry’s legs. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Fred whispered, his fingers tracing the top of Harry’s pants as he looked over Harry’s face closely. “We can stop.”

Harry knew that usually they stopped by that point. Normally they didn’t do more than kiss and explore one another with their eyes, hands, and occasionally their mouths, but he wanted to do more than that.

It wasn’t Fred who ever wanted to stop. It wasn’t Harry who ever said to stop.

But once, just once, Harry wanted to experience with Fred what he knew other people his age experienced within their relationships.

“I want to,” Harry told him truthfully. “Do you?”

“God yes,” Fred laughed. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry hummed, unsure of whether the affection he feels towards Fred was love or not and unwilling to lie just then.

“You’re gorgeous,” Fred whispered, kissing Harry’s hip bone and slowly freeing Harry from the remainder of his clothes. “Absolutely—”

Harry, who had closed his eyes in anticipation as Fred had been breathing against his navel and hip as he spoke, refocused on Fred since he abruptly quit talking.

“Harry, we can stop,” Fred said in a gentle tone that was out of place in the current mood. “I’m sorry, am I pressuring you?”

“No, why’d you stop?” Harry cocked his head curiously at Fred’s shift in his tone and the way he was slightly drawing away from Harry’s body.

“I don’t think you’re really in the mood then,” Fred said, snagging their discarded clothes off the side of the bed and offering Harry his with a sweet smile. “Which is fine,” he went on, “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.”

“I bloody well do,” Harry protested, the previous desire filling him twisting in to annoyance. “I’m not a liar.”

“Darlin.” Harry followed Fred’s eyes to where he sent a pointed look to and blushed for an entirely new reason.

“What the fuck?!” Harry twisted off the bed and hit the floor with a soft thud. “That’s... that’s not right,” he protested. “What the fuck?”

Harry didn’t have a lot of experience with his own body, most of the time he tried to forget he even had a body as much as he constantly disliked it, but he was positive that all the wanting he was experiencing should have had some sort of effect on… himself. But where the hard proof of that desire should have been was just... flat.

“I- Jesus Christ.” Harry was certain that he had never once in his life been as embarrassed as he currently had been, and that was saying something. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he hastily snagged his sweatpants and pulled them back on, skipping his pants entirely in an effort to quickly hide his - his dysfunction.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Fred said easily, already wearing his own pajama bottoms and stretching out lazily on Harry’s bed. “I’m sorry, I should have realized you weren’t in to it.”

“I was in to it!” Harry said hotly, his face burning as he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall instead of Fred. “I don’t know why that happened. Or, why it didn’t happen,” he corrected himself.

“Are you sure?” Fred asked quietly. “Because you aren’t going to hurt my feelings, I only want to go as far as you want to.”

“I wanted to,” Harry assured him, laying back on the pillows but continuing to avoid eye contact, still mortified as his body’s lack of a physical reaction. “I just... I dunno, maybe I’m tired?” He didn’t feel tired, but he wasn’t sure what other explanation there was besides just another way he was freakishly broken.

“Hey, Harry, look at me.”

Harry reluctantly, very, very reluctantly, turned his head slightly so he could see Fred’s face.

“You know it’s normal, right? This isn’t a big deal.”

Harry could hardly doubt the sincerity in Fred’s voice when it rang clearly in every syllable he spoke. His eyes, Harry’s favorite thing about him physically, were clear and deceit free. But just because Fred thought it was normal didn’t mean it was true.

“It’s not normal,” Harry mumbled, still embarrassed, and more ashamed than ever, by his malfunctioning body.

“Course it is,” Fred said, adjusting his position on the bed so he laid on his side, his head propped up by his hand, while he talked easily to Harry.

As if Harry didn’t repulse him or - or offend him, the way Harry thought he might have been offended if he had been in Fred’s place.

Harry would never trade his magical power for anything, he loved the way magic made feel special as he spun and controlled it in his hands, but there were times that he thought he would kill just to feel normal. Not ‘one of a kind’, but normal.

“It’s more common in wizards because we have more outside elements that can mess with our systems, much more than muggles deal with,” Fred said in an uncharacteristically factual manner. “My mum told me that.”

Harry’s bleak outlook on this conversation cleared for a moment-

“Your mum talked to you about... about...” Harry broke off and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“She did,” Fred said with a solemn tone that was undercut by his newly sparkling eyes. “She called it ‘the sex talk’ and it was traumatic, darlin’. I may need a kiss from a handsome bloke to truly erase the memory from my mind.”

Harry scoffed as Fred puckered his lips up. “Too bad,” he said unsympathetically. “Snape gave me the ‘sex talk’.”

A riot, really. Harry thought he knew more about sex than Snape did, though Snape had covered things Harry didn’t consider before.

Fred’s mouth popped open and he looked horrified for a moment until both of them started cracking up with laughter. The talk with Snape hadn’t been funny, not in the slightest, but with some time having passed since it happened, Harry felt he could laugh about it.

“So he told you that there’s lots of reasons that happens and none mean you’re not normal, right?” Fred asked after their laughter died down to just fond smiles.

“Er...” Harry scrunched his brows down as he tried to remember Snape ever mentioning any reason that Harry could feel his body filling up with pleasure on the inside and yet remain entirely unaffected on the outside. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Welllll... there’s stress, which I’m sure you know nothing about,” Fred joked. “And illnesses, of course. But I think the most common in wizards is old age and potions. So clearly this is happening because you’re old now.”

Harry pulled the pillow from behind his own head to smack Fred with.

“I’m not old,” he said with mock outrage. “I’m young and planning on staying this way forever.”

“You and every witch in her twenties,” Fred winked.

Harry grinned over at him and felt warmth bloom in his chest as Fred leaned over and pecked him lightly on the nose. It really was the one thing that Harry liked the most about Fred: his relentless cheer could calm Harry almost as well as occluding did.

Harry had thought that Hermione and Theo were a perfect match, as terribly alike as the two of them were. But he didn’t need someone by his side who was as shifty with their moods and constantly itching for a fight, he needed Fred. Dependable, optimistic, calming Fred.

“So... potions then?” Harry said after they’d been comfortably quiet for a few long moments. “That’s what’s causing... this?”

“Could be,” Fred said, seemingly unconcerned with what Harry considered to be a pretty terrible personal failure. “But I’d say it could be stress too if you aren’t taking any potions on a regular basis. Or you could just not be feeling it, love, it’s really not a big deal.”

God damnit.

That potion.

Of course his potion would ruin things with Fred too. It took away the addictively high feeling of mania, and then it took away Harry’s feeling of manhood and complete control of his body.

Fucking manic-depressive illness.

Fucking messed up brain.

“It’s potions,” Harry sighed, twisting to lay on his back and stare dejectedly up at his bedroom ceiling. “It’s always that damn illness.”

Harry could almost practically taste Fred’s attempt to remain casual as he mentioned his ‘mental illness’ aloud to him for the first time.

“What illness?”

Harry remained flat on his back, his arms folded behind his head as he followed through on his subconsciously determined decision to trust Fred with at least as much as two of his friends knew about him.

Harry trusted Fred before, with other secrets, and, as far as he knew, Fred never shared them with anyone. Plus, it made Fred happy to learn more about Harry, which made Harry happy sometimes. So it was a risk, but not an uncalculated one.

“It’s called Manic-Depressive Illness,” he said. Harry was pleased his voice was so even considering he was internally sweating over if Fred would want to be dating someone whose brain couldn’t decide on a single mood to stick with. “I have to take a potion for it. Every month. So...” he trailed off and would have shrugged if he weren’t lying on his bed, “So that’s probably what’s wrong.”

One.

Two.

Three.

Harry was taking his fourth slowly measured inhale when Fred responded.

“What’s manic mean?” he asked, his voice lacking the biting disgust Harry had feared he would hear. “I mean, I know what depression is, but I’ve never heard of manic.”

Harry turned his head to see Fred’s face and felt a weight shift off his chest once he did. There was no pity there, no disgust, no obvious cringing away from Harry’s brokenness. He just looked curious.

“Manic is brill, Fred,” Harry admitted with a wry smile. “It’s like... like flying, but better. Everything in your head is sharper and better and brilliant.”

Fred chuckled quietly at Harry’s tone of wistful love while Harry considered the bad part of the mania.

“Makes me impulsive too,” he admitted. “Snape hates it more than the depression I think.”

“Impulsive like attacking a dragon with a sword?” Fred suggested wryly. Harry grinned at Fred’s accurate guess.

“Exactly like that.”

“I’m starting to feel like the ‘manic episodes’ are worth it if the potions going to mess with... you know.” Harry blushed, unwilling to put the problem in to words but knowing Fred understood his meaning anyway.

“Oh, I dunno about that,” Fred disagreed. “Because it’s not just feeling like you’re flying, right? It’s depression too?”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbled, unhappy with the reminder of the bleakness that depression forced him to wallow in. “That part’s a right bitch.”

Fred laughed, as he usually did at Harry’s casual cursing. “Charlie used to get depression real bad,” he said as he readjusted himself to put his head by Harry’s and twisting their side by side legs together. “It looked terrible, I can’t imagine you’d want to deal with that on a regular basis.”

“Your brother Charlie?” Harry asked, surprised. He knew Theo had depression, they’d somehow bonded over their similar difficulties when Theo shared that information with him, but he couldn’t imagine why Charlie did. Charlie had a huge family that, besides Percy, all seemed to love and support each other constantly. Just - just constant love and hugs and affection and acceptance. “What’s he got to be sad about?” he asked with a small amount of bitterness in his voice. “He’s got a great life, yeah?”

“It’s more than just ‘being sad’,” Fred told him gently. “I don’t think it mattered how his life was, his brain just worked differently, didn’t it? He’d have these horrible times where he’d just lay in bed and refuse to get up. Sometimes he’d burn himself ‘just to feel alive’ he said, it was terrible. Mum and Dad did their best to try and fix it, but I don’t think it really got better until Charlie left for Romania. That’s why Mum didn’t really kick up much of a fuss when he left Hogwarts a year early.”

“That’s... that’s messed up,” Harry said quietly, uncomfortably feeling a sense of camaraderie with Charlie.

“I know you hate him, but Charlie’s probably the nicest of all my brothers. He’s got a big heart, like Lue, and hates to see other people unhappy which is why it was so tough on everyone seeing him so miserable,” Fred said.

“I don’t hate him,” Harry said, his sense of discomfort at hearing about such a vulnerable side of Charlie growing. “It’s just... he looks like this bloke I saw once...”

Fred rolled on to his side, keeping his leg hooked with Harry’s, and let Harry stroke his hair as he talked. Fred took everything else so well and it made Harry talk too much sometimes. It made him think he could sort his thoughts out to someone, rather than only in his head.

“I was probably nine, sleeping in alleyways, yeah? And one night I was hiding behind a dumpster, trying not to freeze to death, and there was a homeless guy out in the alley,” Harry explained slowly, watching it all play out again while he talked.

“He was drunk, but harmless, and he’d given me a pack of crisps before I ducked behind the dumpster. But this guy comes in the alley to take a piss, and he was huge, bulky, not fat. His arms were as round as my whole body was, and he had red hair, and looked just like Charlie, except maybe Charlie’s more even muscular than he was. Anyway...”

Fred listened quietly as Harry talked about the first time he’d actually seen someone die. Harry saw dead bodies before, they were easily found in London if someone visited the places that Harry had, but before then he’d never seen anyone actually be killed. And it hadn’t been a quick, nor clean, death either.

Harry knew it hadn’t been Charlie Weasley who did it, only a man with similar features. And maybe Charlie looked like he could crush Harry’s skull open until the ground was painted in the pink mush like the old man’s head was, if he was of a mind to, but he also used to burn himself just to feel alive, and Harry knew that thought, that feeling.

It didn’t do much for Harry, telling Fred about the old man and the sound of bones crushing under boots, it seemed to put Fred to sleep though. Because through it all, with all the new secrets Harry shared, Fred never interrupted him or did anything more than remain a comforting presence at his side as he talked. After he was done talking, only silently thinking of how a light really did dim when someone’s life ended, Fred held Harry tightly and the two of them slept just like that.

It took Harry nearly three days after what he dubbed ‘The Incident’ with Fred to work up the courage to talk to Snape about it. Not about the Charlie stuff, there wasn’t really much to say about that, Harry just decided to try and be a bit friendlier to Fred’s older brother the next time he saw him, but about the... problem he’d had physically.

Finally, one morning during their customary early breakfast together, long before Barty or Theo would be awake, Harry squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

“C-can I ask you something?”

Snape sat his paper down and calmly met Harry’s nervous gaze for the entire second Harry held it.

“Of course you may.”

Harry took a deep breath, counting his inhale and exhale time to slow his racing pulse, and fought through his embarrassment to get a definite answer.

“The potion I take, does it have any... s-side effects?” Harry glared at the wall behind Snape and ground his teeth, annoyed at his own shaky speech. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. If Fred could talk about things like this with his Mum then Harry certainly could with Snape.

Snape had never once in all the time Harry had known him ever laughed at anything Harry said to him. And Harry had once asked if Snape thought he looked charming or not. Which was a riot to remember, though Snape said he did.

Snape’s brows furrowed over his eyes for a split second. “Aside from the ones you previously experienced when you first began this regimen?”

“Yeah.”

“Such as what?” Snape asked him.

Harry sighed in exasperation.

“It’s not working,” he said bluntly, gesturing to the affected area. “So... is it a side effect of the potion, or am I just - just broken?”

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment, unblinking, before his left eyelid abruptly twitched.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Harry was cheered by Snape suddenly avoiding eye contact as well and taking several deep breaths to steady himself. “When did you first notice the dysfunction?” he asked in a clinical sort of tone.

“Three nights ago,” Harry said with a furious blush as he admitted to his incredibly private evening.

“As much as I would desperately prefer to not know the answer to this, I cannot tell you if it is a side effect of your potion or not if you do not answer honestly,” Snape said. “Prior to three nights ago, were you functioning normally? Becoming stimulated sexual—”

“I dunno,” Harry interrupted him, his blush somehow becoming even brighter at the question. It would be easier to kill them both, probably. Except then Harry would also have to kill Fred and that would take time. “I hadn’t, er, tested it before then.”

Snape covered his eyes with one hand as he rested his chin in his other hand.

“When was the last time you absolutely remember having a natural erection - in the mornings, sexually stimulated, or otherwise?”

“Valentine’s Day in my third year,” Harry said quickly, having already considered that question himself.

Snape’s hand flew off his face as he stared at Harry incredulously.

“You have not been sexually intimate with Frederick, or anyone, since that date?”

“No. We just... uh... kiss... and cuddle,” Harry mumbled.

Harry sorely wished he could wipe this conversation from both his and Snape’s minds once it was done.

Embarrassing.

“And you are quite positive that you have not had an erection at all since then?” Snape asked with disbelief.

“Positive,” Harry sighed. “So it is broken forever.” Harry interpreted Snape’s shock as a worst case scenario and slumped down in his seat. “Fuckin’ brill.”

Just one more thing about himself that was different from everyone else.

How long was Fred going to put up with that?

“Harry,” Snape’s voice lowered in to a soothing tone. “Did you not think it was odd? You live in a male dormitory nine months out of the year, surely you knew most males your age have frequent erections?”

“Not really,” Harry said flatly, disappointed and annoyed they were still discussing it. “I never needed it for anything until—”

“Stop.” Snape held a hand up as he interrupted Harry. “I would prefer to not know the specifics that drew this dilemma to your attention as long as it was safe and consensual.”

“Course it was,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Not that it matters now that I’m some sort of - of freak who can’t get it up.”

Snape muttered something that sounded like a colorful curse, before silently summoning a potion.

“You are not a freak, I would prefer you to never refer to yourself in such a way again,” he told Harry sternly. “Erectile dysfunction is a common side effect of your potion, one I will attempt to adjust the properties of to account for. This,” he held up the sky blue potion and tilted it from side to side, the sunlight making the vial send light rainbows across the table top, “will work in the meantime.” Snape held the bottle out, but when Harry reached for it, he pulled it back slightly.

“Are you happy with your relationship with Frederick? Do you feel as if you are equal partners in all aspects?” he asked Harry, his eyes scorching in to Harry’s as he waited an honest answer. Which Harry would give him, since it seemed like Snape was doing him a huge favor with this potion and adjusting his monthly one.

“Yes, and yes,” Harry said decisively after thinking the question over carefully.

Sort of. If they were in a real fight, Harry would have to protect Fred. If they were in a catty fight like Susan had with Hermione at times, Fred would have to be the one to apologize.

Equal enough though.

“Very well.” Snape handed over the potion and gave Harry a faint smile as he quickly pocketed the bottle. “One mouthful ten minutes before you would like the desired effect to take place. And despite any embarrassment you may feel, you must inform me immediately if you have an erection that lasts longer than four hours, understand?”

“Yes,” Harry said, leaping to his feet in an effort to get some space from one of the most mortifying conversations in the world.

“Safe, consensual, and pleasurable for both parties!” Snape yelled after Harry, reminding him of the other mortifying conversation they’d had last summer as he booked it from the kitchen.

“Thanks, Sevvvv,” Harry drawled loudly and irritatingly as he ran up the stairs.

Snape being embarrassing aside, at least Harry had an actual solution to his current problem.

Why couldn’t every problem in his life be so easily fixed with a potion?

***

“You’re sure?” Fred whispered.

It had taken Harry a couple of days to find a way to subtly kick Theo out of their room for the night. The dividing wall and privacy charms were fine for most nights, but not anymore.

Harry made a plan and the plan was to make things special, or something.

Harry invited Fred over again and made sure he had the potion Snape gave him on hand, ready to follow through with what he desperately had wanted to do a few nights ago.

Safe, consensual, pleasurable. Though Harry was mostly interested in the pleasurable part of it.

Harry looked up at Fred’s face, his own vision slightly blurred from the overwhelming want he had been feeling even before taking the potion and he nodded.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice breathless but confident.

Fred lovingly ran his hands down the length of Harry’s body, ending on his hips as he raised them up.

“If I do something wrong, or you don’t like it, tell me,” Fred said.

“I will,” Harry agreed.

“Promise?”

“Fuck. I promise.” Harry would have probably promised anything then just to get some sort of release from the teasing build up Fred put him through.

Fred grinned down at him, his hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes as bright as Harry had ever seen them.

“Slowly then,” he said.

He’d already prepared Harry, a move that might have been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt so bloody good, so then he simply lifted Harry’s hips up and slowly, painfully slowly, pushed inside of him.

“Ooh.”

Both of them moaned at the feeling as Fred moved what seemed to be a centimeter at a time; slowly filling Harry.

“Bloody hell,” Fred groaned, his body still as he waited for Harry to adjust to the much wanted intrusion. “This is good?”

“So good,” Harry said, clenching a fistful of the sheets. “Fuck. So, so good.”

Fred let out a breathless laugh and gazed at Harry with eyes filled with wonder.

“I love you,” he told him for the twentieth time that night. “Stop me if I do something wrong.”

Harry nodded absently, marveling at the sensations that were so entirely different than he’d expected or remembered. He thought he might feel exposed, uncertain about baring himself so completely to Fred, but how could he doubt the way Fred saw him when it shined through his every word and action?

Harry felt his breath leave in a dramatic huff as Fred began pulling out and thrusting back in; a slow and steady rhythm.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Faster?”

“Yesss, fuck, Fred.”

Something of an order, really.

Fred threw his head back and the two of them lost themselves in the moment, Fred building up speed as Harry focused on the feeling.

“Fuck Harry, you feel amazing.”

‘You feel amazing.’

Harry clenched his eyes shut, the building desire in him suddenly twisting uncomfortably.

‘You feel amazing.’

Harry had an unexpected jolt of fear shoot through him, his body freezing as it rocked through his entire body.

His previously limp limbs tensed up tightly, every nerve in his body screaming as they did.

Could he move?

He couldn’t.

Harry couldn’t move and he couldn’t breathe.

There was a ringing in his ears, not loud enough to drown out the moan of pleasure that he could hear, but loud enough that Harry had no real sense of any other noises around him.

Which was bad.

Harry needed to be able to hear because if he couldn’t then the bloke could try and add more people which would mean more hands on him, more people in him, more people owning him and less of him owning himself.

Harry couldn’t breathe.

Oh, God. He was going to suffocate to death with a man inside of him. Touching him. Breathing on him.

Or the man was going to kill him.

“Stop. Please.”

It was a whisper, one Harry knew would go unnoticed. Nobody cared when Harry said stop. No one. Stop was a word that nobodies like himself could shout from the rooftops and not a soul in the world would hear it.

So why did he stop?

Why did he pull himself out as soon as Harry whispered his plea and scramble away from Harry, his skin no longer burning Harry’s where it touched him?

Why couldn’t Harry breathe?!

“Harry?”

Harry kept his eyes screwed up as his breath came out harsh and ragged.

Why did he stop?

“Harry, open your eyes. Please? I’m sorry. It’s me, it’s Fred. I stopped. Merlin, I’m sorry. Are you hurt??”

Fred?

Harry tested his limbs, then carefully curled up on his side, keeping his eyes screwed shut, as his brain spun around uselessly and tried to figure out what was happening.

It’s soft, isn’t it?

Which was odd. Because motels weren’t soft, they 

Do they usually smell like this?

Like citrus and caramel and a sort of clean scent where Harry buried his nose in the sheets.

And it’s quiet.

Except it wasn’t, not really. There was someone talking to him, an incomprehensible string of words all coming out in a soft tone that seemed meant to soothe rather than scare. Which... didn’t make much sense. But there was a distinct lack of noise in the background with the buzzing gone from Harry’s ears. There were no car horns, no people screaming on the sidewalks. It was a very peaceful silence broken only by the quiet voice.

It was the soft tone that made Harry finally open his eyes, no real concept of how much time had passed and struggling to make sense of what was going on.

“Harry?”

Harry flicked his eyes around the room (bedroom, this was his bedroom in his home) quickly and carefully before landing on the source of the voice.

Two wide blue eyes, creased with worry but steady in their gaze, met his.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Fred.”

Fred.

Harry gulped in air like a man breaking out of the waves would: desperately and without true relief in the action.

“Fred?” he croaked, his voice raspy as if he really had been drowning. Maybe he had.

“Yeah, it’s Fred.”

Fred raised one hand, then lowered it immediately when Harry cringed away from it.

Which was a stupid thing to do.

Because it was Fred.

And Harry was nearly an adult, and he had been free for years. Nobody could own him, nobody could hurt him, not really. Harry didn’t have to barter for food or trade anything for a bed anymore.

Harry remembered why he had gotten undressed, what led him to opening himself up. He had wanted to do it for no reason other than simple desire. He wanted to be with Fred in that way.

Stupid of him.

Stupid of Fred too.

Fred, who was watching him as Harry’s eyes flickered and his mind caught up with everything.

“Don’t cry,” Fred murmured, his eyes softening and his brows furrowing down with worry.

Was Harry crying?

Harry felt his face and was startled to feel the proof of his panic streaming freely down his cheeks.

“Get out,” he abruptly whispered.

Harry didn’t know when his mind caught all the way up to his body, but he could feel a tremble working it’s way from his core to his limbs and a heavy pressure building behind his eyes. Harry knew he had maybe a minute before he was a shaking, snotty, pathetic mess and it wasn’t about to happen with Fred staring at him.

Fred had seen enough.

Harry hadn’t just ruined what was supposed to be a special night together - he’d freaked out. He had lost his mind completely and Fred had seen it.

“I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re upset,” Fred protested quietly. “Let me get Snape or someone first, then I’ll go if you want me to.”

Fred had to leave. Quickly.

“I’M FINE! JUST GET OUT!” Harry screamed desperately, his throat tearing with the effort.

“Don’t yell at me,” Fred said evenly, his voice semi-calm as he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and yanked his trousers on. “You aren’t fine, I don’t have to be here but you shouldn’t be alone.”

Harry pulled the heavy grey comforter over himself, feeling more secure with the soft touch of the blanket covering his body and he turned his face in to his pillow.

“Just go,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow but still legible.

Harry listened keenly as he pressed his face in to his pillow. He could hear Fred’s soft breathing before he let out a huff of a sigh.

“I love you,” Fred said softly from beside the bed. “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’m sorry.”

Harry didn’t know why Fred was apologizing to him, Harry was the one who ruined everything, but he counted Fred’s footsteps as he left the room and sat up when he heard the door close.

“Complete silence,” Harry ordered his magic hoarsely, pulling his knees to his chest.

Once he knew his magic heard him, and his bedroom wouldn’t let out a single sound to the rest of the house, Harry inhaled deeply...

...and screamed until his throat truly did tear and he felt the trembling in his body turn in to bone deep weary exhaustion.

When Theo returned home less than an hour later, after having Fred beat down Ron’s bedroom door to wake him up telling him Harry needed him, he saw Harry wearing multiple layers of warm pajamas and sleeping fitfully in his bed.

Which, Theo was sure, meant that Harry’s romantic plans for the evening totally went exactly how he wanted.

“Idiot,” Theo sighed, dropping himself in his brother’s bed and ignoring him when Harry tried to physically kick him out of it.

***

Harry avoided Fred for the next few days. Not necessarily avoided, but...

Well, yes, avoided.

Harry spent a lot of time during the day at Invisibility Way, flying over the backyard field there. He didn’t train as much as he was just replayed the events of their night together and thinking.

Harry also spent a lot of time at night thinking; not sleeping much as it kept bringing him the intrusive thoughts he’d once buried deeply inside himself. When he did sleep, he did so fitfully, tossing and turning, unknowingly crying out as he sweat his way through another nightmare.

And when he woke up, gasping for breath, he clenched his red handled penknife and just stared out the dark window and thought about it all some more.

Harry wanted to be with Fred intimately, the way everyone else did, and he had freaked out. He completely fell apart and couldn’t even do that one normal thing; a thing that everyone else seemed to do with no problems.

Theo and Hermione had sex, Harry knew that. Theo didn’t talk about it really, but he’d borrowed Sevvie when he ordered birth control potions (‘I am not asking Professor Snape for them,’ he’d said stubbornly) and Harry wasn’t an idiot.

Susan had sex. She had told Harry the morning after she’d lost her virginity. She had said it was a bit awkward at first, but enjoyable by the time they were done.

Harry also suspected that all of Hogwarts knew that Blaise had sex. Theo might have kept pretty quiet about his private life, but Blaise bragged in the dorm room about the witches and wizards he’d been with.

And none of them ever mentioned having some sort of panic attack, because Harry recognized it for what it was, which meant it was a Harry only thing.

A freaky thing that just highlighted how different he was from everyone else, how completely shattered in one of the most fundamental ways.

Any idiot could have sex, loads of them did. Not Harry though.

Harry soared over the trees, watching the way the green leaves diminished to specks as he rose up in the sky, and considered that.

So he was broken. That wasn’t a new thought for Harry. He had a broken mind which required a potion that caused a broken body that matched his broken scars.

It also made him a fucking freak. And it didn’t matter if Snape told him to ‘never refer to himself that way again’ because it was true. Harry couldn’t even do one basic thing with his boyfriend without turning in to a shaking, screaming, sobbing freak. It was pathetic.

And...

And…

As much as Harry hated where his thoughts ended each time, it didn’t make him wrong.

Fred didn’t deserve what Harry could offer.

So Harry flew for three days, telling the others at his house that he just needed some time alone, and he avoided Fred while he thought about the future.

It went on until finally, the fourth morning after what was meant to be a special night for the two of them, Harry had made a decision as he got dressed.

“I’m going to Fred’s,” he told Snape after breakfast that morning.

“Thank Merlin,” Snape sighed. “I was beginning to fear that you and Frederick would continue to play hide and seek all summer. Be safe, brat.”

Harry nodded in distracted acknowledgment as he stepped in the floo. He knew Fred kept popping by to talk to him, but he hadn’t been ready before so he just told Snape and Barty to tell him he wasn’t in.

But as the green flames spit him out in Sirius’ old bedroom, one of the many private floos in Grimmauld Place, Harry squared his shoulders for what he needed to do; because he thought about it, and he was ready to talk now.

“Hey,” Harry attempted to pull his lips back in a polite smile when he found Fred. The best he could do seemed to be a mild grimace so Harry dropped it altogether. “Can we talk?”

Fred, who had been bent over a work table in his bedroom, colorful bits of future joke shop products surrounding him, wiped his potion covered hands off on a towel and nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” he said with an actual smile. “Come in, darlin. George is at Angie’s, we can talk in here.”

Harry stepped inside the room that Fred shared with George and looked around in mild curiosity while Fred cleared away the products he worked on. The room was a mess, but Harry knew it was an organized type of chaos, with books and parchment everywhere and brightly packaged products filling every corner of the room.

“D’you wanna sit?” Fred asked, plopping on the side of his bed and patting the space beside him.

“No.” Harry stayed in the open doorway, putting a privacy shield up so they weren’t interrupted by any of the Weasleys staying in the house. “We need to talk...”

“We do,” Fred agreed, his eyes tight with worry. “About the other night, Harry—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Harry said quickly. He needed to say what he went there to say so he could leave. The resolve that Harry built up the last few days wavered when he stood here in front of Fred and he would do the right thing. Harry didn’t usually do the right thing, according to Snape, Theo, Hermione, Neville, and a lot of other people actually, but he would then.

Fred deserved that.

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Harry felt guilt squeeze his insides as Fred’s eyes, blue like Harry imagined the ocean might be in the twilight, filled with a look of sadness.

“What? No.” Fred sounded momentarily lost, as if Harry had just ripped the floor beneath him and he found himself falling. “Harry, I’m so sorry, please—”

“It wasn’t you,” Harry cut him off, not wanting Fred to feel guilty for anything. Fred wasn’t at fault, Harry was. “And that’s not why anyway,” he lied. “It’s this war, yeah? It’s not safe for us to be together. And you’re leaving Hogwarts this year, you’ll be busy with the shop and I’ll be busy with school. It’s just… this is just how it has to be,” he said flatly but firmly. “I’m sorry.”

“But...” Fred’s eyes were beginning to water, and Harry knew he needed to leave before he selfishly gave in. “But I love you,” Fred said softly. “I don’t care about being in danger, I’m ready for it. And we still have all year this year, and next year we’ll see each other every Hogsmeade week—”

“I don’t want to be together anymore,” Harry interrupted flatly, covering his own hurt with a blank mask. A mask he could hide almost anything behind. “Someone will either try and take you from me, just because you’re mine, or you’ll leave anyway. So... so this is it.”

Harry took a step backwards, focusing on Fred’s hands instead of his face, and paused in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But it’s better like this. You can...” Harry cleared his throat before his voice could break. “You can be with someone else; you deserve it.”

Harry stepped through his own privacy bubble, dispelling it with his motion, as he turned to run back to Sirius’ old bedroom.

He left so quickly that when the first tear streaked down Fred’s gobsmacked cheek he missed it.

And when Fred whispered that he didn’t want to be with anyone else, he missed that as well.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up from the dying fire that he had been staring at and saw Snape giving him an inscrutable look from the sitting room doorway.

“What happened?” Snape asked. Harry briefly wondered what his face must look like before he cleared it of any emotion at all.

“Nothing,” Harry told him flatly. “‘M fine.”

If Harry didn’t think about it, he was fine.

Snape moved until he was in front of Harry, looking down at him with a steady gaze.

“You are not fine,” Snape said, once again proving how well he could read Harry’s mood. “Did your visit with Frederick go poorly?”

“No.” It didn’t, it went how Harry had planned for it to go. That didn’t mean Harry was happy about it though. “We- no - I broke up with him.”

Snape quietly sat beside Harry and Harry shifted away slightly, not wanting to be crowded or touched.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Snape offered.

“Nothing to discuss,” Harry shrugged. “There’s a war coming. It’s better this way.”

Harry could practically feel the waves of unease rolling off Snape’s body beside him. He figured Snape felt pretty out of his depth talking about something as stupid as a breakup, and it would have been nearly amusing if Harry had been in a mood to be amused. Instead, the two of them sat together quietly.

“It is admirable to try and protect him, but I believe Frederick is as capable as any of your friends in defending himself in any conflict.”

Harry made a small hum at Snape’s quietly spoken words. He wasn’t wrong, Fred could handle himself okay in a fight, especially if he was partnered with Harry or George, but that wasn’t the problem.

And Harry sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about the problem with Snape.

He knew what Snape would say already:

‘You are not a freak. You are not broken. Perhaps you should discuss this with Lupin.’

Well, maybe he wouldn’t precisely say the bit about Lupin, but he would want Harry to talk to someone. And it wasn’t something Harry wanted to talk about with anyone.

They wouldn’t get it.

Fred deserved someone whole, healthy, normal.

And that wasn’t Harry.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” Harry said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Harry, wait.” Harry paused and looked back at Snape. Snape’s face was calm, if only giving away a mild hint of concern.

“I will not interfere in your relationships nor in the decisions you are perfectly within your rights to make on your own,” he said. “However, I am always available at any time to talk if you would like to do so.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Harry shrugged. “But I’m fine.”

And he was. Mostly. There was no use crying about it anymore.

What was done was done and Harry wasn’t going to mope about, whining, when he knew he made the right decision.

So Harry didn’t mope, not really.

Harry threw himself in his books- reading as much as he could. Using the Theory of Magic to block out the Theory of What the Fuck was Wrong With Him.

He painted his and Theo’s room. A clean white color that made it feel less oppressively dark at night. Then black when the white made him feel dirty. Blue when Theo hated the black.

Harry tried to explain human concepts to Stevie, and attempted to get Sevvie to stop being so terrified of the giant snake.

He also unknowingly made his housemates discuss his behavior and plot ways to cheer him up from his first breakup.

“I will be brewing a batch of Felix Felicis for my seventh year students,” Snape said during breakfast. “Perhaps you would like to assist me?”

Harry held in a scowl, knowing Snape preferred to brew alone and was likely only offering because he thought Harry needed company.

“No, thanks.”

“Hey, Harry, do you want to come see some of the stuff from Grimmauld Place?” Barty asked, hesitating in Harry’s bedroom doorway. “There’s a lot of Slytherin history and dark curses hidden in the stuff Black brought over.”

Harry felt a pang as he recalled Fred helping Sirius relocate all the items Barty wanted from the Black home.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you drowning?” Theo asked quietly late at night when Harry assumed his faux-sibling had long since fallen asleep.

“No,” Harry whispered back to him, knowing his voice would carry through the dividing wall clearly without a silencing charm put up.

“It’s okay if you are,” Theo responded. “I’d be pretty depressed if me and Mione broke up.”

“I’m not depressed.”

Which was true. Harry felt guilt and regret when he thought about losing Fred, but it wasn’t the powerful waves of depression that he had experienced before.

“We could go to Italy tomorrow,” Theo said. “Just us and Draco and Blaise- maybe go swimming or something?”

Harry briefly considered it; he liked Italy. And he did miss his friends. But he wasn’t really in the mood to be pestered or cheered up, which he was sure was Theo’s real goal in the offer.

“No, thanks.”

“God damnit.” Theo swore loudly as he dejectedly slumped on the sofa in the sitting room with Snape and Barty a few days after Harry’s breakup. “We aren’t helping any.”

“What do we do?” Barty asked hesitantly, unsure if it was some sort of regular occurrence in the Snape/Potter/Nott household. Snape and Theo exchanged a loaded look and seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time.

Theo with a sigh of relief and Snape with a huff of exasperation at the necessity.

“We get Susan,” Theo said. “We make Susan handle this.”

***

“You idiot.”

Harry, who was curled up on his bed and trying to explain what a breakup was to Stevie, looked up in surprise as Susan came in his room and made her way to his bed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice sounding more dull than truly curious.

“Theo said you broke up with Fred,” Susan told him, climbing over Stevie and moving Harry’s head to her lap. “What happened?” she asked, stroking Harry’s hair as Harry pet Stevie’s head with his index finger.

“You already know,” Harry said, “I broke up with him.”

“Why?”

Harry sighed, not really wanting to rehash it all, but knowing if he had to that Susan would be the best one to do it with.

“Lots of reasons.”

“Top three?” Susan asked. Harry imagined she was rolling her eyes at his vague answers, but if he was going to be talking about his relationship and his ‘feelings’ then he wasn’t going to look up at her while he did it.

“One, he’s going to leave me anyway. Or two, someone’s going to take him from me. And three, I’m - I dunno, Sue, just kind of a freak,” Harry admitted quietly, focusing his gaze on Stevie’s cool brown scales while Susan calmed Harry by merely running her fingers through his hair.

“Why would he leave you? Who would dare try and take him from you? And you are not a fucking freak, Harry,” she said stoutly. “I’ll kill anyone who calls you that.”

Harry scoffed lightly, “There’s a whole list of people who think it if you want it,” he offered.

“I do,” Susan told him, her tone hard. “But I’ll get it later. That’s the main reason you did it, isn’t it? Why do you think that you’re a freak? Because Fred doesn’t think so, I know he doesn’t.”

“You don’t get it.”

Harry’s friends all thought Harry was so great, powerful and important, but they didn’t really know the real him. The Harry on the inside that he hid from them, from himself.

Harry let out a deep breath before he exposed himself for the person he truly was to the first friend he ever had. “I- I freaked out, okay? I had this whole fuckin’ thing happen and Fred saw it and now he knows. He knows what I am.”

“Start at the beginning,” Susan said calmly. “What exactly happened?”

When Harry explained things to Fred, it helped. When he did it with Susan, it helped. That didn’t make it easier, but the thought of moving the weight off his chest was tempting.

“We had sex,” Harry admitted in a quick whisper. “And we’ve never done that before, you know? So it was was supposed to be special or whatever, but right in the middle I just freaked out. And it was so stupid, Sue. I’m a fucking freak. I’m broken. And...” Harry’s voice dropped as he admitted the true reason that he ended it with Fred, “And he deserves someone whole, someone normal, yeah?”

“Oh, Harry.” Susan’s empty hand reached over Harry’s shoulder and grabbed his free hand to squeeze it once. “Fred deserves whoever he wants. And you are not a freak, and you’re not broken. I freaked out a bit the first time I had sex, it’s a normal reaction to taking such a big step in your relationship. It’s totally normal, Harry.”

It wasn’t normal.

Susan just didn’t get it.

But that was because she didn’t know. Didn’t understand all of it. 

“It wasn’t normal and... and it wasn’t my first time.”

Susan’s hand that was stroking Harry’s hair paused for a split second after he admitted one of his most shameful secrets to her.

“How old were you your first time?” she asked, her voice steady and calm.

“Eight,” Harry said, eyes closed and refusing to let that memory enter his mind for even a second.

“I love you.” Susan’s voice sounded a bit strangled as she said that. She cleared her throat then repeated herself, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in the entire world.”

Out of everything Harry expected to hear Susan say, that wasn’t it.

Harry twisted his head and looked up at Susan’s face. He searched for pity, or mockery, or anything else that would have shut him up, maybe wiped her memory, but all he saw was a sense of honesty and a fierce look of affection in her eyes.

“It was different with Fred,” Harry said, turning his head back in her lap to stare at the pattern on Stevie’s scales as his mind focused on when it all went wrong. “It wasn’t like before, but then it was. I liked it, wanted it, but then I couldn’t breathe, Sue. It was like I was a stupid little kid all over again and I couldn’t move and I was just... I was just frozen.”

Harry tried, he really did because he was too old for whining about, but a small sob ripped it’s way free of his chest and broke the damn he built up since he’d spoken with Fred.

Despite how he’d told himself that none of it mattered, the past was the past and he would never live like that again, never let himself be owned like that again, it all just rushed back at him. In that moment with Fred he wasn’t fifteen year old Harry; the figurehead of an important gang, powerful wizard, aspiring political leader. Instead he had suddenly been kid Harry; starving, weak, willing to trade the freedom of his body for food and warmth, convinced that the touch of strangers inside him was worth it if it meant he would live another day.

Harry would never admit something so pathetically weak out loud, but it had been terrifying when he switched from who he was to who he used to be when he had been with Fred that night. It meant he could switch any moment, any time.

What had been almost equally terrifying was the shift in who Fred had been in the moment. When Harry changed, so did Fred. Fred went from his boyfriend of over a year, someone who loved him, respected him, and turned him on to a stranger with a leering smile and rough hands and an indifference to Harry’s pain.

No matter how much Harry had told himself that neither of them actually changed who they were when Fred was inside him, it hadn’t mattered. That was how it felt, how it truly seemed in that moment, and Harry had panicked. Panicked and freaked out and exposed one of the most utterly, and irreparably, damaged parts of himself to Fred. Harry couldn’t take it back, he couldn’t fix it, and he cared about Fred too much to let him be with someone so entirely broken.

Harry turned in to Susan’s lap to hide his face while he cried, his anger at himself and sadness over losing Fred causing him to forget himself for a while. Susan continued petting his head, knowing there was nothing to say in the moment and simply being a calming presence for him.

“I don’t want to be like this,” Harry finally said, breathing in Susan’s sweet coconut scented lotion as he calmed himself. “I want one thing about me to be normal, Sue. One fucking thing. It’s not so much to ask for, is it?”

“Of course not,” Susan murmured. “But you’re the only one who thinks you’re a freak, Harry. I don’t. I’m sure Fred doesn’t, and pushing him away isn’t fair. He deserves better than that.”

“Of course he does,” Harry agreed, turning his face back to Stevie and seeing the lazy snake fell asleep while Harry had his head buried. “But that’s why I ended it, because he deserves better.”

“You’re an idiot,” Susan sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Harry shrugged and released Susan’s hand to flex his fingers out - she had been squeezing them tightly up until then and he could feel them aching slightly.

The two of them laid in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Harry thought of Fred while Susan apparently thought about what Harry had shared with her.

“I’m going to kill whoever it was,” she eventually said, clueing Harry in to the direction her thoughts had carried her to.

“Too late,” Harry said with a forced casualness to his voice, knowing who and what she was referring to. “I killed one of them when I was ten and I dunno who the others were.”

Susan’s leg muscles twitched underneath Harry’s head. “One of them?” she hissed. “There was more than once?”

“There’s only so many ways that a kid can survive on his own for three years,” Harry said as nonchalantly as he was able to. He knew that Susan would be his friend no matter what, she wouldn’t care that Harry admitted to being on the streets before, but that didn’t make his worry that she would find him disgusting lessen any.

“Three years plus the two weeks in our second year?” Susan guessed wryly, and accurately.

“Oh yeah.” Harry had made a valiant attempt at blocking out those long, miserable, cold, two weeks in his second year when he was expelled and thought his friends had all abandoned him. “Those too,” he said.

Susan took a deep breath, Harry could feel her chest expanding and shrinking behind his head as she did so, before she spoke again. “I am going to kill your muggle relatives, and Albus Dumbledore, with my bare hands,” she swore. “And also, in case you didn’t know it already, I love you, Harry Potter.”

Harry released a shaky breath, relieved that it didn’t seem as if Susan was going to end their friendship over the secrets he shared with her. He felt the empty feeling of regret shrink inside him for a moment as his chest was filled with an overwhelmingly warm sense of affection for Susan Bones.

His first friend. His best friend.

One of the few people that Harry knew he could tell absolutely anything to and she would still always be there for him- ready to wreck vengeance on his behalf or simply hold him together when he didn’t think he was holding himself together very well.

“I love you too,” he said as he nestled further in her lap.

Of that - Harry was sure.

Chapter Text

Severus felt a sense of calm descend over their household as the summer wore on.

As much calm as could be expected from the four of them anyway.

Despite Potter’s initially concerning behavior, he seemed to be handling his breakup rather well ever since his discussion with Miss Bones.

Another thing Severus owed the young witch for he supposed.

Severus had not understood why Potter ended his relationship, as only a week before doing so he had stated he was happy with Frederick and becoming more physically intimate with him, but Potter had been unwilling to discuss it and Severus respected his privacy. Severus would not interfere in a situation that Potter was mature enough to handle himself. He would simply wait for Potter to disclose it with him, as he typically does once enough time has passed for him to organize his thoughts, and he would discuss it with him and share his opinion on the matter.

Sometimes parenting could be relatively simple; although typically, when it came to Potter, it was not.

Their household settled in to an easy enough routine; Severus brewed, Theodore studied, and Potter and Barty seemed determined to fill the house with as much lively energy as possible. Potter with his flying, a physical outlet that seemed rational as opposed to mania driven, and his constant plotting, some schemes that he discussed with Severus but likely many more that Severus would not discover until after the fact. And Barty was chipper as he was finally free, filling the quiet moments with his incessant chatter, a possible side effect of being forced in to complete silence for years at the hands of his fathers curse.

Severus was brewing Theodore’s potion one afternoon, hiding away as he completed the task, when Theodore himself entered his office after knocking.

“Excuse me, sir? May I read in here?”

“You may,” Severus told him. Theodore would hardly be a distraction to his process. Aside from his penchant for having Miss Granger as an overnight guest, he was a model housemate. Theodore was perhaps the only one in the house who hardly caused Severus any worry, unlike Potter and Barty who were unpredictable and creative in the many different ways he imagined them to be wrecking havoc.

“And as I have told you before, you also may call me Severus in our home,” Severus reminded Theodore.

“Uh, okay, thanks.” Theodore quickly closed the office door and settled gracefully in one of the oversized chairs by the bookshelf.

“Has Harry done something disruptive that has driven you to hiding?” Severus asked curiously as he continued dicing the onion roots the potion required.

“It’s Barty actually,” Theodore said. “He’s expanding your basement sir.” Severus was bemused as to how simple magic would be disturbing Theodore until the boy continued. “He’s doing it with a sludge-hammer.”

What?

Severus quickly dropped the silencing spell around his office for a moment and was immediately assaulted with a series of muffled banging noises coming from the downstairs.

“He says he likes the noise,” Theodore explained with a scornful twist to his lips. “I told Harry, but he says he likes the noise too.”

“Of course they do,” Severus scowled briefly before deciding that it was Harry’s house and he could take responsibility for his housemate destroying it. “Regardless, you are quite welcome to read within here whenever you feel the need,” he assured Theodore.

“Thank you,” Theodore said politely as he settled down in to the chair and opened his book. Severus glanced over and smirked at the title, ’Chemical Compounds in Astrophysics’, a decidedly advanced muggle textbook.

Severus continued to work on his brew while Theodore read his book. The two of them made for peaceful cohabitants as they were immersed in their own quiet activities.

Eventually though Theodore stretched his arms out and watched Severus curiously.

“What are you working on?” he asked. Severus noted his hesitant tone, obviously worried that he was disturbing Severus.

As if the man did not brew much more complex potions with many more distractions for a career.

“It is your potion,” Severus said calmly, determined to show Theodore that not all caretakers are brutes to be tiptoed around. “I am preparing the ingredients today so that I may begin the brew tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Severus saw from the peripherals of his vision as Theodore tapped his index finger on his leg for a few moments, a nervous gesture born from a childhood filled with uncertainties.

“May I help you?”

Severus nearly said no, it was on the tip of his tongue to politely refuse his offer, but he hesitated. And he did so for multiple reasons.

The first being that Theodore, like Potter, truly had no family left. He had no adult in his life to confide in or lean on for guidance. And just as Severus was that adult for Potter, he should attempt to be it for Theodore as well. Also, as Severus had no idea where to begin finding common ground with the boy, sharing time in the lab would be an excellent first step.

The other reason was much more straightforward: the Dark Lord wanted Severus dead. And while Severus’ child was in the middle of a war, it was not a reach for Severus to consider his own mortality. If he perished tomorrow, the recipes for Theodore and Potter’s potions would be available, but there would be none that were experienced in brewing it. That was saying nothing to the heavily altered version of the Wolfsbane Potion that Severus prepares monthly for Lupin, sending it along with Black’s portion of Potter’s potion.

“Actually, yes,” Severus said with what he hoped was an encouraging nod to Theodore. “In fact, how would you like to learn to brew a few different potions of my own creation?”

Theodore was no true prodigy when it came to potions, Lovegood would be Severus’ first choice in the matter, but he was an intelligent child who was available to learn Severus’ specific recipes and would be able to brew them adequately with enough training.

“Really?” Theodore maintained a polite mask, but no mask could cover the eager light that entered his eyes. “I would like that very much. Thank you sir!”

Severus smiled at Theodore and made space for him at his prep table.

“Scourgify your hands and we will get to work.”

Severus spent the next few days carefully training Theodore. Theodore was no prodigy, but he was a curious boy with an eager thirst to learn and improve. There were many aspects to a person that determined their ability to thrive as a potioneer and Theodore carried many of them, and the ones he did not were not a current hindrance. Severus did not have to waste time teaching him the mathematical formulas required to calculate dosages, nor the way that ingredient sizes must be converted to different units of measurement as Theodore thankfully already had a strong grasp on those skills. Theodore also had an excellent memory, a sharpness in his gaze that caught mistakes, and a calm demeanor that amplified his abilities when brewing.

And though Theodore had no true creativity nor imagination for the invention and improvement of potions, it was scarcely a handicap as he merely needed to follow Severus’ precise, and complex, recipes and calculate the serving sizes as he and Potter grew.

Severus had never taken an apprentice before, he had never even considered taking one on (aside from Miss Lovegood whom he was determined to push towards a Mastery in Potions) and yet he found himself to enjoy teaching Theodore. Simply put, he found himself enjoying spending time with Theodore in general.

The two of them slipped in to a companionable routine as Severus taught him. A routine that had gone unnoticed by their housemates until nearly a week had passed by.

“Hey Sev, have you seen- oh.” Potter entered Severus’ office but paused in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes at Theodore, who was stirring the asphodel in to the Wolfsbane Potion before turning an accusing look towards Severus. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Theodore is assisting me as I prepare Lupin’s potion,” Severus said. “What were you going to ask me?”

Potter scrunched his brows down, something about Severus’ response bothering him.

“Never mind,” he finally muttered with a dark look aimed at Theodore’s back. “Enjoy your assistance.”

Potter slammed the door rather harshly behind him and Theodore sent Severus a bewildered look.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

Severus, who typically felt as if he had a rather strong grasp on ‘Potter-ism’s,’ felt just as mystified as Theodore.

“I have no idea, but I am certain we will make sense of it eventually.”

Because as much as Potter was a secretive, sly, and reticent teenager- he also had a much appreciated tendency to eventually divulge his problems with Severus.

Though, as the days wore on and Severus and Theodore continued to brew together, it was obvious what Potter’s problem had been that day without him sharing it.

The fool child was jealous.

This became apparent as Potter began warily watching when Theodore transcribed recipes, notes, and formulas in the sitting room or they discussed potions over dinner.

“Swot,” Potter murmured with a dark glare sent at his friend.

Theodore, for his part, accepted Potter’s jealousy and rudeness with more grace than Severus would have at his age.

“Do you want to help Snape today?” Theodore asked him quietly one morning while Severus was (eavesdropping) in the hallway. “I don’t have to help him.”

“No.” Severus could practically envision Potter rolling his eyes petulantly. “Snape doesn’t like for me to be in his lab. He says I’ve got a reckless energy.”

Which was quite true.

Potter was intelligent and creative, an excellent brewer, but he did not carry the calm temperament that would elevate his skills to a higher level.

“He doesn’t talk to me much, not like he does you,” Theodore assured Potter. Severus considered that briefly and realized it was also an honest statement, one given in an attempt to ease Potter’s envy. Severus was much more verbally open around Potter, a habit long formed since they had first met and Potter would never share any detail of himself without Severus first sharing one. So Severus may not speak much with Theodore, but the boy spoke moderately more freely in his lab than he had before he began assisting Severus.

Severus listened as Theodore talked about his classes, chuckled at his outrage over the minimal electives that Hogwarts offered and agreed when he expressed a desire to see muggle sciences become incorporated in wixen education. Theodore also talked about his plans for after Hogwarts. Apparently he and Miss Granger were entertaining the idea of obtaining muggle masteries in different fields (Theodore in Aerospace Engineering and Granger in Pre-Law) before trying for their magical masteries (Theodore in Arithmancy and Granger in Ancient Runes). Once they reached those goals though, Theodore was unsure what he would do.

“I think exploring space would be interesting,” he had said. “But I don’t know if I’d want to work with muggles all the time.”

Severus had understood his view on the matter. It was difficult to surround yourself daily with peers while hiding such a central part of yourself.

All in all, Theodore’s quiet and carefully spoken thoughts were not unbearable in the lab and as he quickly picked up on the recipes and began his attempts at his own trial run of each potion. Severus found him to be acceptable company and an adequate replacement if he were ever unable to prepare the potions for those who required them. Severus was also pleased that this apprenticeship had allowed Theodore to relax more in his company. While he had never been as physically nervous, twitchy, as Potter used to be, he was simply meek around Severus in their home before now. Now Severus was seeing more of his personality and found him to be an intelligent young man with a rather endearing vulnerability that he masks behind dry wit and cynicism.

“I don’t care what you guys talk about,” Potter lied badly, bringing Severus’ focus back on the conversation he was eavesdropping over. “I’ve got a lot more important things to do than sit around and be someone’s fuckin’ assistant.”

Severus scoffed and continued down the hallway. Potter spent one third of his time training on his broomstick, swearing he would begin trying out professionally this year. He spent another third playing politics with Minister Fudge, meeting various political parties and discussing changes that Potter was pushing for within the ministry. And the rest of his time Severus was positive that Potter simply spent creating mischief with whichever one of his misfits he could find for various activities.

‘A lot more important things to do,’ indeed.

***

“I’m leaving,” Potter called to Severus, who was seated in the sitting room one morning enjoying tearing apart a new Potions text with corrections and updates that the idiot publisher had missed.

“Be safe brat,” he murmured, his sharp eyes gleeful as he spotted yet another obvious mistake.

Truly Severus wondered at the incompetency of some self proclaimed professionals. Though, as he had once been coworkers with Gilderoy Lockhart, perhaps it should not be so surprising.

“Don’t you want to know where I’m going?”

Severus looked over at Potter and smirked at him. Potter was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a grey long sleeved shirt with a teal A on the front. It was hardly an exercise in deduction as to his plans for the day.

“I would venture to say that either I need Narcissa to speak with you about proper attire, again, or you are attending a sporting event,” Severus said sardonically.

“I’m going to watch the Arrows and Harpies game.” Potter smiled blandly at Severus before tacking on, “With Sirius.”

Severus snorted internally at Potter’s obvious ploy here. He could not be more transparent if he screamed it:

Severus is spending time with Theodore, causing Potter to be jealous, so he will spend time with Black in an effort to provoke the same reaction in Severus.

Which, as terribly amusing as it was, would hardly work. Potter was a child, Severus an adult. An adult who had no reason to envy Black for going on an outing with Potter.

“I presume you will be supporting the Arrows?” Severus asked, attempting to show an interest in Potter’s most beloved hobby and future career aspiration.

Potter sent a pointed look at his shirt before raising a brow at Severus in an irritating gesture to indicate ‘what do you think?’ that he learned from Severus himself.

“Then I hope that your team wins and you enjoy the time with your godfather.”

Potter glowered at him for a short instance before he cleared his expression to one of disdainful boredom.

“Well, see you then,” he said flatly.

Severus sighed after Potter left.

Petty.

Potter was quite petty in his attempts to make Severus jealous.

Severus returned to his book with much less enthusiasm than he previously had as his disobedient mind kept imagining Potter and Black bonding at a quidditch match.

It was hardly Severus’ fault that the only quidditch games he could bear watching were ones that Potter himself participated in. Quidditch matches that he was watching of Potter’s long before Black had came in to the picture. Black who Severus was treating medicinally to ensure he even had the presence of mind to have outings with Potter.

He scoffed lightly at the thought that Potter could even imagine Severus would be jealous of Sirius fucking Black.

He absolutely was not.

Though at lunch that afternoon he mentioned to Barty that perhaps he could offer to fly with Potter, as he knew Barty enjoyed flying quite a bit.

And if it carried the pleasant result that perhaps Potter would not become too enamored with Black then all the better.

“I don’t understand why you reduce the flame beneath the cauldron before you add the belladonna seeds but not before you add the Jobberknoll saliva?”

“Here, let me show you.”

Severus grabbed the parchment from Theodore and began carefully scrawling out the differing equations he had calculated when he developed the Lithium Potion.

“See-“

“Dislocated shoulder, I embarrassed him in front of his coworkers when I was 9.”

Severus and Theodore looked up from the table they covered in parchments at Barty’s entrance in the kitchen, followed by a grinning Potter.

“First time? Pft,” Potter scoffed, showing no attention to the curious duo at the table. “I was four the first time I had mine dislocated and I don’t remember what it was for.”

“Alright, well have you ever been locked in your bedroom for three days straight?” Barty asked Potter, plucking an orange from the counter and digging his nails in to the peel. “I only got to leave to use the bathroom, a house elf popped in with my meals.”

“You got a bedroom? And bathroom breaks? And meals?” Potter laughed mockingly with his head buried in the pantry. “Try a cupboard for over a week at a time; no food and a bucket to piss in.”

“What??” Theodore gaped at Potter as Barty sighed dramatically and Severus frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a game,” Potter said coolly, now digging in the pantry and tossing various packages to Barty. “One I’m winning.”

“It’s 7-3 now,” Barty protested. “I can still make a comeback.”

“Perhaps you could explain this game to me,” Severus suggested with a raised brow. He knew Potter had taken a recent shinning to Barty, one that Severus had encouraged a few days ago. Yet when he suggested it, he had not anticipated how much time the pair was willing to spent together as he considered them to have more differences than similarities.

Potter was a rash ‘act first and think second’ young man who found a thrill in life threatening situations and maneuvered his way through social situations with outward ease. Barty had a much more inquisitive and logical view of the world and preferred books to people, a sentiment Severus reverently shared. Severus had only suggested they fly together because he knew that it was the only thing they had a shared interest in.

Though apparently beyond merely flying, the two of them carried a fondness of all sports that Severus and Theodore did not. Barty enjoyed applying his analytical mind to different physical aspects to analyze the results, and Potter simply enjoyed exercising it seemed. They were also both terribly competitive. It was this competitive edge and enthusiasm for sports that had them outdoors most afternoons, arguing and debating as they flew, threw around various muggle sporting equipment, and on one memorable occasion they had somehow acquired a ‘bench press’ (a muggle machine that Severus had never seen before) and Severus had to repair a tear in Barty’s shoulder socket while Potter smirked smugly.

And now it also seemed almost as if they had created a game out of-

“Who had the worst childhood,” Barty said, answering the question that Potter ignored as he opened a package of biscuits and tossed a few to Potter. “You guys want in?”

“No,” Theodore said immediately. “That sounds barbaric.”

Severus privately agreed with the boy, though he was curious how Barty got Potter to share even snippets of his abusive childhood.

“How did this game begin?” he asked them neutrally.

“Barty said it was cathartic to kill his Dad, because he made his childhood terrible,” Potter said as he slyly stole half of a snack cake from Barty’s hand. “And I said ‘bet mine was worse’, and here we are. I’m winning.”

“You made a game from being abused as a child??” Theodore asked, his voice laced with the same surprise that his bulging brown eyes betrayed.

“I was not ‘abused’,” Potter glowered at him while Barty nodded in agreement beside him. “Loads of people have crummy childhoods, we’re just seeing whose was worse.”

Theodore glanced shiftily at Severus, who shook his head subtly. They could hardly force Barty and Potter to acknowledge that their ‘crummy childhoods’ were actually categorically abusive.

“Gotta go,” Potter said abruptly, his arms loaded with boxes of snacks. “Barty’s teaching me muggle football.”

Severus and Theodore stared as the two of them rushed back out the back door to the yard.

“Do we... do we stop them?” Theodore asked uncertainly.

“No,” Severus decided. “At least they are talking.”

Theodore nodded, but he still looked unsure as the two of them returned to their research.

“Hey, which is worse- being told your parents abandoned you or being told you were a mistake?”

Theodore gawked at Potter at the question, but Severus was begrudgingly becoming accustomed to playing referee in Potter and Barty’s ‘game’.

“Yours,” he said after careful consideration, already being well aware of which statement belonged to which pitiable player. “Being told your parents abandoned you also implies that you were a mistake.”

“Ha!” Potter laughed as he slammed Severus’ office door behind him. “18-12!”

“Professor?”

“Yes Theodore?”

“Are they...” Theodore hesitated to find the proper way to word his question. “Are they mad?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Severus had initially been relieved to have Potter and Barty finding a mutual way to discuss their uniquely horrifying childhoods and possibly become support for each other. However, the longer they carried on their competition, the less amusing Severus found it.

“You only spent one night outside? Barty, mate, try three years, yeah?”

“22-19.”

“My Father held me under the Imperio for ten years Harry. Ten. Years.”

“Yeah alright, fine. 36-28.”

“I tried to not make friends because I thought they’d all see the monster in me that my Father did.”

“I knocked Snape out cold in a playground because I thought he was trying to attack me or kill me when he was trying to deliver my acceptance letters.”

“Sev, which is worse?”

“I refuse to participate in this macabre game any further,” Severus grumbled, both irritated and concerned at this point.

“Theo?”

“Uh...” Theodore tapped on his leg as his eyes flicked between Potter and Barty. “They’re both pretty messed up.”

“We’ll call that one a tie then,” Barty said.

Potter scowled and took a vicious stab at his carrots with a fork.

Severus had truly never realized how competitive his ward was.

“You can’t be serious,” Barty laughed at Potter during lunch after roughly a week of their continuous ‘game’. “I actually joined the Death Eaters to get away from my father!”

“ENOUGH!” Severus slammed his hand on the table and withheld his fissure of guilt from showing as the three other occupants jumped rather more than was normal at his action.

“Enough,” he repeated, much more calmly. “What is the current score?”

“49-30 in Harry’s favor,” Theodore replied quietly.

“Harry wins,” Severus said curtly. “No more.”

Potter, in what may have been the greatest moment of misplaced pride that Severus had ever seen, smiled victoriously.

“Told you I’d win,” he smirked at Barty.

“Fine.” Barty scowled petulantly for a moment before brightening. “Airball tomorrow?”

Potter nodded eagerly while Severus and Theodore shared sighs of relief at the end of the single most disturbing competition to exist.

***

Despite his closer relationship with Barty, ven once Severus and Theodore finished stocking up on potions for the year and went back to their own individual hobbies, Potter was still an insufferable housemate. The child was filled with sarcastic retorts and a roll of his eyes any time Severus and Theodore dared be in the same room together. Severus finally snapped at Potter for his childish behavior one afternoon near the end of summer.

“Cease this foolish behavior at once,” Severus barked after Potter had blatantly ignored Theodore when he had asked him about his plans for the evening. “You will be respectful to the rest of us who cohabitate with you!”

Barty and Theodore sucked in shocked breaths as Potter’s initially startled expression morphed in to a sharp look of contempt.

Damn Potter for mimicking Severus’ facial expressions then using them against him.

“Or what?”

“Excuse me?”

“Or what?” Potter repeated. “That’s how you threaten someone, sir. You say ‘you will be respectful to the rest of us OR then you come up with a good threat.” Potter smiled innocently, an expression almost as discomforting as his glower was. “You know like-“ Potter hissed something indecipherable in Parsletongue, though contextually it was obviously a threat of some type.

Theodore and Barty looked back and forth between Severus and Potter, their eyes flicking as ones would if they cared to watch a muggle tennis match.

“You are behaving like a child and treating your friend poorly,” Severus said cooly. “I expected better of you.”

“Fuckin’ same,” Potter sneered.

“Language Harry!”

Potter kicked his chair back and got to his feet angrily.

“I’m not watching my fucking language. Have fun with your stupid potions.”

Severus sighed as Potter stormed away. He was certain there was a better way he could have handled that situation, though damn if he could see it in the moment.

“Phew,” Barty let out a long whistle. “I’m starting to feel glad that I never wound up becoming a teacher. Merlin forbid I have to deal with teenagers.”

“You spent an entire year masquerading as Professor Moody?” Theodore pointed out.

“Yeah but that was just acting,” Barty said. “I was only acting to be Moody. And he’s not one to deal with feuding students. He’d just curse them and call it a day.”

Which was both true and an interesting option.

One Severus occluded right out of his mind before the idea of stunning his child for the remainder of the summer became too enticing.

“Want me to go tell him that we aren’t even brewing today?” Theodore said.

“No,” Severus waved away his offer wearily. “I will go speak with him. Enjoy your date with Miss Granger.”

Theodore and Barty both gave Severus sympathetic looks as he followed after Potter to find him in his room.

“Harry, may I come in?”

“Oh.” Potter was seated on the sofa in his bedroom and rolled his eyes at Severus. “I mean Theo isn’t in here if that’s who you’re looking for.”

Severus bit back the reply that he clearly was not seeking Theodore, as they were both aware that he was downstairs, and instead moved slightly more in the room, lingering near the doorway though once he saw Potter’s snake slithering around the child’s feet.

“It is you I would like to speak with,” he said evenly. “I believe that my actions have upset you.”

“I am not upset,” Potter scoffed. “I’m just sick of hearing about potions all the time. Don’t you get bored of it? That’s all you do all year, then all summer.”

Truthfully? No. Severus quite enjoyed all aspects and every facet of creating potions.

“Sometimes,” he lied. “I apologize if we have been bothering you with our discussions. I would be willing to limit any ‘potions talk’ to my office if you would prefer.”

“‘We’, ‘our’,” Potter curled his upper lip. “I’m so happy you found a new best friend.”

It took everything that Severus had to refrain from chuckling. He likely would have if Potter had not seemed so genuinely irate.

“Theodore is not my ‘best friend’,” Severus said once he was quite sure his voice would not quiver with any suppressed laughter. “Are you genuinely concerned that I have replaced you with Theodore?”

“No.”

Clearly.

Severus would not ask Theodore to cease assisting him, but it was hardly fair to hold Potter’s emotions against him either. Severus had to remind himself that Potter recently ended his relationship with Frederick and may be experiencing feelings of anxiety of his place within others lives.

Which was not a sentiment Severus discovered on his own, but rather one Lupin shared with him when he previously discussed Potter’s behavior when he delivered Black’s monthly potion.

The Wolf having finally offered a piece of advice to show that Severus’ funding towards his education on psychology had not been misplaced.

“Harry, you are entirely irreplaceable in my life,” Severus said both truthfully and ironically. As if any soul alive could replace Harry Potter. “As you are aware, the potions I make for you, your godfather, and Lupin are all unique and if I am ever indisposed someone will need to brew them. Someone who will not be entirely consumed in politics, duels, and death,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Potter looked ready to volunteer for the position.

“That’s fine, I don’t care.” Potter sniffed haughtily when he said it, but Severus thought he perhaps appeared mildly more comforted. “I’m sure Theo’s a better brewer than I am anyway.”

“You would be my best student if you had the virtue of patience,” Severus said drily. “Theodore is merely more patient than you are, and quieter.”

“Pft.” Potter leaned across the couch to pet ‘Stevie’, the giant serpent appearing as if a docile house pet the way it interacted with its owner. “Well then ‘Theodore’ can be the official Potioneer for the gang if you ever died, which you won’t.”

Severus smirked at Potter’s confidence that he would survive the war. He wished he could share that sentiment, but with Severus’ death being just as likely to come at the hands of a stroke he would hardly lie to him either.

“And if I do then I shall rest easy knowing that for the low price of earning your displeasure for a few weeks, you will not lack treatment for your mental illness,” Severus said calmly. “I will also rest easier knowing that you have Theodore here to assist you as he is a loyal friend who cares for you quite a bit, despite the poor way you have been treating him.”

Potter bit his lip for a moment. His eyes were focused on his pet, but Severus would wager that there was a flash of guilt in them.

“Well if I die first then I’ll rest easy knowing Theo’s here to hang out with you,” he eventually said. “But really I think we should all just try and live forever, yeah?”

“Dear God I cannot think of anything worse. A never ending eternity of idiot first years exploding cauldrons in my classroom?” Severus shuddered for dramatic effect, pulling a small chuckle from Potter.

“I apologize,” Potter said after a moment. “I dunno why I snapped off like that. It’s just... it’s been a long summer, hasn’t it?”

“It has certainly been eventful,” Severus agreed.

Potter looked over at Severus, where he was still standing in the doorway, and offered him a faint grin. Not his true smile, but the best that Severus has gotten in some time from the temperamental brat.

“Maybe next summer Timmy and his followers will all be dead and we can just take a vacation, yeah?”

Severus nodded in fervent agreement.

“Perhaps you and I will visit some terribly private island next summer. You could fly above the ocean and I-“

“Will be making potions because you have an addiction,” Potter laughed, his expression brightening at the image Severus painted. “Just you and me?”

Severus gave him a solemn nod as he promised, “The moment the Dark Lord is dead, you and I will go on a vacation.”

“Brill,” Potter smiled.

And this time it was his true smile.

***

Potter’s childish jealousy at the time Severus spent with Theodore was abruptly, and entirely, forgiven one morning as summer came close to an end. Potter’s tiny grey owl flew through the open window of the kitchen, landing on Potter’s shoulder, and dropped three envelopes off on the table for presentation.

“Look Mione,” Potter laughed, waving one of the letters in his hand, “Hogwarts sent your school list here!”

Severus’ eyes bulged in momentary horror as he saw that Minerva had indeed sent Miss Granger’s supply list for the upcoming year to their address.

Merlin.

How was he meant to explain that when Minerva undoubtedly brought it up?

’Of course I am a competent guardian to Theodore, Miss Granger simply sleeps on the sofa.’

Minerva would never believe such a thing, Severus certainly wouldn’t if he heard it.

“Oh my God!” Granger squealed happily as she pulled a navy and bronze prefects badge from her envelope. “I’m prefect!”

“Congratulations!” Barty said, pleased for the girls accomplishment. “You’ve officially eclipsed me and Sev in power as a student.”

Son of a bitch.

Severus had forgotten that prefect badges would be delivered along with the supply lists.

He had forgotten to prepare Potter for them to be delivered. An alarming oversight on his part. He had no idea how the child was going to react when-

“What the fuck?”

Potter blinked at the green Slytherin badge he pulled from his own envelope.

What the fuck? Severus echoed Potter’s statement in his own mind.

“You- you made me prefect?” he asked Severus. Severus calculated his answer quickly as he saw the shock and excitement in Potter’s eyes.

“It certainly appears so,” he said carefully.

“Not-“ Potter hesitated and glanced quickly at Theodore, who politely busied himself with congratulating Granger. “Not anyone else?” Potter asked rather diplomatically when his true question had been rather obvious.

“You are the male prefect for the fifth year Slytherin’s,” Severus said, choosing his words with exceeding care. “Congratulations.”

Potter beamed as he looked down at the badge.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “You won’t regret it!”

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgment as Potter and Granger rushed off to discover if Longbottom or Bones had also been chosen, leaving Severus alone with Barty and a very quiet Theodore.

“It’s fine,” Theodore said quietly, looking down at the table meekly. “Harry’s top of our year. I can see why you chose him.”

Severus, who now knew that Theodore harbored wishes of being Head Boy his seventh year alongside Miss Granger who he believed would be Head Girl, felt a terrible wave of guilt course through him.

“I chose you.”

Theodore’s head snapped up at that and he scrutinized Severus incredulously. His forehead crinkled in confusion as he read the truth in Severus’ eyes.

“But Harry got the badge?” he said, making the obvious statement a question.

“He did,” Severus said quietly, unwilling for Potter to overhear his confession. “And yet I chose you.”

“But... but why?”

Severus merely hummed in response. He was quite sure what it meant that Albus awarded Potter the badge instead of Theodore, who Severus truly had chosen as prefect, though he would prefer to keep it to himself at present time.

It meant that Albus has not entirely given up hope of dragging Potter to his side and using him in the coming war.

Chapter Text

Wolf, come speak with me before you begin your mission. -SS.

“Grow up Pads.” Remus sent a half-hearted glare at Sirius. “If you’re going to be immature about it then you can’t come see the house with me.”

Sirius let out a soft yip of a bark before shifting back to his human form, though his body still blocking Remus from exiting their flat.

“I am not being immature,” Sirius protested hotly. “Excuse me for not being real excited for the love of my life to go in to a den of werewolves without any backup!”

“You’re not scared of the big bad wolf are you?” Remus smiled gently at his partner. “I’ll be fine.”

“Or you’ll be dead,” Sirius groaned dramatically. “And I’ll be a widow.”

“Widower,” Remus corrected him. “And I’ll be fine. This seems to be a tame pack.”

Remus had spent most of the summer tracking the pack down, preferring to start with them rather than those who he knew were affiliated with Fenrir Greyback as Albus would have him do. The pack he would be searching for was somewhere in the Ox Mountains in Ireland, near Easky Lough. Remus had to call in every favor from most of his contacts to find them, but they all reported the same thing: despite muggles reporting (disbelieving) sightings of werewolves in the forest on the full moon, there were no deaths nor missing persons reports to indicate that they were feral.

“Fine!” Sirius crossed his arms and stamped one foot in a dramatic pout. “But if you die then I’m going to become just the most shameless ‘widower’ imaginable. I’ll bury my grief in booze and random blokes Rem, I swear.”

Remus roared with laughter, in a way only Sirius was able to cause, at that threat.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured him with an indulgent smile. “Merlin forbid I drive you to become some sort of grieving playboy.”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours before I write you off and move on,” Sirius teased as he pulled on his jacket. “You know that warlock at Rosmerta’s is sweet on me.”

Remus shook his head as he double checked the address Harry gave him.

“That man is old enough to be your grandfather.”

Sirius let out a theatrical shudder as they grasped hands.

“Well, grandfather or not, it’s his shoulder I’ll be crying on if the wolves kill you.”

Remus chuckled once more, confident in Sirius’ jesting tone to not feel insecure about their bond, before they shared a kiss and disappeared together with a loud crack.

“Merlin’s teeth.” Sirius let out a long whistle at the house (which was a rather loose term to use here) they apparated to. “Harry went a bit overboard, didn’t he?”

Remus stared up at the imposing building before him and nodded. The ‘house’ was a three story brick building with a faded and worn out sign out front that states ‘St Augustine’s Home for Girls’. Though the blue painted letters had been slapped over top with a bright red ‘CLOSED’ sticker.

“Well... let’s see it then.”

Remus and Sirius both lit their wands, as it was still dark this early in the morning, and entered ‘Moon Lodge’, the name Harry instructed Sirius to title it.

“I think we’ll need at least two house elves,” Sirius said as they walked through the giant house. “And we’ll set up the pantry to be linked to the same vault they use at Grimmauld for groceries.”

“Maybe Mavis would want to come stay here while Harry’s at Hogwarts?” Remus suggested as he counted a sixth bedroom.

“Nah, Barty will use him. What about...” Sirius trailed off in thought before he smiled wickedly. “What about Kreacher? I can buy one elf off Cissa, she’s trying to move them out of their Manor for their safety, and we can move Kreacher here and bound him to this place.”

Remus wanted to be an adult about it. He truly did. He wanted to tell Sirius how much Kreacher would despise having to care for ‘nasty creatures with half-blood’, but... but that elf was a hateful thing.

“Great idea.”

Once they finished the tour of the eleven bedroom ex-orphanage, and Sirius made a list of repairs and furnishings it would require, the two of them split up for their separate tasks. Sirius to obtain all the things needed to make the gloomy house in to a home, and Remus to speak with Severus before hunting down the pack.

“Good morning Severus.” Remus smiled politely at Severus after he floo’d to his office. “How are you?”

Severus looked exhausted, though that would be incredibly rude (and require more bravery than Remus possessed) to point out. His black hair was stringy looking and shoved behind his ears hastily, small strands sticking out here and there. His face was wan and Remus could see proof of the stress he must be in in the hollows beneath his eyes.

Remus thought perhaps being the guardian to Harry Potter was not all that it was cracked up to be. Remus loved Harry, he cherished the time they spent together and the little ways the teen was finally warming up to him, but raising him?

He would absolutely leave that in Severus’ hands.

“You are prepared to leave on your mission?” Severus asked from his seat behind his desk, ignoring Remus’ attempt at small talk.

Remus glanced down at the worn jeans and heavy flannel top he wore in preparation to catch his Portkey at the International Porkey Administration office and then hike through the forest where he believes the pack to be at.

“I am,” he said. “You wanted to speak with me beforehand?”

“Correct.” Severus straightened in his chair before sighing and gesturing irritably for Remus to sit across from him. “Harry is still offering housing and food to the wolves who agree to not join Albus or the Dark Lord, is he not?”

“He is,” Remus said, taking the seat across from Severus. “He bought an old orphanage in Carnoustie Bay. Nearly two dozen people can reside there comfortably.” Remus shook his head at Harry’s generosity. Granted, he had used money that he shared with Sirius and earned solely through an inheritance, but it was still an overtly generous offering towards a group of people who desperately need it.

“Harry is a fool,” Severus said with a hint of fondness hidden in the deepest part of his dark eyes. Remus held back on his smile, certain Severus wouldn’t want to see it. Harry certainly had not learned to give so generously in his endeavors to achieve his own goals on his own. Severus too was guilty of that habit, as Remus and Sirius’ monthly potions prove. Neither Harry nor Severus would ever be described as conventionally ‘good men’, but they both do operate with an honor system and a personal code of ethics.

...even if it is their own convoluted honor systems and ethics that they follow.

“I would like for you to present my own offer to the packs.”

Severus’ words abruptly yanked Remus from his own wandering thoughts.

“What?” he asked dumbly, unsure he had heard Severus correctly. Harry liked werewolves, he thought they were misunderstood and deserved more rights within the world. Severus did not.

Severus sneered at him as he repeated himself. “I would like for you to present my own offer, alongside Harry’s, to the pack,” he drawled slowly. “Am I speaking clearly?”

“Yes,” Remus refrained from rolling his eyes at Severus’ never ending sarcasm. “What offer would you like me to pass along?”

Remus would not promise to pass along any offer coming from Severus. Severus may be a different type of person than Remus always thought of him to be, but Severus despises werewolves. Fears them deeply.

Remus’ fault of course.

But he would hear out Severus’ message and pass it along if he judged it to not be one that would get his own throat ripped out for repeating.

“While Harry is offering food and shelter to any of them who swear to not join either of his enemies-“

And wasn’t it something that they were all able to recognize Albus as Harry’s enemy? Albus who gave Remus the chance to attend Hogwarts, a chance no other Headmaster would have given. Albus who offered him a place within the original Order, an honor at the time that went beyond words.

Albus who told Bartemius in May that Harry returning safely from being kidnapped by Pettigrew and Voldemort wasn’t his concern.

“-I am offering the Wolfsbane Potion, along with a letter to prospective employers vouching for my continued dispersement of the potion, to any member of the pack who vows to fight for Harry.”

Remus, who had no experience in controlling his facial expressions like Severus could, felt his jaw drop and his eyes bulge.

Merlin.

“Kindly close your mouth,” Severus sneered unkindly. “I presume that there will be young werewolves within this pack, children?”

Remus was still too shocked by Severus’ offer to do more than just nod dumbly.

“Those ones I will provide the potion for ‘string-free’, as Harry calls it.”

“But-“ Remus finally found his voice after Severus offered this additional absolute god send “-the cost Severus, it won’t be cheap.”

Remus knew how pricey the Wolfsbane ingredients could be. And how time consuming the brewing was. That knowledge was one of the reasons that he knew Severus to be a generous person deep inside as he refused to allow Remus to offer any payment for the potions... even if he had done so rather snarkily.

’Knowing that any murders or infections you commit cannot be excused by ‘wolf madness’ is payment enough.’

Severus’ generosity couldn’t be denied, as much as he tends to keep it hidden.

But it was showcased on prominent display for this conversation apparently.

Severus waved away his concern with an airy flip of his hand and a smirk.

“Firstly, my vault is of no concern to you,” he sneered. “Secondly, with the reduction in the cost of Moonstone it is hardly a stretch on my expenditures (which must be the most humble thing Remus had ever heard Severus say because he knew even with the lowered cost it was still a pricey ingredient). Finally, and most importantly, I would spend every Knut within my budget to keep Harry alive if that is what it would take.”

Remus finally felt in control of his facial expression enough at that last point to offer Severus a smile.

“You’re a good man Severus,” he said truthfully. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it when we were students.”

Remus wished that James was here to see this. Severus Snape, the young man James and Sirius nicknamed ‘Snivellus’ and tormented for years, was making an incredible offer to a group of people whom he fears solely to increase the protection of James’ son.

Remus was in no rush to die, but he sorely hoped to join James and Lily in the afterlife before Sirius or Severus just so he can be the first to see the expression on James’ face.

And to think that Remus had once believed that Severus was abusive towards Harry. There was no soul still Earth-side more dedicated to Harry than Severus is.

“I was not a ‘good person’ then and I am hardly one now,” Severus scoffed. “I assure you it is quite in my own interests that I would prefer Harry to survive.”

“Of course,” Remus grinned. “Sweet kid like that? Why wouldn’t you want to keep him around?”

Severus’ eyes glittered with what could almost be called amusement for a moment before he blinked and instead scowled at Remus.

“Do you believe that many of them will accept this offer?” he asked.

“Many of them?” Remus laughed in disbelief. Severus must not understand the truly dire conditions that many of his similarly inflicted peers suffer due to their problem. “A home, food, AND the Wolfsbane Potion for themselves and their cubs? Yeah, yeah I think they will.”

Severus folded his hands together on his desk and nodded at Remus. “Excellent,” he said. “I would like a list of names, ages, and weights of those who all vow on their lives, and I do mean an Unbreakable Vow Lupin, to defend Harry in the event of a battle. And I would like it in a week if they want the potion before the full moon in September.”

“Alright then, I’ll bring it with me to the meeting at the end of this month.” Remus spoke absently, his mind whirling with the implications of Severus and Harry’s offers. “A werewolf army,” he said softly. “Insane.”

“Is there a problem with that?” Severus raised one brow in a condescending manner that Remus ignored.

“Not at all,” Remus said quickly. “It’s just... It’s a bit unnerving to be witnessing history as it’s being made. For one kid to be sparking all of this? It’s impressive.”

And terrifying.

Harry may have more power than any other person and he was a kid. An impulsive, temperamental, hormone-riddled kid who distrusts the world.

Severus scoffed dispassionately. “Perhaps you have not been around Miss Lovegood often enough, she has always believed that Harry will change the world.”

Remus agreed with Luna Lovegood’s prediction, but in the private place in the back of his mind he thought that Severus was blind to his own hand in the matter.

Harry certainly wasn’t changing the world by himself.

***

“Take one more step and I will rip the spine from your back, imposter.” Remus froze in the middle of the clearing he had been traveling towards, sweat beading up on his forehead as he felt a sharp blade nicking his lower back. “State your business ‘Wolf’,” the werewolf holding him at knife point demanded in a harsh tone.

Remus drew in a deep breath, reassuring himself that he knew this greeting, and hostility, was a possibility. He was not considered to be a ‘true werewolf’ by many of those who were similarly inflicted due to his insistence on acting as wizard. Ironically, he was not considered to be a ‘true wizard’ by many of his peers for the blood-borne curse he could never cure.

But he had not hiked and hunted through this forest for the last six hours to give up because one wolf didn’t approve of his lifestyle.

“My name is Remus Lupin,” he said slowly. “And I come in peace with offers for your pack from Harry Potter and Severus Snape.”

Remus prayed to Merlin and God that using Harry’s name would be a good idea and not just earn him a literal knife in his back.

“We are not interested in ‘offers’ from those who consider us to be scum,” the man scoffed. “Leave. Before I kill you.”

Remus slowed his breathing down as he focused on his hearing and smell. He could smell the musky scent of wolf blood from the too rapidly beating heart behind him. And, as he focused on scents and sounds outside of the natural wildlife in the forest, he heard a symphony of more hearts, some beating too quickly and some with an even rhythm of a normal human, hidden behind the trees surrounding him.

“Harry Potter doesn’t consider you to be scum,” Remus said, forcing his tone to be soothing but not condescending. “He wants to help you. He wants to help everyone like us.”

“You are not like us. We accept who we are, embracing it, and you are a pet.” The blade against Remus’ back retreated and the man took two steps backwards, the leaves crunching beneath his feet as he moved. “We do not want offers from the man-child who keeps a werewolf as a pet and a messenger.”

Remus held his empty hands up by his chest as he slowly turned around. The man he found himself facing was tall, as tall as Remus, and whipcord thin, looking as if he skipped more meals than he consumed. His skin was a russet-brown, his face lined with familiar scars from too many full moons, and his shoulders steadily strong as he he his sharp blade up in a defensive pose. Remus focused on the dark eyes that carried the weight of a life filled with hardships as he spoke.

“I came here of my own free will to represent Harry’s offer.” Remus spoke steadily, his voice carrying through the clearing to the others in the pack. “I did this because I believe in him and what he’s trying to accomplish. And what he wants is all of us to be considered equals to others. He knows it’ll be hard to accomplish, but he’s still a child and already he’s made changes. He asked me to tell you all that if you’ll remain neutral in any upcoming wars, not siding with the light or dark parties, that he has a home filled with beds and food for you to use. All he wants from you and your pack is a promise of neutrality.”

The man looked surprised, his eyes blinking rapidly, before he curled his lip up and snarled.

“Greyback has offered us much better,” he said, his voice rough and distinctly accented. “He says that Voldemort has returned and if we join him that we will have a place in the new hierarchy.”

“Greyback lies!” Remus spat, anger boiling in his stomach at the mention of the wolf that turned him. “He lies! His Master despises our kind. Calls us creatures. He refuses to allow Greyback a true place in his ranks, solely because of his infliction.”

The werewolf across from him studied the honesty, and hate, shining through Remus’ words and gestures as he considered him. They both shifted their stances to immediate ones of vigilant defense as the leaves rustled from a spot to Remus’ left and a girl appeared. She was young, with deeply golden eyes and tangled brown hair. Her skin was darker than the man Remus spoke with, but her expression was one of hope.

“The Boy-Who-Lived cares for werewolves?” she asked. Remus’ heart clenched as he smelled the wolf blood in her.

She couldn’t be more than ten years old. In another life, she would be attending Hogwarts soon. Instead she was living in a wolf pack, in a forest in Scotland; eating sporadically and lacking the basic necessities if her ragged appearance was any indicator.

Remus was filled with grief as he imagined this to be how Severus first met Harry.

“He does,” he told the girl, speaking straight to her in a gentle tone. He straightened from his defensive crouch to one of openness, his hands clasped in front of him and his expression soft. “He wants to change the laws when he can, but he’s only a child right now, like you. All he can offer you all for now is food and shelter. And-“ Remus glanced beside him to the man he was certain was the pack leader, “-Severus Snape is offering the Wolfsbane Potion to any adult who will vow to fight on Harry’s side during any battles. He said he will supply it to the children for free though, regardless of the decisions of their parents.”

The man’s eyes lit up as the young girl gave a surprised gasp.

“Is that so?” he said thoughtfully. Remus would have questioned how this offer so quickly changed the man’s opinion if it had not been for the rest of the pack joining them. A woman, a definitely human woman, stepped hesitantly from the tree line and clasped hands with the man. She was followed by two dark haired children who grabbed on to the man as well. A human girl in her early teens, and an impishly smiling young boy, no older than seven, who grabbed the man’s trouser legs and tugged on them.

“The potion por me Papa? Por pree?” he said, his voice adorably lisping even as if broke Remus’ heart.

A child too young to talk properly, cursed forever to suffer through monthly transformations, losing his mind each time and gaining scars as he injured himself. It was almost more than Remus could bear.

“My son, Anthony,” the man said. He sized Remus up once more, before he took a step towards him and offered a hand. “Ricardo Lobo,” he said. “My wife Marietta-“ the woman with the black curls nodded politely at Remus, “-and my daughter Olivia.”

“You have a lovely family,” Remus said kindly. “I am grateful to meet you.”

“Let me introduce my pack, then we will decide on your offers,” Ricardo said with a small grunt. “You have met Amber-“ the young girl who spoke to Remus nodded and grasped hands with an older girl, tall with milky white skin and short blonde hair, who also nodded. “That is Sky,” Ricardo said. “Hector, Suzette, and Gizelle-“ a young couple, both heavily scarred and in their early 20’s smiled at Remus, the woman’s arms carrying a small infant.

An infant whose heart raced only about 10 beats per minute faster than a humans does. An infant that both terrified and intrigued Remus. Had she been an accident or did they not care if they passed along their curse?

“These are the newest members of our pack, Everlee and Ari.” Two women close to Remus’ age with identically hazel eyes and open smiles greeted him quietly.

“And that is Marcellus, Lee, and Cierra,” Ricardo pointed at the last three adults, all with the tell-tale scent of their shared disease coming off their body in waves. Remus made eye contact and nodded at each one, but the two that Ricardo identified as Cierra and Lee merely glowered distrustfully at him.

“You have heard Remus Lupin’s offers,” Ricardo called to the assembled pack. “I will not choose for you and we will be a family regardless of your choice. If you will accept neutrality and accommodations from the boy hero, raise your hands.”

Remus felt a swoop of joy rush through him as all those standing around him raised their hands. Even little Anthony did, jumping up and down happily as his father counted his vote.

“And all those of legal age who will vow to fight; not simply for Harry Potter’s sake but for a future where we may be equal with our fellow witches and wizards, raise your hands.”

Remus counted as Ricardo, the couple Hector and Suzette, the twins Everlee and Ari, and Marcellus all raised their hands. Ricardo’s wife, Marietta, despite her exemption from the disease, raised her hand too, her eyes determined as she trained them on her young son.

“Remus Lupin.” Remus turned to face Ricardo, both men sharing expressions of glee. “You have seen our votes. And we will make our vows. VIDA A LA LIBERTAD!”

Remus felt a wash of power threaten to overwhelm him as he translated the phrase the pack family shouted back to their leader in complete unison.

Harry and Severus were singlehandedly creating history.

***

“Wotcher Remus! We keep going to the same meetings, but I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

Remus greeted Sirius’ cousin, Nymphadora, in Harry’s back yard with a polite smile and a handshake. He had felt a bit self-conscious standing there alone, waiting for Harry to arrive so the final meeting of their group for the summer could start. There were plenty of others standing around chatting, most Remus knew but a few he didn’t. Remus had just been awkwardly off to the side, quietly watching everyone else. He envied Sirius for the easy way he made conversation and interacted with others. Remus had always been more shy, more withdrawn; it was only a stroke of pure magic that he’d gained a group of friends as a student. So Nymphadora coming to speak with him was a welcome surprise. He’d seen her before, at various meetings and at Sirius’ exoneration, but they’d never actually spoken before outside of her capacity as an Auror.

“Remus,” he said. “I’ve seen you at Order meetings before. Sorry we haven’t been introduced formally before now.”

“Tonks,” the young woman said with a cheerful grin. “And that’s okay, I’m usually being smothered by Molly after meetings anyway. Bit funny to see us both here now, huh?” she waggled her pink eyebrows, drawing a chuckle from Remus at the Sirius-like gesture. Nymphadora didn’t physically resemble Sirius, not as much as his first cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa, did, but her friendly demeanor and bubbling personality were remarkably similar to his.

“The world works in mysterious ways I suppose,” he replied vaguely, curious how Nymphadora had wound up switching her alliance. He was also undeniably curious as to why Harry allowed her to. Last he knew Harry was only willing to break the ‘no cops allowed’ rule for his previous classmate Johnathan Abbott.

“I think it’s Harry that works in mysterious ways,” Nymphadora disagreed. “Or maybe it’s not all that mysterious after all. You just have to be willing to fuck over Dumbledore and then you’re his new best friend.”

Remus chuckled at that, the mystery of why Harry chose her now solved. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. The two of them would have lapsed in to what may have been an awkward silence after that had it not been for the fact that Nymphadora had never experienced an awkward silence in her life and she spoke up again quickly.

“You went to school with Snape, didn’t you?” she asked. She glanced across the yard to where Severus stood talking with Lucius Malfoy and an indecipherable emotion flashed through her eyes, too quickly for Remus to identify it.

“I did,” he said. “Sirius and Bartemius too, obviously. Lucius was a few years ahead of us, and Narcissa a year behind us.”

“I bet it was exciting, all of you going to school together,” Nymphadora said eagerly. “You, Snape, and Sirius all in the same grade? It must have been wicked. Were you and Snape friends?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably, “It was something, but I’m not sure if exciting is really the right word for it.” At the time, Hogwarts had been the best years of his life. But he was a grown man now, and as Susan Bones once taught him: hindsight is a bitch. “I’m afraid I wasn’t exactly a model student,” he admitted. “I was actually quite a prat to Severus to be honest. Thankfully that was a long time ago. A very, very, long time ago,” he tacked on the last bit as he begrudgingly considered his age.

Nymphadora must not consider him to be as old as he felt though, because she just laughed once more. “It wasn’t that long ago,” she teased, her eyes flicking towards Severus and Lucius again. “You’re both still young, good-looking, and full of life. And that’s what counts right?” she turned her head and winked at Remus, flashing her eyes from a deep blue to an indigo that matched her chin length pink hair nicely.

Remus flushed, the combination of Nymphadora’s words, her teasing tone, and the wink making his cheeks feel warm.

“Yes, well...”

Remus was saved from having to find a reply to her with the arrival of Sirius, bouncing along from where he had been talking with the Weasley’s.

“Tonks!” Sirius greeted his cousin happily. “You’re in then? I thought for sure Harry would tell you to piss off.”

“Oh he did,” Nymphadora said brightly. “But then Johnny vouched for me and Harry made me take an Unbreakable Vow and an Oath of Fealty and he let me in. I don’t think I can even sneeze too close to him without magic killing me off.”

Sirius chuckled, though Remus did not as he was sure that Nymphadora wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. At least Harry would never make the mistake of putting his trust in the wrong person, not like his father had.

“Aah well, you’re here now. I think we’re just waiting on Harry to get started. We might as well sit.” Sirius gestured towards where people were beginning to seat themselves at the table in the center of the yard. “I wonder what’s taking Harry so long?”

Remus let Nymphadora go in front of them and whispered in Sirius’ ear, “I think your cousin may be flirting with me. She said I’m young and good-looking.”

Neither of which Remus considered to be true.

“What?” Sirius let out a bark of laughter that drew Nymphadora’s curious eyes towards them before she shrugged and sat beside Draco Malfoy.

“She’s a weird chick, maybe she missed the part where you’re all mine. I could duel her if you want,” Sirius joked under his breath. “Or we could just start kissing until she gets the picture.” Sirius licked his lips salaciously and winked at him.

Remus smacked Sirius’ arm at that as the two of them sat at the magically elongated table. Remus pushed away his embarrassment at possibly being flirted with in favor of eyeing the other members of Harry’s alliance while Sirius and Nymphadora caught up.

Severus was seated on the far end of the table, opposite from Harry’s empty chair, with Bartemius on one side and Lucius on the other. Narcissa was seated beside Lucius, Draco on her other side. Next to Bartemius was a grim faced man Remus didn’t know wearing Hit Wizard robes and Johnathan Abbott, both apparently content enough to converse with the ‘Dark Lord’ they were supposed to be hunting. Then Fred Weasley was slumped morosely in a chair beside Johnathan; Remus felt a pang of empathy as he saw the look of pitiful sadness still present in his red-rimmed eyes.

“Harry and Fred are really over then?” Remus whispered to Sirius.

“Guess so,” Sirius said with a frown. “Harry wouldn’t talk about it much. He said ‘what’s done is done’. But Fred looks miserable doesn’t he?”

Remus nodded in agreement, silently vowing to try and bring it up the next time he talked with Harry. But with nothing to do about it for now, he resumed identifying the rest of the group.

Ronald sat beside his brother, Blaise Zabini on his other side. Remus smiled kindly at Neville Longbottom as he caught his nervous gaze next to Blaise.

He wondered if it was hard for Neville to be here with Bartemius, considering Bartemius had apparently been falsely imprisoned for torturing his parents. Though, he supposed if Harry no longer minded Sirius being falsely imprisoned for contributing to the death of his, maybe Neville was just following his example.

Theodore Knott and Hermione Granger sat next to Neville. Hermione talked rapidly with Frank’s son about Herbology while Theodore kept his arm around her shoulder and jumped in with an opinion on occasion.

Opposite Theodore, on what will be Harry’s left hand side, was Susan Bones. Who Remus could easily admit scared him just a bit. Luckily for him though, it seemed as if her current ire was aimed in Fred’s direction as she shot him annoyed looks and huffed when Fred raised his hands in a ’what can I do?’ gesture.

Remus would bet that Susan was very much not staying out of Harry’s ex-relationship. She was fiercely loyal to Harry, so Fred must not be doing something she wanted from him. Remus wasn’t sure what it was though. He hoped she was trying to get the two of them back together, he thought Fred balanced Harry out quite nicely. Harry was all cynicism and sarcasm, much like his guardian, and Fred’s optimism and exuberance made the two of them a complimentary couple.

Hopefully Susan would make some sort of headway with the boys and get to the bottom of the abrupt breakup.

Luna Lovegood, seated beside Susan, was moving her hand in the air in a wiggling motion, and humming a soft tune while the silvery-blonde haired Veela witch, Fleur Delacour, sat beside her with a bored expression. Remus, Sirius, and Nymphadora took the open seats between Fleur and Draco and the group waited for the meeting to start.

“Is Harry coming or not?” Sirius complained after only waiting for maybe a minute. Remus loved him, adored him so much his heart could burst when he thought about it, but goodness he was impatient.

“He’s fighting with Mavis,” Theodore smirked. “If Mavis appears with a bunch of pizzas and tarts then you know Harry lost.”

A few people snickered at Theodore’s description. And, when Harry stormed out the back door of his house a few minutes later, his house-elf following behind him with a levitated stack of pizzas and desserts, most of the students broke out in full on laughter.

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, throwing himself in his chair. “Rule one for meetings, no fuckin’ laughing.”

Remus shared a look with Sirius and they both bit their lips to prevent laughing at that. Harry was the leader of their odd group, but he was also still a teenager with an unfortunate penchant for foul language and anger.

“Yes sir,” Johnathan Abbott gave Harry a sarcastic salute.

“I thought rule one was no food allowed at the meeting table?” Luna asked. If it had been anyone aside from Luna who asked in such a sweetly innocent tone Remus doubted if Harry wouldn’t have cursed them. As it was he did narrow his eyes at Luna and flatten his lips disdainfully. Luna continued smiling sweetly at Harry while everyone accepted slices of pizza and pieces of tarts until Harry finally gave in.

“You’re on thin ice,” he warned Luna with no real heat to his voice. In fact, Remus thought Harry never really looked as affectionately at anyone as he did Luna, even when she had been purposefully taunting him a bit.

“May we begin?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded and shuffled the papers in front of him. “Go ahead Mione.”

Hermione sat up straight and smiled over at Harry before facing the rest of the table with a Minerva-like look of seriousness.

“We have a few new people,” she said primly. “When I say your name please stand so the rest of the group knows who you are. Johnathan Abbott.”

Johnathan stood up and raised his hand in a lazy wave. “Johnny,” he drawled.

Remus briefly wondered how Johnathan had gotten the job at the DMLE. Last he knew they were rather stringent about pre-employment testing for illicit substances and the blonde haired young man across the table smelled like he always had when Remus was his professor, like marijuana with a faint scent of whiskey.

Though, the sly grins shared between Amelia Bones’ niece and Johnathan may have something to do with it.

“Thank you,” Hermione told him. “Fleur Delacour.”

“Bonjour,” Fleur stood and smiled across the table. “Zank you for ‘aving me.”

Harry positively beamed at Fleur, leaving no doubt that she was a much welcomed addition.

“Blue Ritters?”

The grim faced Hit Wizard seated next to Bartemius stood up stiffly. He was average height, a bit thinner than Remus had seen in most Hit Wizards, and had topaz eyes that were much harder than his youthful face appeared to support.

“He’s Johnny’s partner in the DMLE,” Sirius whispered to Remus. “Harry says he swore in when Tonks did.”

“Here,” Blue said in a deep voice.

“Is Blue your real name?” Blaise leant forward to raise a curious brow at the Wizard.

“Is Zabini yours?” Blue asked drily.

“Touché.” Blaise leaned back in his chair and smiled politely at Hermione. “Apologies. Go ahead.”

“Nymphadora Tonks.”

“Wotcher!” Nymphadora leapt to her feet eagerly, knocking her chair over in the process, drawing a chuckle from Neville and an exasperated sigh from Narcissa.

Nymphadora glanced towards the end of the table where Narcissa was seated and Remus was surprised to see a faint blush stain her cheeks. “Just Tonks,” she said as she rightened her chair and resumed her seat.

“That’s it for the new members,” Hermione continued along gracefully, not drawing attention to ‘just Tonks’’ clumsiness. “And we’re only missing Juliana Zabini-“

“Who sends her love and assurance that she’s ready to come help you kill Timmy the moment you’re ready,” Blaise told Harry.

“-and Viktor Krum,” Hermione gave Blaise an unimpressed look at his interruption.

“Viktor eez in Lagos for a Quidditch match,” Fleur said, drawing the word quidditch out slowly as she pronounced it. “‘E says ‘e will return ‘ere eef ‘Arry tells him to.”

“Okay great.” Hermione looked down at a paper Harry slid to her, then over at Harry, before rolling her eyes. “The first thing on our agenda just says ‘wolf’ so I’m guessing that means you Professor Lupin.”

Sirius snorted, either amused by Harry’s list or by Hermione’s title for Remus. Either way, Remus felt nervous as everyone turned their attention on him.

Students in a classroom watching him during a lecture or demonstration? No problem. 18 people looking curiously at Remus for an explanation on his recent meeting with a werewolf pack during an alliance meeting discussing war tactics? Stressful.

Don’t choke, he told himself firmly as he sat up straight, suddenly wishing he had worn something nicer than his old cardigan.

“You can call me Remus,” Remus told Hermione with a small smile. “But okay... wolves...” Sirius nudged Remus’ foot with his, encouraging him silently. “Well I found one pack, like we talked about last time,” Remus said. “And there’s about nine adults, four children, and one infant-“

“Zere eez a werewolf babe?” Fleur gasped.

“No, no,” Remus shook his head hastily with a frown. “Or at least they don’t know yet. Both parents are inflicted, so nobody knows what the baby will be like.”

Remus had spent the weekend with the werewolf pack as they moved in to Moon Lodge. He and Sirius took their time getting to know them and ensuring they were comfortable and provided for. Remus felt nothing but respect for Ricardo once he revealed that he voluntarily turned after his son was attacked. ‘My son still needed a father’, he had said.

Remus wondered how different his life may have been if he had a father who loved him that much. A father who built a pack to ensure his son was surrounded by those of similar ‘culture’. Ricardo and his family didn’t view their infliction as a disease, they only saw it as a hardship to be overcome. It was admirable and Remus envied them for their optimism.

But despite his adoration of baby Gizelle, and his blossoming friendship with her parents, Remus was still horrified that Hector and Suzette risked having her. For her birth wasn’t an accident as he had initially thought it may have been. It was Remus’ worst fear, to father children who could be inflicted as he was. Thankfully Sirius never expressed any interest in children and they would have to adopt, or use a surrogate, if he ever did.

“Ooh, apologies,” Fleur smiled brightly at Remus. “Go ahead.”

“Well, like I said, there’s fourteen all together settled in the house because the nine adults all agreed to not join Albus or ‘Timmy’,” Remus felt ridiculous using the nickname Harry gave Voldemort but he knew Harry would just correct him if he said anything different anyway. At the news of the complete neutrality Susan Bones let out a quiet but victorious whoop and Harry smirked smugly, quite pleased with themselves.

“And how many agreed to my terms?” Severus asked. Remus saw as Harry’s attention snapped across the long table to his guardian, his head tilted as he studied Severus with a now blank face that must be masking his confusion.

“Your terms?” Harry asked him. “What are you talking about?”

“I instructed the Wolf to present the idea to the ‘pack’,” Severus sneered the word, “of joining your alliance.”

“A galleon that Harry says gang,” Ronald whispered quietly to Blaise, Blaise and Remus being the only two to hear him.

“It’s a gang,” Harry corrected him, Remus heard a small sigh and Ronald was grinning at betting correctly.

“What did you offer them in return?” Susan asked Severus. Remus was happy that the two of them were now looking at Severus with their inquisitive faces and wary eyes. He hadn’t known that Severus never told Harry of his offer.

“I simply told them I would provide the Wolfsbane Potion to any that swear to your cause,” Severus inspected his nails as he spoke nonchalantly. As if it wasn’t an incredibly kind thing of him to offer. “How many accepted the offer Lupin?”

“Seven,” Remus said. “I only offered it to the nine legal adults-“ though the teenage girl Sky had been entirely prepared to join and fight if he had allowed it, “-and one of the adults, the pack leaders wife, isn’t inflicted but she swore on anyway.”

“You’re giving them Wolfsbane?” Harry asked Severus.

“I am.”

Remus thought it was nothing less than Severus deserved as Harry looked across at him with respect glowing in his green eyes.

It was Nymphadora who replied to Severus’ kindness first though.

“That’s amazing!” she said, turning a bright smile down the table to Severus. “I don’t know anyone who would do something like that. And to think that some people think you hate everyone.”

“I do,” Severus scowled.

Nymphadora just laughed, as if entertained by the mere notion of Severus hating people, which Remus was certain was nothing less than the absolute truth. If Harry were not a key target of Voldemort’s, Remus was sure that Severus would never have made such an offer. Even if it was unprecedentedly kind, it wasn’t without (understandable) underlying motives.

“You’re brill Sev,” Harry cut in happily before Nymphadora could speak again. Remus wondered how Harry evaded Gryffindor when Severus bared his teeth at the nickname. “I’d like to see Timmy try and fight us with seven fully grown werewolves on our side.”

“The Dark Lord has recruited werewolves as well,” Lucius Malfoy said slowly, causing Harry to abruptly lose his smile. “Though not that many.”

“That brings us to our next topic then; ‘spy reports’,” Hermione cut off Lucius with a decisive nod. “Please tell us what all you have learned this summer Mister Malfoy.”

If Remus lived to be a thousand years old he would always remember this day. Lucius Malfoy being interrupted, then bossed around, by a bushy haired, petite, fifteen year old, muggleborn witch. A muggleborn witch who Remus just noticed was wearing a Ravenclaw prefect badge pinned to her blouse.

He smiled at that as he had a fond memory of refusing to take off his own prefect badge from the moment he got it to the moment Sirius tried to hide it from him on their first night of fifth year.

“Very well,” Lucius sniffed and adopted a haughty tone as he spoke. “The Dark Lord- I must call him that lest I slip up and call him ‘Timmy’ to his face-“ he hissed at Harry who had opened his mouth to undoubtedly correct him. “-is entirely focused on obtaining the prophecy and getting an understanding of Mister Potter. He is quite unsettled by the events that unraveled in May.”

“What exactly did happen in May?” Blue cut in. “I’d like to hear the truth now that I’ve sworn in.”

Eighteen heads swiveled to Harry, most of them looking blatantly curious; though Severus looked bored and Fred stared down at the table instead.

“Timmy came back to life, we dueled, then we left.” Harry shrugged after that downplayed explanation. “Nothing crazy.”

Severus and Sirius both snorted, then both appeared similarly mortified at their simultaneous responses.

“You also taunted him in Parsletongue, wielded an unholy amount of wandless and silent power, and overall have driven him to further madness,” Lucius drawled to Harry. “And thus he is obsessed with understanding you and he believes the prophecy may hold the answers.”

“Pft,” Harry scoffed as his friends snickered. “Well let’s let him waste his time with that, yeah? We can just focus on killing him.”

“Which we do how?” Theodore asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bartemius said slowly. “He... he’s unable to die.”

Remus suddenly, and uncomfortably, remembered that up until a few months ago, Bartemius had been an active Death Eater.

“Everyone can be killed,” Johnathan smirked. “You’ve just gotta figure out how. Right Harry?”

Harry smiled sharply at his friend and raised one shoulder, “I suppose so. Nobody’s ever really tried to kill me though.”

Everyone, and Remus means everyone, gave Harry an incredulous look.

“Quirrell...” Susan said.

“Basilisk...” Ronald said.

“Lestrange...” Draco said.

“Black...” Neville said.

“Oi! I was not trying to kill him!” Sirius protested.

“Ze dragon...” Fleur said.

“Timmy...” Theo said.

“...twice...” Hermione said.

“Harry doesn’t count those,” Luna said.

“Why not?” Fred asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the table as he spoke up for the first time that afternoon.

“Because they weren’t very good attempts, were they?” Harry grinned cockily, causing Lucius, Sirius, Severus, and Remus to all either groan or scoff.

“Can we stay on task?” Severus asked. “Or would we rather take a charming trip down memory lane and rehash the many different attempts on Harry’s life?”

“Stay on task,” Susan said. “Sirius and Tonks next, what’s up with Dumbledore’s Order?”

“Same thing,” Sirius said with a shrug. “He’s focused on the prophecy, but...” Sirius hesitated for a moment. “But Albus asked me if I thought Harry would be willing to meet with him this year. I said he’d have to ask Harry that, but I think it seems like he’s looking to bring you to the Order.”

“He can fuckin’ try,” Harry snarled, his eyes flashing with genuine hatred.

“He’s also mad because Fudge is hiring the defense teacher this year,” Nymphadora said, eager to share some sort of relevant information. “He said he couldn’t find one because of the curse on the position.”

“You mean Harry,” Blaise smirked.

“Harry is not a curse,” Narcissa said gently. “He is a blessing.”

Sirius snorted, then covered it with a cough, and when Harry looked unconvinced by his cough he just laughed.

“Sorry Pup,” he grinned at his godson with a teasing sparkle in his grey eyes. “I think you’re a gift for sure though.”

“Piss off,” Susan glowered at Sirius.

“I already knew that about Fudge hiring someone,” Harry waved off Sirius and Susan, as used to their bickering as Remus now was. “He’s bringing in his Undersecretary so she can try and find a way to fire Dumbledore.”

As much as Remus knew that Harry disliked Albus, for good reasons, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of Hogwarts without him. It was like imagining chocolate without sugar.

“Anything else on the agenda?” Theo asked Hermione while everyone tried to wrap their minds around Dumbledore being removed from Hogwarts. Hermione flicked through her parchments and shook her head.

“That’s all we had for today,” she said.

“So- we need to find out how to kill Timmy, we’ve got a pack on our side, and everyone else is worried about a dumb prophecy, am I forgetting anything?” Nobody said anything for a moment so Harry nodded. “Brill. If Timmy’s still alive in March then let’s meet over Easter Break. Everyone bring some ideas on how to start killing him and his followers, yeah?”

Nobody argued with that so Hermione spoke quickly about people’s ‘assignments’. Apparently Remus was in charge of keeping the werewolf pack happy, Sirius was meant to continue spying on the Order, Lucius on Voldemort, and the DMLE employees on their fellow workers.

Bartemius was given the impossible task of deciphering a way to kill Voldemort while Severus was told to ‘just keep up the good work’.

Harry then dismissed everyone with a cheery dismissal that Remus thought was a bit out of place given the situation.

At the dismissal Remus saw as Harry slumped in his seat, his expression relaxing. During the meeting Harry had appeared years older than simply fifteen. Nobody questioned Harry’s right to lead the meetings as he sat at the head of the table and looked on with a war-hardened gaze in a battle-hardened face. Now that he relaxed, even just slightly, Remus could see the weariness he wore in the smudges beneath his eyes and the lines around his mouth.

Just as Remus didn’t think being Harry Potter’s guardian was all that many thought it would be, he also didn’t think being Harry Potter must be very conducive to relaxation either.

“I’m gonna go talk to Harry, are you coming?” Sirius asked as the two of them got to their feet.

“No,” Remus waved him off. “I need to speak with Severus.”

“Have fun then,” Sirius winked before transforming in to a dog and bounding off towards Harry.

Remus watched as Sirius leapt up on Harry, putting his massive paws on him, before jumping back down again and wagging his tail as Harry laughed. Remus wished that he could develop a relationship with Harry that was that light and relaxed, instead he had the ongoing job of counseling Harry. A task he really had no idea how hard it would be, how reticent Harry was, when he accepted it.

Remus shook off his envy and moved towards the backdoor where Severus was speaking in low tones with Bartemius.

“You have the list?” Severus demanded once he spotted Remus, leaving no time for a pleasant greeting.

“Here it is,” Remus barely withheld the urge to roll his eyes. As much as they had grown and matured, Severus still seemed able to bring up Remus’ more juvenile reactions. “The six adult werewolves who swore in and the three inflicted cubs.” Remus included the information on Baby Gizelle on the list, though her parents said she had no further reaction during the full moons than incessantly crying according to Marietta who watched over her.

Severus glanced over Remus’ meticulous list, Bartemius reading curiously over his shoulder.

“Very well,” he pocketed the parchment. “I will have their potions delivered to the address Harry gave me before the next full moon.”

Severus turned his back to Remus, obviously intent on ending the conversation, just as Nymphadora came jogging up to the three of them.

“Hello,” she grinned at Remus before turning to Severus and Bartemius. “Tonks.” She held a hand out that Bartemius accepted easily, though Severus simply raised both brows.

“You might not remember me but I was in your class,” Nymphadora told Severus.

“It would be difficult to forget the blue haired bringer of chaos,” Severus said drily. “As I believe you knocked over my shelves of ingredients at least twice a month.”

Nymphadora shrugged, Severus’ contempt rolling right off her. “I’m a bit clumsy,” she admitted. “But I’ve gotten better.” Severus raised a questioning brow at that, clearly remembering how she had knocked over her chair earlier.

“Indeed,” was all said though.

“I’m much better at brewing too,” Nymphadora said quickly. “And I was going to see if you wanted an assistant.”

All three men gaped at her. Well, Remus and Bartemius gaped while Severus looked scornful.

“No.”

“I’m just gonna go...” Remus trailed off to think of an excuse to leave the conversation, then realized nobody was listening anyway so he shrugged and just walked away.

“Why not?” He heard Nymphadora ask Severus as he hastened over by the broomshed.

“Why not what?” Severus sighed.

Remus had no idea what house Nymphadora had been in, but she must be incredibly brave, or very dim, to continue pressing the issue. He leaned against the broomshed and watched as he shamelessly utilized his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop.

“Why don’t you want an assistant? It must be difficult to do all that brewing on your own. Lonely too,” Nymphadora said. Remus could see that she was giving Severus an odd half-smile, her eyes never wavering from his.

“I prefer to brew alone. Loneliness is better than dealing with incompetence,” Severus said coolly. “If you’ll ex-“

“What do you prefer to do not alone?”

Remus choked on his own saliva at Nymphadora’s coy tone and suddenly he saw what he had missed until now.

Nymphadora had not been looking at Narcissa when she was embarrassed by knocking over her chair, nor had she been flirting with Remus earlier. Remus misunderstood her. She said ‘you’re both young and good-looking.’

Remus watched with unabashed amusement as Severus looked increasingly confused by the attention he was receiving from Nymphadora while he waited for Sirius to finish talking with Harry and Susan.

Remus saw that Bartemius had slyly backed away from Severus and Nymphadora and was also watching with an amused light in his blue eyes.

“What’s so funny?” Sirius asked when he eventually came back to Remus’ side.

“Nothing,” Remus said hastily. Sirius may have gotten over his petty feud with Severus-

’Well it’s not like I’m going to curse the guy who cares so much for Harry,’ Sirius huffed after Severus delivered their monthly potions. ‘He’s doing us both a big favor with these potions too. Even if he is still a stuck up arsehole.’

-but he wouldn’t test this newfound civility by pointing out his cousin was making eyes and taking passes at Severus.

Sirius glanced over to where Nymphadora was laughing merrily at something (incredibly sarcastic and scornful) that Severus must have said while Severus raised a single brow at the witch.

Remus waited as Sirius cocked his head and watched for a moment as Nymphadora put a hand on Severus’ arm and said something indecipherable in a low tone.

“Let’s go home Moony,” Sirius finally said, shaking his head and wrinkling his forehead in thought.

***

“Hey Rem?”

“Yeah Pads?”

“I don’t think Tonks was flirting with you after all.”

Remus let out a light laugh at Sirius’ solemn observation. It sounded as if he had also put the pieces together and wasn’t upset by the image it portrayed. “I don’t suppose she was, was she?”

“If it makes you feel better, I’d take you over Snape any day of the week,” Sirius said, rolling in to his side in their bed and teasing Remus with a coy wink. “And you should know that Tonks has always been a bit of an oddball, don’t take it personal.”

“Whatever shall I do without the flirtations of a witch thirteen years my junior?” Remus deadpanned with a dramatic sigh, causing Sirius to laugh.

Not that thirteen years was a large gap, certainly not for Wixen who have a life expectancy of nearly 140 years, but still.

“Are you jealous of Snape?” Sirius grinned with only a minor amount of actual worry in his eyes.

As if Remus would ever want anyone aside from Sirius.

“Not at all.”

Chapter Text

“Quit that.” Theo didn’t look over at Harry when he said it, he kept his eyes carefully trained on his book. He wasn’t afraid of Harry, not really, but he was terrified of the giant serpent laying across Harry’s lap.

“Make me,” Harry said rudely as he continued to twirl the gun in his hands around and around, pointing it aimlessly at various objects in their bedroom. As if it weren’t a deadly weapon.

“I mean it,” Theo snapped, fed up with his closest friend. “Put it up or I’m getting Snape.”

Theo wouldn’t normally snap at Harry, but Harry didn’t normally twirl a gun around a room either.

He did it with a knife, and a wand on occasion, but never a gun.

“Ooh, go get Snape,” Harry sneered, his voice mocking. The same rude voice he’s been talking to Theo with all week. Because Harry is a jealous prat who doesn’t understand that Theo is not stealing Snape from him.

Theo watched as Harry intentionally spun the gun around with so much negligence that Theo wanted to cringe. He hadn’t known much about guns before Harry’s birthday, but Hermione and her Dad have given him a crash course on them since then and he knows you don’t fucking twirl them around like a toy.

“You’re being a prat.” Theo slammed his book shut and got to his feet, keeping a close eye on all three deadly artifacts near him; the gun, the snake, and the pissed off Wizard with more power than common sense. He carefully tuned around, intending on leaving before he got in a fight with his friend. “I’m going to go downstairs.”

“Run off and tattle to Snape then!” Harry yelled at Theo’s retreating back. Theo turned around and rolled his eyes irritatingly at Harry, a move that would have gotten him a welt from his father.

but he never has to live there again.

never again.

because Harry freed him.

even if he’s so damned annoying.

“Maybe I will,” Theo huffed. “Since he’s the only one who seems able to control you.”

Theo had turned away from Harry’s reddening face, eager to get away from him before Harry started throwing silent hexes at him, and he had nearly made it to the door when-

BANG!

“Oh fuck.”

Theo felt a ripping sensation shoot through his left knee and his vision went red from the pain so searingly hot he thought he might die.

“YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!” he howled. Theo fell to the floor, his left leg twisting beneath him as the blood poured from the wound; red and endless as if the Merlin damned hole in Theo’s knee were an open faucet for blood. Theo put his fist as far in his mouth as he could and bit down on his knuckles, a trick he’d used before to keep himself from screaming. Though even his worse punishments at his fathers hands couldn’t compare to the intense, blinding, sharp pain now radiating through his whole body.

“No, no, no, fuck. Theo. Fuck. I’m so sorry, it was an accident!”

Harry tossed the gun down (tossed. the. gun.) and came running to Theo’s side, skidding in the puddle of blood (Theo’s blood. Endless blood.) and looking down in wide eyed shock at what he did.

If Theo could have removed his fist to speak he would have told Harry he hates him.

He doesn’t.

Harry’s his best friend. His brother.

But he’s also an uncontrollable, idiotic, impulsive, selfish dick and Theo would say that if he could.

But if he removed his fist then he’d scream and screaming would trigger tears and he wasn’t going to cry. So he just bit hard on his knuckles, stared down at the mangled mess his leg now is, and thought angry thoughts about Harry ‘I do what I want’ Potter.

Stupid asshole.

“Hey I can fix it,” Harry offered quickly. “You have to be quiet though. Don’t tell Snape. Please. It really was an accident.”

Theo was so incredibly pissed off at that remark that he was able to push back the pain induced tears that threatened him to scream at Harry.

“I BLOODY WELL AM TELLING SNAPE! YOU SHOT ME YOU DAMN BUFFOON!”

“Damnit Theo shut up,” Harry hissed. ”I want the room to be silent. Are you trying to try my baby taken away? Jesus.”

Theo sucked in a ragged breath, his chest throbbing in tandem to the shooting pains in his leg as Harry’s silencing charm washed over him.

“YOUR BABY?! Have you lost the bloody plot?! You. Shot. Me.”

Theo risked another glance at his knee and unintentionally let out a low whimper. He forced the tears building in his eyes to not fall as he inspected the damage. His trousers were soaked in blood now, the dark hardwood floor around him probably stained forever, and his knee... his knee...

“Is that bone?” he gasped at white bit he could see through the mangled skin. “I’m going to be sick.”

Theo felt a freshly hot searing pain stagger through his body while he turned his head and heaved.

With a detached type of interest Theo calculated the odds of blacking out right there in the middle of their floor. Just giving in to the black spots in his vision and going unconscious.

They were about 80/20 in favor of exactly that.

He thought he knew pain. Really, he did. But this? This was hell. And whatever Harry just whispered to cause that fresh wave of pain was the deepest layer of hell.

“Ta da.” Harry’s hands were smeared with blood as he held up a tiny bit of metal and crinkled his nose.

Summoning. That’s what he was doing to cause a new level of pain while Theo was vomiting. He was summoning the bullet from his knee.

“Hold still, yeah? I’ve never done this before.”

Before Theo had a chance to ask what exactly Harry had never done before, or possibly throw up again, Harry put his hand directly on what used to be Theo’s knee-

“AAAAH!” Theo screamed at the contact. Was Harry trying to kill him?!

He would never even look at Snape again if Harry would just leave him alone to die in peace.

-and murmured, “I want this healed.”

Theo’s entire body was still shaking with tremors as Harry removed his hand, sticky with blood, and inspected his knee.

“Hey, it worked! Look!”

Theo swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth and began breathing slowly through his nose as he risked a glance.

Harry fucking Potter at it again.

Theo’s knee now bore a large, white, star shaped scar. Though it was thankfully healed up and no longer freely bleeding.

“I hate you,” he moaned, his body still screaming in pain even now that the wound was healed. “You’re a dick.”

“I’ll get you a pain reliever if you don’t tell Snape,” Harry said quickly. “Please, please, don’t tell him. He’ll be pissed.”

“Piss off,” Theo snarled. “You shot me. I told you to quit twirling the damn gun around! And now look what happened!” Theo gestured to his scarred knee and the blood that was staining the floor. “Idiot!”

“Okay, I’ll keep the gun out up, and I’ll get you a pain reliever if you don’t tell Snape.”

Theo looked up at Harry’s pleading face while he decided.

“And you owe me a favor,” he said stoutly. “Otherwise I’m telling Snape.”

Harry sighed, ruffled his hair with his disgustingly bloody hand, and finally nodded.

“Fine. One favor, even though it was an accident,” he conceded. ”Bring me a pain reliever.”

Harry lazily waved his hand, his magic opening the door for the pain reliever...

... and then gulped dramatically when Snape stepped through the doorway.

“What, precisely, has happened here?” Snape hissed, eyeing Theo’s leg and the puddle of blood.

“Nothing,” Harry said hastily. A mere twitch of his pinky cleared away the bloody evidence. “An accident.” He snagged the potion that floated to his hand and quickly handed it to Theo with a pointed look. Theo glowered at Harry as he downed the potion before turning a blank face towards Snape.

“An accident,” he repeated blandly. “It’s fine now.”

Snape looked from Theo to Harry multiple times, his brow raised in a blatantly disbelieving expression.

“Then the explosion Mavis told me he heard clear from the kitchen was part of this ‘accident’?” he asked them.

“What explosion?” Harry asked. If Theo hadn’t literally been the person that Harry shot, he would have believed the innocence in his voice.

Unfortunately Theo has the Merlin damned scar as evidence of the exploding noise from Harry’s stupid gun.

“Mavis stated it was a loud explosion followed by a scream,” Snape told Harry, though he kept his eyes on Theo even though Theo desperately was avoiding his gaze. He didn’t want to lie straight to Snape’s face, but a deal was a deal. And a favor from Harry was worth more than seeing Snape take away his gun.

Especially since Theo knew Harry would just take it back.

“Maybe Mavis misheard,” Harry suggested brightly. “He is getting along in age, isn’t he? Wait...” Harry blinked and Theo really couldn’t tell if he was acting or genuinely just trailed off with a new thought. “How old is Mavis?” Harry asked. “Have we been skipping his birthday?! How long do elves live?! MAVIS!”

Thirty minutes later, in the middle of an excruciatingly in depth conversation about elf lifespans, birthdays, and how Mavis would like his to be celebrated in the future, Snape finally stalked out of the room and Harry smirked over at Theo.

“Thanks Mavis,” Harry dismissed his house elf in a kind voice that he only saved for Mavis and Luna. “You’re a life saver.”

“You did that on purpose!” Theo cried as Mavis happily popped back up to his quarters in the attic. “You purposefully irritated Snape so he’d quit asking questions!”

Harry, looking scarily like Snape himself, raised a brow at Theo as he smirked.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “But a deals a deal and I owe you one favor. What do you want?”

Theo smiled sharply at his friend as he moved to his bed. “Oh no,” he said lightly. “I’m saving that for a rainy day.”

Theo could hear Harry grumbling as he inspected his knee. He didn’t care though, Harry could grumble all he wanted as long as he kept up his end of the deal and quit twirling the damn gun around like a madman.

Although...

Theo squinted at the large, white, star shaped scar on his knee and idly wondered if Hermione was one of the girls who seemed to find scars sexy?

Chapter Text

“You’ll write me once you get settled in?”

“Yes Mother.”

“And you will behave yourself?”

“Yes Mother.”

“And you’ll avoid your classmates who are siding with the Dark Lord?”

“Yes Mother.”

“And you will pay attention to me instead of gawking at the crowd?”

Draco whipped his head back to face his mother, flushing in embarrassment at having been caught.

“I’m just looking for my friends...” he mumbled.

“Speak up darling, mumbling is disgraceful,” his mother sniffed, her grey eyes warm as she looked down at her son.

“I said I was looking for my friends,” Draco repeated clearly. “Apologies Mother.”

Draco’s mother shook her manicured finger at him, an action quite undercut by the smile she had.

“You will be careful this year, I mean it darling. If I receive a single message from Severus about basilisks, or any other madness, I will take you straight back to Italy and lock you in a basement. Understood?”

Draco would have rolled his eyes, but he refrained as he knew his mother would just scold him for that as well.

But honestly. The basilisk had been one time. As if he was supposed to let Harry take Ron to chase down the monster by themselves?

“I love you,” Draco said instead. He gave his mother a tight hug, a bit desperately as he worried about her safety since they left the manor. “You’ll be in the same place as before?” he asked her cryptically.

“Of course.” Draco’s mother caressed his cheek for a moment before giving him a gentle push towards the train. “Go now Dragon, go find your friends. I love you.”

Draco gave his mother a last smile before he slowly sauntered towards the train. He wanted to run, pushing between the crowd, as many other students did. But ‘traitor’ or not, Draco would never disappoint his father with such behavior.

Though he did yell once he spotted a group of redheads, “Weasley!”

Ron, and his brothers, all three turned around. Only Ron smiled over at his friend though.

“Hey mate,” he slung an awkwardly long arm over Draco’s shoulders. “You miss me?” he joked.

“Like an infected wound,” Draco said drily. Truthfully, he had missed Ron rather more than he had expected. But as the adults in the Weasley family were cozying up to Dumbledore in the Black family home, get togethers hadn’t been possible much this past summer.

“Ready to go then?” Ron asked. “Blaise, Luna, and Nev just went to find us a compartment. I haven’t seen Theo, Hermione, Susan, or Harry yet.” One of the Twins, Fred probably, picked his head up and looked around the platform with dopey hope in his eyes at Harry’s name.

“I’m sure they’re together, wherever they are.” Draco rolled his eyes at Fred, not that he saw as he was probably looking for Harry.

It was pathetic.

“You look ridiculous,” he told him. “Harry’s never going to take you back if you keep acting so heartbroken.”

“He is heartbroken you arse,” the other twin, George, snapped. “Lay off.”

“Fine.” Draco turned his head and scoffed. “Feel free to keep looking so pathetic, I’m sure Harry will love it.” He turned on his heel and strode off to the train, Ron slinking up beside him.

“You didn’t have to be so hateful,” he muttered. “Fred’s having a rough go.”

“And it’s only going to be rougher if he doesn’t get it together,” Draco said. “Think about it; do you think Harry wants to see him looking so sad all the time? No. If Fred ever wants to win Harry back, he has to do it however he did it the first time.”

Which, in Draco’s opinion, must have been an absolute miracle. Because Harry was powerful, brilliant, cunning, and destined to kill a Dark Lord.

Fred was...

Well, Draco wasn’t sure what Harry saw in Fred. He certainly wasn’t Draco’s type. Not like...

“Hello boys.”

Draco valiantly fought down the blush that wanted to appear in his pale cheeks as Luna stuck her head out of a compartment and smiled merrily at them.

“Hey Luna,” Ron smiled back at the younger witch. “Anyone ever find the rest of the gang?”

“Hermione, Susan, and Harry had to go to a prefects meeting,” she said. “But I did find Theo, I think he’s a bit traumatized at losing Hermione.”

“I am not,” Theo denied hotly as Ron and Draco entered the compartment. “And she’s not ‘lost’ Lue, she’s at a meeting. It’s fine.”

“He’s jealous,” Luna sang softly in Draco’s ear.

Normally, Draco would love to jump in on teasing Theo, who did actually look jealous, with Luna. But he was mad at Luna. So he wouldn’t.

“How was your summer?” he asked Theo, turning his back to Luna.

“Terrible,” Theo sighed and slumped down. “I really think Harry might accidentally kill me next summer.”

Ron and Blaise laughed, but Draco and Neville gave Theo sympathetic looks.

Draco had no idea how Luna responded because he was not speaking to her. Or looking at her. If she didn’t want to answer his letter, then he could pretend she was merely a ghost.

“You could come stay with us in Italy if you’d like,” Draco offered Theo. He thought Harry was a bit mad, so if Theo was worried about his safety, it probably wasn’t without due cause. “It’s beautiful there.”

“I’m not moving,” Theo scowled. “I’m just saying maybe you could tell your father not to keep buying Harry weapons. Did you know he has a bloody king cobra snake now?!”

Draco did not know that. But now that he did, he looked around the compartment eagerly for a sign of it. Harry probably had it on him though... Draco would if he had such a unique and powerful pet.

“Did he bring it?” Neville asked, his eyes wide and worried. “Snape’s going to kill him.”

“Snape told him he couldn’t bring it unless he found a good way to hide it, and last I saw it was still in our room. But you know Harry,” Theo crossed his arms and furrowed his brows in irritation. “It’ll probably be our new dorm mate by the end of term.”

“You think he’ll put it in our room?” Ron gulped.

“Ooh, I hope so.” Draco felt a bit wistful at the idea of the fifth year boys having such an amazing creature nearby to study. “And Harry can translate our conversations! We could actually talk to a snake!”

Ron, Blaise, and Theo did not share Draco’s enthusiasm. Which was fine. Because Luna would.

“Luna-“ Draco cut himself off as he spun in his seat to pull Luna in to the conversation.

In his momentary excitement about the snake, he nearly forgot that he wasn’t speaking to Luna.

“Nevermind then,” Draco scowled. “Neville how was your summer?”

The six of them settled comfortably as they talked, and laughed, and discussed their summers. It was different without part of their group, particularly without Harry being there, but not in a bad way. Just different. Perhaps a bit quieter? Or calmer?

At a minimum, wen the trolley lady stopped by, with Harry being at his meeting still, they were able to purchase candies for the first time ever. The trolley lady looked around their compartment suspiciously before she offered it to them though, which Draco found to be rude and Neville thought was hilarious.

Ron and Blaise were in the middle of a contest to see who could land the most beans in Neville’s open mouth (Blaise was winning) when the new prefects finally returned.

“She sold you guys candy?” Harry asked incredulously, his eyes on the pile of sweets they still had.

“They didn’t threaten her at wand point first year,” Susan said. She sat down on the floor beside Luna and immediately grabbed a pumpkin pastry.

“Merlin, she holds a grudge, doesn’t she?” Harry laughed and moved to the same seat he’s rode in every year so far.

“Well! Tell us about the meeting!” Blaise cried with a blinding smile. “Prefects Potter, Bones, and Granger.”

“And tell us how Susan and Harry got the badges,” Ron smirked. “Worst troublemakers in the school they are.”

“Me?” Harry blinked at Ron innocently. “Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? Special Services Award holder? Triwizard Champion? Order of Merlin Second Class? Can’t imagine what you mean by ‘troublemaker’.”

“You, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, who broke in to a chamber to stab a basilisk with a sword, who got in a contest despite being too young, who killed a man in a graveyard and stole his knife. Yes, you,” Hermione ticked off each of Harry’s counter-actions and their gang laughed as Harry conceded the point with a shrug and a snatch of a chocolate frog.

“Who else got it?” Theo asked Hermione. Draco turned his head as the two of them snuggled on the bench. He wished they would show a little bit more class, their whole ‘terrifically in love’ bit could be exhausting. Unfortunately, when he turned his head away from Theo and Hermione, he saw Luna.

Who he was no longer speaking to.

“Harry and Daphne Greengrass for Slytherin, me and Anthony Goldstein for Ravenclaw, Susan and Ernie Macmillan-“

“Ugh, not that git,” Ron groaned.

“I know,” Harry rolled his eyes. “But he won’t even talk around me, will he? You should have seen his face when I walked in.” The rest of them chuckled and then Hermione finished her list.

“And Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown for Gryffindor.”

“Why couldn’t McGonagall have picked Neville?” Draco scowled. “Thomas is an idiot.”

“Dumbledore picked,” Theo said quietly.

“No, the heads of houses did,” Harry told him.

Theo didn’t argue, but Draco had a feeling that perhaps Theo knew more than Harry did.

Draco sat in his usual spot at the Slytherin table that night, rolling his eyes with Ron at how Harry had proudly pinned both his prefect badge and his team captain badge to the front of his robes.

“I’m surprised he didn’t wear his Order of Merlin,” Draco snickered quietly.

Not quietly enough apparently.

“You’re just jeaaaalous,” Susan sang. “Green clashes with your hair darling.”

Harry and the others chuckled at that, but Draco thought Harry looked a bit distracted. His eyes kept roaming over to the Gryffindor table; probably searching for his ex-Weasley.

Not that Draco noticed, because he was trying very hard not to look at Harry since Luna was laying on his shoulder.

Which was fine.

Draco should have expected that.

Luna was beautiful and brilliant in her own way. She was gentle and loved animals and always wrote long letters to Draco in the summer about different animals she was researching. His mother was mad about her and kept saying Luna was the next Marie Lenormand, who Draco didn’t know. But Luna was incredible.

So it made sense that she would choose Harry.

Harry was handsome, he had a dangerous sort of aura that Draco knew most of their classmates found both terrifying and magnetic, Harry was witty, and powerful. And one day he’d probably be the Minister of Magic and Luna would be Mrs Potter and Draco would have to give a speech at the wedding.

And that was fine.

He knew when he heard that Harry and Weasley broke up that people were going to throw themselves at Harry, he just hadn’t expected it to be Luna.

But it was FINE. Draco was a Malfoy. He would find a different witch.

Or wizard even. His mother and Blaise’s mother spent a whole month over the summer discussing ‘the changing times’.

So... fine. It was fine.

Draco listened as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and welcomed them all back. Harry gave them all a pointed look and they followed his lead, clapping politely at the appointment of Dolores Umbridge as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

“She works for Fudge,” Ron told him in a whisper.

“I know that,” Draco hissed back.

The two of them rolled their eyes when Dumbledore started to talk about ‘the dark times ahead of them’. Though, Draco did perk up when Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore’s speech with a little *hem hem*.

Their group all sat up and watched as the squat, and terribly dressed (Merlin his eyes were burning from all the clashing shades of pink this witch wore), woman stepped up to the podium, clearly intending to give a speech.

“Welcome!” she cried out with what Draco was pretty sure was fake cheer. “It is so wonderful to see all your bright and happy little faces looking up at me!”

Neville choked on his own saliva, and Ron and Blaise ducked their heads to avoid being caught giggling.

Draco kept up a polite mask of interest, because he wasn’t a child.

“I am so happy to be your new professor,” Umbridge said. “Minister Fudge selected me himself-“

Harry smirked and Draco was pretty sure that meant that he had a role in her appointment, but Draco wasn’t going to ask him because Luna was whispering in his ear.

Does nobody understand the proper decorum of keeping your relationship private?!

“- and he wanted me to come here and ensure that you all are receiving the best possible education,” Umbridge smiled across the hall. “Although each Headmaster has brought something new to this historic school,” she nodded at Dumbledore, who Draco was surprised to see nod back since it definitely sounded like she was insulting him in the same way his mother sometimes said someone ‘looked nice’, “progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be prohibited.”

Draco and the others clapped politely again as she sat down and Dumbledore stood back up.

“What’s her deal then?” Theo asked Harry quietly as Dumbledore blustered on.

“She wants rid of Dumbledore,” Harry whispered. “Same as the rest of us.”

“Think she’ll kill him or fire him?” Susan asked.

“Probably fire him,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’m sure the ministry isn’t going to outright kill the headmaster.”

“Shame,” Susan said airily. “Harry and I are going to kill loads of people when we’re in charge, if Dumbledore’s still around then he’s first on the list.”

Draco sometimes regrets having his first kiss with Susan Bones. He was glad it never went past that one date, she had a future about as romantic as the Contessa Zabini did, and Draco wanted no part in that.

When the feast finally began, the nine of them bent their heads together and talked about the first step in what Hermione termed ‘Operation Recruit Slytherin’s’ as they ate.

They had debated on just allowing someone to challenge Harry, but he’d already been challenged loads of times. Last year he was even challenged multiple times by pairs.

And he had to make a strong showing tonight.

“What about the rest of us?” Neville asked Harry quietly. “Wouldn’t it be good to show that your allies are strong too? So people feel like they’d be joining a team filled with powerful people?”

Ron’s eyes lit up the same way they once had when he’d suggested they go flying over the pond at Draco’s manor one summer.

“I have a great idea,” he said. He waved his spoonful of pudding at the others and bent closer, “Listen...”

“This is the worst idea you have ever had,” Draco hissed at Ron. Ron, idiot that he was, just grinned and shrugged.

“Is not,” he said. “Remember last summer? When I said you should eat that candy from George?”

“And my hair was purple for days!” Draco wailed. “You’re right, that was a worse idea.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Blaise whispered.

“Shh, here we go.” Theo’s eyes were glittering with anticipation as they called for duels and Harry immediately stepped forward.

“I’ve got something to say before I call for a duel,” he said. Harry had his hands in his trouser pockets and a cocky grin on his face. “A lot of you guys know what’s going on, you know who’s out there. But you should know this-“ Harry paused, bloody dramatic prat, and let his eyes linger on each and every student who was hanging on his every syllable.

“You should know I’m going to win. I’m on my own side, I follow nobody and I’m losing to nobody. Any of you could fight me about it if you wanted, and you’d lose, or you can watch me duel and decide whose side you want to be on in future fights.”

Nobody said anything, a lot of the older students, who Draco knew had families on Timmy’s side, shifted uncomfortably, but they didn’t speak up so Harry nodded.

“Come talk to me if you want to be on the winning side. Because I’m not likely to forget it if you go against me, am I?” Harry grinned as if everyone in the room was his dearest friend who he wasn’t directly threatening before he shrugged. “I challenge Draco, Theo, Ron, and Blaise.”

“But-“ some scrawny second year with big green eyes stared up at Harry in surprise. “I thought they were your friends?”

“They are,” Harry told him in the nicest tone Draco has ever heard him use. “But they’re not going to hold back, are they?” he gave the four of them sharp looks.

“I’m certainly not,” Theo drawled.

Blaise chuckled and pulled his wand, “A free shot to curse you? I’d never pass.”

The little second year puffed his chest out and smiled up at Harry with nothing less than hero-worship in his eyes. “Then I’ll be your second.”

Draco and Ron snickered at the kid, but Harry just gave him a shockingly nice smile.

“Suppose you lot don’t need a fifth?” he drawled over at them.

“So he can embarrass a fifth person? No,” Draco muttered to Ron who nodded in agreement.

“I think we’ll manage,” Blaise smirked.

“Brill.” Harry flashed a white smile and cocked his head at the seventh year prefect. “We’re ready then.”

The boys all got in position; Draco, Ron, Theo, and Blaise on one side, Harry on the other. The four of them shared weary looks, but they’d all agreed to Ron’s idea of ‘making a show of power’ and they weren’t going to back down now. Even if Harry standing across from them with a smirk and empty hands made a rather intimidating image.

“BEGIN!”

Draco immediately cast a jelly-legs jinx at Harry. Ron sent a neat bat-bogey hex his sister taught him. Theo cried ‘CRUICO!’ which made Draco question if he’d ever truly wanted a brother or not because he was beginning to think it was best he was an only child. And Blaise just danced to the side, watching carefully as Harry dodged the other spells.

“C’mon then,” Harry taunted them with a mocking smile. “Show them why you’re in the gang. Show them why we’re going to win.”

Draco loved Harry. Harry was one of the most important people in his life.

But sometimes Draco also thought he was a prat and wished he wasn’t always so confident.

If Draco couldn’t be that confident all the time, how come Harry could?

He threw himself in the duel, easily pairing up with Ron to lobby spells at Harry. Ron was excellent at shields, and Draco knew quite a few more curses than he did, so it was effortless to team up.

Harry dodged, ducked, dispelled, and danced out of the way of every single bloody curse that was sent his way.

It was actually unfair that Harry got trained personally by Uncle Sev. Nobody had the right to be this hard to hurt.

Blaise and Theo were firing spells consistently as well, all of them trying to watch which way Harry moved so they could aim in that direction, but it seemed like Harry had learned from his mistake since the first private lesson Uncle Sev gave them. Draco landed one curse on Harry’s chest, Ron whispered ‘good one’, but Draco had been aiming for his head, so it wasn’t really that great.

Blaise was a decent dueler, not as good as Harry, but respectable enough. He moved smoothly, never being hit with any of the playful spells Harry sent at him, but not landing any of his own either.

“Sorry guys,” Harry eventually laughed and raised his hands after ducking a stunning spell from Theo. “Don’t hate me, yeah?”

Draco already hated him a little bit. Harry was everything he’d always wanted to be. And he was pretty sure Harry was about to make him look like a fool in front of their housemates.

And he did.

Harry kept laughing, showing the others how easy this was to him, just a game to be won, and began disarming them one by one.

Theo and Draco increased their attacks as Ron was quickly disarmed and levitated up in the air. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder and fired quickly, never letting up once.

Harry glanced around the room one time before fixing his eyes on Draco, ”Give me your wand and go sit down.”

Draco’s mind went blissfully blank.

Just give him your wand. Easy. Then you can sit down. You’re tired, aren’t you? Give him your wand.

It’s my wand though? Why would I give it to him?

Because Harry’s your friend. He just wants your wand. Give it to him so you can sit down.

Harry has his own wand?

GIVE HIM THE WAND.

Draco danced right out in front of Blaise’s jinx aimed at Harry, barely avoiding being hit, and handed Harry his wand.

“I’m going to sit down now.” Draco could hear his own voice, could sense his body moving, but it was like he was on the outside of his body just watching, not in control. He moved to the edge of the circle and sat down.

“You can’t imperio my teammate!” Theo yelled at Harry. “You fucking git!”

“Clearly I just did,” Harry drawled. “Hey actually-“

Harry flicked his wrist up and caught Blaise’s wand, then flicked it to the side and flung Blaise in to the wall of the dome.

“Imperio me Theo,” Harry said. “I want them to see this.”

Theo scowled, but must have sensed his inevitable defeat, “IMPERIO!” he cried.

The Slytherin’s all watched as the spell made contact with Harry.

“Do a backflip,” Theo said drily.

“Nope.”

Many of the older Slytherin’s, the ones who had seen the Unforgiveable used in real life, sucked in shocked hisses of air. Harry stood there, a bored look on his face, as he pushed his hair back and ruffled it a bit.

“Sorry Theo,” he said before he quickly levitated him next to Ron and danced up to him and snagged his wand right from his hand. Theo snarled a bit, but Harry just grinned.

Harry turned around and quirked an eyebrow at the prefect until she sighed, “Winner- Potter!”

The little second year, Bailey Draco was mostly confident, cheered and clapped, but this time Harry ignored him.

“This-“ Harry waved his hand out to Ron and Theo, hanging in the air, and to where Draco and Blaise had scrambled to their feet; Draco’s face was pink with embarrassment, but Blaise had a cocky sort of half-smile which was ridiculous because they’d just lost. “-Is what I can do,” Harry said. “You could challenge me, and you’d lose, or you could join me, and win.”

Harry released Theo and Ron without even turning to look at them, and Draco shivered at the power that he could feel Harry forcing in to the room.

Intentional or not, it was impressive.

“I dueled your ‘Dark Lord’ in June,” he said. His voice was loud, confident, arrogant; exactly how a leader should sound in Draco’s opinion. “And you’ll notice I wasn’t hurt, was I? I’m going to kill him,” he stated it flatly, a fact, not just an opinion. “And if you guys join him, any of you, then I’m going to kill you too.”

Another flatly spoken opinion.

One that would have had Draco scrambling to join him if he wasn’t already Harry’s friend and ally.

“You expect us to go against our families?” One of the Carrow twins asked in a scathing tone. “For what? For you?”

“Nope.” Harry smiled at her, no longer trying to charm them to his side, instead he was showing them a bit of who Draco knew he was; a powerful, unforgiving, survivor who would probably outlive every person in that room. “Don’t go against your families for me, do it for yourself.”

Harry shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, “If you want to be free anyway.”

When Harry swaggered to the dormitory, Draco and Ron waited behind him to start making a list of people who wanted to offer alliances to Harry.

“We did it,” Ron said victoriously as they counted the dozen Slytherin’s who already wanted Harry to let them join him.

“We did,” Draco said. He may not be Harry Potter, and he may not be a confident, powerful, incredible leader, but he was still an important piece in the upcoming games. He was part of the original gang, and Harry had clapped him on the shoulder that night and said ‘what would I do without you Dray?’ and Draco beamed at his own irreplaceability.

Though, as pleased as he had been when he went to sleep, at breakfast the next morning, Draco was in a bad mood. His head had ached fiercely this morning, probably a side effect from the bloody Imperius Curse. Theo gave him a pain relieving potion, but it didn’t help and it was making Draco miserable.

His classes today were a nightmare.

He hadn’t heard from his father in weeks.

AND his hair was a mess.

All in all, Draco thought it might be the worst first day of school ever.

He compensated for his bad mood by scowling at his friends and vehemently denying being in a bad mood. He did take comfort in a short note he got from his mother, alerting him to her safe return to Blaise’s villa in Italy.

That was something at least.

But when Luna ran up to his side at the bell signaling the start of classes, the relief he felt at his mother’s safety devolved in to an annoying mixture of embarrassment, jealousy, and... and probably sadness, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Not even to himself.

“Are you mad at me?” Luna asked him. Her silver eyes were round and shining brightly as she stared curiously up at him. Draco scowled, before signing and shaking his head slightly.

“No,” he said, with what he was pretty sure was complete honestly. “I’m not mad at you.”

If Luna didn’t want to court, that was her choice. She clearly preferred Harry. And who wouldn’t? Who would give Draco a second glance when he was always going to be compared to his best friend?

“Good.” Luna smiled at him, warming his chest and making his stomach flutter. “Because I forgot to send this to you over the summer. I went to do it one morning, but you know how the brismouths can be.”

Luna handed him a neatly folded square of parchment then startled him with a quick peck on his cheek before waltzing away to her first hour potions class. Draco stared after her for a moment, his empty hand touching the spot she kissed him, before he shook his head and slowly unfolded the parchment.

Draco,
I don’t really understand wizarding courting, but if it’s anything like pixie courting then I would be more than happy to do it with you.
I also don’t really understand why you’ve asked me of all people, but I’m very happy you did.
Love, Luna

She forgot to send back her acceptance of his courtship?!

Merlin.

Draco walked to runes with a small smile on his face, despite how much he tried to hold up his ’I am better than you’ Malfoy mask.

He thought this might be the greatest first day of school ever.

Chapter Text

“Mister Barty, Mavis can be bringing you tea if you is wanting it?”

“Thanks Mavis,” Barty nodded distractedly at Potter’s peculiar house-elf, “That would be great.”

Mavis popped away, leaving Barty free to resume his research. He glanced at the information he had gathered from Potter before he left for school, and frowned at the most concerning pieces.

-P. states that V T. attempts to enter his mind.
-P. states that when he does allow T. to enter his mind that he is able to see glimpses through T.’s eyes.
-P. states he gets terrible pains from his scars during these ‘visions’ and blocks them easily with occlumency.
-P. can feel a ‘vision’ building from a throbbing in his scar.

It didn’t make any sense.

Barty had been home alone since Sev, Potter, and Nott Junior left yesterday morning, he’d spent his time meticulously searching through every tome available to him for any explanation for Potter’s link to Timmy with absolutely no results.

He knew that wasn’t his job, not the mission given to him, but it kept nagging and pulling on his attention.

There was no record, ever, of two minds being linked in such a way.

He had hoped it would be an easier task to unravel, but instead it was another dead end. Barty couldn’t figure out how Timmy was still alive, and he couldn’t figure out how Potter had a direct link to his mind.

By all accounts, Timmy should be dead multiple times over. But there were a lot of things about that that didn’t make sense either...

-13 years ago, AK rebound on T. ‘Collapsed’ but didn’t die.
-4 years ago T. on back of Q.
-3 years ago teenage T. possesses girl through diary (girl dying would bring back T?). P. stabs book w/ sword & T. ‘disappears’.
-T. uses P. blood & Paleo-Balkan ritual to gain new body.

“Mister Barty needs to be coming to eat.” Mavis interrupted his frustrated musings with a quiet pop, a cup of tea, and a firm admonishment. “Mister Barty can’t be hiding in the basement or Mavis will be telling Master that Barty is not listening to Mavis.”

Barty barked out a laugh and looked fondly at the elf. Every interaction with Mavis made him think of his fathers house-elf, Winky. The kind elf who’d been more of a parent to him than his father was. “You’re bossy, aren’t you?”

Mavis puffed his chest out and pointed a long finger in Barty’s face. “Mavis is not being bossy. Mavis is being the boss of Master’s house when Master is away. And Mister Barty is coming upstairs to eat.”

“Yes sir,” Barty said. He sighed when he looked down at his research, it wasn’t going anywhere right now anyway.

Barty looked around the dining table sadly once he was upstairs. It had been nice, feeling as if he were part of a family. Even if it was the most peculiar family in history. They had all fit together over the summer, finding ways to relate to one another and interact with more than just forced civility.

Sev was obviously the parent, Potter the loud child, Nott Junior the quiet one, and Barty had gotten to be a pseudo-uncle of sorts. It was an odd family, to be sure, but certainly indefinitely better than the one they had all been born in to individually.

And now it was quiet.

Which Barty hated more than anything.

The silence was being left alone as a child, unfit to mingle with the guests his father was hosting.

The silence was Death Eater meetings, questioning who would be tortured next or who they would be asked ordered to kill.

The silence was Azkaban, broken only by his sobs for his mother and the maddening shrieks from his cellmates.

The silence was over ten years spent under the imperius curse, finally the silent ghost of a son his father always wanted.

Barty hated the quiet.

“What do you usually do during the school year?” Barty asked Mavis, scraping his chair loudly as he sat. “When the others are gone- what do you do?”

Mavis levitated a plate of beef and vegetables to Barty and cocked his head thoughtfully.

“Mavis cleans. Mavis isn’t cleaning as much in the summer because Master Potter gets mad at Mavis, he is saying ‘I can clean up after myself’, but Master is very bad at cleaning.”

Barty grinned around a forkful of carrots at that, he was quite sure that Potter was a dreadful cleaner.

Potter was more interesting than Barty had even initially imagined. He was an absolute whirlwind of chaos over the summer, hardly a day went by without something fascinating coming from his mouth. And he easily befriended Barty, as if they were equals in some way, a startling shift from the last dark and powerful leader Barty had followed.

But tidy? That was hardly a description that would fit Potter.

“Now Mavis is having to feed and clean up after Stevie until Master can come get him,” Mavis shuddered delicately, apparently not a fan of Potter’s beautiful new pet. Which was mad, because Barty would have emptied his vaults if he thought he could convince Juliana Zabini to smuggle a king cobra snake in to England for himself.

It was no wonder Potter wanted to become the Minister of Magic, Barty would aspire to lord over the entire world if he’d been gifted with the powers Potter held.

“I can feed him,” Barty offered quickly. “I don’t mind Mavis.”

Mavis narrowed his eyes at Barty. “Mavis is telling Master I will be doing it and I will be doing it.”

“Potter probably didn’t know you were scared of the snake or he never would have asked you,” Barty pointed out kindly. “I can write him, if you’d like, and see if he minds me feeding Stevie.”

“No.” Mavis wagged a disapproving finger at Barty from his spot beside Sev’s stove. “Master Potter is busy with his school and his not dying, Mister Barty is keeping his nose in his own business.”

“Alright, alright,” Barty held up his hands placatingly. “So that’s it then? You just clean and feed Stevie?”

“Mavis is also listening to make sure Master isn’t needing him to come save him from a very big and very mean snake again.”

Barty sensed a good story here. He kicked out the chair next to him and gestured for Mavis to sit.

“Tell me everything,” he grinned.

After polishing off the meal Mavis prepared for the two of them, Barty retired to his room. He grabbed his journal from his nightstand and then laid across his bed, slowing his breathing and trying to focus on the memories he wanted to sift through. He was no good at mental exercises, not like Sev, but he had plenty of practice of burying himself in his own memories to suffice for the time being.

Inhale for five; one... two... three... four... five.

Exhale for seven; one... two... three... four... five... six... seven.

Barty pulled up the day the Dark Lord found him in his fathers home.

’Who’s there?’ his father demanded, his wand trained on the door.

‘P-Peter P-Pettigrew.’

‘What in the blazes?’ His father slowly opened the door. The door was shoved harshly against his body.

‘IMPERIO!’

Barty watched impassively from his invisible place on the couch.

‘Are you ready to serve your master once more?’

‘I am, my Lord.’

‘We will not let Miss Jorkins’ information go to waste, will we?’

‘No my Lord,’ Barty and Pettigrew both murmured reverently with their heads bowed.

The Dark Lord, in his infantile homunculus body, ran a small and disfigured hand down the scales of the giant snake.

‘Her death was already most useful,’ he said softly. ‘Wasn’t it my lovely Nagini? The most precious of my belongings.’

Barty pulled up the memory of the night before he’d set out to replace Alastor Moody.

’My Lord, my Lord please,’ he begged from his knees. ‘Tell me how this miracle was made possible!’

The Dark Lord let out a sibilant noise, a call to his Nagini.

‘One day, perhaps, if you prove yourself to be the most worthy of my loyal followers, and after Harry Potter is dead at my feet, I’ll tell you of how I explored magic that none others would dare. I have overcome death. I, and I alone, have traveled paths that would make weaker wizards sick to even imagine as I finally conquered the unconquerable.’

Barty shifted on to his stomach, meticulously writing down every syllable spoken, every facial expression, no matter how minute. He combed through the memories carefully. The answer was there, it had to be.

No wizard could truly be forever immortal. There had to be a way to kill him.

Potter gave him his order and he would fulfill it.

He’d never not been able to solve a problem with enough research and work, and he didn’t plan on starting now.

Barty was back at his desk, tearing through books as quickly as he could before the first rays of sunshine even graced the sky.

He scanned for mind links or anything that would indicate how a wizard could keep reappearing despite all the evidence pointing to his death.

Well they aren’t soulmates, he scoffed at one explanation for ‘mind-to-mind communication’ in a book from the Black library titled ’Soulbonds for the Sinister’.

Barty set the book aside, intending to pursue it more closely after he’d found a lead on how to kill Timmy. Soulbonds were incredibly dark and illegal magic, as most magics involving the manipulation of the soul were. It was a fascinating subject all covered within a book that only a family as ancient and dark as the Black’s were that would dare own it.

Barty looked at the stacks and stacks of books left to dig through in exasperation. It was as if he were searching for a hypothetical golden needle in a stack of silver needles.

But Barty was no quitter.

Even if he was easily distracted by some of the subjects covered in the highly illegal books.

He was furiously scribbling an entire list of curses that could allow a person to duplicate parts of their body when Mavis popped in to interrupt him once more.

“Mister Barty is needing to come eat lunch,” Mavis scolded him.

“Mister Barty is busy,” Barty muttered, flinging the book off his desk, another useless one when it comes to the seemingly impossible mission he’d been given. “Bloody hell! Why is this so hard Mavis? There has to be an explanation for it in one of these books!”

Mavis picked up a book of the stack from the Black family home and held it gingerly between his long fingers. “Mavis is overbearing that Mister Barty is looking for a way to kill Timmy?”

“Kind of,” Barty took a few calming breaths and tried to sort out the information in his own head. “I need to find out how he’s alive first, then I can use that information to figure out Potter can kill him.”

“And Timmy is the bad man trying to kill my Master Potter?”

“Yes.”

Mavis scowled and levitated the book he plucked out of the pile to Barty’s desk. “Timmy is an evil, mean, nasty wizard,” he said, his voice high-pitched with indignation. “Mister Barty is needing help to find bad Timmy’s secrets faster so he will be leaving Master Potter alone. Mavis will be helping him. After lunch.”

“Yes sir,” Barty agreed quickly with an eager bob of his head. Merlin knows he wasn’t coming up with a single scrap of information on his own.

Even with Mavis’ help and the two of them going through books twice as quickly, it wasn’t until the next night that they finally caught a break.

“Why is some people be calling bad Timmy ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” Mavis asked, his large eyes were squinting at a line in an dusty book he held.

“People are afraid that even mentioning his name is some sort of curse,” Barty murmured. He was pursuing an ancient book of fae curses, questioning if Timmy could have been cursed by the fae with everlasting life. He wrote it on a list of ‘possibilities’ even as he disregarded it mentally. Timmy said he had ‘explored magic that none others would dare’, that didn’t sound like a curse to him.

“Like a horcrux then.”

“Sure,” Barty agreed absently as he translated the next line of text in his book. “Wait. What?”

Mavis pointed at a passage in his book and read it aloud: “‘And of the horcrux, the wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak’, like bad Timmy’s other name.”

“What book is that?” Barty asked curiously. He’d never heard of a ‘horcrux’ before, and if a book from the Black library refused to speak of it, then it must be especially dark.

“‘Magick Moste Evile’,” Mavis read the title dutifully. “There is a lot of most evil magics in here Mister Barty.”

“May I see it?” Barty asked politely. He scanned the text and flipped around in the book, looking for any other reference for the singular term. “Why...? Why even mention it then?” he mumbled to himself. “Mavis have you seen it mentioned anywhere else?”

“Mavis is not,” Mavis shook his head quickly. “Mavis is only seeing the ‘wickedest of magical inventions’ in this book Mister Barty.”

“Hmm...” Barty tapped his chin thoughtfully, internally grimacing at the scruff that was proof of his mission overtaking proper hygiene, as he looked over the neat stack of perhaps 300 more books they had to go through. “‘Wickedest of magical inventions’...” He got up from his chair, stretching his stiff back out painfully before sitting down in front of the books. He refrained from trailing his fingers down the spines, some of the books held nasty curses he had to untangle before pursuing, and he looked for any that might offer an explanation of the magic so wicked that ‘magic most evil’ wouldn’t describe it.

“‘Dìomhaireachdan Nan Ealan as Dorcha,’” Barty translated the Gaelic title of a book that looked as ancient as time itself. “‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts’.”

Barty and Mavis exchanged a loaded look after he removed seven nasty curses from the book cover. A new highest record for curses on a singular book. Barty felt a dark tingle go through his body as he opened it; there was undoubtedly a plethora of unknown, illegal, and impossibly dark spells in here. The mere fact it came with seven complex curses on the cover and the actual dark aura radiating from it only supported that theory.

“Mavis, can you write what I read?” Barty asked, his nose curled at the Gaelic text. He couldn’t translate mentally quick enough to process the actual words, and a translation spell would no doubt be blocked by the tombs own dark magic.

“Mavis can.”

The two of them worked through the night. Mavis transcribed what Barty read aloud, then Barty translated that in to English. It was slow going, chapter by chapter, but when they reached the forty-second chapter- it was worth every second.

“WE FOUND IT!” Barty shrieked. He hugged Mavis in a fit of jubilant exhaustion. “This is it Mavis! This is what he used!”

“Mavis is not understanding.” Mavis squinted at the paper Barty just read. “Why is you’s so sure this is the wicked magic bad Timmy used?”

“Listen,” Barty said eagerly. “This is the spell to ‘prepare the receptacle with dark magic to become the receptacle of a fragmented piece of soul and that that piece of soul deliberately detached from the Master Soul to act as a future safeguard or anchor to life and to safeguard against death.’”

It fit. It fit perfectly.

Timmy would have had to travel past the path of traditional magic, an unexplored dark path, to find this and to pursue it. Soul magic was one magic that even the darkest and most powerful of Wixen hardly dared to toy with. To destroy your soul intentionally? A cursed life by unicorn blood would be preferable.

It was no wonder...

Merlin.

“He got less and less sane as time went on,” Barty whispered.

’These are the newest recruits Lucius?’ Tom Riddle, handsome with slightly waxy features and a thick feeling of intoxicating magic surrounding him, sneered down at the deferent bowed figures of Sev, Regulus, and Barty.

‘Yes my Lord,’ Lucius said from behind them. ‘Severus Snape, Regulus Black, and Bartemius Crouch Junior.’

‘Hmm, and why should I accept you in my ranks?’ Riddle asked in a deceptively soft, but humane, voice. ‘What can you offer me?’

Barty peeked up at him as the spoke, a quick glance at the man his friends convinced him to tie himself to, and felt reassured by the charismatic gleam in his dark brown eyes.

The same room, the same chamber in Malfoy Manor, now only a few years later.

’I WILL KILL HIM! I WILL KILL ANY WHO DARES BELIEVE THEY ARE MY DOWNFALL!’ Voldemort screamed, his crimson eyes flashing and spittle flying from his mouth. ‘TONIGHT! I WILL END THIS TONIGHT!’

‘My Lord... they are undoubtedly protected,’ Sev said hesitantly. ‘Wouldn’t it be best if you waited to see if the child is a threat once he’s older?’

‘CRUCIO!’

“He... he must have made more than one.” Barty was breathless with the realization. “Mavis. He made more than one.”

He thought of Timmy’s laugh when he said how useful the death of Jorkins was.

‘Wasn’t it Nagini? The most precious of my belongings.’

Belongings. Plural.

“HE MADE MORE THAN ONE!” Barty leapt to his feet and began pacing. “And I’m sure that Bertha Jorkins was the witch that made one! Nagini! It has to be Nagini!”

“So... Timmy is detaching many pieces of his soul?” Mavis gasped, disgusted and disturbed by the information. “How is it being done?”

“Murder,” Barty said grimly, tapping his wand to his thigh as he paced. “He had to kill someone to pull apart his soul.”

“He is killing people and trapping his soul pieces in snakes?”

“Probably not all snakes,” Barty muttered. He screwed up his face while he thought. “But ‘receptacles’... they would be things precious to him.”

“Mavis is going to be sick.”

Barty paused his pacing long enough to watch little Mavis hiccup and then expel his stomachs contents in the trash bin beside Barty’s desk.

“Mavis is not liking to be helping anymore,” he said weakly. “Mavis would rather be feeding Stevie than hearing about soul splitting.”

“Of course Mavis,” Barty said kindly. “Why don’t you go lay down?” He looked at the dawning lights gracing his windows. “We’ve been at this for ages, and this is it. I’m certain of it.”

“Mavis will be going to bed,” Mavis nodded frantically, desperate to escape the discussion of such a terrible magic. “Mister Barty should be going to bed now too.”

“I will soon,” Barty waved him off. His body was thrumming with adrenaline at his discovery.

He looked over his notes on the many interactions Potter had with Timmy and felt overwhelmingly smug as he realized it all fit.

It all fit so perfectly.

All that would need done was to discover what the horcruxes were, find them, and destroy them.

Potter was going to be incredibly pleased with him once he shared this information. He nearly wrote a letter to him then and there, but decided he would wait until he could tell Potter in person. If the letter was intercepted, it could get back to Timmy and their newest advantage would be lost.

Barty snagged a few of the books from the ‘useless to my mission but I want to read later’ pile and settled down in his bed with them. He chose one at random, idly wondering if Potter gave out promotions within his ranks?

If so, Barty will certainly earn one with this information.

He flipped open the first book he wanted to read for leisure, ’Soulbonds for the Sinister’. He chuckled at the irony before he began reading it much more thoroughly than he had earlier. He let the relaxing activity soothe the adrenaline that had been coursing through him.

He could feel his eyelids weighing down as he read on about the many different ways soulbonds could be achieved, the grossest of which involved feeding both matches a vial of each other’s blood along with the blood of ‘an innocent whose life was taken in a sacrificial act by both matches’.

Disgusting.

Barty closed the book and curled up in his bed, feeling warm and incredibly satisfied with himself.

Potter was going to be so pleased. If Barty could discover the reason for the mind-link between Potter and Timmy then he could even surpass Susan Bones in the ranks. He would work on it tomorrow. If he could find out about horcruxes, then he could figure out how a mind-link could be forged between two powerful wizards.

Barty’s sat up abruptly with renewed manic glee as he realized the solution to both tasks he had undertaken was one and the same:

A horcrux.

It wasn’t until he had considered the mind-link in the same sentence as the horcrux that it clicked.

Potter and Timmy were soulmates in a sense.

A horcrux would create a soulbond between Potter and Timmy, allowing them to link their minds. It would forge the connection and could have even transferred some of Timmy’s powers to Potter, explaining the part of the prophecy where Timmy had marked him as an equal. Potter’s ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’ would be his immense control of his intent based and wandless magic. But... but it all fit.

Timmy’s soul must have been incredibly unstable when he attacked the Potter’s, and a piece of his soul shattered at the murder of either James or Lily, and it clung to the only nearby and suitable receptacle.

Timmy made Potter a horcrux.

He did it.

Barty solved it all!

...

He solved it all...

Barty quickly lost the thrilling rush of solving such a complex problem when he considered how the one dark solution fit so neatly.

Horcruxes.

A horcrux in Potter.

A horcrux that could only be destroyed, according to ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts’, by destroying the receptacle past magical recuperation.

Barty hadn’t been able to sleep after that.

Chapter Text

Two days.

Severus had a relatively peaceful two days back at Hogwarts before Potter started his nonsense.

Severus had given his customary speech to the fifth year Slytherin and Gryffindors. He stressed the importance of OWLS and told them the minimum scores he would accept past this year.

He thought perhaps Longbottom looked just as relieved as he was that this would undoubtedly be their last year together.

His eyes flicked over the class as they began copying notes for the days brew, judging which ones would continue to be his problem after June.

Certainly not Longbottom or Finnigan. It would be a surprise if Thomas pulled an O on his finals, but not impossible. Patil and Brown would never continue with a class they deemed ‘disgusting’ even if they did have the required grade.

Parkinson would never pass, same for Bulstrode and Davis. Greengrass would if she wished to continue on. Zabini was a faint possibility. Weasley would never. Theodore would certainly get full points, as would Draco and Potter.

Although...

“Perhaps you would prefer to copy my notes in detention?” Severus asked them quietly. Neither had transcribed a single word, and were instead in a heated debate of some sort.

“No sir,” Draco said immediately. Potter ignored Severus altogether and chose to continue scowling at Draco.

“See me after class,” Severus sighed once it was obvious that Potter would continue the argument the moment he stepped away.

Day two.

It was day two.

What possible problems with Draco could Potter already be having?

Severus kept a careful eye on the boys, as they were meant to be partners in class, while they brewed. They continued whispering harshly to one another, Potter’s eyes were flashing and Draco’s cheeks were pink. The potion they turned in was not their best work, a clear result of the discord between them.

Severus waited behind his desk and resigned himself to once again play peacekeeper in Potter’s relationships. Truthfully, he had long since resigned himself to having frequent enough after class discussions with Potter since his first year that he had rearranged his classes to ensure that Potter’s potion class on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s were the last ones for the day.

Both boys now stood in front of his desk as their peers filed out. They were on opposite corners of his desk, neither looking at the other, though Draco’s hand kept flinching towards his pocket every time Potter moved.

Severus thought it seemed as if Potter were purposefully doing it, but as it was rather amusing...

“What is the problem here?” Severus asked.

“Draco is courting Luna!” Potter immediately snarled. “Luna Lovegood. He’s courting her!”

Severus raised surprised brows at his godson, only mildly disappointed to not have been told this before now.

“Are you truly?”

“Yes.” Draco’s chin lifted in a stubborn manner and his eyes were steely as they met Severus’. “I asked her over the summer and she accepted yesterday. I had planned on telling you this weekend-“ here he scowled at Potter, who shuffled his foot and smirked at Draco’s flinch “-but I’m not going to apologize and I’m not going to end it just because Harry’s a jealous prat.”

“I’M NOT FUCKIN JEALOUS!” Potter yelled at Draco.

“Then what is the problem?” Severus asked calmly, ignoring both Potter’s reprehensible language and his tone. It occurred to him in that moment that perhaps he should have been firmer about Potter’s language years ago, but it was a moot point now.

“He is courting Luna,” Harry spat. “Luna, Sev. Luna.”

“And Harry obviously wishes he was instead,” Draco sneered unhelpfully. Severus held a hand up to silence his godson and focused on Potter.

“Why is this a cause for concern? Miss Lovegood is perfectly safe with Draco. Are you aware that there are customs surrounding a traditional courtship? Miss Lovegood is hardly in any danger of being infringed upon in any type of manner if Draco is following those traditions.”

“Which I am,” Draco said quickly. “Mother went over it all with me again this summer before I asked Luna.”

Which was a true relief to Severus. If Draco was courting Miss Lovegood under the traditional guidelines, then there were a series of rules he was required to follow, thankfully one that prohibits sexual contact before a formal engagement was established. Even then, it was frowned upon before marriage, but young couples got carried away all the time.

As Severus is now all too aware of.

He desperately hoped that Draco and Lovegood would wait, as Severus did not want to fulfill Lucius’ role of discussing safe-sex with Draco. Though, if need be, since Lucius was forced to currently disown his son, Severus would step up as his godfather.

“I don’t like it,” Potter fumed. “I don’t like it one fuckin bit.”

“Because you’re a jealous p-“

“Call me a jealous prat one more fuckin time and I’m going to kill you,” Potter hissed.

“That is enough.” Severus slammed his hand on the desk in irritation. “Draco, dismissed. Harry, do not move.”

Draco turned his nose up in the air and stalked out of the room, slamming the door harshly behind him.

“Sit,” Severus ordered Potter curtly. He waited while Potter hesitated, his eyes flickering around the room once, until the child finally threw himself in the chair.

Severus kept his expression entirely neutral as he asked, “Are you jealous?”

“No.” Potter scowled once more. “Well... maybe. Sue says I am, doesn’t she? But it’s not what you and Draco fuckin’ think.”

“What do we think?”

Potter huffed and slumped down in his seat, smoothing the armrest repeatedly with his thumb. “He thinks I want to be with Luna, so he thinks I’m jealous of him. Which is fuckin daft, yeah?”

Severus prayed that he was not about to make an erroneous guess as he considered other sources for Potter’s jealousy. The jealousy that he was, once again, showcasing through anger. Severus could scarcely judge him for that, as anger had always been his own preferred way to handle himself, but he would like Potter to grow to be a healthier adult than he was.

“You are jealous of the relationship, not of Draco himself.”

Potter jerked his chin in a short nod and Severus silently patted himself on the back.

“Harry, you are not without your own charms,” Severus smirked as he considered the many students who gossiped about his ward. “If you do not wish to be with Frederick, why not pursue a new relationship?”

“I don’t want a new relationship,” Potter sneered. “It’ll be the same thing each time, yeah?”

“Hmm.” Severus waited, unsure what the true issue between Potter and Frederick had been, though he was hopeful that his curiosity would now be satisfied. He had not believed it was purely for Fredericks safety during the war, as Potter was hardly that selfless to make himself miserable for someone else’s safety. “What specifically is the difficulty that you are hoping to avoid within your romantic relationships?”

Potter opened his mouth to reply, then hastily shut it and scowled instead. “Nevermind,” he said shortly. He got to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at Severus, “If Draco hurts Luna then I’m bringing you his body.”

Severus had snorted, rolling his eyes at his dramatic and overtly reticent ward, but he debated internally if he would help Potter hide the body of his godson.

He probably would.

Not that Potter would need it.

By their next class on Thursday, Severus thought that the boys must have sorted it out without too much violence. Or, at least, not enough violence that he was informed of his students dueling in public. Potter was entirely pleasant to his partner during that class, and Severus even caught him talking with Miss Greengrass in the corridor afterwards.

So, perhaps, Potter was even taking his advice and moving on from Frederick.

Potter had been laughing and giving Greengrass a smile that others refer to as ‘charming’ and Severus privately refers to as ‘James’’.

It wasn’t often that Potter resembled his deceased father, but when he was propped against the wall of the corridor, smiling and running a hand through his dark locks of hair, while he chatted up a pretty young witch, the resemblance was uncanny.

And, to Severus’ never ending amusement, when Potter smirked at Greengrass and shook her hand, Severus couldn’t help but think it was a bit reminiscent of himself.

***

Severus was barely restraining himself from tapping his foot impatiently during the first staff meeting of the year after classes on Friday.

It was meant to start at seven, and it was already ten after and Albus looked no closer to beginning to meeting than he had when Severus arrived promptly at five til.

”*Hem, hem.*”

Albus looked up from his jolly conversation with Filius at Dolores’ forced cough. “Yes Dolores?” he asked her, his tone polite but his eyes quickly losing their glimmer.

“I was wondering if we could get this meeting going or if we were going to have the prefects patrol all night Headmaster,” Dolores said with her saccharine voice that grates every nerve in Severus’ body.

“Merlin no, it’s Bones and Potter on this evening,” Pomona murmured, causing Minerva to grimace and Filius to chuckle.

“Of course we can begin,” Albus said cheerfully, as if he were not taking orders from the new ministry lackey Fudge sent to dethrone him.

Not that Severus was against Albus’ removal from Hogwarts, and the Minister was technically on Severus’ side, but by principal he placed a bare amount of trust on any government figures.

“How are our newest students?” Albus called across the room, causing the other teachers to break out in opinions on the first years. Severus said nothing, as he had no helpful opinion to add. The first year students were as woefully inept as the ones that came before them and as surely the one after them will be. Minerva raves about a first year who was able to transfigure her matchstick in to a needle on the first try- which Severus found outrageously rude since she had never complimented Potter on that same feat when his had even been wandless and silent.

“And how are you settling in Dolores?” Albus asked the newest professor, if one could call her such a thing. Severus had spoken with a tearful Miss Granger who informed him that Dolores was not allowing them to use their wands in the classroom, insisting that enough education on theory would allow them to utilize the spells ‘when needed’.

Severus assured Granger that it was likely only due to Dolores’ inability to cast the spells herself, as she had always been a brainless idiot. He also found himself agreeing to critique Granger’s spell work if needed- an offer that had slipped off his tongue too easily.

Apparently, sharing a breakfast table with someone for the past couple of summers had made Severus soft towards Granger. An entirely irritating concept.

“As well as can be expected,” Dolores smiled, a pointed thing that was disturbing to witness. “There are quite a few things that I’ve written to Cornelius about of course, he likes to be informed of the many ways that the children’s educational experience can be improved.”

“Does he?” Minerva murmured, her eyes flinty as she stared a hole in the side of Dolores’ head. Not that Dolores seemed to take notice, as she was having a silent stare off with Albus. Albus was frowning bemusedly and Dolores was still smiling.

“He also shared a concern of my own- what have you done to protect the students from the Dark Lord Crouch?”

The muted whispers went silent as the other professors all zeroed in on Dolores and Albus. Severus took a hasty sip of his tea, unwilling to allow his lips to so much as tremble at the ridiculous moniker.

“I do not believe that Barty Crouch is a threat to our students,” Albus said politely. “I also do not believe that Voldemort will attempt to harm any students while they are here under my protection. Though I have strengthened the wards surrounding Hogwarts so he doesn’t get an opportunity.”

“It would be hard for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to harm anyone considering he’s dead,” Dolores said sweetly. “And I’m afraid that the Minister agrees with me; as, uh, impressive as your magic once was, it clearly was not enough to prevent numerous attacks on the students in prior years.”

Minerva sucked in a shocked breath, outraged that Dolores would insult Albus in such a way. Filius looked as if he shared the same sentiment as Severus, this was entirely worth losing an hour or so of his free time. Albus was so rarely challenged in public, it was refreshing.

Invigorating really.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean Dolores,” Albus said calmly. “There have been no numerous attacks during my tenure as Headmaster.”

Dolores’ smile grew at that, as if hoping for that precise response. She dug in frilly pink handbag on her lap and pulled a parchment out with a victorious smile.

”Ahem, four years ago there was a professor killed on these grounds while he attempted to steal the philosophers stone-“

Potter, of course.

“Then basilisk attacks on multiple and the death of another professor-“

Also Potter.

“Sirius Black was hiding on the grounds for months before he turned himself in. Peter Pettigrew also lived within this castle for years before that-“

Not Potter directly, but certainly still his fault.

“Then last year, a professor was disguised as a questionable new hire, a student was kidnapped by a madman, and it was only thanks to Severus here-“

Dear Merlin- had she just batted her eyelashes at Severus?

Still Potters fault somehow.

“-that the student wasn’t killed. Did I forget anything?” Dolores folded the parchment and tucked it back in her handbag. Severus had only a small glimpse at the writing that made that list, but Susan Bone’s elegant script was hard to miss.

She forgot the death of Crouch Senior, but Severus would hardly bring that up as it was, once again, entirely Potters fault.

Albus at least had the grace to look slightly abashed, though Severus didn’t miss the hard look in his blue eyes when he flashed them momentarily in Severus’ direction.

Albus too must have kept track of who was to blame behind each of those problems.

“Those were terrible mistakes that have long since been rectified,” Albus said coolly. “Aside from May, of course, when Voldemort-“

“But you do admit they were mistakes?” Dolores cut Albus off and leaned forward with a nasty look in her eyes.

“I believe he just said that,” Minerva scoffed. “Perhaps you should clear your ears Dolores.”

Dolores brushed Minerva’s comment off with a simpering little giggle. “Well, since we can all agree that mistakes have been made, you can surely see why the Minister is increasing the protection of the students.”

“How so?” Albus asked, his left hand tense as if the typically impassive man was fighting the urge to curse Dolores like an impulsive teenager.

“The Minister has personally assigned aurors to reside in Hogsmeade and patrol Hogwarts periodically.”

“Oh.” Albus relaxed at once, a true smile returning to his face. “What a delightful idea!” he said genuinely. “And which aurors will be patrolling?”

Dear Lord, please not-

“Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt volunteered for the position.”

The auror in the Order who believes Potter to a killer, and the auror who had the audacity (and bravery, he could admit) to foolishly ask Severus out on a date.

Severus almost couldn’t decide which was a worse choice- but then he realized Dolores said ‘volunteered’ and decided that Nymphadora was the worst of the two.

He was too civilized to hit his head on the stone wall behind him, but only by just. Severus must have made some type of face though, because Minerva raised a brow at him and he mimed pouring a drink.

A drink that Merlin himself knows Severus needs.

‘Tomorrow?’ Minerva mouthed.

Severus nodded.

It was easy to be something like friends with Minerva. Minerva brought alcohol, they gossiped, occasionally played chess, they discussed their miserable careers, and they went back to work the next morning with hangover potions that Severus brewed.

Easy.

“Excellent!” Albus’ smile grew and the twinkle returned to his eyes. He undoubtedly believed that having more ‘Order members’ inside the castle would somehow behoove him. “When will they begin?”

Dolores looked put out by Albus’ earnest cheer. “Immediately,” she said curtly. “The Minister already established them housing in Hogsmeade until Crouch Junior is apprehended.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Filius piped up. “We can’t have too much protection when it comes to the children, can we?”

The other teachers murmured their agreement. Only Severus was carefully considering how little protection the castle used to require before Potter’s arrival.

Sometimes he fondly remembers the days that an exploded cauldron was the worst of his problems. But then he considers Potter’s bashful joy when Severus informed him that he had legally named him his ward and decides that the chaos is well worth it.

Usually.

“They’re trying to kill me Minerva,” Severus groaned Saturday night. He graciously accepted the refilled glass of whisky she slid him. “I do not believe I am meant to survive the next two years.”

“Two and a half,” Minerva corrected him with an amused smile. A very unappreciated amused smile. “Is it truly so bad Severus?”

Severus looked up sharply from his uncharacteristically slumped position on his sofa. “I had to assign Potter, Bones, Nott, Granger, and Frederick Weasley detention at three o’clock this morning Minerva. Three o’clock in the morning. And do you know who alerted me to their presence outside on the grounds? Auror Nymphadora Tonks.”

Minerva’s smile only grew at that. “Why was I not informed before now of one of my lions being out of bounds?”

“I had it handled,” Severus scowled. “I assumed you would rather sleep than deal with a dispute caused by, isn’t this surprising? Bloody Potter.”

Minerva laughed, “What excuse did they offer? I was under the impression that Harry and Fred were still on the outs.”

“They are,” Severus rolled his eyes, comfortable enough with Minerva that he didn’t feel the need to keep up his usual facade. “From what I could gather, reading between the lines of their blatant lies, was that Miss Bones was attempting to force Potter and Weasley to talk to one another, and decided that the middle of the night was the most inconspicuous time to do so.”

“And Theodore and Hermione went along as well?”

“They did not,” Severus looked up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “They were caught exiting a broom closet when I returned the others to their dorms.”

And Minerva, the prudish old witch that she shows to the rest of the castle, laughed until Severus saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“They’re- they’re- terrible,” Minerva said. She took a few steadying breaths and attempted a more stern expression. She failed, but it was a rather noble attempt. “How do you survive the summers Severus?”

“Sheer determination,” Severus said both sardonically and entirely truthfully.

“I have no idea why Albus chose Bones, Potter, and Granger for prefect positions. They only memorized the rules so they can quote them to us when they’re caught breaking them,” Minerva said.

“That is precisely why Nott got an extra detention,” Severus told her. He finished off his drink and summoned the bottle. “He informed me that Potter and Bones were not technically breaking the rules, as there is no curfew for prefects.”

“He is not incorrect,” Minerva said carefully. “Were they behaving unruly when Nymphadora fetched you?”

“Potter and Bones were having an extraordinary screaming match, which is what I technically assigned detention for,” Severus said drily. “Weasley was slumped on the ground looking like a kicked crup as he plucked up handfuls of grass.”

“Oh Fred,” Minerva sighed sadly. “I admit I didn’t care for the two of them together at first, I was afraid of the repercussions for the rest of the castle. But I thought they seemed happy together, certainly Harry seemed more relaxed around Fred and Fred was a touch more mature thanks to Harry. I was beginning to believe that they would last. Harry really won’t tell you why they broke up?”

“He won’t,” Severus sighed. He rubbed his eyes wearily, the conversation and the alcohol beginning to wear him down. “I believe Bones knows, but God knows that girl will never betray Potter’s confidence. I told Potter perhaps he should move on, find someone else, but I think he still cares for Weasley in some way.”

“Pity. I hope they can figure it out.” Minerva shook her head and poured them both another drink. “Last one then?”

“Last one,” Severus agreed, accepting the last cup out of the bottle Minerva supplied gratefully. They both examined the chessboard that was abandoned around the second drink and made a few half-hearted moves.

“Why you?”

“Pardon?”

Minerva cleared her throat and her eyes had an almost Albus like twinkle in them. “Why did Tonks summon you as opposed to myself or Pomona when she discovered the students?”

Severus hastily moved his eyes back to the chessboard, a futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. “I did not ask.”

Though he was quite certain it had something to do with the offer of drinks that Nymphadora brought up. An offer he immediately turned down with as much firm force as he could muster in the face of his surprise. The last thing Severus needed was a further entanglement with the aurors department. Particularly not when his ward was Harry Potter, the youngest serial killer in Britain with plans of taking over the Ministry.

Minerva hummed thoughtfully and used her knight to capture Severus’ queen. “Perhaps it may be time you take your own advice Severus.”

“What advice is that?”

Minerva waited until Severus looked up, holding his gaze with her kind maternal smile.

“Move on,” she said gently. “Find someone else.”

Severus, no doubt due to the excess amount of alcohol he consumed, thought of Minerva’s words once he was alone once more.

Moving on was fine for young men such as Potter. Potter was hardly a poison to those he cared for. Potter was not required to live the rest of his life atoning for his sins. Potter had not singlehandedly caused the death of someone he loved, an unrequited love certainly, but that didn’t lessen the hold on Severus it had. Severus looked at the photo of Lily that Potter gifted him in his first year and felt a swell of emotion.

Minerva could say what she wished about Severus taking his own advice, but if Severus had managed to end the life of such a pure and unique soul as Lily Evans, he hardly needed to inflict himself upon others.

Potter though...

Severus scribbled a hasty letter to Lupin, reminding the man of his duty to Potter before he drifted off in a fitful sleep.

One that was, thankfully, not interrupted by his erratic ward or an overly flirtatious and misguided auror.

Chapter Text

Ron stood in the middle of the quidditch pitch, his broom clutched tightly, with a determined set to his broadening shoulders.

It didn’t matter that there were at least thirty people here to tryout, most of Slytherin house honestly. He’d been training for this since third year. This was finally his chance to play quidditch with his friends for his house and he didn’t plan on mucking it up.

“Good luck Ron,” Draco murmured before rushing off to his spot beside Harry. Harry stood in front of the crowd, a look of complete boredom on his face if you didn’t notice the manic gleam in his eyes. He had his Firebolt casually propped up against his shoulder and he and Draco immediately began whispering quickly.

“Hey! Listen up!” Harry finally yelled. “Are all of you from Slytherin? Cause I don’t think we even have this many fuckin students.”

Ron glanced around when he heard a few snorting giggles and four younger girls went sprinting off the field.

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he pulled his wand out. “I’m going to say this one time then I’m sending out curses- if you are not in Slytherin and at least a second year, piss off now, yeah?” He twirled his wand and scowled as four more students left the crowd.

“Alright, shut your mouth and listen!” Harry yelled, which he didn’t really need to since everyone was hanging on his every word. Which, Ron noticed, people tended to do when Harry was the one talking.

Sometimes Ron thought it might be easy to hate Harry. On the surface, he had it all. He was prefect, quidditch captain, and a great flier. He had a ton of friends, a guardian who was always looking out for him, a godfather who bragged about him all summer long when he’d show up at Grimmauld Place. He already knew what he wanted to do with his life, and would probably achieve every goal he had. The teachers all loved him, he was near the top of their year, and was easily the most popular guy in Hogwarts. Plus, here lately he’s even had loads of students following him around and giggling when they looked at him.

Nobody ever looked at Ron and giggled.

But then Ron remembered how Harry saved his sisters life even though he clearly didn’t like her. And when Scabbers turned out to be a scummy death eater, what did Harry do? Took him to buy an owl just to cheer him up. He remembered how Harry asked for enough tickets to take their entire gang to the Quidditch Cup. And how Harry asked him to stand guard when he’d went in the Black Lake in fourth year to decipher his clue. Mostly though, he remembered how Harry told Ron that he wasn’t worthless and he was one of his best friends.

So Ron loved Harry because Harry might have a lot going for him, enough reason for anyone to be jealous, but Harry didn’t care about his fan club, he just cared about his friends.

If Harry had red hair, and hadn’t been dating Fred for a year and a half, Ron would even forget that they weren’t actual brothers.

And now he would make the team and help Harry get drafted to a professional team by the end of this year. He straightened himself up and squared his shoulders as he listened to Harry’s speech.

“Most of our team graduated,” Harry said. “I’m seeker, Draco’s chaser-“

“He doesn’t have to try out?” Someone sneered.

“You’re out,” Harry said calmly. He waited until the fuming student stormed off before he continued. “So we need two chasers, two beaters, and a keeper. Draco and I could probably win the cup by ourselves, but Snape says we aren’t allowed.” Harry smirked when a bunch of the students in the crowd, and the ones sitting on the bleachers and shamelessly gazing at Harry, giggled.

Which was daft because Harry wasn’t joking. Ron knew that Harry asked Snape what the minimum number of players for a team was.

“So here’s how this is going to work: you lot are gonna get in groups by the position you want. Chasers over there, beaters over there, and keepers here. NOW!”

Draco snickered and grinned at Ron when the rest of the students actually jumped and ran to the areas Harry pointed out. Ron tried to move quickly without actually running like some of these prats were doing.

“They’re embarrassing themselves,” Ron murmured to the bloke beside him. He looked at over at them and barely held in a startled laugh at what they were wearing. The guy had on a green cap, a long knitted scarf wrapped around his face, and a pair of quidditch goggles already on his face. “If you aren’t in Slytherin Harry really will curse you,” he said, guessing they were probably hiding their identity to stick around longer. But when they didn’t respond, Ron just shrugged. No skin of his back. He looked around at his other competition and bit back a groan to see that the chasers were the biggest group. There looked to be an even dozen of them, and four of them had to be sixth and seventh years. Of course, Harry’s number one fan, the scrawny second year Trent Bailey, was in the group of chasers. Which was mad, because he looked stubbornly determined even though he wasn’t even holding a broom.

Ron just mentally shrugged again, still not his problem he supposed.

Harry quickly counted up the groups of students, five keepers, seven beaters, and an even dozen chasers.

“You, you, and you-“ Harry pointed at two beaters and one keeper, “you’re out.”

“What?” The keeper glared at Harry. “Why??”

“I don’t like you, do I?” Harry said lightly. “And I’m not havin’ anyone on my team that I don’t like.”

“That’s bull!” The keeper threw his broomstick to the ground. “You don’t even know me!”

Everyone went dead silent as Harry slowly stepped up to him, his wand continuously twirling in his hand.

“He’s going to be pissed,” Ron whispered to the bloke in the scarves next to him.

The two beaters immediately scampered off the field, not wanting to be the next focus of Harry’s undivided attention.

“Fourth year, Kilduff, yeah?” Harry asked softly.

Which was actually Harry’s most deadly voice. Something Ron thought he got from Snape.

“Yeah.” Kilduff said, his voice only shaking a little as Harry was now in his face.

“You remember your first year? You pushed a girl with brown hair on the stairs, called her a ‘nasty mudblood’?”

Ron and Draco caught each other’s eyes at that. If Harry went out of his way to actually remember someone’s name, then there was only one brunette muggleborn that Kilduff could have said that to.

“I- uh- I don’t know-“ Kilduff stammered.

“Well I do,” Harry smiled sharply. “And that ‘mudblood’ is my best friend. So fuck off before I show everyone what your blood looks like when it’s mixed in with the dirt.”

Ron thought that Kilduff might have been able to leave the field peacefully as quickly as he started moving, if it weren’t for a muttered comment he made as he went. Ron couldn’t hear the exact words, but it was obviously an insult of some type.

“Whoops.” A lot of people laughed when Harry levitated a bludger to slam straight to the back of Kilduff’s head with just a twitch of his pinky.

“Anyone else have anything to say?” Harry asked. “No? Brill. Then I want everyone to take a lap around the field. Keepers first.”

The four remaining keepers kicked off immediately and began shooting around the pitch, a couple of them weren’t bad, but one of them looked like he’d never flown a day in his life.

“You’re out,” Harry told the one bloke as soon as they landed. “Beaters next.”

Draco whispered something to Harry and pointed at a few of the beaters as they flew, whatever he said Harry agreed with because he nodded.

“You, you, and you-“ Harry pointed out three of them, “stay.” The other two scowled, but left the field and went to join the continuously growing crowds on the bleachers.

Ron pushed down his nerves at the sight. He really didn’t want to get up in the air and choke, embarrassing himself in front of all those people.

“Chasers now,” Harry called.

Ron hesitated on the ground, curious what Bailey was going to do without a broom.

“Excuse me Harry,” Bailey said politely despite his red cheeks. “I- I don’t own a broom.”

More than one person snickered, someone even called Bailey an idiot.

“You’re out,” Harry casually told the student who called Bailey an idiot. “And here-“

To everyone’s shock, Harry floated his own broom over to Bailey.

Bailey’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head as he looked down at the Firebolt. “I can use yours?” he whispered reverently.

“Don’t fuckin wreck it,” Harry drawled, not unkindly. “And get in the air.”

“Yes sir,” Bailey saluted Harry and shot off in the air. Ron shook his head at Draco before he and the bloke with the scarves followed.

Harry picked the oddest people to be nice to.

Ron tried to use the trick that Draco taught him while he flew. He cleared his mind and focused only on the space in front of him. He couldn’t hear what seemed like most of the school in the stands, he couldn’t see his competition. It was just Ron and the whistling wind in his hair and the scent of the nearby forest.

By the time he’d finished the lap and landed back on the ground, he was beaming.

He was the fourth one to hit the ground, and his Nimbus 190 wasn’t even the fanciest broom in his group.

Draco gave him a thumbs up and a lot of Ron’s nerves disappeared. Draco was Ron’s best friend, and he was an overly honest prat with just as little tact as Ron sometimes had, he wouldn’t encourage Ron to tryout if he thought it wouldn’t work.

When the others landed, Harry eliminated five of them. Not only did he keep the scrawny little Bailey, but he also told him to hold on to his broom until tryouts were finished.

Probably a bad idea, considering how Bailey looked like he was going to faint with happiness.

Harry considered the four keepers, three beaters, and four chasers.

“You lot-“ Harry pointed out the beaters, “-grab a bat and a bludger.”

“But there’s only two bats?” One of the boys said.

“Then run,” Draco drawled.

“Draco get up there with them,” Harry said coolly. “First two to hit Draco with a bludger are on the team.”

Draco gaped at Harry, but Harry just cocked his head at him and smiled politely until Draco huffed and shot up in the air.

“Is this a trick?” One of them asked slowly. “You really want us to purposefully hit your friend with a bludger?”

“If you want on the team,” Harry said. “MOVE!”

Ron carefully stepped over by Harry, curious why Draco was so obviously being punished.

“What’d he do now?” he murmured.

“Called me a jealous prat in front of Snape.”

Yeah, that would do it. Ron knew Harry seemed better about Draco and Luna courting, which was just pureblood bullshit for dating, but Harry also never forgave insults without revenge.

Which was why Ron was always very carefully to never insult him. Not even to the others when Harry wasn’t around.

The rest of the hopefuls watched as the beaters tried to land a hit on Draco. A hard task, Ron knew good and well from how much they flew together, that it took a good twenty minutes before one of them did.

“You!” Harry blew his whistle and pointed at the bloke who just hit Draco. “Land!”

The boy landed and looked nervous, as if worried that this would end up being a trick after all.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked.

“Isaac Bradford,” he said. “I’m in third year... I signed on to be your ally on the first night.”

“‘Kay, Bradford, you’re in. Wait off to the side, got it?”

Bradford saluted Harry, apparently taking the cue from Baileys earlier salute, and sprinted off to the side of the field.

“One spot left!” Harry shouted. “Hurry up!”

The two hopefuls in the air stepped up their attempts to hit Draco, and Ron thought Draco was proving why he didn’t need to re-tryout by now quickly and effortlessly he dodged the bludgers.

“DONE!” Harry blew his whistle when one of the students finally hit Draco with the bludger, whooping loudly even though Ron was pretty sure he’d just broken Draco’s arm.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked the kid, ignoring Draco’s wince of pain when he landed.

“Declan Oscar, third year.”

“Over there-“ Harry pointed at where Bradford was.

“C’mere Dray.” Draco stepped over by Harry, cradling his broken arm with as much silent dignity as he could. “Heal,” Harry murmured, putting his hand right on the swollen break.

Harry tilted his head down to Draco and whispered something the rest of them couldn’t hear, but Ron had a decent guess at what it was since Draco paled a few shades as he nodded.

“Alright, you lot,” Harry turned away from Draco and faced the four keepers and studied them from head to toe. “You two get up in the goals. If you let three quaffles in then just dismiss yourself, yeah?” The two boys nodded and went straight to the goals. “And you two, if they let in three goals then replace them and same rules.”

Ron clutched his broom tightly, this was his chance. His opportunity to be on the team with his best mates and win the house cup. A chance to finally earn a bit of glory on his own merit.

“You guys get up there,” Harry told the chaser group. “First two to score five goals are on the team.” He gave Ron a small nod, a nod that nobody else got.

Ron summoned a quaffle as he flew up in the air, desperately wanting to be the first to score the five goals.

“COME ON RON!”

Ron grinned like a loon when he heard his friends cheering for him. He used their cheers to motivate him as he scored his first two goals before the other players had even scored one. The scarf-bloke was the next to score, and Ron could admit that he was a good flier, quick and not afraid to take risks.

But nobody wanted it as bad as Ron did.

He scored another goal, on the opposite end this time, and it must have been that kids third goal because he let out an irritated growl before landing and having one of the other keepers replace him.

“BAILEY! LAND!” Harry yelled.

Ron only had a second to give Bailey, who really wasn’t a bad flier himself, a sympathetic look before he scored his fourth goal.

One more and he was on the team.

Ron ducked and darted around as quick as he could until he stole the quaffle from the third chaser and scored his fifth goal.

“RON! LAND!”

Ron was on cloud nine when Harry clapped his shoulder briefly with a murmured congrats and their friends all cheered and whistled from the stands.

He’d done it.

He waited with the other teammates, curious about little Bailey still lingering around them, and watched as the last two keepers and chasers fought for the final two positions. Ron kept up his ‘happy but not too happy because he totally knew this would happen’ face, but he was doing a mad little dance on the inside.

He did it.

It took another thirty minutes where Harry and Draco whispered quickly to one another before Harry finally blew his whistle and landed the lone keeper and the two chasers.

“You’re out,” he told one of the chasers, keeping the bloke in the scarves. Harry looked toward the keeper, a smart mouth git that Ron always heard bragging about ‘important people he knew’. “What’s your name?” Harry asked him, making Draco and Ron grin at the blokes obvious annoyance that Harry didn’t already know it.

“King,” the keeper said pompously. “Reynold King, sixth year. You can call me Ryan though.”

“‘Kay, King, you’re in. And yours?” Harry smirked at the bloke in the scarves, as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t.

But Ron forgot all about Harry’s smirk when the ‘bloke’ took the cap, scarf, and goggles off and Daphne Greengrass appeared from beneath them.

“Daphne,” she smiled.

And, Merlin, it was like the sun chose that exact moment to bounce off her smile and send sparkles directly in Ron’s eyes.

If he’d thought Hermione was cute, and Fleur was gorgeous, it was nothing to how Daphne looked in her quidditch gear, holding her broom and smiling in the middle of the field.

”I told you I wouldn’t have cared if you’re a girl,” Harry said, apparently continuing some conversation the rest of them were unaware of. “You didn’t have to come in a disguise. You’re a good flier.”

”I didn’t want to take any risks,” Daphne smiled. “It’s been over twenty years since Slytherin had a female player.”

”Well you’re in,” Harry said. “Get in line.”

“Alright, gather up guys!” Harry blew his whistle again and everyone circled around him.

It took Ron a split-second to remember to move, but then he shook off his thoughts of this girl with pretty pink lips and long shining blonde hair and joined his new team.

“Here’s the lineup- I’m captain and seeker. Draco, Ron, and Daphne are chasers. King is keeper. Bradford and Oscar are beaters. Bailey is reserve seeker-“

“Reserve seeker?” King interrupted curiously. “I didn’t know it was a spot?”

“I made it a spot,” Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then if one of you can’t play, I can take your spot and Bailey can take mine.”

“Genius,” Oscar breathed.

“I know,” Harry smirked. He scribbled something on his parchment then seemed to look between Ron and Draco quickly. “And Ron the vice-captain. If I can’t make it to practice then he’s in charge, yeah?”

Ron’s jaw dropped when the others all looked at him.

“Me?” he breathed. “But-“ he glanced hesitantly towards Draco. Ron wanted to be vice-captain more than anything, but Draco was his best mate. “Draco’s been on the team longer?”

“And you’re better with team strategies,” Harry said easily. “Unless you don’t want it?”

“I do,” Ron said hastily. He sent Draco an apologetic look, but Draco didn’t look phased in the slightest. He just smiled at Ron in a good-natured way that Ron wasn’t sure he would have been able to do if he was in Draco’s spot.

“‘Kay. Practice is every Tuesday and Thursday at four thirty, Sundays at six. Don’t be late,” Harry said sternly. “I’m not losing a single game this year. If you can’t keep up, you’re out.”

“Yes sir!” Bailey saluted, triggering the rest of them to salute Harry.

“Oh, damn, hey I almost forgot.” Harry’s smirk grew as he surveyed his team. “My godfather said he’d buy our team new brooms this year, so everyone’s playing our first game on Firebolt 100’s.”

Ron walked back to the castle with his friends in a complete daze.

“Am I dreaming?” he asked aloud, intending the question for Draco or Blaise.

But it was Daphne who winked at him when she answered in their stead. “If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming.” She let out a small giggle as she ran off to catch up with her friends, “Later, Weasley.”

By the time Ron made it to lunch, he decided that he was definitely dreaming.

He never wanted to wake up.

Chapter Text

Dear Harry,
AKA the snake prefect,
Would you like to come to lunch with us on your Hogsmeade weekend in October?
Rems being polite. He meant to say: hey kid, come get lunch with your favorite godfather.
You are his only godfather.
Exactly.
Anyway! Let us know if you’re free and how your classes are going.
I heard Umbridge is a right twat.
Very mature Padfoot. Excellent example to set for your godson.
Hey! Harry teaches me more curses than I have him!
See you soon, hopefully.
-Remus & Sirius

Harry knew that this was OWL’s year and his classmates were stressed about the increased workload, and the extra essays were bloody exhausting. He knew that Dumbledore was plotting ways to use Harry to kill Voldemort for him. And he knew that Timmy was back and was constantly trying to break in to his head- an incredibly annoying sensation that gave him a slight headache each time. But honestly?

Harry actually thought this might be the best year ever.

There wasn’t a tournament to be won, and every time he saw Fred it set off a painful constriction in his chest, but he compensated by avoiding Fred and finding other things to do.

Things like quidditch practice, with and without his team. He had talked with Viktor after he setup the spots for his team and asked for advice on how to convince recruiters for professional teams to come to his games this year.

‘You are Harry Potter. Sign your name clearly’ was the advice he got.

Which is exactly what he did.

Technically, Susan wrote the letters (having a much more professional way of writing) and Harry just signed his name and sent them off with Sevvie. So he had a small bit of hope that at least one team recruiter would be curious enough to show up. If Viktor could go pro at sixteen, Harry wanted to do it at fifteen.

Harry also spent a lot of his time showcasing duels to the other Slytherins who came to him once they realized Umbridge wasn’t willing (or, according to Snape and Hermione, capable) to show them the spellwork in class. He really didn’t see the fuss everyone made over it, if you understood the theory then you should be able to do the spell. And even if you didn’t, you just needed to focus hard and pull on your core.

Magic was so easy, it was everyone else who was making it hard.

Plus, Harry liked having two extra classes every week where he could just work on his essays for other classes. Ron had given him ‘a look’ when Harry pulled his transfiguration text out during Umbridge’s second class, but Umbridge didn’t even comment on it.

She was just another suck up, always mentioning how great it would be if Harry would tell Fudge about how good of a teacher she was. He always hummed noncommittally at that, he wouldn’t do it for free and so far there wasn’t anything Umbridge could offer him.

Harry did refuse to help any student struggling in Umbridge’s class who hadn’t sworn themselves to his side though. It would be stupid to help make a potential enemy even better at magic. But the ones who did approach him for alliances he helped.

Blaise had teased him, calling him the future Snape, but if these were people in his gang, people who were going to fight with him, why wouldn’t he make them better at it?

Blaise hadn’t had a response when he said just that.

So, all in all, Harry was having a great year so far.

Even the Draco and Luna thing wasn’t bothering him as much ever since Neville and Theo talked to him about it.

’You are allowed to be jealous, but you are not allowed to treat Draco like dirt just because he’s in a new relationship,’ Theo said firmly.

‘And if he hurts Luna?’ Harry asked coolly.

‘Think about that Harry, do you honestly, honestly, think Draco is brave enough to hurt Luna when he knows she’s so important to you and Susan?’ Neville smirked. ‘He’s not exactly full of daring nerve, is he?’

Which, was fair enough. Because Harry had made it real clear to Draco that he would beat him to death with his bare hands if he hurt Luna. He liked Draco, he was one of Harry’s best friends, but Luna was... Luna.

And Luna had already been tossed in the bottom of a lake once, he wasn’t going to sit around and give anyone else an opportunity to hurt her.

And now, they were only a week away from their first Hogsmeade weekend, two weeks from their first game, and Harry was entirely content.

He walked down to breakfast with Ron and Draco, discussing the lineups for the other school quidditch teams (apparently Ginny was the Gryffindor seeker, which had made Harry laugh a bit rudely). They were still debating on who the new Hufflepuff seeker would be since Diggory graduated last year when they realized the buzz of frantic whispers filling the Great Hall.

“What’d we miss?” Harry asked Susan, sliding in to his seat.

Theo was the one who answered him. He handed over his paper and needlessly pointed at the headline. “Umbridge’s promotion was announced.”

HOGWARTS HIGH INQUISITOR INSTATED!

Harry scoffed at the paper, then immediately sent a polite nod up at the Head Table to Umbridge. If she thought they were allies working towards a common goal, then all the better for Harry. He had known she was getting the position, she told him after their last class, it was just a power move so she could make rules that Dumbledore couldn’t override.

“Oh he’s fuckin mad, isn’t he?” Harry murmured to his friends, grinning slyly at Dumbledore’s lack of usual cheer.

Susan was beaming outright and even laughed when she saw Dumbledore’s cool look every time he glanced at his paper. “It doesn’t help that on page two it announces he was asked to step down as the Supreme Mugwump.”

“Was he really?” Harry was now smiling almost as brightly as Susan.

“Good riddance,” Draco muttered darkly.

”I wish it wasn’t at the expense of our education,” Hermione said. “Umbridge is a foul teacher. If it weren’t for your meetings Harry I think everyone would fail their exams.”

“Hey, speaking of that- Harry, are you letting other people from other houses come practice defense, or just us and the Slytherins?” Neville cut in abruptly.

Harry tilted his head at Neville and raised one brow quizzically. “Who wants to join?”

“Everyone,” Neville deadpanned. “Well, not the ones in the other club, but a good portion of others asked me about it. I guess they heard from-“

“Wait- what club?”

Luna shook her head at Theo’s question and tsk’d a little. “A bunch of the other students started a defense group. Everyone knows that,” she said airily.

Harry felt better when he and his friends all exchanged looks, it actually seemed like none of them besides Neville and Luna knew that at all.

“We aren’t a club though,” Harry pointed out. “And I don’t like ‘everyone’.”

“We could be!” Hermione sat up eagerly. “We just need permission from a Head of House-“

“Which will be terribly difficult to get,” Blaise smirked.

“-and then we could post signups! And make lesson plans! And rules!!” Hermione looked like a crazy person as she immediately started digging parchment out of her bag.

“It would be a good way to recruit students from other houses,” Ron mused. “Offer alliances to the ones who seem decent at it.”

Harry would have said no, he really had no interest in making his little weekly showcasing in the Slytherin common room public, but then Luna had to go and guilt trip him with her wistful comment.

“I’ve always wanted to be in a real club.”

Which is how Harry found himself standing outside Snape’s office immediately after breakfast the next morning. Draco had wanted to go get permission right away, but Hermione and Theo thought that Snape would be more likely to approve it if they came up with an actual ‘proposal’ for the club. Not that that meant they were going to be the ones to ask though, they all told Harry that he should be the one to do it.

“He’ll never tell you no,” Ron said.

Harry sometimes thought people got the wrong idea about Snape. He had loads of rules that Harry wasn’t allowed to break, and he said no about a lot of things.

‘Don’t go in the chamber of secrets without a professor’.

‘Eat your meals every day’.

‘Don’t follow me in to a fight with death eaters’.

‘No you can’t enter the Triwizard tournament’.

‘No you can’t skip your potion just because you miss the feeling of manic episodes’.

Harry honestly thought Snape was pretty strict.

“Sev,” Harry grinned cheekily when Snape opened the door. “We have a favor to ask you.”

Snape slowly looked over the excited expressions on Harry’s friends’ faces. “No.”

Harry didn’t want to say ‘told you so’ but he went ahead and muttered it anyway.

“But you didn’t even hear what the favor is?” Hermione pointed out.

Snape actually looked like he was going to shut the door right in their faces. Susan must have thought so too, because she hastily stuck her foot in the doorway.

“We want to start a defense club,” she said. “And we just need your permission to do it.”

“A club?” Snape raised both his brows at Susan. “You expect me to believe that you came here to get permission to start a school club?”

“Why’s that so hard to believe sir?” Neville asked.

Snape didn’t even answer, his brows just somehow managed to go higher.

“We think it would be a good way to help students in other houses practice defensive magic,” Hermione said.

Which was kind of a lie. Harry was doing this for three reasons:

1. Because Luna wants to be in a club.

2. It would be easy to add more people to the gang this way. And Harry personally thought it would be hilarious if he was able to recruit enough students to just shock the hell out of Dumbledore when he finally realized it.

3. It sounded like a good way to show off his magic and keep people from attacking him. Not that anyone had really, not since his second year, but it never hurt to remind people that Harry wasn’t weak.

None of them were just to help others. But Hermione’s explanation sounded better for the ‘proposal’.

“Harry’s already teaching most of Slytherin. And we made rules! So rule one would be-“

“I am no longer saying no. I am now saying that I cannot grant this request, but I will point you in the general direction if you will not read me a list of rules and leave me alone for the rest of the weekend,” Snape sighed.

“And that direction is...?” Susan smiled.

“Dolores has already established a dozen new policies as her new position allows her to. One that will be announced this week is that all clubs, teams, and study groups consisting of four of more people have to be approved by her,” Snape said. “I apologize Harry, you will need her permission.”

“Brill,” Harry shrugged. “I’ll just go ask her then.”

“You believe she will approve it?” Snape asked.

“She will if she wants me to tell Fudge what a great job she’s doing,” Harry said.

It seemed like Umbridge finally had something Harry wanted from her.

“Excellent. Then you may ask her to allow the Slytherin team to continue playing as well.” Snape kicked Susan’s foot out of the doorway and closed the door with a curt slam that made Harry and his friends laugh.

Yeah, Snape was strict. And he was a bastard sometimes. But Harry never failed to find it hilarious how much he pretended to not like people.

Harry and the others were halfway to the defense corridor when it seemed as if Ron, Draco, and himself all stopped short with the same sudden, horrifying, thought.

“Did- did he say Slytherin team?” Ron stammered.

“As in quidditch?!” Draco’s voice was high-pitched.

They both looked at Harry with identical looks of horror that he was undoubtedly wearing as well.

“If she doesn’t approve it, I’ll kill her, yeah?” he reassured them, thinking quickly. “Snape can’t be mad about that. He’ll see that it was an emergency.”

“Quidditch is not an emergency excuse to kill someone,” Hermione said firmly.

“Can I do it?” Susan asked brightly. “So when Auntie comes to investigate she either has to drop the case or arrest me.”

Harry started walking with newfound purpose once more and carefully put his arm over Susan’s shoulders. “I’d never let them arrest you.”

And he wouldn’t. But he also would never let Umbridge refuse to allow all the houses to play quidditch either. What good would it be for Harry’s team to get permission if they didn’t have any competition?

And he’d already sent out letters with the date of the upcoming Slytherin vs Gryffindor game. He’d look like a prat if it got cancelled.

It was while planning a quick way to kill Umbridge if she refused that was on his mind as he rapped politely on her office door.

“Come in!”

Fuck. Harry hated her voice. It was so... so fake.

But two could play that game.

“Good morning Professor Umbridge.” Harry smiled charmingly as he and his friends entered the most disgusting looking office he’d ever seen. There were just kittens... kittens everywhere. Kittens painted on plates and on canvases. Photos of kittens. Kitten stuffed animals on the shelves.

It reminded Harry of the crazy lady that once threw a fit outside of a shelter because the staff wouldn’t let her bring her shopping cart full of cats inside.

“Good morning Mister Potter.” Umbridge smiled while her beady eyes glanced at the group of students. “What brings you here today?”

Hermione didn’t say anything, so Harry assumed this was another thing he had to do himself.

He’d remind them of this next time they complained that he didn’t rely on them often enough.

“I have two favors actually,” Harry said. “I heard about the new policies you’re putting in effect-“

“From Severus no doubt.”

Harry didn’t think he really liked the way she said Snape’s name.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said politely. “And we both agreed that it’s great how many changes you and Cornelius are making around here.”

It didn’t hurt to remind her that he was on a friendly first name basis with the Minister. It was a neat trick that Draco’s dad taught him.

“So I was hoping that you would give the quidditch teams permission to play, and that you would approve a new club that we-“ Harry gestured to his friends, “-would like to start.”

“Is that so?” Umbridge’s smile stretched until it was clear across her face.

“And I’d be sure to mention to Cornelius what a great job you’re doing and how you did me such a big favor,” Harry said casually with a half-smile.

“Well.” Umbridge patted down her greying curls and batted her eyelashes. “What kind of club are you starting Harry?”

If Harry didn’t like how she said Snape’s name, he really didn’t like how she said his. It made his skin crawl and the air stick in his throat. He quickly stuck his hands in his pockets and held tightly to his pocketknife. He rubbed the handle with his thumb while he glanced subtly at Susan.

Handle this, please, he mentally begged.

He’d never beg aloud, but he really hoped Susan knew what he was thinking.

And, as usual, she did.

“It’s a defense club ma’am,” Susan said in her innocent student voice. “We thought it might help some of the... less studious,” she smirked, “students to get extra help outside of your class.”

“Which would increase the overall grades of the defense classes,” Theo said.

“And reflect back on the defense teacher of course,” Draco added.

“Of course,” Umbridge simpered. She was still batting her lashes at Harry and he thought maybe he’d be sick.

“So you’ll approve it?” Susan glanced at her wristwatch and raised her brows at Harry. “I bet we’d have time to floo Minister Fudge before he gets too terribly busy if we hurry.”

If Umbridge hadn’t been sold just yet, she certainly was when Blaise spoke up. “Don’t be ridiculous Susan,” he drawled. “Minister Fudge is never too busy to answer calls from Harry.”

“It would have been easier to kill her,” Harry muttered to Luna on their way to the library. The others were all chatting excitedly about the ‘Defense Against Dark Arts Club’, the official Hogwarts club with the least interesting name ever.

Loads better than ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ that Neville mentioned said Finnigan and the Patil twins were trying to run. Apparently they were ‘showing loyalty’ to the headmaster whose name was being trashed in the papers and by the majority of Slytherin house.

Luna laughed airily and squeezed his hand. “You will.”

Harry accepted this with a sigh of relief.

It sometimes seemed like Timmy had the right idea. He didn’t bother with the politics and playing nice- he just killed whoever was in his way.

But then Harry remembered that two of the people who stood in his way were his parents, and that he’d tried to kill Snape back in May and reminded himself that Timmy wasn’t much of a role model.

***

Sirius and Lupin,
Sounds brill. I’ll see you Saturday. Don’t forget that our first game is next Sunday.
-Harry

***

Life that week went on as usual for Harry. He attended classes during the day and he ran practices in the afternoons.

Hermione compared all of their schedules and made Monday nights the official night for the DADA club to meet bi-weekly. The plan was to advertise the club and then have the first meeting the day after their first quidditch match.

And, at breakfast Wednesday morning, Harry wasn’t sure if Hogwarts could get any better when he saw a group of a dozen owls carrying a giant box straight to the Slytherin table.

Sevvie followed behind them, dropping a red envelope in front of Harry right on top of the huge box.

“What’s that?” Neville asked, carefully prodding the box.

“A howler,” Ron’s face paled and he pointed slowly at the red envelope.

“What’s that?”

Before Ron could answer Harry’s question, or Harry could answer Neville’s, the ‘howler’ did both.

The Hall seemed to go silent as everyone watched the the envelope magically levitate itself and unfold right in Harry’s face.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU BUILD THE GREATEST QUIDDITCH TEAM EVER! DID YOU EVEN THINK OF HOW DEVASTATED MINNIE WILL BE WHEN THE LIONS LOSE? HOW EMBARRASSED SHE’S GOING TO FEEL? IT’S GOING TO BE TERRIBLE FOR HER WHEN YOU LEAD YOUR TEAM TO VICTORY! I AM SO DISAPPOINTED-“

“PADFOOT! DO NOT TELL HIM YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED YOU IDIOT! WAIT, IS THAT A HOWLER?!”

“GOTTA GO! LOVE YOU PUP!”

Harry’s face had never been so red in its entire life.

He was going to kill Sirius. The brooms he was sure were in this box were not worth having everyone stare at him as the envelope burnt itself to ashes.

He sent a nervous glance up at the Head Table and saw that Snape and McGonagall both were watching him as well. Snape was smirking, probably laughing at Harry’s embarrassment like the bastard Harry knew he was on occasion. And McGonagall’s lips had never been so thin before.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” she snapped, thankfully taking the attention off Harry.

“Oi! What for?!” Thomas yelled from the Gryffindor table.

“Nostalgia,” was McGonagall’s curt response.

Which, as odd as that reply was, it did make Harry’s friends all laugh.

“Does that mean that’s what I think it is?” Ron gasped. “Harry. Mate. Let’s skip history and go fly?”

“Harry is a prefect, he can’t just skip classes to go flying,” Hermione hissed.

Harry glanced at Draco and saw his carefully masked excitement and shrugged.

“You in Dray?”

Draco’s head snapped up. “Really?”

Harry also thought that sometimes people misunderstood him just as much as they did Snape.

Did he have a bit of a temper? Yeah.

Does he always have a good understanding of relationships like everyone else seems to? No.

But Draco thinking Harry wouldn’t include him in the first test ride of Firebolt 100’s for their quidditch team was stupid. He was Harry’s cousin and one of his friends. Draco never asked for favors and always stuck by Harry’s side. He bought Harry his first broom and made Flint let Harry try out for the team. Harry would kill anyone for Draco. Of course he was going to include him in such a brilliant idea.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it, would I?” Harry said. “But if you don’t want to go...”

“Yes!” Draco jumped from his seat with the least amount of control Harry had ever seen him dismay. Luna giggled at his enthusiasm, which must have brought Draco to his senses.

“Uh, excuse me,” he blushed. “I- I can help you carry that box Harry.”

“Orrrr, I can levitate it,” Harry drawled with a roll of his eyes. “Nev, you wanna skip off too?”

“And get on a broom? I’ll take my chances with Binns,” Neville shuddered.

“How mad will Snape be if I skip?” Susan asked.

“You can’t skip! We’re partners!” Hermione said. “The boys shouldn’t be skipping class either!”

Harry grinned at Hermione and made the box float off the table in front of him. “Alright Mione, we won’t skip.”

Hermione looked momentarily relieved, and Ron and Draco looked devastated.

“Really?” Hermione said hopefully.

“Nope. Run!”

Harry, Ron, and Draco laughed like idiots as they ran from the Great Hall straight to the quidditch pitch.

The boys had a great time flying. By the time they landed they were all sporting flushed cheeks and windswept hair.

“There’s no way we can lose.” Draco had a bounce in his step as they went to lock their brooms up with the others in the changing rooms. “We’re-“

“What the fuck?”

Harry’s overwhelming happiness from flying with his friends died immediately as his vision went red. Because there, leaning against the outside of the Slytherin changing rooms, was Fred.

Fred and some fucking tosser snogging.

Harry’s vision seemed to narrow down to this one person. This yellow clad older student.

Ron and Draco darted forward to yank Harry away, but they were too slow.

Harry landed a punch to the Hufflepuff boys face before he even had a chance to realize Harry was there.

“ARE YOU FUCKIN SERIOUS?” he yelled. He went to hit him again, but the prat ducked and Harry hit the building instead.

“What the hell?” the boy yelped, darting off to the side, effectively blocking Harry’s next hit.

“Harry, c’mon,” Ron made a brave grab at Harry’s right arm and yanked on it. “They’re fucking brainless morons, don’t get expelled mate.”

It was only Ron’s use of Harry’s favorite curse word that drew Harry’s eyes from the Hufflepuff boy to Fred.

Fred who was fucking grinning at him.

“Don’t touch me,” Harry shook off Ron’s hold of his arm and glared at Fred. “I will kill you,” Harry hissed.

“Why?” Fred asked innocently as the Hufflepuff boy ran towards the castle as quickly as he could. “You’re not jealous, right Harry?”

Harry’s hand flew to his pocket- only to be stopped by Draco this time.

“No!” Harry spat. God he was sick of people accusing him of being jealous. “You- I- detention. You have detention.”

Fred’s smile only grew at Harry’s blatant abuse of his authority as prefect. And Harry had never wanted to hit him so bad before.

“With Snape,” he sneered. “On Saturday.”

Which meant that if Fred and the coward that ran away had plans for some cute little Hogsmeade date, they were cancelled now.

Harry went to stalk off, but Fred’s laughter almost had him giving up his entire education if he could just go back and hit him one time.

“Breathe,” Draco murmured from his side. “He’s just trying to get a reaction from you.”

“Is murder a reaction?” Harry growled.

“He’d deserve it,” Ron muttered darkly. “Merlin. I can’t believe he’d be so daft.”

“Who was the other bloke?” Harry demanded as soon as the three of them were safely in the locker room and Harry had slammed the door behind them.

“Kaleb Barrett,” Draco supplied immediately. He carefully grabbed the Firebolt still in Harry’s hand from him and hung it up on the wall. “Seventh year Hufflepuff.”

“Well he’s got fuckin detention too,” Harry snarled.

“Snape might not like you giving them detention for pissing you off,” Ron said slowly. “Tell him it’s for public display of affection or something.”

Harry bit his tongue until he tasted blood and jerked his shoulders in a shrug.

Snape better just be happy Harry didn’t kill them and make them absolutely miserable during detention.

He probably would.

Harry immediately logged Barrett and Fred’s detentions the moment the three of them got back to the castle. He hesitated when he had to write down a reason before firmly writing ‘snogging in public’.

Snape would figure it out.

Harry returned to his classes with the other Slytherin boys and was relieved that everyone seemed to understand he was not in a good mood and did not want anyone to talk to him.

Draco had explained what happened in a note he passed to Susan in defense, causing her to glower and mentally swear to kick Fred’s arse. But she knew better than to bring it up to Harry when he looked half a second away from burning down the entire castle.

Even Luna kept her distance, knowing Harry needed time to calm down before she tried to cheer him up.

And, by Friday evening, Harry was mostly calm.

He was digging out every book on curses that the restricted section of the library offered (another perk that came with his prefects badge) while his friends wrote their essays for Flitwick, but he was calmer now.

He had ended it with Fred because Fred deserved better. Fred deserved someone who wasn’t broken and could give him everything he deserved.

But fuck if Harry wanted to see Fred actually snogging someone else right in front of him.

“That’s a good one,” Blaise murmured, gesturing to the book Harry brought back to their table. “There’s an excellent curse of castration in there.”

Harry wasn’t sure what castration was, but if Blaise said it was a good curse then he’d add it to his list of things to try out if he ever found Barrett alone in the halls.

“Are we allowed to talk about it now?” Susan whispered to Harry after she neatly rolled up her essay.

“Nope.”

“He doesn’t really like Barrett,” Ron jumped in quietly. “He’s just-“

“Think I said ‘nope’, didn’t I?”

“We’re talking about it during patrol tonight.” Susan crossed her arms stubbornly. “If nothing else, we can plot revenge.”

Harry just nodded and focused on his book. The rest of them finished up their essays and chatted quietly about their classes and which OWL will be the hardest and a million other things Harry didn’t give a damn about just then.

“Hi Harry.”

Harry glanced up irritably at the girl who was standing beside the table his gang had claimed way back in first year. His friends quieted down, curious what she wanted from Harry.

Except Luna, who hummed as she stared up at the ceiling with an odd little smile on her face.

“What?” Harry snapped at the girl.

“I wanted to find out how I can sign up for your defense club,” the girl smiled coyly, twisting a lock of her long dark curls around her finger.

“Mione and Theo do sign ups,” Harry said coolly. “They’ll add your name.”

“It’s Romilda, Romilda Vane,” the girl smiled, not even looking to where Harry pointed out Hermione and Theo.

“Brill,” Harry grit out, losing what little patience he had. “Tell them.”

“I also wanted to know if you had plans Saturday?” she asked, either oblivious to Harry’s decreasing patience or ridiculously brave to continue the conversation.

Harry’s brows twitched and he cocked his head to the side as he studied her. She was pretty enough; long black curls, dark skin, and light brown eyes framed in thick lashes. She had on the school uniform, but hers looked to be shrunken on her as it clung to curves that the other boys were doing an admirable job of ignoring.

And, most importantly, she was a Gryffindor.

Harry closed his book and offered her a charming smile. “I don’t,” he lied.

Romilda beamed, and she had a decent enough smile. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Harry eyed her maroon and gold tie one more time before he leaned back in his chair and shrugged casually. “Why not?”

His friends exchanged surprised looks, all of which Harry ignored.

“Great!” Romilda bounced on the balls of her feet. “I can meet you in the Great Hall at noon?”

“See ya then,” Harry smirked.

“What in Merlin’s name was that?” Theo asked in a hushed whisper as soon as Romilda left.

“Payback I’m pretty sure,” Blaise smiled. “And a pretty payback at that.”

Neville shook his head in Harry’s direction. “She’s going to tell the entire Gryffindor common room that she’s going out with Harry on Saturday.”

Harry bit back a smug grin. He had been fairly certain that Romilda was one of the girls who giggled in their groups when they saw him in the halls, which was fine by him.

”You know she only asked you out because you’re famous?” Draco said hesitantly. “I thought you wanted to go out with someone who liked you for you?”

“It’s one date,” Harry said lightly. “I don’t care why she asked me out.”

All he actually cared about was that she bragged to the seventh year Gryffindor boys.

Sirius & Lupin,
Can we reschedule lunch? I’ve got a date Saturday.
-Harry.

Chapter Text

Severus sighed when there was a knock on his classroom door at noon on Saturday.

“Enter,” he said, masking his weariness behind a curt tone.

Frederick Weasley and Kaleb Barrett both stepped in the room.

“We’re here for detention sir,” Frederick smiled.

Barrett had his head hung low and a slumped posture. Frederick looked as if this were the most amusing detention he had ever served.

Which, Severus could admit, it likely was.

Severus had certainly been amused when Minerva pointed out Potter had assigned his first ever detention as a prefect.

“Severus- read this-“ Minerva’s lips were twitching like mad as she thrust the detention log book in Severus’ face after dinner one evening last week. Severus’ eyes had roamed over the list of students serving with him and paused when he saw Frederick’s name in Potter’s handwriting.

“‘Snogging in public’?”

“Barrett too,” Minerva said. “Poppy said Barrett came to her this morning with a black eye. Your child is petty Severus.”

Severus was already aware of that. What he was not aware of, was why on earth Frederick had decided to antagonize Potter publicly.

But he had every intention of getting an answer.

“Clean-“ Severus pointed to the stack of disgusting cauldrons he’d saved for this detention. “No magic.”

Frederick gave him a cocky salute before cheerfully rolling his sleeves up and getting to work. Barrett followed behind, much more morosely and with a frown aimed at Frederick’s back.

If Frederick were not the single most irritating person that Severus had ever met, he may admit that he did not entirely despise Potter dating him.

Could Potter do better?

Certainly.

Could he do worse?

Undoubtedly.

Frederick was much more mature when it came to dealing with Potter than he was in every other aspect of his life. In fact, up until this idiotic stunt, Severus had actually privately commended Frederick for his maturity in the face of Potter’s abrupt dismissal of their relationship. He could also, begrudgingly and only in the very recesses of his mind, admit that Frederick had always treated Potter very well and had been incredibly respectful to Potter’s personal boundaries. Especially considering that the two of them had been having frequent, unsupervised, and not explicitly allowed, sleepovers for well over a year before they became sexually active. If Severus had to guess, knowing his abused and traumatized ward as his did, he would wager that it was not Frederick who wanted the delay, but it was Frederick who respected Potter’s boundaries all the same.

Severus ignored the two dunderheads as he graded a stack of essays and they quietly cleaned the cauldrons. After he finished destroying the stack of incompetent drivel his third year students had submitted, he checked their progress and nodded at the stack of gleaming cauldrons.

“Who washed this one?” Severus curled his lip up as he gestured to the perfectly spotless cauldron beside Barrett.

“I did sir,” Barrett said.

“I can still see slime in the bottom,” Severus lied. “Twenty points from Hufflepuff.”

Potter’s pettiness was likely a learned behavior, but Severus would prefer that Barrett learn not to provoke Potter before a bruise and detention was the least of his worries.

It was surprising to Severus that for a castle full of students who have done nothing but misunderstand and fear his ward, they certainly forgot how frightening Potter could be.

It took a vast amount of bravery, and stupidity, to interact with the well known ex of Harry Potter.

“Dismissed,” Severus told Barrett curtly. “Get out of my sight.”

Barrett turned on his heel and strode quickly from the classroom, shutting the door with a hard slam.

“Sit,” Severus told Frederick. He waited until the foolish young man was in what he typically referred to as ‘Potter’s chair’ before he began his carefully prepared opening.

“Perhaps you could explain to me why you went out of your way to antagonize Harry.”

“Perhaps I could,” Frederick said slowly. “Except I don’t think I’d win any bonus points with him by talking about him to you, would I?”

“Such as the many ‘bonus points’ you earned by frolicking around with another student where he could see?” Severus sneered.

Frederick was, as usual, unflappable in the face is Severus’ disdain. “That was an experiment,” he said cheerfully. “And a bloody good one if I must say.”

“An experiment,” Severus repeated coolly. “How so?”

Frederick relaxed back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and smiling. “You ever seen Harry hit a bloke before? It means he’s so mad that he forgets he’s a wizard.”

Severus believed it truly meant Potter was so enraged that his emotion-driven control of his magic stopped responding to him.

But to each their own.

“And this is cause for celebration?” Severus raised a brow at the idiot seated before him. “That Harry is incredibly furious with you?”

“Professor, why would he be so mad if he didn’t care?” Frederick asked. “If he didn’t still wanna be with me, why get angry enough to start throwing punches at random blokes?”

“You did this to make him jealous,” Severus sighed and went ahead and snatched a pain reliever from his desk. “Idiot boy.”

“Yup.” Frederick was undaunted by Severus’ exasperation. “Just like Harry’s on a date right now to make me jealous.”

Severus certainly did not choke on the pain reliever, but it did take a few coughs to clear his airway. “Pardon?”

“According to Romilda Vane-“

Severus mentally cringed at the name of the vapid girl in his fourth year potions class. Vane truly lived up to her name- she spent most of her time checking her reflection in any shiny surface she could and was a terrible brewer and an incompetent writer.

“-she asked Harry for a date and he said yes. And she doesn’t seem like someone he’d want to actually date, does she?”

“She does not,” Severus agreed unwillingly. In fact, he was quite certain that the only qualities Potter likely found appealing in the girl was her loud mouth and Gryffindor affiliation.

“Exactly.” Frederick tilted the chair back on two legs and his eyes were twinkling with mischief and merriment despite the ridiculous situation. “So what possible reason would Harry have to go out with her?”

Severus remained silent, massaging his temples as he acknowledged the truth in Frederick’s words.

Potter had no purpose in going out with the twit of a girl aside from making Frederick jealous. Which was an absurd thing to do considering Potter ended the relationship.

“Why did Harry break up with you?” he asked bluntly, causing Frederick to slam the chair back on four legs in surprise. “If the two of you are playing some ridiculous game that involves leading on others in an attempt to make the other jealous- why not simply rekindle the relationship?”

“Er... Harry didn’t- he didn’t tell you what happened? Really?”

“He told me that he believed he was protecting you,” Severus said. He went ahead and locked his door with a surreptitious flick of his wand.

No need for Potter to barge in when Severus was so close to resolving this issue that had been nagging at him since this past summer. He had vowed to allow Potter to handle it himself, but clearly the foolish child had no idea how to do so.

Which, in hindsight, Severus should have known. Potter had grown and matured quickly the last few years, but romantic relationships were still a relatively new territory for him and it had been naive on Severus’ part to entrust him to deal with them alone.

“That’s the line he fed me too,” Frederick said. “But... but I don’t think that’s why he did it.”

“Why do you believe he did it?”

Frederick looked around the room carefully, as if searching for hidden surveillance or, much more likely, invisible teenage boys with a penchant for being places they should not.

“I’d rather not say,” Frederick eventually said. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap and gave Severus an apologetic look. “Harry’s a private bloke, if he finds out I said anything then that’s that for us.”

Severus steepled his hands beneath his chin and analyzed Frederick closely. He could admit that it was admirable how the young man was keeping Potter’s secrets regardless of their relationship standing, but it was also annoying and a hurdle he would need to overcome.

“Depending on the severity of the issue, I could speak with Harry and attempt to ascertain his view on the situation. But as he is a rather, how did you so eloquently phrase it? Ah, a ‘private bloke’, it would be helpful if I were aware of the issue before I approached it with him. Which I am capable of doing with the upmost cunning and subtly.”

Frederick’s blue eyes locked on to Severus’ black ones for several silent moments. He eerily reminded Severus of Potter himself as he seemed to look to his soul for the authenticity of his words.

“I don’t normally ask this of people, but would you swear it?” Frederick eventually said with a seldom seen solemn look on his face. “Because I love Harry. And I think he loves me. But he’ll never want to be with me if he finds out. But... but if he didn’t tell you what happened then he probably didn’t tell anyone, and... I love him enough to know that he should talk to someone about it.”

It was this undeniable maturity that had Severus raising his wand in his right hand.

“I, Severus Tobias Snape, vow on my magic and life to never inform Harry James Potter that Frederick Weasley shared the information I learn from this current conversation. So mote it be.”

Frederick relaxed in his seat at Severus’ vow, though he now looked undoubtedly more nervous than he had before.

“I should have asked you to vow not to kill me,” he said. “Because you might consider it. But Harry probably wouldn’t like it if you did.”

Severus prepared himself to hear something that he was certain would be incredibly annoying if it came with such a warning.

“We had sex,” Frederick blurted. “Harry and I. We had sex for the first time.”

“I am aware.” Severus was not necessarily reassuring Frederick, as he was not thrilled with the step they took over the summer, but it would do no good for the boy to be on edge for this conversation either.

“You are?” Frederick relaxed back in his chair at that. “Oh. Good. Well... well when we had sex, Harry, um... he didn’t like it much.”

Severus stiffened in his chair, both his wand hand and his jaw clenched tightly. “Oh?” If Frederick had forced himself upon Potter, then the kindest thing Severus would do is end his life. He had spent many years dwelling in dark arts, there was no limit to the amount of pain he could inflict on this Merlin damned, brain dead, menace.

“Not like that!” Frederick said hastily, correctly interpreting the ice cold look in Severus’ eyes. “He wanted to! I swear! I wasn’t going to, but he wanted to! He begged-“

“Shut up,” Severus hissed. Possibly the only situation worse than imagining Frederick taking advantage of his ward was hearing the word ‘begged’ in the current conversation. “Proceed with the issue, sparing specific and unnecessary details.”

“Harry was embarrassed,” Frederick said bluntly. “He had a... panic attack? Or a-“ Frederick’s eyes flashed with a tortured look of devastation “-a flashback? I think,” he said. “And he said to stop, so I did. But I don’t think he knew where he was for a while because he just kept whispering stop over and over. And he was crying Snape. Harry. Crying. Then when he came to he screamed at me to leave. Next thing I know, a week later, he comes over to Sirius’ place and tells me that it’s over.”

It was rare, but in moments like this Severus had an overwhelming urge to contact Black. He should beg the man to take over Potter’s guardianship, because he certainly was entirely incompetent.

He knew Potter carried a lifetime of abuse and trauma on his shoulders. He knew it as certainly as he knew the sky was blue and his hair was black. He had witnessed firsthand a traumatic memory of Potter being assaulted and killing his assailant.

He had questioned Potter’s mental capacity to handle a sexual relationship when Lupin found Potter and Frederick in a state of undress in his wards third year.

He had personally read the notes from the Mind Healer that outlined Potter’s PTSD and mental illness.

And then, because he was both a terrible parent and an unforgivable dunce- he handed over a potion for sexual stimulation once Potter informed him that his Manic Depressive Potion was preventing him from getting an erection.

There were a million things he could blame for not putting the pieces of the puzzle together before now; wartime planning, Potter’s annoying behavior over the summer, the vast amount of brewing he had done, and many other excuses. But what it boiled down to was Severus had not even considered the coincidence that Potter ended his relationship mere days after he was informed Potter and Frederick were going to become sexually involved for the first time.

If being an unqualified and useless guardian was a crime, certainly Severus had earned himself a lifetime in Azkaban at this tragic oversight.

“Harry had a panic attack during intercourse,” Severus repeated tonelessly. “I presume that he was-“ Severus cringed at the necessity of the question “-the one being penetrated?”

Frederick looked just as uncomfortable at the question and shifted uneasily in his seat. “Yes sir.”

That would certainly be enough to trigger a flashback and panic attack for a victim of multiple sexual assaults as Potter was.

“I don’t care if Harry never wants to have sex with me again,” Frederick said quickly and quietly, “I just want him back. He trusts me, he told me things he never had before this summer. And I don’t know if he knows it, but I think he loves me. The sex doesn’t matter to me, not if he’s happy and he’s alright, but I don’t think he’s alright.”

Could Potter actually do better than the young man with the earnest gaze who sounded nothing but honest when he said that a sexual relationship is not his priority?

Probably not.

Severus would admit to tolerating very few people in his life. Potter, Theodore, Barty, the Malfoy’s, Lovegood and Bones were the top contenders if Severus had to admit to caring about others at all. But Frederick had elevated himself to the bottom of that short list with both his understanding and maturity.

“What things did Harry share with you?” Severus asked curiously. It must have been rather telling for Frederick if he was using words like ‘flashback’ and ‘panic attack’, though there was a minor possibility that Potter disclosed his abuse prior to that.

“He told me about his manic depression and he told me he used to be homeless.” Frederick’s eyes were no longer sparkling with mischief or merriment as Severus was so accustomed to seeing. “He told me why he doesn’t like Charlie.”

“Oh?” Severus’ interest was caught at that unexpected note. He had not thought there was a specific reason that Potter disliked the older Weasley, he had assumed that the mere size of the man was the source of Potter’s obvious discomfort around him. “Explain.”

“He said...” Frederick blew out a deep breath. “He said that he saw a bloke one time who looked like Charlie and that he killed an old man in an alley where Harry was sleeping. It wasn’t Charlie,” Frederick added hastily. “But Harry says it was the first time he saw someone killed in front of him.”

Therapy. Potter needed immense amounts of therapy.

And, likely, so did Frederick. It had to be uncomfortable for him to hear those things. Not to mention dealing with your partner having a traumatic episode during intercourse.

“Write to Remus Lupin,” Severus told him. “He will help you with any feelings you may be having.”

Frederick gave him a lopsided grin. “Professor Snape are you saying you care about my feelings?”

“I am not,” Severus lied stiffly. “I am saying that mental health is not prioritized by Wixen as it should be. And I happen to know that Lupin is an excellent-“

It burnt Severus’ tongue to compliment the wolf in any way.

“-person to speak with about it.”

“Alright then.” Frederick stretched his arms out and stood up, recognizing the dismissal for what it was. “You’ll- uh- talk to Harry then? And don’t mention anything about me loving him please, I know he’ll want to get back together eventually. But I don’t want him to feel forced in to it.”

Severus inclined his head in agreement. “I appreciate you speaking with me. In the future, regardless of what you may believe, Potter’s mental health should come before his wishes for secrecy. Potter does not always have his priorities in the correct order and I am always available to assist him.”

Surprisingly, Frederick pushed his hands in to his pockets and gave Severus another solemn nod. “I think I told you this before, but I just wanted to tell you again that I think Harry’s got the best luck when it comes to guardians. Thank you Professor.”

Severus inclined his head once more, unlocked the door, and watched as Frederick left the classroom.

He then glanced longingly at his bourbon he keeps stashed in his desk drawer before sighing heavily and resigning himself to a truly distasteful task.

“Remus Lupin’s Cottage,” he called in his floo.

He waited as patiently as he could as he called Lupin’s name through the obviously empty cottage before scowling and withdrawing his head.

Severus thought of Potter placing his surname before Black’s in his list of heirships and flicked his wand again, ”Expecto Patronum.”

“Lupin, floo to my quarters at your earliest convenience. Immediately.”

Severus sent off his silver fox and sank down in his recliner, applying pressure directly in the center of his forehead.

He also summoned a cold compress from the muggle medical kit he had purchased back when Potter was taking muggle medications that could not be mixed with potions. He applied the compress to his forehead as he could feel a migraine blooming despite his attempts to stave it off.

Severus had never felt like more of a failure before. And he knew that as much as he blamed Potter and his love of chaos for many of his frequent migraines- it was shame that was driving him to pain at present.

Severus was still seated in his recliner, the compress covering his forehead and eyes, when his floo flared to life and Lupin stepped out.

“Severus? Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Severus tossed his compress to the side and got to his feet. He appraised Lupin carefully and furrowed his brows at the peculiar getup the man was in. “Did I interrupt a duel you were losing?” Lupin’s trousers and cardigan were both covered in splashes of something dark green that smelled truly disgusting.

“Of a sort,” Lupin said cheerfully. “Sirius moved Kreacher to Moon Lodge to take care of the pack that’s staying there. But then today he brought over an elf he got off Narcissa, a mad little thing named Dobby, and I was trying to keep them from fighting.” He gestured down at his ruined clothes, “Fruitlessly, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Severus sneered. “Have you spoken with Harry recently?”

Lupin remained standing, as did Severus, though Severus would never lean against the wall and cross his legs in such a juvenile manner. “We were supposed to meet today, but then he said he’s on a date. Sirius is spying on him, it didn’t sound like it was going that great.”

“Shocking,” Severus quipped. “As Miss Vane is such a charming girl.”

“Oh is that who it is?” Lupin chuckled. “Sirius said that the girl kept trying to cuddle against Harry in their booth and he kept pushing her away. Last update I got was that Harry decided to make his friends join them.”

“Delightful,” Severus drawled. He went ahead and sat back down in his chair, requiring physical comfort to venture down this path he himself had forged back in Potter’s third year. “I believe you will need to speak with Frederick Weasley. I instructed him to write to you.”

“Oh?” Lupin took Severus’ cue and took a seat on the edge of his leather sofa. “What about?”

“Second hand trauma,” Severus said flatly. It irked him to confide things to the wolf, but while he had paid for his education in matters of psychology (and the most recent bill he had received from the Kings College of London had been both a nasty surprise and a heartening one- he had hardly expected Lupin to complete so many required courses so quickly) then he had to entrust him to treat this as the professional discussion it was. “Harry and Frederick had sexual intercourse, and Harry had what sounds like a flashback during it. It was undoubtedly traumatic for Frederick to deal with.”

“Aah,” Lupin nodded sagely. “I had wondered who had pilfered my textbooks from my bag. I had thought perhaps- nevermind. It makes sense now anyway.”

As that was not a statement that required a response, Severus did not respond. He simply waited for Lupin to accept his request and leave.

“Of course I’ll talk with Fred,” Lupin finally said quickly. “Would you like me to talk with Harry as well? I know he has a match next weekend, but I could speak with him tomorrow? Or even invite him over after classes one day this week?”

“Do you truly believe you and Harry are close enough that he will discuss it with you?” Severus raised a brow at the wolf disdainfully. “I thought not,” he added when Lupin said nothing. “I will speak with Harry. I will point him in your direction for coping mechanisms, which I trust you will discover to share with him?”

“Yes, I can do that,” Lupin said with just a touch too much enthusiasm. “Whatever you guys need, just let me know. And I’ll write to Fred. If he would like to meet in person, do you think you could help arrange it?”

“I will,” Severus said. He ground his back teeth together until he managed to grit out, “Thank you.”

Which burnt like acid on his tongue.

“Happy to help,” Lupin said in a way that you could not doubt his words. “If there’s nothing else then I’ll just pop back over and try to keep everyone in Moon Lodge alive.”

Severus lifted his hand in a half-hearted gesture of farewell as Lupin stepped back in the floo.

Now to plot and wait. See if Potter comes to him of his own volition after a disastrous date or if he will have to hunt him down tomorrow for a conversation.

A conversation he had no idea how to approach.

As it turned out, Potter did come seek him out, the next morning, and offered an excellent opening to bring it up.

“Sev, I am telling you, that girl is barmy, yeah? I thought she was going to rip her whole shirt off in the middle of the Three Broomsticks.” Potter shuddered dramatically and took a long sip of his coffee.

Severus unwillingly chuckled, pleased that the two of them had a close enough relationship that it allowed Potter to show up with breakfast and offers to tell him ‘about the worst date in the world’.

“Why would you even accept a date from her?” Severus asked lightly. “That girl simply wishes to ride your coattails to fame.”

Potter huffed and tapped the table in an irritable pattern with his thumb. “You told me to move on?” he offered as a weak excuse. “She asked me out, I said yes.”

“And it was a mere coincidence that you did so only days after finding your Weasley with Barrett outside?” Severus asked.

“Hmm. Maybe,” Potter said slowly. “If Fred’s seeing other people, then I should too, yeah?”

“Are you not worried they will be injured in the coming wars?” Severus raised a brow. “I recall that being your reasoning for ending your relationship with Frederick. Or do you simply not value Miss Vane’s life as much?”

Potter gave Severus an incredibly guilty look through his fringe. A look of a child caught in a lie, as Potter must have realized he was.

“Er... alright, so I didn’t really plan on dating her, did I? She asked me out, and I was still a bit pissed at Fred, so I said yeah.”

If there was an emotion Potter was getting well acquainted with recently, it was jealousy.

“Why would you use Miss Vane as revenge against Frederick? Aside from the questionable morals involved in leading a student on when you have no intention of returning her affections-“

Which truly was reprehensible on both Potter and Frederick’s parts.

“-why would you be interested in retaliating against a young man who you decided to no longer date?”

Potter looked properly abashed of his behavior; he squirmed in his chair and stared down at the table as he continued his rhythmic tap, tap, rub. tap, tap, rub. with his thumb.

“Sorry,” he eventually said. “I- I didn’t think about how I was using her. She just asked, so I said yeah.”

“A folly of youth easily forgiven,” Severus assured him. “One that Frederick himself is not innocent of.”

Potter gave him a quick and queer look at that. “How?”

“Harry.” Severus waited until Potter looked up from his seat across the dining table from him. He attempted a kind smile in the face of his wards confusion. “Do you truly believe that Frederick has any romantic interest in Barrett?”

“He looked pretty interested on Wednesday,” Potter snarled quietly.

“And you believe it was a coincidence that the entire Great Hall saw you running for the quidditch pitch and Frederick just happened to choose that spot to display affection for a student whom I have never seen him interact with before?”

Potter looked caught off guard for a split second before masterfully clearing the emotions off his face.

“You think he did it to make me mad on purpose? Why would he do that? I almost hit him!”

“Because he is a teenage boy capable of making incredibly immature decisions,” Severus said drily. “Though I should commend you child, the first time I saw your mother kiss your father I cursed him, I believe he carried the scar to his grave.”

Potter, inexplicably, laughed at that. Which was both validating and endlessly amusing. “I knew you’d be happy I didn’t kill them,” he said. “I almost did, didn’t I? Fuckin Barrett.”

“Fuckin Barrett indeed,” Severus repeated with a smirk. “It may lighten your worries to know that not only did Frederick entirely ignore Barrett during their detention, but Barrett seemed quite displeased with Frederick as well.”

Potter sat up straight at that and seemed to fight the urge to smile. “Really?”

“Would I lie to you? Actually,” Severus went on before Potter could respond. “You and I have always had a policy of not lying to one another, correct?”

“Correct,” Potter mimicked him.

“Excellent.” Severus poured Potter another cup of coffee then surveyed him over his own mug. “I would like to ask you a question, and I would like you to be honest with me, despite how difficult it may be to do so.”

Potter narrowed his eyes at Severus before jerking his shoulders in a curt shrug.

“What is the true reason that you ended your relationship with Frederick?”

As Potter did not immediately leap up and leave Severus’ quarters, he presumed his question would be answered.

Potter’s eyes flicked around the room as he seemed to sort out his thoughts. Severus gave him time and patience to do so, pleased that at least Potter was going to respond.

He had nearly finished his drink by the time Potter spoke though, breaking Severus’ heart with his very first sentence.

“You know how I’m broken, yeah? Well Fred’s a- a good person. And I think he deserves better.”

Potter’s self confidence was so low that an ant could hardly crawl beneath the bar.

It must take an incredible amount of determination to strut about the castle as he does.

“I do not know how you are broken,” Severus said clearly. “Though I am interested in your reasoning.”

Potter gave him a beautifully scathing look of disbelief. “You brew the potion every month,” he said. “Broken brain, broken body, broken fuckin everything,” he spat. “And Fred’s like... he’s the opposite of broken, and he shouldn’t have to put up with me and my bullshit.”

Severus was so filled with pity that he averted his eyes to the dregs of caramel colored coffee swirling in the bottom of his mug.

He was not cut out for this.

He should tell Potter to go speak with Lupin.

But Potter wouldn’t. And someone had to speak with him.

“Listen to me child,” Severus said firmly, but not unkindly. He focused on Potter’s hands, as he was refusing eye contact as he typically did when he was feeling vulnerable. “You are not without the baggage from heinous crimes committed upon you, but that does not make you broken. It makes you a survivor. And survivors hardly survive without developing different reactions than those who lived easy lives have.”

“Sev- I-“ Potter faltered as he struggled to respond. “I- we...” Potter’s voice faded and his thumb went positively erratic as he attempted to self-soothe. “We had sex and I freaked out and it was a bloody nightmare,” he said in a quick rush that Severus nearly didn’t comprehend. “So... yeah. That’s... that’s freaky, right? Broken. It’s a mess.”

“Can you describe ‘freaking out’ to me?” Severus asked calmly.

“Er...” Potter squinted as he attempted to find a way to describe the sensation. “You remember that dementor on the train, yeah? And I didn’t know where I was for a bit? It was like that.”

“And did you feel broken when the dementor brought up traumatic memories that triggered a flashback and panic attack?”

“Yes.”

Of course he did.

All the magical prowess of the next Merlin and all the self worth of... well. Actually Severus had no good analogy for Potter’s self worth. Which was disturbing.

“Well you are not,” Severus snapped. “You are the least broken person I have ever met despite the entire worlds efforts to cause it. You are not broken. You are not freaky. You are not a god damned mess.”

Potter looked up at him and blinked slowly. “Are- are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You sound mad?”

“I AM NOT ANGRY AT YOU!” Severus yelled. Potter flinched back in his chair, instantly draining Severus of the anger that had swelled in him as he considered all that had been done to his ward to cause this... this remarkable young man to consider himself too lowly to deserve the love of a partner.

“Harry, I apologize.” Severus cleared his mind and focused on Potter, who, impressively, had not fled but was instead tightly tensed in his chair. “I truly am not angry at you. I am angry at the Dursley’s, at Albus, at every mother fucking muggle you ever encountered, and at myself.”

“Why y-yourself?”

Terrific. He had driven Potter to stutter.

“Because I am failing you as a guardian,” Severus admitted. “I seem to always have good intentions when it comes to you, and then fail in the execution.”

Severus had closed his eyes to apply pressure to them both and thus was startled when a small and calloused hand gripped his arm.

“That’s not on,” Potter said quietly. “I think you’re doing a great job. Mione says I must be hell to put up with, yeah? But you didn’t leave. Didn’t get rid of me. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“You have low expectations,” said Severus.

“Maybe,” Potter said thoughtfully. “But everyone always tells me I’ve got the best guardian.”

“And I have it on good authority that I happen to have a brilliant, tenacious, strong, ward,” Severus said firmly. “The least broken person that I have ever, or will ever, meet.”

Potter retracted his arm and gave Severus a half-smile. “Who said that?”

“I did,” Severus sniffed, attempting to draw a true smile from the child. “And I happen to be a genius.”

Potter did chuckle at that, shaking his head and causing his hair to flop around messily. “You shouldn’t say you’re a bad guardian, it’s- people might believe you if they hear it.”

Severus held Potter’s eyes, attempting to force him to believe his words through sheer willpower. “And you should not call yourself broken. Harry, you are not broken in any way.” He extended his hand to Potter’s arm slowly, returning the gesture. “You and I will find a way to navigate this. Together. Yes?”

It seemed an eternity later, an eternity spent as the only person whose opinion of Severus truly mattered judged him.

And did not find him lacking.

“‘Kay.”

“Kay,” Severus repeated.

It was hardly a start.

But it was a start.

“Can- can I stay here until practice tonight?”

Severus smiled at his ridiculous ward. “Of course you may.”

***

Lupin,
When Harry and Frederick resume their relationship, I would be willing to pay you 50 galleons to conduct some form of counseling for them both.
- S.S.

Chapter Text

“Why are we sitting over here?” Hermione asked curiously, following behind Susan’s confident strut to the Gryffindor stands.

“Because he isn’t a teacher, or a parent, or a reporter.” Susan pointed at the man sitting next to the announcers box. “Which means he’s a recruiter.”

“And you’re going to irritate him into recruiting Harry?” Blaise asked.

“Don’t be fucking daft.” Susan rolled her eyes. “We’re going to sit behind him and ‘ooh’ and ‘awe’ at every single move Harry makes. And probably talk him up a bit-“

“Not that he needs it,” Luna said sweetly. “Everyone knows Harry’s the best flier in the country.”

“Precisely.” Susan smiled at one of her best friends and linked their arms together. “That’s just the type of thing we should mention.”

“Subtly of course,” Theo said. “Don’t make it obvious or else he might ignore us.”

“I know that,” Susan scowled.

It honestly irked her how none of the boys seemed to think she could be subtle. She definitely could be, she just usually chose not to.

Subtlety was for when you wanted to hide your actions, Susan didn’t normally want to hide anything. She would do what she needed to do, usually for this large group of idiots that she loves, and she would accept her accolades or admonishments with pride.

“Are we sitting with Brown?” Blaise hissed as they neared their seats and Susan’s direction came clear.

“We are,” Susan said simply. Lavender Brown and Neville were friends. It wasn’t her fault that Blaise had already hooked up with her back in fourth year, if she only flirted or fooled around with people Blaise hasn’t hooked up with then she might as well transfer schools entirely.

It helped that Lavender was dreadfully pretty and seemed to be pretty openly making her way through most of the fifth years, gender be damned. Susan had caught her with Dean Thomas in an abandoned corridor one night during patrols, and another night she found her brazenly with Padma Patil. Lavender hadn’t even seemed ashamed in the slightest to be caught with two different people in such a short time period. And it was that refusal to be ashamed of her desires that caught Susan’s interest.

Especially as she had vowed to herself to use this year to explore herself and her sexuality. Johnny was great about it, he knew what they were when they first got together. Neither of them wanted a full-time relationship, so they settled for hooking up here and there when they had the time and mutual desire.

So if Lavender was sitting behind the recruiter, then Susan would kill two birds with one stone.

“Hello,” Susan smiled brightly at Lavender, ignoring her look of surprise as she slid in the seat beside her. Luna sat next to Susan, a bemused smile on her face, Neville on the other side of her. Theo, Hermione, and Blaise all took the seats directly behind them.

“Hello,” Lavender said slowly, a puzzled look on her face. “Why aren’t you sitting in the Slytherin stands today?”

“Better view from here,” Susan said with a small wink. A wink that made Lavender’s tanned cheeks turn juuuust the slightest shade of pink. “Are you ready to watch your team lose?”

“I’m hoping they’ll win,” Lavender giggled, a sort of annoying noise but not an entire deal breaker.

“They won’t,” Luna said with her softly spoken confidence. “Harry’s never lost a match before.”

The recruiter in front of them seemed to shift in his seat at that, his navy blue capped head perked up with a bit more liveliness than he had shown before. Which proved Susan’s point she made to her friends at breakfast once Harry left. The recruiters (she had hoped to see more than one, but one was better than nothing) might show up because Harry’s famous, but they’ll pick him because he’s brilliant.

“Didn’t he lose a match in our third year?” Lavender asked, instantly dropping Susan’s view of her.

“Only because of the dementors,” Blaise said in his typical bored drawl behind them. “I think I’d fall off my broom if two hundred dementors stormed the field as well.”

“I could have sworn it was more like four hundred,” Neville said casually. “It was amazing that Harry didn’t die, he’s got to be the most resilient bloke I ever met.”

Susan loved her friends so, so much.

Lavender gave them a curious look, but didn’t say anything else at the moment either.

“Ooh it’s starting!” Luna squealed excitedly beside Susan. “Look! There’s our boys!”

Susan looked down on the pitch and saw as Harry, flanked by Draco and Ron, led the Slytherin team on the pitch. Harry looked brilliant in his quidditch gear, as he always did. He always seemed to stand taller, his shoulders more squared, and his expression happier when he was on the pitch.

“Wager on the match?” Blaise poked Neville. “I’ve got 100 galleons that Harry’s team wins.”

“Pft, nobody’s dim enough to take that bet,” Neville scoffed. “Look at his team! Slytherin’s a shoe in for the cup, again, this year.”

“I want a nice clean game!” Hooch was saying firmly from the ground. “Captains- shake hands!”

Harry stepped forward and quickly shook hands with Angelina Johnson, a pretty black girl with long dark braids. If Angelina wasn’t dating George Weasley, then she would have been Susan’s first choice to explore her sexuality with, but not all her dreams were meant to come true apparently.

Plus, today she had to focus on helping make one of Harry’s dreams come true. He wanted to play professional quidditch, and she’d be damned if she didn’t help make it happen.

“Who’s the little black haired boy with the Slytherin’s?” Lavender asked. “I thought they could only have seven players?”

“He’s the reserve seeker,” Susan said. “Since Harry is great at all the positions, he wanted a backup seeker in case he got hurt and needed to replace one of his other players.”

She knew that was a secret Harry was trying to keep the other teams from knowing, but since Bailey was on the field with Harry now, and it gave her an excellent opening to brag more on Harry’s skills, she figured he’d forgive her.

Also, she could see the recruiter scribbling like crazy on his notepad. So, Harry probably wouldn’t even be upset when he found out.

“That’s a good idea,” Lavender said thoughtfully.

“Of course it is, it was Harry’s,” Susan said simply.

She quieted down as the teams took to the sky at Madame Hooch’s whistle. The Gryffindor team was solid- Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were best friends and you could tell that from the way they worked in unison so easily. McLaggen was an idiot, but he wasn’t unskilled as a keeper. Little Ginny Weasley (who also had gotten rather attractive lately) was quick on a broom and dodged bludgers easily as she searched for the snitch. And, of course, Fred and George seemed to share a mind as they played their positions.

Susan had hoped that maybe in his campaign to win Harry back that Fred would play to just a little less than his best abilities, but maybe that was a plan in itself for him. Harry wouldn’t respect him if he threw a game, Harry liked to be the best without assistance.

Regardless of how good the Gryffindor team was, Susan (as unbiased as she could be) truly believed Harry’s team was better.

The new beaters, Bradford and Oscar, weren’t able to read each other’s minds like Fred and George did, but what they lacked in coordination, they more than made up for in determination.

Their keeper looked a bit like an arrogant twit as he floated lazily in front of the goal posts, but as long as he blocked the Gryffindor chasers from scoring, then Susan could overlook a bit of arrogance.

She did it for her boys all the time.

Daphne, Draco, and Ron were zigzagging, passing, throwing, and communicating quickly as they took possession of the quaffle. They actually seemed to be just as coordinated as the Gryffindors who had been playing together for years. Ron smacked the quaffle out of Alicia’s hands, letting it drop to Daphne’s waiting arms, who then dipped to the left and threw it to Draco and Draco quickly scored the first goal for Slytherin.

“GO DRACO!!” Luna jumped to her feet and waved her giant green snake flag, ignoring the boos from the Gryffindors that surrounded them.

Draco peeked over at them from his spot in the air and Susan grinned to see the broad smile on his face.

Susan, personally, thought that Draco and Luna were the absolute cutest couple. They were both blonde haired and grey eyed. Draco’s eyes were darker, more like steel. And Luna’s were as bright and sparkling as the mist. But more than their similarities, it was their differences that made them so damned sweet.

Draco was too stiff sometimes, too proper. Luna was like some magical forest fairy, she was just drifting through life with airy optimism. Draco was terrible at sharing his thoughts and feelings, and Luna shared every emotion she had at the moment she had it.

Susan had used to worry about Luna, worry that her airy demeanor was just a way to keep herself from being hurt by rejection, but the last couple of years Susan really thought she found herself.

And it was beautiful.

And Draco was a good person who deserved someone as amazing as Luna by his side.

They just seemed so natural together. They brought out the best in each other. Draco never laughed as freely as he did when Luna was around, and Luna would stay focused on entire conversations if Draco was the one involved in them.

Susan personally couldn’t wait for the wedding, she wanted to be the maid of honor. Especially because she was sure Draco would make Harry the best man.

But she needed to keep her eye on the current prize.

“Look at Harry go!” she cheered loudly as it looked like Harry was about to fall in to another feint. “Did he spot the snitch??”

“I think so!” Lavender cried from beside her. “Look! Ginny’s following him!”

Harry was streaking to the ground in a dramatic dive. Susan knew he was just showing off for the recruiter that he didn’t even know for sure was there, but it was still funny to her how theatric he was on the field.

“GINNY WEASLEY YOU AREN’T A FIRST YEAR! YOU KNOW POTTER FEINTS!!” Lee Jordan yelled from the commenter box.

Ginny either didn’t hear Jordan’s comment or thought he was wrong, because she streaked after Harry allllllll the way-

“TO THE GROUND!!!” Susan jumped up and screamed as Ginny crashed in the dirt and Harry did backflips and barrel rolls back up to the sky.

“POTTER PULLS OFF ANOTHER PERFECT FEINT!” Jordan yelled to the cheers of the Slytherin’s and the boos of the Gryffindor’s. “THE SCORE IS STILL TIED AT 20-20 THOUGH!”

Susan glanced down at the recruiter in the row in front of them and was happy to see that his eyes were glued to Harry. She turned her own attention back to the sky and watched as Harry flew over to Ron and said something before zooming back up above the others to search for the snitch. It wasn’t long before Draco scored another two goals with Ron and Daphne’s assistance.

“Draco’s flying great,” she said to a beaming Luna. “This might be his best game yet.”

“Remember the game in third year?” Theo leaned forward to say. “When Draco was the only one to score before Harry caught the snitch? I think that was his best game.”

“That’s probably why Harry asked Professor Snape if he really had to add players or if he could just be a two man team,” Neville laughed. “Harry’s a cocky bastard.”

“It’s easy for him to be cocky when he’s the best,” Susan said.

“I think Ginny’s very good,” Lavender said. “But...” she smiled wryly with a little shrug, “probably not as good as Harry.”

“No ones as good as Harry,” Hermione said stoutly.

The recruiter was scribbling like mad without even looking away from Harry and Susan could not be more pleased.

“AND GREENGRASS, THE FIRST GIRL ON THE SLYTHERIN TEAM IN OVER TWENTY YEARS, TAKES POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE AND SHE- OOOH, TAKES A NASTY BLUDGER FROM EITHER FRED OR GEORGE AND KATIE BELL TAKES POSSESSION!”

Susan saw as Harry zoomed over to Daphne, his face was difficult to make out from here, but she thought he looked concerned and irritated. Daphne looked miserable and determined to keep flying despite the way her arm didn’t look quite right.

“IS HE ALLOWED TO HEAL HIS PLAYERS DURING THE GAME?!” Jordan howled after Harry very obviously grabbed Daphne’s arm and fixed whatever Fred (honestly the way everyone acted like those boys were identical was so annoying) broke. “HOW DO WE KNOW HE DIDN’T GIVE HER SOME SORT OF STAMINA BOOST OR SOMETHING?”

Harry flipped Jordan off before zooming away, which did cause Madame Hooch to blow her whistle.

“Penalty shot to Gryffindor for unsportsmanlike conduct by Captain Potter!” she yelled. “And there is no rule against wandless healing spells on the game clock!”

“Probably because they didn’t know they’d need one,” Blaise laughed. “It’ll be changed by next year.”

“I wonder if professional teams let their seekers silently and wandlessly heal their teammates if they’re injured during a game,” Susan mused loudly.

“There’s no rule against it,” the man in front of them murmured without taking his eyes off the sky.

Susan turned to her friends and they all shared the same eager look in their eyes.

There was no way that this man wasn’t recruiting Harry.

The question would be of how good of an offer he’d come up with.

The game went on, and it was proof of why Slytherin and Gryffindor always opened the season at Hogwarts. They were the biggest rivals, they played the hardest, and they were the most exciting to watch.

Susan and Hermione snickered at one point when Fred hit a bludger directly at Harry’s head, causing Harry to roll his eyes even as he grinned.

”I can’t wait for them to get over their nonsense,” Hermione whispered. “It’s soo obvious.”

Susan didn’t agree with many things Hermione said, but she definitely agreed with her there.

They had all been exasperated by Harry’s determination to make Fred jealous with Romilda Vane. Which was ridiculous, because Romilda was pushy, and needy, and only liked Harry because he was famous. She didn’t even know anything about him. She had spent the entire time in the Three Broomsticks just trying to use her chest to catch Harry’s attention.

And Susan was all for freedom to express yourself, but she also knew there was a time and a place and the middle of a crowded pub was not the place.

She carefully looked around the Gryffindor stands until she saw Romilda, who was pouting from her seat in the back. Which was ridiculous, because even though Harry had been a bit of a dick to use her to make Fred jealous, he’d also sent her apology/ ‘let’s be friends’ flowers Monday morning in the middle of the Great Hall.

Which was probably the kindest thing Harry had ever done for someone who wasn’t in their gang, which meant it was probably Snape’s idea.

Susan, personally and privately, having only shared this thought with Luna, thought that Snape was a secret romantic. He had tall, dark, mysterious, and brooding down to a bloody precise formula. And the way the Daily Prophet went on about him back in their second year? Who wouldn’t find it terribly sweet that Snape was best friends with Harry’s mum and turned spy because he wanted to protect her? And the way he fights for her Harry all the time?

Ugh.

It was no wonder that Tonks spent most of her time patrolling the dungeons. Susan would too if she was just a few years older.

Susan turned back to the game and thought that Harry must have decided to drag the game out a bit, because he usually caught the snitch before the scores got too high. But it was already 80-100 by the time Harry did the most dramatic race across the pitch towards the stands where they were seated.

“IT LOOKS LIKE POTTER IS AFTER THE SNITCH!” Jordan yelled again.

Susan thought it was wildly unfair that Jordan always announced when Harry was after the snitch, but not when the other seekers were. The bias against Slytherin was ridiculous. It was no wonder they’d already recruited 20 kids to the gang, Harry was one of the few people that everyone knew didn’t hold any house grudges.

Unless it came to quidditch.

Harry was speeding to the spot just above the commenters box, where if Susan squinted she was pretty sure she could see little flashes of gold.

“COME ON HARRY!” she yelled. “GO GO GO!”

Her friends were all on their feet, screaming and shouting at Harry. Lavender was yelling for Ginny to catch up, but Susan didn’t hold it against her.

Because it didn’t matter.

“AND POTTER CATCHES THE GOLDEN SNITCH, ENDING THE MATCH! SLYTHERIN WINS 230-100.” Jordan sounded disappointed, which was fine. Because Harry flew right past them, right past the recruiter, and held the golden snitch high in the air with a broad smile on his face.

“Harry always wins,” Susan said smugly. “He’s brilliant. It’s no wonder Viktor Krum begged him to join his team.”

The man in front of her finally turned around, and Susan could now see the little tornado logo on his navy hat.

“Excuse me Miss.” He had a gruff voice that matched his whole bearded Viking aesthetic nicely. “Did you say that Viktor Krum, from the Bulgarian National team, asked Potter to join his team?”

“Oh everyone knows that,” Lavender giggled. “Harry and Krum flew together all the time last year, it drove Fred crazy! He was always whining about how Krum was trying to steal Harry away to Bulgaria.”

Susan could have kissed Lavender in that moment. Annoying giggles be damned.

“Really?” the man’s eyes lit up and he offered Susan and Lavender each his hand. “Pleasure ladies, if you’ll excuse me.”

“How soon will Harry get the letter?” Susan asked Luna as soon as the recruiter was far enough down the stairs that he couldn’t hear her.

Luna hummed and squinted up at the clouds thoughtfully. “By the end of the week,” she said with confidence.

“Nobody tell him!” Susan instructed everyone harshly. “Let it be a surprise.”

“Because Harry seems so fond of surprises,” Theo rolled his eyes, but he looked just as pleased as Susan was.

“What are we waiting for?” Neville laughed. “Let’s go celebrate!!”

Susan almost forgot her side mission until she was partially down the stairs, caught up in the momentum of her friends’ joy.

“Later Lavender,” she winked at her over her shoulder before rushing off to go find her boys.

Harry’s team were all in a group huddle over near the Slytherin locker rooms, which is where Susan and the rest of her friends all headed. But on the way Susan passed Fred, who was walking slowly towards the castle, obviously lagging hoping for a chance to talk to Harry.

Harry better appreciate her because Susan didn’t even really like Fred.

“Party in the common room,” she told him. “You coming?”

“Me?” Fred looked surprised, which was honestly so insulting. Just because Susan thought he was annoying didn’t mean she couldn’t see how much Harry liked being with him. And she knew it had been unfair to Fred how Harry ended their relationship.

She could understand Harry’s thought process. But, like her Auntie told her once when she was complaining about a coworker she tried dating when Susan was little: just because it was logical, didn’t mean it was right.

“No, your twin,” Susan rolled her eyes. “Yes you, idiot.”

Fred gave her a tentative smile, as if unsure if she was joking or not. “Want me to bring Lavender?” he asked.

“Yes please.”

Susan didn’t always hate Fred.

Just usually.

She caught up with her friends though and threw her arms around Harry tightly. “Way to go!!” she cheered.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, but it didn’t seem like a good one.

“What’s wrong?” she frowned at Harry’s fake smile. She hated his fake smile.

“Nothing, I just... I thought- maybe...” Harry shook his head and pushed his glasses up. “Nevermind,” he said. He threw an arm over Susan’s shoulder and smiled at his teammates. “Let’s go celebrate!”

It took until they were nearly to the dungeons that she realized Harry must not have noticed the recruiter sitting in the stands in front of them. She shared a sly smile with Luna.

She couldn’t wait for Harry to get that letter.

Chapter Text

Monday November 1st

“Mister Potter, are you even paying attention?”

Harry looked up from the notes he was frantically making for tonight and gave Professor Grubbly-Plank a polite smile. “No ma’am.”

What was the point? She had brought unicorns to class, which everyone had been really excited for and then said unicorns are afraid of boys, even though they clearly liked Draco. And then, embarrassingly, when Harry had tried to pet one of them it bit his hand!

Which was, apparently, ‘a rather extreme reaction from such a gentle creature’.

Harry couldn’t wait to drop Care of Magical Creature after this year. He was sick of everyone seeing how much animals hated him. It almost made him miss Hagrid, who was supposedly on sick leave, but the gang all knew he was out trying to reach a deal with the giants for Dumbledore’s gang.

At least the skrewts had liked him.

Grubbly-Plank squinted at Harry suspiciously through her thick glasses. “Well pay attention.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said. He waited until she was distracted by the group of students inside the paddock with the unicorns before he snorted and went back to his papers. The first meeting of the DADA Club was a bit more important than watching everyone else feed apples and hay to a bunch of hateful unicorns.

He looked back at his list and sighed. Never again would he let his friends talk him into doing something mad like this again. Sometimes he had the thought that he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. Five years ago there couldn’t have been a guilt trip strong enough to make him do something he didn’t want to. And look at him now- building ‘lesson plans’ like a bloody swot.

Though, when he was honest with himself, he knew that he’d been excited to lead a club right up until he saw the final list of signups this morning.

He didn’t even know that Hogwarts had that many students.

And now he had to find something to focus on tonight for their first meeting that he could teach.

Which was much harder than it sounded when there were students from first to seventh year all signed up. What could he teach a seventh year that wouldn’t be too difficult for a first year? And what could he show the younger kids that the older ones didn’t already know?

He’d played with the idea of teaching them all to find their core and channel it through their hands, but Ron had reminded him that since it was a school approved club he had to let people in who weren’t necessarily on his side. And it would be the stupidest thing he’d ever done to actively teach potential enemies such a skill.

Susan had been entirely unsympathetic to his dilemma and told him to just set up duels. But Harry remembered how quickly that went sideways from when Snape and Lockhart tried to run a Dueling Club his second year.

Bombarda?

Confundus?

Imperio?

It was sort of bullshit that Barty got to teach them all to throw off an Unforgivable, but Harry would probably be expelled for teaching them how to cast it.

As if it wouldn’t save their life when it came down to it. Death Eaters weren’t going to fight fairly, why should anyone else?

Harry was still pondering over what to show the students who came to the meeting tonight during dinner. He finally let out a huff and turned to Hermione. “What the fuck am I supposed to teach them all?”

Hermione looked surprised at his abrupt question and raised her brows. “Whatever spell you think is most useful for defense,” she said. “A good spell that could save their lives.”

“A legal spell,” Theo said hastily when Harry opened his mouth. “A good, legal, spell that could save their lives in a fight.”

“Don’t you mean something that’ll come up on the OWL’s?” Ron asked with a pointed smirk.

“No I do not,” Hermione said hotly. “I wouldn’t even care if it was a first year spell. I think teaching kids to defend themselves is more important than tests, don’t you?”

Every single person in their gang, and probably some eavesdropping Slytherin students, gaped in disbelief at Hermione.

“What?” she said defensively. “It’s true.”

“Well yeah,” Blaise waved his fork at Hermione. “But we didn’t expect you to think so.”

“I’m more than just my test grades,” Hermione sniffed.

“She’s also the amount of books she’s read,” Draco murmured, causing Susan to chuckle and Luna to tsk disapprovingly.

“Hermione’s right though,” Neville said slowly. “The whole point of learning defense is to defend yourself. So just teach them something they can use to defend themselves.”

“But not something that’ll help them kill you if they join Dumbledore or Timmy,” Susan added.

“And nothing that’ll get you arrested,” Theo said seriously.

“Ta, guys. Fuckin ta,” Harry groaned.

Because that was super helpful advice.

The nine of them cleared out of the Great Hall as soon as they were done eating, as did many other students. The students were congregating in the Entrance Hall, waiting for dinner to be over and the tables cleared away so the meeting could be held back in the Great Hall.

They had planned on using an empty classroom on the third floor, right up until they saw how many people had signed up.

“I’m gonna...” Harry hesitated while he tried to think of an excuse before shrugging. “I’ll be back,” he told his friends. He turned on his heel and attempted to run as quickly towards the dungeons as he could without looking like he was running. It wouldn’t do him any good if people knew he was nervous about tonight, then he’d just look like a prat who didn’t know how to be in charge. Which isn’t what this was. There just seemed to be a lot more constraints on his ability to lead a club than there was his ability to lead a gang.

Harry (not ‘frantically’ just... quickly) knocked on Snape’s office door before throwing it open and sticking his head in.

“Sev!” Harry yelled from the doorway. “What spell do I teach tonight?”

“Shield charm,” Snape said immediately.

“Brill! Thanks!”

Harry was already slamming the door shut behind him when Snape called his name.

“Yeah?” he poked his head back in the office, trying to keep a level tone.

“Breathe,” Snape said. “You are a natural and gifted leader. You will be fine. Good luck brat.”

Harry attempted a confident smile, but he was pretty sure it wound up just being a terrible grimace.

A grimace that only deepened when he was standing on the platform where the head table usually sat and looking out over the hall.

Apart from a good half of the Gryffindor’s, the ones Harry knows started their own club despite it technically not being allowed anymore, it seemed as if most of the rest of the castle came out to watch.

“Pretend they’re water gnats and you’re a blueberry cobbler,” Luna leaned forward and whispered in what may be the most peculiar advice ever. It did startle a laugh from Harry though which gave him the confidence to start the meeting.

“If you’re here it’s because you wanna learn defense.” Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and let his eyes wander around the room as he catalogued names and faces of the crowd. “If you just want help with homework or some sort of tutoring, talk to her,” Harry nodded his head in Hermione’s direction behind him. “If you want to actually learn to survive outside of the castle, then I’ll help. But-“

“Why?”

Harry looked around the crowd until he spotted the girl who spoke up. It wasn’t someone he knew, just an older girl in Ravenclaw robes. “Why what?” he asked her.

“Why are you helping us?” she clarified.

“Because Harry’s the best student in the castle at defense.”

“And offense too.”

Harry sent a quick, confused, but appreciative, look towards Fred and George, who were lounging against the stone wall. Fred winked at him, and Harry had to will himself to not blush and to focus on this.

Why was Fred winking at him?

Did he want to get back together? He said at the party last night he wanted to be friends, but does he wink at all his friends?

Focus.

“They’re right,” Harry said with a shrug and a half-smile. “I am the best.”

The girl, who Harry had been prepared to hate, actually smirked back after she rolled her eyes. “I know that,” she said. “I’m asking why you’re helping us. What’s in it for you?”

“Harry’s got big dreams of becoming the defense professor one day and this is going to look excellent on his application,” Blaise said sarcastically. Several students snickered, but a few looked terrified.

As if Harry would ever want to sit around grading papers all day. He didn’t know how or why Snape did it.

“Does it matter why I’m doing it?” Harry raised his brows. “Or can we get started?”

Nobody said anything else so Harry went ahead and pulled out his wand. “This is an easy spell that could save your life if it’s done right, yeah? Protego!”

Harry’s chest seemed to puff out on its own at the surprised and impressed gasps of the students in the crowd. “This—“ Harry gestured to the corporeal dark purple shield beside him, “—is what you want. So find some space and start. If you need help just put your hand up or something and one of us will help you.”

Harry jumped down from the raised platform and waited as everyone seemed to just stare at his still visible shield.

“Sometime today,” he drawled loudly, triggering students in to action.

The hour passed by quickly after that.

Harry edged around the room, vigilantly keeping an eye on the wands that were being waved closest to him, and offered comments here and there.

“It’s not fu- it’s not like that,” Harry grit out with as much patience as he could. “Look-“ Harry demonstrated the wand movement again for the fourth year who was just twirling his wand like an idiot.

“‘Protego,’” Harry said clearly to a lispy first year. “I dunno what ‘protecto’ is meant to do, but it doesn’t seem to work, does it?”

“Why... why don’t you have your wand out?” Harry asked Bailey once he came up to his group of second year Slytherin’s.

“I’m trying to cast like you do,” Bailey said with an earnest smile. “Watch!”

Harry cocked his head to the side as Bailey’s brows furrowed and his green eyes screwed up behind his glasses.

“Protego!” the small boy yelled with a wild windmill motion with his arms.

Harry, in what was the largest amount of restraint he had ever shown, did not laugh.

“Not like that,” he told him. “Use your wand for now and find me later to talk about wandless magic, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Bailey’s responding smile was so excited that Harry couldn’t help but smile a bit as well.

Why wasn’t everyone as easy to please as Trent Bailey?

Harry waited until Bailey and his little group of friends began the spell before he moved along to the next hand in the air.

“D’you actually need help?” he asked Fred once he got to where he and George were with both their hands raised high.

“I do,” Fred said seriously. “I want a purple shield like yours, but every time I do this—“ Fred muttered something and waved his wand in a circular motion, “this happens!”

Harry’s lips twitched at the bouquet of pink flowers that Fred conjured. “If you’re mixing up a shield charm, with a conjuring spell, I don’t think I can help you, can I?”

“Probably not,” Fred smiled. “But here, you should have these anyway.”

Harry had no idea what he was meant to do with an armful of...

“What are these anyway?”

“Bluebells,” Fred winked. “We’ll just keep working on our shields.”

Harry shook his head at that abrupt dismissal and felt like a bit of a prat with an armful of flowers. He focused on his bedside table before pulling on his magic and sending the flowers there with a light tap.

He spent the remainder of his time either sidestepping people who just wanted to talk to him or stopping to help people who actually wanted to learn something.

And, when there was only a few minutes left of the allotted hour, he got back on the platform and whistled loudly for attention.

“Good work everyone.”

It hadn’t been. A lot of people didn’t even get a shadowy shield to form. But Harry knew people liked to be complimented, so he said it anyway.

“I’ll have something different for you when we meet again in two weeks. So keep practicing your shields and I’ll see you on November 15, same time, same place.”

What that ‘something different’ would be, Harry had no idea.

Nobody seemed to guess at his thought though as they broke off in to large groups and chattered happily about the club.

“Harry! That was great!” Hermione was bouncing on the balls of her feet as Harry’s friends crowded around where he stood. “Hardly anyone said anything negative at all!”

“Who said anything negative?” Susan asked her quickly.

“Um...” Hermione glanced at Theo, who sighed.

“A few of the older students were complaining about the easy spell, but they shut up quick once we pointed out that their shield was nothing but mist.”

“Idiots,” Draco scoffed.

“I thought you did amazing,” Luna smiled brightly up at Harry. “And your next meeting will be even better.”

“Ta Lue.” Harry followed his own friends towards the exit, taking their time so they weren’t crowded by the other students who were still hanging around.

“Hey, Harry.”

Harry raised a brow at Blaise’s whisper and fell back a step to get beside him. “What?”

Blaise tilted his head towards Harry’s, and his voice was barely a whisper. “Dumbledore stopped by.”

Harry curled his lip up to hide the sudden swoop of unease that he felt in his stomach. “For what?” he breathed.

“I don’t know. He just stood in the doorway and watched when you were helping the other students. Then he left.”

Harry nodded his head for Blaise’s information and pondered it as he walked down to the dungeons.

What possible reason would Dumbledore have for coming and silently watching their club meeting?

He didn’t know why he would bother, but he didn’t like it.

He especially didn’t like the sudden increase in times he saw Dumbledore around the school.

After descending Trelawney’s ladder on Tuesday morning, there was a flash of a glittering blue robe before someone shimmered away in to invisibility.

Dumbledore’s eyes were on Harry during lunch that same day, never wavering.

A cheerful ‘hello’ in the corridor when Harry was headed to transfiguration.

He was pretty sure he had even seen him in the stands briefly during his teams practice that night.

It was making Harry paranoid and nervous.

What was driving Dumbledore to stalk him around the school?

On Wednesday, Harry grabbed his knife from Sirius and put it in the holster on his forearm. He put two throwing stars and his red penknife in his robe pockets as well, wanting to be as prepared as possible in case Dumbledore decided to outright attack him.

He hadn’t planned on killing Dumbledore this year, but he would if he forced his hand.

His friends were confused by his jerky movements and increasing levels of vigilance for every conversation and move they made that day, but as they weren’t being stalked by the fuckin Headmaster he figured they’d get over it.

Harry didn’t see much of Dumbledore Wednesday, but that only increased his paranoia.

Why follow him around all day Tuesday then ignore him Wednesday? Did he find what he was looking for? Was he trying to lull Harry in to a false sense of security?

Harry couldn’t figure out his game.

It wasn’t until his patrol with Hermione that night that he encountered Dumbledore again. The two of them were quietly bashing Umbridge, both disgusted and disturbed by her simpering smiles and coy words every time she was within ten feet of Harry.

“I think you should tell Professor Snape,” Hermione said after they checked the owlery for any student outside their bed past curfew. “He could talk to her about it.”

“I’m not telling Snape that the defense teacher is a creep,” Harry scowled. “He’d just-“

“Be very pleased you told him and take it quite seriously, I’m sure.”

Harry pulled up short and stepped in front of Hermione just as quickly as he flicked his dagger handle in to his right hand.

He had been trying to lull Harry in to a false sense of security. And Harry was pissed as hell that it had worked. Because as soon as they closed the door behind them, Dumbledore had appeared practically out of thin air in front of them.

“I’m sorry to startle you Harry,” Dumbledore smiled. “I was just hoping I could speak with you for a moment.”

Harry checked the corridor they were in quickly and felt his panic rise as he realized that either they had to back up back in to the owlery (which had no alternative exit) or find a way to dart past Dumbledore.

“I’m doing patrols,” Harry said as calmly as he could.

Never let an enemy sense your fear.

Better yet- don’t have fear for an enemy.

“I’ll walk with you then,” Dumbledore said. He tilted his head a bit to get a better view of Hermione, who Harry was firmly keeping behind himself. “If Miss Granger would like to join us, she’s more than welcome.”

This was an ambush.

An ambush that Harry had so stupidly walked right in to.

“Of course.” Harry straightened up and smiled politely. “We were just finishing up, I’m headed to the Ravenclaw Tower now.” Harry ignored Hermione’s quiet huff of indignation. If Dumbledore tried anything, Harry couldn’t afford to have Hermione get in the way.

“Lovely!” Dumbledore’s smile somehow managed to increase. “After you both then.” He turned and gestured grandly down the corridor.

Harry moved so that Hermione could go in front of him so he could keep an eye on both her and Dumbledore at the same time. Hermione narrowed her eyes silently at Dumbledore as she slowly took the lead back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Harry remained two steps behind her and could feel his blood pounding when Dumbledore casually kept pace beside him.

“So! Harry! How has this year been for you?”

“Fine, sir,” Harry said.

“Much better than last year I assume?” Dumbledore chuckled.

“Not really.” Harry really, really, didn’t want to be carrying on a conversation with Dumbledore, but this was a man with too much power to simply turn his back on.

Dumbledore was an enemy who told Barty last year that Harry surviving a fight with Timmy ‘wasn’t his concern’. Harry was pretty sure that was easily translated to: ‘I hope he dies’.

Apparently he was no longer needed as a Timmy shield and Dumbledore was ready for a Harry Potter-free world. Which was a shame, because Harry had no intention of dying any time soon.

“I wanted to speak with you some more about last year,” Dumbledore told Harry, entirely ignoring Hermione’s presence in front of them. “I understand why you said what you said. It was clever, the way you played the Minister just right.”

Harry hummed as he pretended to misunderstand him. “‘M not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Well,” Dumbledore chuckled again-

Which was both annoying and ominous.

“It isn’t your name being torn apart in the papers, is it?”

“Harry doesn’t control the newspapers,” Hermione sneered from in front of them.

“Of course not.” Dumbledore’s voice was still gentle, but Harry saw the flash of emotion in his eyes.

Dumbledore clearly didn’t like being interrupted.

“I was simply saying that it was a cunning lie,” Dumbledore went on. “I wish you would have been honest, of course, but I can see now why you said what you said.”

Harry hummed again, and felt nothing but relief as they turned in to the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw Tower. Hermione gave him a beseeching look, but Harry quickly shifted his eyes from side to side.

Harry might stand a chance if Dumbledore attacked if he didn’t have to watch out for Hermione. Hermione was a genius, but she wasn’t a strong dueler.

He was struck with a sudden question-

Had Dumbledore intentionally waited to ambush him on a night he knew he would be with Hermione and not Susan?

Harry wouldn’t put it past him.

“Harry?”

Harry glanced up at Dumbledore. “Yes sir?”

Dumbledore’s smile was kind, and gentle, and fake. “I said don’t you think the time to tell the truth is here now? When people can prepare to protect themselves from Voldemort? Just as you are teaching the students to do?”

Harry mentally counted how many steps until Hermione could enter the tower.

Thirteen.

“I think people are preparing to protect themselves, aren’t they?” Harry said lightly.

Eleven.

“Voldemort’s a more feared and powerful wizard than Barty Crouch,” Dumbledore argued.

“Barty Crouch fooled you, didn’t he?” Harry asked.

“He did,” Dumbledore admitted. Harry could hear the annoyance in his tone at having to say it. “But if the threat of Voldemort isn’t taken seriously then people could get hurt Harry, they could die.”

Five.

“I suppose someone should do something about that.”

Hermione gave Harry another panicked look as they pulled up next to the Ravenclaw Tower. Harry just blinked at her and willed her to just go inside.

“Goodnight Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said with both false cheer and as an obvious dismissal. “Have a pleasant rest of your week.”

Hermione bit her lip as she watched Harry for a moment before darting forward and hugging him. “Scream if he tries anything,” she breathed directly in his ear. “Tell the portraits to get Snape.”

“Night Mione,” Harry said casually as Hermione pulled off him. “I’ll see you at breakfast like usual.”

And if he wasn’t there, at least Hermione would know who was to blame.

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs together and inspected the corridor ceiling while Harry waited for Hermione to answer her riddle and get in the common room. As soon as the tower door closed behind her, he planted his feet to the ground and turned a hard look on the headmaster.

“I said what I said and I’m not saying anything different now,” he said shortly. His fingers were wrapped tightly around his dagger handle as he glared up in Dumbledore’s cool blue eyes. He didn’t need to hold up pretenses anymore. Hermione was gone and, as Snape said, the lines had been drawn last year. “What did you really want to talk to me about?”

“I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I am not your enemy Harry.”

“Must have gotten confused when you expelled me,” Harry sneered. “Or when you took me from my godfather and dropped me off with the Dursley’s.”

“Harry, I truly never meant for your life to be so difficult,” Dumbledore said.

If Harry didn’t have such an inherent distrust of every word the man said he would almost believe him.

“I have always wanted the best for you.”

“Well you did a shit job, didn’t you?” Harry spat. “So what do you want from me now?”

Dumbledore seemed to sense that his empty platitudes were getting him nowhere because he drew himself up and studied Harry closely over the top of his half moon spectacles.

“Has Sirius told you of the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Sirius didn’t,” Harry said with partial honesty. “But yeah, I know about your gang.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to know how to respond to that for a moment because his scrutiny only increased. “I would like to offer you an invitation to join.”

“No thanks,” Harry laughed coolly. “I’m not taking orders from anyone.”

“I see.” Dumbledore’s sudden frown had Harry drawing up on his magic, he had to be prepared in case he decided to attack any second. “And if Voldemort were to offer you a position within his ranks?”

“I’d tell him to fuck off too,” Harry said. “If that’s all?”

“It is not,” Dumbledore said. He stared right in Harry’s eyes as he asked his next question. “Have you been having any odd dreams? Visions? Pain in your scar?”

“No,” Harry lied forcefully. “I haven’t.”

How did he know?

Harry carefully checked his occlumency shields as Dumbledore gave him a disbelieving look.

“Are we done now?” Harry asked rudely.

“We are,” Dumbledore said with a note of finality. “I regret where we stand.”

That didn’t seem to need a reply, so Harry nodded and began backing away carefully.

“Oh, Harry?”

Harry paused with his back to the wall. “Yes?”

Dumbledore wasn’t even pretending to smile anymore as he looked down his crooked nose at Harry. “I was surprised you didn’t ask me why I chose you as prefect.”

Harry ran his thumb reassuringly over the handle of the dagger hidden in his right hand. “Snape chose me.”

“No,” Dumbledore let out a huff of a laugh. A mirthless laugh that put Harry on an edge so sharp he could nearly scream. “Severus didn’t choose you, he chose Theodore Nott. I selected you instead. I had hoped that it would endear me to you in some way. I can see I was mistaken. Goodnight.”

This time it was Dumbledore who stupidly turned his back to Harry and casually strode back down the opposite end of the corridor.

Harry didn’t move for a long moment. He just stood in the corridor with his back to the wall as he considered the entire conversation.

What the fuck?

It took Harry twice the usual time to get back to the Slytherin rooms, as he kept peering around corners and kept his back to the walls. But when he did, he immediately got his pensieve out of his trunk and warded his bed for privacy. He carefully pulled the memory from his mind, as Snape had shown him to do, and put it in the bowl.

He double checked his spells for privacy before plunging in the memory to rewatch the obviously planned ambush and the confusing conversation that followed it.

None of it made any sense. Dumbledore didn’t seem surprised that Harry refused to change his story about Timmy coming back. He didn’t seem upset that Harry didn’t want to join the Order. He did look insultingly relieved that Harry wasn’t going to join Timmy’s gang either though, as if Harry would bow down to him.

Timmy had his chance to be partners, but since he didn’t want to be equals then they would be enemies.

Harry planned on reminding him of that when he killed him.

But...

“There,” Harry said aloud to himself. He watched the intensity in Dumbledore’s eyes increase tenfold when he asked Harry about any odd dreams or visions or pains in his scar. “How the fuck did he know?” he murmured.

Timmy had been trying to break in to Harry’s mind with increasing desperation since the second week of school. Every couple of days it was the same thing- Harry would get a sharp pain behind his scar and he would have to throw up every mental shield he had. It happened at night too, to the point where Harry wouldn’t even close his eyes without clearing his mind and putting up his barriers. Barriers that he had to immediately disassemble the next morning lest he cut off access to his emotions and his magic again.

But how did Dumbledore know that?

Harry watched the rest of the interaction again, and ignored the pang in his chest as he read the honesty in Dumbledore’s eyes and voice when he said Snape didn’t choose him as prefect.

Snape had lied.

Which was surprising. Especially since he was the one always on about the two of them being honest with each other.

’You made me prefect?’

‘It certainly seems so.’

‘Not anyone else?’

‘You are the male prefect.’

Okay. Maybe Snape hadn’t explicitly lied to him. But he hadn’t exactly been upfront either, had he?

Harry stored the pensieve and the now bottled memory back in his trunk and stared up at the ceiling as he thought it all over.

When his scar twinged only a couple of hours later, Harry scrunched his nose up and tried to think back as fiercely as he could: fuck off.

Anything Timmy was doing that was making Dumbledore take an interest in him had to be a bad thing.

Harry just wished he knew what it meant.

He did come to a decision that night though. An easy decision that he enacted the very next morning at breakfast.

“Hey Theo?”

Harry looked up at the Head Table and caught Snape’s curious eyes for a moment before moving his own angry ones over to Dumbledore’s cold blue eyes.

“Here.” Harry unpinned the prefect badge from his chest and slid it across the table to Theo without ever breaking eye contact with Dumbledore. “That’s yours. I don’t fuckin’ want it.”

Chapter Text

Friday November 5th

Dear Mister Potter,
We at the Tutshill Tornados were deeply impressed with your recent match at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and are pleased to offer you a position within our team!
If you accept, this is what we can offer you as a Tornado:
- An understudy position next season beneath our current first string seeker. This position pays 20,000 galleons for the season and 5% from all merchandising sales that use your name or likeness.
- If we are happy with your training as an understudy, we can offer you the reserve seeker position the next season. This position pays 65,000 galleons for the season and offers 15% from all merchandise sales that use your name or likeness.
- And if you are happy with our team, and our captain and manger both are amendable, the next season we would like to offer you a first string position as seeker. First string players earn 80,000 galleons for the season and 20% from all merchandise sales that use your name or likeness.
If this sounds like an acceptable offer to you please write to our team manager, Cameron Bayless, with acceptance of your position and a letter from your headmaster agreeing to allow you to join our training sessions next year twice a week from January to April with game dates (to be determined) running from May to August.
Thank you very much for your interest with our team and we look forward to seeing you fly in our skies!

Harry kept his expression perfectly blank as he read over the letter that the recruiter for the Tutshill Tornados sent him. He tried to keep the crushing disappointment pushed down as he reread it. He hadn’t even known that any recruiters came to his game.

An understudy position his sixth year. A reserve spot his seventh.

Viktor had been first string the season before he turned seventeen. And Harry wouldn’t be able to until he was eighteen.

He reread the bit about needing permission from his headmaster to attend training sessions and games and actually had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud.

This is what he gets for all but telling Dumbledore to fuck off Wednesday night.

“Harry? Is it good news?” Susan asked gently from beside him.

“Dunno.” Harry handed her the letter and pushed his still full plate away from him.

“Oh my god,” Susan’s hands were shaking from excitement as she read it. “He did it!” she told the others. “The Tutshill Tornado’s want him on their team!!”

Harry didn’t cringe while his friends congratulated him, but it was close. “Ta,” he said. “Understudy Potter has such a brill ring to it.”

“Only for a season,” Ron said bracingly. “Then you’ll be Seeker Potter.”

“Reserve Seeker Potter,” Harry corrected him.

“You’re not happy?” Neville asked him quietly. “Why? Harry, this is amazing!”

“I just...” Harry sighed and swallowed down his complaint. He grabbed the letter back from Susan and stuffed it in his pocket. “Dumbledore will never agree.”

“If he’s still headmaster by next year,” Draco whispered, referring to Umbridge’s plan to get Dumbledore fired.

Her most recent idea consisted of finding the illegal defense club of Gryffindor’s and somehow using it as leverage to fire Dumbledore. Which was ridiculous, but Harry would be happy to see him go.

“Or still breathing,” Susan said sweetly, referring to her own plan to kill Dumbledore. A plan which only strengthened after Harry and Hermione told the gang about their ambush from the other night.

“We’ll see,” Harry said flatly. The way life was going for him lately, he doubted if he’d ever be free of Dumbledore. “I’m gonna head to class, I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

Harry didn’t want to complain, not to his friends anyway, but when he thought about the letter in his pocket, he was actually unhappy about the letter.

He really thought he was better than that. From the very first time he got on a broom, back in his first year flying class, everyone told him he was a gifted and talented flier. It was one of only two things that Harry was good at.

Madame Hooch said it. Draco said it. Sirius said it. Lupin said it. Flint said it. Fred said it. The damn Gryffindor quidditch captain had said it. Even Snape said it.

Of course... Harry slammed his bag down on his transfiguration desk. Snape also implied that he’d chosen him as prefect. So maybe he shouldn’t have listened to him about the flying thing either.

Because the recruiter clearly didn’t agree.

“Mister Potter, you’re here early.”

Harry looked up through his fringe to see McGonagall entering the classroom through her office door.

“Yes ma’am,” he said politely. “I can wait in the corridor if you’d like?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” McGonagall waved her hand and gave him a tight lipped smile. “What’s on your mind?”

Harry slumped down in his seat then immediately straightened back up. “Nothing ma’am.”

McGonagall pursed her lips and gave him a scrutinizing look. “Perhaps you should try again,” she said, not unkindly. “It’s easy, just say: ‘Professor McGonagall, here’s what’s causing me to look like someone harmed my sweet little owl...’”

Harry unwillingly felt his lips curl up. “Here, I got this letter from a quidditch recruiter.” Harry leaned across his desk to hand McGonagall the letter. He waited as her eyes flicked back and forth across the parchment and finally handed it back to him.

“And you are disappointed because you believe your talents are worth more than an understudy position?” she guessed accurately.

Harry shrugged down at his desk, not wanting to admit his own stupidity.

“Harry.”

Harry peeked up at her, his face carefully blank.

“You are correct.”

Harry sorted through that comment for a moment and his shock slowly transformed to a sort of self-conscious happiness. “Really?”

McGonagall sniffed and adjusted her wire-framed glasses. “I would never lie about such a thing. If you believe, as I do, that your talents are worth more than this, then you should politely decline their offer and search for a team that appreciates you.”

Harry considered that carefully. “What if I don’t find a better offer?”

“You will,” McGonagall said with another smile. “And,” she leaned forward to speak quietly as the first of the other students began trickling in, “I believe that James would be as proud of you as Severus undoubtedly is.”

Harry thought that might have been the nicest thing that McGonagall had ever said to him.

He almost wished he’d brought up the prefect thing to her, wanting to hear her opinion on that.

Susan had brought it up last night, insisting on a sleepover in his bed.

’Why does it matter if Snape chose you or Theo?’ she asked. ‘You know he loves you.’

‘He didn’t want me to be prefect,’ Harry said. ‘He likes Theo more.’

‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’ Susan rolled her eyes. ‘He probably just thinks Theo does a better job of following the rules.’

‘He does,’ Harry admitted. ‘It’s fine that he picked him, I guess. But... why didn’t he tell me?’

‘Ask him,’ Susan said. ‘But don’t start a fight with him, I think that’s what Dumbledore wants. Snape cares about you, Dumbledore doesn’t.’

And that was pretty decent advice.

So was Theo’s input, which had been sarcastic and rude and well received.

’You killed a man on school property, I haven’t,’ he said. ‘That’s probably the only reason Snape picked me over you.’

That stupid badge looked better on Theo’s chest than it did Harry’s anyway.

Harry was planning on just ignoring the whole thing, not wanting to start an argument over something so dumb. Snape had raised his brows at Harry in class on Thursday, but since he didn’t ask, Harry didn’t offer up anything.

He didn’t even like being prefect.

After classes Harry obediently trooped down to the library with his friends, the letter in hand, prepared to do exactly what McGonagall told him to do.

“You’re turning down their offer?” Draco gasped, somehow reading Harry’s messy handwriting from across the table.

“Yep.”

“But why?” Ron asked him. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Not as a fuckin understudy,” Harry muttered.

“Who offered you an understudy position?”

How is he so sneaky?!

Fred and George were standing by their table, nearly identical smiles on their faces.

Harry was going to start putting up privacy shields for every conversation he had in the future.

“Tutshill Tornados,” he said. “I’m turning it down though.”

“Good,” Fred said seriously. “You’re better than that. Later Harry.”

Harry watched Fred and George just abruptly turn and walk away. He looked at his friends with nothing less than badly concealed surprise.

“What the fuck?”

The girls started giggling, but Harry was relieved to see that the guys looked just as confused as he was. Except Blaise, Blaise looked annoyingly amused.

“He’s playing hard to get,” Susan said with a teasing light in her eyes. “Merlin Harry.”

“How’s that hard to get?” Ron asked. “If Harry said ‘oi Fred let’s get back together’, Fred would do it.”

“Well duh,” Hermione drawled. “But he’s not going to ask Harry first this time.”

“Why??” Neville frowned. “Why not just ask Harry back out?”

“Harry is right here,” Harry scowled. “But... what Neville said. Why not just ask me out?”

“Because you ended it,” Luna said with a logical tone Harry wasn’t used to hearing from her. “He doesn’t want to pressure you.”

“Or he wants to get even by telling me to piss off if I ask him out,” Harry said.

Harry ground his teeth together when all of his friends started snickering at that.

“He won’t,” Theo said confidently. “Quit being a prat and just put him out of his misery.”

“Just for that, I’m going to be a prat even longer,” Harry smirked. He added his signature to the bottom of the refusal letter and rolled it up tightly.

He didn’t have to be a bloody understudy and he didn’t have to take orders from Theo.

Not even if he was the prefect now.

Harry was woken from his sleep, again, that night with a sharp pain in his scar.

Leave me the fuck alone, he thought hatefully. Every time you bother me is just making me want to kill you faster.

The painful probing abruptly disappeared, allowing Harry to let out a breath of relief.

Until it returned.

“Argh,” Harry hissed between his teeth as he clutched his forehead. The pain in his scar was so sharp it felt like someone was taking his dagger and driving it straight through his skull. This pain didn’t feel angry anymore, more curious now. And apparently curiosity hurt worse than anger.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” he growled. FUCKIN QUIT YOU NOSELESS DICK.

Harry kept clutching his forehead, trying fruitlessly to apply pressure to relieve the pain, until it seemed like an eternity had passed and the pain disappeared. He let out a few panting breathes and pulled his hands back- only to stare down in horror at them.

You made me bleed, he thought hatefully towards the source of where the pain had appeared from. I’m going to remember that.

What was the point in Timmy trying to dig in Harry’s mind when obviously he hadn’t been successful so far? Harry ignored all of his annoying visions, not even letting a flash of them make their way in his head. And he would feel it if Timmy made it past his barriers to access his own thoughts and memories, so what was the point?

He looked down at his hands again and scowled.

He’d probably need to go tell Snape about this. It seemed like the sort of thing that he’d be pissed if Harry didn’t share.

Harry was under his cloak, carefully making his way to Snape’s office, when he spotted Tonks leaning against a wall with her eyes closed.

Which was just the sort of thing he couldn’t resist.

Harry snuck right up behind her and leaned close to her ear, “Boo!”

He probably shouldn’t have forgotten that Tonks was a trained auror, even if she didn’t seem like it most of the time. But she certainly did when she spun around and jabbed her wand right in his throat.

“Who’s there?” she asked harshly. “Show yourself!”

“Fuck, shut up,” Harry whispered, backing up away from her wand quickly. He pulled his cloak off his head and gave her a half-smile. “It’s just me.”

“Harry?” Tonks blinked, her eyes shifting quickly from blue to green to indigo with each blink. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Er...” Harry glanced around the corridor and shook his head. He’d never trust these corridors again. “Wanna walk with me to Snape’s quarters?”

“Okay!” Tonks brightened up so quickly that Harry almost didn’t believe she’d been snoring a minute ago.

“So, what’s new with you?” Tonks asked as they walked side by side. Tonks had her wand brandished, and Harry still only had his head exposed from beneath his cloak.

He was sure they made an odd picture.

“Little of this, little of that,” Harry said evasively. “What’s new with you?”

“Same old, same old,” Tonks grinned good-naturedly down at him. “Of course I’m not bleeding from my forehead, so I’m sure your life is much more exciting.”

“It’s not,” Harry said drily.

“Lose a duel?”

“No.”

“Win a duel but still got hurt?”

“No.”

“Ron get sick of your nonsense and stab you in the forehead while you were asleep and now his red-headed body is burning to ashes in the Slytherin boys dormitory?”

Harry was so startled by her extremely specific guess that he let out a quick bark of a laugh. “No,” he told her. “God damn.”

“Well I give up then,” Tonks shrugged and gave him a pleading look. “Won’t you tell your favorite cousin?”

“Draco’s my favorite cousin,” Harry said.

Before he could even take another step, Tonks had transformed herself to an exact mimic of Draco. “Better?” she asked in Draco’s pompous manner.

Harry tried to look disapproving when he shook his head at her, but Tonks just had that same unflappable cheerfulness that Fred always had. Even back in his third year when he was trying to get rid of her to look for Sirius, she was determined to stick around and irritate him to death in the most ridiculous of ways.

“Fine,” Tonks huffed and changed back to her normal appearance, pink hair, indigo eyes, and all. “Don’t tell me. I’ll just ask Severus later.”

“‘Severus’?” Harry stopped outside the portrait entrance to Snape’s quarters and tilted his head curiously at Tonks. “Are you guys friends now?”

“Not yet, but I figure he’ll see I’m a great friend to have eventually,” Tonks winked.

Which... was bloody weird.

“Call him Sev,” Harry advised her, knowing that Tonks seemed to enjoy teasing Snape for whatever reason. “He loves it.”

“Will do,” Tonks grinned and gave him a lazy sort of two finger salute. “Enjoy your secret conversation Harry. Tell ‘Sev’ I said hi.”

“‘Kay.” Harry waited until she walked off before he whispered the password to the painting and stepped into Snape’s private sitting room.

He called Snape’s name softly, not wanting to make him think it was a real emergency. He stepped up to the door he knew was Snape’s bedroom and knocked lightly, “Sev? You up?”

Harry wasn’t even surprised when Snape’s door was abruptly thrown open and a lit wand was shoved in his face. His lack of surprise didn’t stop him from shoving it out of his face harshly though. “It’s me,” he snapped. “Don’t fuckin poke my eye out with it, yeah?”

“Are you out of your-“ Snape cut himself off and sighed heavily. “You are bleeding.”

Harry backed up so Snape could come out of his room and followed behind him to the sofas in his sitting room. “Timmy’s fault.”

Snape stopped and turned so suddenly that Harry accidentally walked right in to his chest.

“Timmy?” Snape’s eyes were wild as he looked Harry over from top to bottom. “Explain. Immediately.”

Harry scowled at the barked order. “I told you how he keeps trying to dig around in my head, yeah?”

“You did.”

“Well tonight he was... curious,” Harry said slowly. “And he dug around a bit more than usual and caused this.” He touched his forehead where it had been bleeding and quickly pulled his finger away after causing another fresh wave of pain.

Snape gestured for Harry to go sit on the sofa and went to his cabinet to get a potion. “The Dark Lord was curious about your mind? How do you know that?”

“Same way I know when he’s angry and doing it, I guess.” Harry shrugged when Snape came to his side and tilted his face up towards the light. “I can feel it.”

“Hmm.” Snape moved his chin from side to side. “It doesn’t appear to be freshly injured, merely bleeding from the old injury,” he murmured. “May I clean it?”

“No.” Harry jerked his chin away and turned his eyes to the wall behind Snape. “Don’t touch it.”

Snape raised his hands placatingly. “Because it hurts too much to touch or because you would prefer I not touch you?”

“I don’t care if you touch me,” Harry rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles tightening from the surprisingly painful after effects of Timmy trying to break in to his head. “I just- don’t touch it.” He wouldn’t admit that it hurt, he wasn’t going to sound weak and pathetic.

Snape muttered something that sounded like ‘idiot child’ before summoning another potion from the cabinet. “Drink,” he said, offering Harry the lavender colored bottle. “If the pain resides quickly, then may I clean it to prevent you from getting a disgusting infection?”

Harry nodded his head shortly before throwing back the pain reliving potion. He released a heavy sigh of air as the pain in his head instantly disappeared, along with a heavy amount of tension in the rest of his body. “Ta,” he said. He put the bottle on the small table beside him and lifted his chin once more. “I called him a noseless dick.”

The potion dipped rag in Snape’s hand froze a few inches from Harry’s forehead. “Who?”

“Timmy,” Harry explained while Snape slowly and carefully wiped the blood from his inflamed scar and forehead. “He won’t leave me alone Sev. So I told him I was going to kill him, didn’t I? Then he went from mad to curious, and curious hurt way worse than mad did, so I called him a noseless dick.”

“You are now conversing with the Dark Lord through your mind?” Snape’s voice sounded like they were just talking about Harry’s homework, so he shrugged.

“I dunno if he’s getting my messages or not, but I told him to leave me alone.” Harry closed his eyes as the potion on his forehead left behind a soothing sensation. “Dumbledore knows about it.”

“You told Albus about having mental conversations with the Dark Lord?” Snape’s voice was absolutely no longer casual, and now sounded a bit panicked and a lot angry. Harry opened his eyes quickly and inched back in his seat.

“No, I’m not fuckin stupid, am I?” Harry sneered. “He already knew.”

Snape put the rag down on the table and summoned another pain reliever, this one for himself. “I would appreciate you starting from the beginning Harry.”

Harry waited until Snape sat down in the chair across from him and replayed his ambush by Dumbledore.

“Dumbledore asked me to tell everyone Timmy’s back, I said no. He asked me to join the Order, I said no. He asked if I would join Timmy, I said no. He asked if I was getting any pains in my scar, or visions, or odd dreams, and I told him no. And then... then that was it,” Harry finished lamely, trying to keep from bringing up the rest of it. Now that his pain was gone, he was tired, and fighting with Snape was the last thing he really wanted to do. Especially since he was debating on just taking a nap on the sofa, keeping himself from having to walk all the way back to his dorm.

“Was there a specific reason you did not come inform me immediately of this?” Snape asked.

Harry shrugged and looked down at his lap. “Dunno.” He really hadn’t even considered it. He’d just been confused and irritated and on edge after talking to Dumbledore and Snape was probably the last person in the world he wanted to talk to that night.

“What else did Albus tell you?”

Harry shrugged down at his lap again, not really wanting to lie, but also not wanting to fight. “Can I sleep here? I’m tired.”

“You may,” Snape said without hesitation. “Did this conversation with Albus have anything to do with your decision to give Theodore your position as prefect?”

Harry turned on the sofa to stretch out and look up at the stone ceiling while he tried to think of an answer. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets?” he said evasively. “Cause that’s what you said.”

“We do not. Though I would appreciate if you could imagine yourself in my position, even for just a moment.”

Harry peeked over at Snape at that odd request and thought he saw a bit of regret in his dark eyes.

“I had only barely convinced you of the truth that I do not prefer Theodore to you, and that I was in no way attempting to replace you,” Snape said, ignoring Harry’s embarrassed blush at the reminder of his jealousy over the summer. “Then the badges arrived and to my surprise, Theodore did not receive it and you did. And you seemed more pleased than I had anticipated you would be, considering I did not believe you would even desire the position. If you had been in my shoes, would you have admitted that I had not actually selected you?”

Since Snape was one of less than a dozen people in the world that Harry actually liked, he turned back to the ceiling and tried to consider it honestly.

“Probably not,” he finally said. “But I wasn’t happy that Dumbledore was the one who told me, was I?”

“I should have told you,” Snape said. “I apologize for not telling you myself. And I apologize that you felt the need to give up your position, I am willing to speak with Theodore about it if you would like.”

“Nah.” Harry summoned the blanket from the basket by the fireplace and kicked his shoes off. “I was a bit of a hypocrite, wasn’t I? Walking around with a badge while I don’t give a damn about the rules. No better than the bloody police.”

Snape snorted, apparently amused by Harry’s self-evaluation. “Was that the entirety of your conversation with Albus? You have not left out any other details?”

“Nope.” Harry rolled on his side and gave Snape a tired smirk. “But I did talk to Tonks tonight.”

“Oh?”

Was Snape... blushing?

Interesting.

“She says hi,” Harry told him. “And she says she’s an excellent friend to have.”

Snape muttered an especially colorful curse under his breath before flicking his wand to dim the lights. “Go to sleep brat. And rest easy knowing that despite your exceedingly numerous bouts of migraine inducing chaos, you are quite irreplaceable to me.”

“Night Sevvv,” Harry drawled to Snape’s back with a grin as Snape quickly made his way back to his room.

Harry waited for the quiet snick of Snape’s door before he cleared his mind and pulled all his focus to the center of his forehead:

Watch your back Timmy.

Then, just to be as annoying as humanly possible, he sent him a replay of burning Quirrell to death with his bare hands back in first year.

Harry drifted off to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Monday November 15

“Oh this is going to be amazing,” George whispered. “What d’you reckon they’ve got?”

“Knowing them? Could be anything,” Fred snorted. He stretched his neck up, trying to get a different angle to make out any details that would explain what was inside the boxes that most of Harry’s friends held, but there weren’t any clues on the outside that he could make out.

It didn’t help that the bloody crowd for the DADA Club was somehow even bigger than it was last meeting. Fred kind of doubted that all the students attended just to learn defense. If someone believed that, then he had an invisible house in Ireland to sell them.

Fred’s theory that most people only showed up to ogle Harry and witness his magic was further proven when Harry came in through the teachers entrance and the buzzing conversations of the crowd reached a new level.

Fred counted down mentally in his head as Harry surveyed the crowd and his eyes flashed with irritation.

3...

2...

“BE QUIET!”

Aah. He was a bit off the mark, but still close.

The crowd quieted down immediately, nobody brave enough to purposefully irritate that absolute wonderful genius.

“I changed my mind about this club,” Harry told everyone. “I kept thinking, why am I trying to teach you spells that are useful in a fight and might show up on a test? I’m not some teacher trying to show you things to be graded on, am I?” He looked over his shoulder and smirked at Theo for a second before adding, “I’m not even a bloody prefect anymore.”

Which Fred thought was hilarious when he found out that Harry gave Theo his badge. Especially since he had no idea who in their right mind would make Harry prefect to start with.

“So here’s the deal- if you want to practice spells that are gonna be on your tests, move to this table over here,” Harry nodded towards the staff table behind him and his friends. “Mione and Theo are willing to help you with that and I’ll show you any spells they don’t know. And if you want to do something tonight that might save your life and get rid of an enemy, stay where you are.”

A few people shifted uneasily, but only a couple of fifth and seventh years moved to the table. Not surprising really, since they had OWL’s and NEWT’s coming up. Fred personally didn’t give a damn about his NEWT’s, he already had his future mapped out and test scores didn’t change it at all.

“Brill.” Harry looked out at everyone, his eyes gleaming and his lips twisted up in a smirk. “I spent days trying to think of a spell to teach tonight, didn’t I? Trying to think of something, anything, that could give you lot some sort of advantage in a fight. And I couldn’t think of a single thing that isn’t already taught by the teachers, and I don’t wanna be a teacher.”

There were a few quick whispers, people wondering what Harry was going to show them, and an overall sense of rising expectations within the crowd. If it wasn’t a standard spell, what would it be? Knowing Harry it could literally be anything.

Everyone watched as Harry slowly, Merlin Fred loved it when he was dramatic, held his right arm out to the side and released his wand in to his hand.

No.

Not his wand.

A silver handled dagger.

“A knife was my first weapon, and it’s still one of my best.” Harry twirled the weapon around between his fingers, looking so casual and so at ease that Fred was going to lose his mind.

“Learning to use one could save your life, if-“

“Seriously? That’s what you’re teaching us?”

Fred and George exchanged a gleeful look as Harry’s speech was interrupted by an especially rude third year Ravenclaw boy. George might not (thankfully) think of Harry in the same way Fred does, but they both loved it when Harry tore someone down in public.

Harry didn’t even stop twirling the knife in his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Xander,” the boy said. “And I’m not learning about muggle weapons. I heard you fought death eaters last year, eh? I bet you didn’t use a knife to fight them.”

“Nope. I used a sword.” Harry smiled sharply. “But if you think it’s a useless skill, feel free to fu- leave,” he corrected himself.

Fred assumed that Harry was told not to openly curse while he was leading the club, because he usually didn’t have a problem with it.

“I didn’t say it was useless,” the moron argued with the stubbornness worthy of a lion. “I just don’t see how a knife can be used against magic. Wouldn’t it be better to learn something like expelliarmus?”

Harry laughed, and it was one of Fred’s favorite laughs of his. A mocking laugh that made you wonder what terrible thing was about to come out of his mouth.

“Come up here and you can help me demonstrate,” Harry offered with an innocent smile and a sweet tone to his voice.

Apparently the kid really was more intelligent than he was brave because he shrunk back and shook his head quickly. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

“No?” Harry looked around the crowd slowly. “Someone want to come help me show Xander why I’m teaching this tonight?”

“Don’t do it,” George whispered.

Too late.

Fred’s hand shot up in the air.

“I’ll help you,” he grinned.

Harry’s eyes met his own, and he tilted his head just a bit before shrugging. “‘Kay. Clear off guys,” he told his friends.

Fred bound up to the stage to Harry, wondering if Harry remembered their ridiculous ‘duel’ back in Lockhart’s dueling club.

“You trust me?” Harry asked him quietly.

Fred didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

Harry’s responding smile was more joyful than the sharp thing he showed to the others. “‘Kay so stand here-“ Harry pointed him to the far end of the platform, in front of the wall. “And all you’re gonna do is disarm me, got it?”

“And what are you going to do?” Fred asked wryly.

Harry held the dagger up and smirked. “I’m gonna show them how knives can sometimes beat magic. Ready?”

Fred didn’t exactly trust the sharp dagger in Harry’s hand, the one he brought back covered in Snape’s blood at the end of the tournament, but he did trust Harry. He backed up to the other end of the platform and raised his wand.

“When I’ve died will someone make sure my mum puts ‘the better twin’ on my tombstone?” he called out to the crowd, drawing a laugh from the eager students.

“I’m having her put ‘the dumb twin’ obviously,” George called back.

Fred ignored his brother and gave Harry a lopsided smile. “Ready when you are.”

“This is gonna hurt for a minute,” Harry warned him. He held his wand in his left hand, his knife in his right. “Go.”

Never let it be known that Fred wasn’t a Gryffindor— even if that just meant he occasionally had more courage than brains.

“Expelliarmus!” he cried. He knew Harry was letting himself be disarmed, but it was still heartening to actually catch his wand and hold it up.

“Oh nooo, he has my wand, what will I do?” Harry drawled in a bored tone. “Oh. I know.”

Fred knew Harry was going to throw his knife at him, but it didn’t stop a low groan from escaping his mouth when Harry’s knife landed in his left forearm, causing him to drop Harry’s wand.

“Accio wand.”

There were cheers as Harry caught his wand and then easily disarmed Fred while Fred was distracted by the knife lodged in his arm.

“This is gonna hurt again,” Harry said quietly after he jogged over to him. “Deep breath.”

Fred didn’t even have a chance to breathe in before Harry yanked the knife out and immediately placed his hand on the deep cut.

“Heal,” Harry murmured. Fred victoriously raised his left arm to cheers from the others.

“I’ve been healed!” he laughed.

His arm still hurt like mad, but there wasn’t an injury anymore.

Harry twirled his wrist a bit and cleaned the blood off Fred and the floor before he turned back to the crowd of students.

“Anyone still think a knife can’t help you in a fight?” He quirked one of his brows up as everyone silently shook their heads.

The Ravenclaw boys face was bright red- properly embarrassed Fred hoped.

“So everyone get a knife from one of these boxes, then line up in the middle, facing the Gryffindor table.”

Harry waited until his friends hopped down from the platform to begin rearranging students and handing out knives before he gave Fred another small grin. “Here,” he handed him his wand back. “Thanks for doing that.”

“Anything for you,” Fred winked then immediately turned away from Harry to join the others.

He didn’t have to look back to know that Harry was confused, which was part of the plan. Another bloody good one in his opinion.

Step One: Make sure Harry knows that he wants to be friends if nothing else.

Step Two: Flirt with him at every given opportunity until he realizes Fred wants to be more than friends if he does. Which, if the bruise on Kaleb’s face was any indicator, he does.

Step Three: Give Harry the chance to pursue him. He didn’t want Harry to feel pressured to get back together, so he was planning on letting Harry decide when and how they did.

Fred could be patient sometimes. If the reward was worth it.

And Harry was.

The rest of the meeting went brilliantly.

Harry conjured up a whole ton of cushions and stuck them to the wall behind where the Gryffindor table usually was. He stood in the center of the room and let everyone watch as he threw his knife, sticking it right to the cushion, before summoning it back.

“Like that,” Harry said. “I’m gonna put up a shield so nobody gets stabbed by anyone on accident, yeah? If you do get hurt, tell me. Don’t be a snitch.”

Fred, George, and most of the muggleborns and half-bloods snickered at the confusion on the pureblooded students’ faces at Harry’s request.

Fred stared hard at the cushion stuck to the wall across from him, trying to mimic Harry’s stance while everyone else began enthusiastically throwing their knives.

He pulled the knife back and inhaled, then exhaled as he threw it forward with as much force as he could.

“YES!” Fred threw a fist in the air as his knife stuck to the cushion. It wasn’t the exact spot he had been aiming for, but it still hit!

“Good one Fred.” Fred turned a joyful face around just in time to see Harry wink, then smirk and walk away.

Merlin.

He loves that mad man.

By the time the hour was almost up, a little over half of the students were hitting the cushions every time thanks to Harry’s help.

“Good job everyone,” Harry said after summoning and packing up the knives. “We’ll meet again on the 29th, and the 13th. Then not again until January 10th. Night.”

Fred was ready to head up to the Gryffindor Tower with George, preparing to taunt Lee for joining the other Gryffindors in ‘Dumbledore’s Army’. Did they get to throw knives at a wall for their meeting? Probably not. He was about to leave the hall when Harry called out to him.

“Hey, Fred. Are you busy?”

George stopped when Fred did, until Fred nudged him with his shoulder. George shook his head with a grin, but carried on without him.

“Not too much, what’s up?” Fred tried to smile at Harry like he would any of his other friends.

He ignored the many, many, memories that wanted to remind him that Harry was much more than just a friend.

“I- er- d’you wanna go for a walk with me?”

Fred didn’t want to seem too eager, so he just shrugged. “Sure.”

Some of the tension in Harry’s body relaxed, almost as if he had expected Fred to say no.

“Brill,” Harry said. “C’mon, they never lock the front doors.”

Fred followed beside Harry as he edged around the other lingering students and carefully slipped right out the front doors.

It was a bit ridiculous that they weren’t locked, but since it only helped Fred right now he wasn’t going to complain.

Harry didn’t seem to want to say anything as they slowly made their way across the grounds. Fred waited until they were nearly to the lake before he broke the silence between them.

“You did great tonight,” he said truthfully. “Anyone can teach kids spells that might work, but teaching over half the castle to throw a knife at their opponent? Genius.”

Harry looked up at him as he walked and grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Don’t tell them, but I don’t think half those kids can do magic worth a damn, and definitely not enough to fight off a death eater, yeah? So I was thinking maybe if they had a backup weapon that they’d surprise anyone dueling them, don’t you think?”

Fred laughed and leaned against the tree that Harry stopped by. The same tree they’d once had an argument beside because Fred was teasing some birds from Beauxbatons. “I think if a death eater attacks any of those kids, they’re going to be shocked as hell when a real knife comes flying at their chest.”

“That’s the plan,” Harry quipped. He looked out across the lake, the black water rippling slightly with the gentle breeze. The same breeze that kept a constant ruffle going in his thick black hair.

“I never told you sorry, and I probably should, so... I apologize,” Harry said quietly after a moment.

Harry didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, or look at Fred, so Fred just stared out at the lake with him. “For what?” he asked, speaking just as softly as Harry did.

“Loads of stuff I guess.” Harry glanced over at Fred for a split-second before slowly sinking down to the ground and sitting cross-legged in the grass. “For lying about why I wanted to break up, for punching your friend,” Harry sneered the word ‘friend’ which made Fred smile, “for giving you detention just because I was jealous, and- and for that one night.”

Fred sifted through Harry’s list of things he wanted to apologize for carefully before he sat down next to him and replied. “I mean, the detention was a bit of a lark, and Kaleb isn’t my friend, he was just the only bloke dumb enough to help me make you jealous.”

Harry scowled across the water at that, drawing another grin from Fred.

“You don’t need to apologize for what happened that night,” Fred said gently, not wanting to upset Harry for bringing it up when they were finally talking about it. “But I do accept your apology for lying about why you wanted to break up.”

Harry nodded slowly and didn’t say anything.

They sat there like that for a while, both of them probably thinking over the same rocky history they had together.

Fred loved Harry. Had probably loved Harry from the moment they dueled together in the Slytherin common room back in his fourth year. He definitely loved Harry when they went to the Yule Ball together, dancing and laughing up to the end. He loved Harry when Harry was making decisions about a war Fred didn’t want him involved in. And he loved Harry when he left him with questions and regrets.

But he also loved Harry enough to wait. And let him decide if being with Fred was worth the work he’d have to do. Because Fred had been talking with Lupin, who really wasn’t a bad bloke at all, and Lupin said something that made a lot of sense. He said that some people avoid relationships because the work and sacrifice they would have to make to make the relationship work was overwhelming and sometimes terrifying.

“Are we still friends?” Harry eventually asked, when the moon was high enough above the forest to reflect on the water.

“Course we are,” Fred assured him. And they would be. It would hurt, worse than any other pain before, if Harry decided Fred wasn’t worth the work he’d have to do for their relationship. But Fred would still want to be his friend.

“Good.” Harry released a heavy sigh and gave Fred a crooked grin. “I’ll even try and not hit the next bloke you snog.”

Fred blinked at him.

Then again.

And again.

Okay.

He had tried to not push his interest on Harry, he wanted Harry to pursue him this time so he knew it was what Harry really wanted. But...

But Merlin Harry was bloody oblivious.

“Harry... you know that you’re the only bloke I want to snog, right?”

This time it was Harry’s turn to blink. His eyes were bright even in the dark, somehow glowing with what Fred thought might be happiness.

“Everyone said that,” Harry said with a small grin playing on his lips. “But I thought maybe they were just being nice, cause they knew that’s what I wanted.”

Fred had hoped it was what Harry wanted. He had kind of assumed so based on that right hook and detention he served. But he still felt like he accidentally set off some of his new fireworks in his stomach when Harry said it out loud.

“Yeah?” Fred asked with a dopey grin.

“Yeah,” Harry’s grin was really just as dopey, but probably much cuter. Until it slowly slid off his face. “Er... but... I l-like you Fred, it’s just...” Harry turned back to the lake, avoiding Fred’s eyes like he does when something’s bothering him. “I’m broken,” he finally said quietly after a few deep breaths. “Not just with the manic-depressive thing, but with the s-sex thing too. And I broke up with you cause I think you deserve better, yeah?”

“Welllll, you’re wrong about three things,” Fred said slowly. “First, you’re not broken, not with the mind illness or the sex thing. Second, I dunno that I could ever actually find someone better than you Harry. I don’t think they even exist. And third, isn’t it my decision if I want to be with you or try and find someone else?”

Harry, for as brilliant as Fred knew he is, looked like he hadn’t even considered that third point before.

Which is really just something else that Lupin said that Fred thought sounded like more good advice. He’d told him that it was Harry’s decision to end the relationship, but it was Fred’s decision to decide if he wanted to see other people or not.

Fred honestly thought about writing down some of the stuff Lupin told him. The man was a bloody genius about relationship stuff.

Harry scoffed, but he didn’t actually look unhappy. “Bit rude of you to say I’m wrong,” he said.

“Bit rude of you to be so wrong,” Fred laughed. “C’mon now. Who wouldn’t want to be with the same bloke who has now cut my face in a duel and threw a knife at my arm?”

Harry laughed now too, and Fred had missed that laugh so bloody much.

“I think it’s charming.” Harry leaned back, propping himself up on his forearms. “I’d probably marry the first person to beat me in a duel who isn’t Snape.”

Bet.

“You would,” Fred teased him. “But you also got a giant snake and let it sleep in your bed, so you’re a bit terrifying.”

Fred had gallantly ignored the bloody deadly snake that slept at the foot of Harry’s bed last summer. Harry told him he wouldn’t bite him, so Fred had crossed his fingers and hoped he wasn’t wrong.

If he had been wrong though Fred figured there were worse ways to die.

“I miss Stevie.” Harry glowered out at the water for a moment, probably thinking about his deadly pet before peeking over at Fred. “And I missed you,” he said softly.

Fred slowly, suuuuuper slowly, inched his hand over by Harry’s. Harry saw the movement, and Fred gave him plenty of time to move if it wasn’t what he wanted, but when he didn’t move his hand, Fred linked their pinkies together lightly.

“I missed you.”

That next Saturday, Fred stepped out of the floo in Moon Lodge and went straight to the little library office Lupin had set up.

“We did it!” Fred cried happily, throwing the door open with dramatic jubilation. “Harry wanted to get back together! I used that stuff you said and it actually worked!”

“Congratulations,” Lupin smiled at him from his seat on the plush tan sofa. He gestured for Fred to take his usual spot on the matching sofa across from him. “Let’s hear all about it then.”

Fred spent his hour with Lupin going over the entire evening in as much detail as he could, even adding how Shacklebolt had found them out by the lake at two and sent them to bed with just a disapproving shake of his bald head.

“And then- the next morning I didn’t know if I should go sit over at the Slytherin table like I used to or not, and Harry kind of grinned at me across the room and guess what? He’d made Susan scoot down so I could sit next to him.”

Lupin was a good audience, making all the right sounds and responses in the right moments. But his face was a bit solemn at the end of their ‘session’ when he told Fred that ‘now the real work needed to start’.

Which was mad. Because clearly Lupin hadn’t listened to how much work Fred had done to even get back to this point with Harry.

But it was fine. If anyone was worth a bit of work, it was his Harry.

Chapter Text

Barty had been so determined when he marched up the stairs of the St James London Library. He had a perfectly normal muggle notebook under his arm, he had polyjuice flowing through his veins, and he’d been prepared to start digging in the past of Timmy.

But then he’d realized that he had no idea how to navigate a muggle library or use muggle computers. And for a library, it had been loud and filled with people and he had panicked and ran out when the librarian offered to show him how to use a ‘microfilm reader’.

He’d found the first private alley he could and quickly apparated home in pathetic defeat. A state of defeat that was only worsened by Mavis’ surprise at abrupt arrival.

“Mavis was thinking Mister Barty was not being home for hours,” he squeaked. “Mavis was not preparing anything for our lunch!”

“Don’t worry about it Mavis,” Barty slumped down in a seat at the kitchen table. “Maybe I’ll go back and try again.”

“Mister Barty is doing anything he is putting his mind to,” Mavis smiled widely. “And Mister Barty is getting a letter from Mister Snoop while he is being gone.”

“Terrific,” Barty groaned, accepting the scroll from Mavis. “As if I weren’t already feeling terrible.”

B,
Harry would like us to spend the Christmas holidays in his other home.
Which is an absurd thing for a child to own two of.
He would like you to go come along, as well as Lupin, Black, and any of his merry band of misfits who are not returning to their own homes, of which I imagine will be many. I will only be available for the second half of the break, as I am needed at the school for the first part of it. Since Lupin and Black are as prone to idiocy as Harry is, I would rest easier knowing that you will remain there with them at least until I arrive on Christmas Day.
If this is acceptable to you, kindly write back promptly before my head explodes as I imagine the many, many, new levels of destruction the others are liable to create without a rational adult.
-Severus

Barty’s lips curled up in a grin as he read Sev’s note the first time. He wondered if it was painful for Sev to admit he was a rational adult?

His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he read it the second time...

And on the third re-read his eyes lit up as Sev unknowingly provided an answer that Barty himself didn’t know he needed.

“Hold off on lunch for me,” he told Mavis, pocketing the letter and grabbing his notebook and cloak once more. “I’m going to talk to Sirius and Remus.”

Barty knocked politely on the door of Moon Lodge, knowing he’d have better luck finding Remus here than if he tried to break through the wards at Grimmauld.

A woman answered the door. A woman with a tanned complexion, the smoothness only broken by a gratuitous amount of scarring, sleek black hair, and amber eyes that were currently narrowed with distrust.

She spoke with an accent, Barty thought she may be from a Hispanic background. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m—“ Barty hesitated, unsure if he should give his name or not, “I’m Alastor, I’m looking for Remus, is he in?”

“He is,” the woman said, her face not shifting away from suspicion in the slightest. “Wait here.”

Abruptly, Barty found himself having the door slammed right in his face.

That was rude.

Barty took a few wary steps away from the door, uncertain now about this plan. Remus and Sirius both had been amicable and even friendly towards him during prior alliance meetings, was that just for show? Only for Potter’s sake? True, they had never been friends during their years in Hogwarts, but they were never enemies necessarily either. He had even shared a few NEWT classes with Remus and once paired together for a large project in Runes. Perhaps it was foolish to believe that the man would assist him now?

He was preparing to just apparate back to Spinner’s End, resign himself to understanding the muggle research tools himself, when the door of Moon Lodge opened once more.

“Barty?” Remus’ eyes crinkled in a not-displeased show of surprise. “Cierra told me it was Alastor at the door.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should give my name...” Barty said slowly. “I’m sorry for showing up without writing first, I just—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus cut him off with a friendly smile. “Would you like to come in? We were about to have lunch.”

Barty would have refused, should have really considering that Mavis was undoubtedly preparing a feast for the two of them, but an opportunity to sit with a pack of werewolves and get to know more about them?

Who could resist such an unexpected offer?

“I’d love to, thank you.” Barty followed Remus inside the building, awe filling his gaze as he looked around the rooms they passed through. “This place is lovely,” he said genuinely. “Did Potter decorate?”

No offense to Potter, but the muted browns and greens that gave off such a relaxed and calming environment didn’t seem like a color scheme the chaotic young man would favor.

“Harry had it painted bright red and black,” Remus snorted. “Sirius had to ask him if we could change it. Trust me, it’s much better now.”

Barty’s eyes widened even further when the two of them stepped in to the giant dining room with the appropriately giant dining table. He wasn’t sure how many people lived within Moon Lodge, aside from Sirius and Remus who had apparently decided they liked it there with the others much more than in the small house Sirius bought for the two of them, but there were over a dozen people seated at the table. Mostly adults, a couple of teenagers, and a few young children.

And they were all staring at him with similarly suspicious amber eyes.

It was a preposterous thought to have, but in that moment Barty had never wished to be a werewolf so badly.

“H-hello,” he stammered. None of the adults answered him, but a young boy, perhaps eight years old, gave him a gap-toothed smile.

“Hewwo!” he lisped. “Wanna come eat wif us?”

Barty wasn’t a fan of small kids, never having been around any before Hogwarts, but something about this small child with the obvious physical signs of lycanthropy lisping such an innocent invitation tugged at his heart.

“I would be happy to,” he told him. He looked at the plate in front of the boy and winked. “Can I have yours? It looks tasty.”

“Noooo!” the boy giggled. “You can have your own! Dobby makes the yummiest macaroni.”

“Well how can I turn that down?” Barty grinned. He went ahead and sat down, his chair situated between Remus and the woman who answered the door who Remus referred to as Cierra.

“Hush now and eat,” a woman situated beside the boy chastised him kindly. She also had tanned skin and dark hair, though hers was thick and curled in perfect ringlets. “I am Marietta Lobo, this is my son Anthony—“

“Tony,” the little one corrected her stubbornly. “I wike to be Tony.”

“Tony then,” she smiled indulgently. She gestured to the teenage girl on the other side of her, “My daughter Olivia, and my husband Ricardo is at work right now,” she said proudly.

“And dis is my best fwiend Amber!” Tony said eagerly, beaming at the girl with brown frizzy hair beside him.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Barty said. “I’m—“

He hesitated once more. Did these people know they were in an alliance with the supposed current Dark Lord Barty?

“Barty, he lives with Harry and Severus,” Remus said smoothly.

Amber sat up quickly, her face lighting up with a childish enthusiasm. “Really?” she breathed. “You live with Harry Potter and Mister Snape??”

Barty didn’t fail to notice that he now had the full attention of every person at the table. He also couldn’t help but notice that he was almost positive that Marietta and Olivia were also not werewolves.

Odd.

“I do,” he said slowly, uneasy with all those similar amber eyes on him.

“What’s it like?” Another teenage girl, this one perhaps closer to Potter and Theodore’s age, with light porcelain skin and short blonde hair asked him.

“Uh... interesting,” Barty allowed, thinking over their summer together as a family of sorts. “Definitely never a dull moment.”

Remus snorted, much more relaxed in this environment that Barty had seen him before. “He’s being polite,” he told the girl with a playful grin. “He means that Harry is a madman who loves chaos, just as I’ve told you.”

“Harry Potter is the leader of the free people,” the girl scowled, her delicate features twisting in annoyance. “You shouldn’t insult him.”

“Oh Harry wouldn’t be insulted,” Sirius said with a booming laugh, coming in to the dining room through another entrance with an armful of plates. “Harry loves to be described as the bringer of chaos, thinks it makes him interesting.”

“I have a hard time believing he isn’t interesting regardless,” Cierra quipped drily, getting to her feet to help Sirius navigate the plates to the table. “Kreacher again?”

“Kreacher again,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “He made Dobby cry, so now they’re both in time out.”

Barty wasn’t sure what most of that meant, but his interest was piqued at part of it. “Kreacher? You don’t mean your families old house-elf?”

“Yep.” Sirius slid Barty one of the plates he brought, a sandwich and macaroni on it, and finished serving the plates to the others before sitting on the other side of Remus. “He kept fighting with Molly and Arthur, eavesdropping on meetings, and generally being a hateful little thing so I brought him here.”

“Hateful?” Barty was offended on the elves behalf. “Kreacher was wonderful when we were in school! He was always bringing snacks to the library for us, sneaking in and dropping them off with... with us,” he finished weakly, not wanting to bring up Sirius’ deceased brother when he was there to ask for a favor from Sirius’ partner.

“That’s because he doted on Reg and despised me,” Sirius said, unbothered by Barty’s near slip-up. “Nasty little git.”

“There are children present,” Remus said with a pointed look at the giggling children.

“Kweacher is funny,” Tony told Barty with all the seriousness that a child that young is able to display. “He calls me yucky then gives me chocolate milk.”

“An equal trade for sure,” Cierra said cynically. “Dobby is much more preferable.”

“Dobby cries too much,” the blonde teenage girl argued around a mouthful of her meal. “He’s too grateful for everything, it’s driving me mad.”

Barty absently ate his sandwich, listening carefully as the others debated back and forth on which house-elf was better company. He chimed in occasionally, but he informed them that he personally believed that Potter’s house-elf Mavis was the best elf he had ever met. The others were torn on their in-house favorite though, apparently Kreacher called them names, but was a better cook. And Dobby was kinder, but cried whenever any of them did any housework themselves.

“Kreacher makes the best sweet pies,” Barty told Olivia when she mentioned how he was the better baker. “If you tell him what flavor you like, I bet he’d make it.”

“Not without talking a lot of shit first,” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Shit!” The little one in the high chair cried, smacking her rattle on the tray.

“Sorry,” Sirius muttered to the people Barty assumed were the babies parents, neither of whom seemed very bothered by their foul mouthed infant.

“That was Gizelle’s fourth word,” the man beside the baby beamed.

“What was her first?” Barty asked curiously, speculatively looking over the baby with the werewolf parents. The baby didn’t have any outward signs of lycanthropy, but would it simply take time to emerge? If both parents carried the gene, would it not be passed along to the offspring?

“Mama,” the women on the other side of the high chair smiled happily as she answered Barty. “Then dada, then wolf.”

“‘Woof’, you mean,” Marietta smirked.

“Brilliant,” Barty grinned. He could see why Remus and Sirius both appeared so at ease here, even with the missing pack members (three of whom were at work currently according to the others) Barty could tell that the rest of them truly carried bonds like Barty imagined he had with his housemates. They were more than just people who lived together by circumstance, they were a family that cared for one another.

He would have given anything to have this as a child. He thought that perhaps even if Gizelle did inherit her parents lycanthropy that she was still blessed by Morgana to have such a close knit family.

Not that he was going to share that thought, just in case that wasn’t a popular opinion.

“So what brings you by?” Sirius finally asked him, after everyone was finishing off their meals and chatter had died down a bit.

“I was going to ask Remus for help,” Barty said, hesitant once more. “I’m trying to do some research, but I need to start in the muggle archives and I don’t understand how their systems work...”

“Of course I’ll help,” Remus agreed easily, dispelling Barty’s fears that he would be turned away. “What topic are you researching?”

“Uh...” Barty stalled, unwilling to share this topic in present company, or at all really, not until he had concrete answers to share with the alliance. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.”

“He means he can’t tell us,” Cierra scoffed from beside him. “Why? Because we’re the big bad wolves?”

“What?” Barty turned towards her, indignant at the implication. “Of course not, I can’t tell anyone just yet. I don’t care that you’re werewolves.”

Cierra looked mollified at his response, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave him what he thought was an apologetic grimace, so he turned back to Remus.

“I needed to dig through newspapers,” he told him. “But they use a thing called a ‘microfilm reader’ and computers and I didn’t understand any of it.”

“Is this for your assignment from Harry?” Remus guessed carefully with a dead-on accuracy.

“It is.”

“Alright,” Remus clapped his hands together and gave Barty a cheerful grin. “When did you want to go?”

Barty looked around the room a little wistfully. He didn’t want to leave, he would love to stay and get to know these fascinating people more, but...

But Potter had a horcrux inside his head and Barty was hoping to have a solution for it before Easter break.

“Now, if you’re amenable,” he sighed.

Marietta must have sensed his reluctance to leave, because she gave him a kind smile. “You should come back and see us again soon.” Her voice was thick with an accent, but soft like Barty’s mothers used to be. “We don’t get many visitors here.”

“And bring Mavis,” the blonde teenager, Sky said, having howled with laughter until she was nearly in tears when Barty told them all about the never ending battle between Mavis and Stevie.

“And Harry Potter!” Amber said.

“And Mister Snape!” Tony added on with a joyful cry.

“He can’t bring them, I told you guys they’re at school,” Remus reminded the children gently. “Perhaps we can convince Harry to visit this summer though, I’m sure he’d love to meet all of you.”

Amber and Tony high-fived, easily pacified by Remus’ offer.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Barty told Marietta as he got to his feet. “And I’m sure Mavis would be thrilled to come visit,” he assured Sky. “Poor guy misses all the noise from the summer I think.”

Remus also got to his feet, grabbing his previously discarded cardigan off the back of his chair and giving Sirius a kiss that Barty politely ignored.

“I suppose we’re going to London?” Remus asked.

“Yes. The St James Library in London,” Barty said. He gave the others an awkward farewell wave and hastened to follow Remus to the door. “Thank you for helping me,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Remus gave him a peculiar look over his shoulder, equal parts amused and curious. “Why wouldn’t I help you?”

“I— I don’t know,” Barty said. “It’s just... we haven’t always been friends, have we?”

Remus held the front door open for him and gave him the same friendly smile that he used to whenever they had worked together on their projects. “Well I say it’s never too late for new friends.”

Remus proved himself to be a truly indispensable friend to have once the two of them returned to the library. He guided Barty, now back under his polyjuiced disguise, to an empty section in the ‘newsroom’ and asked what year Barty was interested in researching.

“1926,” he said after some quick thinking.

“And you want your research focused in muggle London?” Remus kept his voice low, only the two of them able to hear their whispered conversation.

“For now,” Barty hedged, uncertain if he would find what he needed in his first carefully researched guess.

“Alrighty then, here’s how you do it.” Remus spent the next hour carefully showing Barty how to use the ‘microfilm reader’ to read through old preserved copies of the London Times, the articles of which were organized in boxes according to month and year. He then took much longer than an hour, three in fact, showing Barty how to use the ‘internet’ on the ‘computers’ to search through online archives for more information.

“Your best luck with this method of research is going to be recent events,” Remus explained in the type of tone that Barty imagined he had used as a professor. “But there are also different webpages with different features, it seems like most of the muggle technology is centered around invading the privacy of others.”

“Fascinating,” Barty sighed, eagerly clicking away on the screen now that he had gotten more comfortable with it. “Wixen are eons behind in our research methods!”

“I agree,” Remus grinned. He checked his watch and raised his brows in surprise. “I think they close at five, and it’s nearly four-thirty now, would you like me to meet you back here in the morning?”

“That’s alright,” Barty waved off his offer appreciatively. “I should know enough now to at least get started. Thank you Remus, I truly appreciate this.”

When Remus smiled and told him, “Anytime,” Barty was quite certain that a type of friendship had bloomed between them.

Barty spent nearly every hour he could in that library for the next six days straight, following this maniacal research path just as tediously and devoutly as he had the horcrux issue.

He kept careful notes, charmed to be unreadable to any aside from himself as he came across any facts, mentions, or even possibly unrelated but possibly related stories to Timmy’s days back when he was Tom Riddle.

He found a quiet birth announcement for Tom Riddle Junior in the January 1927 edition of the London Times— apparently being born in December 31st had pushed his announcement back to the next month. Once he found that, and his mother’s name, he was able to backtrack from there. Merope Gaunt had been married and divorced within a year to a man, a man that Barty had to assume was muggle, Tom Riddle.

Which interestingly made Timmy a half-blood. Gaunt was an ancient, and much disliked, line of purebloods who could date their ancestry back to Salazar Slytherin, but who had an unfortunate habit of dating their close blood relatives.

Tom Riddle Senior appeared in the society pages for the London Times many times prior to his ‘scandalous’ marriage to Merope Gaunt. His family was well to-do, high in their society, and all found dead in their home in Little Hangleton in 1943.

No trace of poison. No suspicions of foul play. No missing artifacts from the opulent home to suspect burglary as a motive.

Muggles were mystified, and the home became infamous for the murders. In all the photographs of the home that were displayed in the articles, it wasn’t difficult for Barty to recognize it at once. He also recognized the landscaper who had been blamed for the Riddles’ deaths and who had once interrupted a meeting between him and Timmy within that very house before being killed by Nagini.

Barty was certain he knew who had killed the Riddles, and he did not believe it was the landscaper Frank Bryce.

Interestingly, when Barty began comparing information to Wixen archives (all cheerfully obtained by Sirius and Remus, despite the fact he couldn’t tell them what he needed the research for), it was Morfin Gaunt, Merope’s brother, who was ultimately arrested by aurors for the triple murder.

Morfin Gaunt who died in Azkaban only a few years after Barty escaped.

His research continued on like this for days and days more. Barty wanted to piece together as much of Timmy’s life before the night he killed Potter’s parents as he could. Only then could he even attempt to decipher what vessels he used to house his soul pieces, or where he may have hidden them.

Periodically he would find an interesting bit of information, such as a small blurb in a newspaper stating that ‘Tom Riddle, of Wool’s Orphanage’ had won a city-wide spelling bee and was awarded a medal for his efforts. He made a note of this, taking special care to copy the accompanying photo of a handsome young child with dark hair and hooded eyes.

Other times, he would find possibly unrelated bits such as when Wool’s Orphanage was noted as having lost a child to a drowning during an annual trip to the seacoast. Barty went ahead and made a note of this as well, believing that any pieces of information, no matter how seemingly irrelevant, could possibly assist him later.

By the time the research portion was completed, Barty was satisfied that he had combed muggle and magical archives thoroughly and had perhaps become the first person to ever have a timeline across his bedroom wall of the life of Tom Riddle. It began with the announcement of his parents’ wedding and ended on October 31st, 1981.

Barty looked down at the list of interviews he needed to complete and smiled.

Harry Potter.

Morfin Gaunt cellmate.

Mister Borgin or Mister Burke (deceased, 1943)

Horace Slughorn.

Even if he had yet to find a solution to Potter’s horcrux yet, he had high hopes that by Easter he could find at least one of the others (probably not Nagini though as he doubted if Timmy allowed her to leave his side at Malfoy Manor) and test out ways of destroying the dark soul inside it without killing the vessel.

Chapter Text

Wednesday December 15

“Good morning Sev.”

If Severus lived to be four hundred years old, he would happily spend that time attempting to get even with Potter. In his heart, he truly knows it was his brat who instructed the pink-haired Nymphadora Tonks to call him ‘Sev’, as she has done every morning that he has left his office to go to breakfast for the last week and a half.

Severus said nothing, choosing to silently stalk past her, imagining various scenarios where he finds some form of revenge on his ward.

“No angry ‘do not call me that’, or even a ‘it is not a good morning’?” Nymphadora called to his back.

“No,” he said curtly, never breaking his stride. “I will not reward your attempts to irritate me with a response.”

“You just did!” Nymphadora’s tinkling laugh echoed in the dungeons behind him as he cursed himself and ascended the stairs.

Damn her, he swore irritably. And damn Potter.

By the time Severus made it to breakfast, he was in an incredibly irritable mood. A mood that was worsened when Pomona slid him a parchment.

“Inspections,” he read flatly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Afraid so.” Pomona’s usual cheer was diminished, leaving her with a scowl reminiscent of his own. “She’s looking to fire people, I think.”

“Who does she think will be fired?” Filius whispered shrilly from Pomona’s other side. “We are all superb professors in our fields!”

“Perhaps not all of us,” Severus suggested with a pointed look at Sybill’s ever empty seat and where Wilhelmina sat in Rubeus’.

“When are you scheduled Severus?” Minerva asked him curtly, refusing to insult their fellow professors.

Severus scanned the parchment once more until he found his name. “Tomorrow with my fifth years,” he sighed. “A coincidence that she’s inspecting me when I have Harry?”

Dolores held an improper interest in his child, it made his skin prickle with unease when she simpered after Potter in the same manner she did Severus. He believed Potter was vigilant and naturally intuitive enough to avoid the foul woman, but he had requested that Blaise and Theodore not leave him alone with her either.

“Doubtful,” Pomona sighed, sliding the parchment back in front of herself. “Seeing as she’s inspecting during my fifth year Hufflepuff-Slytherin class as well.”

“Give me that.” Minerva snatched the parchment and her lips thinned to a harsh slash as she carefully read over the schedule of ‘inspections’. “Merlin, Severus, she’s scheduled all of her inspections during Harry’s classes.”

“Delightful,” Severus drawled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Do tell me how Harry handles it, will you?”

“As long as she doesn’t insult you and he doesn’t pull a knife out, I imagine she may survive,” Pomona said with a playful smile.

Severus and Minerva both sighed at the reminder of Potter’s current defense syllabus for his club. According to the gossip, much of which came from Pomona herself, it seemed as if Potter had decided to teach his fellow students how to defend themselves with muggle weapons. It was as unsurprising as it was absurd.

Perhaps also a touch humorous. Severus had struggled to maintain a blank expression when he encountered a group of legacy pureblooded Slytherin’s debating the better stance for stabbing an attacker with a knife.

“I imagine it’ll depend on what she says and what his mood is,” Filius told his fellow professors with a short chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll have something to say if he doesn’t like what she does though.”

Severus studied Potter over the top of his mug. His lips curled up in a smile as he considered Filius’ words. “Yes,” he murmured, entertained at the idea of Potter unleashing his impertinent cheek on Fudge’s lackey. “I am certain he will have something to say.”

Despite Severus’ morning, it seemed as if his day were heading uphill after that. He received a letter from Barty, agreeing to watch over Potter and his friends during the Christmas holidays while he was at Hogwarts, and another from Narcissa informing him that she had received a short message from Lucius signaling that he was still safe.

His students were distracted as they attempted to talk quietly in his classroom about their upcoming holidays, but there were no explosions, nor injuries. An accomplishment of no small matter considering he had his first years that morning.

Severus had debated on joining the other professors for lunch, but as he had a copious amount of essays to grade and Dolores never missed the afternoon meal, he decided that he would hear about Filius and Minerva’s inspections at the end of the day.

Severus cautiously made his way to dinner that evening, his curiosity tampered down as he was certain he would be unable to receive any answers until after dinner when Dolores was not present. Severus, as usual, glanced up at the glass displays of the house points as he passed them...

Then he had to immediately back up and study them more carefully.

Slytherin had been in third place this morning, behind Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and yet they were now tied for second alongside Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw barely fifty points in the lead.

Severus unabashedly played favorites with his house, an obvious attempt to offset the blatant discrimination his snakes faced daily within these walls, but this had not been his doing. He made his way to the Head Table, taking his accustomed seat between Minerva and Pomona, incredibly curious as to which of his snakes had accrued so many points in the course of the day. Severus’ eyes flicked over the Slytherin table, looking over each student, until lingering on Potter on the very end.

“Pomona, you wouldn’t happen to know which student I should praise for their accomplishments today, do you?” Severus murmured under the cover of the students all serving themselves and talking loudly amongst their peers.

“It would probably be best to allow Minerva to tell you,” Pomona said. Her lips were trembling with what seemed to be a tremendous effort to taper back a laugh.

Severus glanced at Minerva, who was splitting her time between flaring her nostrils at Dolores, who was seated on the other side of Albus, and smiling down in to her tea.

“I suppose it went well then?” Severus asked Minerva softly.

Minerva’s eyes were hazel pools of endless mirth when she did finally look over at Severus. “Would you care for a nightcap tonight Severus? I do believe I owe you something rare... Perhaps that vintage bottle of Macallan?”

Potter.

Potter was certainly involved if Minerva looked that terrible amused and was offering up one of her most coveted bottles of scotch.

“Certainly,” Severus said evenly. “Your office, after rounds?”

“I’ll bring Filius and Pomona as well,” Minerva said.

Which promised to provide adequate entertainment. At a minimum, Severus would learn how his farce of an inspection was meant to go the next day.

And he did.

Almost the instant that Severus entered Minerva’s office, Filius burst out in to uncontrollable laughter.

“The inspections are ridiculous,” he said between laughs. “Dolores couldn’t tell a charm from a hex if it bit her in her gaudy pink cardigan!”

“Oh?” Severus accepted a drink from Minerva and settled into the open chair beside Filius, across from the two witches. “Do tell.”

“Start off with what she said to you,” Pomona said, her round cheeks already rosy from the nearly empty glass in her hands.

“Oooh,” Filius’ eyes narrowed angrily now. “Do you have any idea what that— that amphibian looking supposed witch asked me? She asked if I was a ‘real wizard’ or if I was part goblin!”

“No!” Minerva gasped, outraged. “She didn’t!”

“She did!” Filius cried. “And I told her I was both a ‘real wizard’ and proud part goblin!”

Severus was shocked at Dolores’ audacity. To question and insult a professor’s heritage? It was disgusting.

“And Miss Bones didn’t like that at all,” Filius said, his anger quickly replaced with amusement once more. “She told Dolores that ‘as she is sure the undersecretary to the Minister was fully aware’ that the International Dueling Administration only allows Wixen to participate. Dolores asked her, oblivious as can be, how that was relevant, and d’you know what that little spitfire said?” Filius was overcome with chuckles once again. “She said— said— ‘since Professor Flitwick is the seven time world champion, maybe he’ll demonstrate to you its relevance!’”

Severus was able to let out a short laugh of his own at that, as the others positively howled. Miss Bones was incredibly entertaining when her precise and sweetly spoken insults were not aimed in his direction.

“I love that girl,” Pomona said with a happy sigh.

“Did the rest of your inspection go well after that?” Minerva asked with a bite of impatience.

Severus thought perhaps she was eager to share her own experience with Dolores.

“Well, I was going over some remedial questions the students are likely to get on their OWL exam, as a sort of study session. Dolores was reading over my shoulder, asking a million questions. And she asked the class what the Vermillious charm was— trying to see if I had ‘taught them properly’— and Potter said, cool as can be, he said it summons toads!!”

Minerva sputtered on her drink while Severus groaned.

“What did she say to that?” The cheek of his ward was truly endless at times.

“She gave him ten points! Said it was an excellent answer!”

Severus blinked once, twice, three times.

“She said... summoning toads... was the correct answer to the charm that sends red sparks in the sky... the first year charm?” he repeated slowly.

Filius’ eyes had never glittered more when he nodded. “Yes.”

It was this absolute proof of both the ministry’s incompetence, alongside Dolores’ idiocy, that sent Severus over the edge in to true laughter with his co-workers.

“My turn!” Minerva cried, refilling their glasses with a heavy hand. “When I entered the classroom, that woman was already sitting in a chair beside my desk. I, of course, ignored her.”

“Of course,” Pomona said solemnly. “Minerva McGonagall would never acknowledge the presence of such a woman.”

“Precisely,” Minerva said. “I began instructing the class and Dolores decided to do that ghastly cough of hers.”

”Hem, hem,” Filius coughed in a passage imitation.

“Ugh,” Minerva’s entire face twitched at the noise. “I continued to ignore her presence until it was clear she was distracting my entire class. She then asks if I’m aware I’m being inspected today.”

Severus took another long drink, his lips curled up in anticipation of Minerva’s response.

“And I told her obviously I had or I would be wondering why she was in my room, wouldn’t I?”

“And she wonders why her lions are so cheeky,” Pomona stage whispered to Filius.

“Hush,” Minerva said with a proud smile. “It gets better Pomona, trust me. This absolute horror of a woman then interrupts me again when I’m lecturing the students on Vanishing Spells, so I asked how she expects to get an accurate representation of my teaching methods when she insists on interrupting me, as I do not permit others to speak when I am speaking.”

Pomona let out a short laugh that was more of a shriek than a true laugh. “Brilliant,” she said.

“I know,” Minerva said drily. “So I instruct Bulstrode and Macmillan to hand out the mice, and Dolores starts in on her questions,” Minerva rolled her eyes. “‘How long have you taught here?’ ‘Do you enjoy your position as Deputy Headmistress?’ ‘Do you believe you can adequately teach and fulfill your other duties?’”

“She’s after your spot Minerva,” Filius said with all the wisdom he was able while swaying in his chair. “Deputy first, Headmistress next!”

“I shudder to imagine Hogwarts in such a state,” Severus said bluntly. “I imagine I would resign immediately.”

“You wouldn’t,” Minerva pointed a finger at him, “and do you know why? Because of that child you have raised to become an absolute insubordinate brat,” she said with much more warmth than the insult implied. “When Dolores asked me if I felt as if vanishing mice was a fifth year spell or not, Harry summoned his owl and vanished it silently with a tap of his finger.”

Severus allowed himself a satisfied smirk at what he was certain was quite the show of power to someone as magically inept as Dolores.

“Then he looks right at her Severus, and says ‘Professor McGonagall taught me everything I know’.”

“What a liar,” Pomona laughed. “That boy showed up here ready to pass his NEWTS.”

“He’d be top of the school if you could read a damn thing he wrote,” Filius slurred with a smile.

“I assume this is how Slytherin wound up with such a gain in points today?” Severus asked Minerva.

“As if I would award points for a ridiculous and needless defense of me to a coworker Severus,” McGonagall sniffed haughtily, turning her nose in the air. “I awarded Harry fifty points for excellent use of the summoning charm after his owl chased Dolores from my classroom, pecking his beak right in her smug face, and he summoned him back.”

It was a mark of how much the mental image brought such joy to the other professors that none complained of the blatant disregard of the rules surrounding the point system.

“Harry certainly has seemed to taken a side against Dolores,” Pomona said after they finished laughing and refilling their drinks.

“He has,” Severus agreed lightly. “Although I’m afraid that Dolores may be unaware of where he stands.”

“Pity,” Minerva grinned wryly. “One can only hope that the newly recombined efforts of Harry and Fred Weasley can eventually bring the defense curse down on Dolores.”

“The sooner the better,” Filius raised his glass.

It wasn’t often that the heads of the Hogwarts houses had a cause to celebrate something unanimously, but they did all toast to Dolores getting precisely what she deserved.

The next afternoon, Severus felt as if he were as prepared to host ‘the Hogwarts High Inquisitor’ as he could be. That is to say, he changed nothing at all and prepared for his fifth years as usual.

“Hello Severus,” Dolores entered his classroom ten minutes before his class was meant to start, eyelashes fluttering and a wide smile on her face.

“Dolores,” Severus responded stiffly.

“You know I’ll be evaluating you today?” she asked sweetly. “Of course this is all just a technicality, we both know you’re an exceptional professor, don’t we?”

Severus hummed noncommittally, unwilling to be forced to banter with her. He busied himself with straightening various stacks of paper on his desk as she roamed around, inspecting the jars of ingredients that decorate the walls.

“How long have you worked here Severus?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at a pickled rattlesnake.

“Fourteen years.”

”Hem, hem,” Dolores cleared her throat and turned to flutter her nearly nonexistent eyelashes at him once more. “You were very young.”

“Indeed,” Severus said curtly.

He hadn’t been ‘very young’, at only twenty one he’d been the youngest ever, but it was hardly a distinction that needed clarified. Certainly not when his students were finally filtering in, offering an excellent distraction.

“Harry, what a surprise!” Dolores said, gliding over to the corner desk that Potter and Draco always utilized. “You’re in this class then?”

As if she had no idea...

“Clearly,” Harry drawled. “I’d look like a bit of a prat if I was just hanging out in other classes, wouldn’t I?”

Ronald snickered quietly and Severus himself felt a smile tug at his lips.

“Of course, of course,” Dolores positively simpered, in the most disturbing manner. She patted her greying curls and took a few steps away from the boys’ desk. “Do you enjoy potions?”

“Yup.”

“Do you believe Severus is a competent teacher?”

“Yup.”

“Wonderful,” Dolores smiled despite Potter’s short and disinterested responses. “Well Severus, why don’t I just let you get started then?” she said with an unflappable smile aimed in his direction.

Severus said nothing, as it was a statement born of an overinflated sense of self-importance and thus required no response.

“The potion for today—“ Severus tapped his board with his wand, the recipe he desired appearing immediately, “is on the board. This will undoubtedly be one of five possible brews you will be tested on for your OWLS.” Severus let his eyes linger on Finnigan, Longbottom, Bulstrode, and Goyle before curling a lip up in pre-annoyance. “Do try to not blow anything up, as you are aware, we do have a guest present. Begin.”

The students immediately began scrambling for their supplies, none of them paying any attention to Dolores and the scratching of her quill on the clipboard she carried.

Severus decided that carrying on as normal was his best course of plan, even if every time he heard that quill scratch something it made him want to snap it in half.

“Have you always taught potions Severus?” Dolores asked while Severus swept between the students, offering both insults and advice in equal amounts.

“I have,” he said curtly. “Weasley, mince the spleen, do not dice it lest you cause your mixture to be too thin.”

“Yes sir,” Weasley mumbled, adjusting his grip on the knife and correcting his cuts.

Severus strode over to the Gryffindor side, “Five points from Gryffindor for a sloppy workspace,” he told Brown, spotting a mess spilling out of her bag right next to the open flame beneath her cauldron. “Clear this garbage away before you create an explosion, idiot girl.”

“Why did you apply for the defense position so many times?”

Do not kill her... Set an example for Potter...

Severus held a vision of strangling the life from Dolores bloated throat as he gave her an impassive look. “Because I desired the position, clearly,” he said coolly.

“Then why did Albus never give it to you?” Dolores asked with all the believable innocence of a dementor.

“You would have to ask him,” Severus grit out.

Do not kill her... Do not curse her... Show Potter how to deal with others as an adult...

Severus glanced at Potter, hoping to see his child understanding the effort of civility he was putting on display. Potter was smirking at him, as if amused by his rapidly diminishing patience. He likely was. The child was an incorrigible brat.

“Oh I will,” Dolores said in her saccharine voice. “If I were Albus, I would have given you the position Severus,” she all but purred his name in the most disgusting way.

BOOM!

Severus head distracted from Dolores’ purring by the explosion of Brown’s cauldron.

“Idiot,” Severus snarled at the Gryffindor girl. “Did I not tell you to clean away your belongings?”

“I did!” Brown cried. “I swear Professor! I don’t know what happened!”

Severus looked her and Patil over and saw no injuries. He bent down to sift through the now ruined cauldron and pulled an ash covered hair bauble from the mess. “This would be the problem,” he hissed. “Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention with Filch tomorrow night.”

“She put it in her bag! I saw her do it sir,” Patil said, leaping to her partners defense. “I don’t know how it got there—“

“Silence before you join her,” Severus said firmly. “Clean this mess up immediately.”

A few of the less composed Slytherin’s chuckled at his dressing down of the girls, but Merlin if Severus wasn’t exhausted by negligence creating so many hazards within his classroom. He swept a discerning eye over the room and quirked a brow at Dolores, who was wiping soot off her sweater and sputtering. Apparently she had been rather close to the cauldron, pity.

“Does this happen often?” she demanded, her tone no longer flirtatious, thank God.

“Only when the students are behaving especially carelessly,” Severus said drily. He glanced towards Potter as his ward leaned over to whisper something to Draco and internally sighed at the look of glee on the child’s face.

Surely not...

“Professor Umbridge, you have a bit of dirt on your neck there,” Potter said politely.

And yet...

The mystery of how Brown’s hair bauble magically moved from her bag to her fire now solved, Severus rolled his eyes in Potter’s direction.

“I think I’ve seen enough today,” Dolores said hastily, her stubby fingers swiping at her neck now. “You’ll receive your results in ten days Severus.”

“I can hardly wait,” Severus responded with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

The class watched with unmasked amusement as Dolores stalked to the door and turned to address him one last time.

“I’m putting together a group of students,” she said, her voice purposefully clear as she obviously intended for the children to hear, “for a special assignment. It’s a chance for the students to assist in enforcing the rules around the school. If you have anyone you’d like to recommend—“ her beady eyes flicked to Potter, “— do let me know Severus.”

“Certainly.”

Severus waited until the door closed behind her before sitting in his chair and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I would be most displeased if any of my students who should be focused on their OWLS were to join such an insipid group,” he said wearily, not even minding that he was sharing his advice with the Gryffindor students. “Is that understood?”

“Like any of us would join her little group,” Potter snorted to general murmured agreements. “She’s mad.”

Severus glared half-heartedly at Potter. He would hardly mention it in front of the other students, but Dolores was only here thanks to Potter’s manipulations within the ministry...

... and likely due to the fact he had personally frightened away any other defense applicants with his treatment of the prior professors.

Brat.

With his ‘inspection’ now complete, and a mere week until the holiday break, Severus naively believed that perhaps he could reach the new year without any further upsets.

Which is why the universe decided to throw what was perhaps the most shocking upset his way on Friday morning at breakfast. By the time Severus made it to his seat, having been temporarily distracted by the sudden disappearance of Nymphadora from her usual post in his corridor, the Great Hall was buzzing with shock.

“What have I missed?” Severus asked Minerva immediately.

“Here.” Minerva’s face was pinched and drawn with worry as she gave him her paper. “Look.”

Severus looked down at the Daily Prophet and Nymphadora’s abrupt departure from their morning routine was explained by the headline:

MASS AZKABAN BREAKOUT!
Dark Lord Barty breaks out Death Eaters!

Severus read with horror as Skeeter described the three newly released inmates.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Antonin Dolohov.

Augustus Rookwood.

Severus did not bother to hide his revulsion at their escape. Bellatrix and her husband were quite mad before their incarceration, he cannot imagine that fourteen years in Azkaban softened that madness any.

He also felt a spasm of true fear as the mastermind behind the breakout was credited to Barty. The Dark Lord was not going to be pleased to have his work accredited to one of his followers.

Thank Merlin Barty was secure within Spinner’s End...

Barty would be twice as secure come Wednesday when he relocates to Invisibility Way with the others for the holiday. Severus wondered if he could convince him to make it a permanent residence; Potter’s purchase of the safe house no longer seemed such a foolish purchase.

Severus unconsciously looked toward Potter, who had his head bent and was speaking solemnly with his misfits. Longbottom, in particular, looked terribly pale and angry, as was to be expected, but he was hardly Severus’ concern.

It was perhaps selfish, to only be concerned with Potter’s welfare, but Severus had no time to be magnanimous as he considered the level of rage the Dark Lord would feel at this slight by the news. He had never despised the connection between Potter and the Dark Lord more as he worried over who was likely a top contender to be a target for that rage...

Do not let the child be caught in the fallout...

Chapter Text

Saturday December 18

“Harry, Fred, come on in!” Remus smiled brightly at the pair stepping out of the floo he had set up directly in his office at Moon Lodge. “Welcome! Have a seat.”

Fred plopped down gracelessly in his usual spot, smiling encouragingly at Harry. Harry gave Fred a sort of long suffering look before warily sitting down beside him.

“How’s school going?” Remus asked, hoping to put them at ease with a little small talk before beginning. “It’s a big year for you both.”

“We aren’t too fussed about the exams,” Fred said with an airy flip of his hand. “I’ve already got a business ready to go and Harry could pass the practicals with his eyes closed.”

“Think I’d get extra points if I did that?” Harry asked Fred curiously.

“You probably would,” Remus said with an easy grin. “Wouldn’t hurt either of you to do a bit of studying for the written part though.”

The identical looks of disdain the boys gave him had him chuckling and holding his hands up placatingly. “Or not,” he conceded. “How’s the club going?”

“Wicked,” Fred answered for them again, looking both proud and ridiculously in love as he smiled at Harry. “Harry gave everyone in the club a pocketknife for Christmas at the last meeting.”

Remus had enjoyed teaching, he enjoyed teaching the kids in the pack now, but by Merlin he’d never been so relieved that Harry had forced his resignation before.

“You gave knives to every student in your club?” he asked incredulously, forgetting his role for a moment.

“Not if Snape or McGonagall asks I didn’t,” Harry smirked. “No point in teaching them to defend themselves if they don’t have the weapon when a fight happens, is there?”

“I suppose not,” Remus thoughtfully agreed despite himself. He sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and hoping to communicate friendly body language. “Anything else exciting happening?”

“Suppose you didn’t schedule us to come in and talk about the escaped death eaters?” Harry asked wryly.

“I did not,” Remus chuckled. “But we could set up a day for you to come if you’d like to talk about that?”

“No,” Harry rolled his eyes and sank back on the tan sofa beside Fred. He gave Fred an accusatory look, leaving no doubt as to who it was that convinced Harry to come along today.

“Well then how are the two of you doing? Happy to be back together?” Remus asked, aiming his questions at them both.

“I was,” Harry muttered sullenly, giving Fred another unimpressed look.

“You still are,” Fred grinned, winking at him and slowly stretching his hand over to hold Harry’s. “Plus you know Snape said it was a good idea.”

“Snape’s had bad ideas before,” Harry said.

“Has he?” Remus asked with partial curiosity and partially to attempt to prove a point. “Like what?”

Harry sat there, blinking quietly for a long minute. The longer it took Harry to speak up, the broader Fred’s smile grew.

“See?” Fred said. “No bad ideas.”

“I’m sure he’s had at least one,” Harry huffed, drawing a small smile from Remus. “But I said I’d come, didn’t I? I’m here.”

“You are here,” Remus agreed. “Which I’m sure means a lot to Fred.”

“It does,” Fred said with a softer and more genuine smile. “It means a lot to me, darlin.”

Harry seemed reluctant to smile back, but his shoulders did relax from the tense position they had been in since he arrived. Remus took it as a positive sign and forged ahead.

“Why does it mean a lot to you that Harry came?” he asked Fred.

Fred twisted his lips up in thought before answering slowly. “Well it’s like you said, that if people want a relationship to work that they have to put in work, so if Harry’s willing to do something like this then he wants us to work, right?” Fred directed that last bit at Harry with a nervous sort of look that Remus wasn’t used to seeing on him.

Harry glanced at Remus quickly before turning his focus on Fred, apparently deciding to ignore his presence for the time being. “Course I do,” he said. “I told you I was sorry about before.”

“What happened before?” Remus asked with forced neutrality in his tone. He knew what Fred told him, but it would be nice to get Harry’s viewpoint directly as well.

“We broke up,” Harry said shortly, but lacking any real bite to his tone.

Remus was pleased that Fred was the one to attempt to encourage Harry to expand on that answer.

“Bit more than that,” Fred said gently. Remus saw him squeeze Harry’s hand and give him a light smile. “I told you Lupin’s a lot better at advice than he was teaching.”

Which was a rather insulting, heartening, and an intensely gratifying thing to say.

Remus had loved teaching, he always thought it was his passion in life, until Severus introduced him to mind healing and counseling. The more he studied, the more he learned, he realized that this was his passion, his calling, his place to make a difference.

Just another debt he could never truly repay Severus for.

“If you don’t want to talk about that right now, we don’t have to,” Remus assured Harry. “You could tell me instead what you hope to get from this?”

“From this?” Harry waved his free hand lightly around, indicating the three of them.

“Yes.”

“I...” Harry glanced curiously at Fred, “I don’t know,” he said, speaking to Fred mostly. “What d’you want from this?”

“Honestly?” Fred asked him. “I want us to be able to talk about stuff even when it’s hard, I don’t want us to break up again because we couldn’t talk something out.”

Remus was so proud of Fred for saying that. The two of them had been meeting regularly since he spoke with Severus about Fred’s second-hand trauma and for Fred to be able to say something potentially upsetting to Harry calmly like that? It was undeniable proof of the growth he was making.

“That’s... er... that’s a good goal,” Harry said with a slow nod. He looked back at Remus, “Can that be mine too?”

Remus had read over the transcripts Severus provided of their session with the muggle mind healer, and the fact that Harry was asking if he could use the same goal as Fred or not was proof that Harry was actually taking this seriously.

Which played in to Harry’s character as Remus knew it rather well. Harry didn’t care much for his own mental health and well-being, but was exceedingly concerned with not losing someone that he believes to be his.

And Fred was so obviously Harry’s that Remus doubted a single person on earth could be more in love with that boy than Fred was.

Remus truly couldn’t be happier that Harry and Fred had gotten back together. They were an odd match, not one that Remus would have immediately guessed at, but perfect nonetheless.

“I don’t see why not,” Remus said. “So you both would like to have better communication, and for difficult topics to not be avoided by ending the relationship, right?”

“Right,” they echoed.

“Great, what are some ways you think that could happen?”

The suddenly clueless look on Fred’s face and the carefully blank one on Harry’s was answer enough.

Remus thought about their specific most recent problem that caused their separation. “What makes certain subjects difficult to talk about? Harry?”

“Dunno.”

Remus privately thought that counseling would be more straightforward if he could use Veritaserum. It wouldn’t foster trust between him and the client (of which he actually only had two), but it would get answers.

“Can you try and think of what goes through your head when a difficult topic comes up?” he cajoled Harry gently. “Such as right now?”

Harry twitched a bit, his left hand flexing a few times, but Remus and Fred both waited patiently for him to answer.

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?” Harry finally said with a huff.

Remus held up a hand when Fred opened his mouth. Someone desperately needed to make Harry understand that talking about your problems didn’t make him any less of a man.

Merlin above knew Harry had plenty problems.

“Embarrassing or shameful?” Remus asked patiently.

“Er... the second one,” Harry said. “I think it makes me sound stupid and pathetic to talk about some stuff.”

Weak, is what Remus thought Harry meant.

“It doesn’t,” Fred told him quickly. “I like when you talk to me about stuff that’s bothering you.”

”Fred’s right,” Remus told Harry. “Talking about your thoughts and feelings isn’t pathetic, it takes quite a bit of strength to do so.” He left it there, giving Harry an opportunity to think that over while he turned to Fred.

“What about you Fred?” Remus asked him. “What makes certain subjects difficult for you to talk about with Harry?”

Remus and Fred had already discussed this in their private meetings, so he wasn’t surprised by Fred’s immediate answer.

“I don’t want to upset Harry or make him feel like he’s got to tell me something if he doesn’t want to.”

Harry looked up at Fred with his mouth parted in a little surprised ‘o’.

“Like what?” he asked hotly.

“Like the sex thing,” Fred said patiently. “I want to talk about what happened, but you don’t, so I don’t bring it up.”

Harry scowled, his cheeks turning a faint red, before snatching his hand out of Fred’s and crossing his arms with his fists tucked beneath his armpits. “You just did,” he muttered with a quick glance at both Remus and the door.

“We do not have to talk about that,” Remus told them both. “I’m not here to solve your guys’ problems, I’m here to help you find ways to talk about those problems and find solutions together.”

Harry’s jaw seemed to unclench at that, but it was Fred who now looked surprised.

“You’ve been helping me solve problems for weeks now!” he protested. “Why wouldn’t you help with this?”

“You’ve been solving your own problems,” Remus told him. “I’ve just been guiding you to finding solutions on your own. It’s you guys who have to put the work in, I can only offer advice.”

“Seems like an easy gig,” Harry scoffed with a small side-eyed grin for Fred.

“Easier than teaching defense,” Fred said teasingly, clearly eager to get Harry out of the guarded pose he held.

“Less risk of being tortured by Susan anyway,” Remus said with mock-solemnity.

“She’s scarier than Harry,” Fred agreed, causing Harry to chuckle and uncross his arms.

“I think she’s brilliant,” Harry said with all the never-ending loyalty that Remus has come to expect of him.

“You would think that,” Fred teased him. He put his left hand on his own knee, an obvious invitation that Harry accepted now.

“Susan’s terror aside, do you both understand what problem the other one has with bringing up and discussing difficult topics?” Remus asked them, attempting to gently guide the conversation back.

Harry let out a small sigh and tried to subtly glance at his watch. Remus wondered if Harry knew he loved Fred or not, because nothing short of an intense love clearly could have gotten Harry to voluntarily come here and talk as much as he had so far.

“I get it,” Fred said. He ruffled the back of his hair and shrugged. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Why don’t you like it?” Remus asked.

Fred looked hesitant, but Remus was pleased to see Harry, despite his bored expression, squeezed his hand lightly.

“Well, it’s like I told Harry before, it makes me think he doesn’t trust me to stick around through the hard times, even though I told him I would.”

“I told you ab—“

“Hold on,” Remus cut Harry off. “Can you see where Fred’s coming from?”

Harry looked up at the ceiling, then over at Fred, then at the wall behind Remus’ head before answering. “I guess so.”

“Good, and what are you thinking now?”

“That it’s bullshit,” Harry said stubbornly. “Cause I’ve told him loads of stuff.”

“You can’t just say that my feelings are bullshit,” Fred rolled his eyes. “I don’t say yours are.”

“I don’t have feelings,” Harry scowled. “And this is fucking stupid.”

“Why is this stupid?” Remus asked, unsurprised that Harry was pushing back.

“Cause I’ve told him loads of things, haven’t I? But— what? They don’t count now?”

“Do you talk about the things you say?”

Harry’s irritated expression was wiped away at that. “What?”

“Do you talk about the things you’ve told Fred or do you just tell him something then move on?”

Both boys looked thoughtful now as they likely considered past conversations.

“I— what’s— why does that matter?” Harry asked. “It’s the same difference, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Remus explained patiently. “If you just say things and don’t discuss it then Fred doesn’t have a chance to share his feelings on the matter. Same thing goes for him. A conversation, all communication really, needs to be a two way street to be healthy.”

“That makes sense...” Fred said slowly.

Harry didn’t look so similarly convinced, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“Do you guys think that’s something you can work on? Having a conversation instead of just saying things?”

Fred nodded quickly, Harry jerked his chin in what was probably the most of an agreement Remus would get.

“Alright gentlemen, so our time’s about up, Severus will be waiting for you to get back. But, I do have a small bit of homework for you before you come back next month—“

“Next month?” Harry looked startled now. “Why are we coming back?”

Fred squeezed his hand this time and gave him such a serious look that Remus let him handle this one.

“We don’t have to, not if you really don’t want to. But I love you, and I think this would make everything easier for us. Plus,” he grinned mischievously now, “an hour away from school? I think it’s a win-win darlin.”

Remus all but held his breath as he waited for Harry to decide. The two of them held eye contact for what seemed to be a very long moment, Fred silently asking and Harry considering, before Harry sighed heavily.

“Brill. What’s this homework then?”

“No essays,” Remus said with an easy smile, relieved that Harry would willingly come back. “All I want you guys to do in the next month is have a conversation about something important, it doesn’t matter what as long as it’s about the two of you. Not today though,” he added as he remembered something one of his professors at University had mentioned about not making counseling days all work. “Today just do something fun. It’s probably a bit cold for flying, but...” Remus trailed off at the looks he was getting.

“It’s never too cold for flying,” Fred said.

“You have heard of a heating charm, yeah?” Harry added with a smirk.

“Fine, fine, go flying then,” Remus chuckled. “Just nothing serious today, okay?”

“Done,” Harry agreed, jumping to his feet quickly. He tugged on Fred’s hand, urging him to his feet, obviously eager to leave.

Which was fine. He’d agreed to come back, and if nothing else— Harry was a man of his word.

And Fred Weasley was apparently a miracle worker.

“Thanks Lupin,” Fred said cheerfully. “I guess we’ll see you in a few days?”

“Molly’s letting you spend Christmas Break with Harry?” Remus was surprised by that, Molly hadn’t mentioned it last time he was at Grimmauld for a meeting.

“Kind of,” Fred said cagily. “We said we didn’t want to spend our holiday at Grimmauld Place, then Ronnie told her if we could stay with Harry then we’d come over Christmas Eve and stay til Boxing Day, but if not then we were all staying at Hogwarts.”

“That was quite a cunning plan,” Remus smiled approvingly.

“Ron’s idea,” Harry said proudly. “He’s a bloody genius, isn’t he?”

“He’d have to be or else he’d just be an extra redhead,” Fred winked at Harry.

Harry smacked his arm with a small, and genuine, smile of his own. “Ready to go?”

“Alright then, later Lupin.”

Remus got up to wave the boys off as they floo’d back to Severus’ office. Once they were gone, he went to the small desk he’d put in the corner of the room and grabbed his parchment and quill.

They didn’t have any miraculous breakthroughs today, but Remus hadn’t expected them to. Harry was a tough nut to crack, and Fred was obviously more concerned with Harry’s comfort than their communication. It was going to take time, and effort, to get them to a place where they were just as comfortable having painful conversations as they were with holding hands, but Remus truly didn’t see the two of them not working it out.

He smiled as he looked at their notes from today and the list of things he hoped to accomplish in their next few sessions.

All in all, Remus thought it was a decent days work.

Chapter Text

Saturday December 18

”CRUCIO!”

Lucius didn’t bother to hold back his scream, nor did he attempt to withhold his thrashing, as a pain worse than any other seemingly lit every nerve in his body on fire.

It didn’t matter if he looked like a fool screaming and thrashing on the floor, the Dark Lord would accept nothing else. It wasn’t difficult to act as if this were the worst physical pain imaginable, for it was.

“You continue to disappoint me,” the Dark Lord ended the curse. He stood over Lucius’ knelt position on the floor before him and watched with a cold disinterest as Lucius struggled to righten himself.

“My Lord, please, I’m sorry.” Lucius crawled forward to kiss the hems of the black robes before him.

“Will you?” Voldemort hissed, furious with Lucius’ failure. “You have accomplished nothing Lucius! I expected better!”

As if it were Lucius’ fault that even an Unspeakable was unable to retrieve a prophecy from the Hall of Mysteries. Lucius hadn’t been surprised in the least when word was leaked that Bode, the employee he had imperiused to fetch a prophecy from the hall, was found foaming at the mouth and had to be taken to St Mungo’s. To an extent, Lucius had counted on this outcome. It was an easy cover to continue hiding the fact that the prophecy was no longer in the Ministry, hadn’t been in years.

Lucius had a part to play though, so he lowered himself to groveling and sniveling for another opportunity to prove himself worthy until the Dark Lord tired of hearing it.

“Go,” he ordered Lucius. Lucius scrambled to his feet, backing away in a hunched bow until he rejoined the line with the others.

“It’s a shame that your son isn’t with us, perhaps he’d prove more useful than his father,” Voldemort said in a mocking hiss, causing the others to laugh gleefully at Lucius’ disfavor.

Which was abhorrent behavior considering many of them were residing within his walls. Eating his food, clothed by his coin.

Ingrates.

“I have no son,” Lucius snarled. It hurt him to say it, tore at his very soul, but he had to play his part. He couldn’t risk his family’s safety, nor his own, by behaving in a manner of his own choosing.

It was fools who did such things. Fools and Harry Potter.

“What of you Bella?” Voldemort ran a single skeletal finger down his snakes body as he sat in the throne he’d had placed in the middle of Lucius’ sitting room. “Do you have no nephew now? Or perhaps will you join your sister and family on Harry Potter’s side?”

Bellatrix let out a disturbingly mad snarl and stepped closer to the Dark Lord. “Never!” she swore passionately. “I would kill them myself if it would make you happy my Lord.”

Lucius thanked Mother Magic above that Narcissa was safely hidden out of the country, under the protection of the Italian Contessa and that Draco was under the much more formidable protection of Potter himself.

“You would, wouldn’t you darling Bella?”

Bellatrix was all but quivering with joy as the Dark Lord continued speaking at her.

“Yes my Lord! Anything for you! I would kill anyone who opposes you!” Bellatrix cried.

The others were silent as the watched, not even Rodolphus dared lift his eyes from the floor.

“You would kill your sister for me? Your nephew? What of your cousin, Black?” Voldemort asked softly.

“I would bring you their heads my Lord!”

“Albus Dumbledore?”

“Nothing would make me happier!” Bellatrix said.

“Would you kill Harry Potter?” Voldemort asked her, his tone that of a curious child. “The ‘Boy-Who-Lived’? Would you kill him Bella?”

“I’ll do it now my Lord!”

Mistake.

Voldemort raised his wand lazily, “Crucio!”

Lucius didn’t know why the Dark Lord bothered to curse Bellatrix. Ever since she had arrived at his home with the others, covered in filth and physically wasted away with shadows filling their eyes, she had seemingly embraced insanity to the point where this... this mad cackling was the only reaction to the same spell that had Lucius longing for death.

It was luck that Lucius had been betrothed to Narcissa, he would have ended his life years ago had he tied himself to Bellatrix in such a way.

“The boy is not to be touched,” Voldemort hissed, releasing Bellatrix from his curse. “Your orders are simple— leave the boy alone and bring me all the information you can. Rowle! What have you discovered?”

Thorfinn Rowle jumped into an immediate bow as he addressed their Lord. “The boy was residing with muggle relatives before he was expelled in his second year my Lord.”

“Why was he expelled?”

“Dumbledore believed he was responsible for numerous attacks on fellow students,” Rowle said, no doubt quoting old articles from the Prophet. “After his expulsion, the muggles kicked him out. He was missing for quite some time before moving in with Snape.”

“You are telling me nothing I could not have read about myself,” Voldemort hissed. “Crucio!!”

It wasn’t that the torturous curse lacked motivation, it just became rather commonplace when used in such abundance, Lucius mused to himself as Rowle’s screams echoed around the opulent room. Potter would certainly never reuse the same curse so many times.

Lucius envied Barty and Severus. They had certainly gained choice positions within their alliance. Had Lucius made a poor decision by placing the diary in the Weasley girls possession? Certainly. He personally didn’t believe that it was nearly as poor of a decision as entering Potter in the Triwizard Tournament in an effort to deliver him to the Dark Lord, but apparently that was more easily forgiven as Barty is more interesting to Potter than Lucius is. According to Severus anyway, who shared that information when Lucius had bemoaned his position during their brief meeting in August.

Lucius knew he should have adopted Potter when he had been a mere boy seeking temporary solace within this very manor summers ago.

“You have all disappointed me,” Voldemort said once Rowle’s whimpers tapered off. “I return, prepared to clear the world for you, and this is the best you can offer me? Regurgitated news stories and failure to procure the prophecy I need?”

Not a single person in the room was brave, or brainless, enough to respond. Voldemort sighed and hissed something to Nagini, who hissed back almost soothingly.

“The boy is an anomaly,” Voldemort said softly. “He has gifts that any of you would die to have. He carries a strange, if much lesser, likeness to myself... What do I do with the boy?”

If Lucius, Potter, and the Dark Lord were all still alive by the next time Potter’s alliance was meant to meet, Lucius would need to ask Potter what he has done to pique the Dark Lord’s curiosity even further than it had been.

“It is no matter for now,” Voldemort eventually said after a lengthy conversation with Nagini. “I’ll capture Potter soon enough and discover his secrets,” he decided. His cold red eyes flicked over the assembled Death Eaters once more. “Do we have any news on ‘Dark Lord Barty’?” he sneered the name.

Lucius braced himself, knowing what was likely to come at the end of his report, but needing to say it regardless.

“My Lord,” he bent over in a reverent bow as he addressed the madman before him. “I have heard whispers within the DMLE that believe Crouch Junior has went the same way as Nott Senior. Foster told me that many believe the boy is fabricating Crouch’s actions to hide his crime.”

And if Joan Foster was questioned by their Lord, she would repeat that exact sentiment. Unless someone managed to break his very strong imperio, a daunting task if he does say so himself.

Instead of angry, the Dark Lord looked thoughtful at this. “The boy is an anomaly...” he said again. “If Barty is not dead, then he has left us and will be killed along with the traitor Severus,” he said with more icy determination. “If any of you see either of them— kill them. I want Potter unharmed, the others don’t matter.”

“Yes my Lord,” the fourteen assembled Death Eaters replied with dutiful reverence.

Lucius might be concerned for Severus’ safety if he didn’t know the man could out duel any Wixen within this room, aside from the Dark Lord.

The scars Severus no doubt wore on his chest from June was a testament to that.

“Macnair, Travers, remain. I have a job for you,” Voldemort said coolly, a blatant dismissal for the rest of them.

The others bowed deeply, murmuring praises, as they backed out of the sitting room hastily.

Except for Bellatrix, who lingered in the doorway, attempting to cloak herself in the shadows, until the Dark Lord gave her an icy look of contempt and she followed behind the others.

“Are we supposed to leave and go home or stay here?” Crabbe asked once they were far enough from the sitting room that his low grunt couldn’t be heard.

The only thing Lucius desired less than inviting the others to dine with him was interpreting the Dark Lords dismissal incorrectly and facing his wrath.

“Come,” he said curtly, attempting to maintain some dignity despite the circumstances. “We will have dinner together and await new orders.”

It was unsightly, and an overall taxing task, to share his home and meals with the followers of the Dark Lord, but Lucius was hardly a man who couldn’t play nice when needed.

Even if Bellatrix made it a truly ghastly experience.

The mad witch simply refused to keep her mouth closed. Throughout the few house-elves who remained within the manor (Narcissa always did have a soft spot for the creatures) Bellatrix ranted about Lucius’ lack of finery, Lucius’ lack of family, and Lucius’ lack of honor.

As if they were not all things gone due to the madman whose boots she kisses so lavishly.

It was a task to simply turn the other cheek, but Lucius had done well up until she began disparaging Draco.

“Maybe I’ll kill Cissy myself and you can have a chance to get a broodmare to give you a real heir,” she cackled. “An heir who isn’t some worthless, disgusting, traitor—“

“Perhaps I will kill you myself to give Rodolphus an opportunity for an heir untainted by your madness.” Lucius dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin and raised his brow at his sister-in-law in a blatant challenge.

The others were silent, their clinking dinnerware and whispered conversations falling on the wayside as the waited for Bellatrix’s attack.

Bellatrix’s light grey eyes blazed as shadows fell over her face. Lucius gripped the head of his cane, prepared to pull his wand out in an instant. Then, just as quickly as the shadows appeared in her eyes, they disappeared. Bellatrix threw her head back, her tangled black curls swaying as she did, and she laughed.

“Aww, wittle Lucy has a spine after all!” she said in a wheedling and infantile tone. “I thought maybe Cissy took your backbone when she took your son.”

“And I believed Azkaban took both your youth and what remained of your sanity, yet here we sit,” Lucius drawled. “Do close your mouth Bella,” he added with a sneer as she gaped at him.

Honestly. How someone as refined and regal as Narcissa had been raised in the same home as Bellatrix was a never-ending mystery to Lucius. The two sisters were as different in personality as they were the color of their hair.

Lucius awaited Bellatrix’s retaliation, but she was distracted by Alecto’s quiet snickering.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, boldly turning her back to Lucius as she glowered at Alecto.

“Nothin’,” he leered.

Lucius would have preferred an all out duel to destroy his dining room over the ridiculous, and juvenile, bickering that broke out between the three Lestrange’s and the two Carrow’s.

Potter’s alliance could nearly be considered noble company as compared to these dregs of ignorance that Lucius is forced to play host to.

He would give quite a bit of the gold within his vaults to trade positions with even Lupin. Surely even the werewolves Lupin cared for had better sense than to throw mashed turnips at one another.

The Dark Lord’s army was disappointing indeed. Lucius tried to remember if it had been more refined before— before Potter caused the fall of the Dark Lord, before Lucius realigned himself with the boy, before his family was torn in half— certainly it must have been.

He would never have joined otherwise.

The group seemed to split off in fragments, disjointed bits of conversations reaching Lucius’ ears as he pushed away his half-eaten meal.

He wondered how Narcissa was enjoying Italy. How Draco’s fifth year was going. Did Narcissa know he mourned their forced separation? Did Draco believe his disinherited status was anything other than a ruse for the Dark Lord?

Lucius eyes roamed casually over those that he was sharing a table with and he grimaced lightly in obvious distaste.

Disturbed and disturbing were the only fitting describers for these Wixen. Although, Rookwood, Travers, and Yaxley were bearable in small doses.

“Are you allowed to share your mission?” Rookwood asked Macnair and Travers, pulling Lucius’ attention to the plotting and whispering duo who had rejoined them partway through the meal.

“I guess so,” Travers said slowly. He shared a look with Macnair, who grimaced and shrugged. “We’re just taking Nagini to the Department of Mysteries. He didn’t say if it’s to do some recon on the area or if He thinks she might be able to get the prophecy.”

Macnair had an expression of distaste as he stabbed harshly at his food, surprisingly not pleased with their mission.

“At least it’s something easy, something you can’t bugger up,” Rookwood smirked, mirroring Lucius’ thoughts.

“If it doesn’t bloody eat us,” Macnair muttered.

None of the others commented, save a scathing noise from Bellatrix. Lucius was relieved when the conversation moved to politics— a much less likely topic to result in their individual torture.

Although, Lucius was fairly certain that listening to the Lestrange brothers bicker over a decade old political bill regarding the security of Gringotts investments was a type of torture in itself.

Once the guests had gone, the Dark Lord retired away in what used to be Lucius and Narcissa’s suite, and Bellatrix and the other recently released convicts had hidden away in their own rooms, Lucius laid in his sons bed and prayed for the first time in years.

Mother Magic, the maker of all of us, see me through this so that I may one day have my family back, my home back, my dignity back. And Mother Magic, kindly grant Harry Potter the wisdom he desperately requires to kill the Dark Lord soon.

Chapter Text

Sunday December 19

“Ginny said that if her team beats Hufflepuff by over 300 points, and Slytherin loses to Hufflepuff by at least 200 points that Gryffindor still has a chance at the cup.”

“Did all of our children have to be so obsessed with that sport?” Molly huffed from the kitchen. “Or could they at least be on the same team? I don’t know who we’re supposed to root for.”

Arthur chuckled at their conundrum, ignoring the pang as he thought of their one child who wasn’t a quidditch fan, the one who cut them off and pretended they weren’t related, and read off a bit more of Ginny’s letter to his wife. “She says Umbridge is ‘a foul woman’ but that she’s studying defense with a group of other Gryffindors.”

“I thought Ron said that his friends started a defense club?” Molly came out of the kitchen and eyed the dining room carefully. “Why wouldn’t she just join them?”

“She didn’t say,” Arthur frowned at the letter from their daughter. “I guess we’ll ask her when she comes home on Tuesday.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell the boys to come home as well?” Molly asked, bringing up the same discussion they’d had a dozen times in the last two weeks. “Four teenaged boys is a lot for Severus to handle on his own.”

Arthur was fairly certain it would be at least six teenage boys. From what the news said, Theo Nott had moved in with Harry when his father was killed and judging from what Ron‘s told them about his friend Draco, and what Arthur’s heard around the office, it sounded like the Malfoy heir didn’t have a home to go back to either.

But that wasn’t helpful to bring up right now, so he wisely didn’t mention it.

“Severus deals with the boys plus many more teenagers every day,” he reminded Molly. “They’ll be fine. And we’ll see them on the 24th.”

Molly let out a sigh of defeat, not that it fooled Arthur. He knew his wife well enough to know they’d talk about it at least twice more before Tuesday.

“Honey, would you be a dear and fetch the chairs from the pantry? I’m not sure who all’s coming, and I’d hate to not have a seat for them.”

Arthur counted the twenty chairs Molly had already fussed over and chuckled. “Sweetheart, we don’t need this many chairs. It’s just a quick check-in with the usual members.”

Molly straightened up from where she’d been straightening the tablecloth spread across the dark wooden table and counted the chairs herself.

“Wishful thinking I guess,” she sighed, twisting her hands in the white apron she donned. “I’m glad the boys are staying out of all this, but...”

“But we thought Bill would be here,” Arthur supplied with a gentle smile. “It’s not selfish to wish our son was here with us.”

“It is when there’s a war,” Molly said with pursed lips. “I should be glad he didn’t want to join, except it’s— it’s that girl,” she said in a rush. “I feel like she’s tearing him away from us.”

“Molly.” Arthur got to his feet heavily, feeling both his age and over twenty years of his wife’s cooking hit him all at once. He went over to his fretting wife and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his chest for a reassuring hug. “Fleur is not taking Bill from us. He’s a grown man sweetheart, it’s time he settled down and got along with courting someone.”

“Did she have to be French?” Molly wailed, driving a smile to Arthur’s face.

“You lose a fight to one French witch and suddenly the whole lot of them are worthless,” he teased her, bringing up the dueling match Molly participated in under Filius’ tutelage back when they were students. Arthur had always known that Molly Prewett was pretty, gentle when she spoke with others, smart when she studied with him— but when he saw her duel against the French girl from Ravenclaw, he knew she was fierce too.

And he knew he was going to marry her or die trying.

“Fleur’s a lovely girl,” he reassured her. “Pretty and sharp as a whip, just the sort for our Bill.”

“And tied to Harry to boot,” Molly sighed, pulling gently out of Arthur’s arms.

Arthur smiled gently again. Molly doted on Harry, had already planned out a wedding between their son and Harry, but she was frustrated by the complaints of Albus about him.

“Harry’s a good lad,” he said, sitting back down as Molly began floating dishes out to the table. Arthur would owe Harry Potter a debt for the rest of their lives for how he went and fought a basilisk to save his daughters life. He hoped that maybe him raising Fred to be a good man with a loyal and true heart would be a step towards repaying that debt. Weasley men didn’t fall in love easily, but once they did— that was it.

Molly had been the only one for Arthur. Arthur knew that Fleur was it for Bill. And Harry was definitely it for Fred, especially considering how much time the two boys spent together... Molly might have believed Fred’s story of spending most of his summer nights at Lee Jordan’s house, but Arthur wasn’t quite so naive when it came to his sons. Fred had never stayed at Lee’s house so often, or without George, until he started seeing Harry. He’d let it slide though, Severus would send his son back cursed nine ways to Sunday if anything untoward happened between the boys.

“Fred loves him, and you know Fred’s got good instincts,” Arthur said firmly. “If Fleur and Harry are friends, then I think that says quite a lot for Fleur’s instincts as well.”

Molly’s head snapped up at that, and she gave him such a look of disbelief that Arthur began chuckling.

“Fred has the worst instincts in the family...” Molly said slowly, watching as Arthur was bent over at the waist, tears pooling in his eyes from the laughing fit. “Arthur... Fred tried to bring home a dragon egg when we went to visit Charlie.”

“No self-preservation in him,” Arthur laughed again. “But he’s got good instincts when it comes to people at least.”

Molly still looked completely, adorably, disbelieving, but the floo began flaring to life, calling the meeting to order and their disagreement to be moved to the back burner.

It wound up being a small enough gathering, only nine of them in total. Remus, poor chap, was recovering from the full moon last night, and Kingsley was still on guard duty at the Ministry until Arthur got there after the meeting to swap him out.

Arthur took his place at the table after helping Molly bring out the dinner she’d made for everyone and held back a chuckle at Mundungus’ lump filled trench coat. That man was a perfect example of why you should never judge an ally by their looks, Dung had done just as much for the Order as anyone with the information he was able to report back to them.

Not that the Order was able to do much... Arthur thought with a small amount of frustration. He knew that Dark Lords weren’t defeated in a day, but they’d struggled in every area they’d worked in. Recruiting was non-existent, none of them could convince any of their ministry co-workers to join, Remus had been unable to convince any of the werewolves to agree not to join Voldemort. The most they’d really accomplished was keeping the prophecy safe. Tonight though they were all waiting for Albus to arrive to fill them in on Harry and what was next for their group.

Albus had been adamant that Harry wouldn’t be allowed to join the Order, saying he was too young, too impulsive, too prone to lying. Then at the end of summer, he switched his stance and was determined to convince Harry to join them. Arthur would have been concerned for the boy, but he was sure just from the couple of times he met the boys’ friend that Harry didn’t do a single thing he didn’t want to do.

“Arthur! How’s it going?” Sirius came through the floo and was the last of the order members to join them, aside from Albus. “Is my mother driving you mad yet?”

“It’s been fine,” Arthur said with good natured politeness. “She’s been rather quiet since Kreacher left.”

She hadn’t. In fact, Walburga Black seemed more determined to drive Arthur and Molly out than ever before, but Sirius was being good letting them stay here ever since Albus began worrying for their safety, and insulting his mother wasn’t a good way to repay that kindness.

“Well good.” Sirius took his seat beside Amelia, giving the witch one of his charming smiles before turning back to Arthur. “If she starts up again let me know and I’ll see if Harry can’t take a look over break.”

“You think the boy can do something we couldn’t?” Alastor grunted, squinting suspiciously at Sirius.

“If anyone can find a way to destroy an indestructible painting, it would be Harry,” Minerva said primly, a proud gleam in her eyes.

“Kid like that raised by Snape? Not surprising,” Alastor muttered. Minerva, Sirius, and Molly all gave him disproving looks, but before anyone could start an argument (and Arthur thought Sirius’ hand twitched towards his wand), the floo flashed green once more and Albus stepped out.

“I’m sorry for my delay,” he said as he took his place at the head of the table. “I was in a meeting with one of the professors.”

“Dolores no doubt,” Minerva scoffed. “What is her complaint today?”

“The same as it has been.” Albus sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his spectacles. “She would like to speak with Hagrid, who should be back within a month, and Dolores has placed Sybill on probation. I’m afraid she’ll be moving to fire her soon.”

“No loss there,” Tonks laughed. “Everyone knows the old bats a fraud.”

“She’s made at least one true prediction,” Albus said, sobering Tonks quickly.

“Guess so,” Tonks mumbled, ruffling her pink locks nervously.

“I certainly have no objection with our students obtaining a worthwhile education on divination, but surely Sybill can’t be allowed to leave the grounds?” Minerva said.

“She cannot,” Albus agreed lightly. “Dolores may be unaware that only the Headmaster of the school is able to evict a guest residing within the walls.” Everyone seemed to breath a little easier at that, until Albus went on. “Not that I anticipate remaining the Headmaster for much longer.”

“You believe you’ll be ousted soon?” Amelia asked curtly.

Albus steepled his hands together beneath his chin and gave Amelia a steady look. “Do you not?”

“I do.” Arthur shared a sly look with Sirius at Amelia’s unflappable tone as she challenged Albus once again. Arthur and Remus had a bit of a wager going on how much longer until Amelia said ‘bugger it’ to the Order.

“What’s her excuse?” Alastor asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I do know that when Dolores makes a move, she’ll make it with the full backing of the minister,” Albus said calmly. “In which case, Minerva? I can trust you once more to protect the students?”

Minerva drew herself up straight and nodded. “I will do as much as I can if it comes.”

“Excellent.” Albus gave the rest of them a cheerful twinkling eyed look that Arthur thought was a bit odd considering the current topic, but Albus was an odd man. “What else did we need to discuss tonight?”

“I can’t get anyone else to join from my department,” Tonks shrugged carelessly, her youthful face unrepentant. “Nobody believes it’s You-Know-Who and nobody’s interested in joining a group against him.”

“I haven’t had much luck either,” Arthur admitted. Not that he had pushed too hard around his office, his ability to provide for his family had to come before recruiting witches and wizards to the Order.

“Has Potter decided to fess up about Voldemort?” Alastor asked Albus.

“He has not,” Albus sighed.

“Don’t start that again,” Sirius warned the two of them. “I’m not sitting here and listening to you lot call my godson a bloody liar.”

“How do you explain the discrepancy between Harry’s story and Albus’?” Amelia asked Sirius curiously, having missed the last meeting and the last fight between the two of them.

Arthur was fairly sure that if Amelia wasn’t the first one to leave their group, it would be Sirius.

“Harry was a traumatized fourteen year old, he is saying what he believes to be true,” Sirius said firmly. “You get kidnapped and tortured by the man who got your parents killed and tell me how your memory is.”

“Hey.” Amelia placed a reassuring hand on Sirius’ arm. “I’m not questioning Harry, I was curious what you thought on the matter, that’s all.”

Sirius gave Amelia an appreciative nod before turning a much colder look to Albus. Not that Albus noticed, as he was staring up at the ceiling indifferently.

“What else are we doing tonight? I’ve got places to be,” Alastor prompted the others now that the tense moment had passed.

“Albus, you were going to try and convince a child to join the Order?” Molly’s lips flattened in an unhappy frown that had Arthur reaching for her leg beneath the table.

One of the many things that Arthur loved about his wife, was her maternal instincts to all children. They may not have all the fine things in the world, but Arthur knew that the one thing his children never lacked was a mother who loved and supported each of them fiercely.

Fiercely enough to love and support their friends and partners... Once she accepted they wouldn’t be a wedge between her and her children, as she worried was the case with Fleur.

Everyone turned to inspect Albus closely at Molly’s reminder. The Order had been torn when Albus decided he would attempt to get Harry to join them. Molly, Amelia, Minerva, and Remus had argued that the boy was too young to be included in a wartime group. Arthur, Sirius, Tonks, and Mundungus (who Arthur was sure just voted along with Sirius when he woke up long enough to be involved) believed that while Harry was man enough to join them, Albus would never win him over due to his actions against Harry when he was just a child being placed in an abusive muggle home then unfairly expelled from his school. Kingsley and Alastor caused an uproar as they both argued that Harry was ‘too dark’ and ‘too careless of laws’ to be inducted in a light-oriented group.

Arthur’s lips curled up to a soft grin as he recalled the way that Sirius’ left-hook had surprised Kingsley once the auror accused Harry of being ‘destined for Azkaban.’

“I believe that Voldemort can be defeated without the boys help.”

That wiped the reminiscent smile right off Arthur’s face.

“What?” Arthur leaned forward to narrow his eyes at Albus. “But the prophecy?”

“Not every prophecy comes true,” Albus said. “I believe that this is another case where we should operate without its influence on our decisions.”

“Are you bloody serious?” Sirius jumped to his feet and slammed an angry hand on the table. “My best mates were killed for that damn thing Albus! And now you’re saying it doesn’t have to influence anything?!”

“Harry will not join us, and thus we have no options.” Albus spread his hands out in a show of peace. “What would you have me do Sirius?”

“Maybe you should have tried harder to treat him fairly years ago,” Amelia spat, her aquamarine eyes flashing at Albus as she too got to her feet in a show of support to Sirius. “You turned your back on him, is it any wonder that he’s turned his on you now?”

“The boy has turned his back on not just me, but our people as a whole,” Albus said coolly. “If we aren’t careful, he’ll be the next Dark Lord we meet to discuss.”

Arthur personally wasn’t surprised a bit when Sirius shot off a red curse towards Albus before storming to the front door, a slew of vulgar curses against Albus following him as he went.

He also wasn’t surprised when Amelia gave Albus a withering look before following him. He did suppress a snicker when Mundungus woke up as Sirius slammed the door shut and blinked around wearily.

“All done then?” he slurred sleepily. “S’alright then, g’night lads.”

“They’ll be back,” Albus said with a gentle confidence as the group watched Mundungus stumble to the floo and disappear to the Leaky Cauldron.

Alastor snorted and shared Arthur’s exact thoughts, “You keep telling yourself that Albus.”

The rest of the meeting was short, and argument free, as Albus discussed finding an outsider to infiltrate the Death Eater ranks and one to befriend Harry and his group. Albus’ blue eyes flickered to Molly and Arthur a few times during that discussion. Arthur didn’t need to consult with his wife to know that they were of a single mind on the matter, their children would not be pawns between their Headmaster and their friend.

Arthur imagined that Albus looked worn out and disappointed when he left, but there were times that Albus expected too much of people.

Especially from families, as most of the members of the Order were a part of. Albus didn’t seem to understand that family came first in every situation. There was no greater good in the world than protecting the people you cared about.

“Evening Kingsley,” Arthur murmured to the invisible corner of the corridor where the guard had been posted up at outside the Hall of Prophecies. “If you stop by headquarters Molly can serve you up some stew.”

“Thanks Arthur.” Kingsley’s dark blue robes and tired face appeared beneath Alastor’s invisibility cloak they’d been using for guard duty. “I might do that. Anything new happen tonight?”

“Albus has given up on Harry and thinks the prophecy can be ignored,” Arthur said in a hushed whisper. “He wants to find a spy to join Harry and one to join Voldemort.”

“Pft,” Kingsley scoffed and ran a hand over the top of his bald head. “Prophecies are not road maps to success, they’re predetermined outcomes.”

“I know,” Arthur agreed wearily. “But you know Albus...”

“Indeed,” Kingsley murmured. “Here,” he handed Arthur the cloak. “Hopefully you have better luck staying awake tonight than I did. Caught myself dozing off a few times.”

“Cheers,” Arthur said with a smile. “Have a good night Kingsley.”

“You as well.”

Once Kingsley had departed, and Arthur was hidden beneath Alastor’s cloak, he found a comfortable position near the entrance of the Hall of Prophecies to spend his shift in.

It was dreadfully dull, worse than his office on a Thursday, but Albus swore there wasn’t anything more important than guarding the prophecy. And considering there had been an attempt to seize it just a few days ago, Arthur could see his point.

After an hour though, Arthur was wishing he’d thought to bring along some parchment to wire Ginny back on. Or maybe write another letter to Percy, he hated the disconnect between them. Arthur didn’t know how out of all of his kindhearted and open-minded children, Percy wound up so narrow minded. He didn’t approve of Ron’s placement in Slytherin, he didn’t like Fred’s choice in partners, and he despised Arthur’s fondness for muggles.

Arthur just had to keep hoping that he would get a chance to reconcile with his son soon.

Arthur sat in the corridor, his back against the wall, and dozed off and on... He would close his eyes, only to snap them open minutes later as he kept trying to remind himself that he is supposed to be on guard.

Eventually, his exhaustion won out and he slipped in to sleep against his better judgement. The hum of the lights and occasional overhead footstep the only noises to interrupt his rest.

Arthur’s head snapped up and he instinctively reached for his wand before he acknowledged what had woke him.

“Pl—“

Arthur’s whispered plea was cut off as the giant snake looking in his eyes suddenly hissed and lunged.

“Aargh!”

The snake slithered away, unnoticed now, as Arthur clutched at his chest where the giant fangs had just cut in to him.

“Expecto— expecto patro— patronum,” he whispered, his eyes tearing from the searing burn of the snakes poison coursing through his chest.

“Expecto patro—,” he tried again, but was halted by a cough, a cough that caused the blood to spurt from his chest in a move that made his arms shake and his vision blur.

“Expect—“ Arthur coughed again, this time spewing blood from his mouth, and dropped his wand as his arms shook and burnt too badly to continue trying to summon his silver weasel.

Arthur could sense his vision fading to black... a peaceful numbness overtaking his body, washing away the agony from the bite.

“Molly,” he whispered, clenching his left hand until he could touch his wedding ring with his thumb. “Molly...”

As the corridor around him blackened out completely, he was greeted with a more joyous vision...

Arthur as a young man, too tall, too awkward, but standing confidently with the Prewett Lord.

“I don’t have much sir. I’m not rich. I don’t bring a fancy dowry. You have no reason to accept me. You should though. Because what I do have is a heart full of love, a mind full of ideas, a never ending sense of loyalty to your daughter, and a promise to keep our future family safe. You would make her and I the happiest people in the world if you would give me your blessing to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Molly in her white dress, her freckles a dark brown and her eyes glowing with love and happiness as they kissed for the first time as husband and wife in front of their small group of family and friends.

“William Arthur Weasley.” Arthur’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his young wife and their new son.

“He’s so little,” he whispered to Molly. “I— Mollywobbles, I’m afraid I’ll hurt him.”

Molly reached out for him and her brown eyes were so filled with love as she stared up at her husband. “You will never hurt him,” she swore sweetly. “You’re his daddy, look—“ she pulled the blanket down to show the shock of red hair on their sons head. “He looks just like you Arthur.”

Arthur ran his finger down his sons soft cheek. “Us,” he whispered, awestruck by this beautiful new life. “He looks like us.”

“Look Billy.” Arthur held up Charles, his little chunk of a newborn for his eldest sons approval. “This is your brother.”

“Mine!” Billy cried gleefully, his little arms went wild grabbing out for the baby. “M’ere wif mine!”

“Can we afford another baby?” Arthur whispered in their bed, equal parts excited and terrified at the life growing within Molly beneath his large hand.

“They might never have brand new broomsticks, but they’ll never go without love,” Molly murmured, pressing her gentle and sweet lips to his own. “Isn’t that what matters?”

“Twins? Twins!” Arthur laughed, nearly hysterical, in the healers office at St Mungo’s. “Two... Molly, goodness.”

“I hope they’re boys,” Molly said softly, cradling her stomach with teary eyes. “Can we name them after my brothers if so?”

Arthur caught her hands and knelt before her, staring up at Molly with an understanding smile.

“Of course,” he told her, reaching up to swipe away a tear off her cheek with the back of his hand. “Frederick Fabian and George Gideon if they’re boys. But surely one will be a girl.”

Arthur held little Ron on his hip while Molly cradled their infant daughter, his tiny angel, and they both tried to corral the other boys while Bill (‘I’m too big to be Billy anymore!’) boarded the train.

“It seems like just yesterday he was Ginny’s size,” Molly sniffled, leaning her head on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “They’re growing up too fast.”

“What... what do we do?” Molly looked around their empty kitchen with a forlorn expression. “They’re all gone Arthur.”

Arthur swept Molly off her feet and in to his arms in an instant. “They’ll be home for the holidays,” he reminded her. “And then we can hear all about Ginny’s first year and the boys can drive us mad with their tales of mischief.”

“But what will we do before then?” Molly sniffled a bit.

Arthur tilted her face up by the chin and gave her his own teasing smile. “I can think of a few things.”

“I’m worried about the boys,” Molly confessed from their bed within Sirius’ home. “They’re all so close to Harry and us to Albus, they’re targets Arthur. I don’t want to lose them— I couldn’t bear it.”

Arthur held his wife tightly, as devotedly in love with her as the day they wed, if not more, while they cried their fears out together.

“We’ll keep them safe Molly, I swear.”

And he had.

His children were all alive, his promise to Lord Prewett all those years ago was fulfilled.

A peaceful smile overtook Arthur’s face as he let out his final breath.

Chapter Text

Sunday December 19

“I thought we weren’t meeting until Easter break?” Blaise asked, his eyes continuously flicking towards the dormitory door. Probably late for a date, or a sleepover at any rate.

“That’s for official gang business, this one’s for just us.” Harry stretched his legs out and snagged some of the candy from the pile that Neville brought with him. “Sue, what’s on our list?”

Susan pulled out the ‘inner gang’s original gang’ to-do list that the two of them update periodically and looked it over.

“Meet up over break, and free the— Hermione! Did you write on our list?”

Hermione blinked up innocently from her place by Theo’s side. “No,” she said with too much naivety in her tone to fool Harry or Susan. “Why would you accuse me of that?”

“Someone wrote ‘free the house-elves’ on our to-do list right above ‘kill Dumbledore’,” Susan said. “We didn’t write that.”

“Maybe you should have,” Theo said. “Aren’t you two always going on about equal rights for everyone who you don’t hate?”

Fred, Ron, and Neville snickered at Harry and Susan’s identical roll of their eyes.

“We aren’t starting by forcing over a hundred elves from their home,” Harry said firmly. “We’re starting by getting Mavis a wand.”

“But Mavis can do magic without one,” Draco said slowly. “Why would he need a wand?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Susan sniffed. “Elves are magical beings and deserve to carry wands just as much as goblins, vampires, dwarves—“

“Not dwarves,” Harry scoffed. “I fuckin hate dwarves.”

“Why d’you hate dwarves??” Fred asked incredulously while Harry was glaring at his full-on laughing friends.

“It’s Susan’s fault,” Luna said, being the only one who wasn’t laughing at Harry. Because some people have a bit of loyalty in them. “She sent Harry a sweet valentine back in my first year and Harry’s hated dwarves ever since.”

“You sent Harry a singing valentine?” Fred asked, looking equal parts impressed and jealous. “Merlin’s teeth Sue, you’ve got bollocks, don’t you?”

“Don’t call me Sue,” Susan snapped. “And it was a joke,” she said much more nicely to Harry. “You know you secretly liked it.”

“Susan’s the reason we have the rule that anyone who sends Harry a singing valentine gets crucio’d for seven and a half minutes,” Ron explained to Fred.

“Right-o then.”

Harry very much did not like the challenging glimmer in Fred’s eyes, so he hastily turned back to more important matters. “‘Kay, Mione, we’re getting Mavis a wand this summer, so hold off on freeing the elves until we can find a plan to keep them from being homeless and sad, yeah? Susan, what was on the actual agenda for tonight?”

“We were going to discuss killing Bellatrix after Christmas, but before we come back on the fifth,” Susan said.

“Why just Bellatrix?” Blaise asked. “Why not all the Death Eaters?”

“Bellatrix is personal,” Neville said, a rare shadow of anger flashing in his eyes. “If she’s free then I want her dead.”

“That’s the Harry spirit Neville,” Fred raised his bottle of butterbeer to Neville in a mock-toast.

“How are we meant to find and kill Bellatrix in a matter of...” Theo counted quickly, “ten days?”

“Lue? Any ideas?” Harry turned hopefully to Luna, searching for some insight from the nargles.

Luna went quiet, her big silver eyes blinking owlishly and sightlessly up at the ceiling while everyone watched her for a very long minute.

“I— I don’t think you’re killing her before we come back,” she said haltingly, knowing Harry and Neville would be disappointed with her words. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not Bellatrix Lestrange dying...” Luna trailed off and blinked quickly before abruptly turning her wide eyes to Ron.

“You’re wrong,” she said in an uncharacteristically harsh voice. “You can’t let your emotions overtake your logic. You’re wrong and there’s no guarantee you can fix it. Some burnt bridges can never be repaired.”

“What??” Ron was startled and looked around at the others, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact with Luna. “What am I wrong about? What bridge am I burning?”

Harry cocked his head to the side as he studied both Ron and Luna. Luna was blinking and seemed to shake her head, probably a sign that the nargles were speaking through her. Snape and Theo swore Luna was a seer, but Harry knew that Luna was just special. She didn’t need an official title for him to appreciated the things she said; Luna was his friend and every word she said had always been important to him. ‘Seer’ or not.

“Dunno,” he said. “But try not to mess things up any time soon, yeah? Let’s kill Bellatrix, Timmy, and Dumbledore before you go fuckin things up.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ron said, inching just slightly away from Luna.

Neville huffed, let down by Luna’s proclamation that they wouldn’t be killing Bellatrix before they returned to school. “Is she at least on the official to-do list?” he asked Susan. “I want her dead before she can be sent back to Azkaban.”

”She is,” Harry assured him, understanding Neville’s need for revenge. “We can track her down and kill her this summer if we don’t get a chance before then, yeah? If she gets sent back to Azkaban before summer then I’ll just break her back out and then you can kill her.”

For whatever reason, Neville didn’t look very reassured by what Harry considered to be a very thoughtful offer. Neville’s face paled, and he nodded in a bit of a noncommittal gesture.

Odd.

“Well if we aren’t killing Bellatrix over Christmas break then what are we doing?” Susan pouted.

Sometimes Harry thought that Susan really seemed to want to kill people. Just go absolutely mad and singlehandedly kill all their enemies. Which was both wicked and a bit terrifying to imagine.

“We could just hang out?” Draco suggested. “We could stay at Harry’s and all hang out for a few days?”

Nobody had any arguments against that. So they set up a block of days, starting on New Years Day, and Harry decided that was enough of an accomplishment for one day and ended the small meeting.

Blaise immediately took off for the door, telling the others not to wait for him to go to breakfast tomorrow.

“Blaise is a slag,” Susan giggled.

“Really?” Neville grinned at Susan and waggled his eyebrows. “Because I’ve heard some interesting things from Lavender...”

Susan squealed and smacked Neville in the arm before linking her arm with his and demanding he ‘tell her everything’ as the two of them set off for their respective common rooms.

“Come on Luna, I’ll walk you to your tower,” Draco told Luna with a small smile.

“Bye guys,” Luna said with a bright smile for the remaining group, which was returned by everyone except a still puzzled Ron.

“Want me to walk you back too Granger?” Fred offered Hermione. “I wouldn’t want to be caught out of bed without a prefect to cover for me.”

“Hermione’s staying here,” Theo said bluntly. “Walk yourself back.”

“Or you could stay too?” Harry offered quietly. “If you wanted.”

Fred looked surprised for a moment, probably because they hadn’t slept in the same bed together since they broke up, but then he gave Harry a broad smile and agreed quickly.

Harry threw up a privacy shield the instant that Fred got in his bed.

“I just wanna sleep together,” he blurted.

Fred raised his brows and looked down at his baggy tshirt with a hole in the neckline and sleep pants. “And here I am prepared to seduce you darling.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a smile at Fred’s obvious joke and scooted over to make room for him. “You’re a prat.”

“But I’m your prat,” Fred grinned, stretching out on his back and taking up a lot more space than Harry did when he was sleeping alone.

“Suppose so.” Harry laid next to Fred and glanced over at his peaceful expression. “When are we supposed to have that ‘two way conversation’?”

“Let’s do it tomorrow.” Fred yawned. “Or over break. We’ll just let it happen, sound good?”

“Yeah.” Harry scooted closer until he was able to put his leg across Fred’s. “Sounds good.”

Fred smiled and closed his eyes, his face entirely relaxed in a way that sent an odd warmth through Harry’s chest. He slowly reached out and ran his thumb lightly across Fred’s eyelids.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

As Harry was closing his own eyes, he got a brief twinge of pain in his scar, one that was easily pushed away with his mental barriers.

Leave me alone you noseless git.

He let out a sigh of relief as his occlumency shields lessened the pressure that had been building in his head. He tentatively laid his head in the crook of Fred’s arm and pulled the blanket Luna once made him over the two of them securely.

“Love you,” Fred murmured sleepily.

“Goodnight,” Harry repeated.

Harry went back and forth with himself until he fell asleep, did he love Fred? Should he say he loves him if he isn’t entirely sure? He had been certain he loved Susan, but even that took him months to admit to her.

Could he tell Fred? Would it be weird? Would it change things?

Harry had fallen asleep before he came to a decision. He dreamt of soaring in blue skies, endless forests beneath his feet, his friends all flying alongside him...

He was jerked abruptly from his sleep in the early dawn hours— knife in hand before he registered what woke him. Someone was turning the lights on in the dorm. Harry jerked the curtain back on his bed and leapt to his feet, preparing to attack right up until he recognized the tall thin man beside Ron’s bed.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Snape, irritated now by his sudden appearance.

Snape didn’t ignore him, necessarily, but he focused on waking Ron, shaking his shoulder to rouse him from sleep.

“Mister Weasley, I need you to come with me,” Snape said with a sense of urgency in his voice that put Harry on edge.

“What happened?” Harry repeated as Ron blearily sat up and yawned.

Snape turned to him now, and blanched as he saw Fred behind Harry lounging across his bed.

“Frederick, come along. I need you and your brother both,” Snape said. The fact that he didn’t seem disturbed by Fred being in Harry’s dorm only increased Harry’s worry.

“Quickly,” Snape urged them.

“Whazz’goin’ on?” Ron asked, slipping his boots on.

Snape looked exhausted, and miserable, when he answered. “There’s been an attack.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday December 21

Fred gripped the photo frame in his hands tightly. He stared down at it, tears obscuring his vision, wishing he could reverse time.

Why couldn’t he go back and tell his dad not to go to the Ministry that night?

Why couldn’t he go back even further and have Harry kill the giant snake that Timmy controls instead of Pettigrew in that graveyard?

Why couldn’t he have told his parents to ignore Dumbledore, not follow his orders?

“It’s not fair,” he moaned for the thousandth time since being ushered from Hogwarts to Grimmauld Place with George, Ron, and Ginny. As soon as they stepped from the floo yesterday morning and saw their mother’s pale face, tears freely streaming, and Bill and Charlie stiffly standing with similar expressions, he’d known that something happened. Something bad.

He hadn’t expected it to be the death of his dad though.

His kind-hearted dad. His dad who worked so hard to provide for their family, who raised them to appreciate the value of things for what they do, not what they cost. The man who came to Fred and George’s first quidditch match, and who laughed happily when they began showing him their inventions.

His dad whose body waited in St Mungo’s to be buried on Friday.

”He’s gone,” Mum had wailed, fruitlessly trying to wrap them all in a hug at once. “He was attacked, I’m so sorry.”

Fred’s body was wracked with newly painful tremors and sobs once more as he bent over at the waist and recalled the way his mum had broken down at her words.

He’d never seen his mum cry like that. Never seen Bill look so lost. Never knew Charlie’s eyes could be so empty.

“Dad.” Fred wrapped his arms around himself and let loose all the tears, all the pain, all the terrible and overwhelming agony that he’d been buried in since arriving.

Since losing his dad.

It seemed like hours later, maybe only moments, that there was a small knock on the door before it was gently pushed open.

“It’s me.”

Fred looked up through his sweat and tear plastered hair and saw that Harry was nervously making his way inside his room.

“Fred, I’m so sorry,” Harry said, kneeling down by Fred’s feet and staring up at him sorrowfully. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“He’s gone Harry,” Fred said dumbly. “My dad, he’s gone. Mum said- she said he was attacked during Order business. Shacklebolt said it was a snake bite.”

“I know,” Harry said softly. “Snape said your dad was on guard for the Order and was bitten by Nagini. Tonks told him.”

“He’s gone,” Fred repeated. “Gone.”

“I know.”

“Will you sit with me?” Fred asked him quietly. He made a valiant and pointless effort to clear away the tears in his throat with a light cough. “That git—“ he jerked his thumb at George’s sleeping body, “—isn’t much company and I don’t fancy being alone right now.”

“‘Kay.” Harry got to his feet and sat gingerly on the bed beside Fred and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Can I do anything?”

“There’s nothing to do,” Fred said dully. “Percy is at St Mungo’s, Bill’s downstairs with mum, Charlie’s at... at the church,” he choked out. “There’s nothing to do.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a few minutes, silently scooting next to Fred until they were flushed together.

“I— I’m bad at this Fred,” Harry said quietly. “But I know that it hurt like hell when Snape told me my parents were dead. But sometimes— sometimes people say ‘oh Harry they loved you so much,’ and that makes me feel a bit better, you know? So... So I bet that your dad loved you so much Fred. He seemed like it to me.”

“He did,” Fred whispered, clenching the picture frame with an intensity bordering on pain.

Harry reached out slowly for the frame. “Can I see?”

Fred handed Harry the picture frame he’d been sobbing over. “Mum took it the summer before we started Hogwarts,” he explained quietly. “George and I wanted to test out some pranks we had planned... We put some purple dye in a bucket of slugs, thinking that Charlie or Percy would be the next one to open the shed door, but...”

“But it was your dad,” Harry said quietly. “He doesn’t look mad.”

Fred smiled sadly at the photo. There were heaps of purple slugs covering his dads already-balding head. His strong and warm arms were slung around Fred and George while he smiled brightly at their mum’s camera.

“He wasn’t,” he said in a choked whisper. “He thought it was brilliant.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Fred’s stomach, holding him tightly as he was overcome with a fresh wave of painful sobs.

“I- I want him back,” Fred sobbed. “I don’t even r-remember what I said to him last.”

“You told him that you wanted a sword,” Harry said quietly. “Remember? You wrote that letter last week after our last defense meeting. You told him about being best in the club with a knife and that you wanted a sword. You also said you were gonna sell muggle knives in your shop, you knew he’d be excited about it. And you signed it with ‘Love you dad, from your favorite son’.”

Fred had no idea how Harry remembered such a menial thing, but Merlin if he didn’t love him all the harder for it.

Fred let Harry hold him, soaking in his quiet strength like a desperate sponge while he cried out his misery. Harry didn’t complain about the tears that soaked his jumper, didn’t offer up any empty platitudes that the various Order members who came by yesterday did. He just kept quiet, running gentle hands over Fred’s heaving back.

Fred was nearly cried out when there was a knock at the door.

“Fred? George? It’s Ginny and Ron,” Ginny called softly. “Can we come in?”

“Just a mo’,” George called, apparently waking up at some point when Fred hadn’t noticed.

Harry and George waited patiently for Fred to pull himself together, gratefully accepting the handkerchief that Harry offered him. A wet laugh escaping him when he saw the ‘STS’ embroidered in the corner.

Harry got up after Fred mopped up his face and opened the door, revealing a very surprised Ginny and forlorn looking Ron.

“Ron, mate, I’m—“

“What are you doing here?” Ginny acute Harry off in an acidic tone that got Fred and George to their feet.

“I—“ Harry looked over at the twins and took a small step away from the doorway. “I came to see you guys. I didn’t want to bother you yesterday, but—“

“You’ve got some nerve Harry,” Ginny hissed. “Our dad is gone, because of you!”

“What?” Harry reeled back, physically recoiling from the heat in Ginny’s voice.

“How d’you work that out?” Fred demanded.

“He’s evil Fred!” Ginny shrieked, causing everyone to wince at the noise. “You heard Moody! Harry’s a- a curse!”

“No I’m not,” Harry said quietly, sending Ron a beseeching look. “I don’t care what Moody said, I’m not fuckin evil.”

“And even if he was, it doesn’t mean he had anything to do with— with what happened,” George said loyally.

“DAD WAS THERE PROTECTING A PROPHECY ABOUT HARRY!” Ginny yelled, proving why it was a mistake to let her eavesdrop on Order meetings with them. “IF HARRY WAS DEAD THEN DAD WOULD STILL BE HERE!”

“Shut your stupid mouth about things you don’t understand,” Fred spat, pulling Harry behind him as he felt his small flinch at Ginny’s words.

What a thing to say.

“She’s wrong, but not really.” Ron finally spoke up, his voice quivering as he defended their sister. “Harry isn’t blameless in Dad’s d-death.”

“Thought Kingsley said it was a snake?” George said.

“Harry was in bed with me when it happened,” Fred said firmly, hoping to shut down the fight. “He didn’t do anything.”

“You’re just going to defend him?” Ginny demanded, her hands on her hips and her fire filled eyes looking glassy. “HE GOT OUR DAD KILLED FRED! And you’re in here cuddling him!”

Fred shifted a little, relieved to see George mimic his actions, putting themselves between their two heartbroken and furious siblings and Harry.

“Harry didn’t kill Dad,” Fred repeated. “Dad died on Dumbledore’s orders.”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t have made those orders if Harry had told him everything,” Ron said with a sharp glare at Harry.

“Careful Ron, you’re getting close to breaking a vow.” Harry squeezed himself between the twins to face his friend. “I know you’re upset, but don’t make this worse, yeah?”

“MAKE IT WORSE? MY DAD IS DEAD HARRY!” Ron screamed. “BECAUSE YOU DON’T TRUST ANYONE!”

“Because I don’t trust Dumbledore? You can’t be fuckin serious,” Harry scoffed. “You don’t trust him either!”

“Because you— you’ve poisoned him!” Ginny shrieked. “You’ve turned my brothers against our family!”

“Dumbledore is not our family,” George said. “Come off it Gin.”

“He’s done a damn sight more for us than Harry,” Ginny spat, which was such a ridiculous statement that it managed to make Fred huff out a laugh.

Dumbledore hadn’t done a damn thing for them. Dumbledore put their dad on guard duty for a prophecy that he couldn’t be bothered to check that it was even still there. Dumbledore got their dad killed. And if Fred wasn’t certain that Harry and Susan had plans on killing the old wizard, he’d do it himself. He still might.

“Suppose I should have left you in the Chamber then?” Harry said coolly. “Let your hero Dumbledore save your sorry arse?”

“You didn’t want to save her, you just wanted to kill the basilisk.” Ron swiped angrily at the tears on his cheeks. “You didn’t give a damn about her.”

“She called me a monster! Said she hated me! What the fuck was I supposed to do? Be her best friend?!”

“You cut Fred in the head for fun!” Ginny yelled. “You are a monster!”

Harry looked up at Fred uncertainly. “Was that you that I cut?”

“Sure was,” Fred told him with his best effort at a weak grin. “Think that was when I fell in love with you.”

“It was a duel Ginny,” George said with a level of calm that Fred certainly wasn’t capable of extending at the moment. “Pretty sure I sent a bunch of ice knives right at Harry’s chest that day.”

“You did. It was brill.”

“You should go,” Ginny said, switching her tactics pretty quickly now. “Nobody wants you here.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said hastily, loathe to give up the comfort that Harry’s quiet presence brought him. “I want him here.”

“WELL YOU DON’T BLOODY COUNT!” Ginny yelled, the tears in her eyes spilling over now.

“Maybe you should just go Harry,” Ron said quietly, but with a cold detachment that Fred knew had to be hurting Harry. “Leave our family alone for a while.”

Harry had his head cocked to the side and his eyes screwed up in confusion as he looked between Ron and Ginny. “You— I mean— I’m not bein’ a dick or anything, but you know this is technically my house, yeah? You can’t actually tell me to leave.”

Ginny, who apparently had some mad newfound courage and hatred of Harry pursed her lips like their mum. Ron just looked lost.

It was sad really. Fred wished they hadn’t decided right now to pick a fight with Harry. He wanted to comfort his siblings, but he needed to be comforted himself right now.

“It’s Sirius’ house,” Ginny finally said. “And he’s letting us stay here.”

“And Sirius made me his heir the day I was born,” Harry said slowly. “We share assets, don’t we? Which, seems like maybe you don’t know, but that includes this house.”

“Go away Gin,” Fred sighed, abruptly exhausted; mentally, emotionally, and physically. “Just— go downstairs with mum and the others.”

“That’s it then?” Ginny asked. “You’re just going to keep seeing him?”

“I’m bloody well gonna marry him too Ginny,” Fred blurted, mad as well as exhausted now. Who was Ginny to come questioning his relationship? Harry didn’t kill Dad.

“What the fuck?”

Fred really was tired.

He looked down at Harry, who was staring up at him in bewilderment.

“How’s Fred Potter sound?” Fred tried making his mad confession into a weak joke so as to not scare off his occasionally terribly skittish boyfriend. “Or you could be Harry Weasley if you want?”

Harry’s look of surprise slowly shifted in to a bashful smile. “We could hyphenate?” he offered. “Fred and Harry Potter-Weasley?”

Fred felt a swoop of joy in his stomach, immediately followed by a wrenching guilt for even feeling a bit of joy in the moment, and compensated for both emotions by hugging Harry to his side and burying his face in Harry’s hair.

“You’re a traitor,” Ginny hissed. Fred didn’t lift his face, he merely listened as his sister stormed away, followed by a much more slow and unsure Ron after a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly as soon as Ron and Ginny were gone. “Fred, George, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” George assured him. “They just—“ George swallowed down the lump of emotion in his throat. “They just need time mate. Ron’s upset, he didn’t mean those things.”

Fred kept his face buried until he heard George return to their room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Fred?”

Fred lifted his head to look down in Harry’s misery filled eyes.

“I love you,” Harry said softly. “Thought you should know.”

Fred knew it was a mad reaction, but he was suddenly overcome by a hysterical laugh. He quickly re-caught Harry in his arms once Harry began edging away from him.

“You have the worst bloody timing in history,” he said, struggling to control the inappropriate reaction that Harry’s confession brought on. “Just terrible Darlin.”

Harry’s mumbled apology was cut off by Fred’s desperate kiss. He clung to Harry, pouring his endless sadness in to his kiss, accepting back Harry’s outpouring of regret and sorrow.

“I love you so much,” Fred said, backing Harry to the wall to deepen the kiss. “I— I don’t know what I’d do without you Harry.”

“I’m not leaving,” Harry said steadily. “Not if you want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” Fred assured him, pushing their lips back together in a frenzy to just forget about everything else. Harry didn’t push him away, only wrapped his hands behind Fred’s neck and let him distract himself in their embrace.

Fred could have stayed there all day, forever really, never facing the reality that awaited him, but Harry’s godfather clearly had the same terrible timing that Harry did.

“Pup?” Sirius called up the stairs. “Harry? You up there?”

“I’ll stay if you want me to, but I think your family might be happier if I left,” Harry murmured as Fred groaned at the interruption.

“Yeah.” Fred took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “You should go darlin. I’m gonna...” he trailed off, not really sure what he should do.

“You should sleep.” Harry traced the bags beneath Fred’s eyes. “D’you want me to send over some Dreamless Sleep?”

“No.” Fred caught his hand and kissed the knuckles with overwhelming gratitude that this thoughtful and mad wizard was in his life. “I’ll be fine. Will you come back tomorrow, please?”

“Course.” Harry detangled himself from Fred’s embrace and gave him a small smile. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fred assured him.

“Harry?!”

“Gotta go,” Harry told him. “I’ll be back tomorrow, get some sleep and... and just floo to my place if you need me sooner, kay?”

“Kay.”

Fred watched as Harry made his way down the stairs, taking the momentary peace Fred felt with him.

He let out a heavy sigh as he looked from his bedroom door to the doors that he knew Ron and Ginny were probably hidden behind. Fred wasn’t a selfish guy, not usually, but he decided that he would go lay down for a bit before trying to comfort his younger siblings. They could handle themselves for a couple hours without him.

Fred slipped back in his room, sharing a look with George, before collapsing face down on his bed.

“Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“That thing you’re in, with Harry? That secret alliance? I want in.”

Fred picked his head up and read his twins determination through his blue eyes, identical to his own.

“I’ll tell Harry,” he said. “It’s not a game though.”

“Good.” George laid down on the side of Fred’s bed, unwilling to be far apart when they were both grieving so heavily. “Because I’m done with games.”

Fred nodded in understanding. The twins were of a single mind in that moment, every hand that had a part in the death of their dad would burn. No justice would bring back their dad, but they’d be damned if they didn’t dole it out regardless.

Time seemed to pass by in flashes the next few days.

Time spent with his family creeped by, determinedly forcing him to see his own misery reflected back by each member. His mother’s never ending tears and thick aura of depression. Bill’s attempts to help everyone, offering a shoulder to cry on and sharing stories about their dad with them. Fleur, quiet and unsure, dancing around the kitchen and making platters of baked goods that went mostly untouched. Charlie drinking himself in to an unreachable state, his eyes unseeing as he slumped in the recliner in the sitting room. Percy, absent. George hiding himself from everyone in their bedroom, crying out in the night when he was meant to be sleeping. Ron, usually accompanied by Malfoy (who Harry apparently gave their location to for Ron’s sake), wandering around the house like a ghost. Ron’s eyes were wide and filled with shadows of grief. Fred appreciated Malfoy more than ever during that time. Malfoy just walked with Ron, talking softly and forcing him to eat. Holding his hand steadily when Ron eventually slept fitfully on various pieces of furniture.

And Ginny. Ginny frantically pacing, furiously mumbling. Trading all her heartbreak for rage. Hating that their dad was gone. Hating that there was no bringing him back. Blaming all the wrong people.

Times when Harry snuck over, carefully avoiding the other Weasley’s, went by too quickly.

Harry was brilliant; quietly holding Fred and lending him strength as he cried and screamed and went on his own rants at the unfairness of the world. Harry also gently pressured him in to eating, bringing along Fred’s favorite snacks, and stroked his hair to keep him sane when he was plagued by memories of his dad while he slept.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” Fred whispered in the middle of the night, dreading the funeral that he would have to go to when morning came.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I’ll be there.”

There wasn’t a dry eye, or a smiling face in the group of Weasley’s as they dressed the morning of their dads funeral.

It was cruel, burying their dad on Christmas Eve, the day they’d always spent together as a family. It was nearly ironic, in a truly terrible way.

Bill had pooled his resources to make sure that the boys all had new dress robes of respectable black. Fleur bought Ginny a traditional black dress. Apparently Fleur and Bill wanted to honor their dad in any way they could, starting with dressing their best. Fred thought that it would have honored Dad the truest if they’d worn muggle clothes, but nobody asked his opinion.

Lupin and Sirius were waiting downstairs with their mum, solemn and sad as they watched the Weasley kids troop in with their combed hair and heartbroken faces.

“You boys look so- so handsome,” their mum sniffled, patting them all on their cheeks. “And girls-“ she grabbed Ginny and Fleur’s hands in her own, “you look beautiful.”

“Love you mum,” Ginny said thickly. “Is it time?”

“It is,” Lupin said gently.

Fred’s head hung low as they floo’d to the Burrow. His mums wail of devastation, brought his attention to the clock that still hung on the wall. Seven hands were pointing at ‘home’, Percy’s said ‘traveling’, but the gold hand that was engraved with ‘Arthur’ was firmly pointing at ‘lost’.

Sirius caught their mum when her knees buckled and her sobs broke through. “I know,” he murmured softly to her. “I know.”

“C’mon,” Bill told the others. “Give mum some time. Let’s go to the church.”

Fred hardly noticed the cold that nipped at his skin as he followed the others to the St Catchpole Church. He ignored the crowds of well-wishers, keeping his head low and only nodding in response to what seemed like endless apologies.

‘I’m sorry for your loss’ wasn’t going to bring back his dad.

He paid a little more attention when Albus Bloody Dumbledore gently squeezed his hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said with a quiet sincerity. “Arthur was a good man. A loving father, a kind soul.”

“And now he’s dead,” Fred said flatly, glaring at Dumbledore with all the ferocity that he could muster. “Take your apologies and piss off.”

He heard a surprised gasp from one of his siblings in the line of Weasley’s, but he ignored it.

He knew who was responsible for his dads death, and it wasn’t Harry.

Dumbledore didn’t seem surprised by his words or tone, he simply nodded with a sense of calm that spiked Fred’s rage and moved on to Percy, who must have joined them at some point.

Fred accepted condolences from relatives, classmates, coworkers of his dads, Order members, and members of Harry’s alliance alongside his siblings. The faces, the words, fading in to an indistinguishable blur of noise and pitiful looks.

“Frederick.”

Fred picked his head up once more when Snape’s voice reached his ears, thankful that Harry stepped up beside him at the same time.

“Hullo sir,” Fred said dully, squeezing Harry’s small and calloused hand tightly. “Thanks for coming.”

“I regret it’s necessity,” Snape said. He briefly laid his hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Do not hesitate to reach out if there is anything I can do for you or your family.”

Fred just nodded and watched as Snape was replaced by Theo and Hermione, the latter of whom surprised him with a tight hug.

“We all care about you,” Hermione said softly. “You’re being so incredibly strong.”

Theo offered no condolences, no empty platitudes, just a gaze with steady eyes that reminded him that he too had lost his dad.

Bit different circumstances, if Fred’s guess about Nott Senior’s death was accurate, but still a shared experience nonetheless.

Harry stayed beside Fred as more of their friends came through the line. Luna, with a small and warm hug and large, teary eyes. Susan, with a brief hug and a whispered promise to help him when he was ready for revenge. Neville and his Gram, both offering apologies.

And on, and on, it went. Up until Lupin came up to the line of Weasley’s and murmured that it was time.

Fred turned to Harry in a sudden panic. “I can’t do it Harry.” His eyes flicked to the coffin in the front of the room, the coffin that held his dads body. The coffin he was meant to stand in front of and help carry to its final resting place. “I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t—“

“Fred.” Harry grabbed Fred’s face with his free hand and put a slight pressure on his jaw, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to break his panic. “You can,” Harry whispered, his eyes unwavering as they stared deeply in to Fred’s. “You’re strong. This is going to fuckin suck, isn’t it? But your brothers are gonna be right beside you, I’ll be behind you. You can do this.”

Fred matched Harry’s breathing, slowly sucking air in before pushing it back out.

“I can do this,” he repeated quietly.

Harry gave him a gentle push to follow behind his family to the row of chairs in the front of the church.

I can do this.

Fred slipped in to his seat between George and Charlie.

I can do this.

Fred’s resolve wavered as the wizard overseeing the funeral got up and began speaking. The words were a buzz, indistinct as a whole, but small bits leaping out at him.

“Kind hearted.”

“Family man.”

“Proud father.”

“Loving husband.”

“No better wizard.”

Fred thought that while they were all true portrayals of the person his dad is was, they somehow felt impersonal. If he closed his eyes, blocked out the cries of his family, he could be at anyone’s funeral.

He could do it. Just pretend this nightmare was someone else’s life, not his. He would have too if he didn’t feel a gentle hand reach between the bars of his chair and lay on the middle of his back.

If Fred lived to be a thousand years old, he could never repay Harry for his silent and grounding presence during the funeral.

But even Harry couldn’t keep his tears at bay when his family trooped up together in a single file line to say goodbye one last time to their dad.

Charlie, in front of Fred, cried openly without shame as he looked inside the coffin that sent shivers down Fred’s spine.

I can do this.

“Together?” George whispered from behind him. Fred turned a grateful look to his brother and saw that his eyes were overflowing with the same tears that were obscuring Fred’s vision.

“Together.”

Fred and George walked up to the coffin, a single unit, and looked down at the man who gave them life and taught them how that life was meant to be lived.

Fred wiped his face on the stiff robe sleeves that suddenly felt suffocating so he could see his dad clearly one last time.

“It doesn’t even look like him,” George choked out. “Dad...”

Fred traced the smooth paleness of his dads face, attempting to memorize every freckle, consoling himself at the expression of peace, and wondering why it had to be him?

Why his dad?

Why now?

Why?

Later, Fred couldn’t describe the rest of the service. He didn’t remember carrying the coffin with George, Percy, Charlie, Bill, and Ron.

He didn’t remember the graveside words of the minister. Blocked out the conjured flowers that were placed on top of the coffin. Didn’t memorize the never ending hugs of the mourners.

He just thought about his dad.

Alone in the coffin.

Alone in the ground.

Ripped away from their family forever.

“I love you,” Harry said softly after most of the mourners disapparated from the graveyard.

“Forever?” Fred asked him with a desperate tenor to his voice. “You won’t leave me?”

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose Harry along with his dad. He couldn’t lose anyone, ever again. The pain of this one irreplaceable loss was enough to rip his heart in two.

“Forever,” Harry said firmly. “You’re stuck with me, aren’t you?”

It felt like one minute Fred was staring down in the coffin, struggling to put the face of the corpse with his gentle and loving father, and the next he was back at Grimmauld Place. It was dark and he was staring in to a drink that Charlie passed him.

“Whiskey,” Charlie grunted. “Good for funerals.”

Fred relished the burn from the drink, let it chase away the cold numbness that had been plaguing him since the moment he arrived from Hogwarts.

“To Dad,” Charlie said, having given the others all their own glasses. “To the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

“To Dad,” Bill, Fleur, Fred, and George echoed.

“Where’s Ron?” Fred asked, finally noticing his missing siblings.

“Upstairs with Mum and Gin,” George told him. “Weren’t you listening when we got back?”

Fred shook his head. He hadn’t even remembered coming back. Everything was a haze. Everything aside from the freckles across his dads nose, scattered beneath his wire framed glasses.

“Your muzzer needed to lay down, Ginny went wiz ‘er,” Fleur supplied with a soft look of understanding. “Ronald eez in ‘is room.”

“Thanks,” Fred murmured. He downed the rest of the drink quickly and gave Charlie a pleading look.

“Alright then,” Charlie chuckled joylessly and slid the bottle to Fred. “Don’t tell Mum.”

“She won’t care,” Bill scoffed. “I saw her smuggling a bottle of wine upstairs for her nap.”

Fred listened to his brothers’ forced conversation as he refilled his glass and threw it back just as quickly as the first.

He let their words become a static noise in his head, unwilling to be drawn in to their conversation, until Bill said Dumbledore’s name.

“Fuck him,” Fred spat angrily, fueled by his endless sorrow and the heating effects of the whiskey. “It’s Dumbledore’s fault dad’s gone.”

The others went silent. Fleur nodded shortly, the only other member of the Grey Alliance who understood what he did.

“How so?” Bill asked, lifting his pierced brow in a show of curiosity.

“Because he’s a Merlin damned idiot,” Fred told him. “I can’t say more than that, but if Dumbledore didn’t think he was all knowing and all seeing, and bothered to do a bit of bloody work, then dad would still be here.”

“That’s a serious allegation,” Bill said.

“Eet eez not wizzout supportive facts,” Fleur chimed in. “Zat man eez not ze great man your muzzer believes ‘im to be.”

Charlie tapped his chin thoughtfully as he looked between Fred and Fleur. “What do you guys know that we don’t?”

George looked up quickly, eager to hear secrets that Fred couldn’t share.

“I’d tell you if I could,” he told them. “But I can’t.”

“Unless you join ‘Arry,” Fleur said softly, placing her hand on Bill’s arm. “I ‘ave told you zat ‘e eez smarter zan zis Dumbly-door and Fred will concur.”

“I’m joining,” George said confidently. “I’m going over on Boxing Day and I’m joining Harry’s alliance. I won’t help Dumbledore, he’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him myself.”

Fred was unbearably happy that his twin had accepted his story that it was Dumbledore who ultimately put their dad in a position he had no business being in. It might have been Timmy’s snake that ended his life, but it was Dumbledore’s lack of doing even the slightest bit of fact-checking that put him there. Fred wasn’t able to share all the details with George, he’d sworn fealty to the gang just as all the other members had, but George had accepted what he did share immediately anyway.

Fred impulsively grabbed George’s hand, a terrible and selfish thought popping in his head: he could survive losing his dad, no matter how much the sharp pain in his chest said otherwise, but he would never live through losing George.

Bill looked between Fleur, Fred, and George before slowly turning to Charlie and lifting a shoulder at him. “Reckon it’s worth hearing him out?”

“Terrifying bloke like Harry? Better to hear him out than be against him,” Charlie said bluntly.

Which is how the four Weasley’s, and Fleur, found themselves in Spinners End on Boxing Day after having spent Christmas Day in a quiet misery with their family.

“Nobody’s here,” Charlie said nervously, peeking around Snape’s posh sitting room. “Did they go back to Hogwarts?”

“No.” Fred knew Harry planned on spending the holidays at Invisibility Way, but he wouldn’t, and couldn’t, floo there without Harry’s permission. The house was warded to hell and back, with a secret keeper for its location. None of the others even knew of its existence.

“Mavis,” he called out. “It’s Fred.”

Mavis popped into the sitting room and almost immediately tackled George in a tight hug.

“Mavis is hearing about Mister Fred’s father,” Mavis sobbed on Fred’s very bewildered brother. “Mavis is being so sad for yous! Mavis is making mountains of banana pancakes to send with Master!”

“That’s sweet Mavis,” Fred said, “but I’m over here.”

Mavis’ head turned almost comically fast from George to Fred before he jumped backwards with haste. “Mavis is sorry,” the house-elf said, finally taking notice of the extras standing around him. “What can Mavis be doing for Mister Fred?”

“Can you ask Harry if he can meet us here?” Fred asked. “Or ask if I can bring Fleur, George, Bill, and Charlie to wherever he is?”

Mavis nodded quickly, his ears flapping at the motion. “Mavis is being right back!”

“He’s... different,” Bill said as Mavis popped away once more.

“‘Arry eez vairy fond of Mavis,” Fleur said with a small smile. “Zey are fighting all ze time.”

“What are they fighting about?” Charlie asked curiously, still looking around the sitting room with wide eyes.

“Everything,” Fred said drily.

Before anyone else could ask any questions, Mavis popped back with a toothy smile.

“Master is wanting you to come to him,” he said. “Master is making plans and can’t leave so he is saying that if Mister Fred trusts his company, that they are welcome to join.”

“Great, mind popping us over?” Fred asked kindly.

Mavis’ ever growing smile was just as swift of an answer as was the way he immediately ushered them all together to hold hands, Fred and Bill each holding on to Mavis.

“Daaaaamn,” Charlie whistled appreciatively at the giant manor that Mavis sloppily apparated them to. “Is this Snape’s place?”

“This is Master Harry’s secret house,” Mavis said. “And if you are causing Master problems then Mavis will be making sure you never remember coming here,” he wagged his finger threateningly before knocking curtly on the front door. “Mavis is giving Master a chance to turn any unwanted guests away,” he explained at Fred’s puzzled frown.

When Harry opened the door, dressed down in charcoal sweat pants and a long sleeved black top, he glanced hopefully at Fred and the others before deflating just a bit.

Fred was pretty sure Harry was hoping to see Ron, but since Fred hadn’t shared more than five words with his younger brother since the funeral, he wasn’t sure what was going through Ron’s mind.

“Hey,” Harry said, his hand subtly moving to his pockets. “What’s going on?”

“We wanted to talk to you,” George said. “We want in the alliance.”

“What alliance?” Harry asked in a bored tone. “Don’t remember saying there was an alliance here.”

“Zey wish to join you,” Fleur said. “Zey want to ‘ear what you can offer zem.”

Harry quirked a brow at George, Charlie, and Bill, but shrugged gracefully after a moment. “C’mon in,” he held the grey door open wide. “The others are in the dining room. We’re planning on how to kill that snake, Nagini.”

“Terrific,” Charlie said, offering Harry his hand. “Mind if we help you?”

Harry glanced down at Charlie’s hand and quickly looked at Fred. Fred nodded and hoped that Harry could read his thoughts, his reassurance that through Dumbledore’s negligent decisions, Harry had gained three more Weasley’s on his side.

“‘Kay.” Harry grabbed Charlie’s hand quickly before releasing it. “What d’you know about giant snakes?”

“I know we’ve got a big one to kill,” Bill cut in with his own proffered hand. “Why don’t we get to it?”

Fred followed Harry and half of his siblings to the dining room and was reassured both by the presence of Susan, Theo, Tonks, and Hermione and by the empty coffee pot by Harry’s seat.

If Harry was drinking coffee and had gathered most of the others, then he meant business. Or, in this case, revenge. Which was all the same really when it came to Harry’s plans.

Chapter Text

***

Tuesday January 5

“Evening Harry.”

“Evening Sev,” Harry said flatly as he exited Snape’s office floo, brushing soot from his robes as he went. “Am I the last one?”

“You are,” Snape said, watching him calmly from his desk. “Ronald and Draco arrived only minutes ago, you can likely catch them if you hurry.”

“Pft,” Harry scoffed and instead chose to sit across from Snape and tap his fingernail on the armrest of the chair. “Ron still isn’t talking to me, is he?”

“Ronald most likely simply needs— “

“Time, yeah I know,” Harry interrupted Snape with an irritated roll of his eyes. “I’ve given him time, and he still didn’t talk to me all of break! We all got together and Ron said he wasn’t coming. I spent the last week with his brothers and not a word from him!”

“It has barely been two weeks,” Snape said patiently. “Give him more time and I am certain he will see the situation more clearly.”

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me that killing Nagini won’t make Ron get over it?” Harry guessed shrewdly.

Snape sighed, looking exhausted.

Probably from all the work he’d had to do over break.

“No Harry, killing the Dark Lord’s pet will not earn you forgiveness for a wrongdoing you are, for once, innocent of.”

“We’ll see,” Harry quipped, getting to his feet now with a cheeky smirk. “Barty was all for us killing Nagini, he even said he’d help me break in to Malfoy’s place this summer to see if we can’t get Bellatrix and Nagini both in one go.”

Harry just laughed as Snape summoned a pain reliever as he left the office. He didn’t know why Snape was so against his plans, it’s not like Harry was skipping school to do them. He wrapped all his plots around school breaks, really he was a model student. Snape should be pleased.

By Friday morning though, Harry was sick of ‘giving Ron time’ and sick of ‘being patient’.

“Is he seriously sitting over there again?” he demanded when he threw his book bag under his spot at the Slytherin table.

“Yep.” Susan glared across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table where Ron was sitting with George and Ginny. “He’s being an idiot.”

“He’s sad,” Draco said hotly, defending his new best friend apparently. “And Harry isn’t helping by ignoring him in the dorm.”

“I am not ignoring him,” Harry hissed. “He said he didn’t want to talk when we got back so I’m not fuckin talking to him, am I?”

“Well he can’t ignore you at quidditch practice tomorrow,” Hermione pointed out logically, sending Ron a soft look of pity that Harry was glad to not be the recipient of. “Maybe try talking to him then?”

“He’s this close,” Harry held his index finger half an inch from his thumb, “to being kicked out of the gang.”

Draco’s jaw dropped for a moment before he caught himself and cleared his expression to something more neutral. “That’s not fair,” he said. “Ron’s not hurting you. He just doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry curled his upper lip hatefully. “Is that what your best friend has been saying?”

“Shut up Harry,” Draco sighed and poured them both coffee that Harry accepted with bad grace.

“I told him he’s burning a bridge, I told him he’s not thinking right, but he is sad,” Draco stressed. “It’s hard to separate you from— from what happened,” he said quietly, his grey eyes flicking towards Fred.

Harry also glanced at Fred, but Fred was just listlessly poking at his eggs. It was nearly painful to see Fred so dull when he’d always associated him with bright cheer. But Harry probably wouldn’t be too cheerful if his dad had been killed by a giant snake, something Snape reminded him of right before he went to Grimmauld the first time over break.

Harry had expected to see a bunch of sad red-heads. He steeled himself to deal with tears and messy emotions. Hermione gave him a pep talk on how to be comforting to people who were grieving. What he had not expected was to have Ginny Weasley say that Harry was an evil curse or that things would be better if he were the one who died. And he definitely hadn’t expected Ron to stand there like an idiot while Ginny said that shit. He’d brushed off Ron’s belief that Harry should have told Dumbledore that he had the prophecy as something stupid he said while upset. Ron was at the meeting when Harry decided that they would keep the prophecy’s location to themselves. Harry even double checked his notes as soon as he got home to confirm that Ron didn’t have a problem with it then.

Technically, Harry had gotten back to Invisibility Way and planned on kicking Ron out of the gang and possibly killing Ginny Weasley, but Sirius hastily talked him out of it. He said people say things they don’t mean when they’re grieving and that Ron and Ginny were trying to find a reason to explain away an unreasonable loss.

‘Be patient with Ron,’ Sirius said. ‘He’s hurt real bad pup, he needs a friend.’

So Harry told Draco the address for the Order Headquarters, caring not at all that Dumbledore would be pissed once he found out, and knew that Draco could be Ron’s friend.

But now there really was only so much patience he was willing to extend.

“Ron’s on thin fuckin ice,” Harry said, using one of Snape’s muggle expressions. “I’m not dealing with this forever.”

Harry had much more important things to do. Like quidditch practice, and starting the defense club back up. He also had to coordinate with Susan to remind all the members of the gang about their meeting in mid-March and he was having to keep up his Occlumency shields almost constantly to keep Timmy out of his head.

So, no. He really didn’t have time to deal with Ron’s stupid emotions.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKIN MIND?!”

Harry was furious. So mad that his vision had went a bit red and he had to tighten his hands in to fists to keep from cursing Ron.

Ron, who was standing in the middle of the quidditch pitch, glaring at him now.

Harry had started practice at the usual time for Saturday’s, six, and it was eight o’clock now and Ron had finally decided to grace them with his appearance. Then he opened his mouth and sent Harry off in an immediate fury when he said he was resigning from the team.

“Sorry I don’t feel like playing quidditch,” Ron said with a sarcastic sneer. “My dad did just die Harry.”

“And you quitting the team is meant to bring him back?” Harry demanded. “It’s January Ron, how am I supposed to replace you before our game in March?!”

The rest of the team landed quietly, watching the showdown between the captain and assistant captain with wide eyes.

“You don’t get it!” Ron yelled. “I don’t care about games or flying or any of it! It’s pointless! My dad’s never going to be here to see any it!”

Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him.

“Neither’s mine, but you don’t see me crying about it!”

“Well you’ve never really given much of a damn about your parents, have you?”

Fuck it.

Harry lurched forward and used his already conveniently clenched fist to hit Ron right in his mouth. He had a moment of satisfaction when he saw Ron’s eyes widen and his lip split from the impact, right up until Ron grabbed the front of Harry’s robes and hit him back, hard enough to shatter his glasses and send them flying.

Trent screamed, and someone tiny and blonde, either Daphne or Draco, tried to break them apart, but it was well past that.

“You’re- so- selfish- sometimes-“ Ron yelled, emphasizing each word with a hard punch to Harry’s ribs.

“You hit like a first year,” Harry spat, driving his knee up in to Ron’s stomach, causing the other boy to let out an oomph of pain.

“You don’t care about anyone,” Ron hissed, landing an open hand slap to Harry’s ear.

Harry ignored both the muted shouts from their teammates and the ringing in his left ear as he used a good kick to knock Ron on the ground where Harry could hit him much more effectively.

“I cared about you, you fucking dick,” Harry said, driving his fist as hard as he could in to Ron’s stomach. “I sent hot chocolate with Draco for you, didn’t I?”

Ron, who was actually a much better fighter than Harry would have guessed, grabbed Harry by the hair and used the leverage to flip them until he was on top of Harry and able to punch his throat with enough force to knock the air right out of him.

“You thought it was funny, having everyone look for that thing.” Ron jumped to his feet while Harry was still struggling for air and aimed two quick and cheap kicks to Harry’s already burning side. Harry bit back a hiss as he was pretty sure Ron cracked a rib. “And I don’t like hot chocolate!”

Harry glared viciously at the kid he befriended on a train. The same guy who once threw mud at Bulstrode for insulting him and went down in the Chamber with him to fight a basilisk. The friend that had spent an hour picking out an owl with Harry. The person who kept blaming Harry for a death that he didn’t actually cause.

Harry reached out quick as a snake and grabbed Ron’s ankle with a sharp tug, knocking him flat on his back.

“You didn’t complain when we made that decision,” Harry gasped, quickly getting to his feet and putting one boot on Ron’s neck before he had a chance to move. “You didn’t say a fuckin word then. And everyone likes hot chocolate you moron. It’s supposed to make you happy.”

Ron, rather fearlessly, spat a mouthful of bloody saliva up towards Harry. Which was daft, considering it just fell back on his own shoulder. “How was I supposed to know what would happen?”

Harry put some pressure on Ron’s neck, watching as his pupils dilated from the restricting air flow. “How was I?” Harry asked, calm now as he always was when he was in control. “Tell me HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW RON? HOW?”

Ron’s eyes glazed over, either from some emotion Harry couldn’t pinpoint or from the lack of oxygen that was making his face darken. Harry didn’t really care much which it was.

“You know everything,” Ron gasped out, sounding desperate now. “You always do.”

Harry shoved away whichever person was brave enough to grab his shoulder and focused on applying a bit more pressure to Ron’s throat.

“You think I wouldn’t have made a different decision if I’d known?” Harry yelled. “You think I’m some monster who would have sacrificed your family for a joke?” Harry pushed down harder, equally furious and hurt now. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Ron gasped, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple from the lack of air. Harry abruptly took his foot off Ron’s neck and repaid his earlier cheap shots by kicking him once in the side just as hard as he had done to him.

“I’m not a monster,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you think then we’re done. You can quit the team and you’re out of the gang.”

Harry would wipe his memory, erase every word he’d ever even whispered from his head. And if he fucked up and took too much? That also fell in to the category of things that weren’t his problem.

Ron was wheezing, massaging his throat and trying to swallow mouthfuls of air. Tears were pouring from his eyes as he stared up at Harry. “You didn’t know?” he gasped out.

Harry shook his head at Ron’s pathetically weak question. “How could I?” Harry backed away, leaving Ron to get to his feet by himself. “I never would have done that to Fred, or to you. We’re supposed to be friends.”

Ron was shaky, his knees wobbling as he stood and stared at Harry, as if seeing him clearly now.

“I’m a shit friend,” Ron said in a hoarse whisper, wiping the tears off his face. “And you didn’t kill my dad.”

“You finally got a couple things right,” Harry said coolly.

The two of them stared at each other, both bruised and bleeding, until Ron’s upper lip quivered just the slightest amount. “Were you going to suffocate me in front of all these witnesses?”

Harry threw a careless look at the teammates standing behind him and shrugged. “I would have wiped their memory afterwards,” he said.

“That’s a shit plan,” Ron said with a weak chuckle.

“Well you broke my fuckin rib, didn’t you?” Harry said, feeling the sharp sting with every inhale he took.

“Sorry about that,” Ron said airily, “but since you got even by crushing my neck with your boot...” he trailed off with a shrug.

Harry looked over at his team again and rolled his eyes at their huddle and uncertain expressions. “Practice is over,” he called to them. “Go to breakfast or whatever you lot do when you’re not here.”

Trent immediately scrambled away, followed by the others. Although Draco shot Ron and Harry both an odd look that Harry hissed at him for.

It was satisfying sometimes, seeing people still so blatantly scared of Parsletongue. Especially when Harry usually just made up the most ridiculous swears, knowing nobody could understand them.

Ron waited until the others were gone before he took an unsure step towards Harry.

“You didn’t kill my dad,” he repeated again.

As if Harry didn’t already know that, thanks.

“Took you long enough,” Harry sneered. “But I’m going to kill the snake that did kill him, if that helps any.”

Ron seemed to actually have to think that over, which was ridiculous. If he was pissed at Harry for some random decision he’d made months ago, pissed enough to throw punches, then he better be just as angry at the actual snake who killed Arthur.

“Can I help?”

Harry tilted his head and studied Ron carefully through half-hooded eyes.

“Not if you’re out of the gang,” he eventually decided. “It’s a war Ron, you have to pick a side and be loyal.”

Ron took a deep breath, the slight rattle coming from his chest making Harry think he had done a bit more damage than he meant to him, and pulled himself up tall.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I said, and for blaming you. You were right, I didn’t argue about the plan over the summer, and it wasn’t fair for me to do it now. Can—“ Ron looked unsure, chewing on his lip for a moment as he hesitated, “Can we still be friends?”

“You just broke my rib,” Harry said drily. “And now you wanna be friends?”

“I...” Ron trailed off and looked around him before plucking up a bent and broken pair of silver frames and grinning at Harry. “I broke your glasses too.”

Harry stared incredulously at Ron for a long moment before letting out a huff of a laugh. What a prat.

“Are you coming?” he asked Ron, setting off a bit blindly towards the castle.

Ron set off in a jog to catch up, causing him to wince even as he grinned at Harry slyly.

“You throw a mean punch,” he said.

“You don’t do bad yourself,” Harry begrudgingly admitted.

There weren’t a lot of things that could be fixed with a good old fashioned muggle fight, but this apparently seemed to be one of them.

The detention Snape gave them when Harry and Ron arrived in the Great Hall looking like they’d just beaten the hell out of each other was almost worth it too. So was the rapid paling of Ron’s face when Harry informed him that he was on his last chance with the gang.

“Next time you act like a prat you’re out,” Harry said cheerfully. “D’you really not like hot chocolate?”

Another plus of solving his differences with Ron was that it gave Harry an excellent idea for the next step in the Defense Club.

“You can’t be serious,” Hermione deadpanned when Harry told them about it the night before the club resumed.

“He is,” Susan grinned. “I love it.”

Harry wasn’t running a democracy, a fancy word for ‘everyone gets a vote’ that Blaise taught him, but he did want everyone’s opinions.

“Dray? Lue? What d’you guys think?”

“I think I’m going to be exceptionally bad at it,” Luna said with a bright smile. “And Draco isn’t going to like it one bit.”

“I already don’t,” Draco agreed.

Harry didn’t ask Fred, mostly because Fred didn’t seem to be listening anyway, and he knew what Ron’s opinion was. He also knew Theo would agree with Hermione.

“Nev?” Harry gave Neville a hopeful look but frowned when he saw Neville wasn’t paying attention either.

Neville had been quiet lately, but Harry just assumed it was from Bellatrix escaping and visiting his parents over break. But here Harry was, eager to share his ideas with everyone, and Neville was just frowning down at a blank essay in front of him.

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry poked him a bit harder than necessary. “Everything alright?”

Neville looked startled, as if Harry hadn’t been trying to talk to him the last couple of minutes, and then his frown deepened.

“No,” he said. “I need to talk to you.” Neville looked around at the others and nodded. “All of you.”

Harry and Susan exchanged a look, and Harry immediately put up a strong protective bubble around their table. Everyone, even Fred now, gave Neville a serious look of attention.

“Dumbledore came to my Gram during break,” he said baldly. “He wants me to report back to him what we talk about.”

“He wants you to be a spy?” Theo asked, his eyes narrowed and glittering dangerously.

“Basically,” Neville admitted. He looked at Harry, his hazel eyes solemn and serious. “I told him no Harry, right in front of Gram. Told him I wouldn’t do it.”

“Good man,” Fred slapped Neville’s shoulder approvingly.

“Does that mean Dumbledore’s going to ask the rest of us to do it?” Blaise asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes at the thought.

“Probably,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Five galleons that he doesn’t ask Draco though.”

“Why not me?” Draco asked, looking affronted. He stuck his pointed nose up in the air haughtily. “I could be an excellent spy.”

“You’d be a traitor,” Susan said flatly. “And traitors are executable.”

That got Draco’s nose back to a normal position as he grimaced. “I was kidding.”

“But Dumbledore isn’t,” Neville said. “He really wants someone to spy on you Harry, he didn’t seem happy that I said no.”

“And..?” Harry drawled, having a gut instinct that said there was more to this story still.

“And he was insistent,” Neville said. “He told Gram that there’s ‘a trail of unsolved murders’ following you, and I was in danger because of our alliance.”

“That sanctimonious bastard,” Hermione hissed, startling Susan in to a laugh with her swear. “How dare he?”

“I know,” Neville slumped in his seat and traced the table with his middle finger. “Gram wants me to honor our alliance, she said that Harry is a good leader, but... but she also seemed upset when Dumbledore told her that there were ‘open investigations’ surrounding you Harry.”

Harry picked at his nails, mostly confused why Neville was so disturbed by this. For all he knew, there were open investigations surrounding him. But they couldn’t prove anything, so he wasn’t worried.

“If you tell Dumbledore a single word that we talk about I will end your life Neville Longbottom,” Susan said harshly. “I don’t care what he said—“

“I’m not,” Neville hastily assured her. “I told Gram that I wasn’t going to, she just didn’t seem real pleased with me.”

“Well this is the same woman that let your uncle drop you from a balcony, yeah?” Harry checked. “I don’t suppose I give much of a damn if she’s happy or not.”

Neville perked up a little and gave Harry a hesitant look, his eyes round and a bit pleading. “If she kicks me out...”

“You can stay with us,” Harry assured him quickly. “I’ve been wanting an excuse to move to the new place anyway.”

All the tension in Neville’s shoulders seemed to rush out in a quick release. “Thanks mate.”

Harry shrugged and went back to picking at his nails. If it were up to him, he’d have everyone move in to Invisibility Way and spend every holiday together. He’d always dreamed about having a bunch of siblings back when it was just him against the world, and, looking around at his ‘misfits’, as Snape called them, he didn’t think that he could have imagined a group like this even in his wildest dreams.

“And, for the record, I like the idea for the meeting tomorrow,” Neville said. “I’m going to get my arse kicked, but I like it.”

Conversation switching back to what Harry considered to be leagues more important than Albus Dumbledore, Harry was pleased that Ron, Neville, Susan, Blaise, and Fred were all on board with the defense plan. Hermione and Theo thought it was ‘a recipe for disaster’, and Draco and Luna were just worried about getting hurt.

“I’ll partner you guys up,” he told them.

Draco didn’t look very reassured, but Harry was certain that Luna had to hide a grin behind her hand at some thought she must have had.

“If I get a drop of blood on my clothes then I will leave,” Draco swore.

Harry’s list of ‘things that weren’t his problem’ seemed to be growing every day.

“SHUT UP!” Harry yelled the next night. He was dressed in a pair of loose joggers and a long sleeve t-shirt, ready to begin the next phase of defense training. “I need everyone to line up according to height!” he yelled at the ninety or so students who came to the meeting.

Apparently those were difficult directions, which didn’t bode well for the students picking up on his next set of instructions very well in his opinion.

Once the students got lined up, Fred and George towards the head of the line, as the tallest, and Trent Bailey in the end as one of the shortest, Harry paced in front of them all.

“I don’t know how to teach you to be better at magic,” he said with blunt honesty. “For all I know, you might be bloody terrible anyway.”

Judging from their first lesson, when over half the students struggled to put up a proper shield, was nothing but the truth.

“But there’s more than one way to defend yourself,” Harry said, sizing them all up like a general eyeing his soldiers. “Just like the knives you better be carrying, can be a sneak attack that your opponent won’t expect— so is this.”

Before anyone could react, Harry punched Ron in the stomach.

“I owed you for the cost of my new glasses,” he said in a saccharine voice that Ron just winced and nodded at.

Harry needed new glasses anyway, his prescription apparently changed since he was eleven, but Ron also needed a reminder that Harry wasn’t putting up with any more drama with his friends.

“We’re learning to fight?” Trent asked, his green eyes blown wide.

“Yup.” Harry smiled sharply at them, eager to see what happens when a bunch of Wixen kids are taught how to kill a person with their bare hands. “Tonight I’m going to show you how to make a fist that won’t break your thumbs, the best places to punch, how to block those punches, and pair you up for fights next week. Yeah?”

Harry felt a small rush of gleeful power when these students, these future leaders in the magical world, all looked at him like he was someone important, someone respectable, and agreed with him.

Harry would need to check, but he was pretty sure neither Dumbledore, nor Timmy, ever had as much power with their peers as he did.

Again, see: Things That Are Not His Problem.

Chapter Text

Wednesday January 15

At the sound of the first knock of what would be the first arrival of a dozen for the evening, Severus sighed and called out a curt beckon to enter.

Instead of Bulstrode’s pasty face and dark hair, Severus was surprised to see Dolores entering his office.

“Dolores,” he said evenly, refraining from showing his surprise or his disdain. “How can I help you?”

Dolores smiled widely, her eyelids fluttering all the while. “As the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, I’ve come to assist you with your career advice, that is tonight, isn’t it Severus?”

Severus felt his eyelid twitch, but as Dolores was already pulling up a chair, and Bulstrode’s head was poking in the classroom, he attempted to simply get this over with quickly. He did not doubt that if he protested Dolores’ ‘assistance’ that he would have a parchment thrust in his hands with a decree giving her the power to do precisely what she wished.

His headache began when Bulstrode grunted out her aspirations to become an inventor.

“What type of inventions do you foresee yourself working on?” Severus asked.

The idiot girl had hemmed and hawed until Severus lost his patience and sent her on her way with a handful of pamphlets for lower entry level positions within the Ministry.

“I’m afraid with grades like hers she’ll be lucky to scorgify the lifts,” Dolores tittered.

While incredibly rude, Dolores was not actually incorrect.

Severus suffered through a joint meeting with Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom decided to arrive together since they had the same career goal.

“Monster hunters,” he repeated, staring in to their eager eyes. “You would like to hunt monsters after graduating.”

“Yeah,” Crabbe said, nodding like some type of vapid gorilla shaped bobble-head. “We’d find monsters, and kill ‘em, and write a book about it.”

Severus saw that they were both at least scraping by in both Care of Magical Creatures and Defense, the latter likely due to the ‘Inquisitorial Squad’ badges they had so stupidly pinned to their chests.

“I suggest you read up on alternative methods to earn income as killing monsters will not bring any profits until you actually sell a book,” Severus told them. “Here.”

He supplied them with the same pamphlets he gave Bulstrode. Despite Slytherin’s ability to breed many leaders and high ranking officials, there were just as many former Slytherin’s living out their lives completing menial tasks. Ambition was not always solely career driven, and cunning could only overtake brainpower so far.

Davis and Greengrass were two easier students to advise, even with Dolores breathing down his neck.

Davis wished to work in astronomy in some form, a field she was well-suited for with her current grades and courses. Severus provided her with a list of careers within the field and assured her that his office was open if she would like to speak more with him about it, but that perhaps Professor Sinistra was a better choice.

Greengrass was a pleasant surprise as she came prepared with her own transcripts and current schedule.

“I will be a Healer,” she said, staring Severus down and daring him to contradict her.

Severus raised a brow at her challenging tone and looked over the paperwork she provided. “You are aware of the strenuous and time consuming education that Healing requires?”

“I am,” she said primly. “I don’t care. That’s what I’m doing.”

Severus handed her back her parchments with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Then I wish you the best of luck and shall see you in my NEWT level course next year.”

Draco was quite the surprise. Draco came strutting in to his classroom, his light blonde hair perfectly styled, nose stuck up in the air, and announced that he would like to be a journalist.

Severus was caught by surprise for a moment. “A journalist?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” Draco said stiffly, defensive enough to remind Severus that his opinion here had the potential to wound his godsons feelings.

“Interesting,” Severus said neutrally. “What draws you to that career? I always believed you would prefer working with creatures or go in to politics.”

Draco glanced towards Dolores, maintaining his expressionless mask, and hummed thoughtfully.

“I plan on writing about magical creatures,” he said. “Perhaps work on a publication for them.”

Aah.

Lovegood.

Severus had forgotten about their courtship. Draco must be more enamored by the witch than he had expected.

“I see no dilemma with your courses and grades to prevent you from pursuing journalism,” he said patiently. “Although I would recommend you continue on with potions next year, as I have high hopes to offer Lovegood an apprenticeship for a mastery I hope she pursues.”

“Lovegood?” Dolores cackled. “The girl couldn’t possibly be bright enough for a Mastery in Potions Severus. She’s barely scraping by with an A in Defense, and her essays are complete disasters.”

Severus was spared defending the witch that he considers to be his greatest pupil yet by Draco’s indignant retort.

“Luna is a genius,” he said, his eyes narrowing at Dolores. “She just doesn’t find your class to be very worthwhile.”

With that, Draco snatched up the pamphlet for journalism, a general one for writing, and the Potions Mastery one that Severus subtly slid to him before stalking out of the classroom quickly.

Dolores’ mouth was gaping open, an accusing look aimed at Severus.

“Teenagers,” Severus said drily with a shrug.

He would have to remember to award Draco points later though.

Severus’ next student, Theodore, was trickier, as he knew what educational path he wished to follow, but not the specific career.

“Alchemy is terribly interesting,” he said, leaning forward and pulling lightly on his shaggy brunette hair with both hands. “But so is space Professor. Can you imagine it? Exploring outer space?”

“That’s a muggle concept,” Dolores said with a faint sneer. “I think you’d be better off with something like teaching.”

As that was an entirely asinine comment, neither Severus nor Theodore responded.

“You are not without a plethora of options,” Severus assured him. “Your grades are excellent, your professors have sang your praises in your reviews, and I don’t anticipate you encountering any struggles in any field you wish to enter.”

Theodore nodded, not bothering to feint humility as they both knew the facts.

“However,” Severus went on, “aerospace engineering is a muggle field. You would need to acquire muggle education to enter it. Are you prepared to get caught up to a muggle graduate level education?”

“I already have been,” Theodore said proudly. “Hermione and I have been taking courses over the summer. They’re online courses, so Hermione sends me the worksheets and I send them back and she submits my answers online. I’ve gotten all A’s, which is the best grade in Muggle gradebooks.”

Severus actually believed that between Greengrass, Draco, and Theodore that perhaps this night would not be a waste. Perhaps he had enough students with enough brains and ambition to make this feel worthwhile.

Until he sent Theodore on his way with a variety of pamphlets to pursue and was faced with Parkinson.

Who, apparently, aspired to ‘marry rich’.

“That girl will be lucky to marry middle-class with her looks,” Dolores muttered after Parkinson refused any pamphlets and left his classroom.

“Not everyone can be blessed with good looks Dolores,” Severus said calmly with a sly look towards Dolores’ own repulsive facial features.

Before Dolores could work through Severus’ implied insult, Potter entered the classroom with bright eyes and a lazy strut.

“Seems silly to have me here when we both know what I’m doing, yeah?” he grinned, relaxing in the chair across from Severus and blatantly ignoring Dolores’ greeting.

“I am required to record a session of advising with you, and thus,” Severus spread his hands over the pamphlets, “here we are.”

Potter plucked up a few of the colorful brochures that discussed various fields before scoffing. “Is there one for Minister of Magic in here?”

Dolores seemed to actually choke at Potter’s innocent question.

“Minister?” She leaned towards Potter and her beady eyes went wide. “You want to be the next Minister of Magic?”

“I don’t want to be the next Minister, I will be,” Potter said with an arrogant drawl. “Hopefully Cornelius remains Minister until I come of age in 2010, then with 2012 being the next election year, I’d take over.” Potter folded his hands across his abdomen with a smirk.

Severus was incredibly fond of the way that Potter’s cool confidence had Dolores quite shaken.

“Does Minister Fudge know you plan on running against him?” Dolores asked sharply.

Potter chuckled and crossed his legs. “Course he does,” he said. “We talked about it over tea last summer, didn’t we? He said he’d be happy to be Minister well in to his nineties, but that losing to me wouldn’t be a bad loss at all.”

Severus had no doubt that Potter was directly quoting the Minister. No man in office could hope to run against Potter, especially when Potter’s campaign was so neatly planned.

Step one was to vanquish the Dark Lord.

Step two was to remind the Wixen World of Britain that he vanquished the Dark Lord twice.

Severus believed that step three was to simply win in a landslide election.

And he was quite confident that step four was labeled ‘complete chaos’.

Dolores seemed to accept Potter’s words at face value as she coyly lowered her eyes and smiled. “I’m sure that Minister Fudge would be happy to teach you everything he knows,” she said with a juvenile giggle unbecoming of both a professor or any self-respecting adult. “I could write him, if you’d like, and set something up?”

Potter raised a single brow at Dolores. “If I want to meet with Cornelius, I’ll set it up myself. Thanks.” He turned back to Severus and shook his head in blatant exasperation. “All set here?”

“Not quite,” Severus said. “Since you rejected the offer from the Tutshill Tornados, what is your plan for the fourteen years between graduation and your Ministry position?”

“Pft,” Potter scoffed and shrugged. “I’m still sending tryout memories to recruiters, aren’t I? Just because I don’t want to be reserve seeker doesn’t mean someone else won’t offer me a better position.”

“And if that falls through?” Severus asked.

Potter’s cool mask slipped for just a moment, just long enough for Severus to see that the foolish child had never even considered such a scenario.

“It won’t,” Potter said, calm and confident once more. “And if it does then I’ll just hang out with you for fourteen years.” Potter got to his feet with an impudent grin and unrepentant challenge in his eyes. “Here,” he pulled a pain-relieved from his robe pocket and placed it on the table. “Figured you’d want that.”

Potter was nearly to the doorway when Severus recognized the bottle from his own private stores. “Detention Harry,” he called.

“Brill,” Potter laughed and closed the door behind him.

“He is... quite ambitious,” Dolores said. “I presume he gets that from you Severus?”

“Potter was born ambitious,” he said indifferently. “The child will achieve every goal he has set for himself.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dolores giggled once more.

Severus went ahead and ignored decorum for once as he drank the pain reliever. If Dolores insisted on making irksome noises then he would need something to combat the migraine that this evening was causing.

Thankfully, Severus only had two more students.

Weasley wished to enter the Ministry, though he was uncertain as to which career would suit him best.

“You have always been skilled in strategy,” Severus told him, thinking of the boys many recommendations during Potter’s war meetings and his skill in both gambling and chess. “Why not pursue an area of consulting within one of the departments? Perhaps the DMLE?”

Weasley seemed pleased with Severus’ recommendation and accepted the pamphlets he offered him easily.

Zabini, five minutes late for the meeting, did not bother to even sit. He leaned in Severus’ doorway, crossing his arms and smirking at him.

“My life has been planned since I was eleven,” he said with a bored drawl. “I’m going to offer my magical assistance to my allies, my physical assistance to many others. Then when Mother retires from the Italian Counsel, I’ll take her place. Goodnight Professor.”

Severus blinked as Zabini strolled out of his office, his head held high.

Had a child actually just told him that he essentially planned on living some sort of philandering lifestyle?

It was disturbing.

Amusing, certainly. But disturbing nonetheless.

After cleaning his classroom and dismissing Dolores rather curtly, Severus attempted to recall previous years of ‘career advice’ to his other Slytherins. He was quite certain that he had never had such a queer assortment of student career aspirations as he did this year. It was a struggle, but Severus did his best to blame Potter for it.

Life in the castle seemed to hit a blessedly calm plateau for a few weeks. Severus taught his classes, marked essays, and completed his rounds. He met with Minerva once a week and shared gossip and complaints.

Severus also met with various students and professors who had either complaints or compliments to share regarding Potter’s defense club.

“He’s making the students punch each other,” Pomona snickered in the teachers lounge one night. “I popped in yesterday and he had a whole fight club going Severus!”

Severus had been incredibly amused by Potter’s refusal to teach his fellow students actual magic, and lifted a shoulder carelessly.

”I presume the students are allowed to leave any time they want,” he said. “It’s hardly Harry’s fault if they are choosing to act as punching bags.”

”I’m thinking about offering him advanced charm lessons in exchange for boxing lessons,” Filius said thoughtfully. “Do you think he’d go for it Severus?”

Severus considered Potter’s glee at being asked by a professor to teach them something, an undeniable boost to the child’s ever-expanding ego.

”Undoubtedly,” he sighed.

Hagrid also returned to his teaching post, much to the complaints of the general student body who preferred Wilhelmina’s teaching methods. Sybill was placed on probation by Dolores, which amused Severus and Minerva to no end. Severus received back a glowing review from his inspections, a review he promptly fed to the fire in his sitting room.

Severus knew it was foolish, but as he gathered nocturnal plants from the edge of the grounds one night, he believed that this was perhaps the most peace that he had experienced at Hogwarts since Potter’s arrival.

Severus had gathered a basketful of ingredients, pleased with the plants that Pomona grew for his potions. He was making his way back to the castle, ruminating on if Pomona could be convinced to add an additional greenhouse for his own uses, when his peaceful evening was interrupted quite abruptly.

“Evening Sev,” Nymphadora cut in to his silent musings with a bright smile and chipper voice. “Mind if I join you?”

“I do,” Severus said curtly, though he was entirely ignored by the woman. He was annoyed that she had managed to surprise him, though he quickly chalked it up to her recent auror training and his lack of vigilance since being ousted as a spy. He glanced at Nymphadora and saw that she was sporting a thick cloak, as if she had been traveling. “Where are you coming from?” he asked politely, seeing as she was apparently accompanying him back to the castle.

“Hogsmeade,” she said with a hint of a frown. “Charlie was drinking himself to death, so Rosemerta asked me to help him get home.”

“Charlie?” Severus racked his brains until he recalled Nymphadora spending time with Charles Weasley during their school years. “Ah, Weasley,” he said. “I take it that he has chosen to bury his grief in alcohol?”

“Yeah,” she sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. “He’s not doing so great.”

“I see.” Severus had no advice to offer the witch on how to console a grieving friend, so he remained quiet as they walked alongside each other towards the castle entrance. Nymphadora did not remain similarly silent, as she began pointing out various constellations in the sky.

“See that one there?” she asked, drawing closer to Severus and gesturing up to the stars with her blue mittens. “That’s Perseus, his brides name was Andromeda, which is where my grandmother got my mum’s name from. Perseus was a Greek hero, he beheaded Medusa.”

“Medusa was the one with snakes for hair, was she not?” Severus asked, never having found an interest in Greek Mythology.

“Yeah, she was beautiful, but got cursed with the snakes by Athena, the Goddess of Righteousness, for being seduced in one of Athena’s temples by Poseidon.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Severus mused, staring up at the stars in the middle of the lawns.

Nymphadora inched closer to Severus, her arm brushing his as she spoke. “It wasn’t,” she said with a sense of indignation in her tone. “Some people say that Poseidon forced himself on Medusa, but Athena couldn’t punish him so she just punished Medusa. I think if I ever had a daughter, I’d name her Medusa.”

Severus’ lips twitched in amusement as he looked over at Nymphadora. “You would name your daughter after a woman who was assaulted, had her hair turned to snakes, and was beheaded by Perseus?”

“Yup.” Nymphadora had a crooked smile, a guileless and open crooked smile. “But it’s because I think Medusa stands for injustice and the need for feminism, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” Severus thought it over as he slowly resumed walking. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “Is Nymphadora not a Greek name as well?”

“It is.” Severus looked over and saw Nymphadora rolling her eyes. “It means ‘gift of the Nymphs’, not nearly as interesting as a woman with snakes for hair.”

Severus chuckled without meaning to at her petulant tone. “Nymphadora is a unique name,” he told her. “You should be pleased to have it.”

“Was that a compliment?” Nymphadora asked, her eyes twinkling. “From you Sev? I thought you barely knew my name and here I find out that you think it’s unique.”

Severus scowled to cover his previous slip-up. “As I taught you for seven years, it would be difficult to not know your name.”

Nymphadora ignored the blatant reminder of the discrepancy between their ages and shrugged. “Is that why you won’t have a drink with me?” she asked. “Because you remember me at eleven? I have grown up since then,” she winked.

Severus’ rebuttal, that he was attempting to come up with quickly, was spared by the arrival of a silver lynx.

“We need you in the Headmasters office,” Shacklebolt’s calm and steady voice said to Nymphadora. “Immediately.”

Nymphadora wasted no time and all but pushed past Severus as she began sprinting up the castle stairs.

Severus could have went down to his quarters, put away the ingredients he had harvested, and he should have. Instead, he found himself following Nymphadora’s trail through the castle and up to the Headmasters office. He did take a shortcut, in an effort to time his arrival alongside hers so he could be granted entrance to whatever spectacle was unfolding.

Nymphadora raised a pink brow at him when she jogged up to the entrance, but shrugged and let him follow her once the gargoyles opened the door without the password.

The scene that Severus and Nymphadora burst in to was one of such absurdity that no one bothered to question Severus’ presence.

Albus was standing behind his desk, his eyes lit with a furious fire and fixed on Dolores. Dolores was holding Ginevra Weasley by the shirt collar in one hand, and Seamus Finnigan in the other. The Minister himself was standing beside where Finnigan was being held, a triumphant expression on his face.

Severus backed to where Minerva was standing, raising a quizzical brow at her only to have the witch shake her head.

“What’s going on?” Nymphadora asked Shacklebolt, who was flanking the Minister.

“What’s going on is that Dumbledore is being arrested for conspiracy!” Fudge cried, bouncing on his feet with entirely too much excitement for the given situation.

“A ludicrous and baseless accusation,” Minerva said. “From a—“

“That is enough,” Albus told Minerva with a pointed look. “I would like to hear the evidence against me. And I would like for you to unhand my students,” he added coolly to Dolores.

Dolores didn’t look inclined to cooperate, until Severus twitched his wand subtly at his side and sent a stinging hex at the woman. He had no affection for two of the children who had caused his ward the most grief out of the student body, but he would hardly stand to the side as children were man-handled either.

“These children were caught participating in, leading, a group of students in illegal activities according to Decree Number Seven,” Dolores said. “And they called themselves Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Dumbledore’s Army!” Fudge yelled. “I knew you were abusing your position to raise an army up Albus! And here’s the proof!”

Severus bit back a scoff that threatened to escape him. Albus had been hand-selecting students to be a part of the prestigious Order since the times of Grindewald. Although he was certain that was not what this was, it was hardly a revolutionary concept.

“A poorly chosen name for a group of children who wished to study defense,” Minerva said. “I don’t see how that warrants Albus’ arrest!”

“It was our idea,” Ginevra spat. “We wanted—“

“Quiet girl,” Severus said sternly, doing a small favor for Frederick in keeping his sister from somehow being expelled or arrested as well. “Hold your foolish tongue.”

Ginevra clearly did not appreciate Severus’ reprimand if her hate-filled glare was any indicator, but it seemed as if she were being ignored either way as Minerva and Dolores argued.

“Why wouldn’t they join the approved Defense Club if that’s all that this was?” Dolores asked Minerva. “If this wasn’t in fact a training group for Albus’ private army?”

“Probably because they don’t get along with Harry and didn’t want to join his club.” Minerva was all but growling as she stared down Dolores. “Again, I don’t see how that’s Albus’ problem.”

“We’ll just clear this up at the Ministry,” Fudge said with a calming hand on Dolores’ shoulder. “Shacklebolt, Tonks, arrest him.”

Albus smiled at the aurors’ hesitation to grab him. “I’m afraid I have no intention of being arrested Cornelius,” he said calmly.

“You plan to fight my aurors single-handedly?” Fudge sneered.

“Merlin no,” Albus said with a kind smile towards Nymphadora and Shacklebolt. “I intend to leave,“ Albus clapped his hands above his head and grabbed the tail feathers of his Phoenix, Fawkes, “You will regret this decision Cornelius.”

“Seize him!” Fudge screamed at the aurors. Before either one of them could make an attempt to grab on to Albus, with a blinding flash of silver light and a screech from the Phoenix, Albus disappeared.

“Where did he go?” Fudge cried, gaping at the spot where Albus had disappeared from.

“We’ll find him sir,” Shacklebolt said calmly.

“See that you do,” Fudge seethed, clearly distressed from the loss of arresting Albus. “Minerva! Take those two to their beds,” he gestured carelessly to Weasley and Finnigan.

Minerva said nothing to Fudge, guiding the two Gryffindor’s towards the office door. Severus followed behind them, waiting until the lower office door closed to sneer at the idiotic students who caused such a debacle due to their inability to either follow the rules or at least operate with some sense of secrecy.

“A week of detention,” he told them. “And fifty points from Gryffindor, each.”

Finnigan opened his mouth to argue, looking scandalized, but Minerva cut him off.

“Two weeks of detention,” she said. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”

Severus smiled to himself as Weasley and Finnigan’s arguments were put down by an obviously furious Minerva as they went their separate directions.

Although, Severus lost his smile the next morning at the notice that was plastered along every corridor of the castle. Dolores clearly had wasted no time in marking her territory.

He had always idly wondered if there could possibly be a more galling Headmaster at Hogwarts than Albus had been with his preferential treatment of some students, his inherent distrust of others, and his overall secrecy and never ending plots.

It seemed that there was.

BY ORDER OF
The Ministry of Magic
 
Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
 
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.
Signed:
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
MINISTER OF MAGIC

Chapter Text

January 30th

“HARRY!!”

Harry leapt out of bed and was met face first with a thick shield charm, smashing his nose and knocking him backwards back on to his bed.

“What the...?”

Harry squinted through the shield and sighed. Susan was standing on the other side of it, a ridiculously huge smile on her face and her wand twirling in her hand.

Harry hadn’t known how menacing Susan would look when he taught her how to twirl her wand.

“Sorry, but I knew you’d stab me if I screamed to wake you up,” she said cheerfully, dispelling the charm with a murmured spell.

“So instead of not screaming, you chose to put up a shield?” Draco asked peering sleepily from behind the curtains of his bed.

“You’re going to scream too when I tell you what happened.” Susan’s red curls were going crazy as she was bouncing in place with obvious excitement.

“Is Timmy dead?” Fred grunted from his place on Harry’s bed.

“Almost as good!”

“Dumbledore’s dead?” Harry asked.

“Not quite so good.”

“Endless bacon for breakfast?” Ron said with a wistful smile.

“There’s always endless bacon at breakfast,” Susan rolled her eyes.

“Dumbledore’s been fired?” Theo guessed.

“Bingo!”

Harry blinked at her. once. twice. three times. before his face split in to his own broad smile.

“You’re joking,” he breathed. “What happened??”

“I don’t know!” Susan said. “Not for sure, but Parvati Patil said that Ginny and Finnigan got caught with their defense club—“

“Parvati Patil?” Draco interrupted Susan with a scrunched up nose. “Why were you with the boring Patil?”

“She’s an excellent kisser,” Susan said with a careless shrug. “Anyway—“

“I thought you were chasing after Lavender?” Fred asked.

“Been there, got that,” Susan smirked. “Now shut the hell up so I can finish! Aaaanyway, Parvati said that those idiots named their defense club ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ and Dumbledore got fired for it!”

Harry had no idea how one event was related to the other, but the announcement Susan thrust in his hand was undeniable.

“But Umbridge is Headmistress,” Harry groaned as he passed Fred the newest decree. “She’s terrible Sue.”

“I don’t care if they made Goyle the Headmaster,” Susan scoffed, ignoring Goyle’s quiet grunt of resentment.

Honestly, sometimes Harry forgot that Goyle and Crabbe even have beds in their dorm as often as Harry pulls his ‘Heir of Slytherin’ Card and kicks them out.

“Dumbledore is gone, Harry. Goneee.”

Blaise jumped from his bed, already running a smoothing hand over his close cropped black curls. “You know what this means?” he said, throwing his arm over Susan’s shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Susan squealed.

Harry looked between the two of them, then glanced at Ron, Draco, and Theo and was reassured they were as confused as he was. “What’s it mean?” he asked Blaise.

“We’re having a party,” Blaise said. “The biggest and best party this castle has ever seen!”

And so they plotted.

Susan ordered Fred, Ron, and Neville to acquire butterbeer, firewhisky, and food.

Luna, Draco, and Blaise were put in charge of inviting ‘every bloody person in the castle’.

Harry was supposed to find a ‘proper place to have the biggest party ever’.

And Hermione and Theo were told to quit protesting and help get decorations.

Privately Harry was pretty sure Susan just didn’t trust either of the bookworms to put real effort in to illicit party planning, so she gave them their job as an afterthought. But as Harry had what seemed to be the most difficult task, he wasn’t going to defend them.

“How am I supposed to find a place for a party?” Harry groaned at breakfast while the rest of the student body buzzed loudly over Umbridge’s spot in Dumbledore’s chair.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Susan said breezily, her face still glowing from her joy at Dumbledore being fired. “Just find one Potter.”

Harry muttered darkly under his breath about bossy girls and why the hell had he decided to befriend Susan Bones when Theo caught his attention.

“Isn’t there a secret room on the seventh floor?” he asked Harry. “Check your map, I heard Diggory talking about it last year. He said it changes its contents depending on who needs it.”

“That sounds like just the sort of dumb thing Diggory would believe in,” Ron scoffed, never having forgiven Diggory for beating Slytherin’s quidditch team on a technicality in Harry’s third year.

“No there’s really a secret room on the seventh floor, it’s next to a painting of ballerina trolls,” Fred said, looking more lively today than he had in weeks. “But I don’t think it changes, it just appears and disappears sometimes. George and I hid in it in our first year from Filch, but then we never found it again.”

Harry flat out refused to pull out his map, not wanting to risk any of the professors seeing it and trying to confiscate it, but he did think hard back to his second year...

“Beside a painting of trolls in tutus?” he asked Fred. “I’ve been there, but it was a playground.”

“A playground?” Hermione asked. “Why were you in a playground?”

“None of your bloody business, that’s why,” Harry said, his neck heating up at the reminder of why he’d been in there. Snape had definitely taken him to a room on the seventh floor that led to an indoor playground. Harry hadn’t questioned it much at the time, being rather miserable and determined to kill himself, but it warranted some investigation.

“Lue? Wanna come with?” Harry offered, getting to his feet.

“Alright.” Luna took a last drink of the orange juice she always has for breakfast and pecked Draco on the cheek quickly before grabbing Harry’s hand and gliding beside him out of the Great Hall.

“You didn’t eat much today,” she said as they strolled up the back staircase together.

“Mm, guess not,” Harry agreed. He didn’t know how Luna always noticed small details like that, not just about him, but about all of their friends.

“You don’t seem as happy as Susan is,” Luna said after Harry didn’t expound on his previous answer.

“I don’t think anyone can be as happy as Susan,” Harry said with a small grin. Susan hates Dumbledore more than almost any of them, Harry wasn’t surprised one bit by her jubilant emotions today.

“Probably not, no,” Luna laughed, waving to one of the portraits they passed. “Aren’t you happy that Dumbledore’s gone though?”

Harry considered it as they neared the portrait they’d been looking for.

“I would be, if Umbridge didn’t replace him,” he said slowly. “McGonagall? Sure. But Umbridge? She’s...” Harry struggled to find a word to describe the way his insides felt like ice every time Umbridge looked at him. “She’s creepy, isn’t she?”

“She’s super creepy,” Luna agreed immediately, dancing forward to trail her fingers lightly over the painting of the ballerina trolls. “But she’s also very scared of you, so I don’t think you need to worry.”

“I am not worried,” Harry sneered, insulted that she thinks he’d be worried about anyone.

“Silly me,” Luna said airily, backing up so Harry could inspect the wall. “You’d never be worried about the intentions of an adult.”

Harry gave her an exasperated look, sometimes resenting the way she saw through him so well.

“How do you think this works?” he asked, blatantly changing the topic.

“Hmm.” Luna hummed loudly in what sounded to be some sort of lullaby as she trailed her fingers over the wall and squinted at it. “Did you ask it what you want?”

“Did I...” Harry trailed off as he watched Luna pace in front of the wall a few times before a door popped in to existence, just as it had for Snape a few years ago.

“You brilliant witch,” Harry impulsively grabbed Luna and gave her a tight hug. “What would I do without you Lue?”

“Burn the world to ashes,” Luna quipped confidently. “C’mon.”

Harry nudged the door open slowly, poking his head in and letting out a startled laugh at the form the room took.

“It’s a forest,” he said, letting Luna in behind him. He spun around and looked at the tall trees filling the room, the golden sunrise filtering through them, even inhaling the scent of fresh grass. “How did you do this?”

“I asked for it,” Luna said. “You know magic responds when you ask it to do things for you.”

Harry had a sudden memory of being young, really young, and sitting in a dark cupboard. He’d wanted so badly to be special, to be something other than a ‘worthless freak’. He’d ripped a sheet of paper and had begged his magic, not that he had known at the time what it was, to fix it. And eventually, when Harry was nearly in desperate tears, it had.

“I love magic,” he sighed.

“Me too.” Luna smiled at Harry and they had a shared moment of understanding between them. Luna knew how it was to be different, to be called a freak. And she knew now, just as Harry did, that being different, being special, was worth every insult thrown their way. “Do you know how to climb trees?” she asked.

Harry smirked and grabbed her smaller and softer hand. “Lue, I’m London’s all time tree climbing champ, aren’t I?”

Luna laughed and the two of them spent their morning scaling the trees Luna had imagined for them. They left behind thoughts of Umbridge, worries about the war, and all their other problems firmly on the ground as they climbed higher and higher.

“This is perfect,” Susan laughed joyfully when Harry led her to the Hidden Room (Luna called it the Room of Secrets, but that was a mouthful in Harry’s opinion) a couple hours before the party was meant to begin. Harry had done what Luna did, keeping his fingers on the wall as he paced back and forth a few times and asked the room to become a party room for him.

He hadn’t expected the magic to take him quite so literally, but this was the same magic that once painted every fence in Surrey red because Harry hadn’t specifically requested it to only paint the Dursley’s fence. So he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

The Hidden Room had expanded to some sort of ridiculously large area. Half of it was flashing with colorful lights and Harry could hear loud music once he entered that area, and the other half was filled with comfy sofas, red benches, and dark wooden tables. Enough seating space for a hundred students to sit and hang out. There was even a long line of tables covering the back wall, empty aside from silver goblets, plates, punch bowls, and other empty serving trays.

“Let’s get to work.” Susan rolled up the sleeves on the tight white blouse she wore and started levitating boxes that Fred, George, Neville, and Ron began sneaking in beneath Harry’s invisibility cloak.

Harry had rolled his eyes at Theo, amused by Susan’s continuing bossy tone, but after thirty minutes of arranging, rearranging, moving, and decorating, he’d decided that Hufflepuff’s were truly brutal when it came to hard work.

“I swear the Dursley’s were more lenient than Susan,” Harry muttered to Draco.

Draco curled his lip up at the mention of Harry’s muggle relatives. As did Susan, who was apparently shamelessly eavesdropping as she levitated an obstinate banner across the wall above the refreshments table.

“For one, I am very lenient,” Susan called to him in a haughty tone. “For two, what are we doing this summer?”

“Killing Nagini and Bellatrix for sure, maybe Timmy if Barty figured out how to kill him,” Neville answered automatically.

“Can we add the Dursley’s to that list?” Susan asked.

“Yes!” Hermione cried, immediately summoning the to-do list from Susan’s bag by the door. “Ugh, I’ve been dying to add them to the list.”

“That’s the spirit!” Susan turned to give Hermione a rare smile of approval. “If Harry doesn’t want to go, you and I could do it ourselves?”

“Ooh, can I help?” Luna asked.

“The more the merrier,” Hermione muttered distractedly.

”Girls night!” Susan squealed as she put the finishing touches on the banner.

Harry and Theo shared a horrified look.

“You’ve created monsters,” Theo murmured as Hermione scribbled away on the list.

“Me?” Harry was surprised. “It’s your girlfriend plotting a triple homicide mate.”

“Nah, that’s all on you love,” Fred laughed. “You breed psychopaths.”

“Uncle Sev says that Harry ‘fosters feelings of violence and vengeance that overtake all senses of morality’.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at Draco where he was arranging balloons above each table in the quieter section of the room.

“What?” Draco said defensively, noticing the peculiar looks he was getting. “That’s what he said!”

“I like it,” Blaise grinned. “I think that should be the slogan for the gang.”

Harry played with it in his mind for a bit, as everyone got back to work. After thinking on it he decided he liked it too.

Snape definitely had a way with words.

And, after an hour and a half of work in the Hidden Room, and half of hour of Susan, Draco, and Blaise disapproving and approving their outfits, Harry had to admit that Susan was an excellent party planner.

“I still think that the banner’s a bit macabre,” Theo said as the group admired their handiwork.

“I honestly don’t see what’s not to like about it,” Susan said. “I’m keeping it for the party we’ll have when he’s dead too.”

’REST IN PIECES DUMBLEDORE’

“That is exactly what’s so macabre,” Hermione said, smoothing down the pleats in the skirt Susan loaned her. “How long have you had it?”

“I had it made the summer before third year,” Susan shrugged. “It wouldn’t do to not be prepared in case he oh so tragically died.”

“Wouldn’t do at all,” George chuckled. “Are we ready then?”

Harry sent one last look over his group, all dressed in posh party clothes, and looked over the Hidden Room. It was decorated lavishly with black and silver decorations, the food and drinks were set up (Hermione grumpily put up a complicated rune ward to keep any student under fifteen from getting alcohol much to the complaints of Susan), and everything looked a bit like Harry imagined muggle bars and clubs would look.

“Ready,” he told George.

And then, Harry got to experience what was truly the most insanely chaotic night of his life.

It started when it seemed as if the entire student body really had shown up. Including Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan, who Susan gave a whistling and clapping standing ovation to.

“Our heroes!” she cried, amidst loud laughter from the Slytherin’s. “Without your idiocy, none of this would have ever happened!”

Then Harry was bullied in to taking shots with Blaise and Ron. Bullied might be a strong word to use, but his arm had definitely been twisted.

“Here’s to... well,” Blaise twisted his lips in thought before laughing, “anything!” He lifted his tiny glass in the air, clinking Harry and Ron’s before throwing it back like a professional.

Susan and Luna then drug Harry and the twins to the music and flashing lights section of the room, where Susan made short work of finding out how to control the music and turning it to the loudest pop song Harry had ever heard. Harry had attempted to dance with his friends, but he was sweating. He could feel all the bodies of other students pressing up against him, causing his skin to crawl and his stomach to revolt. Thankfully, Fred stomped on Susan’s foot with a pointed look before asking Harry to go with him to get another drink.

“You’re a lifesaver Fred,” Harry said appreciatively.

“Well I’m no Boy-Who-Lived, but I like to think I’d make quite the dashing hero,” Fred winked. “Water or butterbeer?”

Harry eyed the options before rolling his eyes at Fred. “Firewhisky is fine,” he said.

“If you get drunk and pass out again, I’m leaving you on a sofa again,” Fred warned him, passing over the requested drink.

Harry smirked and impulsively leaned up to kiss Fred. “You wouldn’t,” he said confidently.

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” Fred agreed. “But if we get caught by a teacher again, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” Harry laughed.

Despite Harry’s cocky confidence that they wouldn’t be busted by a teacher this time, they were.

It had taken a few hours, as it was well past midnight at that point, and Harry was very drunkenly trying to explain wandless magic to a group of giggling fourth year girls (much to the annoyance of Fred, who was glaring the girls down) when the Hidden Room door was thrown open and the music and conversations abruptly fell immediately silent.

“What is the meaning of this?” Umbridge thundered, looking around at the students with her chest puffed out indignantly.

Nobody said anything, nobody even dared to breathe. Harry was considering how furious Snape was going to be to find out Harry had attended yet another alcohol fueled party on Hogwarts grounds.

Maybe it won’t be so bad since I’m not high and half-dressed, he thought with a hopeful naivety brought on by his drunkenness.

“Surprise!” Susan suddenly yelled, drawing Umbridge’s beady eyes to her.

Harry picked up on Susan’s idea quickly. “Look!” he pointed at the banner on the back wall. “We’re cel’bratin’ your promotion Headmistress!”

“‘Rest in pieces Dumbledore,’” Umbridge looked as if she were torn between fury and glee as she read the banner.

Theo, Hermione, and Luna were hastily asking the room for hidden exits, shuffling as many students out of the tiny dark tunnels as they could while Umbridge was distracted by Harry and Susan. Neville and George subtly tossed Harry’s cloak over the drink table, attempting to hide the alcohol that was not only ‘disallowed’ in school, but was actually illegal.

“So you thought that a party during curfew hours was the best way to honor my position?” Umbridge said, taking a step closer to Harry.

“Is it past curfew?” Susan asked, her eyes going wide in surprise as she placed herself between her best friend and the Headmistress. “We had no idea, ma’am. This silly room doesn’t provide us with a clock.”

Umbridge didn’t look impressed by Susan’s answer, so Harry shrugged carelessly and offered Umbridge a lazy smile. “We got a bit carried away with our cel’bration, suppose we’ll head to bed now. Thanks for bein’ so understanding, ‘m sure Dumbledore would’ve been a dick about it, yeah? Not you though, I’ll tell Cor- Corn- Fudge how brill you’ve been.”

Harry was pleased when Susan and Fred got on either side of him, as he wasn’t actually as steady on his own two feet as he wanted to be. The other students, taking their cue from Harry, began slipping out past the Headmistress in large groups, eager to escape without punishment.

And everything would have been fine. Probably. Since Umbridge looked truly torn on if she was going to punish them or not with the threat of Harry writing her boss hanging over her head, he was pretty sure everyone was about to escape without so much as losing a single point.

But then Umbridge had to go and open her mouth before Harry, Fred, and Susan had made it out the door.

“Lovegood!” she barked at Luna, who was assisting one of the younger Ravenclaw boys to the door. “Get to bed! You stupid girl.”

And even in his fairly inebriated state, Harry knew from the look that he shared with Susan that Umbridge had made her first mistake as Headmistress.

Because no one insulted their friends, especially not Luna. And especially not in an effort to seem in control of a situation that they had already manipulated to suit their current needs.

”Bit uncalled for,” Fred murmured with a frown as they watched Luna run to catch up with Hermione with the younger Ravenclaw boy in tow.

Harry nodded vehemently. “We made her look st-stupid, so she insulted Lue.”

It wasn’t something that Harry himself wouldn’t have done, it was just Umbridge calling Luna a stupid girl was absolutely unforgivable. Especially as Luna’s soft and kind eyes had seemed hurt when the other students still in the room sniggered quietly.

“As soon as you’re sober, we start planning,” Susan hissed as she deposited Harry and Fred at the Slytherin common room entrance.

“Aye, aye, captain.” Fred gave Susan a sloppy salute before sighing down at Harry, who was slowly sliding to the floor. “Don’t suppose you’d help me drag him to his bed?” he asked hopefully.

Susan just laughed as she pranced away, that was 100% Fred’s problem, she had a poltergeist to find.

If someone had asked Harry a week ago if Fred and Susan would ever be friends, he would have laughed and sent them to the Hospital Wing to be examined for a head injury.

But that was before Umbridge publicly made Susan Bones and Harry Potter her unknowing enemies.

It started simply enough. Harmless graffiti and stink pellets flung at Umbridge’s back at every turn courtesy of Peeves, who had apparently bonded with Susan back in her second year.

Harry and Susan took shifts beneath his cloak to follow her around and charm her hair a sparkling pink.

Then it escalated a bit as Fred and George decided to prove that they were better pranksters than Harry and Susan were.

The two of them set about the castle getting most of the portraits to agree to belch loudly every time that Umbridge passed them— which had driven Umbridge to actually rip a painting of an old warlock off the wall and chuck it down the staircase.

Susan grinned at Fred when they witnessed this fit of rage and mouthed ‘game on’.

Harry was bemused as Susan gave him specific instructions that night, but he obediently repeated them to the tiny army of snakes that they conjured.

”Find the woman that looks like a toad,” he hissed at the snakes. ”Don’t let her sleep.”

Umbridge had looked both exhausted and terrified as she twitched at every hiss Harry subtly made near her the next day. Umbridge had given Harry a look of suspicion, but he just smiled blandly and congratulated her once more on her promotion.

Fred and George levitated nifflers in to the Defense Classroom, smiling in satisfaction at the utter destruction.

Theo and Hermione had to step in as Harry questioned if the Skrewts were still in the Forbidden Forest and what the likelihood of them doing him another favor was.

The war between the twins and Harry and Susan, with Umbridge as the sole target of their rages, continued to the point that the other inhabitants of the castle were no longer phased by the oddities that surrounded them.

Professor Flitwick patiently taught all his students the Bubblehead Charm when a swamp Fred and George designed filled the defense corridor with horrible smells.

Professor Sprout cheerfully showcased how to keep bowtruckles from destroying the students’ belongings when an infestation of them were set loose in the castle.

Tonks had elevated herself in Harry and Susan’s eyes when she spent a good part of her day strutting around, disguised like Umbridge, declaring her romantic love for Dumbledore.

Apparently it had been George’s idea, but Harry quickly reminded Tonks that she was his cousin and couldn’t be helping the competition out-prank him.

Even McGonagall seemed indifferent to the utter chaos of Hogwarts. At one point, early on in the war, she sighed wistfully and mentioned to Harry that it sure was a shame that Sirius and Remus weren’t here, as she was certain they would have some brilliant ideas on how to prank someone. Then, in a moment that Harry still isn’t sure if he imagined or not, McGonagall patted Harry on the cheek fondly and gave Slytherin twenty points because ‘his hair was brushed neatly’. Which, Draco was quick to point out as soon as McGonagall walked away, it absolutely was not.

Snape had curled his lip at the book Sirius sent Harry, ‘The Marauders Guide to Marauding’, but Harry had casually mentioned how Umbridge insulted Luna, probably hurting her feelings, and suddenly Snape was much more amendable to looking the other way. In fact, he had even supplied Harry with the ingredients he needed for Marauders Prank #412: Uncloggable Toilets.

Harry wasn’t sure if Sirius and Lupin expected the book back or not, but as he read over the various notes signed with ‘JP’, he decided that he was absolutely keeping it forever.

But all of that was before Susan learned that Fred and George’s joke shop pranks were the perfect piece to her puzzle of revenge that she needed.

“How did you come up with this?” she asked happily as the four of them watched animal shaped fireworks bounce off every wall in the Great Hall before breakfast one morning.

“We just thought of what could cause the most chaos in a confined space—“

“Essentially tried to make a magical version of Harry.“

“—and wound up with these,” George said with a proud smile. “Let’s slip out so they don’t escape until breakfast.”

It was worth waking up before the sun had risen to see Umbridge’s already harried expression get that much more exasperated when the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open and fireworks exploded in her face before careening down the corridors.

Umbridge didn’t scream, but she looked close to it.

“When I find out who is behind this, there will be consequences,” she hissed to the surrounding group of giggling students.

“I imagine it was someone rather stupid, ma’am,” Susan said with a polite smile. “Excuse us.” She kept her arm secured tightly over Luna’s shoulder as she made her way past Umbridge, Harry and the others following behind her.

“You lot are terrifying,” Neville said admirably once they were all seated in their usual place.

“That’s nothing,” Susan said. “Wait until you see what Harry’s done to her office.”

“You reckon you guys can get her to quit?” Ron asked quietly as Umbridge was raging at the other professors to ‘handle the situation’.

As if any one of the professors had the ability to control the level of reckless and absolute chaos that the Weasley Twins, Susan Bones, and Harry Potter were unleashing on the Headmistress.

Minerva was privately quite pleased with it all. She had once had a nightmare imagining what terrible mischief the son of the mischievous James Potter, godson of the charming Sirius Black, and child of the cunning Severus Snape could do when partnered with the brilliant Frederick Weasley. This transcended all her worst imaginings, but certainly in the most entertaining way possible.

She imagined that James was smiling down from the heavens at his son just as Severus smirked with approval at each new level of unlocked chaos.

“One week of pranks won’t get that toad to give up her power,” Hermione said with a dark look up at the Head Table on her typically friendly face.

“Two weeks then?” Fred asked casually.

Luna hummed and plucked a stray bit of ember out of Harry’s hair. “She’ll be gone within a month,” she said confidently.

It was a pleasant thought, one that brought Harry almost as much joy as did Umbridge’s fury during their defense lesson that day.

“Whatever student vandalized my office is going to sorely, sorely, regret it,” she yelled at them all.

The exhausted bags under her eyes undercut her fury quite a bit, in Harry’s opinion.

“Oh no, what happened Headmistress?” Blaise asked in a way that sounded almost concerned if you didn’t know him well enough.

“Nevermind that,” Umbridge snapped. “Open your textbooks to page 310 and start reading.”

Harry scrawled a quick note to Blaise, sliding it surreptitiously beneath the desk to him.

Blaise had to fight down a laugh as he read Harry’s note.

Replaced all her kitten pictures with toads.

Chapter Text

Tuesday February 10

“Good morning children.”

“Good morning Headmistress Umbridge,” the class echoed back obediently.

“We will be on chapter twenty today, there will be no need to talk,” Umbridge said with a sweet smile that nobody was fooled by.

“Yes Headmistress,” they said.

Trent unhappily got his book out and put it on his desk. He shared a pouting frown with his desk mate, Sapphire, a nice Gryffindor girl in his year. They both agreed that Umbridge’s class was absolutely the worst.

Trent wished that Harry would teach his defense class, he would be able to teach them loads more than mean old Umbridge. He’d whispered that to Sapphire once though and she stuck her tongue out, apparently she didn’t like Harry, which was the dumbest thing Trent ever heard. If he could grow up and be anyone he wanted, he would be Harry.

Sometimes, he told the gullible first years that they were cousins. They looked a little bit alike, with their black hair and green eyes. And Trent had even bought glasses just like his, except he wasn’t allowed to wear them in the summers because it made his mum mad.

’You don’t need glasses, you idiot!’ she’d yell.

It was easier if he just didn’t wear them, even if he really loved them. His mum had been really stressed out ever since he first got his Hogwarts letter and his dad left them. At first, his mom said it wasn’t his fault his dad left, ‘he’s just a bad egg’, she’d say. ‘We don’t need him’. But this last summer she would drink after work every day and cry and scream and ask Trent why he’d ruined her life.

Trent spent a lot of this last summer with his muggle friends once he realized that his mum didn’t want to hear anything about his life. Not even when he tried to tell her about Harry Potter slaying a dragon with a sword. She’d just glared at him and told him that Hogwarts sounded freakish and how magic ‘went against the word of the Lord’. It had kind of sounded like she thought he was freakish and went against the ‘word of the Lord’ (whatever that meant), but he didn’t want to start another row with her so he just kept quiet.

He didn’t bother trying to tell her how great Hogwarts was, how it felt more like home than their little apartment in the city did anymore. It still felt like home to him, even if home was now filled with belching portraits, swamps, and dragon shaped fireworks that multiplied when you tried vanishing them.

Coming back to Hogwarts this year had been the best thing ever. First off, he got to be Harry’s second in a duel, which was probably the scariest thing he’d ever done in his life. Then, Professor Flitwick said that he ‘was a natural’ in charms in just his second class back. And then, he got to ride Harry Potter’s broomstick for quidditch tryouts and even got a spot on the team.

And reserve seeker was just as important as any other spot. That’s what Harry told him and that’s what Trent told the other kids in his year who laughed at his position.

But then, best of all, when Professor Snape asked why he didn’t have any of his summer homework done, Trent quietly explained after class that his parents were muggles. He felt terrible when he admitted that his mum wouldn’t even take him to Diagon Alley for new supplies this year, insisting that it was enough that she even let him go to such an unnatural school. Even when he tried to tell him how upset his mum got when he brought up magic, Professor Snape didn’t get mad, he gave him an extension on his essay and invited him to have tea with him! And everyone knew that Professor Snape didn’t usually like students, so if he was inviting Trent to have tea then clearly Trent had done something to impress him.

They’d spent a whole hour together having tea and biscuits and just talking. Professor Snape was a great listener, always asking questions about what his life was like and listening patiently while he talked. Trent told him about his dad leaving, and all the stress his mum was under, how his mum didn’t like him anymore now that he was a wizard, and how sad his house was now.

Trent had left Professor Snape’s office with his bag filled with nice secondhand versions of the books he needed for this year, a pocketful of biscuits, and a weight off his chest from getting the chance to share all of that with someone.

If Umbridge was more like Professor Snape, she’d probably be more likable. But she was the worst teacher here, everyone said so. In fact, Harry told him that Umbridge wasn’t even a real teacher, that he thought she was just a fraud who didn’t know how to even use magic. Which made a lot of sense, seeing as Trent personally saw Umbridge running from a niffler who wanted the rings on her fingers instead of just levitating it away from her.

Trent peeked up at Umbridge, shifting around in the uncomfortable seat awkwardly as he did. He’d never be brave enough to tell her that she was a fraud, but it made him feel better to just think about it.

He sighed and tried to focus on reading the textbook in front of him, but just like his legs didn’t want to sit still, neither did his brain. He didn’t understand why this class had to be sooo boring. He looked over at Sapphire and saw she was reading and making little notes on what she read, like the good student she was.

He wished he could be a good student like her. But he didn’t think defense was ever going to be a class he liked, definitely not while Umbridge taught it anyway. One of the older Slytherin’s told him not to worry, that she wouldn’t last the year, that Harry would get rid of her like he did all the other defense professors, but Trent didn’t want to get his hopes up.

He shifted around uneasily again, thinking about how great it would be to just get to go outside and fly with his team. He couldn’t wait for winter to break so they could get back to training and flying.

“Is there a problem Mister Bailey?”

Oops.

Trent glanced up at Umbridge before lowering his eyes back to his desk. “No ma’am.”

“Then would you care to explain why you are not sitting quietly as I instructed you to?”

“But I’m not talking!” Trent cried indignantly. “Ma’am,” he hastily added at her unimpressed look.

Umbridge’s smile was not nice, not like Professor Sprout’s kind smile or Professor McGonagall’s little one when you did something especially right in her class. Umbridge looked just like a toad getting ready to eat a fly when she smiled, and Trent really didn’t want to be the fly in this case.

“You are being disruptive with your constant movements,” she said with that nasty smile.

Sometimes Trent thought it was weird that she didn’t croak like a toad. She kind of looked like she should.

“And that is just as forbidden as talking.”

Trent looked over at Sapphire, who shook her head just a little.

“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly.

Umbridge didn’t say anything else, but Trent could feel her eyes on him while he tried to read. Her eyes felt like they were drilling a hole right to the middle of his brain, making him want to move around that much more.

“Mister Bailey!” Umbridge smacked her wand on her desk a few minutes later, causing all the students to jump a little in their seats. “I have told you to stop moving!”

“He can’t help it,” Sapphire said hotly, her blue eyes narrowed and angry. “He’s bored! We’re all bored!”

Trent shrunk down in his seat a bit. Sapphire was one of his best friends, even if the older kids said Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s weren’t supposed to be best friends, but Umbridge looked really mad now.

Everyone else looked either shocked or like they were trying not to laugh.

It was pretty obvious which ones were Slytherin’s and which were the Gryffindor’s.

“Detention Miss Beasley,” Umbridge said with an even bigger smile, showing off her weird little pointy teeth. “And you as well Mister Bailey.”

“For what?” Trent asked, shocked. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Refusal to follow directions,” Umbridge said sternly. “Tonight, at seven.”

Trent tried really hard to not be angry at Sapphire, even though he kind of thought this was entirely her fault, but he was supposed to meet with Professor Snape tonight, like he had done every month since coming back to Hogwarts, and now he’d have to tell him he’d gotten detention instead.

Trent had never had detention before. He really hoped they didn’t send him mum a letter about it, she’d be really mad then.

The rest of the class seemed to pass really slowly as Trent did his best to not move too much, not even inhaling too deeply in case it made his shoulders shift. But he did leap to his feet in relief when the bell finally signaled the end of the hour.

Thank goodness it’s Tuesday, he thought happily. He only had defense on Monday’s and Tuesday’s, which meant that after detention tonight he’d be free of Umbridge for almost a whole week. He was so cheered by this fact that when Sapphire caught up to him to apologize, he decided he wasn’t even going to be mad at her.

He did brush off her invite to go play Gobstones with some of the other second years though, he had to go tell Professor Snape that he wasn’t going to make it to their meeting tonight. Trent thought this might be an even worse punishment than detention; he hated to think that Professor Snape was going to be disappointed in him or that they wouldn’t get their usual time to chat.

Trent’s head was low as he scuffed his trainers on the stone floors and waited for the students to filter out of Professor Snape’s classroom. He did look up though when he heard Harry talking to his friend Blaise.

“Hi Harry!” he said, waving quickly.

Stupid, he groaned in his head. ’Hi Harry’? You couldn’t think of anything cooler to say?

Harry didn’t seem to think he sounded stupid though, he just gave him a nice smile. “Hey Trent, what’s new?”

Trent tried very, very, hard not to puff up proudly that Harry Potter stopped in the hallway, holding up all his friends, just to talk to him.

“I got detention,” Trent scowled.

“With Snape?” Harry raised his brows up high.

“No.” Trent kicked the floor a little more. “Umbridge,” he muttered.

“Pft,” Harry scoffed and patted him on the shoulder. “She’s a fuckin prat, isn’t she? You’ll probably do lines or something. Just let me know if she does or says anything awful, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Trent gave him a huge smile. “Thanks Harry.”

“No problem, see ya.”

Trent was still grinning after Harry when Professor Snape came out in the corridor and cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” he asked, looking down his hooked nose at Trent.

“Professor I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight,” Trent mumbled, shame washing over him once more, making his cheeks heat up. “I- I got a detention.”

“I see.” Professor Snape didn’t sound mad, so Trent looked up at him. His face was calm, his eyes steady as he stared down in Trent’s. “With which teacher?”

“Umbridge, sir,” Trent told him. “It’s at seven tonight.”

“And do you feel as if you earned this detention?”

Trent almost shrugged his shoulders before he remembered that Professor Snape liked answers to be out loud. “I guess so, sir.”

“Very well,” Professor Snape nodded down at him. “Perhaps we will move our teatime to next Tuesday?”

“Really?” Trent hasn’t expected that, he thought he’d have to wait a whole month before they met again. “That would be brill sir, thank you!”

“You may repay me by never saying ‘brill’ again,” Professor Snape said in a voice like he was a bit tired. “Harry is a terrible influence on the youth of today.”

“Yes sir,” Trent grinned, pretty sure that Professor Snape was just joking. Another thing that made Trent feel like Professor Snape was the best Professor in the school— he didn’t make jokes very much, and he never actually made fun of people, but when he did make jokes they were that much more special because they were so rare.

“Run along and finish your homework before your detention,” the Professor said. “And kindly remember to bring that list on Tuesday that I requested.”

“Yes sir, thank you!” Trent ran off as instructed, his relief not even dimmed by the reminder of the list he was supposed to make. A list that he had tried to write, and was so far completely blank. He hadn’t been sure why Professor Snape wanted a list of all his family members, but as far as Trent knew it was only him and his parents. Well, really just his mom, he hadn’t seen his Dad since the day he got his letter. All his grandparents died before he was two, and he didn’t have any aunts or uncles that he knew of.

And he definitely wasn’t going to send him mum an owl double checking, she’d lose her mind.

Trent met up with Sapphire outside Umbridge’s classroom door right at 6:55.

“Ready for the most boring detention ever?” she whispered.

Trent just rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. He waited until Umbridge told them to come in before he opened it and stepped inside.

“Sit,” Umbridge pointed at two desks side by side immediately without even saying ‘hello’.

She really has no manners at all, he thought.

Trent quickly moved to one of the desks, Sapphire moving just a little more slowly behind him. He looked at the desk and felt better to see that there was just a quill and parchment, probably for lines, just like Harry had told him.

“You both will be writing lines for me,” Umbridge said with another of her gross smiles. “Miss Beasley, you will be writing ‘I will not talk back’, and Mister Bailey you will write ‘I will sit still’. Do you both understand?”

“Yes Headmistress,” they said simultaneously.

“How many times ma’am?” Sapphire asked, her hand raised just like Umbridge liked them to do in class.

“Oh as many times as it takes for the message to sink in I think,” Umbridge said.

Which Trent thought probably meant a million times because Umbridge was the worst teacher they’d ever had.

“Ma’am,” Trent raised his hand as well after looking down at his desk again. “May I borrow some ink? I didn’t know I was supposed to bring any.”

“You won’t be needing ink,” Umbridge said. “Write.”

Trent and Sapphire exchanged a confused little glance, but both started their lines.

Trent was starting his second red inked line when his right hand started aching bad. He gasped when he looked at it, it was bleeding! He squinted through his clear lenses and almost gasped again, it wasn’t just bleeding for no reason, it was being cut open with the exact words he was writing.

‘I will sit still’.

“Problem Mister Bailey?” Umbridge asked once she noticed his quill stopped moving.

Trent’s eyes were probably as wide around as dinner plates as he looked from the parchment (was that his blood as ink?!) to his hand to Umbridge.

“N-no ma’am,” he stammered. He sneaked a quick look over at Sapphire and saw her face was pale and her not-bleeding hand was shaking.

“Get back to writing then,” Umbridge demanded of them.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered. Trent swallowed harshly before he put the black feathered quill back on the parchment. He really, reallyyy, didn’t want to do these lines. In fact, he was pretty sure that even the Headmistress of a school wasn’t allowed to make him cut his hand and write in his blood as a punishment, but he couldn’t start yelling about the injustice of it now. He had to bite his tongue, bide his time. Be subtle, like a Slytherin.

It was hard to remember he was a Slytherin though, especially when he was on his twentieth line and his hand hurt so bad it was making tears pool in his eyes.

Be tough, he coached himself firmly. Just finish this detention then tell someone.

Trent was on the ‘sit’ part of his thirty-second line when Umbridge finally did a little cough and told them to come up to the desk.

“Hands,” she said shortly, holding her own stubby like hands out. Trent slowly placed his bleeding hand in hers and held back a hiss as she twisted it back and forth, almost like she was seeing how deeply he’d been cut. She did the same thing to Sapphire before dropping her hand.

“Well, children, do you believe you have learned your lesson?” she asked in what was probably supposed to sound like a sweet little voice.

“Yes ma’am,” Trent said quickly. Sapphire echoed him, but she sounded like she was speaking through a clenched jaw.

Umbridge looked up at Trent, her dark and beady eyes making him want to squirm away just to avoid her gaze. “You deserved this, you know that right?” she said softly. “The both of you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Trent said again, desperate to get out of the classroom.

“Good boy,” Umbridge said.

Trent thought that his skin might have turned in to a million ants the way it was trying to crawl right off him.

“You’re dismissed,” she said. “Have a good night.”

“Good night Headmistress Umbridge,” Trent said quickly.

He felt like he wasn’t breathing properly until he made it to the corridor. He sprinted away from Umbridge’s classroom, as quickly as he could, with Sapphire’s echoing footsteps following behind him.

“Are you okay?” Sapphire asked when Trent finally felt far enough away to stop and take slow breaths.

“No!” he cried. “My hand! Your hand! She- I- that’s not brill at all!”

“I know.” Sapphire’s eyes went clouded, like a storm was washing away the sky blue coloring. “I heard some of the other students in my common room talking about her dark quill, but I didn’t believe them.”

“It can’t be allowed, not even for the Headmistress, can it?”

“Oh it’s definitely not,” Sapphire tossed her light brown hair over the shoulder, only wincing a little when she accidentally used her hurt hand. “One of the Ravenclaw’s looked it up, and dark quills are illegal to use on students.”

“Good.” Trent straightened himself up and stared down at his hand, his hand that would probably forever be a reminder that he had a hard time sitting still. “Then I’m telling someone.”

“Oh no you are not!” Sapphire said sternly. “We aren’t going to go crying about it, then nothing will happen anyway and we’ll just be in more trouble later.”

“Not if I tell Harry,” Trent said with confidence. “He’ll do something. He always does. Everyone says he hates Umbridge, he just pretends to be nice because of politics or something. In fact, Jasmine said that she thinks Harry and Fred are the ones pranking her.”

An idea that only elevated Harry and his boyfriend in Trent’s opinion.

“Harry Potter is not going to care about our hands,” Sapphire rolled her eyes. “He’s not a hero Trent, he’s mean and rude and scary.”

“We’ll see,” Trent scoffed. He knew loads of people thought Harry was mean and scary, and he was just a little bit, especially when he was dueling and teaching them how to punch properly and throw knives at opponents. But since Harry had never actually been mean to him, Trent thought Harry was probably secretly really nice, like Professor Snape.

“Well leave my name out of it,” Sapphire told him. “I don’t want to be that toads target when Potter just makes her angrier.”

Trent agreed, and they set up a time this week to get their friends together to play gobstones before splitting up and heading to their different common rooms.

Sapphire was funny, and usually smart, and a great friend. But she was also a Gryffindor and thought that ‘suffering in silence’ was somehow brave.

Trent was a Slytherin, and he knew that self-preservation was important to his house. And it was self-preservation that led him to go to find Harry— if anyone could keep Trent, or any of the other students, from having to cut their hands open as a punishment ever again, it would be Harry Potter.

Chapter Text

Tuesday February 10

“If you don’t go to Flitwick then I’m getting Professor Snape.” Theo was fuming. “Hermione I swear to Merlin, she can’t get away with this shit.”

“It’s fine.” Hermione was cuddled to his side on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, her injured hand cradled to her chest. “I’m not going to go complaining, that’s what she wants!”

“I don’t give a damn about what she wants,” Theo hissed. “I care about you, and your safety, and this— babe this is sadistic!”

“It’s just because she’s Headmistress now,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “She thinks she can get away with absurd punishments for the most ridiculous reasons. Plus I think she holds me responsible for the beetles in her quarters, she’s lost her sanity Theo.”

“Having you carve ‘know it all’ if your hand is more than an ‘absurd punishment’, it’s inhumane! I don’t care if you spit in her face, she can’t do this!” Theo had never been so disgusted and furious in his life. Umbridge was a sick person. Even his father had never used such a dark tool on him. Hell, even Harry would probably never use something like that on someone. Theo carefully pushed Hermione off him and got to his feet. “I’m getting Snape. He’ll put a stop to this.”

“Theo, don’t!”

Theo loved Hermione more than anything in the world. He would do anything for her.

But she was being an idiot for refusing to get a teacher. She was stubbornly trying to prove a point that Theo didn’t really care to prove right now. Not at her expense. He knew that Professor Snape wouldn’t stand for any of the students in the castle to be tortured and abused. And Theo certainly wasn’t going to let Hermione be permanently branded by some foul woman on a power trip, not if he could do something about it.

Hermione could be self-righteously stubborn some other time.

Before he could reach the portrait door, it slammed open and the common room went dead silent as Harry pulled Bailey in the room by his wrist.

Harry was absolutely enraged, that much was easy for every person in the common room to see. His eyes were flashing with the kind of cold anger that Theo didn’t think he’d ever actually seen from him before. Even the temperature in the room lowered, a chill sweeping over everyone, just from Harry’s fury alone.

The rumors that Harry was the next Dark Lord were never so validated as they were when even Harry’s jet black hair seemed to be crackling with indignation and rage fueled power.

It was somehow both terribly interesting and absolutely terrifying.

Despite Harry’s obvious fury as he stormed in the room, Theo could see that he had it wrong before. Harry wasn’t pulling Bailey, he was leading the kid along by his wrist.

...his bloody wrist.

Bailey looked equal parts scared, upset, and completely in awe. Which was just the type of mad reaction that Theo expects from the kid that everyone had nicknamed ‘Potter Junior’.

“Theo!” Harry took notice of Theo halfway to where he was, Hermione right behind him. “Here, take Trent to fix his hand. I’ve got something to do.”

Harry gave Bailey a soft push towards Theo, and Theo was able to see that he’d been wrong in his initial analysis twice now— Bailey wasn’t bleeding from the wrist. He was bleeding from the back of his hand.

Harry hissed something in Parsletongue, apparently too angry for English, and Theo flinched when he saw Harry’s gun flying toward him from the boys dorm.

How had he not noticed that Harry brought that mad thing with him?!

“Mione, take Bailey to your common room, heal his hand up, and stay there,” Theo murmured hastily. “Love you.”

Hermione didn’t ask any questions, she just grabbed Bailey’s uninjured hand and gave Harry a wide berth on her way out the door.

“Harry— stop.” Theo didn’t grab Harry’s arm, he wasn’t stupid, but he did walk up close to him, which carried the potential to be just as stupid. Getting physically close to Harry when he was manipulating the magic in the air with just his emotions was potentially fatal. “What are you doing with that?”

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” Harry snarled. “I’m done with the stupid little pranks and games. She cut his hand open Theo. CUT. HIS. HAND. OPEN.”

Theo glanced around uneasily at the blatantly eavesdropping students and put up a quick privacy charm.

No need for everyone to listen to Harry plotting the murder of who he was sure was their Headmistress.

“Umbridge?”

“Yes, fuckin Umbridge,” Harry spat.

Theo never really noticed it before now, but Harry’s eyes were the exact same color as the killing curse that Moody-Crouch showed them last year.

“You can’t just go shoot the damn Headmistress,” he hissed at Harry, ignoring the way that literal death shone from his eyes. “Are you trying to get locked up?!”

“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled. “SHE CUT TRENT’S FUCKING HAND OPEN THEO! MADE HIM DO IT! TOLD HIM HE DESERVED IT! You know what he did wrong? What he had the fuckin audacity to do?”

It was a bad time to notice it, but Theo was relieved that Harry finally learned the proper use of the word ‘audacity’. He’d once confused it with the word ‘capacity’ and Theo and Hermione nearly stroked out.

“Not sitting still in class, that’s what,” Harry said. “HE’S TWELVE! KIDS DON’T DESERVE TO BE HURT THEO! HE. DID. NOT. DESERVE. THAT!”

Theo could see through Harry’s rage to notice his trembling hands and the shadows in the back of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure if Harry was talking about Trent Bailey at all anymore.

“And killing Umbridge will help?” Theo asked, trying to force Harry to calm down by using a soothing tone. It really was no good arguing with Harry when he was like this, but he tried anyway. “Or will it just get you locked up? You aren’t thinking straight, Harry. Are you- are you flying?” He doubted it even as he latched on to a possible excuse for Harry’s impulsive decision to shoot the bloody Headmistress. Manic Harry was much more chatty, less clipped sentences and more nonsensical rants.

“Fuck you,” Harry sneered, his features twisting in to something cold and unearthly. “I’m not flying. I’m not manic. I’m fine. And she’s dying Theo. If there’s one student, then there are more. And nobody deserves that. She’s dying to-fucking-night.”

Theo prayed to any magical deity that was listening that Harry was as honorable to his own codes as Theo always thought he was. “My favor!” he cried. “I’m using my favor you owe me on you not shooting Umbridge.”

Harry twirled the gun in his hand and studied Theo with the coldest look he’d ever gotten from the guy that he considers to be his only brother.

Please Mother Magic, don’t let him shoot me...

again.

Theo really had a lot to live for.

“She dies tonight,” Harry finally said in a harsh hiss. He pocketed the gun (thank Merlin) and some of the overwhelming cold air in the room lightened. “If you wanna use your favor on me not shooting her, fine. But I’m going to go fuckin kill her. She cut Trent open Theo. Made him use a quill that carved ‘I will sit still’ on the back of his hand. He’s going to have that scar forever. Every time he sees that scar, he’s going to think about what she did to him. What kind of sick person fuckin does that?!”

“Someone disgusting,” Theo agreed vehemently, subtly eyeing Harry’s many scars.

He knew there were more hidden beneath his clothes as well too, bad ones. It was hard to share a room for as long as they had now without occasionally spotting each other partially dressed, much as Harry tried to prevent it.

“She dies now. I swear Harry, we’ll kill her. But let’s do it the right way. The smart and subtle way that doesn’t send us to prison.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, looking like a curious child now with his pursued lips and his eyes flashing brightly behind his glasses. He studied Theo for a long enough moment that Theo began sweating beneath his arms.

“‘We’ll kill her’? We?” Harry repeated softly.

Not softly like how he talks to Luna and Sevvie.

But softly like how a snake slithers across the grass quietly right before it sinks its venomous fangs in your neck.

Theo hadn’t actually meant to say we.

Or maybe he had.

Theo knew Harry was deadly. Harry had actually killed people before then popped home and ate breakfast. Harry thought that murder was justifiable if it was for revenge or to protect himself.

Not Theo. Theo kept himself safe by making himself a lesser target.

He wasn’t dark. He wasn’t evil.

Not like his father.

But was Harry truly dark? Truly and irredeemably evil?

Was Theo a better person than Harry?

In his heart, in his soul, was he any better than Harry?

Or did he just make himself believe that because he would never have had the bravery before now to risk so much?

Harry risks everything, every day. He walks through Hogwarts knowing people fear him, hate him. Harry does what he wants even though he knows that he has powerful enemies who would do anything to see him dead. And Harry still keeps his head high, leads their gang through battles, stands alongside them as if they were on the same level as him.

Could Theo be like that?

Theo was standing on a precipitous edge of no turning back, no cleaning himself from the submergence in to the dark and murky waters that Harry happily drowns in.

No desire to keep himself from drowning alongside him.

Theo held Harry’s gaze evenly, his hands in tight fists at his side as he came to a decision. Harry’s eyes suddenly flashed with an entirely new level of anger—

Theo never wanted to see Harry so angry again. He didn’t know how Dumbledore and Timmy decided to make Harry their enemy, but he was sure if they saw Harry right now that they would rethink it.

A girl screamed as a candelabra hanging on the wall behind Harry flared up in a huge flame before it exploded in a thousand pieces. The stone ceiling above their heads split and rained down pebbles and debris that Harry easily sent flying in a different direction with a twitch of his pinky.

“You or Mione?” Harry’s jaw was clenched, the words he grit out nearly incomprehensible.

“Hermione,” Theo admitted, his blood racing with anger, adrenaline, and not a little bit of fear. Harry killed a basilisk with a sword when it petrified Hermione a few years ago.

Dolores Umbridge shouldn’t be too comfortable right now.

Harry’s hand flinched towards his pocket, as if aching to go and put a metal bullet in the hateful witches head.

If Theo wasn’t almost positive Harry would be arrested within a day for it, he would stand aside. But if Harry wasn’t going to watch out for himself, then Theo had to do it.

It was fair. Harry watched out for Theo and the others all the time.

He just never watched out for himself.

Theo thought that Harry might have been busy surviving vicious muggles when the self-preservation part of his brain had been developing.

“What possible mother fucking reason could she have to punish Hermione?”

If Theo wasn’t so furious, so filled with hate for Umbridge and all that she stood for, it would almost be amusing to share Hermione’s sin.

“Hermione corrected her in class,” he said. His legs were trembling as he considered it.

Hermione.

His sweet, beautiful, thoughtful, brilliant, lively girlfriend. The witch who accepted Theo despite who his father was, what his fathers beliefs were. The one who drug him from sinking in his depression with reminders of a future so bright and so happy that he couldn’t even imagine. Hermione having her hand sadistically sliced open for the crime of correcting a teacher in an effort to help her peers.

Theo had thought he went temporarily blind with rage when Hermione first told him. He wanted to kill Umbridge himself then and he wasn’t certain that desire was fully extinguished.

“You’ll help me?” Harry asked, somehow sensing Theo’s need for retribution.

Could he?

Would he?

Would he still be the same person tomorrow if he committed such an act today?

Would he still be just as deserving of his friends, his girlfriend, his brother, and his life if he took someone else’s?

“Yes.”

Harry put a steadying hand on Theo’s shaking shoulder and suddenly had a fierce look of love, loyalty, and protection in his eyes.

Theo hoped he wasn’t imagining that.

“Let’s hear the plan then.”

The first step of the plan was so easy it was nearly laughable.

They slipped beneath Harry’s invisibility cloak and checked the Mauraders Map. They waited until the dot labeled ‘Severus Snape’ left his quarters and went to ‘Minerva McGonagall’s Office’.

“They have tea every Tuesday and Friday,” Harry murmured. “Let’s go.”

The two of them silently slipped out in the corridor, and Theo waited outside with the map as Harry confidently said Snape’s passcode and entered his quarters.

Theo ignored the voice in his head that whispered this was dangerous, this was a bad idea, this was taking a life as an act of revenge.

In his heart, Theo knew he had committed to it the moment he accidentally said ‘we’ll kill her’. If that made him a bad person, then, well, at least he’d have his brother as a companion.

Right?

It only took a few minutes before Harry returned, the book Theo requested in hand.

“Barty wasn’t even home,” he whispered once he was back beneath the cloak. “Where to now?”

Theo opened the book Harry retrieved from Spinner’s End that he had only read once over the summer. It was an excellent book, straight from the darkest section of the Black Family Library.

“Greenhouse eight,” Theo murmured. “We need nerium.”

Harry peeked at the recipe over his shoulder and frowned. “You think Sprouts just going to hand over a bunch of poisonous flowers?”

Theo shut the book and slipped it in the empty bag he carried on his back. “I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

The two of them (partners in an actual crime) trekked their way through the dark carefully to greenhouse eight beneath the cloak. Greenhouse eight was where Sprout kept the plants that no student was allowed to touch; plants that were only to be utilized by herself, Madame Pomfrey, or Professor Snape.

“Open it,” Theo told Harry. “But don’t touch the handle, it’s got an alarm charm on it.”

Harry raised his brows up at that information. “How d’you know that?”

“Everyone knows that Harry,” Theo sighed. “It’s in Hogwarts a History.”

Harry ducked from beneath the cloak and kneeled in front of the locked door, examining the handle carefully. “I’ve literally never even touched that book,” he murmured.

“Of course you haven’t,” Theo rolled his eyes. Harry only read books that helped him in some immediate way, mostly thick volumes on the law and books with curses dark enough to get him arrested for even considering.

”Take the charm off,” Harry hissed sharply, his hand hovering over the handle. The handle glowed red before flashing silver and then the light disappearing altogether.

“Are you sure it’s off?” Theo asked.

“Can you hear the magic anymore?”

Theo didn’t even know how he was meant to respond to that.

Harry spent too much time around Luna, a sentiment Theo would not be sharing. Better to say nothing than risk irritating Harry when his rage was so barely masked.

Theo trusted Harry, cared about him, loved him. But Theo also knew a bullet in the knee hurt like hell and Harry never put that gun back in their dorm.

“C’mon.” Harry put a slow hand on the doorknob and let out a sigh when nothing obvious happened. “I think the gloves were overkill,” he whispered as they entered the greenhouse together.

“Your plan involved shooting Umbridge in her office, you don’t get to critique mine,” Theo sneered lightly. His eyes flicked around the greenhouse, wary of additional alarms or traps for thieving students. “Plus we can’t touch it with our bare skin. Can you summon it?”

“I want the nerium,” Harry demanded from his magic. He held his gloved hand out expectantly and smirked when the innocent looking pink flowers sped directly to his hand. He carefully put them in Theo’s bag. “That was easy, wasn’t it? We should do this again if Dumbledore comes back.”

“I thought you had pain and torture planned for Dumbledore,” Theo said with heavy sarcasm.

Sarcasm that went right over Harry’s head as he nodded sagely.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Let’s move before we get caught.”

It was easy though. In fact, this whole plan was so outrageously simple that Theo was beginning to wonder if it was divine intervention (did Merlin or Morgana intervene when someone was worthy of death?) or just a Harry-fucking-Potter thing.

It was no wonder that Harry’s first instinct was pain and death for his enemies. What obstacles stood in his path?

“How much longer?” Harry asked.

“I’m nearly done now.” Theo was pouring sweat from both the heat of the cauldron and the complexity of the potion (which isn’t really a potion. He knew it was a poison, a poison he was going to use on an actual person).

Theo glanced up at Harry and bit his lip nervously. “Are we... Do we need to make a vow? Like last time?”

The last time they were in this chamber, Harry had asked Theo about his boggart, his abuse. He had studied Theo with a single-minded ferocity that had been intimidating and terrifying at the time. Harry had also shared what Theo suspected was a small fragment of the abuses he himself had suffered. Harry showed him his scars, the ones he usually keeps hidden, the ones that said that at one point in his life, Harry wanted it all to be over. But Mother Magic cherished Harry so much, loved him so much, that she just healed him and gave him another chance at life.

Theo knew that a lot of people were terrified of Harry and his power. They thought he was the next Dark Lord, they thought he was a curse.

Theo knew when Harry told him that he cut his wrists open and woke up the next morning, fully healed, that Harry wasn’t just blessed by Mother Magic, he was a gift from her to Wixen.

Theo and Harry had made an Unbreakable Vow then to never share what they discussed that day in their third year. A failsafe as Harry had offered to kill Theo’s father and Theo accepted it.

“D’you want me to take a Vow?” Harry asked seriously, twirling his silver knife between his fingers.

“Do you not— do you not want me to?” Theo asked.

“Nope.” Harry gave Theo a rare smile, one that diminished the presence of the silver scar down the right side of his face as his eyes crinkled at the corners and his white teeth shone brightly against his tanned skin. “I trust you,” Harry shrugged. “We’re brothers, aren’t we?”

Theo swallowed harshly as he looked down to the potion and nodded. “Brothers,” he agreed. “Go ahead and call for Mavis.”

It was a mark of how intense the situation was that Harry didn’t actually scream for Mavis, as Theo knew he loved to do.

“Mavis!”

Pop!

“Why is Master Harry and Mister Theo in the nasty snake chamber again?” Mavis immediately wailed, pulling on his ears in distress. “Mavis is not liking them being down here!”

“Because it’s the best place to brew in secret,” Theo murmured. He made the final two stirs and then pulled the ladle out. “I’m done.”

Theo let out a long exhale of air, steadying himself as he stared down at the colorless potion.

Poison.

Odorless. Colorless. Impossible to detect and illegal to brew in every country.

An invention of Sirius Black’s ancestors, apparently.

He could vanish it right now. Pretend he’d never even considered murdering a woman.

“People shouldn’t abuse kids,” Harry said calmly, guessing accurately at Theo’s thoughts as Theo stared down in the cauldron.

He wished he could foresee his own fate in the bottom.

“People shouldn’t kill others either,” Theo said lightly, only a small quaver to his voice. Harry’s words did the trick though, Theo would never allow someone to treat any kid, especially not his Hermione, like that.

To tell a child like the excitable and eager little Trent Bailey that he deserved the abuse?

To try and quench the passion for knowledge in a brilliant young woman with physical torture?

Umbridge’s sins were much worse than the one they were about to commit.

Right?

Right?

Harry accepted the small vial with all the solemnity that the moment deserved. “Mavis, can you do me a favor? And— and I hate to say this, but just so you know, if you do this favor then I’ll have to give you an order as well.”

Mavis didn’t look put out by that, if anything that seemed to perk him up from his worries about the two of them hiding in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Mavis will be loving to do Master a favor!” he squealed. “And Master Harry is giving Mavis an order as well? Mavis is being very ready to help his wonderful Master!”

“Here.” Harry handed the vial to Mavis. “I need you to put this in Umbridge’s drink at breakfast. And I need you to do it without the other elves seeing you, can you do that?”

“Yes Mavis can!”

“And this is the order part, I’m sorry Mavis, but I order you that if anyone ever asks you about this, even if it’s me, you have to lie to them. You were never at Hogwarts today, do you understand?”

Mavis’ eager smile slid right off his face and he looked down at the vial nervously. “Mavis is not wanting to be hurting anyone... Mavis is not wanting to be mean.”

“Umbridge cut open Hermione’s hand,” Theo told him dispassionately. “She’s a monster.”

“Misses Mione?” Mavis gasped. “She is hurting my Misses Mione?”

“She did,” Harry said. “Probably loads of others too, but I’d never make you be involved in something you don’t want to be involved in.”

Mavis shook his head, his typically round yellow eyes were narrowed and angry. “Nobody is hurting my kind Misses Mione and not being revenged on. Mavis will do it Master Harry. And Mavis will be saying ‘Mavis was never here. On Tuesday? Mavis is thinking he was chasing Stevie the snake out of Mister Snoop’s office that day.’”

“Brill.” Harry smiled warmly at Mavis. “Mind popping us back up to our dorm then? I think Blaise is having a poker tournament tonight.”

Theo didn’t think he’d be able to eat a single bite of breakfast that next morning. Not when his stomach revolted with every bite when he saw Hermione’s scarred hand. But he followed Harry’s cue and forced food down while Harry kept up a stream of cheerful chatter with everyone else.

How did he do it?

Did he sleep last night?

Did Harry’s food not stick to his throat like cardboard?

Did Harry not have a conscience?

Theo couldn’t resist a quick glance up at the Head Table, just in time to see Umbridge in the Headmasters seat taking a deep drink out of her goblet.

His stomach lurched and he muttered a nonsensical excuse before bolting from the room to the nearest loo. He locked himself in a stall barely in time to start puking. Every bite he’d forced down, pointless now as he painfully expelled it.

Once he was done, he just sank to the floor, sobs working their way through his chest.

What had he done?

Was he better or worse than the monster he’d poisoned?

He’d saved her from a bullet to the head, only to end her life- send her soul for its final judgement- through a painful poison.

How would his soul be judged one day?

Theo should have been surprised when the stall door was slowly opened and Harry looked in on him, but he wasn’t. He’d known he was going to come here really. Harry gave him a curious look as he twitched his pinky and a privacy bubble was erected.

“What did we do?” Theo croaked out. “We’ve killed her Harry.”

“We did.” Harry sat in the doorway of the stall, still looking at Theo like he was a particularly challenging bit of homework. “Why are you upset?”

“We could go to prison!” Theo cried (lied). “There are laws and consequences!”

“Theo, I thought of that already,” Harry said calmly. “D’you think I’d let you go to prison?”

Truthfully? No.

Harry was a bit of a dick, he could be terribly selfish sometimes, he was impulsive and reckless and had more power than common sense.

But Harry was as loyal as they come.

Theo wasn’t worried about imprisonment, if it even got that far then Harry would just break him out and hide him away on some foreign island.

“I thought of the worse case scenario when I was flooing to Spinners End,” Harry went on despite the lack of an answer from Theo. “Absolute worst case scenario is they find out she was poisoned and someone figures out we did it. Then I’ll admit to it, say I did it alone. I’ll tell them she made me use that fuckin quill and I was so upset I wasn’t thinking right. Plus, don’t dark objects like that sometimes mess with your mind? Cause I’ve already got a messed up mind, Snape will tell them that. I’ll use all my money and fame in court to cry about being tortured and the worst that’ll happen is I’ll be expelled.”

“You don’t have any scars from the quill,” Theo pointed out, secretly quite touched that Harry would take a murder charge on his behalf, even if Harry didn’t plan on actual imprisonment. As he said, Harry was truly as loyal as they come.

“The second that aurors appear in our school talking about poison I will. I’ll go find that quill and cut myself with it,” Harry swore. “What’s really bothering you?”

What Harry lacked in detailed plans, he made up for in intuition.

“We’ve killed her Harry, she’s going to die within a day,” Theo whispered after a moment of silent contemplation. “What does that make us?”

“Heroes?” Harry suggested with a quirk of his lips.

“It isn’t funny,” Theo snarled. “What happens to us when we die Harry? Will we be banished to hell for this?”

Theo wasn’t usually religious, that had been his fathers platform of hypocrisy. Theo relied on properly cited research, knowledge, facts. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t sometimes envision a day where he’d be with his mother again.

Had he lost that? Gave it up for an act of revenge?

“Theo,” Harry’s eyes were pitying once more, “if killing someone like her would send us to hell, then I don’t want to go to heaven.”

“I do,” Theo admitted quietly. “I want to see my mother. I m-miss her so much.” Theo didn’t want to cry again, he hated crying, it was just proof of the weakness in him that his father desperately tried to remove, but his painful admission brought fresh tears down his face.

Harry didn’t say anything, he just let himself be a silent presence as Theo shivered and shuddered and cried some more.

“I’m sorry I let you be involved,” Harry eventually said when the occasional shudders were all that remained. “I didn’t know you’d feel this way. I’m sorry Theo.”

“Don’t you feel anything??” Theo asked desperately. “Anything at all for taking her life? Risking your place in the afterlife?”

“No,” Harry said flatly. “If heavens a real place then they don’t want me anyway. They never wanted me.”

“My father said anyone can repent and be accepted,” Theo said softly. “He said you just have to feel true remorse for your sins.”

Was he up there? Did he ever feel remorse for what he did?

Was taking away a childhood anywhere near the same level of a sin as murder?

“Theo do you think Umbridge is the first person I’ve killed?”

They knew it wasn’t. He knew Harry killed Lockhart, Avery Senior, his father, and everyone knew he killed Quirrell and Pettigrew.

But what he didn’t know was...

“I first killed a man when I was ten,” Harry said bluntly. “And I’ll never ‘repent’ it. I used to feel bad about it, all the time, I thought I was a monster. But you know what?”

“What?”

Harry looked to be nearly thrice his actual age when he responded. “Sometimes there are worse monsters out there.”

Chapter Text

Thursday February 12

“Deputy, Deputy! You must wake up!”

Minerva sat up quickly, grabbing her wand off her nightstand and aiming it in the direction of the ghost who just woke her.

“What’s happened?” she asked immediately, sliding her house slippers on. If it was important enough for Nicholas to wake her before the sun rose, then it was no mere student caught wandering the halls outside of curfew.

“It’s Dolores,” Sir Nicholas said urgently. “Peeves went to bother her, and... and you must come quickly.”

Minerva checked the time and saw that it was nearly four in the morning. She grabbed her black robe, pulling it on top of her sleep clothes, and fixed Nicholas with a steely gaze.

“If that woman has sent you to fetch me because of some prank, I will not refrain from killing her,” she swore.

Sir Nicholas pulled nervously on the cuff of his shirt. “That may be difficult to do, Deputy. As she is already dead.”

Hogwarts allowed Minerva admission to Dolores’ private chambers, only serving as a reinforcer to Nicholas’ words. Minerva knocked briskly on Dolores’ door before pushing it open gently, and—

Oh.

“Merlin,” Minerva breathed, her hand held tightly against her lips.

Dolores’ eyes were wide open, staring accusingly at Minerva. He mouth was also grotesquely twisted open, a scream of horror frozen forever within her.

Minerva hardly needed to reach out to verify what Nicholas told her. She called for one of the elves bustling about the castle to fetch Poppy, and crossed herself when Poppy said what she already knew.

At 4:01, Poppy shook her head and called for St Mungo’s. This wasn’t an emergency trip, this was a body removal.

At 4:35, Healer Jessabelle of St Mungo’s Magical Mysteries Department declared Dolores Umbridge, a 39 year old previously healthy witch, dead.

At 5:17, Minister Fudge arrived, demanding the autopsy results.

“See for yourself,” he handed the parchment to Minerva with a pale face and trembling hands.

Cause of Death: Heart Failure.

“Heart failure?” Minerva peered at the Healer who had ran the exam. “You’re certain?”

“I’ve done hundreds of these,” the Healer said solemnly. “It doesn’t always happen to the elderly I’m afraid. Was she under much stress recently?”

Minerva imagined the magical swamps, the exploding fireworks, the rampage of magical animals within the corridors, and the never ending snakes and sibilant hissed that have taken to haunting Dolores’ every move.

“She was,” Minerva said. She looked down at the results again, unease spreading through her chest, setting her heart aflutter. “You are absolutely certain this is the official cause of death?”

“It was just her time to go I’m afraid,” the Healer patted Minerva and Fudge on the hands before leaving them with the sheet covered body of their coworker.

Minerva was exhausted, frazzled, and not just a little perplexed.

Her father had died of heart failure, at the ripe age of 136. When he passed from this life to the next, he had been ill long enough that Minerva was able to return home before he went. And... Minerva imagined Dolores’ pain-filled and terrified face... he certainly went peacefully.

“Well...” Fudge fingered his cloak, his eyes flicking to and from Dolores’ body. “I suppose we should talk.”

By 6 o’clock, when Minerva returned to the castle, she did so as the ‘Interim Headmistress’. Her title was of no bother to her, Minerva would continue to do the job that she had always set out to do:

Teach, guide, and protect the magical children of Great Britain.

An hour later, Minerva stood in front of the students in the Great Hall, raising her hands for silence.

“I have an unpleasant announcement to share with you all,” she said, her voice carrying clearly through the now silent chamber. “At 4:35 this morning, Dolores Umbridge was pronounced dead at St Mungo’s Hospital.”

The professors lining the head table gasped in shock, and the children began...

Cheering.

They were cheering for the death of Dolores.

Merlin and Morgana.

Minerva prayed to the spirits in the sky that she never becomes so universally disliked that a room full of two hundred children would cheer for her death.

She exchanged an exhausted and exasperated look with Sir Nicholas, who was floating silently behind the Gryffindor table with a solemn expression.

“That is quite enough,” she said firmly. She waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. “Until the Minister decides on a permanent replacement, I will be fulfilling the role of Headmistress—“

“Can’t you be the permanent Headmistress?” Alicia Spinnet called from the Gryffindor table.

“That is the Ministers decision,” Minerva said curtly. “As for your class, we will procure a schedule for the professors to fill in for the defense courses. Until defense continues next week, I recommend you speak with Mister Potter in Slytherin about joining his defense club.”

Minerva had very carefully refrained from looking towards Harry and his friends, but she glanced that way now and saw precisely what she feared that she would; Harry looked incredibly smug.

“There will be no classes today, giving us professors an opportunity to discuss the Defense schedule until a replacement can be found.” And if Minerva managed to squeeze a nap in that time frame, so the better for her.

“Ma’am?” Kent Wiggins stood from his spot at the Ravenclaw table and raised his hand respectfully. “How did Umbridge die?”

“St Mungo’s believes it was stress on her heart,” Minerva repeated the official cause of the death.

“So it was Potter, Bones, and the Weasley’s,” one of Severus’ older students whispered amidst laughter and admirable looks aimed towards Harry at the Slytherin table.

It was a whisper that was quiet enough that Minerva could pretend not to hear, but not so quiet that she didn’t notice the suddenly pained expression on Severus’ face.

“If you have any troubles today, seek out a prefect or ghost for assistance,” Minerva said, sweeping her narrowed eyes across the students. “I recommend you utilize this free time to get caught up on your studies. I would also—“ she paused to look directly at Fred, George, Susan, and Harry, “—appreciate it greatly if the general disorder of the castle ceased immediately.”

George winked at her, shameless boy that he was, but Fred gave her a more respectful smile and tipped an invisible cap to her.

“Cheers to the best Headmistress in Hogwarts!” Harry stood and raised his goblet to Minerva, triggering the rest of the students to do so as well.

“Thank you,” Minerva gave the students a rare, and genuine, smile before sinking down in to her new spot at the Head Table.

As the students broke out in to loud gossip and chatter, Minerva accepted a cup of tea from Pomona.

“All professors to the staff room after breakfast,” she told the others before hastily adding, “Except for Sybill, why don’t we just let her rest?”

“Was it truly heart failure Minerva?” Filius asked the moment Minerva arrived to the fully packed staff room. The staff were all wearing various expressions of strain, though not a single appeared to be grieving Dolores.

Rightfully so.

“That is what the report said,” Minerva prevaricated.

“Reckon me bowtruckles didn’t help, aye?” Hagrid asked, a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Well it’s not as if we knew the students would kill her off with a few pranks,” Pomona said slowly. “She must have had a weak heart beforehand.”

“The students did not kill her off,” Severus snapped, glaring at Pomona from his corner seat. “If any of the students hear you say such things and thoughtlessly repeat it, it will be a full blown investigation. Think woman.”

Pomona raised her brows at Severus’ tone, but thankfully let the matter rest.

“What now Minerva?” Aurora asked seriously. “Will the Minister be sending along another lackey?”

“Unfortunately the Minister carries the hiring power currently,” Minerva said, mimicking Aurora’s look of distaste with her own. “I know,” she said. “But it is the position we find ourselves in.”

“At least Fudge put you in charge,” Filius said bracingly. “He is capable of occasionally making an intelligent decision.”

“Thank you Filius.” Minerva masked a yawn, reminding herself that she’s no spring witch prepared to face the day on no sleep. “For the upcoming few weeks, or until a replacement arrives, we will all need to step up and cover defense.”

The professors all worked for a few hours, arranging and rearranging a schedule until they were satisfied with the results. Minerva and Aurora would cover on Mondays, Severus and Filius on Tuesdays, Pomona on Wednesday mornings with Poppy taking the afternoons if she has no students in the Hospital Wing. Charity would take Thursdays, and Aurora again Friday mornings and Bathsheda Friday nights.

Rolanda and Rubeus both offered to assist when needed, though Minerva sorely hoped to have the position filled before it became a strain on the others. In a critical time such as now, the one class students could scarcely afford to lose was defense.

But, when Minerva finally made it to her quarters to rest, she could freely admit that she had worries about the position being filled.

Albus had once said that Riddle had cursed the position after he failed to secure it for himself, but Minerva hadn’t noticed a ‘curse’ on the defense professors until approximately four and a half years ago.

***

Friday morning started with an optimistic feeling in the air of the corridors. The pranks were gone, aside from vulgar graffiti that Minerva was pleased to see had at least been half-heartedly covered with paintings of flowers and creatures. The students were lively, conversation and laughter flowing much more freely.

Truly, Minerva gazed around the Great Hall that morning, you would never know a woman was murdered died of natural causes a mere twenty four hours ago within this very castle.

“Headmistress!” Harry came jogging up to her before her first class of the day began on Friday. He was dressed as impeccably as usual, his hair a messy cap above his bright face. “Have you found a replacement for Defense yet?”

“I have not,” Minerva told him. “It’s not quite the desired position it once was.”

She peered over her spectacles at James and Severus’ son—

Somewhere in the afterlife, Lily Evans Potter easily forgave Minerva for leaving her out of the description, as James’ look of utter horror was gift enough.

—and considered how the last five defense professors have all died, or been terminated in some form, after having run-ins with him.

Although Harry was present, Quirinus’ death was through his own folly, the same could be said for Gilderoy. Remus resigned once it was let loose that he was a werewolf. Alastor/Bartemius could hardly be Harry’s direct fault, as the child certainly hadn’t asked for his professor to be a Death Eater in disguise. And Dolores...

Well. The point remained that the defense post was incredibly difficult to fill lately.

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry said, his green eyes sparkling impishly. “I’ve got a friend who needs a job, I think you’d approve ma’am.”

Minerva looked down at this young man, this heavily scarred and unfailingly polite young man, and wondered not for the first time, who broke this boy? Certainly she knew that Severus had been the one to reassemble the pieces of Harry. No one could doubt he had done his best, but there were still jagged lines through Harry’s personality and behavior that revealed how broken he once was.

“Oh?” Minerva asked curiously. “And who is this unemployed friend of yours?”

“Sirius Black,” Harry said with just the kind of smile that Minerva was sure he found to be charming, which it was, in a rather roguish way. “Please ma’am, would you just give him an interview? He doesn’t even hate Slytherin’s anymore, I swear.”

Minerva had to admit, it was a decent suggestion. Sirius would probably be a wonderful professor. It was hard to deny that the man had grown and matured in leaps and bounds since his school days. And, if Minerva remembered correctly, she was certain that Sirius had even received an ‘O’ on his DADA NEWTS before joining the Hit Wizards.

“I’m afraid it is not up to me,” she stressed with a pointed look over her glasses. “The Minister is making the hiring decisions until a permanent Headmaster or Mistress can be established.”

“Cornelius?” Harry cocked a very Severus-like brow at her. “Brill, thanks ma’am!”

“Oh, Harry?”

Harry turned and looked over his shoulder at her, his smile still firmly in place.

“The creatures in the defense office will need to be gone before Sirius starts.”

Harry’s laughter bounced off the walls of the corridor, free and joyful. “Yes ma’am,” he agreed.

Never let it be said that Minerva was the third longest hat-stall in Hogwarts history for a lack of cunning. Though, as she watched Harry run off to rejoin his friends, she was once more incredibly relieved that the longest hat-stall in history was Severus’ problem.

It was no real surprise to Minerva when the Minister requested an audience with her only hours after her final class of the day on Friday. Though, the immediate topic of the conversation was a surprise.

“Well, Minerva!” Fudge was beaming through the flames in her office at her. “I’ve heard you’re doing a splendid job as Headmistress, just splendid!”

“I believe I have been adequate enough the last thirty-six hours,” Minerva said tartly.

“Adequate? Oh no,” Fudge chuckled merrily, a cold reaction from a man whose assistant died less than two full days ago. “From what I was told, Hogwarts has never had such a firm and fair sense of leadership.”

Minerva willed her lips to remain flat, internally sighing at what she was certain was a direct quote from Harry.

That young man was a riddle masked in mystery in the middle of a complex maze.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Minerva said gracefully. “Have you found a suitable replacement for our defense class?”

“I have!” Fudge’s face was round and gleaming with joy. “Well, you’ll need to ask him of course, I haven’t the time to go knocking down doors requesting resumés, but I think he’d make a spiffing replacement for Dolores, may she rest in piece.”

“And who is this spiffing replacement that I must find time to go approach?” Minerva raised a no-nonsense brow at the Minister. If a single name came out of his mouth aside from Sirius’ then she would be marching straight to the Slytherin dorms and dragging Harry up here by the ear to correct the man.

She would not allow her students to suffer through another Ministry employee in her castle.

Never again.

“Sirius Black,” Fudge said. “I’ve heard that he’s great with children, excellent at defense, and was quite the accomplished trainee in the DMLE before all that unpleasantness with Azkaban.”

“A wonderful choice,” Minerva said with no small amount of relief. “Sirius is a former pupil of mine,” she said. “I’ll reach out to him tomorrow, shall I?”

“Perfect!” Fudge cried. “Why don’t we go ahead and make your appointment permanent when we sign Black on, eh? Just put all this unpleasantness with Albus and Dolores behind us.”

“I see no problem with that,” Minerva said. She missed Albus’ reassuring presence, but Hogwarts was safer without Dolores. “I will need to fulfill the Deputy position as well, if I am meant to remain Headmistress.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Fudge waved her off. “I’ve already selected Severus.”

Of course he had.

It was a fine choice, Severus would have been Minerva’s first choice as well. Though she was certain this was another recommendation straight from Harry through the Minister.

Minerva sank down in her loveseat after disconnecting with Fudge with an assurance to inform him tomorrow of Sirius’ decision.

“It could be worse,” she murmured to her cat, Aggie, “Harry could have recommended Johnathan Abbott or Narcissa Malfoy.”

Aggie meowed in a very agreeable sort of way.

***

“Minnie! What a pleasant surprise!” Sirius stepped out of the floo in Minerva’s office, appearing quite chipper despite the early hour that she had summoned him the next morning. “Whatever can I do for you?” He batted his eyelashes flirtatiously, driving a scoff and a smile from Minerva.

“Sit,” she waved him towards the open seat across from her. “I would like to speak with you.”

“It wasn’t me,” Sirius said immediately, holding his hands up harmlessly. “I’m innocent this time.”

“You’re as innocent now as you were when you were a child.” Minerva smiled faintly as Sirius took a seat. “Though I would like to discuss something aside from your petty crimes today.”

“Minnie I’m afraid if you’re finally ready to accept my courtship, that you’re a bit too late,” Sirius smiled charmingly. “I’ve already bought a ring for Rem and I’m popping the question soon.”

“Are you really?” Minerva’s small smile of fondness grew to something much more joyful. “Poor Remus!” she laughed.

“I know.” Sirius leaned back in his seat, his legs crossed and completely at ease, just as he was during his many, many, detentions he served in this very room. “I figured it’s time for us to make it official, quit living in sin and grow up you know.”

“Congratulations,” Minerva said genuinely. “I expect an invitation.”

“An invite? I was going to make you my Best Man,” Sirius winked. “Well... you might have to duel Harry for it.”

“Duel him?” Minerva huffed out a small laugh. “You’re quite behind on times Sirius, Harry has been teaching muggle fighting methods to his classmates. Apparently using your fists in a fight is all the rage with the children now.”

Sirius smacked his knee as his entire body shook with his infectious laughter. “Oh Merlin,” he sighed happily once he controlled himself. “I love that kid.”

“He is quite something,” Minerva agreed carefully. “However, what I wanted to ask you about today is your intentions for employment?”

“Welllll....” Sirius shifted guiltily in his seat and leaned his chair back with a stretch. “I suppose I should start looking for something.”

Minerva shook her head with exasperation. Sirius had been one of her brightest and most creative students. He never lacked motivation or ambition before now. She could hardly begrudge him his leisure though, as Azkaban had stolen a good portion of his life.

A wrong that still haunted her. Minerva had spent many nights after James’ death, wondering about how Sirius could have turned against him, doubting it even when there seemed to be ample proof. But she had not spoken up, and Sirius had suffered for it.

She felt as if there was a short list of students who she had wronged during her years at Hogwarts, but Sirius, Severus, and Harry were perhaps her worst ones.

She believed that her friendship and support with Severus was slowly righting the wrongs she did when he was a student. Bringing Sirius in and offering him an opportunity to be a part of Hogwarts History would hopefully help undue some of her wrongdoings towards him. And Harry...

Well. She doubted if Harry knew that they were now even. Her outrageous behavior against him when she had listened a little too closely to Albus’ warnings in the boys’ first year should be more than forgiven now.

“You should not look for anything anymore,” Minerva told Sirius, focusing on the opportunity before her. “Come to Hogwarts. A position teaching has recently opened.”

“What?” Sirius’ chair landed back on the floor with a thud. His mouth was open as he blinked at her in surprise. “You mean Umbridge’s position? Right? You’re- You want me to come teach defense?”

“I do,” Minerva said. “I’m not without my reservations Sirius, but I believe that you would make an adequate replacement.”

“Adequate,” Sirius scoffed, but his eyes were sparkling with joy. “From what I heard, I could have taught circles around that Umbridge witch.”

“Sirius.” Minerva waited until Sirius caught her eyes and settled down. “How are you?” she asked gently. “I cannot offer you this position in good faith unless I know that all of your difficulties are better.”

Minerva could hardly look at Sirius without remembering him in his youth, as was the curse of most teachers. As at ease and relaxed as Sirius seemed now, she had seen him relaxed before. Then days later she found him at the top of the Astronomy tower, his long hair whipping about wildly from the frigid night air, dressed in a thin shirt and trousers screaming about demons keeping him from sleeping.

She would also likely never see this man without remembering James, pale faced and shaking, asking Minerva to give him and Sirius the day off classes because he couldn’t watch Sirius as well from a classroom as he could their dorm.

’Why do you need to watch Mister Black?’ Minerva had asked him.

‘He isn’t doing so good,’ James had whispered back, uncharacteristically solemn, and obviously shaken. ‘I- I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. I just have to watch him today.’

‘And why is that your job?’

James had looked up at her with confusion in his eyes. ‘Because he’s my brother.’

Minerva had never known what it was that James spent that day in their fifth year watching Sirius for, but she heard whispers. Gossip was never scarce in Hogwarts. And the rumors had broken her heart.

But she couldn’t allow sentimentality to influence a professional decision.

Sirius leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never felt this... this normal,” he said guilelessly. “I’m not just bouncing around from highs and lows anymore Minnie, I’m just... normal.” Apparently his capacity for seriousness had been fulfilled because he winked at her then. “Blame Snape,” he chuckled. “Bastard went and diagnosed me with a problem I didn’t know I had then put me on potions to treat it. He makes it hard to hate him, doesn’t he?”

“You would have to work with him Sirius,” Minerva said sternly. “And if there were any conflicts, I will warn you now that I will take Severus’ side without ample evidence to prove otherwise.”

“Hey, hey,” Sirius held his hands up placatingly. “I was kidding,” he said. “I’ve been working with Snape for two years now, kind of. If we can deal with Harry together, I think we can handle being coworkers.”

“See that you do,” Minerva said in her most grave tone. It would be a bother to do so, but she would release Sirius if he bothered Severus to an unreasonable degree. “So you accept?”

“I’d need to check with Rem first...” Sirius said slowly. “We’ve got a lot going on at home, but...” his face suddenly lit up like he had just won the quidditch cup again. “But I know he’ll say yes,” he said. “I accept.”

Minerva summoned a tea tray and the two of them sat a while longer, discussing the details of his employment. By the time they were finished, Minerva was confident that Sirius would be a pleasant addition to the staff.

“Oh, Sirius?”

Sirius paused in front of the floo and turned back.

“You may thank Harry for your position,” she told him. “It was his recommendation to the Minister that led to this.”

Minerva waited a moment for Sirius to process that, then smiled affectionately. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Severus took it as well as Minerva expected.

She hoped his increase pay as Deputy Headmaster would prevent him from throwing things, but the shattered jar from within his office once she closed the door informed her otherwise.

”I wouldn’t,” Minerva warned Tonks, whom she passed on her way to check-in with Poppy. “He’s gotten some bad news I’m afraid.”

”Bad news like he needs a shoulder to cry on, or bad news like he’s looking for someone to cut in to potion ingredients?” Tonks asked slowly, the glimmer in her eyes not dimming at either prospect.

”I believe the only one he is envisioning being cut in to pieces is your cousin,” Minerva said. “Give him an hour to cool down, then bring liquor and chips.”

Tonks winked gratefully at Minerva as she spun on her heel to head back the way she came from.

Minerva was no Albus, with his unwavering convictions on character and his never ending manipulations for the good of the population, but Minerva could hardly work with the man as long as she had without picking up a few harmless tips and tricks along the way either.

***

“Excuse me.” Minerva stood up at breakfast on Sunday morning, once more calling for the students’ attention. “I have a couple of announcements for you all.”

Severus muttered something no doubt unflattering, while the students turned expectant faces to Minerva.

“First, I would like to inform you that I will be remaining Headmistress of Hogwarts for the foreseeable future.”

Minerva graced her students with an affectionate smile as they gave her an ear-splitting ovation. As much as her title didn’t matter to her, it was vindicating to her efforts as a professor that the students accepted her so happily. She may have made mistakes in the past with some students, her mind wandered to Harry and Severus, but she had a firm conversation with herself over it and hoped that she was now a professor that all students within her castle could depend on.

“Thank you,” she said warmly once the cheers died down. “As such, Professor Snape will be fulfilling the duty of Deputy Headmaster.”

Minerva gave Severus a smug look as the cheers for his promotion were hardly less noisy than hers had been.

It had provided her and Pomona with endless amusement at Severus’ state of respect with the general student body since Harry arrived. They had been concerned that Severus would despise the son of his enemy James Potter, and instead he let the boy turn him soft. Pomona had nearly choked on her kippers one summer when they saw Severus had been appointed as ‘Witch Weekly’s Third Most Eligible Wizard’.

They had pinned the photo of Severus scowling above the moniker to the staff room wall, but all that remained was a scorch mark the next afternoon.

Minerva thought the man deserved some acknowledgment for the brave and honorable spirit she knows that Severus carries. It was one of many reasons why she continued to encourage Miss Tonks in her pursuit.

Despite Severus’ adoration of Lily, Minerva thought Nymphadora Tonks was a much better match for him. She had always been an energetic, thoughtful, ambitious young woman. A kind heart, but a fierce sense of loyalty. Just the someone to remind Severus that he was still young, still had a whole life ahead of him, and to drag him from his lab with bodily force if needed.

“And finally— starting tomorrow morning we will have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor joining us,” Minerva paused, indulging in a dramatic moment as the students all hung on her every syllable. “Professor Sirius Black. Professor Black will also be taking over as Head of Gryffindor, as I can no longer fulfill that position with impartiality.”

Sirius hardly received the cheers that Severus did, a balm to Severus’ fragile ego she hoped, but Harry and his friends were jubilantly whistling and stomping their feet.

“My hope is that despite this terrible tragedy,” more than one student scoffed, as did multiple professors, “that we can finish the year on a strong note. A note befitting of our school and our home. Thank you.”

“Anyone, Minerva, anyone. You could have had your pick of hires,” Severus groaned, watching Minerva make her move on the marble chess board while he finished his third drink of the night. “I would have filled the position myself if I’d known what you were planning.”

“Sirius came with a glowing recommendation from Minister Fudge and Harry,” Minerva said, scarcely listening as Severus voiced the same complaints he had last night. She moved her knight to D-5, her eyes zeroing in on Severus’ king.

“Of course he did,” Severus grumbled, refilling his drink and carelessly moving his bishop. “I’m sure that Fudge was all too happy to do Harry such a favor.”

“Hmm.” Minerva moved her own queen, an open feint for Severus to take. “That was my take on the matter as well. Though, even you must admit that Sirius is preferable to Dolores.”

“I must admit nothing,” Severus said sullenly. His face remained impassive as he took the bait and repositioned his king to avoid Minerva’s queen. “At the rate we seem to go through them, I’d be surprised if Black survives the rest of the year in the role. Wishful thinking I suppose.”

“Perhaps Severus, if you are unhappy with who I hired to teach defense then you should instruct your child to stop killing off our defense professors.” Minerva struck with her knight while Severus spat out his drink in a comically juvenile way.

Minerva McGonagall was no fool. She was the one who ensured that Poppy supplied Murtlap Essence to all the common rooms once she saw the bleeding hands on the backs of some of the more discipline challenged students in the castle. She had cornered Lee Jordan three weeks ago, demanding he inform her of the cuts on his hand, but he remained stubbornly tight lipped.

Minerva knew, knew it in her heart and soul, that Dolores was hurting the students. Her students. Though without a single child willing to voice a complaint, and in the face of the full Ministry backing of Dolores’ previous actions, she was helpless.

And she had despised it.

So she had thrown her assistance to Harry and his friends, standing idly by as they tortured Dolores and made the castle devolve in to utter chaos. She dropped a few hints here and there, some muttered to Peeves, some to an invisibly giggling Susan Bones, all with the goal of driving Dolores from the castle.

And then, abruptly, all new pranks and torments were ceased on Tuesday night. Two nights after Miss Hermione Granger from Ravenclaw served detention with Dolores, and the same night that Trent Bailey from Slytherin had a detentions on record with Dolores.

Both quite close to Harry, one his teammate and one a member of his circle of friends. Both seated near him the next morning and both sporting bleeding hands.

Did Minerva believe that Harry lost his desire to drive Dolores mad? She did not.

In the very back recess of her mind, in a thought she hardly allowed to make itself known, she believed that Harry Potter had found a more permanent solution to the Dolores problem.

Dolores was likely the most recent person to discover that Harry was no enemy to be trifled with.

Heart failure? Hardly.

Though, as that was what the autopsy results discovered, it was a tidy end to a terrible woman.

Minerva raised her glass to Severus’ look of horror. “Checkmate,” she said.

Chapter Text

Monday February 16

No.

Surely not.

Minerva was exaggerating, clutching at straws that simply did not exist.

The report said heart failure.

Heart failure would be impossible for Potter, brash, brazen, impulsive, reckless Potter to pull off...

... alone.

No.

It was ridiculous.

Potter was enjoying the game with his friends, the destructive pranks and overall chaos he was spreading.

Because that is who Potter is. Chaotic and loud and as subtle as a raging hippogriff.

It was ambition that carried him to Slytherin. Not subtlety or sneakiness.

Severus paced his sitting room until the rays of light began shining through his windows, alerting him to the hour.

Minerva was wrong.

Minerva had likely meant that Potter had killed Dolores by putting stress on her heart with the chaos he sowed.

Yes.

Severus decided that was just the explanation as he skipped breakfast in the hall to gulp tea and pepper-up in his office.

He had been shaken rather badly last night when Minerva indicated that Potter had killed all the previous defense professors. It wasn’t wholly unfair, as the brat did kill Quirrell and Lockhart, but Lupin and Barty were both alive, and Dolores had heart failure.

Had Potter helped her any, with his never ending torments? No, but that is a far cry from indicating he had actually killed her.

By the time Severus’ first hour Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw’s arrived, he was much calmer. Though, he had spent so much time considering the likelihood of Potter killing Dolores and Minerva discovering it that he had forgotten who arrived this morning. His students were attempting to gossip in hushed whispers when he caught a snippet of conversation.

“...Black’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

“Ten points from Ravenclaw Yarrito,” Severus snapped, his eyes unforgiving steel as he stared down the idiot boy. “Perhaps you should be working on your potion instead of gossip.”

It was blessedly silent after that.

His students that day all maintained a level of quiet excitement. Undoubtedly a result of the immense amount of changes that Hogwarts has undergone the last week. It was the predictable excitement of children with little else to worry themselves with, and it was utterly unbearable.

Severus convinced himself that it was this behavior from his students that kept him from attending dinner Monday night or breakfast on Tuesday morning. It certainly had nothing to do with Black’s undoubted presence at the staff table, a place where Severus had once found solitude amongst his true peers. It was merely quieter to eat in his chambers; comforting, relaxing.

Severus kept up his increased solidity until Tuesday evening. He had no more than just dismissed his OWLS-level Gryffindor and Slytherin’s, before a student came skidding up to his desk.

“Hello Professor!”

Severus sighed and looked up to the bright eyes of one of his second year Slytherins, Trent Bailey.

“Mister Bailey, how can I help you?”

Bailey’s large, slightly buck-toothed, smile dimmed and he appeared apprehensive.

“Uh... are we... you said to come today,” the boy mumbled, scuffing at the stone floor with the toe of his trainers. “Sorry, I can go...”

“Apologies.” Severus had actually completely forgotten about rescheduling his meeting with Bailey in the face of Dolores’ death, Black’s appointment, and Minerva’s accusations about Potter. “Please, sit,” he said calmly. “Why don’t I call up for some biscuits and tea?”

“Alright sir.” Bailey smiled happily once more, easily pleased by the slightest attentions.

A common trademark of children who garner only negative attention at home.

“How has your week been?” Severus asked after summoning a tea tray from his quarters. “Have you been staying on top of your studies?”

“Yes sir.” Bailey was enthusiastic as he described his week. “That detention was terrible, but then me and Sapphire played gobstones on Wednesday—”

“Sapphire and I,” Severus corrected him, sliding a cup of tea to the boy.

“Yes sir, Sapphire and I,” Bailey nodded seriously before going on as he kicked his feet beneath the desk. “Well then Thursday Harry took us all flying all day since we didn’t have classes.”

“Of course he did,” Severus scoffed. “I believe the Headmistress requested you utilize that time to study.”

“Wellll... we didn’t have any homework and Harry said everyone deserved to have a bit of fun since Umbridge was so terrible. Then this weekend...”

Bailey continued talking, but Severus tuned him out as the boy dipped his biscuit in his tea and Severus caught sight of a peculiar mark on his hand.

“Trent... have you injured yourself?” Severus asked slowly.

He hadn’t believed the boy was depressed, shockingly despite his rather terrible home life, but his left hand was red with straight white scars across the top of it. Severus desperately hoped the boy wasn’t self-harming. Though, it was just as likely that he’d been harmed by any one of the many rampant creatures in the castle recently.

Bailey followed Severus’ eyes to see what injury he was talking about, and grimaced as he twisted his hand around to see the scars.

“That’s from detention,” he said, his normally cheery face twisting up in childish irritation. “Mione tried to heal it, with Murtlap Essence, but not even Harry could make the scars disappear.”

“May I see?” Severus had a terrible feeling when Trent held his hand out and he was able to read ‘I will sit still’ in Bailey’s own handwriting, carved deep enough to leave behind this white scar.

Severus dropped the boys hand and pushed down his anger, bit back the fury bubbling in his stomach. “I would like you to tell me precisely what happened during your detention and afterwards,” he said with as much calm as he could muster in the face of an obvious abuse of his student.

“Sure.”

Severus sat, and listened, and began to piece together a puzzle he had not realized he had.

Potter told Bailey to inform him if Dolores did anything untoward in his detention, and when the witch made Bailey carve open his own skin with a Blood Quill, Bailey went straight to Potter.

“And Harry was mad, real mad,” Bailey said. “He told me to go with Mione and Theo, to fix my hand, and he hissed something out like a snake and I thought he was going to go shoot Umbridge! Because a gun flew right to his hand!”

Severus had forgotten, but he did mean to kill Lucius at some point for that.

“And then what happened?” he asked lightly, drawing Bailey in with his neutral tone.

“And then Theo told me and Mione to go to her common room, which by the way sir, Ravenclaw’s common is not nearly as cool as ours, and then she gave me some yellow stuff to soak my hand in and let me sleep on the couch there.”

Severus hummed as he attempted to fit pieces together in his mind. Potter was prepared to shoot Dolores on Tuesday night, then he was stopped by Theodore it seemed like.

And then Dolores coincidentally died of heart failure the next night?

Severus had never believed in coincidences before, and he hardly did now.

It merited heavy consideration when he was alone.

“That sounds like a terrible night,” Severus told Bailey genuinely. “I imagine that it was quite painful. I am sorry that Dolores did that to you Trent.”

“It’s alright,” Bailey smiled with all the innocence of a child. “It hurt then, but it’s better now. And she’s gone and I had Professor Black yesterday and he’s super brill.”

Severus bit back a scowl at the reminder of the mutt and the compliment taken from Potter’s cockney vocabulary.

“Yes well.” Severus cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea. “Dolores set the bar rather low for defense professors, I am sure.”

“She did,” Bailey agreed with a laugh. “But Professor Black uses magic in class, and he lets us use magic.”

“Excellent,” Severus said, his sarcasm flying right over the boys head. “Aside from Tuesday night then, you have not had any difficulties recently?”

“No sir.” Bailey had been smiling, but some thought apparently drew a frown from the boy. “Uh... well... actually... you know that list you wanted?”

“Yes?” Severus prompted him, hoping the boy had not forgotten, although it would be understandable considering the recent events.

“I just only have my mom, my dad, and me,” Bailey said slowly. “And my dad’s not really around anymore, so... so did you want me to just write down me and mom?”

Severus withheld a sigh, not wanting the boy to think he was displeased with him. It was not Bailey he was displeased with, but the boy’s entire situation.

Bailey’s mother, during the one visit Severus had made to her muggle hovel, had been an unpleasant drunk who seemed to place all her difficulties in life squarely on her son’s thin shoulders.

It was as reminiscent of Tobias Snape as Severus had ever seen. Aside from a current lack of physical punishments, which he had ensured with some light legillimency.

Severus had spoken with Amelia after his visit with Ms Bailey, and they attempted to reach some form of compromise. The child would be miserable (at best) returning to his mother’s home with her verbal and emotional abuse, but without physical abuse it would be a difficult case to legally remove him. They hoped that Trent would have some distant relation that Amelia could reach out to, implore them to take in their kin, but apparently not.

Severus focused on the boy before him, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Trent, in an ideal world, where would you feel safest residing during your summer breaks?”

“Hogwarts,” Bailey said immediately. His face lit up as he stared hopefully at Severus. “Is that possible?”

It was not.

But when Severus bade the child a good night less than an hour later, he assured him that he would attempt to find a solution before they met again after Easter.

What that solution would be, Severus had no idea. Though it did fall to the wayside in his thoughts as his mind trailed back to Potter.

”Expecto Patronum,” Severus flicked his wand and settled his eyes on his fox. He hesitated for only the briefest of moments before sending a curt message, “I would like to speak with you, immediately and alone.”

He had considered seeking out Theodore, but that boy was as tightly wound to Potter as Bones and Weasley were. If Theodore refused to name Potter’s acts when Potter shot him in the knee over the summer, he would hardly give his faux-sibling up for murder.

It was eerie sometimes, when Severus saw Potter and his friends sitting together in various settings. If he squinted his eyes, Potter could pass for a young Tom Riddle. Charismatically drawing the others in with his own unique charms, power, his plans, his desire to change the world. Theodore, at his right hand, saved from an abusive father by Potter, reminiscent of Severus himself. Draco, drawn in by Potter’s power and prestige, deeply loyal, easily passing for Lucius. Miss Bones, with her ferocity and the fire in her eyes when anyone insulted Potter in any way, always on the verge of waging a blood-filled war on his behalf, a red-headed vision of a young Bellatrix. Granger, with her Ravenclaw ties, eidetic memory, and the way she was talked in to joining Potter’s group was quite similar to Barty.

He was certain he could draw a great many more distressing similarities to the Dark Lord’s inner circle if he chose to. It was one of many reasons why Severus kept his eyes wide open and focused only on the present when he saw Potter’s band of misfits.

Friends, not followers, for the Merlin damned, Morgana blessed, Boy-Who-Lived-To-Become-A-Serial-Killer.

Perhaps Severus should have made different decisions years ago, applied a firmer hand in Potter’s behavior, but it was a fine line between guiding Potter away from his worst tendencies and understanding all too clearly why he was the way he was.

The muggle world was lucky Potter had no desire to wreck vengeance on the whole for the actions of the few.

Severus paced in his office, developing a cunning way to get the information he required, his head aching despite the many pain-relieving potions he had consumed in the last thirty-six hours.

Potter was going to eventually cause his kidneys to shut down, he was certain of it.

Eventually, thirty some odd minutes since sending his patronus, his office door opened and Potter himself stepped in.

“I’m here Sev,” he said with a crooked smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sit,” Severus snapped, pointing at Potter’s seat. He continued his irritated pacing, watching as Potter easily loped across his classroom and settled in his seat.

Severus ignored Potter’s politely puzzled look as he frowned at his ward and continued pacing. Potter looked as if a model student; his green shirt buttoned neatly, his tie tied tight, his robes pressed and clean. He hardly looked the part of what a killer should.

“I heard Trent Bailey had detention with Dolores last week,” he said evenly, if not baldly. “He stated that he informed you of her abuse?”

“Yup.” Potter crossed his legs at the knee and shrugged casually. “Guess she can’t do that anymore, can she?”

There was no use dancing around the issue at hand. And, truth be told, as much as Potter’s ambition and self-reliance made him a formidable Slytherin, Potter still had enough Gryffindor tendencies in him to appreciate a blunt approach.

“Did you kill her?” Severus asked, his feet coming to a halt behind his desk. His heart rate was slightly higher than normal, internally praying for a negative response.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Potter scoffed. The child shook his head disapprovingly before wiggling his fingers in the direction of the door. “Your room wasn’t even warded Sev.”

“You did.” Severus slammed one hand on his desk and pinched his nose with the other. “For Gods sake Potter, what is wrong with you?”

“Why do you always ask me that?” Potter asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he tapped his nails on the desk. “We do this all the time. You ask what’s wrong with me, I get pissed, you get pissed, d’you really wanna fight?” Potter’s voice was reasonable, even if his logic was flawed.

“I apologize for irritating you with my disdain for your murderous tendencies Potter,” Severus sneered.

Potter rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Well seeing as she was carving up actual kids, I didn’t really think you’d be so disdain-filled sir. If we’re just gonna fight, I’m gonna go.”

“Disdainful,” Severus absently corrected him, his mind whirling with Potter’s arrogance.

Self-confidence when it comes to inter-personal relationships? None.

Self-confidence when it came to murder? Potter had it in spades.

’Harry will likely qualify for a psychopathy diagnosis by eighteen.’

Potter likely qualified for it at fifteen, in Severus’ opinion.

“Did it not once occur to you to inform me, or Madame Bones, or your friend the Minister of Magic that there was a professor abusing students?” Severus asked, watching as Potter cocked his head at him.

“I think that would have made it a bit more suspicious when I killed her, yeah?” Potter grinned.

Severus cared for Potter. He was incredibly fond of the child. He gave him his house, formally named him his heir, protected him when the occasion required it. He would kill for the child and he would die for him.

But damn if the brat didn’t make himself incredibly unlikeable at times.

“This is amusing to you?” Severus asked, his voice taking a dangerously soft note. “You committed a senseless crime within Hogwarts halls and you find it amusing?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Potter shrugged, his own annoyance clearly rising as he grabbed the back of the chair and thrummed his fingers against the wood. “I personally would just be happy that she’s gone and no one’s the wiser, but you can get over it however you want.”

Severus’ jaw actually dropped at Potter’s absolute arrogance.

What would the brat do if he did not simply ‘get over it’? If he cut the child out as punishment? As a warning?

‘Stop killing people or I will no longer speak with you.’

It was juvenile, but it wasn’t as if Severus saw a great many options in that moment.

“Get out,” he said sharply. “Speak to me when you have seen the multitude of other options you had to handle Dolores.”

“‘Kay,” Potter shrugged, uncharacteristically unflappable. “Ta Sev, see ya later.”

Severus waited until Potter closed the door behind himself to throw a book off his desk at it.

Fucking Potter.

Severus’ determination to freeze Potter out until the child saw the flaw in his decisions lasted the rest of the week.

It was convenient that Severus already found excuses to miss meals in the Great Hall. He informed Minerva that he had an abundance of paperwork to do with his new professional title, and she conceded his appearance at meals, though she had not seemed convinced of his reasoning.

Though, as she was the one who brought Sirius Black to the castle, Severus doubted if she would force him to attend meals as he was technically required to do.

Severus was reflecting on his current ‘Potter Problem’ in his office on Friday evening. Truly, he never stopped having ‘Potter Problem’s’, their severity simply increased as Potter aged.

Although... Severus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes gently. However Potter managed to kill Dolores that mimicked heart failure was drastically less problematic than nearly every single decision he made last year.

If Potter was still not turning to adults for assistance with his problems, at least his friends were relatively competent.

Thank Merlin for Theodore Knott.

Though it hardly resolved the quandary he now found himself in. If he began speaking to Potter, as he had coolly ignored the brat all through his Thursday potions class, not that Potter had seemed to care, he would be going back on his own words. On the other hand, it appeared as if Potter was prepared to wait him out patiently with unshakeable confidence that Severus would ‘get over it’ eventually.

It was nearly heartening. There had been a time where Severus could say one sharp word to the child and he would imagine their relationship was severed.

Of course, that had been many murders ago. So Severus was not counting his blessings much.

He had simply brushed aside Potter’s past behavior, never truly forcing him to understand that murder was a last resort option. Instead, he allowed Potter to grow in to a person who used it as a convenient first choice.

Potter’s problematic and unrepentant behavior could be laid on Severus’ shoulders as much as it could his own.

Severus was still debating on the best way to levitate himself out of the hole he dug with Potter when there was a knock on his door.

He hoped it was Potter, though since the person waited until after he told them to enter to open the door, he doubted it.

Delightful.

Black stepped in the room, closing the door behind him as if he were not the very person Severus least wished to see.

“Hey Snape.” Black lifted the side of his mouth in a small smile. “Mind if I talk for a bit? I come bearing a gift.” He held up a bottle of scotch and shook it invitingly.

It was inevitable that Severus would have to see the man. As peaceful as it had been, he could hardly continue isolating himself in his quarters for every meal.

“What do you want?” Severus asked curtly, unappreciative of the nonchalant way Black eased himself in the wooden chair across from him.

“I... well... I wanted to ask you for help, which is why I brought this,” Black added hastily, pushing the bottle across the desk towards Severus. “I always thought teaching was easy, but... but it’s rather hard, isn’t it?”

Severus scoffed, inspecting the offering as Black rambled.

“None of these kids have done any defensive magic all year, they’re pretty behind. But it’s hard to let them do magic in class and have time to teach them stuff from the books. And if I do notes beforehand then they’re all bored and not listening, but if I do notes after a demonstration then they’re talking and not listening. How do you do it?”

Severus was surprised by Black’s genuine curiosity and his willingness to share his shortcomings. It was this surprise that led him to answering truthfully.

“The students are testing you,” he said. “You are a new professor, and they are looking to see how far they are able to misbehave before you assign punishments. How many points have you taken so far?”

“Uh...” Black pulled on his shirt collar for a moment while he thought. “None?”

Severus rolled his eyes and summoned two glass tumblers from his quarters.

“There lies your problem,” he said, pouring them each a neat glass. “You say the students have been not listening, talking and being disrespectful, and you have yet to take a single point? Why would they listen to you when there is no incentive?”

“I just don’t wanna be one of those teachers that kids are all afraid of,” Black said, accepting his drink with a nod. “You know the type.”

Severus raised a brow at Black silently until it dawned on the idiotic man who he was speaking with.

“You don’t count,” Black laughed, entirely too relaxed in Severus’ company. “I’ve heard a few Gryffs complaining about ‘the dungeon bat’, but the kids all talk about how fair you are, how your class is ‘sooo dangerous’ that ‘of course Snape has to be strict’. I even heard one Hufflepuff say she thinks you’re ‘the best teacher in Hogwarts’.”

“That is why I refuse to listen to the opinions of Hufflepuffs,” Severus scowled. He took a tentative sip of the scotch Black brought and found it not entirely intolerable.

“Don’t let Susan or Tonks hear you say that,” Black said with a light smile. “I’m starting to think that Hufflepuffs are the ones we really should have been worrying about this whole time. Hard workers with unshakable loyalty?” Black shuddered. “They make my lions look like little cubs.”

Severus curled a lip at the realization that he agreed with Black. Hufflepuffs were rather dangerous.

“How are ‘your lions’ handling the change in leadership?” he asked instead. “Minerva has been the Head of Gryffindor for so long, I doubt if the Fat Lady even recognizes her change in title.”

“She doesn’t,” Black said. “But Val and I go way back, a few compliments and a wink here and there and she’s paint in my hands.”

Severus scoffed. It was unsurprising that Black had managed to charm a portrait. Severus recalled all too easily the way that their classmates trailed behind Black as if eager krups in desperate need of petting.

“The kids don’t really seem to care who their head of house is, I got the feeling it wasn’t a real interactive job.”

“It should be,” Severus told him. He knew that the other heads interacted with their students differently than he did— Pomona with her monthly house meetings that Severus presumed included cocoa and story time or something equally preposterous. Filius who maintained an ‘open door policy’ and had his older students pair with the younger ones for assistance in classes they struggle with. Minerva was perhaps the most lax of the heads, though her students were also the least likely to ‘suffer in silence’, so she had a bit more leeway than the others.

Although... Severus eyed Black carefully as he considered stories Regulus shared of their upbringing. Abuse, while scoffed at by many adults who could hardly imagine such a thing, was not exclusive to any one Hogwarts House. Certainly Slytherin drew more than average, as children developed strong senses of self-preservation and cunning in those situations, but the man in front of him was proof that Gryffindor’s were not exempt from it.

“One of the things I have attempted to push in the past is mandatory screenings for all students when they enter Hogwarts,” Severus said as casually as he could. “I screen my new students every September, every applicant to the Slytherin Quidditch Team to ensure proper health conditions before allowing them to play a strenuous sport, and any students who I believe may have an unsatisfactory home life get annual screenings. Perhaps that could be a task you undertake for your students as well.”

Black appeared surprisingly thoughtful, rubbing his chin as he looked down in his drink.

“Your screening for abuse, right?” he asked. “Trying to make sure kids don’t have to go home to places they aren’t wanted?”

“In simple terms,” Severus agreed.

Black nodded slowly, his eyes lifting from his drink to meet Severus’. “Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea Snape. Why don’t the others do that?”

Severus scoffed and refilled his glass, offering the bottle to Black to top off his own.

“Albus,” he said as a single answer. “He believes that children’s family lives are private and that a school should not interfere. It is an archaic way of thinking that only serves to protect the abusers from being caught.”

Black’s face flashed with a brief look of anger, a storm cloud passing over his grey eyes. “I guess it’s a good think Minnie’s in charge then,” he said.

“Minerva, while perhaps good intentioned, tends to believe that children suffering from abuse could never be one of her loud and outgoing lions,” Severus sneered. “As if children do not respond to situations in different ways.”

Black raised his glass with a wry smile. “Sometimes kids are loud at school because they have to be quiet at home. And some kids might have begged the hat to put them in a house just so they could learn to be brave when it mattered.”

Severus had an uncomfortable twist in his stomach at Black’s words, a twist that was nearly camaraderie with the man. He inclined his head silently, questioning where the hat may have wanted to place Black originally.

Black took a small sip of his drink, choosing to mostly swirl it around the glass. “I guess that’s how you got suspicious about Harry then? A new student screening?”

Severus smirked, nostalgia nearly filling him, as he recalled his early interactions with Potter.

“I found him on a bus and drug him to have lunch,” Severus said. “The brat was rude, ill-mannered, spoke like a street urchin, and when I went to take him shopping, he had the audacity to jam a knife in my abdomen.”

Black barked out a laugh, merriment returning to his face at the comfortable topic. “He’s great at defense,” he said gushingly. “You should see him Snape, not a spell he can’t do.”

“Harry is a magical prodigy,” Severus agreed calmly, if not a tad haughtily. “I have always known this.”

“So you’re not purposefully avoiding him?” Black asked, squinting at Severus thoughtfully.

Slytherin.

The hat must have wanted Black in Slytherin.

“Who says I am avoiding Harry?” Severus asked, gazing at Black with only enough obvious curiosity to satisfy the man.

“Harry does,” Black said, leaning back and crossing his legs with a modicum of what Severus could admit was grace. “He said that he did something you didn’t like and now you’re not talking to him anymore.”

Severus bit back on the juvenile jealousy that reared it’s green head at the knowledge that Black and Potter were close enough for the child to confide in the man.

“I believe that matter is between Harry and myself,” Severus said. His eyes flicked from Black’s to the clock on the wall, then to the door. A relatively unsubtle nudge towards the other man leaving.

Black followed Severus’ gaze and chuckled at the blatant dismissal. “Alright, alright,” he said. He sat his glass on Severus’ desk, getting to his feet lightly. “All I was going to say was Harry likes you quite a bit, and he sort of... sort of copies you? Mimics you!” he cried. “He mimics you. So, I dunno.” Black ruffled his hair and shrugged. “If you just talk to him then I bet he’ll talk to you too, but maybe I just spend too much time listening to Remus study. He reads out loud Snape, all the time.”

“How dreadful for you,” Severus said drily. “Accidentally being exposed to a higher education? It must be the pinnacle of terror.”

“It is,” Black said, the solemnity in his tone hardly matching the mischief in his eyes. “Thanks for the help Snape, maybe I’ll eventually see you around?”

“Only if my very best efforts have failed,” Severus drawled with a half-hearted sneer.

“You can eat in the Great Hall you know,” Black said, a teasing smile curling up the side of his lips. “I won’t even talk to you during meals if you’d like.”

Severus hummed, unwilling to admit he had been purposefully avoiding Black.

He was rather resentful that Black had been able to determine the reason for his absence though. Teenage Severus never would have anticipated a future where he was forced to spend enough time with Sirius Black that Black could pick up his behavioral cues.

Potter’s fault of course.

As most things were.

Chapter Text

Saturday, February 28

“D’you wanna go fly?”

“Mate,” Ron sighed, apparently sick of Harry’s constant pestering and sat down the book he was reading, their new defense textbook Sirius assigned.

Harry actually thought it was decent of Sirius to provide books for the students. He told Harry he was worried some kids couldn’t afford to buy a new book and some kids might not have an owl to order one even if they did. It was the sort of thinking that Harry tried to mimic, show people that he could be considerate too.

“It’s freezing out,” Ron said.

“So?” Harry shrugged and wiggled his fingers in the air. “I can make it warm, can’t I?”

“He is studying, like you should be,” Hermione said, barely looking over the top of her transfiguration text to scold him. “OWLS are just around the corner Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat. He looked around their table and saw that everyone was studying like mad. Even Luna had a bit of ink on her cheek as she patiently made corrections to Neville’s potion notes.

“Sue?” he asked hopefully. He gave Susan his brightest most charming smile, only to be immediately shot down.

“Why don’t you see if Theo wants to go do something with you? Since he is your new best friend.” Susan’s nostrils flared as she gave him a cool look.

“Are you really still mad?” Harry whispered, flicking his hand for a quick muffliato for their group. “It was an emergency.”

Hermione hummed skeptically, but Susan kept her teal eyes narrowed while she stared Harry down.

They’d already argued about this at least four times.

If Susan wanted to be involved in more murders then she should have been sorted in to Slytherin, it was as simple as that. Theo was a choice of convenience, and look where that got him.

Harry glanced subtly at Theo and saw that even though the shadows beneath his eyes were still prominent, the tightness in the lines of his face had disappeared somewhat.

Harry had felt... bad? Remorseful? He felt something he didn’t like when Theo had a breakdown over poisoning Umbridge. He kind of thought that their little talk in the boys loo had been enough to sort out Theo’s ridiculous guilt, but then the nightmares started and Harry had to deal with that too.

Harry sure as hell wasn’t going to lay in Theo’s bed and stroke his hair like Susan and Luna did for him, but he did put up a silencing charm so Theo didn’t wake the others and sat on the trunk at the foot of his bed, quietly reading out loud from his book on blood sacrifices until Theo fell back asleep. Harry had brief memories of his aunt doing that for his cousin when he had nightmares, and since Theo didn’t seem to want to learn Occlumency right now to stop them, or take Dreamless Sleep, then it was Harry’s next best choice. Aside from the first night, when Theo looked terrified as Harry offered him a chocolate from his trunk and started reading, it seemed to work well enough. Harry didn’t get much sleep on those nights, but they seemed to be lessening a bit too.

It was actually exhausting having so many friends. Harry probably should have just stuck with one or two when he first got here.

“Pick anyone you want and we can kill them if you’ll just stop studying,” Harry told Susan with another bright smile. Sure Snape would be pissed, but Harry was bored. If it would get at least one of their friends’ noses out of a book then it was worth it.

“I’m busy right now and there aren’t a lot of options at Hogwarts,” Susan said primly, picking her history book back up.

“Dray, wanna go feed the thestrals with me?” Harry asked. Unlike some people, Hermione, Harry had actually liked the giant winged horses that Hagrid brought to class. And he especially liked that only a few of them could see them; it made the thestrals better somehow, special.

“I can’t,” Draco said, his grey eyes actually looking slightly apologetic. “I really do need to study, Flitwick said the charms OWL is one of the hardest ones.”

“Blaise?” Harry said, giving Blaise as genuine of a smile as he could muster in the face of so much utter boredom. “We could go fight in the Secret Room?”

Blaise silently held his left arm up, showing Harry the scar right above his elbow from the fight they’d had during the last club meeting.

“How is that my fault?” Harry demanded.

“You said it was a muggle fight then you stabbed him,” Theo said drily, his eyes never moving from his parchment.

“Muggles use knives,” Susan said, apparently her loyalty beating out her annoyance with Harry. “It’s called constant vigilance Blaise darling.”

“It’s called a sneak attack and I’m not giving you another opportunity until I’ve figured out how to flick those knives like you do,” Blaise said. “Go sow chaos somewhere else.”

“Fine.” Harry slammed his hands on the table, not in any real anger, mostly just to be a prat and rattle their supplies. He got to his feet and gave them all his best disappointed look, “Then I’m going to find Fred. At least he’s not boring.”

The ‘unlike you lot’ was silent, but heavily implied.

“Why don’t you go bother Snape?” Draco suggested. “Fred’s probably studying for his NEWTS.”

“Doubtful,” Ron scoffed under his breath.

“Snape still isn’t talking to me, is he?” Harry scowled. Snape was lasting longer than Harry thought he would, but Harry knew he’d crack soon. Eleven days was nothing, and he’d have to talk to Harry during Easter Break.

“Still?” Neville’s dark brows climbed high on his forehead. “Why don’t you just apologize for killing Umbridge? You don’t have to mean it to apologize.”

“Blaise says sorry all the time and never means it,” Susan added with a small grin.

“Why would I?” Blaise asked haughtily. “As Harry says, words mean nothing and actions prove everything.”

Harry was pretty sure he didn’t say that quite like that, but it was a decent summary of his thoughts anyway.

“Harry won’t apologize when he isn’t sorry, he doesn’t lie to Snape,” Luna said. “And if you add the pixie venom before you reduce the fire then you would make a toxic gas that would kill every person in the castle,” she added to Neville, pointing at something on his parchment.

“Luna’s right and you all suck,” Harry said. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and curled his lip up in an annoyed sneer at their books once more before leaving the library.

Nobody would be happier than Harry when OWLS were over. He didn’t realize how seriously everyone took it until recently when it seemed as if every free moment was spent in the library, his friends studying and Harry bothering them with his presence.

He pulled out the Marauders Map and scanned it until he found the dot Fred Weasley in an empty classroom on the main floor with George Weasley and Lee Jordan.

Perfect. Then Fred wasn’t studying and he wasn’t trying to hide out in his dorm and mope by himself either. The first time Harry found him laying in his dorm by himself, his eyes red-rimmed and sad, he’d tried out the ‘Theo method’, but reading out loud didn’t work for Fred, it didn’t relax him at all. Harry tried out a few other methods to cheer him up, but then Fred finally told him he just wanted to have somewhere quiet to think. Now when Harry finds Fred’s dot in his dorm alone, he just slips up there in his cloak and lays beside him in silence. Fred never says anything, but he holds Harry’s hand when he shows up, so Harry assumed that it’s a good method to keep using.

Being with Fred was easy right now, even with their ‘counseling’ they’d done twice since Christmas break. All Harry had to do was be quiet and supportive when Fred was upset, and find ways to make him laugh when he wasn’t. They talked a lot about the future, counting it as their ‘two-way conversation’ Lupin told them to have, and made plans together. Plans like Fred coming to Hogsmeade once a month while Harry was still at Hogwarts, and like Harry agreeing to add a dresser to his bedroom for Fred.

It was easy. Simple.

And surely Fred would be up for something today. He cared about his NEWTS nearly as much as Harry cared about his OWLS.

“It’s me,” Harry said, poking his head in the classroom once he’d found it. He raised his brows at the stacks of purple boxes and slipped inside at George’s quick gesture.

The three of them had filled the dusty classroom with their packaged products. All of the boxes and crates, except for a few yellow ones, were the brightest purple Harry had ever seen.

“Hey Potter,” Lee smiled at him, his teeth bright against his dark skin. “Welcome to the current inventory room for their future shop.”

“Yeah?” Harry finally spotted Fred’s head pop up behind a stack of what looked like the yellow Skiving Snack Boxes.

Harry had tried to help them before, right after they came back and Fred started ‘burying his grief in work’, but he was lousy at it. He didn’t have creative ideas like they did, the inventory sheets confused him, and their goofy marketing slogans sounded dumb when Harry said them.

He did happily spend a day helping them test some of their products on Finnigan, Macmillan, and Parkinson though. They avoided any Ravenclaw’s, since Hermione looked rather McGonagall-ish when she heard them plotting during dinner.

To see all this though...

“It’s really happening,” Harry told Fred. “You’ve got the place all set up then?”

“Yup.” Fred came over and surveyed what was basically his life’s work beside Harry. “We’re packing this up the last week and moving it over to the shop. I think we can open by July 5th.”

“That’s wicked,” Harry said, genuinely impressed. “Hey, if you’re done today d’you wanna go fly, or we could sneak off to Hogsmeade, or something?”

“Not so fast Snakey.” George shook his finger at Harry threateningly. “We’ve got seventy packages of Whiz-Bang’s that need boxed up today.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. “Today?” he asked Fred, figuring he’d be the easier one to convince to do literally anything else. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow the love potions will be done,” Lee said, checking their list taped to the wall. “And we still need to see if Angie will ward this room or not.”

“I’ll ward it,” Harry offered quickly.

“You took runes?”

“No,” Harry scowled at Lee’s question. Of course the wards would be runes. He didn’t have a clue how they worked and refused to learn no matter how many times Theo offered to teach him.

“You can stick around if you want,” Fred offered. “We’re brewing felix felicis tonight.”

Harry wasn’t sure what that was, but he didn’t really fancy hanging out while they brewed either. Snape swore he was ‘a restless menace in a potions lab’. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll just... I’ll find something to do.”

“If you want you can hand out some of the candies,” George said. “We haven’t found a lot of volunteers for the nosebleed nougats yet.”

“‘Kay.” Harry accepted the candies half-heartedly. Walking around tricking students in to giving themselves a nosebleed wasn’t exactly the exciting task he wanted to do today. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“I’ll block Monday off for us to hang out, alright?” Fred said quietly at the doorway. “Love you.”

“‘Kay, have fun,” Harry said. “Don’t blow up or I’m replacing you with someone who isn’t busy.”

“You’re supposed to say love you too,” Fred laughed.

Harry raised his brows and smirked. “Isn’t that what I said?”

After that dead end, Harry wandered the castle under his cloak, occasionally glancing at his map, hoping one of his friends would give up on their studies and be free to do something with soon.

He paused in his aimless wandering when Remus Lupin’s dot joined Sirius Black’s in the DADA quarters. Harry turned around, heading back in that direction. Just because Snape wasn’t talking to him, didn’t mean he couldn’t go bother Sirius and Lupin.

Harry knocked lightly on the painting that led to Sirius’ quarters, annoyed that he couldn’t just poke his head in like he did Snape’s. He waited for Sirius to come let him in, tapping his foot as he did.

It took more than just a few minutes, but finally Sirius opened the portrait up.

“Hey! Harry!” His eyes were bright and he looked much more excited than was necessary for Harry to be there. “Just the person I wanted to see! Come in!”

Harry tentatively followed Sirius in to his quarters, keeping one hand casually in his pocket. Until he knew why Sirius looked so excited, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. Nobody, aside from maybe Luna sometimes, was ever that excited just to see Harry.

“Hello, Harry.” Lupin was standing in Sirius’ sitting room, leaning against the fireplace with the same bright look of excitement in his eyes that Sirius had.

“Hello,” Harry said slowly, lingering in the doorway uncertainly while Sirius went bounding up to Lupin’s side across the room. “What are you two on about?”

“We’re getting married!” Sirius cried abruptly, holding Lupin’s hand up for Harry to inspect.

Harry spotted the glitter of gold on Lupin’s hand and relaxed. That explained their excitement.

“Brill,” he gave them both a small smile. He wasn’t sure what the fuss was about since they already lived together and spent all their time together, but they seemed happy enough. “Congrats.”

“Thank you,” Lupin said genuinely. He had a smile that seemed to make the severity of the scars on his face lessen and the greys in his hair recede.

Sirius was just as obviously happy, he looked at the ring on Lupin’s finger like it was obvious proof that Lupin loved him. Which, Harry kind of assumed, that was the point of being married. The person you wanted by your side forever was bound to you through the good or the bad. They couldn’t easily change their minds and leave you. Plus, everyone would see a ring on their finger and know that they belonged to someone else.

Harry kind of liked the idea of it.

“And now I have something to ask you.” Sirius grabbed a box of his fireplace mantle and brought it over to Harry. Harry raised his brow at him, accepting the box carefully.

“I don’t want to marry you,” he said flatly. “It’s gross, isn’t it?”

“Open the box smartass,” Sirius laughed.

Harry shrugged and flipped the lip off the box. He furrowed his brows down at what was inside of it and plucked the contents out to hold them up.

“You got me firewhisky and a bow tie? Why?”

Lupin chuckled over by the fireplace and Sirius barked out a much louder laugh.

“It’s a bribe and a gift,” he said. “Harry, as my favorite godson—”

“Only godson,” Harry corrected him, unwillingly smiling at his teasing tone.

“As my favorite godson, will you stand up with me this summer and be my best man?”

“I don’t...” Harry glanced at Lupin, who was still just smiling at them, and felt his face heat up embarrassingly. “I don’t know what that means,” he admitted.

Sirius didn’t look put out by his admission, he was still just as excited and obviously happy as before.

“It’s a wedding thing,” he explained. “It means when we get married, if you accept, you’ll stand next to me as like... well as my favorite person, besides Rem, I guess.”

“Do I have to do anything special?” Harry asked.

“Make sure Moony doesn’t bail on me,” Sirius winked. “Wear dress robes, that’s about it. We’re not doing anything huge, just quick, quiet, done.”

“‘Kay, I’ll do it, thanks Sirius.” Harry shrugged, pocketing the alcohol and bow tie quickly. “Who’s your best man then?” he asked Lupin.

“I haven’t decided who to ask yet,” Lupin said with a small shrug of his own. “Perhaps Lobo or Bill.”

“Lobo? From your pack?” Harry asked, remembering jotting the name down a few times when he was making his notes for the last gang meeting.

“Yes, Ricardo,” Lupin said. “We’ve become friends of a sort and I believe he would enjoy being asked.”

Harry looked between Sirius and Lupin and thought it was kind of sad that the only people they had to ask to stand up with them were Sirius’ teenaged godson and a guy Lupin just met last summer. Probably most of their friends died in the last war though, like Harry’s dad.

Maybe it was a good thing he had so many friends. Even if their problems were exhausting to deal with on occasion, at least he’d never struggle to find someone to be his best man.

“What else are you guys doing then?” Harry asked, moving further in the room to set the empty box back on Sirius’ table. “There is nothing to do today.”

“Weeelllll...”

Harry studied Sirius’ sudden frown and it took him a moment to understand what was going on.

“You guys have plans,” he said dully. “Brill.”

Lupin looked apologetic, but Sirius immediately made to cancel them.

“No, don’t worry about it Pup,” he said. He flopped down on the sofa and pat the cushion beside him. “We were just going to go tell Andromeda and get dinner, but we can cancel, or— oh, do you want to go with us?”

“No.” Harry held back on scowling or rolling his eyes. If Sirius thought he was unhappy then he’d offer to stay and Harry didn’t want to hold him back. “Maybe I’ll go see if anyone’s done studying and wants to drink,” he said.

“Or maybe you could study,” Lupin suggested with a small grin. “OWLS are coming up.”

“And Professor Black just gave me a whole bottle of firewhisky,” Harry said innocently. “So maybe I’m supposed to drink it.”

Sirius laughed and then shook his head at Lupin’s disapproving look.

“What?” he cried. “James gave me a bottle of booze when he asked me to be his best man!”

“And you were an adult, and James wasn’t your teacher,” Lupin said patiently. “Bit of a difference there Pads.”

“Ah well,” Sirius waved off Lupin’s concerns and got up to ruffle Harry’s hair in the way that he very begrudgingly tolerates with only the slightest tensing of his back muscles. “Harry doesn’t need to study anyway, he’s a genius Rem.”

“Even geniuses need to study,” Lupin said, sounding exactly like Hermione. “Surely there’s at least one subject you’re nervous about passing Harry?”

“Nope.” Harry shoved both hands in his trouser pockets and smirked. “Practicals count for so much of the score that I’m hoping I’ll get extra points for wandless magic and then my written won’t matter too much. And I’m dropping divination and care of magical creatures anyway, aren’t I?”

Sirius laughed again, his joyful mood unable to be tainted by Harry and Lupin’s light disagreement. “Your mum got bonus points on her defense OWL for casting a corporeal patronus,” he said. “I think Snape must have too now that I think about it.”

“He did,” Lupin said. “But the patronus is an advanced spell, well past NEWT level.”

Harry’s interest was caught at the reminder of the one spell he’d never gotten the hang of.

“Have fun at dinner or whatever,” Harry said, eager to leave now there was something interesting to work on. “Ta Sirius, see ya Monday.”

Harry jogged back out of Sirius’ quarters, thinking about everything Snape told him about the patronus spell a couple of years ago.

It required a ‘truly happy memory’ and none of Harry’s had counted was the gist of it as far as Harry remembered. But third year had been a bit of a shit year, so maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to do it.

He felt a lot more in control of himself now than he had. And surely, surely, in fifteen years he’d found at least one ‘truly happy memory’.

Though, by dinner time, Harry was fuming and absolutely not happy at all.

“I need ideas,” he announced to his gang at dinner. “Tell me a time when I was happy.”

Harry still, fucking still, couldn’t get more than a large cloud of mist to come when he did his spell. He hated the patronus charm, he hated how the mist seemed to mock him as a failure.

“Why?” Ron asked curiously.

“Cause apparently my ideas aren’t happy enough for the fuckin’ patronus,” Harry sneered.

“Can’t imagine why,” Blaise said, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. “You’re such an optimistic person.”

Harry ignored Blaise and pulled his parchment and quill from his pocket. He passed it to Susan first.

“Just— will you guys just try and think of ideas and write them down? I’ve used every memory I’ve got, haven’t I? I need it to be corporeal.”

“Don’t you already get a cloud?” Theo asked, having seen Harry try it a few times the summer after third year. “That’s already very advanced.”

“I want to beat Snape,” Harry said. “Lupin said Snape did his during his OWLS and I want to too.”

Nobody looked very convinced of Harry’s argument so he tried to use an incentive instead.

“If yours works and I get an actual animal I’ll give you a bottle of firewhisky,” he said. He pat his pocket to give as much proof of its existence as he could. With Snape’s watchful gaze, and McGonagall’s eagle eyes, he wasn’t going to risk pulling it out.

It would be a pain if Sirius got fired for giving it to him when Harry did quite a bit of work to get him hired in the first place.

Fred snatched the parchment from Susan, winking at Harry as he added something to the sheet before sliding it to Draco who had his hand out.

“I don’t want your alcohol, but I am relieved you found something worthwhile to work on,” Hermione said as she added her idea.

“What’d ya think I was going to do?” Harry asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Raise the dead, purchase a country and rename it Harry-land, start an army, nothing too insane,” Hermione said with an absurd amount of seriousness.

“Well I don’t have any bodies to turn in to inferi,” Harry pointed out logically. “I don’t need a whole country, yet, cause I’ll have this one eventually, won’t I? And I’ve already got an army, the defense club.”

Only Fred, Susan, Blaise, and Luna looked nonplussed by that, everyone else had insulting looks of surprise on their faces.

“Terrifying,” Neville quipped. “It’s terrifying that Mione was kidding and you already have all those things figured out.”

“Ta,” Harry said, snatching the parchment away from Hermione once she finished writing on it. “Gotta be prepared, right?”

Nobody seemed impressed by that argument so Harry just shrugged.

Couldn’t please everyone he supposed.

Harry decided that every time his friends were busy studying for their OWLS, or Fred was working on getting inventory ready for his shop, that he would work on his patronus.

Which wound up being a bloody lot that week.

He stayed in his dorm though, not wanting to broadcast his failure for anyone else to see. He just sat quietly on the edge of his bed and moved down the list of ideas his friends wrote for him to try.

He pulled the parchment out and read it over again;

Susan- riding the ferris wheel together

Fred- our first date (or our first duel before the snake)

Draco- pranking Umbridge

Ron- winning quidditch cup third year

Luna- getting your Hogwarts letter

Neville- coming back to Hogwarts 2nd year

Blaise- dueling

Theo- Snape naming you his heir

Hermione- winning the tournament

Some of those he’d already tried, but a few were new ideas. But he dutifully made his way down the list, trying out each one.

He was losing his patience though once he got to Luna’s idea and it still didn’t work. If Luna, Fred, and Susan were all wrong, then maybe Harry just didn’t understand happiness like people thought he didn’t understand empathy or regret or sadness or fear.

Harry knew what people thought of him. He was too cold, too unemotional, too prone to violence.

He didn’t want to prove them right.

Harry inhaled slowly through his nose, pushing the air back out in an even force. He cleared his mind before looking down at the last recommendation.

Harry’s mind brought up the events that played out just a few days after the third task in the Triwizard Tournament.

Fudge had announced his name, the winner, the victor, the best of the best. Snape had given him his proud look, silently telling Harry with his eyes that Harry had done well. His friends were all at their spot at the dinner table, screaming, cheering, with huge smiles on their faces.

Dumbledore looked cold, angry in Harry’s choices, but that only served to make it an even happier memory.

”Expecto Patronum!”

Harry watched as the silver mist flew from his fingertips and finally, finally, formed a...

“What the fuck is that?” Harry laughed to himself. The odd animal was obviously a furry, four-legged, something. But damn if Harry had any idea what it was. It was kind of cute though; small as a book, only a couple feet long and barely taller than Harry’s ankles. It’s pointed face made him think of a rat, but the furry tail it had made him desperately hope it wasn’t an actual rat.

“Can you send messages?” Harry asked it eagerly, tricking himself with its lifelike beady eyes. The weird little thing just yawned at him, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

“‘Kay...” Harry frowned down at it and pulled on his magic while he tried to command it. “Go to Severus Snape, tell him: ‘It’s Harry, what animal is this?’”

It must have worked because the not-a-rat-but-not-a-dog blinked at him then scurried out of the room, passing invisibly through the wall.

Harry wondered if he could make a bunch of them, just send multiple messages at once and decided to test it out while he waited on Snape’s reply.

He sent one to Sirius with a very smug message telling him he figured it out. Then he sent one to Luna, thinking she’d like the animal, with a much nicer ‘Hi it’s Harry’ and one to Hermione telling her she was a genius and he had her prize if she wanted it.

Harry paced around the dorm after that, waiting on Snape’s reply. It took nearly twenty minutes, but finally Snape’s silver fox came running gracefully up to him.

“A Tasmanian devil, Harry. You have manifested your magic in to a Tasmanian devil. Congratulations, brat.”

Snape sounded amused, like there was something funny about Harry’s patronus. Probably the devil part, that was kind of funny considering how many people thought Harry was evil.

It hadn’t even occurred to Harry that Snape might not have replied.

Chapter Text

Wednesday March 17

“If I ever see your face again I’ll kill you!”

Barty landed in a heap on the dirty pavement in Knockturn Alley and winced as he got back on his feet.

“As if I’d want to see your greasy face again!” Barty yelled towards the shop, ignoring the bemused looks of passerby’s. He turned on his heel, his very sore heel now, and attempted to stride away with some sense of dignity.

Borgin was just as unpleasant now as he’d been before Barty was in Azkaban. Except now he was unpleasant and able to throw off the imperius curse.

“Hateful old man,” he muttered.

It had been going so well too.

Barty had shown up at the shop, his now quite infamous looks hidden with Polyjuice, and tried the ‘nice method’ of interrogating Borgin. Then Borgin refused to say a word about his ex-employee Tom Riddle so Barty moved to what was meant to be a perfect plan B, the imperio.

Barty commanded Borgin lock the shop and tell him all he knows about Riddle and the man complied. He spoke about a charming, handsome, charismatic young man. One with power and ideas. An indispensable employee who talked customers out of their beloved heirlooms for bottom of the cauldron prices.

He bragged to Borgin about his discovery of the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. Borgin said Riddle’s eyes were hungry when customers claimed to have other artifacts from the Hogwarts founders. Riddle was possessive, obsessive. Borgin thought Riddle was a thief though. Borgin suspected he was stealing clients and their goods for himself.

Before he could prove it though, Riddle quit. No notice, no explanation.

And two days later Hepzibah Smith was found dead. Poisoned by her house-elf. Hufflepuff’s Goblet and Slytherin’s Locket, the very items Borgin sent Riddle to acquire, were discovered missing.

Tom Riddle was never heard from again.

Then, because Barty was an unlucky son of a bitch, as soon as he commanded Borgin to tell him if he had any contact with Lord Voldemort, the man broke his spell and threw him out on his arse.

Barty pulled out his parchment, making note of Ravenclaw’s diadem, Hufflepuff’s cup, and Slytherin’s locket. He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed. He still had six hours until the potion he needed to for his tracking spell would be ready. Which meant the second interview he needed to complete soon would have to wait until after supper.

He turned on the spot and disapparated for home with a soft pop.

“Mister Barty! You is being home early!” Mavis was stirring something on the stove, something that smelled heavenly, and paused long enough to give Barty a smile. “Supper isn’t being finished yet, but Mavis can be making you a snack?”

“Don’t worry about it Mavis,” Barty waved him off and poured himself a glass of water. “I can wait. Thank you though.”

Barty wasn’t good with people, but he had a knack for house-elves. It probably stemmed from being raised by them, though he’d save any psychoanalysis for Remus. Even without accounting for his knack, Mavis was uncommonly easy to get along with. Barty was glad that Potter only called on him occasionally, he would be quite lonely at Spinner’s End without him.

“Did your secret appointment go bad?” Mavis asked curiously, turning his round yellow eyes back to the stove. “Mavis is being happy to help if Mister Barty is needing him.”

“That’s okay, thanks anyway Mavis.” Barty conjured a vial and removed a copy of his memory from today to store in it. “Could you just yell for me when you’re ready for supper? I might take another crack at that project.”

Mavis agreed, though he did mutter a lot under his breath about Barty’s ‘secret project’. Which, was fair. Because it was a secret and Barty had no intention of exposing the peculiar little elf to the kind of magic he was throwing around in the basement.

Barty put up as many wards as he could before he unearthed the box he had hidden within his belongings.

“Let’s see if we can’t figure you out before Friday,” Barty murmured. He pulled on his thick dragonhide gloves before grabbing the obstinate ring from its place within the box.

Barty held the ring up, watching as the light in the room sparkled off the innocent looking silver. For something so incomprehensibly evil, it looked so inconspicuous. Just a ring, a thick silver band with a heavy onyx ring in the center, and a silver carving in the jewel. It was heavy, ancient, expensive, disgusting, and was hard won.

It had been an unexpected discovery though. Barty had went to Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton to try and find any information on Timmy’s past. He’d crept around the empty manor, making copies of photos of the Riddle family and any scraps of news articles he could find. He hadn’t found much. He discovered that when Timmy had been Tom Riddle, he looked much like his father, also Tom Riddle.

The only thing of note, the thing that led him to the ring, was a small stack of deeds. They were dusty, hidden in a jewelry box in the master bedroom, and they listed ‘the Gaunt shack’ as a nearby property the Riddle’s attempted to purchase to drive out the sole occupant, Morfin Gaunt.

So Barty wandered down the lane in to the woods, his eyes peeled for anything resembling a shack. He had walked past it three times, the hairs on the back of his neck urging him to move quickly and keep his eyes on the dirt road. It was only the goosebumps on his arms that cleared away those unnatural urges and allowed him to see the shack.

Of course, once he’d detected the heady presence of dark magic his interest tripled in what secrets that little beaten down, grungy, shack had hidden inside of it.

It took him a few days of hard, meticulous work, but it was worth unraveling the many tendrils of dark magic to discover the ring, the horcrux.

And then the experiments began.

He based his early experiments on basilisk venom. Potter had wrote to him, at his carefully worded request, and talked a little bit about his encounter with the odd wraith Tom Riddle in his second year.

Potter signed the letter with: ’I’m not describing it right. Watch the memory.’

And Barty had. He’d watched Potter enter the actual honest to Merlin fabled Slytherin’s Chamber, and then choked on the air in his throat as Potter taunted Riddle.

’You have no name and I’m a national hero.’

‘We could work together you know, if you wanted to be partners. Kill Dumbledore, reshape the Wixen world.’

‘That’s a real riddle to me...’

‘Riddle me this, Tim, where’s the basilisk?’

Potter had bollocks, Barty had to give it to him.

And Potter looked like he stabbed the diary that had possessed Ginny Weasley in a fit of rage, almost a childish tantrum, but it was an excellent choice. Everything Barty had read, everything he understood about horcruxes, screamed that the diary had been one.

So he tried to mimic Potter’s actions to a lesser extent. He dripped basilisk venom, technically stolen from Sev’s private stores, on the ring, but it simply evaporated to smoke and left the ring as perfect as it had been before.

It had been the first of many trials and failures, trying to kill the horcrux without damaging the ring.

Barty pulled the parchment out of the box and refreshed his mind on the many methods he’d used to try and kill the horcrux, separate it from the ring, move it to a different object, anything. Anything at all that could kill this fragment of Timmy’s soul without ‘destroying the ring beyond magical repair’.

Because if he couldn’t accomplish it with this ring, then he’d never accomplish it with Potter. And he didn’t know how he felt about that just yet.

He knew their meeting was coming this weekend, and Potter would want to know what he had come up with in regards to Timmy’s immortality. And Barty had originally been eager to tell him of his discoveries, prove his loyalty and secure his place within this inner circle. But the more he’s experimented... his eyes trailed down his extensive (and much less than legal) experiments... the less he desired to inform Potter about it.

Potter was a fighter. Barty once thought, when Potter returned from the graveyard mostly uninjured, that Potter would outlive every last one of them. It was sobering to see that in order for Potter to continue fighting and surviving, Barty had to find a way to separate a horcrux from its host. Otherwise...

Otherwise Potter had to decide between dying for the cause, or living in a world while his enemy hunted him forever.

Barty knew Potter had plans. Plans that didn’t include death or evading Timmy for eternity.

The more he tested though, the more he experimented... the less confident he was in Potter’s bright future.

Which was both depressing and terribly stressful.

If Barty didn’t find the solution to remove the horcrux from Potter; then he might as well embrace death because he was certain Potter’s rage would be gloriously bloody.

Barty kept careful track of his current experiment, an Animism ritual based on a group of ancient Wixen from Anatolia. This group of Wixen believed that objects carried souls, an idea mocked by the general society, which led it to become both obscure and rarely discussed.

Barty didn’t mock it. How could he when he held in his hands proof of an object with a soul imbedded in it?

He carefully rearranged the candles to their precise locations, the largest candle in the western most position, before placing the horcrux ring and the normal ring in the center of the circle.

Barty pulled his wand out and checked the translated ritual spell once more.

”Obyektin ruhu.
Ruhla obyekt.
Mən səni görürəm. səni eşidirəm. sənə hörmət edirəm.
Mən ruhun obyektdən ayrılmasını xahiş edirəm.
Obyektin ruhu, ondan imtina edin.
Özünüzü yeni bir evə köçürün.”

He finished his soft chant with a high arc with his wand, the golden sparks trailing behind it proof of his accurate casting. The western candle flared, the fire flashed green, yellow, and...

Black.

“I DID IT CORRECTLY!” Barty yanked on his hair in distress at his failure. The candle was meant to flash purple before spreading to the unlit candles, a symbol of warm flames welcoming the soul to its new home. It wasn’t supposed to turn black and extinguish itself.

He snatched the onyx ring up and glared at it. “I will find a way to destroy you,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I will dig this soul from your center and kill it myself.”

The sunlight shimmered harmlessly off the ring, giving the impression of Barty going quite mad.

“Mister Barty can quit talking at himself, supper is being ready!” Mavis called from the other side of the door, only adding to the sense of Barty’s impending madness.

“To be continued,” Barty warned the ring before locking it all back up and warding the box in his hiding spot.

The horcrux situation was tricky, a true puzzle to drive him mad, but surely it couldn’t be impossible. Potter couldn’t be so unlucky to be cursed in such a way.

After enjoying his meal with Mavis, Barty went back downstairs to check on the location potion he’d been brewing.

He wouldn’t have had to if Horace Slughorn hadn’t apparently disappeared last May. His house was boarded up, his owls were rerouted, and nobody had heard from him in months.

Which was peculiar, considering the Slughorn Barty remembers was a big fan of being juuuust behind the spotlight.

Never the actor, always the director.

Regardless, if Slughorn was alive (which Barty reverently hoped he was as one of the few former professors of Tom Riddle he had access to), then this potion would find him.

He poured a ladle of the potion on a parchment before tapping it with his wand.

”Locus Horace Slughorn.”

As if the Gods above knew they owed Barty a favor, an address appeared on the parchment.

Barty raced back upstairs, informing Mavis that he’d be home in a couple of hours, then immediately drank bis customary polyjuice and popped away to the current home of Horace Slughorn.

Barty stood outside the atrocious, painfully bright, yellow house in the center of a muggle town on the outskirts of Essex and frowned.

What, on earth, was Slughorn doing in such a clichéd area of muggle-ness? Barty had never been an overt fan of the man, but certainly many of his peers had. Slughorn was a relatively well-known and well-liked former professor.

This made no sense.

Barty didn’t like the uncertainty behind Slughorn’s behavior, and he didn’t think Slughorn had any information on Timmy he hadn’t uncovered, but as his experiments had been consistently failing, it didn’t hurt to mark this off his original checklist.

Barty drew himself up tall, put an eager smile on his face, and strode confidently to Slughorn’s front door.

Knock, knock.

Barty waited patiently, an innocently bright smile still firmly on his face. He thought he saw a curtain twitch in one of the windows, but he never let his eyes wander that direction. Slughorn had to be here, the potion would have sent him elsewhere if not.

It took a few more minutes, but finally Barty heard a chain rattling on the inside of the door and it creeped open.

“Yes?”

Slughorn looked just as he had when Barty was a student, if not perhaps a bit rounder and balder. He was much shorter than the muggle that Barty was polyjuiced as, and his height was diminished greatly by his rounded stomach. His eyes were wary though, wary in a way that they never had been as a professor.

“Hello, my name is Charles Rutger, assistant editor of the Daily Prophet.” Barty offered his hand to Slughorn with a forced expression of glee. “It’s excellent to meet you sir! I’ve heard a lot about the famous Professor Slughorn from my coworkers, shame you left before we met.”

“Oh.” Slughorn straightened himself up, a smile gracing his lips now at the flattery. He pulled the door a bit wider and accepted Barty’s handshake. “You were at Hogwarts then? A Slytherin perhaps?”

“Afraid I wasn’t. I was a Ravenclaw myself,” Barty said. He knew Slughorn had favored his own students, a trait that he’s heard Sev carried on with, but he was afraid he’d falter in his story if he had to come up with more lies than necessary.

A good lie, a good cover story, had as many truths in it as possible, it made it trickier to discover the one lie.

“Well, no shame in that!” Slughorn said with a chuckle. “What can I do for you today, Mister Rutger?”

Barty pulled a parchment and quick-quotes quill from his bag, appearing bashfully excited. “Sir, we at the Daily Prophet heard that you taught the Dark Lord Barty, wondered if you wouldn’t mind giving us a story?”

It wasn’t a terrible lie to tell. And if Barty got to solve the decades old mystery of why he had never been invited to the ‘Slug Club’ despite being top of his year in grades, then so the better.

“Well...” Slughorn pulled on the collar of his tweed jacket as he leaned out the door and glanced up and down the sidewalk quickly. “Alright then, come in, come in.”

Barty stepped smartly over the threshold, following Slughorn in to the obviously muggle household.

He didn’t know a practicing witch or wizard alive with this many electronics.

“Have a seat,” Slughorn pointed towards the sleekly designed sitting room as the whistle of a kettle sounded. “Can I get you some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Barty made himself comfortable in the plush chair situated in front of the muggle telly. He carefully, and purposefully, rearranged his parchment on his lap, intending to play the part of eager reporter to the best of his abilities. He also palmed the enchanted dropper of veritaserum carefully to ensure none leaked out too soon.

He wasn’t taking any chances on Slughorn resisting as Borgin eventually had.

“Well! What questions did you have for me?” Slughorn smiled indulgently as he returned to the sitting room. He cheerily levitated the tea tray to the coffee table and sat himself on the floral sofa across from Barty. “Filius was Crouch’s head of house, as I’m sure you know, so I may be as unhelpful as dragonpox!”

Queer thing to say considering dragonpox was considered a sure fire way to boost a wixen’s immune system and strengthen them against a various amount of diseases... but no matter.

“Nonsense,” Barty smiled disarmingly, careful with his flattery, “Filius said you were the one who kept a close eye on any up and coming students. Helped guide them along, he said. Surely a young man destined to the level of infamy Crouch reached was at least a blip on your radar?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Slughorn chuckled, a nervous hint to it, as he poured Barty a cup of tea. “Crouch wasn’t someone I can say I ever saw becoming so powerful, dark and disturbing of course,” he said hastily, “but this level of fame and power? No, no I didn’t see this coming at all.”

“Hmm.” Barty sipped his tea, allowing Slughorn time to pour himself a cup as he processed the blatant insults. “There weren’t any signs then? No hint of the wizard he’d become?”

“None,” Slughorn said, frowning in thought. “I’m afraid I must have been quite off the mark that year. Severus Snape was in Barty’s year, they were good friends you know, and he’s become quite the idol hasn’t he? And darn if I ever saw past the quiet kid with the dark inclinations and penchant for fights.”

“Really?” Barty leaned forward, hoping to appear eager. “Could I get a quote from you about the friendship between the two boys then? Just something to add some interest to my article.”

“I dunno...” Slughorn chuckled nervously again, his dark eyes tightening around the edges. “I wouldn’t want to upset Severus or put myself on Crouch’s radar, I’ve heard he’s working with a group of Death Eater’s now.”

“Oh of course sir,” Barty agreed sagely, sensing the Dark Lord Barty angle was a missed topic with the man. “Maybe something simple then? Or perhaps a note saying that Professor Horace Slughorn was Severus Snape’s Head of House and believes he’s become quite successful? Between you and me,” Barty leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “I’d rather just write about Snape anyway. Maybe if I had some good quotes to share then my editor won’t push for the Crouch article.”

“Wonderful!” Slughorn sat his teacup down and smiled, eager to paint himself in a good light to the now popular pupil he didn’t care for when Severus and Barty were his students. “Yes that sounds like just the ticket then Rutger! I could tell you all about Severus’ talent for potions, his friendship with Harry Potter’s mother Lily, and his creativity! That boy revolutionized wolfsbane you know!”

“Perfect.” Barty returned his smile, reaching over Slughorn’s teacup for his parchment as he spoke with a sense of excitement. “Would you say Severus was an average student? A promising one?”

Barty squeezed the dropper as his hand passed Slughorn’s cup, successfully dropping three drops in the teacup with the man none the wiser.

Barty had to patiently wait as Slughorn weaved poets about Severus, what an excellent student he was, how intelligent, how creative... as if he had not just minutes ago called him a ‘quiet kid with dark inclinations’. He dutifully made notes, encouraging Slughorn to share as much as he wanted.

Finally, finally, when Barty thought he may have an aneurysm from the blatant lies Slughorn told him (‘top of his year’, as if. Barty beat Severus in every NEWT aside from potions), Slughorn paused his ravings long enough to sip his tea.

The effect was instantaneous.

Slughorn’s face flashed with betrayal before his eyes glazed over, his jaw hung slack, and his fingers lost their grip on the tea cup that went crashing to the beige carpet.

“Did you teach Tom Riddle?” Barty asked immediately, testing the hold of the potion with the question Slughorn would be least inclined to answer.

“Yes,” Slughorn murmured, his voice free of any affect.

“You were his head of house?”

“Yes.”

“Why have you been hiding?” Barty asked curiously.

“I heard whispers that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, I was worried he’d come after me.”

Barty couldn’t imagine what Timmy would want with his old school teacher, but the man had attempted to murder an infant so perhaps it was a fair worry. He pulled out his parchment, preparing to record Slughorn’s responses. “Tell me about Tom Riddle when he was a student.”

“He was brilliant,” Slughorn said flatly. “I’ve never had a student as in tune with his magic as Tom. A charming boy with a tragic past, every Professor in Hogwarts, aside from Albus, adored him.”

“Were there ever any incidents where Riddle was painted as less than perfect?” Barty pressed, needing any information aside from what he already knew.

“A few.” Slughorn’s head rolled upwards, his dull eyes meeting Barty’s. “Nothing could be proven, I thought at the time that it was jealousy, just rumors to taint the greatest student Hogwarts had ever seen.”

“At the time?” Barty asked, his quill ready to transcribe. “When did you change your mind?”

“Tom’s seventh year,” Slughorn said. “He became immersed in dark magic. He could have been the next Minister of Magic, but I hoped he wouldn’t. Something changed. Some fundamental shift.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I think Tom damaged his soul.”

Barty’s head snapped up to meet Slughorn’s gaze so quickly he felt a muscle in his neck pull. “Tell me why you think Tom damaged his soul.”

He hadn’t expected this. Truly, all his recent breaks were lucky ones.

“In Tom’s seventh year, he asked me what a horcrux was, if I knew how to make it, and if I thought a person could split their soul seven times.”

“Seven?” Barty was flabbergasted.

“He thought seven was the strongest magical number,” Slughorn murmured.

“Incredible,” Barty breathed.

If it weren’t for the continuing glazed look in Slughorn’s eyes and the flat way he spoke, Barty would almost consider the man was lying.

He’d assumed Timmy made multiple horcruxes, but seven? To tear your soul even once was a thought so disturbing it churned his stomach, seven times was unthinkable.

It was magic so cursed Barty knew Timmy had to be extraordinarily powerful to achieve it.

Barty interviewed Slughorn for another thirty five minutes, gleaming as much information on Tom Riddle as he could, no matter how innocuous. Right before his time wore out, as a spark of intellect lit in Slughorn’s eyes, Barty solved one more mystery.

“Why did you never ask Barty Crouch Junior to join the Slug Club?”

It didn’t matter, hadn’t mattered since he graduated, but he never understood it when he was a student.

“Barty was smart, but I despised his father. Crouch Senior was a pompous upstart with a large mouth and ignorant ideals.”

Yeah. It made sense that Barty hadn’t been able to escape his fathers legacy even in that one small aspect of his life.

“You’ve been very helpful,” Barty told him genuinely. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you share what you know with anyone else.”

Slughorn hardly had time to blink in acknowledgment before Barty obliviated not only his visit with him today, but as many memories of Tom Riddle as Slughorn had. Especially, and most importantly, his knowledge of the seven horcruxes.

“You look tired.”

Barty forced a weak grin in the face of Remus’ Gryffindor-like bluntness. “It’s been a long few days,” he admitted.

Truthfully, he had stayed up the entire night last night after returning home, abusing Pepper-Up Potion as he tried in vain to find ways to separate the horcrux from the host.

Potter, Sev, and Theodore would be returning tomorrow, all of them meeting at Invisibility Way for the Easter break and alliance meeting on Saturday.

And Barty was no closer to giving any answers that would end in anything aside from absolute bloodshed.

It had been a relief to get Remus’ invite to tea at Moon Lodge. Merlin knew that Barty needed a break from the horcrux problem. And Remus was good company, especially without Sirius’ constant smile and looks, so similar to Reg’s to twinge Barty’s heart, popping in every so often with a joke or a question.

Remus currently had parchments spread across the dining table, his attention diverted from the budgeting he was implementing within the wolf house as they chatted.

“Anything I can help you with?” Remus asked politely.

Barty sighed, giving him a more genuine smile of appreciation. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’m just caught up in my mission, I’m sure you can understand.”

“Oh can I,” Remus chuckled. “Some days I think you might have gotten the easy job from Harry. Managing a household without Sirius’ help on top of school and everything else? It’s a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Barty smirked. He was certain Remus wouldn’t want to trade lots with him if he knew of the difficulties Barty faced.

There were possibilities of rewards so insurmountably high if he could figure it out, but the risk of not finding a solution was much higher.

He almost resented his mission. He would for sure if it weren’t the most complex and intriguing puzzle he’d ever been handed.

The two of them chatted amicably, discussing various articles in recent papers, political changes within the ministry. Remus shared his recent engagement, assuring Barty that he would be invited to the wedding in the upcoming summer. Barty talked a little about his newfound appreciation for the muggle electronics within the libraries he frequented when Spinner’s End became too stifled.

Some of the occupants of Wolf Lodge popped in occasionally, all of them long used to Barty’s presence and greeted him kindly. Most of them appeared tired, reminding Barty that the full moon had only been a few days ago.

“Where do you run during the full moon?” Barty asked Remus curiously as the overtly-friendly house-elf Dobby brought them warm biscuits.

“We stay in the forest around Easky Lough,” Remus told him after thanking Dobby kindly. “The younger cubs are more comfortable there and there’s plenty of room for us all to run and stretch. The wolfsbane keeps us from wandering too close to any muggle villages.”

“Incredible,” Barty said. “And the baby? Still no idea of her future?”

“None.” Remus shrugged lightly. “We are all just watching and waiting.”

They discussed more of the pack for a while, Remus had gotten to know them all quite well and they seemed to look up to him as a leader. Though, Ricardo Lobo, little Tony’s father, was the official leader of his pack.

An earned title as apparently Ricardo allowed his son to bite him, inviting the lycanthropy in to himself, in an effort to give his son a father who was able to understand his life.

It was unconventional, but from the look in Remus’ eyes when he shared that, Barty wasn’t alone in wishing he had a father half as dedicated to him as little Tony had.

After the two of them cleared their second tray of biscuits, Barty reluctantly got to his feet with a heavy yawn.

“Thanks for the invite Remus, but I should get going,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do before this weekend...”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?” Remus offered again, his amber eyes soft.

“If you happen to find the lost diadem of Ravenclaw or Slytherin’s locket then just let me know,” Barty said with a wry smile. “Other than that—,”

Clang!

Remus and Barty both turned towards the kitchen doorway, the metallic noise drawing their immediate attention.

“Dobby? Everything okay?” Remus called.

Dobby poked his head out and shook his head at Remus. “Kreacher is being clumsy,” he squeaked out. “Kreacher is spilling an entire bowl of squash and Dobby is thinking Kreacher did it on purposes.”

“Kreacher is not doing it on purpose,” Kreacher snarled, joining Dobby in the doorway. Kreacher glared out at Barty, apparently still unhappy with him for ‘betraying Master Regulus for nasty Master Sirius’.

An unfair and terribly hurtful accusation he slung at Barty the second time he’d came for dinner with the pack.

“That’s alright Kreacher, thank you for helping Dobby make supper,” Remus said with an admirable amount of patience considering Kreacher spends his free time slinging insults at Remus.

Sure enough...

“Kreacher is not wanting the disgusting half-breed to speak at him,” he muttered. “Kreacher is being ready to be beheaded if he must continue to serve the half-breeds.”

“SUPPER WILL BE BEING DONE SOON,” Dobby yelled, attempting to cover Kreacher’s dark words with his own cheer. “Will Barty be staying?”

“I can’t, thank you though.”

Dobby was a weird elf, but Barty liked him nearly as much as he liked Mavis. And he liked him equally to how much he used to like Kreacher.

“I better be going,” he said again. He pulled his cloak on and nodded at Remus. “Thanks for the tea and conversation, suppose I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Remus chuckled. “Try and get some sleep Barty.”

Barty tilted his head in acknowledgment of his words, if not compliance. He wouldn’t be sleeping with a deadline this close; Potter expected answers by Saturday and he still had the worst question unanswered.

“Goodbye Dobby, Kreacher.”

Kreacher startled everyone as he abruptly lunged forward, grabbing Barty’s cloak and pulling himself up to Barty’s side.

“Kreacher will be showing Barty to the door as a proper house-elf is doing,” he said in his raspy croak.

Barty and Remus exchanged a surprised look, but Barty just smiled down at Kreacher’s bald and wrinkled head. “Thank you Kreacher,” he said genuinely. “Lead the way then.”

Kreacher shot a last glare at Remus and Dobby before leading Barty to the front door and pulling it open for him.

“Well... thanks again Kreacher,” Barty said, lingering in the open doorway. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

If he was expecting a verbal response, he was doomed to disappointment. Instead of saying anything, Kreacher just shoved him unceremoniously out to the front steps before stepping on the steps himself and pulling the door shut behind them.

“Kreacher is not trusting Barty since he is betraying the Dark Lord,” Kreacher said in a harsh whisper. “But Kreacher is hearing that Barty is being the new Dark Lord.”

“Well... that is what some people say,” Barty said, weighing his words with care. His interest was undeniably captured by Kreacher’s curious behavior. He wasn’t sure which angle was best to play, which meant it was safer to remain ambiguous for now.

Kreacher twisted his fingers, his eyes narrowing as he glared up distrustfully at Barty.

“Barty is still being a friend to my Master Regulus?” he finally whispered.

“I am,” Barty assured him. It didn’t matter if Reg had left them, Barty forgave Sev and he would do the same for Reg if he were still here.

Kreacher stared in Barty’s eyes a long time before he finally nodded. “Kreacher is knowing where the locket you is wanting is,” he said. “Kreacher is knowing whose locket it is and knowing it is dark magic.”

Barty wondered if he’d recently, unknowingly, ingested Felix Felicis. He couldn’t imagine how else he’s stumbled on to so many lucky breaks otherwise.

Not that he’d admit they were lucky when he informed Potter of his discoveries though. If he wanted to move up in the ranks then he would present all of this information as due reward of his own diligence.

... if he found a way to remove the horcrux from Potter or kill it without killing the young man.

He quite enjoyed living.

“Kreacher, can you tell me everything you know about that locket?” Barty asked the elf. “It’s very important. Please?”

“Mister Barty is needing to promise Kreacher something first, he is needing to swear it,” Kreacher demanded. “Mister Barty is needing to swear that he will be killing the locket as soon as he can, he will be needing to swear to finish Master Regulus’ work.”

Barty looked down in Kreacher’s bulbous eyes and nodded curtly.

“I swear. I will kill it.”

Kreacher glanced around them, ensuring their privacy, then pulled Barty to the floor in a sitting position.

“Kreacher was minding his business one day, cleaning my Mistresses house, and then Master Regulus comes to him, and he says, ‘the Dark Lord is needing an elf’...”

An hour later, Barty was back in Spinner’s End, his mind whirling as he frantically dug through crates of cursed artifacts in Sev’s office.

Regulus sacrificed himself in an effort to bring down Timmy.

He’d been a traitor, turned his back on Timmy, just as they’d been told... but took the horcrux as one final ‘fuck you’.

It was heartbreaking.

Inspiring.

And the horcrux had been here the whole time. ‘Stolen’, according to Kreacher’s point of view, from Grimmauld Place by Sirius last summer and sent along to Barty.

He shuddered to imagine where it might be had he not complained of books being destroyed as Dumbledore took over the Black family home.

Once he found the locket, looking as equally innocent as the ring hidden within his room did, he noticed his hand was shaking badly enough to rattle the thick silver chain.

This locket represented so much:

Regulus, turning his back on Timmy and doing it alone. Discovering the secret alone. Dying alone.

Timmy’s desire to evade death and his blatant lack of regard for house-elves leading to one step of his downfall.

It also represented the ring hidden away, the ring with the uncrackable code. A code that could save Potter’s life if Barty could uncover it.

But Barty had made a swear, and he intended on keeping it.

He placed the locket on Sev’s desk and took a few steps backwards. His voice was tight, his vocal chords strained as he sent the green light directly at the center of the locket.

”Avada Kedavra.”

Barty was breathing harshly as he stared down at the smoldering locket. He didn’t have to run any spells to know that the horcrux was gone. The silver locket was blackened, dead, destroyed beyond magical repair.

He didn’t feel any sense of relief.

He couldn’t.

What was he going to tell Potter this weekend?

Chapter Text

Saturday March 20

“If that doorbell rings one more time I will blow this entire house up,” Severus threatened as the bell charm rang on Potter’s safe house again.

Ronald Weasley leapt up to greet whichever new member arrived and returned moments later with the Weasley that Severus assumes is George. An easy assumption, considering Frederick has not used the front door of any residence of Potter’s in nearly two years.

“It’s probably going to go off again soon sir, we’re still waiting on quite a few people,” Granger warned Severus. “Fleur and Bill, Johnny, I think Viktor—”

“He doesn’t care babe,” Theodore said quietly from behind a thick novel in his seat between Granger and Potter’s empty chair. “He just wants to go back and hide in his lab.”

As Theodore was not incorrect, Severus did not respond. He did wish to be hidden in the lab that Potter set up for his sole use, and, barring that desire, it would at least be more tolerable if there were a single other adult present.

Narcissa was staying with them for the week, spending the time with her child, but she was ‘preparing herself’ in her and Draco’s room.

Barty had yet to do more than greet them distractedly when they arrived yesterday morning before disappearing in to his room. As he had appeared distinctly distracted and exhausted, Severus had not bothered him.

Instead, he kept his mind on his tea as Potter’s friends talked amongst themselves. Potter himself was late for lunch and pushing the clock for this inane meeting, which was a surprise. Granger had assured him that Potter was in his room though, so at least there would be one tolerable child present aside from Theodore and Draco. He would not have put it past Potter to simply disappear and skip the meeting altogether.

Severus had suffered through quite an invasion of Potter’s friends on Friday as they shuffled belongings and furniture around and settled in to the rooms Potter designated to them.

And damn if Potter didn’t look like the cat that got the canary as he helped his friends move in for the week.

It was difficult to remain angry with the brat when Potter looked as if sharing a safe house with his friends was his one true wish in life.

Not that Severus had been able to maintain his cold distance from Potter for more than two weeks regardless. He had already been quite close to calling on Potter for one of their sorely missed breakfasts, when the brat sent him a patronus.

Severus had been relieved to be alone when he received it as the startled laugh that escaped him in the face of a damned Tasmanian devil had been quite uncharacteristic.

It had been simple to reopen the line of communication between Potter and himself through their patronus messages, simple yet when they had breakfast together that next weekend and Potter agreed to Severus’ only request their feud was entirely put aside.

’I will admit that Dolores’ death does not bother me as much as your decision to not turn to me first and allow me the opportunity to handle it.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why d’you want to handle things if I can do it myself?’ Potter clarified.

‘Because you are the child, Harry. You are my ward and I would appreciate it in the future if you allowed me to act as your guardian,’ Severus told him.

‘So just get you next time I’m planning to kill a teacher?’ Potter’s tone was mocking, but his guileless eyes were squinted with confusion.

‘Precisely,” Severus said. He had dabbed any crumbs from his toast off his face and smirked at Potter. ‘Perhaps send me your devil ghost (as Potter laughingly referred to his patronus) the next time you are plotting a murder.’

Potter had laughed, agreed (‘if he remembers in the moment’), and they dropped the subject.

Severus had prioritized Potter’s mental health over his moral shortcomings years ago. As he was unable to go back in time and change his decisions, he decided to forge forward and pray to every God who cared to listen that Potter would reach adulthood before he saw the inside of Azkaban.

Of course, as Potter trailed in to the dining room with bloodshot and weary eyes, Severus wondered if he had looked past the child’s mental health as he allowed him to spend his short holiday planning for a war.

“Tea darlin?” Frederick asked, having entered the room alongside Potter.

“‘M fine,” Potter waved him off and slumped down in his seat at the head of the table, directly across from Severus.

“You look like shit,” Bones said bluntly. She poured a glass of water from the pitcher and gave it to Potter. “Headache again?”

“Yep.” Potter’s tone was clipped, but the curve in his shoulders was defensive.

“How long have you been suffering from headaches?” Severus asked. He summoned a pain reliever and levitated it to the child as he awaited a response.

“Couple of months,” Potter said nonchalantly. He raised the potion vial before throwing it back and wincing. “I’ve been nicking potions for it. But they’d probably work better if Timmy wasn’t driving me completely mad.”

Frederick, Theodore, and Granger gave Potter sympathetic looks; Severus was not so similarly empathetic.

“When you say that, in such a pointed manner, I find myself curious as to who that last part was aimed at.”

He had not forgotten the night that Potter admitted to conversing with the Dark Lord through their unexplainable mental link.

“I was telling Timmy,” Potter said casually. He looked around the table and frowned. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They still have thirty minutes,” Zabini told him. He handed Frederick the plate of sandwiches that Mavis provided them. “Mother won’t arrive until last moment. She adores the theatrics of it and despises small talk.”

An understandable concept.

Though Severus was not to be distracted at present.

“Why are you speaking with the Dark Lord?” he asked Potter. “Was the point of Occlumency not to keep him from accessing your mind?”

“The point of Occlumency was so I could sleep,” Potter said. “And if he’d leave me alone then I wouldn’t be bothering him, would I?”

Yes. He probably would. Potter was a nuisance to his friends, Severus couldn’t imagine being an adversary to the brat.

Severus was about to demand that Potter quit provoking the Dark Lord when the blasted chimes went off again.

“I’ll get it,” Longbottom offered quickly.

“It’s probably Sirius,” Potter said. He snagged a sandwich off Bones’ plate and nibbled absently on the edge of it. “Oh! Sev! Guess what?”

Severus raised a brow, silently refusing to ‘guess’. Knowing Potter it was likely something outrageous. He did just admit to mentally irritating the Dark Lord in his free time.

“Sirius asked me to be his best man this summer.” Potter puffed his chest out, preening at what had been a foregone conclusion. “I’m wearing a bow tie.”

“Congratulations,” Severus told him drily. “Do try and leave the fleas at the wedding.”

“Rude thing to say about your friend,” Potter said slyly as the other children laughed at Severus’ genuine remark.

“The mutt is not my—,”

“Hey mate.”

Even Longbottom and Lovegood lost their composure as Black himself interrupted Severus with a cheery greeting as he entered the dining room ahead of Longbottom and Lupin.

“I will return when this ridiculous farce is beginning.” Severus got to his feet and swept away for the staircase.

“It’s not a farce!” Potter yelled at his back amidst his snickering friends.

Severus ignored the child as he passed Narcissa and Draco, both of whom raised surprised blonde brows at him but had the basic manners to not comment on it.

Severus rapped his knuckles sharply on Barty’s door. “May I come in?”

“Just a minute!” Barty yelled. “Hold on please! Don’t come in!”

Peculiar.

Though Barty had always been an eccentric and intelligent person before Azkaban. It was heartening to know that Severus could once more see fragments of the personality Barty once had. ‘Displeased’ was putting it mildly when Potter initially discovered Barty and immediately moved to recruit him, though Severus was grateful for it now.

If nothing else, Barty offered a stabilizing adult presence to what was quickly devolving in to an utter madhouse.

“Sev, hey.”

Had Severus just thought that Barty offered stability to his life?

He was wrong.

“Are you feeling alright?” Severus asked slowly.

Barty was incredibly disheveled. His top was wrinkled with a stain on the chest and untucked. His blonde hair was similarly messy, standing up at odd angles as if he had ran his fingers through it frequently. And Severus had never, in twenty-four years, seen Barty with a shadow of stubble across his face.

“Fine, fine. Is it time now?” Barty asked. He stuck his head out the door and sent his blue eyes flicking around the empty hallway behind Severus.

“I believe you still have twenty minutes,” Severus told him. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Yes, just busy. I’ll be down in a bit.”

And then the door was closed quite abruptly in Severus’ face.

Perhaps Potter’s unique brand of madness and poor manners was contagious.

By the time Severus returned downstairs, with less than five minutes to spare, the dining table had been expanded and was packed.

Severus greeted Lucius, who was seated to his right, and shook his head at the irony of Potter inviting a once devoted Death Eater to a meeting at his safe house. Though, as Severus was the secret-keeper, Potter likely had no reason to fear any untoward actions from Lucius.

“How are you Severus?” Lucius asked as Severus took his seat.

“As well as can be expected,” Severus drawled. “And you?”

“The same,” Lucius said. His hand was clasped with Narcissa’s on the tables surface. Both had on masks of polite boredom, though Severus could see the evidence of prior tears in the corners of Narcissa’s eyes.

Severus imagined that despite the Malfoy’s insistence that they were content with their current accommodations, it must be weighing on them to be so divided.

“Wotcher Sev.” Nymphadora smiled at him from his right side. “How’d you manage to get this week off? I heard Flitwick said he had to stay to watch his students.”

“Minerva owed me a favor,” Severus said with a pointed look at Black who was seated next to Nymphadora. Black missed his remark though as he was leaning across Lupin to whisper quietly with Barty.

Severus made a quick account of Potter’s motley crew of alliance members.

There were an abundance of red-heads who had not been present at the last meeting. William, Charles, and George had apparently sworn in after the death of their father. The entire Weasley group was seated alongside Frederick who was in his place beside Bones; a clear indication of whose opinion Potter seeks first during these meetings.

Severus was unsure whether Frederick had eclipsed Miss Lovegood in some regard, or if the young witch sat next to Draco and his parents due to their continuing courtship.

Potter’s foreign allies, Juliana Zabini, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum, sat together beside the Weasley’s. The Contessa Zabini seemed pleased to carry along a fast paced conversation in French with Delacour while Krum rapped his knuckles on the table in what seemed to be boredom.

The auror Abbott and Hit Wizard Ritter’s were seated beside Lovegood, both solemn faced and silent. Longbottom and Granger were beside them, leaving Theodore to sit beside Potter.

It was baffling to visually account for the vast amount of people who are considered to be Potter’s inner circle of allies.

“Read Harry?” Granger asked Potter. She handed him a stack of parchment at his nod.

It was nearly amusing that the only meticulous notes Potter bothered to take were the ones for his meetings. Severus had never seen Potter write with such care before, and he graded the child’s essays and homework for the last five years.

Potter got to his feet and cleared his throat pointedly. The tired look on his face dissipated as he looked around the room with baleful eyes.

“Before we start, I wanted to let you guys know that Dumbledore is looking for someone to spy on me for him.”

Severus’ brows rose high on his forehead.

Potter was exceptionally bad at sharing information of importance with Severus.

“If he asks any of you then you should let me know as soon as you can, yeah?” Potter kept his eyes continuously moving amongst the others until Lupin coughed lightly.

“He asked me,” Lupin said. “Technically, he asked me if I would ask Sirius about your activities, but all the same. I told him I would to keep our cover within the order, but I haven’t told him anything.”

“He stopped me in the corridors before he was fired and asked if I saw you doing ‘anything suspicious’ if I’d tell him instead of Snape,” Nymphadora said.

Proving that she was not exempt at making poor choices over communication.

Severus had grown used to the witch showing up at his office after hours, typically with a drink and chips, and sharing an hour or two of conversation once a week or so. Now that she no longer bothers him to go out for drinks, her company is not entirely unbearable. She had a keen mind for magical theory and was more than happy to discuss different popular theories with him then either decimate or defend the theory regardless of Severus’ opinion.

Yet, apparently, in all that time she had not found it prudent to disclose that Albus approached her for notes on Potter’s behavior.

“Well if he asks again then don’t say a word,” Potter said flatly. “I don’t want him knowing when I use the loo, ‘kay?”

“Why not use that opportunity to feed falsehoods to him?” Lucius suggested. “You could lead him astray, have him believe you are plotting one thing and leave him open for attack from another angle.”

Blaise Zabini and Theodore were nodding along with Lucius, though Potter glanced towards Ronald and raised a brow in a silent question that none aside from the two of them were apparently privy to.

“I dunno mate,” Ronald said slowly. “Got a lot of ways it can go wrong, doesn’t it? Say he figures out he’s being lied to, then he knows at least one person in his order isn’t faithful.

It was a reasonable flaw to point out. What Harry must have found unreasonable was the look of surprise on William and Charles’ faces.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” William held his hands up innocently and smiled. “Just weird hearing Ronnie give out political advice.”

“Give out good political advice,” Charles corrected him.

“Ron’s been in the gang since the day it started,” Potter said coolly. He sat back down and quirked a brow at the eldest Weasley brothers. “He outranks you. Ron’s a... a corporal, you’re both privates.”

“Who taught Potter what military ranks are?” Severus groaned while Ronald smirked at his brothers.

“It might have came up in class one day,” Black said thoughtfully.

“Professor Black was discussing the magical influence in World War II and Harry—,”

“Immediately ranked us all,” Draco interrupted Granger with his own exasperated sigh.

“It’s a war, isn’t it?”

“Is it not,” the Contessa corrected Potter with a fond tone.

“Moving on,” Severus said lightly.

He wondered sometimes how Potter’s meetings would go if he were not here to guide it back to task. Granted, he had accidentally derailed the conversation this time, but the last thing Potter needed was an examination of muggle war tactics.

“So, what d’you think then?” Potter asked Severus. “Tell Dumbledore something fake or just tell him nothing?”

“Nothing,” Severus said. “Albus is quite able to differentiate truths from lies from those unskilled at occlumency. It is better to say nothing.”

“That’s that then,” Potter said with a sense of finality. “If anyone tells him what I’m doing then you’re out.” Potter read something off his list then cocked his head towards Black and Lupin. “Anything else from the Order?”

“Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Albus all think you’re some sort of evil Dark Lord in the making,” Black scoffed.

“That’s old news,” Abbott said, exchanging a look with Ritters. “Shacklebolt figures you’re behind a couple murders.”

“He specifically believes that Umbridge’s death is somehow on your hands,” Ritters added.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was always too smart for his own good.

“Any proof?” Potter asked, ignoring Theodore’s minute wince.

“‘Gut feeling’,” Abbott said with an inappropriate smile. “I bet you did it, but since there’s no proof then...”

“No proof, no crime,” Potter quipped with a smirk for Abbott before turning back to Black and Lupin. “Any idea where Dumbledore is now?”

“No,” Lupin answered this time. “He appears for meetings then disappears. He won’t tell us where he’s staying.”

Bones muttered something unflattering, undoubtedly disappointed in their lack of information.

“And you Mister Malfoy?” Granger asked Lucius politely. “Anything new from the Death Eaters?”

“The Dark Lord’s obsession with Potter has drastically increased since the beginning of November,” Lucius said bluntly. “He outright refuses to disclose what has built his obsession with you—,”

“You absolute, reckless moron,” Severus interrupted Lucius with a sharp reprimand at his idiot ward. The Contessa and Bones made noises of disapproval at his tone, though they were easily drowned out in Severus’ worry. “That is when you began mentally taunting him, was it not?”

“Might have been,” Potter shrugged carelessly. “Who cares?”

“Who...” Severus was not the only one staring at Potter in disbelief. ”’Who cares?’ Harry! You should not strive to be an obsession of the Dark Lords!”

“Excuse me sir,” Lovegood smiled at him from beside Draco before Potter had a chance to brush his concern off again. “It’s just that it’s not really all that different than before, is it? Harry and Timmy are tied together, they’ll always be obsessed with each other.”

“That could hurt a blokes feelings,” Frederick winked at Potter.

“I don’t see what’s funny here,” William said, proving why he was the least intolerable of the Weasley’s. “Harry, mate, you don’t want You-Know-Who more pissed.”

“Who?” Bones blinked innocently at William. “You mean Timmy?”

“Luna’s right though,” Lupin interrupted the disagreement between Bones and William. “Timmy will always be obsessed with Harry, I don’t see anything Harry could do to make it better.”

“That’s a far cry from Harry purposefully making it worse though,” Nymphadora said, proving she possesses a modicum of intellect.

This broke out in to a cascade of comments that were genuinely causing Severus to regret not bringing a drink to the meeting. Surprisingly, Theodore felt similarly.

“SHUT UP!” Theodore roared, instantly silencing the others. “Harry, can you make a new rule? Only one bloody person talks during meetings at a time.”

“Done,” Potter agreed immediately. “And since I’m not gonna stop calling Timmy a noseless dick, since that’s what he is, then this is pointless, isn’t it? Malfoy,” Potter turned back to Lucius, “what else?”

“The escaped prisoners are staying at the manor,” Lucius nearly grimaced at the statement. “I believe they have no immediate plans on relocating.”

“Good,” Zabini nodded. “Then we know where they are.”

“Why do ze aurors not go arrest zem?” Delacour asked. “We ‘ave aurors here zat could do zis, yes?”

“No.” Narcissa and the Contessa spoke at the same time before smiling politely at one another.

“It would put Lucius at risk,” the Contessa said. “He could be killed during a raid by either side, it is safest to leave the aurors out of it.”

Potter winked at Longbottom, which did not bode well in Severus’ opinion.

“Anything else?” Potter asked Lucius.

“The Dark Lord has declared you to not be harmed by his followers, only captured and brought to him if the opportunity arises.”

“Sweet of him,” Frederick muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Are there official plans to ambush Harry?” Black asked Lucius, his eyes narrowed and cautious.

“There are not,” Lucius said. “The Dark Lord wants the prophecy before he moves against Potter.”

“He’ll be dead before he gets the prophecy,” Theodore said.

“He will also be dead before he touches a hair on my Meraviglia,” the Contessa said with a beautiful smile that fooled no one.

“Speaking of which...” Bones, Theodore, and Potter turned to Barty in one simultaneous movement. “Where are we on figuring out how to kill him?” Bones asked him, raising her brows and looking remarkably like Amelia at the gesture.

Barty fidgeted under the expectorant gazes of the others and looked at Potter with an apology clear as could be in his light blue eyes.

“I need more time,” he said hesitantly. “It’s... it’s trickier than I thought.”

“What’s so tricky about it?” Theodore demanded. “What have you even done so far?”

Barty bristled at Theodore’s harsh tone. He drew himself up indignantly and glared at the boy. “More than you could possibly imagine,” he said brusquely.

“Such as?” Bones asked.

“Such as learning every single thing about him that I can,” Barty said. “I could quite likely tell you his favorite color if you wanted it.”

“I’m not sure how his favorite color will help kill him, but we’ll keep that in mind,” Frederick said with a half-smile.

Barty opened his mouth, as is to defend himself, before glancing at Potter’s cold mask of indifference and deflated.

“I’ll have more information soon,” he swore. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Kay, well, then let’s discuss it the first meeting this summer, yeah? I need you to either figure it out or let Snape do it.”

Severus was not internally preening at Potter’s confidence that he could succeed where Barty had failed. That would be absurd.

“Speaking of this summer...” Narcissa smiled at Potter. “Draco informed me that we will be residing here?”

“Er...” Potter glanced at Severus before nodding. “Yeah, I thought it might be easiest if everyone’s here. Especially if some of us are breaking in to the Manor and killing at least Bellatrix and Nagini.”

“You’re doing what?” Black sputtered.

All eyes were on Potter now, except for Severus, who was glaring at the ceiling and willing his eyelid to quit twitching.

Let Black handle this, Severus told himself. I cannot be expected to talk Potter out of all of his insane plots.

“I think he’s speaking English,” Ronald said lightly as Potter and Black had a silent stare off. “It’s a war, sometimes you have to be proactive.”

“You sure as hell aren’t,” William said baldly. “You guys are kids, you can’t go breaking in places and murdering escaped convicts.”

“Not alone.”

Clearly Black was incapable of handling anything.

And Minerva trusted this fool with students.

“Excuse me?” Severus asked Black, his soft voice silencing the others. “‘Not alone’? You approve of this?”

“Nope.” Black folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back casually. “But it’s Harry, he’s going to do it anyway, isn’t he? I suppose if I go with him then at least someone’s watching his back.”

Point, Mutt.

“What we need, is a task force...” Bones said slowly, her eyes locked on Abbott, who nodded.

“How many Death Eaters are at the manor at any given time?” Abbott asked Lucius.

“A dozen, give or take. Which hardly accounts for the Dark Lord himself who tends to spend half his time there and half his time in an unknown location.”

“Could you tell us when Timmy isn’t there?” Nymphadora asked Lucius. “If we set up a block of time, say a week, could you alert us when he leaves?”

“If Potter shows his face then we will be expected to summon him,” Lucius said, his boot brushing Severus’ food beneath the table. “Perhaps a task force without him would be safest.”

Severus decided that Lucius could be forgiven for his inappropriate birthday gift he gave Potter last summer. Potter was going to refuse to stay behind, but it was a much appreciated bit of cunning to entice him regardless.

“Or Potter goes in polyjuice,” Potter smirked. “There is that.”

“You have a very distinguished way of speaking, my Meraviglia,” the Contessa said fondly.

“Not to mention it’ll be a dead giveaway when you’re the only bloke throwing around silent and wandless curses,” Charles pointed out logically.

If only logic worked on Potter.

“Details we can work out later,” Potter waved them off before tilting his head towards Bones and whispering fiercely for a few moments.

“Alright, volunteers for this Task Force?” Bones asked.

Black, Lupin, all five Weasley’s, Delacour, Longbottom, Nymphadora, Abbott, Bones, and Theodore raised their hands.

Granger gave Theodore a very unhappy look before she raised her hand, though Theodore shook his head and pushed her hand back down.

Severus caught Narcissa out of the corner of his eye holding Draco’s hand tightly beneath the table.

If only Potter were so easily dissuaded from plots such as this.

“That’s fourteen of us then,” Potter said. “Mione, write down the names, will you?”

”I’ll need polyjuice,” Abbott said. “If something goes sideways I can’t be caught there.”

”I have a whole supply,” Barty told him. “You can use however much you need.”

”I won’t need any,” Nymphadora said brightly. Severus watched as she changed the color and length of her hair, from her customary bright pink to a more bland shade of brown that grew from chin-length to her shoulder blades.

”Noted,” Granger said, scribbling on the parchment before her.

“I vould join if you had a firm date,” Krum told Potter apologetically. “I cannot guarantee I vill be available until then.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Potter waved his hand airily. “I think we have enough people, and you’ve got you to focus on quidditch.”

Only Potter would believe quidditch to be of equal importance as an ambush on the Death Eaters.

Severus coughed lightly and met Potter’s eyes across the table. He lifted his chin slightly, a silent message he hoped Potter understood. Potter nodded back at him, a small grin curling the edges of his lips.

The child knew that when the time came, despite the lack of a raised hand, Severus would join him.

“Let’s plan that for the second week of summer,” Potter told the others. “We’ll meet the first week, firm up the plan, then everyone on the task force will attack together the second week. Yeah?”

When no one had any arguments, Potter nodded decisively. “Anything else?” he asked Granger and Bones.

“That was it,” Granger said. “Should we set our next meeting date?”

“Let’s do it the fifth of July,” Potter said. “We’ll meet here.”

“Send an owl if you can’t make it please,” Bones said to their foreign allies.

“Mavis says he made enough food if anyone wants to stay for dinner,” Potter said. “If not though, you’re free to go.”

Severus stalled as the others began getting up after Potter’s dismissal, simply thinking to himself.

There was nothing elegant, nor truly experienced or neat about the way Potter led his army, and yet...

And yet Severus had sat in on meetings from two of the fiercest leaders in the magical world, and neither commanded such respect and loyalty from their followers. Neither Albus nor the Dark Lord ever managed to intermingle muggle warfare tactics with wixen methods either.

Potter truly was his own grey side in the upcoming war.

In rare moments, Severus could feel a small sense of glee at imagining Albus and the Dark Lord’s faces once they realized that this child has been stealing their followers away for the past five years.

Remarkable.

“A drink before I go?” Lucius murmured to Severus, breaking him from his reverie.

“Certainly.” Severus got to his feet and looked towards Barty. “Will you join us?”

“Yes please,” Barty said with a huff of relief. “I could use one.”

Severus and Barty waited politely as Lucius spoke with his family. The others were having their own discussions, disagreements, or, in the case of Potter and Granger, were busy transcribing notes.

“I hope you have something strong,” Lucius muttered after he finished with his family and followed Severus and Barty to Severus’ private potions lab. “I cannot go back to the manor without some form of fortification.”

“Is it that bad?” Severus asked, graciously breaking out his good bottle of scotch.

“Bellatrix was hardly sane before Azkaban, you can imagine her now,” Lucius said, accepting the drink.

“Guess it’ll be a relief when Potter kills her then,” Barty smirked.

“In my manor? The one built by my ancestors? Yes, I cannot wait for the day,” Lucius said drily. “Though, here lately I suppose I would nearly trade the manor for the others to be gone.”

Severus and Barty listened politely as Lucius bemoaned his life. He misses civilization, he misses having quiet within the manor, he misses the days of peace before he ‘gave away one Merlin damned possessed diary and tied himself to Potter’.

“You had a possessed diary?” Barty interrupted him at that complaint. “Why?”

“A gift from the Dark Lord, my ultimate downfall,” Lucius said with a theatrical sigh. “If the Dark Lord ever gifted you with a supposed priceless artifact I recommend you simply burn or banish it.”

“He didn’t,” Barty said. He glanced at Severus and gave him the ghost of a smile. “You Sev?”

“Hardly,” Severus scoffed. “I was not important to him until I overheard the damned prophecy.”

“Hmm...” Barty sipped his drink, his eyes appearing far off in thought. “I wonder if anyone else got gifts from him?”

“Bellatrix and Rodolphus,” Lucius told him. “I was given the diary the same time they were gifted with a golden goblet.”

“Do you think it was taken by the ministry when they were arrested?”

Severus studied Barty carefully at his interest in gifts from the Dark Lord. “Would it matter if it had been?” he asked him.

“When you’re fighting a man with seeming immortality, doesn’t every little detail matter?”

“Touché,” Severus lifted his glass to his friend.

“I don’t believe so,” Lucius answered Barty’s original question. “I was under the belief that Bellatrix hid it away in the Lestrange Vaults, though I doubt if she remembers it now, as mad as she is.”

“Weird.” Barty sat his glass down and got to his feet with a yawn. “I think I’ll go rest for a while, call for me if the kids catch the house on fire, will you Sev?”

Severus simply rolled his eyes before refilling his and Lucius’ glasses and discussing lighter topics.

By the end of the holiday break, after there had indeed been multiple accidental fires caused by ‘duels’ and ‘prank item showcases’, Severus conceded that Barty had not been needlessly worried for their overall safety.

It was a miracle that they all survived the week.

Severus very desperately hoped that perhaps the Dark Lord would be dead in a few months and there would be no need to spend a summer in a safe house with a dozen others.

Though, Severus had truly never been lucky before in his life, and he doubted that it would start now.

Chapter Text

Friday March 26

“This isn’t real,” Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. “Lue, tell me I’m dreaming. Tell me I’m having a nightmare. Fuck, tell me I’m dead.”

“You could be having a dream,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Try jumping out of a window, see if you can fly. If you fly, you’re dreaming. If you die, it was all real and a terrible tragedy.”

“Do not do that,” Theo said hastily. “Merlin, Luna. What is wrong with you?”

“She’s right about the tragedy though,” Draco said morosely. He was slumped down on the sofa in front of the fire, looking as miserable as Harry felt. “This is- is—,”