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Chapter Text

Harry was seven years old when his life was changed irrevocably. His… relatives had been forced to take him on a camping trip with them when the neighbors asked if they would all be going. Privately he thought that they were planning on leaving him in the woods and saying that he had run away. That didn’t matter anymore now, however.

His "ever-loving" relatives had made him sleep in a ratty, little sleeping bag outside of the tent, which is why he was able to hear the howling better. Thinking it might have been wolves he climbed up into a tree, which let him see what had howled. 

It wasn’t a wolf. 

It wasn’t even anything recognizable as being a living creature. It stood on two legs like a human. But that was where the resemblance to a human ended. It was hunched over, had razor-sharp claws and seemed to be half-rotted.

As it entered into the clearing that they were camping in, it sniffed his sleeping bag, but found nothing. Then it turned its attention onto the tent. It took Uncle Vernon and Dudley, screaming, all the way back to wherever it had come from. An hour later it came back and took Aunt Petunia away with it after she came back from the restrooms nearby.

As it was leaving it looked up and Harry saw its eyes as it was trying to sniff him out. 

Blood red, and blank, almost soulless.

Harry didn’t dare come down from the tree until someone else came up for him, but no one had checked the trees for little Harry over the past three days that the Dursley’s disappearance had been investigated. The cops hadn’t lasted long when they stayed behind to investigate.

He didn’t regret taking his cousin’s “emergency” rations. God knows that they could have fed him for an entire week. The fourth day he was up in the tree, the day after the cops had been taken, was when an odd individual entered the clearing during daytime. He was wearing an odd hunting outfit and had what looked like a well-worn hiking bag.  Harry would have dismissed him as being someone that would be taken to that monster’s lair if it weren’t for the fact that he was investigating some odd markings that the cops had dismissed as being made by wild animals.

As the strange man was looking around and investigating the scene he looked up and spotted one of the foil wrappers Harry had left in the branches. Instead of dismissing it as being caused by a bird, like a normal person might have, (as well as someone that wasn‘t too intelligent might have), the stranger decided to climb the tree and see what caused an open foil wrapper to be in the middle of tree branches that high.

That was how Harry Potter had his first face-to-face encounter with a Hunter.

“Pretty smart of you to climb up in the trees to escape the wendigo.”

“Wait, is that what that monster was?”

“Yeah, it was. How’d you know to climb up the tree? Something must have tipped you off, or you woulda been taken to its lair as well.”

“I heard some howling and thought it was some wolves, so I climbed up the tree so that I wouldn’t be eaten, and when I saw that thing and it had trouble sniffing me out while I was up here so I figured I’d be better staying in the tree.”

“Ya got some good instincts kid. Any idea what direction it went? Wendigos are usually only active for about a week at a time, so we’re hitting the upper limit of when I can deal with it.”

“It went about an hour, maybe an hour fifteen minutes, walk over that way.” he replied, pointing in the direction that the wendigo had gone.

“Alright, thanks kid. Now you want some help getting out this tree, cus I know from experience this ain’t comfortable for this long, and the tree isn’t warded properly anyhow.”

“No way, not while that thing’s still out there!”Harry yelled.

“Kid, how long d’ya reckon your luck’s gonna hold in a tree that ain’t warded against a wendigo? I can set it up so that you’re more comfortable, and so that it ain’t gonna get ya, if you stay in the circle,” the mysterious stranger retorted.

“I’ll get down if you show me what you’re gonna do, and if you have real food, cus this stuff is starting to make me feel a little ill.”

“Kid, I’m a professional, ‘course I’ve got food.”

As he was chewing on a turkey and cheese sandwich Harry watched what the Hunter was doing and asked him questions about it.

“Why are you using an ash-chalk?”

“One, it’s weird that you knew it wasn’t regular chalk, two it’s made from the ash of an ash tree, which according to most lore is what can be used as a tool of defense against a wendigo.”

As night fell and the man pulled out a shotgun, Harry immediately started to look at the trees that would be easiest to climb up.

“Relax kid, it can’t get past the symbols.”

“Words that are a real comfort to someone that’s seen that thing take people to god knows where!”

At the proclamation of his skepticism, the wendigo stopped growling and instead started imitating cries of pain and desperation, cries in a voice that sounded close, but not quite close enough, to his aunts.

“Oh, like that’s gonna work! I’m not gonna risk my neck to save the horse-faced woman that tries to hit me with a frying pan.” Harry yelled out into the dark.

After it tried both Vernon’s and Dudley’s voices, and Harry still didn’t do anything, the Hunter glanced over at him with a mixture of intrigue and worry. Intrigue because of the fact that the kid understood that the wendigo was attempting to lure him out, and worry because of the fucking frying pan comment.

By the morning, the police called off their search, in part because of the fact that the police chief didn’t want to lose any more of the force, and also in part due to the fact that the magical side of the law was stopping too much investigation into Harry himself.

After the sun rose the Hunter set out in the direction that he watched the wendigo go. It took him three hours, but he eventually returned with most of the prisoners alive and well, at least as well as is possible after that encounter. The two casualties were Vernon and Dudley, whose hearts both gave out.

So it was that Harry Potter decided that he would become a Hunter no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

After living through the most horrifying ordeal of her entire life Petunia Dursley neé Evans had decided to make a change in her life. Her husband and son might have been dead but, by some form of luck (good or bad, she couldn’t say) her nephew had survived. That day was the day that they struck a deal with each other. In return for her no longer attempting to “correct” his… less than normal behavior, he would do everything that he could to train and learn how to deal with the… less than savory creatures in the world.

With the funding of his aunt, as well as the money from Vernon’s life insurance, Harry was able to take lessons in basic self-defense (that were available for his age, as sadly most tutors wouldn’t teach him anything that they thought was too difficult) as well as Latin lessons. When it came time for summer vacation his aunt would take him to London to look for books that might be able to give him at least a little bit of useful information about the monsters he would later be hunting.

It was on one of these trips that Harry found a little dive bar that was relatively out of the way called The Hunter’s Moon. Already a name that stuck out a bit in and amongst the endless amounts of pubs that referenced the monarchy in one way or another, the other thing that caused it to stand out to Harry was the collection of entirely nondescript cars. Cars that seemed a bit too nondescript.

Deciding that it might be a good place to look for information he decided to walk into the bar, wherein he was immediately confronted by the bartender (and as he would later learn, the owner).

“Hey kid! What are ya doing in here? You know it’s a bar right?” he asked, with a mixture of confusion and concern in his tone.

“I kind of assumed this is where Hunter’s gathered, going off of the name,” Harry replied with a bit of a hopeful tone, but just a hint of it.

“What exactly d’ya mean by ‘Hunter’ kid, cus that seems a bit vague,” the barman asked, intrigued and slightly concerned as to why a little kid might need a Hunter.

“Y’know… people that hunt monsters, like wendigos and stuff?” Harry replied, hoping that he was right in his assumption.

“Kid, why on earth do you know about wendigos?” the barman asked, now more concerned than intrigued.

“I uhh, I saw a wendigo take my uncle and cousin who died. Before you ask, it's already dead, and I’m not here to hire someone to kill it, I’m here for information, and if anyone is willing, training,” Harry volunteered.

“Kid, why do you want info and training?” the barman asked, now sufficiently more confused as to why a small child wanted to know stuff about monsters.

“Well, I want to become a Hunter. What else would I do, knowing what there is out there?”

So it was that Harry finally found a semi-consistent source of knowledge on the supernatural, as well as some Hunters willing to teach him how to fight in a practical way, as well as teaching him useful skills like lockpicking.

Over the course of the next six years, the patrons of The Hunter’s Moon would teach him more useful methods of defense, as well as how to spot cases and find good sources on paranormal info. Once in a while, a Hunter would come in that gave Harry a tip or two on how to deal with different creatures he would be hunting, including some of the more… nefarious ones, like demons.

Two weeks before Harry’s birthday, exactly 6 years after the Wendigo Incident Harry’s life would once again change, and it was all caused by a simple letter. It was early in the morning, on a Saturday, when Harry was handed a letter by his aunt, one that was addressed to him.

“Hey Aunt Petunia, what’s Hogwarts?” Harry asked after he had opened the letter and saw that it was from a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“I don’t think that I’m the right person to explain that to you Harry,” she replied, “I think maybe that Frank would be better to tell you about it.”

So Petunia took Harry to The Hunter’s Moon, where Harry proceeded to ask the bartender what exactly Hogwarts was, and over the course of an hour and a half, Frank explained that Hogwarts was a school dedicated to educating people with natural born magic, how to use it and how to control it. He explained what halfbloods, purebloods, muggleborns and squibs were, and that he happened to be a halfblood. He told him that his parents were war heroes, and they had been killed whilst they were in hiding by the leader of a faction of the war called Voldemort. When Harry asked why his aunt didn’t explain all of this, Frank guessed it might have been from the guilt of hiding it all. At the end of it all he offered to take Harry to the central shopping district, Diagon Alley, so he could get all of his supplies, an offer which Harry accepted without hesitation.

As he was heading back home all Harry could think was that the world would just get more complicated the more he thought he understood it.

Chapter Text

It was bright and early on a Saturday morning that Harry was taken into London by his aunt, who also needed to do something in the city, though the what’s and why’s about that Harry could not give less of a fuck about.

It was at roughly half-ten that he met up with Frank so that they could head to Diagon Alley. Just before they started walking to Charing Cross, Frank helped Harry cover up his scar, so that he wouldn’t get mobbed by clueless, hero-worshiping magicals. A factor that also helped lessen the chances of him being recognized would be the fact that he was dressed more like a Hunter than most would have expected him to.

As they exited the marble, pillared facade of Gringotts Bank Frank asked Harry what he wanted to get done first.

“Well obviously we have to get the clothes shopping done first, to get it out of the way,” Harry said with visible dread on his face

“Yeah no, I’m gonna leave that to you, cus that sounds like hell. Come and find me in the Leaky when it’s done,”

“You suck sometimes Frank,” Harry yelled back as he was walking to Madam Malkin’s, thinking that he was going to hate this all the while.

As he stepped in and stood on the stool that the store attendant directed him to, he realized that he wasn’t actually alone in the store when he saw another boy standing on the stool next to him. Deciding that it might speed up the painfully boring process of having his robes tailored and then bought, he decided to strike up a conversation with him.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked, “My name’s James.”

“I’m Blaise. Why do you ask? You don’t really seem to be the type to just ask random people such droll questions,”

“Honestly, it’s mostly to try and distract myself from the tailoring. I still can’t believe we have to wear robes of all things. They’re completely impractical,” Harry complained.

“On top of being so last century. I’m going to miss wearing something that I actually like,” Blaise commiserated, “What house are you looking forward to being in? Personally, I’d like to be in Slytherin, seems like the best place to get good gossip, but I’ve heard Ravenclaw has its own personal library, so I wouldn’t mind that.”

“If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t really mind any of them, but I don’t think I’ll be getting into Hufflepuff. I don’t tend to trust people very easily.” Harry replied, as the store attendant finished up the tailoring and directed him to the register to pay.

As he was heading to the door, Harry called out to Blaise, “Wanna meet up on the train? You seem cool,” to which Blaise responded with a simple hum.

Heading to the Leaky Cauldron to fetch Frank, Harry kept an eye out, looking at the different stores he would have to visit, as well as making a note of which stores it would make sense to visit later, like the apothecary.

As he sat down Frank asked him what store he wanted to visit next, to which Harry responded “I think we should head to the bookstore first, I might be able to find some books that’ll be useful outside of the assigned ones, and I think it’d be better to leave the potions ingredients until later, cus I don’t want them to go off,”

Whilst in the bookstore, after having collected up his assigned course, Harry had decided to have a look at the various different books to try and find some books that might be useful for dealing with the darker side of the supernatural world. So far he had already found a few spirit encyclopedias that might be useful for dealing with vengeful ghosts. It was as he was looking for any books on demons (a subject that he was still a little too ignorant of for his liking) when he stumbled upon someone else in the Spirits aisle. A short, bushy-haired, brown-haired girl who had accidentally walked into him.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. What are you doing reading about spirits? Not really something most people seem interested in,” he replied.

“Oh, well I heard that Hogwarts has the largest amount of cognizant ghosts in the entirety of the United Kingdom, so I figured it would be a good idea to research them. What about you, you don’t seem the type either?”

“I just find non-human supernatural stuff interesting,” Harry replied “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh, Hermione, what about you?” she asked

“James. Do you wanna meet up on the train to Hogwarts? I might be able to teach you a little bit about ghosts,” Harry offered.

“Oh, if you wouldn’t mind,” she replied.

After buying his books and the non-perishable potions tools, as well as a telescope, he finally headed to Ollivander’s to get his wand, contemplating how useful a wand might be when hunting monsters. As he walked through the door and heard a bell tinkle, he was immediately on edge, feeling like he was being watched.

“Ah, Mr Potter I was expecting to see you today,” He said, which was cause for concern seeing as his scar was currently hidden, “You’ve your mother’s eyes, you know, but you look far more like your father. I remember their wands quite well. To your mother, I sold a willow wand, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, with a dragon heartstring core, fantastic for charms work, and an excellent match for such an intelligent witch. Your father was favored by a mahogany wand, with a unicorn hair core, eleven inches in length, and quite pliable, excellently suited for transfiguration, and just as much of a trickster as he.”

“Now, which is your wand arm?” he asked.

“I favor my right hand more,” Harry responded.

As he set his measuring tape to work by itself, Ollivander started to talk about his methods for making wands.

“Every wand that I’ve ever made has one of three cores. A dragon heartstring, the tail hair of a unicorn, or the flight feather of a phoenix. Now other cores are possible, but I’ve found that they never lead to as good a result. No single wand I’ve ever made will perform the same as another, as no tree, nor creature is the same as another, and of course, no single wand will perform as well for a user that it did not pair with,”

Clicking his finger, causing the tape measure to collapse to the floor, Ollivander came back with a collection of boxes. “Try this one. Willow wood and unicorn hair, quite rigid,” handing it to Harry, but grabbing it back before he could even give it a wave. “Oh no, absolutely not. Perhaps ebony and dragon heartstring, slightly whippy,” this time Harry was able to give it a wave, but instead of what he might have expected, he accidentally blew up a vase.

On and on this process went for about an hour and a half, being given a wand, occasionally being able to wave it, occasionally having it immediately snatched out of his hand. Eventually, it came to the point where Ollivander started muttering under his breath “Quite the tricky customer, aren’t you. Not to worry. Perhaps… it’s unconventional, but it might work,” coming back from wherever he stored the wands he said “Try this one. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite supple,” Upon being handed the wand, however, Ollivander was immediately less enthusiastic about the possibility, even more so after it ejected itself from his hand.

After about another half an hour of this Ollivander eventually came back with another box, one that seemed to be falling apart, and covered in dust. “I was hoping you might be able to be matched with one of my wands, but it seems that one of my father’s wands is the one suited to you. Rowan and the hair of a Church Grim, rather inflexible and 12 inches long. Do give it a wave.” Even without waving it, Harry immediately felt a click with this wand. As he waved, the room dimmed, and he was cast in shadow.

“Ah, how curious. Very curious that you ought to match with that wand of all the wands in this store, very curious indeed,” Ollivander started muttering to himself.

“Ok, but why exactly is it so curious? It’s just a wand,” Harry asked, getting tired of his creepy mutterings.

“Well Mr Potter,” Ollivander began “It’s curious because of all the wands I had expected you to match with, it was the Holly and Phoenix feather wand, due to it being the brother of the wand that gave you your scar. However, that you matched with a Church Grim core, and a Rowan body of all woods, leaves me with but a single question. What caused you to wish to be a Hunter?”

“Yeah, no, I’m not telling you why, but I do want to know how you knew that,” Harry demanded.

“As a wandcrafter, I have acquired the ability to remember every wand I’ve ever sold, and by an odd coincidence, the only other wand I’ve sold that was made of Rowan wood happened to be to another person that decided to be a Hunter,” he replied

“How much for the wand?” Harry asked, wanting to get out before he could ask another question.

“7 galleons,” he replied.

After giving him 7 galleons, as he was headed back to where Frank was to head home, all Harry could think about was how bizarre that encounter was.

Chapter Text

“Are you being serious, Frank. I have to walk through a brick wall, which will somehow lead me to a hidden train station?” Harry asked skepticism and sarcasm practically dripping off of every word he said.

“Harry, when have I ever said something this ridiculous that wound up being incorrect?”

“You might have a point, but you’re going in first, that way you’re the one getting arrested if you’re wrong,” Harry replied.

“Fine,” Frank sighed as a response, as he started to walk backward into the wall. Popping his head back out of it he called out “See, it’s fine, now stop being a pussy and walk on through!”

Seeing for himself that it was, for the most part, safe to walk through, Harry hoisted his satchel and walked through it. As he stepped through, he felt an odd pressing sensation and had his vision fog over, before stepping out into a train station with a massive scarlet steam-train, and a few families on the actual platform. As he emerged from the brick wall, he saw Frank standing off to the side.

“Hey Frank, if you’re gonna hang around and see Hermione and Blaise, let them know I’m on the train. Oh, also use the name James, it’s what I introduced myself as,”

“Eh, I might hang around a bit, but I’m probably gonna leave after a little while. Got a bar to run after all. Go get on the train, it’ll help to avoid the stalker-y fans,”

As he found a compartment he settled in for a long ride, checking that he had his knife in his boot, before he pulled out the copy of Spirits, Specters and Sprites: The Abiology and Weaknesses of Non-Corporeal Beings. About half an hour later, just as he had gotten to the section on poltergeists, someone knocked on the door to his compartment.

“Oh, hey Blaise. How was the rest of your summer?” Harry asked.

“Not bad, I spent the last few weeks of the holidays in Italy with my mother. She’s attempting to get another husband, so I might have to get some new dress robes for the wedding. Besides that, I mostly explored the stores in Acquirente Misterioso, the shopping center in Italy. What about you?”

“Mostly just exploring different antiques stores in muggle London, as well as getting combat lessons. I was trying to find some books on demonology, a subject that I’m woefully under-informed about, especially taking into account that it’s a type of non-corporeal being,” Harry answered.

“Odd topic to be interested in, any particular reason why?” Blaise commented.

“No specific reason, I just think non-human supernatural things are interesting,” Harry lied.

Narrowing his eyes, Blaise merely hummed in assent to his reply. Settling back in for the train ride Harry continued reading his book. According to wizards, poltergeists were manifested forms of mischief, and their only weakness was a decrease in the number of people in a location, lessening their fuel, which didn’t really track with what he knew about poltergeists.

Just as he was contemplating asking Blaise if there was a difference between wizarding poltergeists and normal poltergeists there was a knock on their compartment. Opening the door to see who it was this time, he was confronted by Hermione.

“Oh, hey Hermione. How was your summer?” he asked.

Stepping into the compartment and sitting down, Hermione started “Oh my summer was wonderful! My family and I were on vacation in France for the rest of it, and I spent parts of it attempting to find the Place Cachée, but we mostly spent our time exploring some of the lesser-known sites, like Nicholas Flamel’s house, as well as finding some rare books. What about you?”

“Mostly just trying to find some antique books on demonology as well as getting some training in muay thai, krav maga, taekwondo and eskrima, other than that not much happened,” he replied.

Over the next hour or so Hermione asked Harry what he knew about various different spirits, from ghosts to poltergeists and banshees, with Blaise chiming in with insights about how magic affected the creation of spirits. In return Hermione let Blaise and Harry ask any questions about France or the Muggle world. About two hours into the train ride there was another knock on the door.

“At this point, I’m considering putting a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door,” Harry said as he went up to the door. As he opened it he asked, “Can we help you?”

The short, slightly chubby, blonde-haired child standing before him asked “H-hi. I was wondering if you had seen a toad? My pet, Trevor, is missing,”

“I haven’t,” Harry said, “Have you guys seen a toad?” he asked the other two, with Blaise shaking his head, and Hermione replying that she might have earlier on. “If you want I’ll help you find him, but only if you introduce yourself.”

“Oh! M-my name’s Neville. Neville Longbottom. What’s your’s?” Neville asked.

“I’m James. C’mon, let’s go look for Trevor,” Harry said.

He and Neville started walking up and down the train, popping their heads into different compartments to ask if the inhabitants had seen the toad, with most of them saying they hadn’t with some replying that they might have seen it, but that they couldn’t really remember. That pattern continued until about fifteen minutes when they knocked on the door of a compartment with three boys about their age.

“Hey, have y’all seen a toad? Neville’s pet’s run off, and we’re trying to find it,” Harry asked as the red-haired boy finished a sentence with his wand out and pointed at a rat.

“-this stupid fat rat yellow!” which caused nothing to happen, and the redhead adopted a disappointed look “Huh? No, we haven’t seen a toad.”

“If you were trying to cast a spell just now, whoever told you about it probably lied. Most spells are based off of Latin words, or occasionally some Ancient Greek,” Harry said.

“Goddamnit, I should have known that Fred and George would have given me a crappy spell,” Ron moaned, “Anyway’s what’s your name? I’m Ron Weasley, that’s Dean, and that’s Seamus.”

“My name’s James, and obviously that’s Neville. Who are Fred and George?” Harry said.

“They’re my brothers, twins and pranksters of the highest level, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised about that spell not working. By the way, have you seen Harry Potter? I’m gonna be his best friend,” Ron replied.

“Nope, haven’t seen him at all, good luck though,” Harry answered, making sure to try and avoid him when he found out he was actually Harry “We need to get back to searching, but it was good to meet you.”

After that, and about another half hour of searching, he and Neville eventually found Trevor, with Harry also asking Neville if he wanted to sit with them, seeing as how he seemed pretty lonely. When they got back to the compartment he and Neville sat down, with Harry mentioning the weird encounter with Ron. For the most part, the rest of the train ride was fairly relaxed, besides a blond weirdo calling them “mudbloods and blood-traitors” before going off looking for Harry himself.

It was when they got off the train that the next… odd thing happened. More specifically a man who looked to be ten, maybe eleven, feet tall calling out from over the ground and seemingly keeping an eye out for someone. Following the cries of “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way” lead the quartet to a nearby shoreline, with a fleet of small boats.

It was after all of the first years had climbed In the boats that they experienced their first bit of active magic. At the shout of “Forward!” from the tall man the boats started to move forward on their own, cleaving through the water like a blade through butter. Rounding the corner led to most of his fellow first years gasping in surprise at the sight of Hogwarts standing as a stark silhouette on a cliff. Harry was more focused on how there might be better books for his… personal studies. Ducking their heads as the tall man had yelled out to do, led to them landing ashore at a beach in a cave under the cliff. Walking up the flights of stairs nearby (all while wondering what it was with magic folk and grandeur) led them to a giant oak door, which opened to reveal a stern-looking woman wearing dark green robes.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Chapter Text

“Now, follow me,” she said, as they started to walk through some form of welcoming hall, to another anteroom “Now, the annual Start of Term banquet is going to begin shortly, but not before you are Sorted in the Great Hall. Whilst you are here the house that you are sorted into will act as your family. You will eat meals with your house-mates, you will attend classes with your house-mates.”

“Now, there are four houses. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each house has a long, storied history, and has produced many a successful witch and wizard. While at Hogwarts your actions will reflect back upon your house. Following the rules and doing well in class will gain you house points, whilst any infractions upon the rules will lose you house points, with the house with the most amount of house points winning the House Cup. Now, in a few minutes, you will be led out into the Great Hall to be sorted. Whilst you are waiting for my return, I would suggest you attempt to make yourself at least a little bit more… presentable,” she said, as she walked out of the door that they entered through.

After she had left, most of the people around Harry immediately started worrying, concerned about what exactly they would have to do to be sorted. He could hear that Weasley kid say that his brothers told him he’d have to fight a troll. Harry wasn’t particularly bothered about what he’d have to do. If it was fighting a troll he was pretty good at fighting, and he had his knives on him. If it was an academic test, he probably wouldn’t be getting into Ravenclaw. Whilst he was contemplating what his game plan should be, whilst Hermione was muttering spells that may be useful under her breath, another thing happened that was… odd, and a touch concerning. A collection of ghosts flew through a wall, all of whom seemed to be arguing about a… poltergeist? That was until the one wearing a ruff around his neck paused in his floating and said “I say, what are you all doing here?”

It was just as someone yelled out that they were waiting to get sorted that the professor (Harry thought that the tall man had called her Professor McGonagall) came back in and told the ghosts to return to the Great Hall.

“Now, if you would all form a line, and follow me, the Sorting Ceremony will take place now,” she said.

Stepping out into the Great Hall was a rather… unique and disorienting experience. The reason was the mass amounts of floating candles and, when he looked up, the ceiling looked like the night sky. Utterly confused, he turned to Hermione and whispered to her a question about the ceiling which, according to her (and, apparently, Hogwarts: A History), the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky. As Harry turned his attention back to the Head Table he saw  McGonagall set down a stool with a raggedy hat on top of it. Assuming that it must somehow be related to the Sorting. Just as he was beginning to become confused about what exactly they were supposed to do, it started to sing. It wasn’t even a particularly good song, it rhymed toil and loyal. At least it let Harry know that all he had to do was wear a telepathic hat. Great.

McGonagall called out ‘When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,’. The first two went to Hufflepuff, then the next two to Ravenclaw. Really, Harry didn’t know which houses most people went to. He was just waiting until his new, potential, friends were called up. When one of them finally came up it was Hermione, and she went to Ravenclaw, after what seemed to be a three minute long argument. The next of their quartet was Neville, who went to Hufflepuff. There were more names said, with the only one of interest being that weird blonde kid, who went to Slytherin. Finally, McGonagall called out.

“Potter, Harry!”

As he had expected, the moment she had called out his name the entire Great Hall broke out into whispers, which only intensified once they actually got a glimpse of him. The last thing he saw before the dark void of the Sorting Hat filled his vision was the entire Hall staring at him.

“Oh, now aren’t you an interesting one? It’s been a while since I’ve had two students so challenging.”

“This is… interesting. Now why exactly do you think I’m ‘an interesting one’? I know why I think I’m interesting, and seeing as how you are, apparently, telepathic, I wonder if you also know.”

“You’re interesting because of that little incident you had. Now, where to put a Hunter? Gryffindor certainly wouldn’t be a miss. You’ve plenty of courage to want to take on the dark side of the world. You’d certainly do well in Slytherin, plenty of cunning is needed to avoid those that would hinder you. With that thirst for knowledge, you’d fit in well in Ravenclaw.”

“Why’ve you not mentioned Hufflepuff? I personally don’t think I’d fit in, but I’d like to know what you think.”

“Oh, you certainly don’t fear hard work, fear it far less than a lot of the badgers I’ve sorted, but you certainly lack the levels of trust that most of the Hufflepuffs have, you’d be an awful fit for that house.”

“Hm. I thought as much, well which house will it be? I really don’t have a specific preference for one house or another, so whatever you think would be best is where I’ll go.”

“Well, I could put you in either of the other three houses, but I suppose seeing as how you had a conversation in which you questioned my process I suppose there’s nowhere else to go besides GRYFFINDOR!”

Hearing the loud round of applause, Harry took the hat off of his head and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. Almost immediately upon sitting down, he was swarmed by the Gryffindors. A tall redhead with a badge on his robes started to try and shake his hand, but couldn’t due to Harry recoiling. All the while, the Hall was filled with a raucous uproar, and shouts of “We got Potter, we got Potter!” by yet more redheads. As Harry was adjusting to the fact that he wouldn’t be left alone tonight more students were sorted, but he did manage to catch that Blaise was sorted into Ravenclaw. It was as he was getting ready for the food to appear that he got accosted by that weird Weasley kid.

“Hey, you said your name was James!” he called across the table, “Why didn’t you tell me you were Harry Potter?”

“Well, for one, my middle name is James, and for second, I didn’t tell anyone what my actual name was, to try and avoid this weird hounding that’s going on,” Harry replied

“Oh,” Ron said, “I guess that makes sense. Where’s the scar?”

“I hid it under makeup, cus it’s pretty recognizable, but don’t ya think it’s kinda weird to immediately ask someone to see the scar they got from the night their parents died?” Harry replied.

Blushing, Ron mumbled something about it probably seeming rude, but was distracted by the rest of the table being filled up by food. As he was dishing up a decently balanced plate of food he looked across the table and saw one of those ghosts that was arguing earlier. Deciding to see what they had been arguing about asking he called to the ghost “Scuse me, but what’s your name?”

“Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident house ghost for Gryffindor house,” he answered

Ignoring Ron’s exclamation of “You’re Nearly Headless Nick!” Harry asked “Well, Sir Nicholas, I was wondering what you were arguing about earlier,”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, the Friar and I were merely having a little disagreement about how to deal with the castle’s resident poltergeist, Peeves,”

“Wait, there’s a poltergeist in this castle, and no one’s done anything?” Harry asked

“What do you mean ‘done anything’? Everyone knows you can’t do anything about poltergeists,” a sandy-haired boy commented.

“I mean, that’s wrong,” Harry said, “Anyways, Sir Nicholas, if you wanted I could try and threaten Peeves with being exorcised, and if that doesn’t work I could just exorcise him for you.”

“A noble offer, but I feel it would be best to give him at least a month, though I suppose I would be unable to stop you if you tried,”

After his conversation, Harry decided to check out of the conversations happening around the table, most of which had pivoted towards being about everyone’s blood status, with seemingly everyone at the table that was in his year talking about it. As his year mates were taking part in the banalest conversation he’d heard, he decided to watch the other tables, as well as the ghosts, to try and figure out which tables had the most potential threats. He came to four conclusions.

1. Avoid the weird blond kid in Slytherin that was glaring at him
2. Try and avoid the Headmaster, that smile was giving him the creeps
3. Avoid the weird greasy haired dude that gave him a headache to look at
4. Explain what was going on to his friends as soon as possible

It was just as he had made that list that the Headmaster made his announcements, including a “Forbidden” Forest that he would definitely be visiting, as well as a forbidden corridor where you risked dying, which he would also be checking out. As he was climbing the stairs he decided he would collect Neville and then head over to the Ravenclaw table to talk to Blaise and Hermione.

After waiting through the prefects' speech he headed up to the dorms and, ignoring the looks his roommates were giving him, lined his bed with salt and went to bed. Things just kept getting weirder the more he thought they couldn’t apparently.

Chapter Text

Sunday

Luckily for the residents of Hogwarts Castle the day after the Sorting Ceremony was a Sunday. This was especially true for one Harry Potter, seeing as everyone else decided to sleep in, giving him some time to assess the dorm room he was in for strategic positioning, as well as giving him the chance to get dressed, his scar hidden, his satchel ready, all before the other boys had woken up. Just as he was getting Rare Magical Creatures, Their Uses and Weaknesses out of his trunk to put in his satchel the rest of the boys had woken up.

“So, can we see the scar? Wait, what are you wearing?” the sandy-haired boy asked.

“Seamus, right?” getting a nod, Harry continued, “One, I’m not gonna show you the scar I got on the night my parents died, two it’s weird how fixated the magical population is on it. Three, it’s called hiking gear, it’s more comfortable and practical than robes and it’s a weekend, so uniform isn’t compulsory.”

“Merlin, you’re kinda rude,” Seamus replied.

“No ruder than necessary when people ask to see the mark of the night I lost my entire family,” Harry threw back as he headed down to the Great Hall.

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry immediately looked for Neville. Spotting him over at the Hufflepuff table, sitting by himself Harry walked over and told him to follow him to the Ravenclaw table to wait for Blaise and Hermione. Sitting down, Harry pulled some turkey sandwiches forward, as well as a glass of what looked like orange juice, which he promptly spat out (he was later informed it was pumpkin juice) and got a goblet (seriously, why are wizards so dramatic) of water. A couple of minutes Blaise and Hermione walked into the Hall and sat opposite them.

“Okay, I’d like an explanation James,” Hermione led with, her annoyance laced in her words.

“Well, I was already planning on doing that. Basically, I wanted to avoid people freaking out about me being the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’. I was planning on telling y’all who I was, even if the choice had been taken away from me. Also for the record, my middle name is James,” Harry told the three of them.

Mollified for the moment, Hemione proceeded to ask what book he had been reading on the train, with Harry letting her know, but their conversation hadn’t continued for long before that greasy-haired professor swooped to their table.

“Mr’s Potter and Longbottom, what are you doing not at your House tables? And why are you not in your uniform Mr. Potter?” he asked in a weird, protracted way.

“Well, Professor-,” Harry started, prompting the professor for his surname.

“Snape.”

“Well Professor Snape, according to the school bylaws students are not required to sit at their house tables, unless it’s a feast, and students are also permitted to wear casual wear when they do not have any classes, as is the case on the weekend,”

“Be that as it may, 10 points from Gryffindor for your cheek,” Snape said before he swooped away to find another potential victim.

“Yeah, no I don’t like that dude,” Harry said as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Well, that last comment was a bit disrespectful,” Hermione said.

Just as she had commented, there was a flood of owls flying in to deliver the students’ mail, which elicited a cry of “Wizards!” from an exasperated Harry. He was marginally more interested when one dropped a letter in front of him that was from Frank.

Hey, brat,

Got an email from my friend Bobby over in the States. ‘Parently he found a simpler devil’s trap than that Solomonic Seal, and he wanted to get it to active hunters. Reckoned you’d wanna know, what with ya shtick.

Attached to the letter was a printed image of the trap, which Harry would definitely be carving into the entryway to the Gryffindor common room.

After finishing his breakfast over some idle chatter Harry got up and announced that he would be going to the library, and did anyone want to follow. Hermione said she was going to try and map the castle, Neville wanted to get a look at the greenhouses, but Blaise said he would come with.

“Hey Harry,” Blaise started, “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Shoot,”

“You remember on the train ride when you said that you ‘think non-human supernatural things are interesting’ when I asked why you wanted information on demons?”

“Yeah, ‘bout that, why’d ya just accept that demons are real,” Harry asked, in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

“Why do you want to become a Hunter,” Blaise asked, with just enough emphasis to make it clear what he was talking about.

“Childhood incident with a wendigo. If it helps, I’m not planning on hunting anyone that is a natural-born magical,”

“I wasn’t worried about that, I was just curious if you were going to tell the others about your less than… expected job path,”

“If they ask, and not a second before, though that might happen sooner than later with Neville, pureblood and all that,”

Monday

Harry’s first day of going to a wizarding school was… interesting. His first lesson of the day was Transfiguration, which started the day off with both a bang, as well as boredom. Unlike most of the Gryffindors he got to the classroom on time, Frank’s warning of how strict Professor McGonagall was, lurking in his mind. The class was already off to an odd beginning when he saw the professor wasn’t at her desk, but a cat was. Giving the cat a close look, he decided that it was just magic folk being weird. It was when Weasley came in just before the bell that it got weirder. Putting away his copy of Spirits, Specters, and Sprites: The Abiology and Weaknesses of Non-Corporeal Beings he looked at the desk, expecting McGonagall to appear out of nowhere, matching the weird theatrics he had seen so far, but it was far more bizarre.

The cat turned out to be McGonagall, who was apparently something called an Animagus, which meant she was able to shift into an animal form, which immediately had Harry on edge. After that, she turned her desk into a pig and back again while lecturing about the dangers of the field of transfiguration. After such a showy start, they were immediately set to theory work and lectured at for the first hour of the double session.

The second half of the double period was the actual casting period. Walking around McGonagall told them to turn the matchstick she was giving them into a needle. By the end of the period he had managed to make a metal stick, but it was blunt. In contrast, Hermione had managed to get a perfect needle.

Bar the shapeshifting incident, Monday was fairly average if you excluded the weird conversation at lunch.

Harry was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Hermione reading through the History textbook when two redheads approached. Hearing their footsteps, Harry turned around to talk to them.

“Weasley’s I assume,” Harry asked them.

“Quite so ickle Harrikins,” the one on the left said.

“More specifically Fred and George, though which is which, we won’t say,” the one on the right said.

“We heard an interesting rumor about you,” leftie said, “Apparently you offered to exorcize Peeves during the Start of Term banquet.”

“And we were wondering if it was true,” rightie finished.

“Yeah, I did. Why d’you care anyways?” Harry asked developing a headache from the constant swapping they did.

“We’d rather you didn’t,” Fred (Harry had decided that was who rightie was) started, “we’ve grown attached to him, and he’s quite helpful with our pranks,” George ended.

“Oookay? If he doesn’t mess with me, I’ll probably leave him alone.” Harry said

Wednesday

Wednesday, like Monday, was… odd. It wasn’t odd in the same way that Monday was, though. Wednesday was when Harry had a double for his Defense lessons and the Defense Professor was… weird. It was clear to see that he knew enough to teach it but he was strangely fixated on Harry.

“Now, if we could have a student participant, let’s see… Mr. Potter, how about you?” Quirrel said, before explaining what he would be doing.

“Now, a fundamental tenet of this class is learning to actually defend yourselves, though your age precludes you from using some of the more advanced, and thus useful spells. Instead, I shall be focusing this first term on how to dodge, using your environment to your benefit, and basic spells that cause minor pain.” he said, as he was setting up a fake forest, “Now, Mr. Potter I will be shooting simple Stinging Hexes at you. You are to do your best to avoid them and, if possible, attempt to physically disarm me.”

What followed after this was a mock duel of sorts, wherein Quirrel shot Stinging Hexes at him with such ferocity that it seemed almost personal. Harry managed to dodge most of the hexes and managed to get fairly close to the professor but wound up losing when he took a hex to the face.

“A valiant effort Mr. Potter, and certainly better than I suspect some of your other, less… adept, classmates might have done,” Quirrel commented after mending Harry’s face.

What followed was a boring lecture about the different methods of self-defense that don’t rely on just using a wand. After the class, Harry immediately sought out Neville to ask him a question.

“Hey Neville, you know most of the important people in the Wizarding World, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Neville responded, “Gran insisted I meet them for when I’m an adult.”

“Well then, who would you say is the best person to get legal advice from in the school?” Harry asked.

“Well, I’d probably say the Headmaster,”

“Okay, amendment. Which person that isn’t an authority figure?

“O-kay? Probably Susan. Her aunt is the head of the DMLE, so Susan knows a weird bit about the law,”

“Cool, could you set up a meeting with her for me? I wanna ask her something,”

“Okay? You’re kind of weird, you know that, Harry?”

“Yeah, I know.”

The final lesson of the day was the weirdest part. It was a history lesson, which should have been interesting, seeing as it was magical history. Expectations, however, don’t always live up to reality.

Walking into the classroom next to Hermione, Harry immediately groaned. The class was taught by a ghost.

“Harry, what is it this time?” Hermione asked, exasperation dripping off her words.

“It’s a ghost, Hermione. They have a ghost teaching History,”

“That’s bad how? A ghost is practically the best Professor for History that there could be! They’ve lived through history!” Hermione exclaimed.

Quieting down, Harry sat down at the back of the class, with Hemione in front of him, and Blaise to the side. Deciding to prepare for the inevitability of the lecture causing him to dose off, Harry took out one of his books to read through once he was proven right. It wasn’t even half of an hour in that Harry leaned forward and said to Hermione “‘Mione, how opposed would you be to us no longer having a History Professor?”

“Harry, we can’t just not have a professor,” Hermione protested.

“Well, it’s not like Dumbledore wouldn’t hire a new one,”

“How would you even get rid of Binns?”

“Simple. I’d exorcize him. Not like it’d be all that hard,” 

“Would you please stop threatening to exorcize the spirits in the castle? They add character,”

“I’m gonna exorcize Binns, but it’ll take a little time to get it done, so savor the time with him now,”

“I’m ignoring you now,”

Friday

Despite being the day before the weekend, Friday was by far Harry’s worst day. For one, his first lesson was Potions, with Greasy Snape.

Snape, apparently, had quite the flair for dramatics. For instance, he waited until the entire class was sat down, in the dungeons, to sweep into the room, robes billowing behind. As soon as he reached his desk, he once again did weird wind shit by slamming the door closed. Then came the fucking monologue. Going on about how to “bottle fame” and “stopper death”. Of course, the drama was ruined by him calling them all dunderheads. It was what came after that made him like the Grease Ball less.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Confused, seeing as how that wasn’t covered in the first-year textbooks, Harry decided to be snarky.

“Certainly not a first-year potion, cus those aren’t mentioned in our potions textbook,”

“10 points for cheek! Where would I find a bezoar?”

“A potions supply closet, but you could harvest it from a goat's stomach,”

“I suppose you have read some of the assigned books. Tell me, what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

“There isn’t one. They’re both Aconite, which most herblore posits is lethal for werewolves,”

“It seems that you are capable of reading. 10 points for your smarm. For your information, Mr. Potter adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood is part of the steps to making the Draught of Living Death. Well, why aren’t you copying this down!”

The rest of the lesson wasn’t much better, seeing as how that weird blonde kept trying to sabotage his potion, which made making it take longer, but he managed to bat the ingredients away from his cauldron. Even though the potion looked and smelled the way the recipe said it should, Snape still gave him a failing grade.

The day just got weirder after that. As he was walking to the Great Hall to meet up with his friends he was accosted by yet another spirit, which caused Harry to consider just spending a month doing salt and burns. This was just strengthened when he heard the specter speak.

“Oh Potty, wee Potty, someone’s a naughty little firstie!” it cackled.

“What?” Harry asked, “Wait, are you Peeves?”

“The little Beastie has heard of me!” Peeves giggled, “Wee little Potty with his penchant for threats! We might be good friends if you continue!”

After leaving him with that cryptic sentence Peeves flew away from Harry, leaving him bewildered.

Reaching the Great Hall he sat down next to Blaise.

“Hey, d’ya know what Peeves’ real name is?”

“No,” he responded, “Also, I won’t help you find out, because he’s rather entertaining, and I’d hate to see you salt and burn his bones.”

That was the point when Harry decided that every single wizard beside him was insane.

Chapter Text

It took almost the entirety of the first month to find out where Binns’ remains were. Unsurprisingly for the Wizarding World, record documentation wasn’t a well-performed practice, which made his life all the harder when he wanted to do things that were interesting. Nonetheless, it didn’t deter him. Right in front of him was the grave of one Cuthbert Everett Binns. Considering he was dealing with the largest recognized wizarding settlement’s graveyard it was childishly easy to break in during the night, though he supposed it might be because no one would expect anyone to want to break into a cemetery. What followed really was just a simple salt and burn and then sneaking back into the castle. Obviously, he hadn’t just been working on finding out where Binns was buried.

The next day, as he was sat next to Hermione he braced himself for when the news would be announced, which happened just as Neville sat next to Blaise.

Standing up and pointing his wand at his throat the headmaster announced, “It is with great sadness that I must announce that late last night Professor Binns left us and departed for his next Great Adventure. As such all History of Magic lessons will be free periods until we acquire a new professor,” before sitting down again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Harry ?” Hermione asked him in an overly sweet voice.

“Yeah, I exorcized him, and before you try and tell a teacher I made sure that it can’t be traced back to me,” Harry replied.

“Why did you even want to exorcize him?”

“His classes were insufferably boring, and I’d rather not be even more bored overall than I usually am,” Harry replied, “Now, I’m bored, and want to learn more about wizard ghosts so does anyone want to help interrogate a house ghost with me?”

“I don’t have anything I need to do, so why not, it might be interesting,” Neville said.

“So, Nev. Which ghost should we interrogate? I don’t wanna go to Sir Nicholas, cus he’s pretty nice, maybe one of the more standoffish ghosts?”

“I mean, you said you want to learn about wizard ghosts right? Why not ask the Grey Lady? She’s the ghost for Ravenclaw, although I don’t know where we’d find her,” Neville replied.

It took a while, but with the help of Sir Nicholas and a few spare hours, they eventually managed to track down the Grey Lady who, according to Nick, was so reclusive that he didn’t even know her name.

“Hey there, my name’s Harry, and that's Neville, what’s yours?” Harry asked.

All she did was turn to give Harry a dispassioned look before starting to glide away.

“Tell me your name!” Harry shouted towards her with more of a force behind it.

Seemingly being compelled the Grey Lady turned around and said “My name is Helena,”

“Well, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the nature of magical ghosts,”

“What are your questions,” she asked, with an almost fearful look on her face.

 “Well, I was wondering why magical ghosts are so much more passive than the ghosts of non-magicals, ‘cus ghosts of muggles are prone to just becoming super violent unless they’re a death omen, but none of you guys are trying to murder us,” Harry said.

Looking a mite relieved she replied “I am… uncertain. In my life I seldom interacted with those of non-magical birth or being, and even less did I interact with spirits. If I were to speculate, I would think it might be due to the presence of magic that permeates our body.”

“Huh, interesting theory. Anyways, that’s all I really wanted to ask, so… bye,”

It was as they were leaving the seventh floor that Neville commented that Helena’s reaction to being told to tell him her name was rather odd. Personally, he agreed, but figured it was something to investigate later, especially given everything else he had planned.

The rest of October went by normally, bar a few oddities, like that weird blond kid trying to steal something that Neville’s grandmother sent him, and then he tried to challenge him to duel, but Harry just ignored him. Obviously, there were also the weird occurrences with Peeves and the Weasley Twins, the latter of which Harry might have set on Draco (or was it Drago?) for being annoying. Things only got more interesting on Halloween.

Now, Halloween was a funny day for Harry. Some people might have been expecting him to be upset, seeing as how his parents had died on Halloween, but he wasn’t. They died before he could remember them, and he’d been confronted by death so early that he really wasn’t bothered by the reminder. If anything, he was on edge, seeing as how Halloween tended to attract supernatural disasters.

Well, turned out he was right about something happening, just wrong about what side of the supernatural it would be.

It had already been an… interesting day. Ron seemed to be weirdly incapable of getting the levitation charm down, it was lucky Hermione wasn’t in their class, or they might have come to blows. It was the feast itself that lead to the disaster. The hall was decorated with live bats and floating jack-o-lanterns, which was a little impressive. It was as he was just beginning to dig into his turkey breast that Professor Quirrel ran into the Hall, looking like he had been in a fight, and yelled “Troll in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know.” Then promptly passed out, which lowered Harry’s opinion of him just a little.

As soon as people started freaking out Harry snuck over to the Twins and whispered to them “I’m gonna need you guys to make a distraction for me to sneak off, in return I’ll let y’all test one of your pranks on me,” to which the twins agreed and said they’d make sure it was loud so he knew when to go. As people started to stand up to go to their common rooms they set it off and he snuck out, snagging Hermione and Blaise on his way out.

Hidden in an alcove Hemione whisper-yelled “Harry, what are you doing! There. Is. A. Troll on the loose!”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna deal with it. Oi, Black Widow, I know you’ve got some kinda poison with you, I’m gonna need it,” Harry said.

As Blaise handed over a glass vial and Harry started reaching down to his boots Hermione asked in a slightly hysterical voice “Why don’t you let the staff deal with it? And why do you just carry poison, Blaise?”

Answering both questions Harry said “I don’t trust authority, and his mom tells him to. Anyways, I’m gonna need y’all’s help, in case I need some typ’a spell,”

As they waited Blaise ignored Hermione’s minor freakout and asked “How are you going to deal with it if not with magic?”

“This,” Harry said as he started pouring the poison onto the knife that Frank gave him, specifically made to absorb poisons.

“Where did you get a knife!” Hermione yelled as Harry took off his cloak, leaving just his Hunting outfit.

“I always carry two on me. Anyways, let’s get going,” Harry said as he was heading up the stairs. At a look from Hermione, he merely said, “Mione, you’ve been in the dungeons, there’s no way a troll could fit in there,”

It was just as they had gotten near the restrooms (and after Harry spied Grease Ball heading to the Forbidden Corridor that he’d been meaning to check out) that they smelt something absolutely awful.

Seeing that the troll had gone into a bathroom the trio stopped just outside.

“Okay, I’m gonna distract it, and then I’m gonna need you guys to get rid of its club so we’re in less danger when I try to deal with it. Ready? Let's go,”

As they burst into the restroom Blaise and Hermione readied their wands to simultaneously levitate the club away.

Seeing that his friends were ready Harry shouted “Hey, ya big ugly lunk!” to get the troll's attention.

In the time it took for Blaise and Hermione to levitate the club out of the troll's hand (successfully confusing it further), Harry managed to make his way behind the troll. Just as he ran to jump on its back he yelled at his friends to take cover, before he proceeded to stab the troll in the eye with his knife, twisted it then pulled it back out.

As he was climbing up off of the troll’s prone body Hermione asked, “Is it… dead?”

“It’d be kinda hard to survive having part of your brain blended a little, so I’m gonna say yes,” 

It was as Blaise and Hemione were getting out of their cove that the teachers finally arrived at the bathroom to deal with the troll.

Seeing that the troll was lying prone on the floor Snape knelt over it and cast a few spells before announcing that it was dead.

“What on earth happened here?” McGonagall demanded.

“Well Professor, when I heard that there was a troll rampaging around I decided that someone needed to deal with the problem, and the Headmaster hadn’t indicated that there was going to be an active effort, so I dealt with it,” Harry answered her.

“How did you come to the conclusion that the Headmaster wasn’t going to attempt to deal with the troll?” McGonagall asked, slightly incensed.

“He told everyone to head back to their common rooms, two of which are in the dungeons, which is where the troll was supposed to be,” Harry deadpanned.

“Be that as it may, you are children, you could have died!”

“Well, we didn’t and for the record , I did have a plan,” Harry said, “And it did work out so…”

“How did you even manage to kill a troll?” McGonagall asked, looking like she would need a drink after everything that had happened.

“With a knife, obviously , and in case you’re wondering there aren’t any rules against carrying weapons,”

“Regardless of how well your plan went, 25 points each will be deducted from all three of you,” McGonagall said “Now, the feast is continuing in the common rooms, you are to head directly to them.”

As soon as the three had left the bathroom Hermione immediately whirled around on Harry.

“What on earth was that? Where did you learn to fight well enough to kill things more than twice your size?” Hermione demanded.

“Dude, you’re going to have to tell her,” Blaise remarked.

“Do I have to though?” At a look from Blaise, he said: “Fine, but if she freaks out then you owe me 10 galleons.”

“What are you two talking about?” Hermione demanded.

“Okay, I have a question for you Hermione. You know how there’s a crap ton of dangerous things that are magic?” Seeing her nod in confirmation, “Well, they aren’t all that well contained, and some are known better, and appear more frequently, in the muggle world. There’s a group of people, some magical, most muggle, that hunt down supernatural creatures that actively endanger civilians,”

Seeing that she was following, Harry continued “Well, when I was younger, before I knew about the magical world, I had a… precarious encounter with a wendigo, which lead me down the path of becoming a Hunter,”

“So, let me get this straight. You have actively chosen to go into a business that entails killing things,”

“Yeah,”

“I have questions, and I will be getting answers,”

It took maybe an hour and a half, but Harry managed to convince her that, yes he was being serious, no he wasn’t going crazy, yes more dubious supernatural things like demons did exist, and no he wasn’t going to hunt magicals that were born with their power. By the time they were on the seventh floor, he had even managed to convince her to help him with the research end.

Overall, it was a pretty good night in Harry’s eyes. Hermione thought she might’ve been going insane, and Blaise was mildly entertained.

Chapter Text

When he’d gone into it, Harry would have thought there wouldn’t be many downsides to taking down a troll but turns out there were. For one, everything else seemed so boring, why did he have to go to class when he could be hunting trolls? The second outcome was more welcome, that being the weird blond kid being too scared to look at him anymore.

Honestly, his perpetual boredom might become an issue, but he had plans . That’s why he was currently sitting at the Hufflepuff table with the rest of his friends.

“Hey, y’all wanna do something fun?” he asked.

“Now, is this what most people would consider fun, like learning magic , or what you would consider fun because those are two very different things, Harry,” Hermione replied.

“Obviously my kind of fun. I’m bored, turns out troll-slaying makes things seem comparatively dull, so I was thinking we could go explore the forbidden corridor,”

“Even if we did say yes, we do have classes to go to,” Hermione said at the same time as Blaise said, “Yeah, why not,”

“I wasn’t thinking of doing it now, ya book jockey,” Harry said teasingly, “Nah, I was thinking we could go after curfew, that way it’s more fun,”

“You know what, at this point I’m going to have to come with, just to make sure we have a believable lie if we’re caught,” Hermione replied, exasperated.

“That’s the spirit, Mione! You up for it Nev?”

“Eh, why not? You always seem to be where the interesting things are,” Neville replied.

“Then it’s settled! Let’s all meet up on the second floor at nine,”

That was how the quartet found themselves sneaking around the castle, to try and see why an entire section of it had been barred as forbidden. Once they had finally reached the door to the corridor Harry knelt down to pick the lock, at least until Hermione used the unlocking charm on the door, demonstrating that magic can have its uses. Heading into the corridor and locking it, they finally started to relax a little bit.

“Huh, there’s only one room at the end,” Harry commented, “Wonder what’s behind the door,”

As the four walked up to the door Harry pulled his silver knife out his boot, better safe than sorry if something tried to ambush them. Turned out it wasn’t necessary seeing as the only thing behind the door was a sleeping cerberus. Closing the door the four convened together.

“Okay, important question. Why is there a cerberus in the castle,” Neville asked.

“I think the question should be what’s under the trapdoor it’s guarding,” Hermione said.

“I just want to know what’s so important that it’s hidden at Hogwarts and has, at the very least, a cerberus guarding it,”

“Good point Blaise,” Harry said, “Hermione, could you look up how to incapacitate a cerberus,”

“Sure, though it’ll have to wait until I go home for the winter break, I don’t have my mythology compendiums with me,”

“Yeah, makes sense, let’s head back to our dorms,”

After learning that there was a cerberus in the castle, Harry did attempt to research their weaknesses, though he hadn’t found anything in the library, and then it was winter break, so he figured it was a better idea to leave it to Hermione.

The castle was a lot quieter during the holidays seeing as most of the students had chosen to go home. Ron and the Weasley Twins had chosen to stay, but they mostly spent their time in the common room. Harry, however, had found a spell to copy a book's contents when he was searching for a cerberus’ weaknesses, so he mostly spent his time in the library. It took a while, but he was eventually able to get the spell, so most of his time in the library was spent copying the contents of various compendiums on creatures so he would have access to them when he wasn’t at school. With how much time he was spending in the library he had barely even realized that it was Christmas, and probably wouldn’t have if there weren’t presents at the foot of his bed. Seeing the presents also prompted him to realize he hadn’t gotten any for his friends, though he figured they probably wouldn’t mind getting them a little late.

After getting out of bed and dressed for the day, he picked a present at random, which turned out to be a copy of the Ars Goetia from Frank, with a little note attached that said it was sent to him by Bobby. Blaise had gotten him a new satchel that was apparently enchanted to be bottomless, with a note attached that read So that you always have your supplies. You know the ones. Hermione and Neville had both sent him a book, a mythology compendium and a herblore book respectively.

The most interesting part was the unlabeled gift. All it contained was a cloak and an unsigned note that said it used to belong to his father. Seeing that there weren’t any sigils on it that would be used to curse someone he decided to put it on and look in the mirror, which gave him a bit of a shock, seeing as he was invisible. Deciding to put that little puzzle to the side he repacked the contents of his old satchel into his new one, as well as adding some herbs and ingredients that wizards wouldn’t normally use.

Seeing as attendance at the Christmas feast wasn’t actually mandatory, Harry figured he’d explore the castle and the grounds just to see what happened. That was how he found himself being stared down at by a centaur.

Well, that was a bit charitable. It was more like he was being held at spear-point by the centaur.

“What are you doing in our lands?” the black-coated centaur demanded of him.

“I was bored and wanted to explore the grounds.”

“So you decide to explore the forest that your kind has deemed Forbidden?”

“Dude, if you’re gonna hold me up at spearpoint you might as well tell me your name. I’m Harry, if you were wondering.”

It was just as he had said that, that another centaur came up to them, this time with one that had a light tan coat of hair.

“Bane, it would be ill-advised to execute this human. The stars would be most displeased if you were to disregard their plans.”

Lowering his spear Bane remarked “I do not like this Firenze, these are our lands,”

“You need not like it, but you must follow their paths.”

“Hey, anyone want to clue the human into what y’all are on about?”

“The stars and planets speak of your actions Mr. Potter. You are held strongly under the auspices of Mercury,”

“And that means what, exactly? ‘Cus I’ve never been the best at astronomy, and I hope to God there isn’t a fuckin’ pagan god here,”

“You hold many secrets, and many secrets are held from you,” was all Firenze had to say before he and Bane left.

“Fuck’s sake, why is nothing normal here?” Harry grumbled under his breath.

It was a while later that Harry found a… disturbing but intriguing mirror in the castle. Now, he hadn’t been trying to find a mirror, he’d been trying to sneak down to the restricted section (using that new cloak he had), but he got waylaid by the fact that Snape was patrolling the corridors, so he hid in an empty classroom.

An empty classroom that turned out to have a creepy mirror.

Which also happened to have a weird inscription carved into it.

Deciding to see what the inscription read before trying to interact with the mirror he saw it said 

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

When read like one normally would. It took him a couple minutes to figure out what it meant, seeing as he thought it might be in a dead tongue like most spells were based on. When he figured it out, it was so much less impressive. It was just backward.

“‘I show not your face but your heart's desire’ huh? Let’s see what my heart desires.”

Stepping forward so he could only see the mirror's face instead of the entire thing, Harry saw something he hadn’t been expecting. See, if you had asked him beforehand he might have said that his heart's desire was being the world's best hunter, or being surrounded by friends that would help him every step of the way. Instead what he saw was an older version of himself, one that looked at peace with what he had done.

“What the fuck…” he whispered “I only make that face when I’m satisfied, so maybe I am the best hunter? But then why do I look so… peaceful?”

With not a little bit of horror, Harry asked “Oh God, am I… retired?”

It was at that point that Harry decided to avoid that room for the rest of the year. Stupid magic mirror probably wasn’t even telling the truth.

It was as Harry closed the door behind him that another person seemingly appeared in the room. One by the name of Albus Dumbledore. All he could think about Harry’s encounter with the Mirror was to ask “What on earth is a Hunter?”

Chapter Text

It was a day or two after the Hogwarts Express brought the students back from the break that Harry had enough time to actually talk to Hermione and find out what she had found. Naturally, he found her in the library.

“Hey Hermy! What did ya find out over the holidays? I tried to do some research but there was a conspicuous absence of information on cerberi.”

“Well, I wasn’t able to find much, but the main mention I found was the inclusion of the Cerberus in the myth of Orpheus, who managed to lull it to sleep by playing his lyre,” she replied, “So logic would dictate that with an actual cerberus playing some form of music would have a similar effect.”

“Cool, so now we just need to find out who plays an instrument in our group. You happen to play any instruments?”

“I had piano lessons when I was younger, but I don’t actually play any instrument. In a similar vein of discussion, why did you specify that you wanted me to research how to incapacitate the cerberus?”

“Oh, that’s cus I’m gonna kidnap it. It might be something dangerous but it’s not actively trying to harm the students, and it’s just inhumane to have the dog trapped in a small room, so I’m gonna steal it and then probably let Blaise take it home.”

“A bit of an… unorthodox method of removing the threat, but it isn’t going to harm the creature so I’ll leave you to it.”

After interrogating Blaise and Neville, it turned out that none of his friends could play a single instrument. Personally, Harry thought that that was a statistical improbability, but what did he know? Deciding he would learn how to play the lyre to try and lull the dog to sleep, his main problem was trying to figure out how to get a lyre in the first place. 

“Hey Fred, I’ve got a question for ya.”

“What might we be able to help you with our entrepreneurial exorcist?” George asked.

“D’ya happen to know where I’d be able to find an instrument that most people haven’t played with any regularity in… oh about a hundred years?”

“You do approach us with the most interesting of issues, don’t you our little Harrikins? George, would you happen to know, because I certainly don’t.”

“I’m quite rightly stumped Fred. Maybe the Húsvættir would know.” Fred responded.

“Did you just say Húsvættir?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, they look after the castle and cook the food. They’re in the kitchens most of the time.”

“No, I know what Húsvættir are, I just needed to double check so I can make sure to ward my bed properly. Anyways, where are the kitchens?”

After a little deliberation, the twins decided to show Harry the way to the kitchens, as well as the secret to opening the door. He was promptly confronted by a massive crowd of spirit-like beings, all of which varied in size and solidity.

“What might we help you with sirs?” they all chorused.

“Okay, totally not creepy,” Harry muttered, “Anyways, I was wondering where I could find old stuff, like old instruments?”

Once again in weird synchronicity, the Húsvættir said “You could try the Room of the Lost.”

“Which would be where, exactly?”

“To access the Room of the Lost walk thrice in front of Barnabas whilst thinking of that which you wish most.”

“Thanks…”

With that Harry and the twins left the kitchens, with the twins letting him know that the Húsvættir had probably been talking about the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. It took him a while to find the right corridor (why did a castle have to be so frustrating to try and navigate?) but he did eventually manage to locate it, open up the room, and get a lyre that wasn’t completely wrecked.

“Hey Blaise, would you happen to know how to fix a lyre?”

“No, but my mother has a private musician that probably will. I’m going to assume that you also need to learn how to play at least one song,” seeing Harry nod he continued “I’ll ask my mother to send a simple song and instructions on how to play it when I ask her if her musician can fix a lyre,”

Though they had to wait a couple of days for a reply from Blaise’s mother, she sent a letter back with instructions on how to play some basic sheet music, as well as saying that they would have to send the lyre to her so she could have it repaired, which would apparently take a while.

“Well, it’s annoying that it’ll take a while but that does give me time for something else.”

“What exactly would that be Ghost Boy?”

“Well Blaise, I need to ask someone about creatures, and you’re the gossip of the group. Who would be the best person to ask questions about shrinking magical creatures?”

“Probably Tracey Davis in Slytherin. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s magical creatures.”

“Cool, I gotta go ask Sue something,” Harry said before getting up from the Ravenclaw table and heading to the Hufflepuffs “Hey Susan quick question. How illegal would kidnapping a cerberus be?”

“What are you planning on doing this time Harry?”

“I’m not gonna say, that would be a confession. Anyways, that wasn’t an answer.”

“Well, I can tell you that it would be incredibly illegal, on account of the fact that it would be theft and the fact that cerberi are highly regulated.”

“What about if it were in a school full of children?”

“Still illegal, but I wouldn’t try and stop you.”

After that little pitstop, he went and asked Tracey if spells could affect cerberi, and if there were any spells that could shrink them for at least a month. According to her, most spells didn’t really affect them, seeing as they have some level of inherent Beast magic, but there were a couple of spells that could shrink them. Problem was that they were a little complicated, and would take him a month or two to learn.

For the next month all Harry really did when he had free time was learn that spell and wait for the lyre to be repaired. That part of the plan finally paid off, but only by the time that there was a month before the exams, meaning he had to dole out his spare time between doing some studying so that Hermione wouldn’t kill him, as well as learning to play the lute.

It was the day after the exams ended that he was ready to put the plan into effect.

As they were all sitting outside, relaxing Harry decided to bring up the topic.

“Hey guys, seeing as the exams are over do y’all want to see what’s under the trapdoor in the third-floor corridor?”

Given Blaise and Neville’s boredom, as well as Hermione’s insistence on making sure there’s someone that the teachers actually like there so that they have a believable lie, they were finally in agreement on something. It took a little bit of time, but they managed to figure out how to get there all at the same time. Harry, Blaise and Hermione would collect Neville whilst under Harry’s cloak and then head to the corridor.

At the appointed time the Quartet met and crept up to the forbidden corridor. As they got into the corridor Harry pulled off the cloak and pulled the lyre out of his satchel.

“You guys ready?” hearing forms of agreement from everyone he signaled Neville to open the door, whilst getting ready to play the lyre, only to see… an enchanted harp and a sleeping dog.

“Are. You. Kidding me! I learned to play the lyre for no damn reason!”

“Yes, yes Harry such a shame. Why is someone else breaking in though?” Hermione asked as Harry shrunk the cerberus and gave it to Blaise.

“I dunno, but we’re gonna find out anyways.” Harry said as he opened the trapdoor, cast a cushioning charm, and yelled “Allons-y!” before jumping in the trapdoor.

Chapter Text

As Harry jumped down the trapdoor he heard Hermione yell in surprise. He was falling for a while until he hit the bottom. At least what he thought was the bottom.

“Hey, guys! Jump on down, it’s all good! Although there is some kinda plant in place of a floor! I think we have to deal with it to get through! It’s also disgustingly bright!”

Following his announcements, the other three jumped down with Blaise being first and Neville being last.

“Well, we’re in it now. Anyone know what plant this is?”

“Oh! I know what this is!” Neville yelled, “It’s Dusk Gilliflower.”

“What is that, Nev?” Harry asked.

“It’s this really neat plant, it’s why there’s this bright light everywhere. It’s got this unique property where it’s super malleable in the darkness, but it’s rock hard in the light. We’ll need to get rid of the light if we want to get down,”

“Hermione you know any spells for this? ‘Cus I sure as hell don’t.”

“Well, the light is everywhere, so a standard Nox wouldn’t be effective. I suppose it might be a modified form of Lumos Solem, which means a standard Finite Incantatem wouldn’t work. Harry, hand me some parchment and a quill, I need to make a counter quickly.” 

After a few minutes, in which Hermione wrote down notes that made no particular sense to Harry she stood up and, with an overly complex wand movement, said “Exstinguere Lucem!” causing the room to be plunged into darkness.

“Hermione, did you just invent a new spell, just for this? And more importantly, how do you know how to make spells?” Blaise asked, bewildered.

“Yes, I did, and I know how to because I bought multiple books on the subject before we got to school. Also, I happen to be a good mathematician.”

“Touche.”

“Guys, let’s help Neville move this.”

Eventually, they managed to make a big enough hole to get through, and then they dropped through to the bottom. What was in front of them was a long corridor. It took a while for them to get to the end, but they eventually wound up in a room with a massive troll that had been knocked unconscious, for which they were all thankful. Harry didn’t think he’d be able to take out one that big, nor did the others want to try and help. Carefully edging their way around the troll, they came to the next room, upon which fire sprung up in the doorways.

“Okay, a piece of parchment and a line of bottles. What’s the bet some of them are poison?” Harry said.

Walking forward he picked up the parchment and read aloud.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

“Hey, I was right! Anyways, Blaise, you’re up, you’re our Black Widow.”

After deliberating on the riddle, as well as consulting Hermione for help, Blaise spoke.

“If we take the riddle as an honest clue, then it should be these two that take us forward or backward,” Blaise said, pointing at the respective potions, “But I don’t think it is an honest clue. Snape is probably the one who set this one up, and he’s logical, logical enough to realize someone might solve the puzzle. Let me try something.”

He then proceeded to take out an amber-colored vial with an eye-dropper and dispensed two drops into the bottles.

“Just as I thought. They were poisons. Now, if we reorient the clue around that fact that means that… those two should be nettle wine, and if we drop some in… yup, I was right. So that means that… it’s these two.”

After Blaise motioned to the one that would carry them forward, and the one that would take them back Hermione brought up a problem. “Each bottle only has enough for two people. Who’s going forward and who’s going back?”

“I think I should go forward, I have the most combat skills out of any of us, and there is still an unknown variable at play.” Harry said.

“Fair enough” Hermione replied “But who’s going with you? You might need a new spell made, or knowledge about poisons, or plants.”

“Hm. Blaise, give me your most potent, least detectable poison, and if you have one a general antidote/antivenom. I don’t think there’ll be another repeat of something like this, and I’d rather you not die. Hermione, what do you reckon might be after this?”

“Well, so far these have all been rather… specific. Almost as though they were tailored to our strengths. An obscure plant that required intelligence to solve, a trial of poisons and potions, and then an unrelated troll, which might have been due to our Halloween escapade. The first seems tailored to Neville and me, with this one being tailored to Blaise. If I were to guess, the next will be a trial that centers around your… specialties .”

“I think Neville then, it’ll make it easier to explain certain… things once this is done, and there might be some herbs I’m unfamiliar with.”

“If you’re sure, then let’s do it that way,”

As Blaise handed over the requested items, Harry and Neville drank some of the potion, and walk into the fire, emerging into a room with a circle and symbols on the floor, as well as the door, matches, and a collection of dried herbs on a podium.

“Well, looks like ‘Mione was right, though how the Headmaster figured it out is something I need to find out. Anyways, let’s see what we have here. Agrimony, anise, basil, bayberry, betony, bindweed and cayenne. Then on the door is… hm. I’m fairly certain that this is the most sloppily constructed ritual I’ve ever seen. What’s on the… yeah, no only like, half of those are right. Stand back Nev, this might take a little.”

Saying that Harry set his satchel down and took out various bags of herbs, as well as chalks, a bowl, a knife that looked more ceremonial than his regular ones, a leather notebook, as well as a lighter. He got to work and wiped away about half of the symbols on the floor and started rewriting them. Once that was done he cleared off the podium and set the bowl on it, and started putting in some of the herbs from the podium, as well as the ones he had taken out. He then set it down in the center, slit his palm open, and let some blood drip on, whilst chanting something in Latin, and then set it on fire.

After the mixture burnt up completely, the symbols on the door vanished completely. He packed everything up and looked over to Neville, who looked confused and said: “C’mon, we’ve got a mystery to solve.”

As they both walked into the final room, Harry applied the poison Blaise had given to him to his knife.

The first thing Harry noticed about the room was the presence of that weird mirror, as well as Professor Quirrell, who seemed to be arguing with himself.

“Huh, didn’t expect to see you here Professor.” Harry said, shocking Quirrell out of his argument.

“Ah yes Potter, as expected. Though the Longbottom boy is a slight surprise. I suppose you thought it would be Severus here. Who would suspect me when that overgrown bat given human form resides in the castle.”

“What are you on about, why would I think Snape would be down here? Come to think of it, why are you down here? I just wanted to know what was past that cerberus.”

“Intriquiging.” the Professor muttered to himself. “Why, I’m here to acquire the Philosopher’s Stone for my Lord of course.”

Turning back to the mirror Quirrell snapped his fingers and a set of ropes were conjured around Harry and Neville. “Now, the mirror is obviously the key to this infernal trial, but how do I use it? I can see myself giving the Stone to my Master, but I can’t get it.”

Deciding to stall whilst he started cutting the ropes binding him, Harry asked “By Master, I’m assuming you mean Voldemort? ‘Cus that’s the only dude I can think of that would be called a Lord or Master nowadays. Also, who were you talking to when we walked in?”

“Why the Dark Lord of course.” Quirrel said, as though it explained everything, before turning back to the mirror once again.

It was as Harry was bemoaning that their Professor was possessed that he heard a high, and rather nasal, voice call out “Use the boy… use Potter.”

“Of course, my Lord. Potter come here” Quirrell commanded, snapping his fingers.

Stepping up to the mirror Harry looked at it and noticed that the image was unsurprisingly the same. Looking back at Quirrell, who seemed to be expecting something, he said:

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re expecting, I just see myself, nothing special." It was as he was saying that that he saw Neville looking surprised and realized he hadn’t told him to not look in the mirror.

Just as he’d had that realization he heard that same voice call out “The Longbottom boy, he has the Stone. Let me speak to them, to try and convince them.”

“My Lord, are you sure, you mightn’t be strong enough.”

“For this, I have enough strength.”

Quirrell then proceeded to reach up and started to unwrap his turban, slowly but surely revealing his bald head. Well, bald except for the face on the back.

“Harry Potter and Neville Longbotttom. Do you see what I have become? Merely a wraith, less than a ghost, having form only when sharing anothers body. Strength has only been given to me by consuming unicorn blood-” Voldemort was cut off mid-monologue by Harry.

“Wow, for being so feared you’re real ugly. Also quick question, are you a pedophile? ‘Cus that’s the only reason I can think of for why you were so interested in a baby.”

“Your quips and jokes will not save you Potter. But no, there was a reason for my targeting you. I do not suppose that that fool of a puppet-master Dumbledore would have told you, but there was a prophecy made. Though I do not know it’s entirety it said that either of you would be the one to defeat me. As I have already been defeated, it does not matter, and thus you will die. Now, give me the Stone.”

“You like monolguing, don’t you? Anyways, your unintentional stalling gave Nev enough time. Now Neville!”

As soon as Harry yelled, Neville started shooting off random spells at Voldemort's face, causing Quirrell to have to turn around to deal with the spells. Conveniently, this also gave Harry enough time to get close to Quirrell. Unfortunately, Quirrell started to fire off spells at Harry, with some hitting Harry, but he did eventually get close to Quirrell and swept his legs from underneath.

Given the opening, Harry wrestled Quirrell’s wand away from him and shoved his knife into his chest, just above where his heart was. As soon as that happened, a dark mist rose up from the body and rushed at Harry but just passed through him.

“Well, that was… interesting. Probably gonna be harder to get off the hook for killing a teacher. Nev, you know any good fire spells?”

“Well, there’s always Lacarnum Inflamari.” he replied, demonstrating the wand motion, “Why do you ask though?”

“Cus of this. Harry said, proceeding to cremate Quirrell’s remains.

“Harry, why did you do that?” Neville asked, slightly concerned for his friend’s sanity.

“Cus I don’t want to deal with Dumbledore learning I killed him, so I’m gonna say the power of love gave me some… I dunno magic protection that disintegrated him.”

“I don’t think he’ll believe that.” Neville replied as Harry started doing… something.

“Yeah he will, he’s a little loopy. Before ya ask, I’m making a fake stone so we can keep the real one. And… done!”

Just as he said that Blaise, Hermione, and Dumbledore ran into the room. More like strolled for Blaise. Seeing the state Harry was in Dumbledore said “Let us head to the Hospital Wing, so we can discuss what has happened today.”

“Fine by me.”

Chapter Text

“Now, I’m sure that you must have questions, and rightly so. I will do my best to answer them honestly, though if I do not answer them, just know that a valid reason is present.”

“You guys mind if I go first?” Harry asked. Seeing that the other three were fine with it he proceeded to ask his first question, with the intention of making sure that he wouldn’t get in trouble.

“My first question is: What happened to Professor Quirrel? For some reason he couldn’t touch me.”

“Ah, a prescient question and one that I can answer. I suspect that, due to your mother sacrificing herself for you, that you have a protection against Voldemort, one forged by her love for you. As long as you have it he cannot harm you.” At that, Neville looked confused and slightly concerned, whilst Blaise and Hermione looked skeptical.

“Hermione, you wanna ask the next question?”

“Actually, yes I would. Professor, I was wondering why you would place the Stone in a school. An artifact that grants immortality seems to be obvious bait, at least from my point of view, though others would likely think the same.”

“Ah, it would appear you did see through to some of my intentions, Miss. Granger. Though I cannot divulge my reasoning for it, you are correct in assuming that it was intended to be bait, though I must admit that I perhaps could have laid the trap elsewhere. Now, one more question I think, lest Madam Pomfrey ban me from the Hospital Wing.

Seeing his chance, Harry asked the main question he had wanted to. “Sir, Voldemort mentioned a prophecy. Why is that?”

“Ah. That is not the way in which I had hoped for you to find out, I had hoped that you would be able to live a normal childhood, but it seems not to be. Voldemort was, in fact, correct in saying that there was a prophecy, though he never learned it in whole, as his spy never learned the whole of it. In short, it stated that, as the seventh month dies, a child would be born to those that thrice defied him. The part his spy had not heard stated that he would mark the child as his equal. The child would be endowed with 'power he knows not'"

“I am of the opinion that the ‘power’ that Voldemort knows not is the protection that your mother imparted upon you, as the one thing that he has no understanding of is that of a mother’s love.”

“Would it be possible to have the full version sir? So that I can really take it in later?” Harry asked, looking a little skeptical.

“Of course, let me write it out.” 

With that said, Dumbledore wrote on and handed Harry a piece of parchment, and left the Hospital Wing. Harry and the others were kept at the Hospital Wing for a while longer so that Madam Pomfrey could ensure that they were fine and that the potions hadn’t affected them in any manner.

It was as they were relaxing outside after they were released, that Neville spoke up.

“I can’t believe Dumbledore came up with the power of love explanation independently.”

“What do you mean independently?” Hermione asked.

“Harry, you’re explaining this, because I can’t be bothered.”

“Fine. Quirrel didn’t actually disintegrate by touching me. What actually happened is that I… killed him, and then disintegrated his body using a fire spell. Before you say anything, he was possessed by Voldemort, soooo.” Harry answered.

“How did we become friends again?”

“You were a mega nerd, that’s how. Anyways, I’m more interested in this ‘prophecy’.” Harry said, whilst looking at the parchment.

“Why, though? It’s not like it’ll matter.” Blaise commented.

“It’s because it’s a fake.” Harry said. “And before you say anything Hermione, Dumbledore believes the power of love saved me. He’s a little crazy.”

“Why d’ya think its fake?”

“Well, Neville, and the rest of you, have you ever heard of a khrēsmós ?” Seeing them shake their head, he continued “It’s a type of prophecy, specifically one thats spoken. The problem is, a khrēsmós can’t be valid unless it’s spoken by a priestess of an oraculor order.”

“I’m not seeing the issue.”

“Hermione, do you think a priestess of an oracular order would come all the way to Britain to deliver a prophecy? I’m pretty sure that the one who delivered this is the Divination professor. Who is verifiably not a priestess.”

“Oh, I see the problem.” Blaise said, “She probably made it up to get the job.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Guys, it’s the end of the year, can we focus on life threatening plots next year?”

“Fine,” Harry said. “It is a bit of a downer conversation.”

Eventually, the end of the year came, and so did the Leaving Feast, and along with it came the announcement of the House Cup winners.

“Another year come and gone, another feast to be eaten. I hope you’ll forgive my waffling, but the House Cup must be awarded. Now, in fourth place comes Gryffindor, at three hundred and seventeen points. In third place is Hufflepuff, with three hundred and eighteen. Second is Ravenclaw with four hundred and thirty-six. Finally is Slytherin with four hundred and sixty-two.”

Naturally, this prompted much celebration on Slytherin’s part, and grumbling on the rest of the Houses, though it didn’t last for long, as Dumbledore continued.

“However, recent events need to be accounted for. To Neville Longbottom, I award twenty points for demonstrating unerring proficiency in Herbology. To Hermione Granger, I award fourty points for displaying her wit, and invention proficiency under pressure. For Blaise Zabini, I award fifty points for showing rationale, and the importance of being prepared. To Harry Potter, fifty points for showing us that knowing knowledge of the mundane can be useful for the magical.”

Naturally, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were in an uproar of excitement, given the fact that a house other than Slytherin had won, though, on the other end of the hall, the uproar was mostly Slytherin’s complaining about things like fairness, and favoritism.

It wasn’t all that much later that everyone had packed up their belongings to leave for the holidays. They were handed little notes letting them know that they weren’t allowed to practice magic over the holidays (well, the type that requires a wand), and then they boarded the Express to head back to London.

“Hey Harry, you have a phone right?” Hermione asked as the quartet walked onto the platform.

“Yeah, why?”

“I wanted to give you my number so that we could keep in touch over the holidays, seeing as you don’t have an owl and all.” She said, handing over a slip of paper.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense I guess.” He replied.

It was as he and Hermione were about to walk through the barrier that an idea came to him.

“Hey, you guys wanna meet up at Diagon to do the shopping together? Or just like, in general.”

After they all confirmed they’d be able to, he walked through the barrier and headed to where he saw Frank.

“You will not believe the year I’ve had Frank…”

“Ya can tell me about it back at the bar kid.”

Chapter Text

In some other universe, Harry Potter would have had one of the worst summers of his life. That was not this one, however. No, this Harry Potter had been having a rather good summer. He’d managed to con his friend Frank into getting him two computers(both modified to work around magic, as well as being hooked up to a private wifi network, that was altered similarly), with one of them being for his friend Hermione. The main reason he had been having a good summer was that he’d managed to strike up an email conversation with Frank’s friend Bobby. As a result, he had filled in a lot of gaps in his knowledge of demons, enough that he’d be able to hunt them, though not enough for his personal taste.

The reason it had been a had, was because he had an… annoying encounter. It started fairly early on in the day. Whilst he was out in the garden, gathering herbs to dry, some being the ones he had used the other month, he saw a pair of forest green eyes. He might not have noticed it, if it weren’t for the fact that the hedge on the property line was a dull green. As he was reaching down to his boot to draw his silver knife, the eyes vanished.

Naturally, he was on edge all day.

When he called Frank (on a cell that was similar to the laptops he had gotten), all he had to say was that he… didn’t know what it could be. His only thought was that it could be some type of land spirit. It was a decent guess, but ever so slightly wrong. The next time he encountered the creature was when his aunt came into his room to get him.

“Harry, there’s a little bearded man outside the house. He doesn’t look fully solid.”

“Goddamnit, let me go talk to it, it might be the thing that was watching me earlier.” He replied, getting up off the floor, and heading outside.

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door was a twitchy, bearded old man with what appeared to be too many scars to count. Notably, it also had the same forest green eyes he had seen earlier.

“Right, what and who are you?” Harry asked, not leaving the property line, so that he was still in the wards he’d set up.

“I is Dobby, and I is a Lutin, Mr. Harry Potter sir!” he said, clearly trembling from excitement.

“For fuck’s sake…” Harry muttered, “Right, why exactly did you hunt down where I live?”

“Because there is being a plot Mr. Harry Potter sir! It is being a most dangerous plot! You cannot be going back to Hogwarts this year!”

“And this plot would be…?” Harry prompted. Much to his surprise, and horror, Dobby started smashing his head against the sidewalk. Darting forward quickly, he grabbed Dobby to stop him.

“Okay, what was that about?”

“It is being Dobby’s Master Mr. Harry Potter sir, they is making Dobby punish himself.”

“What do you mean master? Can’t you just leave like a regular household spirit?”

“They is using evil magic to be keeping me bound.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to fix that.” Harry commented to himself, “Now, seeing as you started doing… that, after I asked what the ‘plot’ was, I’m gonna assume that it’s got something to do with them. Now, is there anything you can tell me?”

Getting a minute nod from Dobby, Harry asked “Can you tell me how it’s going to happen? Like, is it gonna be because of a spell, an artifact, something else?”

“It is being an item, but Dobby is not knowing what it is looking like.”

“That’s more than helpful. Now, I get that you don’t want me to go back ‘cus I’m like The Savior of the Wizarding World or some crap, but I managed to kill a troll with a knife, so I think I’ll be fine.”

“Mr. Harry Potter sir is being very noble, but Dobby is having to insist that you not be going back to Hogwarts.”

Deciding that discretion would be the better part of valor he decided to lie. “Okay Dobby, I won’t return to Hogwarts.”

After being hugged around the legs Dobby handed him a stack of parchment and left.

After letting his aunt know what it had been, and that he would have to add new wards around the house, he went up to his room and immediately turned all of his socks inside out.

Sitting down on his bed and looking at the letters Dobby had handed him all Harry could say was “What the fuck. Well, least I’ll have something interesting to tell the gang when we meet up in Diagon next week.”

Chapter Text

In a different world than this, Harry James Potter would have gone to Diagon Alley with a group of redheads. In that world, he would have encountered a self-absorbed idiot who's only talent was in erasing the essence of the self, and would have met an insidious blond prat. That isn’t this one, however.

In this world, Harry went to Diagon Alley a week earlier, with a group of people that trusted authority just as little as he. In this world, Harry Potter would meet a girl, a year younger than he, who would become a close ( if odd and slightly unnerving) friend. This is the tale of that day.

That day not much had happened by lunchtime, which saw Harry and his group of what was essentially fledgling hunters sat at Florean Fortescue, with Harry explaining what had happened the other week.

“So let me get this straight. A household spirit, of French origin, named Dobby, claimed that there was an insidious plot that would take place this year, and weaned specifically you?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah, weird right? Related to that, Hermione, would you mind helping me research what’s keeping him bound? I wouldn’t mind it if you checked your libraries either, guys.” After getting affirmatives from the three of them, he moved on from the topic.

“Now that that’s done with, you guys got anything you want to do?”

“I need to get stuff from Magical Mengarie for Trevor.” Neville said.

“I’m gonna come with, I wanna know what the snakes have to say this time.” Harry replied, “Anyone else wanna some with?”

Blaise decided to go with as well, mostly to see what odd pets they had in stock, whilst Hermione said she was going to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet. It was whilst Harry was listening to the snakes (half of them were insulting the customers, whilst the other half were complaining about the cold) that he had an odd encounter.

Whilst he was listening to a viper insult people, he had the odd feeling that he was being watched. Turning around he saw a small, blonde girl. Seeing that he had noticed her, she walked up to him.

“Did you know you’re being followed?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry asked.

“It’s not a person that’s following, if you were wondering.”

“Okay, what is it then?” Harry asked, wondering if a ghost had latched onto him without him noticing.

“Well, it looks like it might be a ghost, though ghosts don’t tend to get more… solid? The closer to someone’s forehead they are, so it might be a distant relative of the Blibbering Humdinger.”

Now having a minor freakout over the fact that some type of soul might have attached itself to him, Harry asked her to describe it, to which she said it looked a little snake-like and then left the store.

Heading over to the amphibian section of the store, Harry decided to ask Neville who the girl was.

“Hey Nev, would you happen to know of any wand-waver that is about, yea high, platinum blonde hair, kinda silvery eyes?”

Sighing to himself, Neville responded, “Did she look kinda… not all there?” Getting a nod, he continued “Yeah, that was probably Luna Lovegood. She has a tendency to say… odd things, especially after her mother died. I wouldn’t take what she says seriously.”

“No, I’m definitely asking Frank about what she said. She said it looked like a ghost-like thing was attached to me, and more corporeal the closer to my forehead it got.”

“I mean, it’s probably nothing, but if it’ll make you feel better I won’t stop you.”

It was after they finished up their shopping and Harry had gone back to the Hunter’s Moon with Frank that he decided to bring up the Luna Incident.

“Hey Frank, have you ever heard of a soul attaching itself to someone? On a related note, have you ever heard of a soul that fades out the further from it’s origin point it is?”

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of either of them. Closest guess I’d have is something to do with demons. Why d’ya ask?”

“According to Luna Lovegood, there is what ‘looks like it might be a ghost’ attached to my forehead that apparently looks more ‘solid’ the closer to my forehead it gets. It also looks vaguely snakelike, apparently.”

“Yeah, I’ve got no fucking clue. Didn’t ya mention some weird ghost thing happening last year?”

“Oh yeah, I did, didn’t I? Ya know, I had meant to mess around with that. Ya reckon it extends to souls in general?”

“Probably. Ya gonna ask that ghost it happened to if she’d let you run some tests?”

“Her names Helena, and yeah. I figure the first one should finding out if I can feel if something actually is a soul. After that, I honestly don’t know, but I’ll probably figure something out.”

“Well, good luck. God knows you’ll need it, if your last year is any indication.”

Chapter Text

There are many ways that a story can go, one might visualize them as branching paths, or a river and its estuaries. Depending on where one goes, and where one diverges, some events may still occur, in other routes, they may not. Though this story diverged from that which you know quite early on, some events still occur, such as those that occurred on the 31 of August that preceded, Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was early in the morning when Harry woke up. As was his routine, he checked on the wards he had set up to defend against the supernatural, as well as making sure to add a new devil’s trap, amongst the others that were present, finishing off with arming himself and hiding his rather distinctive scar. It was as he was finishing up, that Frank pulled into the driveway to take him to King’s Cross, and coincidentally arrived at the same time as Blaise.

“Hey Blaise, you gonna find us a cabin, or you gonna find your gossip circle to get the latest rumours?”

“Oh, Ghostie, you know me so well.” Blaise remarked dryly before he walked through the gate to the platform.

As he tried to follow him through, Harry ran into a minor problem. He couldn’t make it through the barrier. Whilst cursing the addled brain of meddling lutins under his breath, he decided to do what little investigation he could, leading him to come to two main conclusions. He couldn’t get anything through the gate, and there weren’t any types of symbols that were visible.

Making the decision that calling Frank to take him to Hogsmeade was a last resort, he decided to call Hermione.

“Hey ‘Mione, you wouldn’t happen to know of anything that could, oh I dunno, mess with the barrier to 9¾, would you?”

“Harry, what are you on about? Those enchantments have been in place since 1852, the bricks are practically just the spells now. I’m gonna need an explanation.”

“Okay, long story short, I’m pretty sure that one lutin that tacked me down has temporarily blocked the gateway to the platform, and that isn’t really something a household spirit can do, so is there anything that undo it that I could do, without leaving?”

“Not really, that would need a really complicated charm or some type of artifact. It’s not really something that 14-year-olds are capable of dealing with. You’ll have to get someone to apparate you to Hogsmeade.”

“Thanks Hermione, see you at Hogwarts.” Harry replied before he hung up and dialed Frank.

“Hey oldie, we’ve got a problem over here.”

“Kid, you ain't even at school yet, what on earth could be going wrong?”

“Ya remember that one lutin I mentioned to ya? Well, seems like it decided to block the barrier to the platform for me, cus I can’t get through, so you’re gonna have to take me to Hogsmeade.”

Sighing, Frank said that he would be there in a little bit, and to at least try not to have anything else go wrong. Personally, Harry thought that it was inevitable that something else would go wrong, it was just kind of the luck a Hunter has. He wasn’t entirely wrong, seeing as some weirdo (who oddly looked like that one blond asshole) decided to give him a death glare, which felt like he meant to kill him. Not much else happened seeing as Frank had gotten there.

“Okay, I’m gonna need a better explanation on what happened whilst we drive to the Moon.”

Getting in the car, Harry started, “Okay, so after you left, I was about to head into the Platform, but then Blaise got there, so we chatted a bit,  he headed on in, and I was about to follow but I walked into it like it was a solid wall. I couldn’t get anything to go through, and there weren’t any visible sigils or runes. I decided to call Hermione, she said it could only be some type of charm or artifact. Personal theory is that it’s Dobby that was messing with it whilst I was there.”

As they pulled up to the Hunter’s Moon and got out the car, Frank replied, “Kid, how the fuck do you have the worst luck possible? By the way, this is gonna be uncomfortable.”

Immediately after saying that, Frank grabbed his arm and proceeded to… not spin into the air, exactly, it was more like they were being folded by something until they were compressed through some form of tube. As they decompressed and unfolded, Harry stumbled and retched.

“What the fuck Frank! Uncomfortable is a massive fucking understatement!”

“Oh, stop complaining, portkeys are way worse. Anyways, we’re kinda way ahead of schedule, and I have a business to run, so just like, check stuff out in the village until the train pulls up. You should be able to sneak into the crowd.”

“Ah, the peak of responsibility you are. Anyways, go and do your boring things, I wanna check out the bookstore.”

In his efforts to kill some time, he decided to check out a couple of stores. The first, Tomes and Scrolls, he did actually manage to find something, specifically a rare copy of Three Occult Philosophies, though there wasn’t much else. He managed to find a couple of rare herb cuttings, as well as bundles of them over in Dogweed and Deathcap. The final store that he visited was on a whim, really. It was a bit more out the way, and it claimed to sell “Artifacts and Talismans for Defense and Offense”, so naturally he had to take a look. Most of it was kitchsy stuff that was only the base level of helpful, though there was an intriguing mirror-like object that was called a “Foe-glass”, which he figured he might as well try and back engineer to see how it worked.

Hearing the whistle of the Express, he headed over, and slipped into the crowd, looking for his friends. Seeing that they were a little bit ahead of him and deciding that he could mess with them, he snuck up behind them, just managing to overhear Neville asking Blaise if he knew where he was.

“He’s behind us, and trying to mess with us.”

“Ah, c’mon Blaisey-poo, am I not allowed to have any fun here?”

“Not when you weren’t on the Express. Now, where were you? Hermione says that you couldn’t get through the barrier?”

Falling in line with his friends Harry explained. “Yeah, when I tried to get through, it wasn’t working. Hermione’s theory is that some kinda charm or artifact was causing it. My theory is that Dobby was the true cause, using some kinda charm.”

“Only you could have something happen even before you got to school, Harry.” Neville said, before stopping, “Harry? What the fuck are those?”

“I’m wondering myself.”

Standing in front of the squad was a carriage being pulled by two undead-looking, leathery, winged horses.

“Um, guys what are you on about? There’s nothing there.” Hermione says, confused as to why her friends had stopped walking.

“It’s probably just the thestrals.” Blaise remarked, pulling himself into the carriage.

Hurrying up to the carriage, Harry sat in front of Blaise and asked “And what exactly is a thestral?”

“It’s a kind of horse, with skin made of an unidentifiable leather, with a skeletal physique. The interesting thing is that you can only see them if you’ve seen death.”

“Huh. That’s… interesting.”

As the carriage started pulling them up to the castle, the four settled into doing their own things. Harry decided to start fiddling with the Foe-Glass, while Neville was messing around with a portable mini greenhouse. Hermione was reading a book about obscure potions discoveries, whilst Blaise was filing his nails.

It was as they were settling into their different spots in the Great Hall, that Harry wondered what House that Lovegood girl was going to be in, and if he would be able to get her to help him with his experiments.

Chapter Text

Harry’s second year at Hogwarts was much the same as his first, though there were some notable differences. This year, he didn’t need to exorcize his history professor, seeing as Dumbledore had managed to find a decent replacement for him. She was from Greece and was apparently going to be moving on to teaching about the magical side of the Second World War, and how it intersected with the mundane side. The main issue he was having with the staff being boring was the new Defense Professor. Well, boring might not be the right word for Lockhart.

Fraudulent might be a better fit.

He’d already had a vague idea that Lockhart definitely wasn’t who he claimed to be from reading his books, given the major discrepancies. It wasn’t very likely that he was capable of being in Bandon and Romania for the same span of time, as the dates in “Break with a Banshee” and “Voyages with Vampires” suggested. Being in class with the pompous fool was enough to confirm his… strong dislike of the man. It didn’t hurt that he had a concerning need to constantly talk to Harry.

Given that the egotist wouldn’t be useful, Harry decided to check up on one of his more pressing issues that year.

“Hey Blaise, you make any headway researching the binding ritual?”

“Not much. I managed to find a few candidates in the family library, but they all seem to be missing something, going based off the description you gave. It’s possible that the Malfoys altered one of them, but it’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Take some notes on the ones you were researching over winter break if you could. I might be able to figure it out with that info.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

It took about a week and a half to track down Luna. It seemed that the blonde was frustratingly hard to track down when she wanted to be. He eventually found her in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons.

“Hello Luna…” Harry trailed off, noticing her quietly sneaking up to the corner of the room with a jar. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh, not at all. I had been trying to catch a Glimmering Humperdinck, but the nargles that are following you scared it off. How can I help you, Harry Potter?”

“Y’know, I would say that makes no sense, but I did kill a troll last year so normal is relative when I’m involved. Anyways, I was wondering if you’d wanna help me with some experiments?”

“Oh, I would be delighted!” Luna squealed. “I’ve always wanted to know more about ghosts.”

 “How’d ya know it was gonna be ghosts?”

“Well, there’s your odd shade friend, and I was talking to Helena the other day. She was telling me about a student that managed to compel an answer out of her.”

“How’d ya connect the dots?” Harry asked, utterly bemused by the conflicting confusion and logic that Luna seemed to be.

“Your shade friend of course. It would only follow that a student with some power of Death would be accompanied by death. When shall we be meeting with Helena?”

“I haven’t asked her yet, but probably sometime in October. I think she might be avoiding me for some reason.”

As he left the room, he called out to Luna “You’re interesting. Can’t wait to see what you’ll do.”

Harry had officially had enough of Lockhart. He had decided that he was just going to bear through the lessons if only to convince Hermione that he was a fraud. Unfortunately, she still thought you should tend to trust authority figures, even if they weren’t always the best people to trust. Harry wanted out of Lockhart’s classes, so he went about in the most Harry way possible.

It was a Saturday evening when Lockhart stepped into his office and had a mini-heart attack. He had just returned from the Great Hall, having praise and adoration heaped upon him when he saw Harry Potter sitting crosslegged on his desk.

“Hello Professor.”

“Hello Mr Potter. Did you- uh did you need something?”

“Not particularly. I mostly wished to inform you of something.”

“Ah, and, uh, what would that be?”

“Well, I know you’re a fraud, and you know you’re a fraud.” Seeing Lockhart reach for his wand, Harry continued. “Uh-uh, try anything and you’ll see how I killed a troll at 13. Now, as I was saying, you and I know you’re a fraud. I have better things to do than attend all of your classes, so I’m going to skip them when I want, and you’re not going to say a thing. Got it?”

Seeing Lockhart give a shaky nod Harry left the office, leaving Lockhart confused and concerned.

Walking to the Gryffindor common room, Harry wondered aloud “Now, where to find Helena.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, a ghost can be incredibly hard to find if they want to be. Harry found this out the hard way when he was trying to hunt down Helena. No matter where he looked he couldn’t find her. The corridor outside the Room of the Lost? Nope, not there, even though that was where he had first spoken to her. Outside Ravenclaw Tower? Nada. He eventually decided to ask Luna for her help to try and find her, given the blonde’s proclivity to the more… confusing and specterly aspects of life. Yet, even with Luna’s help, Helena still managed to evade him.

However, an opportunity to corner her soon presented itself.

“Young Mr. Potter, I wonder if you might accept an invite of mine?”

“Well, that depends on what it is Sir Nicholas."

“Why, an invitation to my 500th Deathday Party of course!”

“Base answer, yeah, course I’ll go. Aside from that, I have three questions.”

“Of course, of course, ask away.”

“One, can I bring a couple people with, two, when is it, three, is Helena going to be there?”

“It’s going to be Halloween night, and bring as many guests as you wish! Oh, and of course she will, she attends all of the Deathday’s hosted in the castle. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been tryin’ to find her to ask her a question, even enlisted Luna to help me, but we can’t seem to find her. I think she’s avoiding me. See ya later Sir Nicholas, I got some invites to extend.”

Naturally, the first person Harry had thought to invite to go to a ghost party was Luna who, as one might have expected, was ecstatic to go with him. When he asked the rest of his mini-Roadhouse crew if anyone else wanted to go with him, Hermione said she had an independent study she was busy with for Charms so couldn’t. Blaise had heard that a third-year Ravenclaw, David Cooper was planning on breaking up with Cassius Warrington at the feast and he wanted to see how explosive it was. Neville, however, said he was free, and planning on attending for the sole purpose of reigning in the combination of Harry’s bad luck and Luna’s… Luna-ness.

Standing at the entrance to the dungeons, Harry greeted Neville and Luna.

“Right, Grass-guy, Moon Girl, you ready to have a party with ghosts, and trying to bother Helena to help me with my experiments?”

Getting nods from both of his cohorts, they started heading to the ballroom that Sir Nick had mentioned, with the corridors getting colder, and the candle flames turning blue the closer they got.

“Y’know, ghosts sure do know how to set the atmosphere.” he said as they stepped into the ballroom, one filled with blue-flamed, black candles floating in the air, with some of the candles being in candelabras made of black metal, surrounded by tables with black tablecloths and rotten food on them. 

“I think the blue flames are quite relaxing. They help ward off the Glibbering Humpinkers.”

“I have no clue what that last sentence means, but the flames are rather relaxing. I imagine they might be able to be used to maintain specific light levels for certain plants.”

“Nev, mate, I love ya and all, but you’re kind of a nerd. Now, Lunaloo,  wanna help me track down Helena?”

As it turned out, Helena was still reasonably adept at avoiding him at the Deathday Party, but not good enough. With Luna’s help (acting as bait) he managed to trap her in a conversation.

“Ah, hello there Luna, how are-” Helena began before Harry introduced himself.

“Hi, Helena. You are quite talented when it comes to avoiding people. I have a… request I suppose? I find myself needing your help.”

“Mr Potter. If you find yourself requiring an artifact, I shall not help you. I made that mistake once before, I shall not make it again.”

“What? There’s… a lot to unpack there, but no, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with some experiments. I have weird… soul powers if our encounter last year was any indication, and Lue over here says there’s a weird soul thing attached to my forehead, so I was hoping you’d be amenable to helping me figure out how to feel a soul, and what they feel like.”

For the first time in living (and undead) memory The spirit of Helena Ravenclaw displayed an emotion other than melancholy. It was intrigue.

“Experiments you say? And relating to the substance of the soul? I find myself… partial to your request. Pneumaturgy was a field of great interest that I researched when alive. Miss Lovegood, Mr Potter, meet me at the entrance to the Room of the Lost at the first new moon after today.”

“Sure thing! Thanks, Helena.” Harry said before turning to Luna. “You wanna head to the kitchens now? We’ve definitely missed the feast by this point.”

“That sounds pleasant. We should fetch Neville first though.”

Apparently, Neville had gotten himself embroiled in an argument about proper repotting methods with an ancestor of his. After they finally managed to extricate him, they managed to inform him that they had succeeded and were heading to the kitchens. That plan was stopped when Harry and Luna suddenly stopped in the middle of the hall.

“Rip… Tear… Kill…”

“What was that voice?” Harry asked at the same time as Luna saying “Oooh, hissing. I wonder what snake species it is?”

Looking in confusion at his friends Neville asked “Guys, what are you talking about, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Nev, shush, I’m trying to listen.”

“Ssoo hungry… For ssoo long…”

“It’s headed up. Come on, we’re following it.”

Using Harry as some bizarre radio, and Luna as a compass, the group managed to follow it to the second-floor girl’s bathroom. On the wall was a message, and on the floor was Mrs. Norris, frozen solid as a statue.

“The Chamber of Secrets? If you find it you ought to take someone with you Harry.”

“Luna, that’s the least of our worries right now.” Harry said, just as the school flooded the corridor.

“I promise it’s not what it looks like?” Neville offered weakly with a shrug.

Chapter Text

Immediately after Neville’s proclamation, mutters and murmurs filled the hallway, with the crowd grinding to a halt. It was unsurprising then, that Argus Filch shoved his way forwards, to see if there was something under his purview when he saw Mrs. Norris.

“My cat! What’s happened to my cat!” he yelled, casting his glare around wildly, eventually landing on the trio in the middle of the corridor. “You! You murdered her! She’s dead and you killed her!”

It was at that timely moment that the professors, along with Headmaster Dumbledore, swept along through the students to see what was going on. Arriving at the center of the debacle, he swept past Harry and his friends, and detached Mrs. Norris from the wall.

“Come with me, Argus. It would be for the best if you accompanied as well, Mr. Potter, Miss Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom.”

Harry groaned as Lockhart stepped forward.

“I believe my office is the closest Headmaster, please feel free.”

“Thank you, Gilderoy.”

As the crowd dispersed Dumbledore, followed by Filch, Lockhart, McGonagall, Snape, and the trio of students, led the way to the aforementioned office. As they entered the darkened office, the residents of the portraits fled from sight, hair in curlers, as the real Lockhart went about lighting the scattered candles in the room. When there was an appropriate amount of light in the room Dumbledore set the cat on the desk and began examining it. In the back of the room were the faculty, Mcgonagall looking worried, Snape looking slightly constipated, though it was likely more of a suppressed smile.

As Harry was leaning against the wall, looking at the cat with some form of intrigue, Lockhart was rambling. “It was definitely some type of curse that killed her, maybe the Transmogrifian Torture Curse, or an alteration of the Weeping Stone charm-”

He was thankfully cut off by Dumbledore’s announcement. “She is not dead, Argus.”

“What do you mean not dead? If she isn’t dead why’s she stiff as a corpse?”

“That would be because she is petrified, though I am unable to discern how.”

“Ask him!” Filch all but yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry.

“Argus, it would take some incredibly powerful, malicious magic to do this. I am confident that no second year could have caused this.”

“He did it, I’m telling you! He was there when she was found, the writing is literally on the wall!”

It was then that Snape decided to interject himself into the discussion. “If I may, Headmaster. Whilst Mr. Potter and his friends may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, the circumstances are suspicious. Why were they on this floor, at this time? Why were they not accounted for at the feast?”

Finally deciding to speak up, Harry said “Well, both of those are easy to answer. Lue, Nev and I were at Sir Nicholas’ Deathday party, partially 'cus he’s a friend, and because I needed to ask Helena a question.”

“That answers one question and raises another. Who is this ‘Helena’ you speak of?”

“One, she’s the Grey Lady, did none of you ask her for her name? Two, Luna saw something that she thought could be a Glimmering Humpinker, and she followed it. What were we gonna do, not follow her?”

“I don’t care about Glimpering Humponkers, my cat has been Petrified ! I want to see someone punished!”

“It needn’t go that far, Argus. Pomona is cultivating Mandrakes as part of the second year’s curriculum. Once they are matured a Restorative Draught shall be brewed, and Mrs. Norris will be right as rain.”

Lockhart decided to butt his egomaniacal opinion in at that point. “I’ll do it. I must’ve made it hundreds of times, could do it in my sle-”

Harry couldn’t help himself then and laughed. When everyone looked at him, he got his laugh under control. “Professor Snape is the one with a potions mastery, not you Professor Lockhart. I might not like him, but leave the professionals to their job.”

After an awkward pause, and Neville staring at him in concern, Dumbledore dismissed them all. As soon as they had gotten a decent distance between themselves and the office, Harry immediately turned to the other two and said “Well, we need Book Worm and Morbid Man. Luna, fancy sneaking us into your common room?”

“Oh, it’s hardly sneaking in, you just have to answer a riddle. Follow me.”

It really was a pleasant coincidence that the Ravenclaw common room was on the way to the Gryffindor one, so no one really questioned Harry heading that way. If he was being honest, Harry preferred the entrance to their common room. It was a pine wood door, with a beautifully forged brass doorknocker in the shape of an eagle head. Stepping up to the door, Luna struck the door with the knocker’s handle twice, causing the knocker to announce:

“In shadows coiled, a serpent's might,

Its scales gleam with ancient light.

Guarding secrets, dark and deep,

In the realm of dreams, it does creep.

What am I?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Harry said “Python, Apollo’s mythical enemy, who occupied Delphi.”

“An unorthodox answer, but demonstrative of great knowledge. You may enter.”

With two of the students entering being non-Ravenclaw’s, you’d think that they would be told to get out, but most of the students were busy with homework or a research project, so it was pitifully easy to walk up to Hermione and Blaise.

“Harry, Neville, what are you doing, you aren’t supposed to be in another House’s common room!” Hermione hissed at them.

“Hermione, look around, no one cares. Whatever it is that they’re here for is clearly important enough that they couldn’t wait. So, spill.”

“Patience truly is not a virtue that you possess, is it, Blaise? Anyways, y’all know how we were at the Deathday Party right?”

“Yes, how was it by the way?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, it went swimmingly. Anyways, after we had gotten what we needed, we left, initially planning on stopping off at the kitchens, but then I heard a voice.” Harry continued, at the same time as Luna said “I heard an odd hissing in the walls.”

“Yeah, there’s also that. Anyways, Luna and I managed to navigate our little group up to the second-floor corridor, we got questioned by the professors, and apparently, Mrs. Norris was petrified.”

“Well, petrification isn’t exactly easy magic, it’s rather difficult in fact. I’d imagine it was via some kind of artifact or a magical creature of some sort. The question is how such a dangerous item or creature could get through the school's wards.”

“It was definitely a creature.” Blaise idly commented as he was buffing his nails. When he looked up and saw everyone looking at him, he elaborated. “What? Lovegood heard hissing and pookums over there heard a voice. There was probably a snake nearby.”

“Okay, so who’s up to researching magic snakes? Luna and I are gonna be too busy with some experiments with Helena.”

They eventually came to decide on a rotating schedule of research for the other three, starting with Hermione and ending with Blaise, where each member would research for a week, and then hand over their notes to the next in line at the end of the week. That settled, Harry snuck Neville down to the Hufflepuff common room and then snuck back up to his own, mind filled with thoughts about what Helena had planned for the new moon.

Chapter Text

Harry was in History when he was finally given a reason to stop lamenting his boredom, given the first experiments were set for the new moon. That reason was that Hermione, the ever-inquisitive nerd she was, decided to ask a question completely unconnected to the War for Roman Succession.

“Excuse me, Professor Astraea?”

“Yes Miss Granger?”

“Would you happen to know what the Chamber of Secrets is? It’s just that no one has been able to find any answers to the question.”

Sighing, she responded. “I had initially planned to cover how Grindlewald had expanded his reach into Germany, but you are only the latest person to ask that, so I might as well answer the question.”

Stepping in front of her desk, she began to explain. “Now, as you all likely know, Hogwarts castle was constructed  some decades prior to the Norman invasion of Britain. It was built by some of the greatest magi of the age, namely Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, though that is merely what we know them as today, seeing as names like Rowena weren’t in existence at the time. According to historical record, they worked harmoniously, seeking out young magicians and bringing them to the castle to educate and safeguard them.”

“However, according to legend, a rift began to grow between Salazar and his fellow founders, ultimately culminating in some form of duel between him and Godric. As the legend goes, Salazar wished to limit who they accepted into the school, believing that ‘firstbloods’ as first-born were called were less worthy of their knowledge. If we follow the legend, it states that, after his expulsion from the grounds, Salazar snuck back into the castle and constructed his Chamber of Secrets, sealing within it a beast that only his descendants would be able to access and control, with the aim of purging the first-born from the school.”

At that, everyone gasped in shock and horror. Waiting patiently, Professor Astrae continued once they had calmed down. “Now, majority of this tale has been discredited by recent historical artifact discoveries, as well as dissections of the tale with secondary sources about the Founders. The two parts that are verifiably true, however, are that Salazar did in fact disappear from the historical record between two and four years after the founding of the school, and that he constructed the Chamber, as there are accounts of all four of the Founders constructing chambers of some sort.”

Giving the class a sweeping gaze, she finished her lecture. “In short, whilst there is some form of truth to the legend, the existence of Salazar’s monster is highly unlikely to be fact.”

As everyone filed out of the class to do whatever it was they did when there was a break between classes, Harry decided to finally get caught up on the rumor mill. “Well Blaisey-poo, what’s the latest rumor and gossip? Got any news from your network ?”

“One, it’s not a network, two, some relationship drama but mainly people are talking about how you’re the Heir. It’s very obviously nonsense, the Potters are quite traceably the descendants of Ignotus Peverell, not Cadmus, which is the main theory for where Slytherin’s last traced descendant came from.”

Heading into the Ravenclaw common room, Harry commented “Really? People are fuckin’ idiots sometimes. Now, where’s y’alls private library?”

The next two weeks passed quite uneventfully for Harry and his entourage. They went to class, learned highly specific spells they would likely never use, got points deducted and had to deal with acerbic gits that should never have become have become a teacher. It was at the end of that two-week mark that Harry was rather excited, as he was finally going to be able to get started on his experiments with Helena and Luna.

“Mr. Potter, I do believe you have a lesson with Professor Lockhart at this moment, do you not?”

“Eh, I should, but I managed to get him to let me skip whenever. I didn’t even have to take a knife out to threaten him.”

It took about five more minutes for Luna to get to the seventh floor.

“I thought you had History right now?”

“I’m a Lovegood, people tend to not notice if I’m missing.”

“Fair enough. Now Helena, what are we gonna do?”

“Walk thrice in front of the wall whilst requesting my testing rooms, and I shall explain further.”

The rooms that were conjured up were an impressive, if slightly modest, set of granite rooms with reinforced lines of iron and silver. The first room had a set of bookshelves with various tomes on them, as well as a wall of drawers and nooks filled with various herbs, chalks, metals, minerals, and gemstones, whilst the second room was empty, with a level, smooth floor.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I take it that you have an understanding of ecclesiastical Latin and Nordic runes?”

“‘Course I do. Can’t really go into my… line of work without knowing at least the basics.”

“I take it that you understand the significance and correspondences of the number seven?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I ask, as there is a diagram on my old workbench. I shall require you to draw the ritual circle in the adjacent room. Once that is done, you shall stand in the center of the circle whilst Miss. Lovegood writes a specific string of Latin that I shall dictate. Then you shall chant that same Latin, and we shall observe the effects.”

It took quite a while to the circle, seeing as the base of it was a heptagram, as well as needing to be large enough to fit the Latin in the final circle. The most interesting part about the circle, at least in Harry’s opinion, was the symbol at the center. It was an ankh, which was naturally associated with the various facets of life as understood via the lens of the religion of Ancient Egypt, but the reason it was interesting was the presence of eihwaz in the runic section. When used for rituals, it usually constituted a banishing aspect, but could also be used to represent souls in general, but it brought up the question. Was it some form of soul parasite?

“Now, Luna dear, repeat after me as you draw the circle. Imploro opis de haec partes,”

“Praesentia de opertus lunae. Inclamare haec opis ad fectum animus corporeus,”

“Solidus quod intactilis, ad efficio quod spiritus hominum. Imploro haec opis ad”

“Efficio tactilis quod non possum sum tactus, ad efficias quod”

“Spiritus solidus, ad efficias expers corporis tactus.”

As Luna finished reciting the chant and drawing the words the circle began to give off a slight glow. It was when Harry called out the chant that the circle began to glow in earnest, with a bright purple light spreading its way through the chalk starting at the first Latin word, spiraling inwards towards the ankh which glowed an angry crimson.

“That is… unexpected. Luna, is there anything that you’ve noticed?”

“The other person is more… corporeal looking, but he’s flickering, as though he can’t get away from where he is.”

“Be a dear and note that down, please. Now, I shall be entering the ritual circle, and I would like you to attempt to interact with my essence Mr. Potter.”

With each glowing circle Helena floated over, she slowly took on a greater depth of corporealization, whilst still remaining enough of a spirit that she was able to interact with the ritual but not disrupt it.

“Now that the circle has been empowered, you should find that your… unique abilities have been amplified and that you shall be able to interact with those that belong on the other side of the Veil. I’ve never quite had this opportunity before, so I am uncertain how we might proceed.”

“I think I just need to…” Harry wondered as he reached his hand near where her heart would have been. As he breached through the solid, yet not, substance that Helena was currently made of, he immediately said one thing. “This is familiar. Why is this familiar?”

“What do you mean it is ‘familiar’?”

“I don’t know . It just… it feels like something I’ve felt before, but at the same time it doesn’t. Why is it familiar ?”

“In the interest of scholarly accuracy, you should describe how the soul feels.”

“It feels like a contradiction made manifest. It’s simultaneously heavy and feather-light, boiling hot, yet freezing cold. It feels… it feels like like it’s less than I am, actually.”

“Less than you are? What do you mean?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, it just feels like there’s a bit of… existence that’s just missing , and not like, the fleshy part.”

“Interesti-” Helena began before suddenly turning around, her head at an angle. “I’m afraid that we shall have to return to this at a later date. The wards have sent an alert. There has been another attack. It was a student this time.”

Chapter Text

“Oh crap, who got petrified this time?”

“I am uncertain, it was merely that there was an incident. I shall need to check, to see if it is a Ravenclaw. I do still have House duties to perform, after all. You’re welcome to follow along if you wish.”

To the rest of the student body, they must have seemed an odd trio, if that was what they had been focusing on, instead of looking at Harry in distrust. It took a while to get to the Hospital Wing but when they did they joined the rest of the House Ghosts, as well as Professors Sprout, Dumbledore, and McGonagall as well as Madam Pomfrey.

“Ah, thank you for joining us Helena. Might I ask why there are students accompanying you? This is a rather… sensitive topic.”

“Headmaster, you of people must know how quickly secrets are disseminated amongst the student body, and the news will eventually be announced. Given the pupil’s belief that Harry is somehow responsible, it seems prudent to inform them.”

“I suppose your logic is sound. There has been another petrification, a student this time, by the name of Susan Bones. House Ghosts, I would like for you to keep a closer eye on your House members.”

After Dumbledore’s announcement, Harry and Luna left the Hospital Wing to find the rest of the group, seeing as the rest of the day's classes had been canceled, to allow for the Professors to figure out what had gone wrong. Hermione was in an abandoned classroom, practicing her charms work, Neville was in the library, and Blaise was at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall gossiping with some girl named Elodie Ainsworth.

Once they had all been gathered in an abandoned classroom, Hermione was the first one to speak.

“Well, there’s probably a reason why you’ve gathered all of us together, and it’s probably the same reason classes were canceled, so out with it.”

“So, there’s kind of been an… incident , but first I wanted to check up on our group projects. Who’s the one with the notes on the snake?”

“That would be me pookie-bear. Long story short, we haven’t gotten much of anywhere. Most of the mentions on petrification in the library are myth’s, and they’re usually ones about deities, or monsters like Medusa, or a cockatrice. My mother’s library in Italy might have some better texts, so I’ll give it a look over the Christmas break, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Cool, anyone got any updates on the Dobby sitch?”

“I’ve checked the library sections on Warding and House Spirits, as well as getting a pass from Professor Lockhart to check the Ritual Magic section in the Restricted Section, and I think there are a few possible leads. I think it might be a combination of two different rituals. I’m still busy trying to figure out how they’d be combined arithmantically, so it’ll take a while, and I’ll need the notes on what Blaise suspects it might be, so it’ll only be until maybe January that I’ll be done.”

“Cool, now for my news. So, there has in fact been another petrification, and it is someone that we know.”

“Who was it?” Neville asked.

“Well, y’all remember Sue right?”

“I take it you mean Susan Bones?”

“Hole in one Blaisey-pie, yeah she’s been petrified, so I’ll have to hold off on anything that’s too illegal.”

“Oh that’s awful! What happened?”

“Don’t know ‘Mione, all I know is that she got petrified.”

The next few weeks were filled with a lot of the students deciding to huddle up together, in case they were targeted as the next victim of the Heir. The general feeling of palpable fear and suspicion was what led to the announcement of a Duelling Club being created, to train the students in how to defend themselves.

“Well, y’all tend to know more about the rumor mill than I do, on account of giving a fuck, so anyone know who’s hosting the club?”

“Well, according to Luke Arkwright, one of our prefects, most of the higher years think it might be Professor Flitwick, seeing as he used to be a professional duellist.”

“Well Hermione, that’s not what I’ve heard. According to Elodie, who heard from Cameron Boyle, who heard from Elena Ward, Lockhart is hosting the club, so I wouldn’t expect to learn all that much tonight.”

“God, I hope it’s not Lockhart, I don’t think that fraud can cast anything that doesn’t make him look prettier.”

“Harry you can’t just disparage a professor because you don’t like them.”

It was at that moment that Lockhart walked out onto the dueling platform that had been set up, not a single hair out of place.

“Gather round everyone, gather round! Now, given the current situation , Professor Dumbledore has given yours truly permission to start up a little dueling club, with the aim of training you up a bit, so that you are capable of defending yourselves.” He paused then, flashing a painfully bright grin at the assembled crowd, before continuing. “Now, let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape. He’s had some experience in dueling, and agreed to help me with a demonstration. Don’t worry, you’ll still have your Potions Professor when we’re done.”

“12 Galleons on Snape absolutely humiliating Lockhart.”

“That’s a fool's bet snookums, make it more interesting.”

“One, they’re busy setting up the duel, two 12 galleons that Snape overpowers the spell, and Lockhart fails to block it.”

“Now that’s a fun bet leafster. I’ll take it.”

Once they started paying attention to the actual goings-on of the club, they realized that Lockhart was planning on having Snape demonstrate some kind of defensive charm.

“Now, as you can see, Professor Snape and myself have assumed the proper form and, when ready, on the count of three, shall begin casting. Obviously neither of us will be casting to kill or injure.”

Both professors proceeded to step five paces away, bowed to each other, and, on the count of three began to cast. Well, one of them, seeing as Snape cast such an overpowered Expelliarmus that Lockhart was blasted into the back wall of the Great Hall. Blaise proceeded to hand 12 galleons to Neville.

“Ah quite ingenious! Showing them the Disarming Charm - thank you Miss Brown - quite an excellent choice, but it was, if I might say very obvious. It would have been quite easy to prevent it landing, but I thought it more instructive…” He trailed off, finally looking at Snape's face, who looked like he was considering slipping him an untraceable poison.

“Yes, well, I think we ought to pair the children off, for practice. Professor Snape, if you would help?”

Lockhart went to pair different students together, but Snape immediately zeroed in on Harry and his group.

“I believe it’s time to split up your band of… ruffians. Miss Granger, pair off with Miss Bulstrode, Longbottom with McEwin, Zabini to Matlock, Lovegood find MacDougal. Potter-” Snape paused, probably for dramatic effect, but it wasn’t particularly effective. “Mr. Malfoy, I think, will be a good pair.”

With all of the students paired off together, Lockhart went back to the platform.

“Face your partners and bow to each other. On the count of three, you will cast to disarm, and only to disarm, we wouldn’t want any accidents, now would we? One, two, three, begin!”

At the call to begin, Harry tightened his grip on his wand and waited for Malfoy to do something, confident he’d be able he’d be able to dodge it. He didn’t have to wait particularly long to dodge, seeing as Draco had started casting on two instead of three.

Wand high, Draco called out “Everte Statum!” with Harry dodging to the left and casting the Slowing Charm, Arresto Momentum, followed by the Disarming Charm. Really, it seemed rather easy, but considering Lockhart was shouting about “-disarm only!” shortly followed by Snape casting a Counter Spell, apparently most people hadn’t focused on efficiency.

Neville was on one knee, with McEwin on his back, both were panting. Blaise was inspecting his nails, two wands held in his hand. Hermione was in the midst of breaking out of a headlock Bulstrode had got her into, whilst MacDougal was looking for Luna, who had somehow snuck up behind her.

“Oh dear, this has been quite disastrous. Perhaps we ought to teach how to block a spell first. We’ll need a volunteer pair of course, perhaps Longbottom and McEwin?”

Naturally, Snape intimated that that was somehow a bad idea, and Harry and Malfoy were a better idea. Harry seriously wanted to know what Snape’s deal was. Snape was coaching Draco, whilst Lockhart was trying to do the same for him. Trying being the imperative here.

Once both professors had finished their little pep talks, they both stepped back, and Lockhart started the countdown.

“Three, two, one, begin!”

Malfoy raised his wand and called out “Serpensortia!”

With Malfoy’s spell cast, a black cottonmouth snake emerged from his wand and promptly readied itself to attack. Before anyone could react, Harry calmly sat down and started talking.

~Hey there, unless you wanna die, I’d calm down~

~A speaker? What am I doing here? It’s cold, and there’s no water~

~Well, you see the short idiot over there?~ Harry said pointing at Draco ~He… it’s hard to translate, but you’re kinda his hatchling, I guess? Anyways come over here, and I’ll get the tall greasy dude to send you to a forested river~

As Harry finished up with his little negotiation session with a snake, he realized everyone was looking at him, and MacMillan (he was pretty sure that was what his name was) was shouting something about egging the snake on. He just ignored him.

“‘Scuse me, Professor Snape, if you send her to an isolated forest with a river that would be great, seeing as you taught Malfoy that spell, so you’re kinda her dad.”

Sneering at him, Snape twitched his wand and the snake disappeared, and Harry hopped off the stage and left the hall, followed by his friends.

Chapter Text

“Harry, you realize that everyone is going to believe you’re the Heir of Slytherin even more than before now, right?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t particularly care , I’ve killed a troll and a professor being possessed by Voldemort, there’s not much that some students could do that would bother me.”

“You really should take things more seriously sometimes Harry.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will, cus that sounds boring. Now, are you gonna admit that Lockhart’s a fraud, seeing as he couldn’t even cast a shield charm?”

“I’m willing to admit that he, perhaps, isn’t as talented as he claims, but there simply isn’t enough evidence yet.”

“Fine, I’m heading to bed now, so see ya’ll in class tomorrow.”

Harry had been looking forward to having Herbology the next day, seeing as he’d be able to check out some of the more interesting plants that wizards grew but, unfortunately for him, it was not to be. There had already been light bouts of snow, seeing as it was winter in the Scottish Highlands, but that Monday was when the weather had decided to come in full force. There had been a major snowstorm that night so Professor Sprout had canceled her classes that day to put little sweaters and socks on the Mandrakes, which was apparently difficult enough that she didn’t trust anyone else to not injure themselves or the mandrakes.

With the unexpected free time he now had, Harry decided it would probably be a good idea to check out how the usage of runic systems for the purpose of magic differed between his world and the magical world, so naturally, he was headed to the library. He didn’t find what he was looking for, but the various wizarding “runic” systems were quite interesting and potentially useful, if not actually runic in nature.

It was while he was browsing some runic syllabaries that he heard his name coming from a group in the corner and decided to eavesdrop.

“-if Potter’s marked him as his next victim, it’s best to lay low for a while.” An unassuming-looking blond boy said, surrounded by a timid-looking brown-haired boy, and a girl with twin plaits in her hair.

“Wayne, are you sure it’s Harry?” The timid boy asked.

“Justin, he’s a Parselmouth, everyone knows that’s a sign of a Dark Wizard, and the only student to be petrified so far was Susan, and he was distantly close with her.”

“I don’t know, he’s always seemed sort of nice, in a detached way. He did stop You-Know-Who, and that troll in first year.” Plaits commented.

“Hannah, that’s just more proof that he’s secretly evil. We still don’t know how he beat You-Know-Who, and it’s not normal that he managed to kill a troll. He was 13 , Hannah. Everyone knows only a really powerful Dark Wizard could have survived the Killing Curse. That’s probably why You-Know-Who went after him, getting any competition out of the way before it became a problem.”

Stepping out of the shelves where he was, Harry leaned against the shelves and took a few seconds to enjoy the shocked looks from the Hufflepuffs.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk about people behind their backs?”

“Wh- what do you want?” Wayne asked.

“Oh, nothing, I was mostly here for the books, it being a library and all. Though getting to embarrass you lot was a good bit of fun.” Walking out the library, he threw over his shoulder “Next time you’re gossiping try to be quieter.”

As he was walking back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry considered asking Helena when the next set of tests would be, but figured she was probably busy interpreting the results of the first set, and instead decided he’d continue figuring out how his foe glass worked. As best as he could tell, it seemed like the metal rim was what caused the unique effects, seeing as there were some small grooves in the rim. His train of thought was interrupted by the fact that he tripped over a body.

The petrified body of Earnest MacMillan, with the ghost of Sir Nicholas floating just in front of him. Deciding to investigate the scene a bit, to try and get any idea about what could be causing the petrifications. There weren’t any entrances besides the windows and classroom doors. No feathers or scales. No slime. It was when he was looking at MacMillan that Peeves came into the corridor.

“Oo, hello wee little exorcist, what's got wee little Potter lurking?”

Peeves caught sight of the body but didn’t get the chance to say anything before Harry threatened him.

“Peeves, you dare say anything and I swear to God I will hunt down your body and exorcise you.”

It didn’t help avoid much though, seeing as class ended just then, and everyone filed out of class and saw Harry standing in front of the body.

“HA! Caught in the act!” that Wayne kid yelled out.

It was at that point that Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Vector came out into the corridor, with Vector and Flitwick taking MacMillan to the Hospital Wing. Not knowing exactly how to move a ghost, McGonagall conjured a fan and told Wayne to waft Sir Nicholas to the Hospital Wing as well. In the end, it left Harry and her alone in the corridor.

“Follow me, Mr. Potter.”

Harry just sighed and followed. As he was following her, he noticed that she was leading him up to the seventh floor, which didn’t particularly make sense, seeing as the only semi-important thing he knew of on that floor was the Gryffindor common room and dorms, but it didn’t make much sense for her to be leading him there. That was until he saw a gargoyle in the shape of a griffin. It was mostly a feeling, but he had the sensation he would be seeing the Headmaster.

Harry had been in a lot of different rooms in Hogwarts, but the Headmaster’s office was quite a unique office. The wall behind the desk was covered in portraits of what he assumed were Headmasters of the past, all of whom were currently asleep. On the shelves were a myriad collection of odd silver instruments, twirling, whistling and puffing colored smoke in the air. The most interesting part was the phoenix on a golden perch, which looked haggard, and as if it were on death's doorstep.

A more accurate phrase than he would have thought, seeing as it immediately self-combusted, with a small chick poking its head out of the ash. Deciding it might be fun to experiment with the properties of phoenix ash, Harry scooped some of it into one of the many empty vials in his satchel.

As he assumed a more casual stance, the door at the small little landing above the desk, with Dumbledore exiting through the door.

“Hello, sir. Your phoenix self-immolated.”

“Ah, yes I suppose Fawkes has. It’s about time, he’s been looking dreadful for days. It is a shame that you had to see him on a Burning Day, he has the most beautiful plumage. Such interesting creatures, phoenixes. Restorative tears, incredible strength and undying loyalty for those they choose. Now, you must be-”

Dumbledore was cut off then, by Hagrid bursting in, holding a dead rooster of all things. He was babbling something about all of his roosters being dead, looking like they’d been killed, but he was cut off by Dumbledore.

“Hagrid, I will be available to discuss this in a short while, but I must ask you to please wait just out of my office for now.” With that said, Hagrid, looking a tad embarrassed left the office.

“Now, Mr. Potter, you must be wondering why I have had you brought to my office.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with the petrifications?”

“Yes, though I feel I must preface that I do not believe that you are responsible for them. Considering last year’s… events, I find it makes sense that you might wind up being at the center of this year’s events. If you know anything, anything at all, that might be helpful, I ask you to let myself or a Professor know.”

Knowing that bureaucracy rarely achieved much, and that meant the professors would likely be rather useless, Harry merely said “Sorry sir, I know as much as the rest of the students. So nothing, really.”

Chapter Text

The moment Harry got out of Dumbledore's office, he once again gathered his friends together, to update them on what happened, in the hopes that the new turn would help them narrow down what it was that was doing the petrifications.

“Okay, deja vu time. I swear something similar happened not long ago?”

“That would be because you’re correct Blaise. Two main things. First, Hermione, this was meant to be a Christmas present, but it’s probably important that at least two of us are more or less able to communicate instantly within the castle.” Harry said as he handed over the second computer that Frank’s friend had modified for him.

“Harry, that’s rather sweet of you, but technology doesn’t work in areas with high ambient magic like Hogwarts.”

“Normal tech, yeah, but  Frank’s one Australian friend, Marc I think, makes a business of enchanting tech to work in places like Hogwarts. He even runs a Wi-Fi network that all his products use by default, so now you can research with the internet as well as books. You’ll probably find something, ‘cus I‘ve not found anything on the net for petrifications beyond myths.”

“On the topic of petrification, Hare-bear?”

“Oh yeah! So, there’s kinda been another set of attacks. This time it was that MacMillan kid, and Sir Nicholas, which is annoying . Also, Hagrid’s roosters keep being killed, so there’s also that.”

“A snake and roosters? That sounds… familiar, but I can’t remember why. I’ll check the family library over Christmas break. Although Gran might know something, she knows weird stuff like that.”

“Thanks, Nev. On that topic, who all is staying over the break?”

As it turned out, of his little group, only he, Hermione, and Luna were staying. Neville apparently had a family thing he did during Christmas, and Blaise’s mom had managed to ensnare a new husband, so he had to go to the wedding. Luna was staying in case Helena came to them with the next set of experiments. Hermione was planning on staying to try and figure out who was controlling the Monster and had apparently been taking notes on all of their yearmates, as well as some of those in the upper years.

Harry was staying to explore the Forbidden Forest some more, to try and figure out the actual reason it was deemed too dangerous to enter. It was Christmas day, and as with the previous year, Harry first opened the various presents that he had gotten. Frank had sent him some new amulets to ward off various supernatural beasties, as well as the recipes for some particularly handy hex bags. In return, Harry had gotten Frank some rare herb cuttings, as well as dried versions, for his personal garden. Blaise had sent him a book on rare poisons and how to make them, and Harry got him a book on antidotes. From Neville, he had received a book on the medicinal uses for common plants, and Harry had sent him a small, portable greenhouse that could hold 5 plants.

When he went down to the Great Hall to grab some sandwiches for his voyage, he gave Luna the carved wooden figure he had found in the Room of the Lost, which looked like how she described a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, in return she gave him a set of silver earrings with some runes engraved on them, which he changed out his old steel ones for. As he was leaving, Hermione came down the stairs and gave him a rare copy of the Corpus Hermeticum that she had found in Greece during the summer break.

Food acquired and gifts gifted, he headed out of the castle proper before the professors could get there and make him stay for the feast. Harry rather liked the Forest, what with its general lack of people to bother him, as well as the strangely comforting aura that different parts of it had. He had been exploring for about an hour when he found an old graveyard, from which he scooped up some dirt. He had found quite a decent collection of rare herbs he took some cuttings of, as well as collecting some to dry up.

About twenty minutes after the graveyard, he noticed something odd about the area he was in. There were cobwebs everywhere.

“Huh, I don’t think those were there beforehand. What the fuck could have made those? Welp, on we go.”

Fifteen minutes later Harry was thinking to himself that maybe, just maybe, it should’ve been ‘welp, let’s leave’. He wasn’t able to think of much else, seeing as he was now running from massive man-eating spiders.

“Fuck, fuck fuck! Why the fuck are there massive spiders? Shit!” Harry thought whilst running. Turning his head slightly, wand pointed over his back, he started casting.

“Diffindo! Flipendo! Wait! Fumo!”

With the last spell, a widespread, dense fog spread out from around Harry, confusing the spiders. Taking the chance to get away, Harry covered himself in dirt to mask his scent, pulled on his invisibility cloak, and started moving in the direction of the castle, not daring to make a single noise. He really was lucky that there was enough snow to muffle his steps, but not enough that he couldn’t cover his tracks.

He managed to get back to the castle in time for dinner, thankfully having missed the lunchtime feast. As he sat next to Hermione and Luna, looking incredibly haggard, with his cuts and scrapes, and generally looking disheveled he groaned.

“Harry, what on earth happened to you? Where even were you, you weren’t at the feast.”

“One, not mandatory, two spiders. Massive. Fucking. Spiders. They kept saying they would eat me.”

“Were you in the Forest? The one that’s Forbidden? You should have known there would be a reason for that.”

“Why would I think there are giant fucking spiders in there? That can talk no less?” Harry exclaimed.

After his griping, Harry finally settled down and wondered why they were so close to a school. Well, at least he could go to bed instead of being digested by a spider.

Chapter Text

Turned out Neville was right about his Gran knowing a weird amount about magical creatures. Something about his Dad. When he asked, she told him there was only thing she could think of was a snake that had some form of link to roosters.

“A basilisk.”

“Yeah, apparently a rooster’s crow is fatal to basilisks, and apparently the basilisk is the only snake that she could think of that’s linked with roosters in any manner.”

“Well, we’ll obviously need to double-check that to make sure, as well as try to figure out how it’s getting around the castle, seeing as no one’s seen any snakes.”

“Harry, tesoro, you enjoy complicating things, don’t you?”

“Okay mon chéri, let’s give you the floor. How do you think an evil, magic snake is getting around unseen?”

“The plumbing? A snake that is possibly massive, unlikely to be invisible, and not seen by anyone near the crime scenes? If I were an evil wizard commanding a deadly snake I would tell it to travel through the plumbing, thus we need to check where the plumbing connects to find where it’s nesting. Now, Hermione, any leads on who it is that is controlling the snake?”

“Unfortunately not. Harry even lent me his cloak, so I could sneak into the other House’s common rooms and eavesdrop on the conversations being had, and none of them knew a single thing.”

After they all did a bit of digging, the quintet could only conclude that Neville’s grandmother was, unfortunately, correct. They were facing off against a basilisk. Unfortunate. Especially seeing as there weren’t any documented weaknesses that they could exploit.

It was a weekend when Harry grabbed Blaise and decided to go check out the original crime scene. Well, he also got Luna to check where Susan had been petrified, with Neville and Hermione taking the site of Nicholas and MacMillan’s petrification. It was when he and Blaise got closer to the first site that they both heard a loud wail. When they got to the entrance to the restroom, Harry noticed that the floor in front of the door was absolutely covered with water.

“Well, meraviglia, do you think something's changed?” Blaise asked, eyebrow quirked with humor.

“Well, ma moitié, I do believe that something has indeed. Once more unto the breach?” Harry asked before he walked into the bathroom, to discover what the wailing was. As it turned out, it was a ghost that was making such a raucous cacophony.

“Hello? What’s wrong?” Harry asked as he entered the restroom.

“Oh, have you come to throw a book at poor, moping, moaning Myrtle as well?” Myrtle asked.

“Oh, hi Myrtle. Uh, no, that’s like a major dick move. I’m a hunter, not evil.” Harry replied. “Uh, who threw a book at you?”

“I don’t know, I was just sitting in the U-Bend thinking about dying, when suddenly a book hits my head. It’s over there, it washed up when I flooded the toilets.”

It was a quaint little book when he took a look at it. Black, two gold corner adornations, and a name written on the cover. Apparently, the owner of the book was one T.M. Riddle. Figuring that it couldn’t hurt to try and figure out why someone had been so desperate to get rid of what looked like a simple diary, Harry bent down to pick it up but nearly dropped it as he picked it up. There was an odd… resonance, that he felt in the diary. Almost like it was trying to click into place, but there wasn’t enough space for it.

“Caro mio? You good?” Blaise asked, noticing the sudden tenseness in Harry’s frame.

“Yeah, just… we need to find Helena. This book is super weird.” Harry said as he slid the book into his satchel.

As they left the restroom to hunt down Helena, Blaise asked a question. “What kind of weird, bellissimo? Wizard, demon, a secret third thing?”

Rounding the corner to the stairs, Harry replied “I think it’d be a secret third thing. It doesn’t feel natural , I mean natural things don’t try and slot into your soul. Wait.” Turning around, he looked Blaise dead in the eyes. “Soul! It was a secret third thing! It’s soul magic! This thing is only leaving my bag when I’m with Helena. Speaking of, you know how to cast a notice-me-not, right?”

“Of course you birdbrain. Obfusco aspectus .”

“Thanks, beau. Time to do a spirit summoning. Let’s hope it works.”

Pulling out his silver athame, some red, mugwort-infused chalk, five black candles, and his wooden offering bowl, he set about performing the ritual, drawing a pentacle, lighting the candles, and then cutting his palm filling the bowl up before putting the bowl in the center of the circle.

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere , apud nos circita!”

“Mr. Potter, summoning me with a ritual is rather dramatic, is it not? Regardless, this is quite fortuitous, as I have finished interpreting the results of our experiment, and we can proceed to the next step.”

“What a coincidence. I found a book that tried to connect to my soul.”

“Excuse me? You found what?”

“Blaise, I need to borrow your silk handkerchief.” Wordlessly, Blaise handed it over, and Harry took the book out of his satchel using it. “Yeah, Blaise and I found this here diary which tried to like… slot into my soul, I guess.”

It was at that moment that Harry noticed the look of pure, unadulterated loathing on Helena’s face. “Uh, Helena, you good?”

“Follow me.” Was all she said, before swiftly turning and gliding away at speed. Deciding that it would be better to not question her with how she was right now. As it turned out she was taking them to collect the rest of the retinue. How she knew where they were was beyond him, but what was interesting was that she was leading them to where her testing rooms were.

“Is anyone gonna explain what’s going on?”

“It should become readily apparent, Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Potter the diary on the desk, if you would.”

Putting the diary onto the desk in the first room Harry turned to Helena.

“Okay, who exactly is T.M. Riddle? You reacted really weirdly.”

“There is precisely one student in the history of this school that it could be, though it is my hope that I am incorrect. Based on your description I have reason to believe that it shall respond to you if you write in it. Proceed.”

Hello there. Harry wrote in the book, seeing the words sink into the page as soon as he lifted the fountain pen.

Hello to you as well. Who are you?

I’m James Evans, who are you?

Tom Riddle. How did you come by this diary?

“Wait, Tom Riddle? Is that Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

“Why yes, Mr. Longbottom. Where did you hear that name?”

“I helped Hermione map the castle sometime last year, and saw the name on an award for… I think Special Services to the School. The middle name was really weird so it kinda stuck. It was really old as well. I think it was-”

“Fifty years ago.” Helena finished.

Chapter Text

“Fifty years ago? You mean the exact same length of time it’s been since the Chamber was opened last?” Blaise asked. Seeing that he was being given a weird look by everyone he continued. “What, I know things. It’s part of my mystique and charm.”

“Regardless of how Mr. Zabini learned of it, he is correct. Fifty years prior, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and students were petrified, much like the events this year. There was a crucial difference the first time, however. Two students were no longer members of this institute’s peer body. One dead, the other expelled. Myrtle Mallone and Rubeus Hagrid.”

“How did it stop the first time?”

“Tom Riddle claimed to have found and banished Salazar’s Monster, supposedly an acromantula. Crucially there are holes and knots in this literary tapestry woven by Mr. Riddle.”

“Acromantulas can’t petrify people for one. Was this Mallone person’s body examined post-mortem?”

“Quite precisely Mr. Potter, and yes, it was. Crucially, they could identify no cause of death.”

“Acromantula use a venom to kill though. Excuse me Helena, but you said Myrtle Mallone correct?”

“Indeed I did Miss Lovegood.”

“Would that be the same Myrtle as the ghost in the second-floor girl's toilets?”

“Yes, it would, Miss Lovegood.”

“Great catch Lue! Now, who wants to help interrogate a ghost, hunt a basilisk, and probably break the law?” Harry asked far too cheerfully for anyone else's liking. 

“Wait, we still need to know how to get the basilisk out of its hiding place.”

“Oh yeah.” Harry said. After he wrote into it and it responded, he continued. “Get this, it’s in a massive statue of what Salazar is meant to have looked like, and the phrase is ‘ Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four’ . Oh also, it was the girl Weasley apparently. Probably possessed.”

Information gathered, they all eventually agreed to help him. Well, except Neville, he was planning on playing diversion in case any teachers went looking for them. On Helena’s advice, they left the diary in her labs, seeing as they were quite secure on account of only three people knowing what to think to access them.

“Hey Myrtle!”

“Oh, it’s you again. What are you here for now?”

“Well, oddly enough it’s to ask about how you died. The more specifics the better.”

“Oh, no one’s ever asked me that!” She all but squealed “It happened in this very bathroom. This exact stall actually. Olive Hornby was bullying me yet again , she was making fun of my glasses, so I decided to lock myself in this stall to hide from her. I was crying when I heard the door open. I thought it was Olive coming to make fun of me again, but I heard an odd hissing , almost like someone was trying to talk without talking.”

“The voice sounded like one of the male prefects, so I unlocked the door to let him know he was in one of the girl's toilets, but I didn’t get a chance to. The moment I opened the door I felt like I was floating away. I came back though. I couldn’t let go of the chance to haunt Olive Hornby. She regretted ever making fun of my glasses.”

“Excuse me Myrtle, but would you be able to describe exactly what you saw just before you died?” Hermione asked.

“Oh of course! When I opened the stall door I looked up ever so slightly and saw two rather large eyes. They were a rather pretty yellow with slight flecks of orange and red. They were quite close to the sinks.”

“Thank you, Myrtle. Hermione, do you know any spells to turn things into highly reflective mirrors?” Harry asked, as he moved to sinks and started inspecting them.

“I made a spell that enhances the reflectivity of a mirror, but I don’t know any to transfigure one.”

“Good thing I have a hand mirror with me. Here you go.”

“Ugh, Hunters. Repercutio quod fracti speciem. Why exactly do you need as reflective a material as possible?” Hermione asked as she handed the mirror over to Harry.

From his position of inspecting everything about the sinks, he replied. “Well, basilisks are able to be killed by a reflection of their gaze, at least that’s what the lore suggests. Even if it doesn’t, at least it or I will only be petrified. Shit, could you duplicate them?” As she was doing so, Harry continued “That way, y’all might be petrified as well, instead of dead.”

“Harry, amore mio, how have you come to the conclusion that we wouldn’t die?”

“It really is rather obvious Blaise. Mrs. Norris was in front of the water, Susan was in front of a window, and Earnest was behind Sir Nicholas.”

“I don’t get it, Luna. Perhaps an actual explanation.”

“None of them made direct eye contact.” She answered at the same time as Harry yelled “Aha! Found it!”

“Found what?” Hermione asked as they all gathered around the sink.

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. See the tiny snake carving there? It’s the only one on any of the taps. Blaise, hermoso, could you get me a sword from one of the suits of armor?” Harry said, putting his satchel on the ground before he spoke.

~Open~

“Hey, first try! Oh Blaise, thank you. Purgo robigo, Acuo ui utum.” After he had cleaned and sharpened the blade, he took a look at where the sink had been. “Huh, deep drop. Good thing I have rope in my bag.”

Making sure that the rope was tied around sink pipes took a bit of time, and liberal application of Sticking Charms, but after putting his satchel back on, and the sword in it in case it was needed, they were ready to rappel down into the Chamber.

First impressions, incredibly filthy tunnel, and antechamber. Second impression, lots of bones.

"Should we, perhaps, be concerned by the mass grave we seem to be standing on?"

"Don't worry about it 'Mione. Now, who's gonna go ahead with me?"

"Well I'm obviously going, mio angelo. It’s not a guarantee that the mirrors will work, and you know how I am with poisons.”

“I know the most wand-based magic out of the four of us, so it makes sense for me to go.”

“What about you Lue?”

“I rather think my inexperience would make me a liability, and someone needs to be here in case a teacher finds us.”

“Welp, on we go!”

It really was quite the dank tunnel they walked through. Very cave-like, and it led them to another antechamber, this one having what looked to be a fifty-foot-long shed skin in it, as well as a ladder that led to yet another tunnel, which finally ended with a stone wall, which had a set of snake’s carved into the wall which, at a word, started slithering back until the section of wall opened up, revealing the last room.

“Well, here we are. The Chamber of Secrets.”

Chapter Text

“It’s actually real…”

“Yes, Hermione, it is, now can we keep the scholarly urges in their case? Harry, mio amato, we have a job to do.”

“Right you are mon cœur, right you are. Now, mirrors at the ready.”

As they made their way to the statue, the carved braziers on the sides lit up, one by one, once again reinforcing the idea that wizards loved to be dramatic. Checking to make sure his friends were ready, with their mirrors pointed at where the basilisk would slide out of, Harry turned back, readied his own mirror, and spoke.

~Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four~

As soon as he spoke, the mouth of the statue ground open, eventually coming to a stop. As the grinding of stone on stone was no longer audible another noise came to be heard. The slithering of skin on stone.

The Basilisk had arrived.

It wasn’t able to do much, however. As soon as its head was on the ground and it had opened its eyes, the entire length of it went slack. The reflected gaze had, in fact, killed it.

“Well. That was anticlimactic.”

“Mon trésor, would have rathered we fight for our lives?” Harry asked as he walked over to the basilisk. “Anyways, this is gonna take a while, so y’all can take a look around the chamber. I’ll signal when I’m done.”

Harry then proceeded to set his bag down, get on his knees, and take a box out of his bag, which he then spent about an hour, casting spells on and carving runes into. Once that was done, he proceeded to break off as many basilisk fangs as he could fit in his new lockbox. Just to be extra safe he also took some of the scales off of the dead body and the feathers that comprised its coronet. After he signaled that he was done and the trio started heading back the way they came, he made sure to grab some of the shed skin as well. Never know when it might be useful.

“I take it you were successful?”

“That we were Lue, that we were. Managed to get some components from it as well. Let’s go collect Neville and head back to Helena.”

It took a surprising amount of time to try and find where Neville had gotten to. Somehow, in an effort to make sure that the maximum amount of professors were occupied, he had somehow gotten them all looped into practical demonstrations of how their skills and fields could be used in day-to-day life. Well, besides Snape. They eventually managed to extricate him from where he was helping Professor Sprout set up something complicated looking to do with Herbology.

“Hey Helena, we’re back! Basilisk is dead, and ingredients harvested.”

“You have returned at quite a convenient time, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately given your latest… discovery , the next experiment that I had devised based off of our previous experiment was made null and void. One could not simply give up the chance to experiment on what seems to be a phylactery. In retrospect, it was quite simple to adapt the arithmancy. Merely dividing half of the variables by a factor of four and multiplying half of the remaining variables by the ninth sequential exponent of twelve, with the last half being divided by the lowest variable of a sine wave with the average hertz being 247.”

“Helena, you can explain the arithmancy to Hermione later, for now just tell me what I need to do.”

“Well then, let us proceed to the next room. Oh, do be a dear Miss Granger, and grab the… blood red, and the olive green chalks for me. Mr. Zabini, the diary, if you would. Oh, and remember to carry it with the silk.”

The ritual that Helena had devised was similar to the first round of tests in so far as it was soul magic. Beyond that, it was completely different. For one, the first ritual used a singular circle, whereas this second one used two bisecting circles that centered on the fehu that was present in the outer rings. It also took about twice as long as the initial circle to fully set up, given that there were two different rings, with the central geometry being octagonal and heptagonal in nature. The other interesting part of the circles was that each had, at its center, three hieroglyphs. The ankh, was , and the djed . Life and death, dominion, and stability. Three symbols usually layered over each other, now separated into fragments.

“Messrs. Zabini and Potter, if you could set the foci into their locations? Miss Lovegood, Miss Granger, if you could write the chant and recite it? Now, it begins thus. Licet duo vinculum sum-”

“-biformis inter concors fragmen. Atque similis advoco atque,-”

“-ita etiam discordia advoco ad rudis. Fractus animus, animus pluris-”

“-quam totus, depravatio de naturalis ordo, perturbatio formatae apud-”

“-sibi-idem dexterae. Connecto quod fractura, et praebeo is in intere agere tamquam totus.”

With the last word spoken and inscribed, the circle that Harry was in started glowing a deep lilac at the edges, with the interior geometry glowing a forest green, until the central circle with the hieroglyphs started glowing. It was less of a glow, and more of a void, an absence of light to the point of being an aberration. In contrast to the aurora-like glow of the circles surrounding Harry, the circles surrounding the diary were glowing as though they were volcanic vents, sunken into the earth.

“A most intriguing outcome. Now, once I give the signal, Mr. Potter shall begin to recite the chant, however a secondary vocal element shall be required. Mr. Longbottom, if you would?”

“Wait, why me?”

“Ideally the second form would be an exact copy of Mr. Potter, but that is one of the myriad things that magic cannot accomplish. However, a child that falls within the bounds of the same false prophecy, born a day apart? Yes, I do believe that you are sympathetically similar enough to Mr Potter that your participation would lead to a successful ritual.”

It was after the chanting was down that the next interesting thing happened. Well, two interesting things. The first was that when the chanting ended, Harry fell to his knees, back arched. The second was Luna’s comment.

“Oh, that’s interesting. There’s a… tether, between the book and Harry’s scar.”

Shortly after Luna’s observation, Harry collapsed to the floor.

Chapter Text

“Is he ok? Should someone go and help him?” Hermione asked, carding her fingers through her hair at pace.

“That would be ill-advised, Miss Granger. To introduce another element to the ritual could have untold consequences. We must merely observe.”

They waited like that for about half an hour, Blaise twisting the ring on his middle finger, Hermione carding her fingers through her hair, Luna and Helena simply standing and watching and Neville twisting different spots in his sweater. After about forty-five minutes had passed, Harry finally stood back up

“Cuore mio, are you ok?”

“Mi amor, it almost warms the heart that you care. But yeah, I’m mostly okay. My neck and lower back are fucken’ sore though.” Turning to look at Helena, Harry continued “I take it that that wasn’t exactly meant to happen?”

“No, that was not intended…” Helena trailed off, head tilted at Harry’s expression.

“Does anyone else see that rope?”

“I can see it. Though I don’t think the other humans can. They aren’t spirit-touched like you and I are.”

“O-okay then. I take it the connection was intended?” Seeing Helena nod he continued. “Well, let’s see what it’s done.” Taking a step from the center of his circle, the lights dimmed ever so slightly. When he stepped over the lines into the opposing circle, his circle’s lights dimmed to a mild glow, barely visible to the untrained eye. In contrast, the diary’s circle’s lights flared, gaining the auroral glow, whilst maintaining the vent-like depth.

“Well, the rope is… brighter.” Harry said, with Luna adding the detail that it looked to be thicker as well.

As he picked up the book, Harry noticed something. The book wasn’t trying to click into place, but it instead felt… slimy. Almost ectoplasmic, if ectoplasm was something you could feel. Much like with his interaction with Helena, Harry sort of just… knew what he needed to do. As though it was instinct, he held the hand not holding the book in front of the diary and reached into the diary itself.

“I don’t think that should be possible.” Hermione said, a tinge of disbelief in her voice.

“There are a great many things that should not be possible, and yet are, Miss Granger. Now, Mr. Potter, if you could describe what you are feeling in the diary?”

“It’s… shattered, sharded…” Harry replied, in an almost trance-like state. “It… it knows me… but it doesn’t know me . I… it feels… familiar, like an old family friend… one I barely remember.”

“If you could untangle your essences, and open the book, Mr. Potter.”

At a painstakingly slow pace, Harry slowly pulled his hand out and set it down, with the pages open.

“I am never doing that again. It felt like it wanted to eat me. Huh. There’re symbols on the pages now. Um… some runes, a scattering of ogham and a crap ton of hieroglyphs.”

“If you could, what does it seem they are doing?”

“Uh, there’re symbols for binding, renewal, rebirth and death, stability and strength. Huh, that one kinda looks like the sigil for… argh whats-is-name. Crowley! That’s it. Wonder why there’s what looks like a crossroads sigil in here.”

“Ahh. I do believe that I have acquired the final pieces of information that I required. Miss Lovegood, if you could acquire a basilisk fang from Mr. Potter’s messenger bag, and throw it into the circle, I believe we can destroy the phylactery now.”

As soon as Harry had stabbed the diary, and it had finished bleeding an odd ink, Helena floated towards Harry. 

“Mr. Potter, if you would follow me, there are… particularities about the results of both rituals that I believe would be best to hear by yourself.”

When the two of them were by themselves in a different room, Helena continued.

“I believe this latest dataset, in combination with the previous set, can help to provide some answers as to why Miss Lovegood can see a spectral being attached to your scar. When I was collating and analyzing the data from the ritual that amplified your latent talent with pneumaturgy, I noticed an… aberration. Now, each soul has its own harmonic resonance, its own frequency that it plays at. It was in the dataset from the first ritual that I noticed there were three harmonic frequencies. One was your own, one was mine, and the other an unknown variable.”

“It was when the ritual circle for this one just gone past activated that I realized something. Now, as a spirit, I am more attuned to the frequencies of the soul, and the phylactery that you found was resonating at the same frequency as the unknown variable in the first ritual.”

“That… doesn’t sound good.”

“Indeed. Now, the field of pneumaturgy is one oft unstudied, to the point where many are unaware of phylacteries such as the diary of Mr. Riddle. One such fact that is rarely known, is how the phylactery works. A most malfeasant ritual, performed on an auspicious day, will allow one to separate their soul from their body, bar a tethering rope, and the magus will be able to place said soul into a prepared object.”

“However, a Greek sorcerer took the original Akkadian ritual and perverted it, allowing the unthinkable. For the soul to be fractured . Not flayed and healed like those of demons, but well and truly broken .”

“Please don’t tell me this is going where I think it is.”

“The phylactery that you found, based on the… unforeseen consequences of the ritual we just performed, was made using that same ritual. Unfortunately, based on the linkage of the phylactery to your scar, it appears as though you are a host to such a shard, however intentionally it was done, I cannot say.”

“Helena, please tell me you’re joking. ‘Cus that sounds like a fucking nightmare .”

“It is merely a hypothesis, one that cannot be confirmed until you are able to feel into your own scar. I shall have to spend much of the remaining year computing the arithmancy for our next step, so you will, unfortunately, have to reside with this knowledge for the rest of the year.”

“Okay. That is… not good, but you said there’s a next step. What is that next step, exactly?”

“The construction of a talisman. I shall require your help with the construction, as well as research into the magical use cases of the different components in my labs, as I have been unable to access sources on non-wand-based magic. Given the delicacy of such a project, I imagine it will only be complete by the December of your third year.”

“Okie-dokes, whilst you do maths, I’ll be having an existential crisis.”

Chapter Text

It was about a month after the whole slaying a basilisk thing that Harry was sitting in the library, going over some of the books on runic magic he had found before the whole Earnest debacle happened. He was enjoying some peace and quiet now that the whole Heir of Slytherin thing had died down, but that peace was not to last, seeing as Hermione plopped down in the chair next to him, a fervent smile plastered on her face.

“‘Mione, I take it you figured something out?”

“I did!” she whisper-shouted. In a slightly quieter voice after the look she got from Madam Pince, she continued. “I figured out what ritual was used to bind Dobby!”

“Oh! Well, do expound away.”

“Well, I was right in thinking that it was a combination of rituals, just not right in how many. I had thought it was a combination of two different rituals, but it was actually three separate rituals that were used.  Given that he’s a lutin, it’s likely he was bound in France, and Blaise found a ritual for binding animistic spirits to a family name devised by Jean D'Espagnet in 1582. It didn’t quite fit the arithmantic calculations, however. Then I looked at Neville’s notes from his family’s library and found that John Dee had devised a similar ritual, just one intended to bind household spirits to a singular person. Factoring that into the calculations, I was so close . Then I realized I’d overlooked something in my own notes. A binding ritual for untethered spirits devised by Ibn Rushd, an Andalusian polymath and wizard. Combining the arithmantic calculations of all three, accounting for the changes that local sacred geometry would have, I was able to get the amalgamation of a ritual used to bind him to a family.”

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten over the past month? You’re lookin’ a little… frenetic.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ve figured out how to break the binding. We’ll need a talisman made of pure iron, encrusted with salt, tempered in sanctified water that’s been magically infused with holly essence in an analogous manner. It’d need to be an ancient symbol though, one that is so strongly associated with France that it’s recognizable at a glance.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’ll have to be the fleur-de-lis.”

It was quite a tiresome endeavor that took the better part of the month, what with how Harry had to practice metallurgy. In the end, they managed to get an adequate, if amateurish, setup. The water they would use to quench the talisman was first purified and poured into a container made of steel, with oghamic inscriptions in it that would act as the magical essence of holly berries, and then sanctified by Harry. They got the iron from Helena’s supply room in the Room of the Lost, and Blaise somehow managed to get an anvil. Hermione was trying to figure out how to set up a proper forge to heat the metal, but Neville pointed out they could use lacarnum inflamari and just not put much power into it.

It was the thirteenth try that Harry succeeded. Using the anvil, a hammer, a chisel, and some magically enhanced pliers he managed to get a recognizable fleur-de-lis. Pulling a second pair of dragon hide gloves over his first set, he encrusted the iron with some of the sanctified salt that they had made the same day, and quickly quenched it in the sanctified water next to the anvil. Setting the talisman back on the anvil, he lifted up the goggles he had on to protect his eyes from the brightness of the flames.

Satisfied that the talisman was of a high enough quality, he grabbed the leather cording that Blaise had set aside, as well as the pieces of deer antlers that Neville had engraved runes of protection onto, and set about making the strap for the talisman, weaving the hollowed out centers of the antler pieces into the leather cording, finally attaching the talisman to it.

“Blaise, querido, the talisman is done. Could you summon him?”

Much like everything else to do with the Dobby Situation as Harry had come to call it, summoning him couldn’t be simple . That’d be too easy. Because he was bound using a bastardization of three different rituals they had to use a Renaissance-era summoning rite that used the Burgundian dialect of Old French.

Seeing the flash of light that indicated the summoning was successful, Harry picked up the finished talisman and walked into the room next to where he had set up their impromptu forge.

“Hello Dobby.”

“Mr. Harry Potter sir, you is saying you is not be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

“Yeah, I lied. Anyway, the plot you were worried about has, in fact, been foiled by yours truly and his friends. Now, let’s get on the topic of you .”

“Dobby, sir?”

“Yeah. I know you don’t like whoever you’re bound to serve, and thanks to the diligent research of my compatriots, we know how you were bound.”

“You is finding how Dobby is being bound? You is being able to help Dobby sir?” the little spirit asked, eyes far too wide to be comfortable.

“Yeah. Hermione, the bushy-haired girl behind you, managed to figure that you needed a specific type of talisman, which I just finished forging for you. If you put it on, you’ll be free from their bindings. Keep it on for a year and a day and you should be fully free from the bindings, and won’t need to wear the talisman any longer.”

Dobby then proceeded to praise Harry and his friends, giving his word that should they need any help from him, they could call his name and he would be there to help them as quickly as possible.

“Finally, got that done. Now we can just relax and spread rumors.”

“Mon chéri, you never fail to amuse.”

Chapter Text

As Harry was sitting in his usual compartment, he reflected back on how the rest of the year had gone. By and large, it was fairly normal. Well, normal for your average person, so boring in his opinion. Classes, exams, boredom, getting detention for having skipped over half of Lockhart’s classes because he was an egomaniacal asshole. Well, it was fairly normal bar two things. The first was Lockhart screwing up a spell badly enough that he was sent to the Spell Damage Ward of Saint Mungo’s, and the second was that one time he got roped into one of the Weasley Twins’ hair-brained schemes to make some new, inane, product.

“Hello there Harrykins.”

“Fred, George. I assume you need my… assistance with something.”

“Indeed we do. Fred and I need some rather… specific ingredients from Snape’s personal storeroom.” Fred said.

“They’re rather rare, and happen to be what we need for a specific item we’re busy workshopping. George heard on the grapevine that you happen to be adept with a lockpick. We’ve already organized a form of distraction, we just need you to get what’s on this list.” George continued, handing over a piece of parchment as he did.

“Well, that is interesting. I’ll help, but I have some conditions. One, I get a batch of it that works. Two, you both owe me a favor, no questions asked. Three, Blaise gets to look over the distraction y’all have planned, because I’d rather not be responsible for a student being hospitalized.”

It was a good thing he had set that third condition, seeing as the twins had planned on blowing up a potion when they had a class with Snape and he didn’t. A problem with that plan was that according to the fourth-year curriculum that Blaise had gotten from God knows where, that lesson was going to be Weedosoros, an incredibly potent poison. Blaise somehow managed to get a fifth year into the plot without letting slip what he needed a distraction for.

With the help of the aforementioned fifth year, through means unknown, Harry had managed to get a guaranteed hour where Snape wouldn’t be going to check on his office, and thus his personal stores. Considering it was Snape’s stores he was stealing from, Harry made sure to leave as little a trace as possible. Unfortunately for him, Snape was one of the few wand-wavers logical enough to acknowledge other methods of theft beyond magical means.

It took a while, but Harry managed to pick the locks to both Snape’s office and stores, making sure he was wearing his dragon hide gloves so as not to leave any fingerprints. Snape’s personal potions storeroom was… gross. There were a lot of different ingredients that looked like they were only there to gross out intruders. It took almost all of the remaining time to find the ingredients on the list he’s been given. What the hell did Powered Cap of Night even look like anyway?

Shifting in his seat in the train, Harry looked at the little rock he was turning around in his fingers. The heist was definitely worth it, even if the Darkness Powder he was holding was an unrefined if functional prototype. Putting it back in his satchel, he opened the book he was busy with, settling in for the rest of the train ride.

When they got to the platform they all agreed to meet up with each other in Diagon Alley to get their school supplies as well as whatever else they would need, or wanted, to get. Once they had all finalized their plans, Harry headed over to where Frank was.

“Well kid, that insane plot that lutin warned you about happen? Oh, and any news on the weird soul thing?”

“Oh yeah, news on both ends. Which one d'ya want first?”

“Hm. Let’s go for the plot first.”

“Well, turns out there was an actual plot going on. Don’t know who was behind it, but there was this diary that was a phylactery with a shard of a soul, dude called Tom Riddle, that was possessing the youngest Weasley kid. Made her open the Chamber of Secrets, which had a Basilisk in it. Killed it in January. Destroyed the diary not long after.” Harry said as he and Frank got into his car.

“Are you fucken’ with me? A fucking basilisk? What idjit thought it was a good idea to put a basilisk underneath a fucken’ school!”

“I dunno. We wound up freeing that lutin as well. Anyways, second thing. Turns out, I might be a phylactery.”

“WHAT!” Frank yelled, accidentally stamping on the brake. Luckily there weren’t many cars on the road, so he didn’t rear-end someone. Once he regained his composure, he asked again. “You might be a what ?”

“Yeah, so according to Helena, I might be a phylactery. Keyword is might . There were some… odd results in some of the rituals we did to test my weird ghost magic. Long story short, I might have a bit of Voldemort’s soul in my scar. Helena’s working on the maths to make an amulet that should let me… get into my scar, I guess? Basically, it should let me see if her theory is right.”

“Kid, you have the worst luck in the world. Lighter topics, please .”

“Jeez, okay. I’ve been meaning to ask, ya reckon anyone else’s made an online database for Hunters? I was thinking of making one. Ya know, info on common, and some rarer monsters, database of active Hunters and their current contact info. Password protected section so that trustworthy people outside of the Moon know about wizards and stuff.”

“Why exactly did you start thinking about this?”

“Mostly cus it’s a way to make money. Y’know commission from info orders on the less common stuff, stuff on demons, that sorta thing.” Pushing open the door to the Hunter’s Moon he continued. “I was thinking ‘Occult Informant’.”

Chapter Text

Causality is a funny thing. One event leads to another, and so on. Change that first base event, however, and things butterfly out of control. That single change, in this instance, brought different skills, and different avenues of information gathering into Harry Potter’s world. In a different timeline, he would have believed what he learned about Sirius Black and would have had to learn about him from eavesdropping. That isn’t that timeline, however.

Harry had been having a good summer. He’d spent some time in Italy with Blaise at the behest of his mother, gone shopping with Hermione a bit and helped Neville in his family’s greenhouses. His good time was slightly soiled now, seeing as there was a suspicious report of a prisoner escape. Naturally, he couldn’t just leave it alone and he knew the first place to look for information.

“Frank!” Harry called out as he walked into the Hunter’s Moon.

“What d’ya need kid?”

“You ever heard of a Sirius Black?”

“Damn, didn’t expect to hear that name again. Yeah, I have, why d’ya ask?”

“Well, I was reading the newspaper this morning, and I saw an article on a breakout from a high security prison. Only issue is they never actually said which prison it was that he broke out of, which by itself is odd, but I also know for a fact that there aren’t any high security prisons nearby. So, ya know anything?”

“Yeah, there’s a reason they didn’t say what prison he broke out of it. He’s a wizard. I never really knew him all that well, I only transferred to Hogwarts during fourth year, but he was pretty close friends with ya dad. Part of a little band of pranksters. It was ya dad James, Sirius, some nerdy dude called Remus and some timid kid called… Peter, I think? Anyway, ‘parently Sirius was secretly a Death Eater, gave your parents over to ol’ No-Nose, and wound up killing twelve mundanes and Peter.”

“Why is it apparently Frank?”

“Well, from what I heard, when the Aurors got on the scene, he was just on his knees, muttering some crap about it being all his fault. Went with them quietly and everything. Doesn’t exactly sound like what a terrorist would do.”

“Sounds like a shock response, not an admission of guilt. Why are wizards and governments so incompetent?” Harry bemoaned.

“There’s also the fact that Sirius was so close to James he got disowned by his family in… sixth year, I think? Ran away from home, the whole shebang.”

“You know why he broke out? Also, could you get that Aussie friend of yours to set up like six phones?” Harry asked, pulling out his laptop to work on his database some more.

“Sure thing and also nope! Have fun trying to figure it out!” Frank replied far too cheerfully.

It was two weeks later that Harry and his friends met up to do their school shopping like they had agreed at the end of the last school year. Like they had last year, they met up at Florean Fortescue’s parlor.

“First things first, y’all get to have magic phones!” Harry said as he handed out the modified phones he had gotten. “Figure it’s a good thing that we be able to contact each other whenever we need to, and you get to call ya folks ‘Mione. Second, what did everyone actually choose for their electives? I’m taking Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Well, I’m taking mostly the same as you Harry, bar the addition of Arithmancy. I initially wanted to take all of the electives, so I would have the best options for job prospects, but Lukas Arkwright pointed out that I can take the OWLs and NEWTs later via self-study, and it would be rather stressful.” Hermione replied.

“Runes, magic maths and Divination.” Blaise commented as he sculpted the whipped cream on his milkshake. Seeing the look Harry was giving him he continued. “What, carissimo? If I can use magic to find gossip I will.”

“Care and Muggle studies over here.”

“Huh. Bookstore first then?”

As it turned, everyone that was taking electives did agree that the bookstore would be the best place to stop off first ( Luna decided to go off to the Albion Library of the Occult), which was a good idea, seeing as it usually got crowded later in the day and, as they would soon find out, one of the books most of them were assigned liked to bite.

They had managed to gather up all of the books they needed, bar the Monster Book of Monsters, so naturally they figured they’d ask the store clerk where to find it.

“Hi, would you happen to know where the… Monster Book of Monsters is? We’ve checked the whole store and couldn’t find it.” Harry asked.

“Merlin, not more of that one. You wouldn’t have found it because we need to keep them caged up. They like to bite. Right, how many copies do you need?”

“Oh. Three.” Harry replied, questioning how bad a book could be that they would need to keep it in a cage.

“Right. Three of those horrid books for you.” The clerk said as he thumped them on the counter. “Make sure they stayed tied up, or you’ll have to head to Saint Mungo’s.”

“I’m sorry, but are those books sentient ?” Hermione asked, a little outraged.

“Yes, it’s why they can bite things, Miss.”

“It’s sentient, and themed around animals? Why not try and stroke the fur?” Blaise asked.

“Oh. I suppose I never thought of that.” The clerk commented, before testing if that would calm down the book. “Well, would you look at that! Thank you for the help young lad.”

As they left the store with their acquired goods, Harry could have sworn he heard Blaise mutter something about ‘incompetent wizards not worth their weight in gold’. The rest of their shopping passed by rather uneventfully, at least until Hermione vanished after they returned to the Ice Cream Parlor.

“Hey, where did Hermione go?”

“I dunno Nev. She said something about leftover money as an early birthday gift from her folks.”

It was at that moment that Harry heard a meow behind him, and Blaise spoke.

“Hermione, why do you have a half-kneazel with you?”

“Isn’t he just gorgeous? My parents gave me extra money, to buy myself an early birthday gift, so I was planning on getting an owl at first, but then Harry got us those phones, and the store clerk at Magical Menagerie said no one wanted to but him as long as they’ve had him, and I just felt so bad for him.”

“Well ‘Mione, you gonna introduce him, or can he talk?” Harry asked teasingly.

“Oh right! Everyone meet Crookshanks!” Hermione said holding him up to the rest of the group.

“Why do I get the feeling that this year is going to be… interesting again?”

“God alone knows Neville, God alone.”

Chapter Text

In a different timeline, Harry would have been chronically late to getting to Platform 9¾. In that timeline the only compartment that was free was one with a professor, asleep. In that timeline, Harry knew scant few ways of defending himself, especially from those of a more spectral nature.

This isn’t that timeline, however, and that isn’t how that day went.

It was an average day at first and remained average for quite a while actually. Harry had naturally gotten on the train at his usual time, making sure he got his compartment and pulled out his laptop to send off information packets for some of the orders he had gotten now that his site was fully online.

“Let’s see, Rob in Kent with an… acheri? Welp, send. Let’s see, Rodriguez in Manchester with a … buruburu. Oof, good luck to that guy. And sent. Huh, America. Winchester’s with a… crocotta? Tough luck, but let’s get that sent.”

It was as he was sending off that last email that Hermione opened the door to the compartment and sat down across from him.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending off some commissions from Hunters. I just finished up actually.”

“Two questions. One, how do Hunters get in touch with you? Two, what kinds of commissions?”

“First, my database site. It’s got current contact info for most of the active Hunters I know of, as well as my official email, and a work number, for orders. Second, information packets, translations, symbol identification, monster identification, spell work help. Anything to do with the supernatural really.”

“Let me get this straight. You do research, and you get paid for it?” Hermione asked, a glint in her eyes.

“Yup. If you want, I’ll give you dev access to the site. You’ll be able to update the different info sections, though make sure not to add anything that’s too rare, and you’ll be considered a Research Assistant, so you’ll get a cut of the commissions. Oh first though, you got a Swiss bank account?”

“Harry, my uncle’s husband is an accountant. All my family's accounts are Swiss.”

“Then you’re in. I’ll send a link once you’re linked in. Cool bonus is the unlimited Restricted Section access.”

“How did you manage that?”

“The Cloak, and also the wards on the entrance are disgustingly weak. I just altered them very slightly , so now it thinks I’m a professor. I’ll do the same for you as well.”

After they finished their discussion, Harry was mostly focused on giving Hermione access to his site, as well as tweaking the way it looked and navigated. Just because it was functional didn’t mean it was optimized, and there would always be room to improve the site. Whilst he was fiddling with the spacing of the lettering, the rest of their group sat down.

It was about an hour after the train started moving, and forty-five minutes after Harry exchanged his laptop for his Foe-Glass and the design book he used for notes on it that he remembered something.

“Oh, Blaise, your mother knows important things, right?”

“Caro mio, she’s a Contessa, of course she does.”

“Well mi amor, would she happen to have heard anything about Sirius Black?”

“Oh, she’s certainly heard rumors. Apparently the most common one is that he’s broken out to try and finish the job by killing you off. There are also people that think he’s been innocent all along and there’s a Ministry cover-up, then there are the people who think he’s trying to kill some inane celebrity.”

“Huh. People are weird.”

“That they are, that they are.”

Harry had finally figured out what the string of runes on the rim of the Foe-Glass was and was busy trying to figure out how to apply that effect to his glasses when the train suddenly started slowing down at the completely wrong time.

“This isn’t right. Hermione, when is the train meant to stop?”

“We’re meant to pull into the Hogsmeade station at half past nine. It’s only a quarter to eight.”

“Um, guys, is it just me, or did it get really cold all of a sudden?”

It was at that moment that all the lights on the train all of a sudden went out.

Pulling a flashlight out of his satchel and turning it on, Harry spoke. “Okay, something is going on. I’m gonna check with some of the neighboring compartments, don’t leave ours, I’ve warded it against most of what I know can be warded against.”

Heading out of the compartment, he checked with the compartments next to his, as well as the ones just one over. Their residents were panicking over what went wrong and were rather useless overall. Heading back into his compartment, Harry suddenly stopped in the doorway.

“Why are the windows frosted over?”

Settling back into his seat, he addressed the cabin. “Anyone know of anything that could cause all of this?”

Neville spoke up with “Well, there’re always dementors.”

“What are dementors, and why do I get the feeling I won’t like them?”

“They’re… well I don’t know what they, they might be a kind of spirit, but they kind of… supercool the atmosphere they’re in, and they kind of… absorb, I guess, the light around them. They also exude an aura of depression and despair, though the worst part is that they can suck someone’s soul from their body, but they guard Azkaban, so it would make no sense for them to be on the train.”

It was whilst they were sitting in the dark, their only source of light coming from Harry’s flashlight, that it started happening. Despair, and fear, the same type he had felt eight years ago. If the faces of his friends were anything to go off of, they were experiencing similar levels of despair. It was at the same time as the feeling of despair peaked that he saw a rotten, scaly, and fetid hand move to widen the slight gap in between the door and the wall, before seemingly encountering a wall that none of the compartment’s residents could see.

Suspicious about why it couldn’t move its hand any further, and with the despair pushed to the back of his mind by the need to know if he could combat such a horrifying creature, Harry decided to mutter the beginnings of the Rituale Romanum, in the interest of seeing if it had an effect.

In his defense, no one would have been able to expect that it would disintegrate the dementor.

Chapter Text

Once everyone was over the shock of seeing what most people thought was unkillable be killed, Harry broke the silence. “Huh. I did not expect that to work, or be so effective.”

“Harry, sweetheart, what exactly did you do?”

“Well, darling, I… exorcized it, I think?”

“Why did you try and exorcize a dementor love?”

“Well, it was kinda tryin’ to open the door, but its hand couldn’t get into the little gap that was there, so I was kinda throwing caution to the wind and figured they might be similar to demons, and uh… ‘parently I was right?”

It was at that moment that their door got knocked on, with Hermione opening the door.

“Hello, sir. Is there anything you need help with?”

“Yes, actually. I was doing rounds of the train to check on the students after the… incursion , by the dementors, but then encountered the odd ash outside your compartment. Do any of you know what happened?”

“Our resident exorcist happened to have gotten to a dementor.” Neville spoke up.

“Are you certain that that was a dementor? They are notorious for being unkillable. Also, it would be appreciated if you could name this ‘resident exorcist’.”

Rather annoyed by the intrusion, and by the implication that his friend was uncertain about the reality of the situation, Harry spoke up, annoyance seeping into his voice. “My friends don’t have a loose grasp on reality, sir . Neville’s right in saying I got to the dementor. Was there anything else you needed?”

The rather ill-looking man froze up for a short time when he looked at Harry, before answering his question. “No, there isn’t, though a parting word of advice. Drink some hot chocolate at the feast. It’ll help with the dementor exposure.”

After the older man left and Harry had gathered up some of the dementor ashes, to the confusion of his friends, the atmosphere on the train was rather more sedate, with everyone mostly returning to whatever they had been doing, but with a distinct undercurrent of fear and sadness. It took a while longer for the train to arrive at the Hogsmeade station and by the time it did everyone was looking forward to getting into the castle, and the warmth that it would provide.

It was as Harry and his collection of friends were getting in one of the thestral-drawn carriages that Luna said something. “I believe I saw some dementors positioned at the castle gates. You could test if what happened earlier was a one-off. Helena would be most interested in hearing about it if it isn’t.”

Deciding she was right, and still feeling a little out of sorts that there were literal soul-suckers positioned around a school , Harry figured it couldn’t hurt to test Luna’s theory. Starting up the chant as they were getting close the things, her theory was proven correct. Passing by the dementors by the gates, keeping up the chanting, the quintet watched as both dementors seemed to explode into a cloud of dust and ash that very quickly settled down.

As it turned out, disintegrating three dementors would actually have consequences, as the moment he stepped foot into the castle, McGonagall immediately called him to her office.

Her office was rather professional, nothing at all like how Dumbledore’s had looked when he had been in it last year. Sitting across from him, Professor McGonagall started the conversation, even if it felt more like an inquisition.

“Now, Mr. Potter, there have been… interesting reports about what happened on the Hogwarts Express, when the dementors boarded it. Professor Lupin says you claim to have, and I am quoting his description, ‘turned a dementor to ashes’. Is he correct in saying that you claim to have done that?”

Well, finally a face for the name.“I only claimed to have gotten to them first. It wasn’t even that I turned them to ash, I just disintegrated them.”

“Them, Mr. Potter? Am I to take that you have since dispatched more than the singular dementor that Professor Lupin reported?”

“Yeah. Luna suggested I should test if the first one was a fluke or not with the ones at the gates to the castle, and it was not, in fact, a fluke.”

“Mr. Potter, I find myself in the rather unpleasant situation of having to ask you to stop . It is not that I disapprove of what you have done, but the dementors are technically considered Ministry employees, thus it is only slightly against the law to take action against them. Now, off to the Great Hall with you.”

His late entrance into the Great Hall naturally drew a few eyes, though that might have been the dementor incident that did it. Sitting at the Gryffindor table he noticed, with great joy, that he had managed to miss the Sorting Ceremony.

It was at that moment that Dumbledore stood up. “Welcome to yet another year at Hogwarts, or perhaps your first for those students that have just been sorted. Now, there are announcements to be made and, given the severity of one of them, I feel it important to make them before we start the feast.”

“As you will all be aware, due to their search of the Hogwarts Express earlier this evening, we shall be playing host to the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.” He paused for a second, face darkening almost imperceptibly, before continuing. “They are stationed at every entrance to the school’s grounds, and whilst they are here, I must make certain that you know you are not to leave the school without permission. Dementors will not be fooled by tricks, disguises, glamors… or Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in their nature to understand pleading, nor excuses. Give them no reason to harm you, and you shall remain safe.”

After giving the Great Hall a sweeping look, he continued. “Now, on to happier things. I am pleased to announce two new members of staff. The first is our new Professor for Defence against the Dark Arts, Professor Remus Lupin.” Whilst there was some half-hearted clapping, Harry was absorbed in his own thoughts. Perhaps it was the same Remus that Frank had mentioned? Neville was certainly right in saying this would be an interesting year. He only managed to catch the last part of the next staff announcement “-Care of Magical Creatures, Rubeus Hagrid.” The book made sense now.

He was quite ready for bed, but as they went up to their dorms, he had to reline his bed with salt, seeing as the húsvættir had cleaned up the lining he had done last year, and he had to hang up the various charms and talismans he took down to take home last year. Really, setting his movable wards back up was quite the hassle, but he wasn’t going to risk not having them.

Chapter Text

The day after the Sorting Ceremony was, to most people’s dismay, a Tuesday which meant that the students no longer had a brief respite. Harry was mostly looking forward to seeing what his two electives were like, as well as hearing about the others he wasn’t taking from his friends. He had Ancient Runes as the first of his electives for today, however, he only had it at the end of the day.

Not much was different with his classes. Snape was still an acerbic dick, and Flitwick was still as jovial as ever. No the class that made it not much was his first Defence Against the Dark Arts. Now, as a general rule, Harry was dismissive of Defence, given the track record of decently competent but evil, and egomaniacal fraud. He wasn’t expecting much from this Professor. His first lesson would have him be pleasantly surprised and absolutely horrified.

For the first five or so minutes of the lesson, Lupin wasn’t in the class. When he entered, he put his briefcase on his desk and spoke. “Good morning. Now, if you could all put away your books and take out your wands. Todays lesson is going to be practical. Once you’re done, please follow me.”

As it turned out, the room that Lupin was leading them to was the staffroom. However, when they rounded the corner, they saw the door to a broom closet, with Peeves floating upside down at the door, cackling as he stuffed gum into the keyhole of the staffroom door. It was when they were about two feet away that Peeves noticed Lupn and started singing a weird song.

“Loony loopy Lupin, loony loopy Lupin, loony loopy Lupi-”

“If I were you, I’d remove the gum from that Peeves.” Lupin said, “Mr. Filch might struggle to get his brooms.”

“Shan’t. Why should I?”

Deciding that this weird interplay was boring, Harry decided to speak up, in case Lupin decided to do something to the poltergeist, who had somehow managed to endear himself to him. 

“Peeves, stop being annoying.”

“Fine, but only because the wee little exorcist said so. Though he doesn’t have to be so boring.”

With that solved, the group continued on, going down another corridor and up a set of stairs, finally getting to a different door, which Lupin opened, ushering the students into the staffroom. It was a long, paneled room that they entered into, with mismatched furniture and portraits of previous professors hanging on the walls. It was empty bar Snape who, upon seeing the students entering the room, sneered and left the room before Lupin could enter.

“Now, I’ll need a volunteer for this first demonstration. Could we have…. Mandy Brocklehurst step forward please?”

A timid, curly-haired blonde stepped forward when Lupin called out her name.

“Now, Mandy, I’m going to need you to help me with this first step of the lesson today. Now, gather round everyone.”

As everyone stepped closer, Harry saw what they were looking at. A simple, unadorned closet, presumably where the teachers stored spare robes. One wouldn’t have thought much of it, if it weren’t for the fact that, when Lupin went to stand next to it, it started rattling around.

Seeing that multiple students had jolted backward, Lupin spoke up. “There’s no need to worry, it’s just a boggart.”

Based on how most of the class reacted, this was, in fact, a rather good reason to worry. Ron was looking at the closet in barely concealed horror, with Finnegan looking at the doorhandle with trepidation.

“Now, the first thing to know about boggarts is that they like dark, enclosed spaces. Cupboards, closets, underneath the bed, beneath the kitchen sink. I’ve even seen one that lodged itself in the column of a grandfather clock. I encountered this one the other day, and I asked the Headmaster if he’d leave it for your year to get some practice. We’ll be finishing it off in this lesson, as I’ve already had your Slytherin and Hufflepuff year mates weaken it last period.”

“The first question we must ask ourselves is: What is a boggart?”

It was at that question that Hermione’s hand sprung in the air, with Lupin acknowledging it not long after.

“Boggarts are a kind of shapeshifter, that can take the form of that which it thinks will frighten us most.”

“A mostly accurate answer, though not entirely on the mark. Could anyone help elaborate on Miss Granger’s point?”

Blaise was the next one to give an answer, his hand having raised up lazily.

“They’re an aberrant spirit that feeds off the fear of the person for whom it has shifted its form, leading some spectrologists to believe they may be extantly linked with dementors, some thinking that they might be a phantasmic precursor to them.”

“Excellent! Now, the boggart in this cupboard has yet to take a form, but when I release the boggart, it will take the form that it thinks fits the person closest to it. We, however, have an advantage over the boggart. Could you let us know what that is, Mr. Potter?”

“We have a large group of people, so it wouldn’t easily be able to tell who’s closest to it, so it won’t be as effective in taking a form that is one singular fear.”

“Precisely. It’s advised to deal with a boggart with others present. What should it become? The headless corpse, or the flesh-eating slug? I’ve seen that happen, and it just turned into half a slug. Not at all frightening. The charm used to repel a boggart is rather simple, but it requires mental will. The reason why, you see, is that a boggart is only truly finished off by laughter. The charm is, after me please, Riddikulus.” Hearing the calling of the spell, he continued. “Very good! However, the word alone is not quite enough, which is where you come in Miss Brocklehurst.”

“Now, Miss Brocklehurst, what would you say frightens you most?”

Just about audible, she murmured, “Trolls.”

“Understandably so. Now, you live with your aunt, yes?” Seeing her nod, he asked another question. “Now, what kind of outfits would you say she likes to wear?”

“Um, she really likes wearing Regency-era clothing, but mostly walking suits.”

“Does she have any accessories she likes to wear with her walking suits?”

“She has a really big hat that she has to use hat pins to keep in place.”

“Good. Now, when I open this door, the boggart will be closest to Miss Brocklehurst and so will turn into a troll, or at least one that can fit into the confines of this room. Now, what I want you to do Miss Brocklehurst is to imagine a troll in one of your aunt's most elaborate walking suits, wearing that same large hat.”

Whilst Mandy was busy concentrating on what a troll would look like in one of her aunt’s walking suits, Lupin turned to the rest of the class. “If Miss Brocklehurst is successful, the boggart will then turn its attention to one of us. Whilst she is thinking, I would like all of you to contemplate what your greatest fear is, and how you might make it comical.”

What frightened him most? Well, that was a bit of a complicated question when it came down to it for Harry. The basilisk killing him, maybe? Or the potential shard of a soul in his forehead? Deep down though, Harry knew both of those were wrong. When the boggart got to him, he knew what he would see. Gleaming claws, dripping with blood, teeth too long to be human, and those slightly glowing, soulless, blood-red eyes. Looking around, he saw Blaise looking quietly contemplative, and Hermione with her eyes screwed tight.

“Everyone ready? Now, Mandy, we're going to back away,” Clearly a bad idea in Harry’s opinion. “To allow you a clear field, and I’ll call the next person up. Everyone back up a bit now.”

Once they were all by the walls, Lupin shot off some sparks at the door, releasing the boggart. As the door opened, a great, lumbering troll came out, club poised to hit Mandy, until she yelled out “Riddikulus!” which shoved the troll into quite the elegant, yet professional, walking with the most ostentatious hat Harry had seen ever. The club transformed as well, becoming a delicate primrose-patterned parasol.

At that, the entire class burst into laughter, causing the boggart to pause and look confused, until Lupin yelled out Parvati’s name, causing her to step forward. Seeing a new target, the troll turned into a bandage-covered, blood-stained mummy, which fell over a loose bandage thanks to Parvati’s casting.

“Seamus!”

The mummy turned into a banshee, who started wailing, up until Seamus cast, and caused her to lose her voice. It carried on like this for a while. From a banshee to a rat that was made to chase its tail, the rat turned into Pennywise who was made into a jack-in-the-box, and Pennywise turned into a loose eyeball.

“We’re confusing it! Dean, you’re up!”

The eyeball became a severed, moving hand, which got trapped by a mousetrap, but turned into a massive spider when Ron was called forward,  which he proceeded to remove the legs from, making it roll around. The next person up was Harry, who had his wand at the ready, but noticed that Professor Lupin was moving to prevent him from confronting the Boggart. Problem was, he was a little too late and got between the boggart and Harry as it turned into the wendigo he had seen when he was seven.

When Lupin moved between the faux-wendigo and Harry the boggart transformed once again, but it wasn’t anything he would have expected. No, Lupin’s boggart was… the moon? That warranted further observation, but Harry had a class to get to and Lupin had just dispatched the boggart and dismissed them after awarding Blaise, Hermione and himself points for answering the questions correctly.

Chapter Text

That next class was the one Harry had been looking forward to taking, and based on the first lesson, he would absolutely enjoy it.

Walking into the class with Blaise and Hermione, he saw that it was mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws taking the class, and was also pleased to see that their professor was in the class already, and thus wouldn’t be five minutes late. When everyone had settled down in their seats she moved off her desk where she was sitting.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Study of Ancient Runes! I am Professor Bathsheba Babbling, and I will be taking this course through the next three years, until your OWLs. If yo get an Exceeds Expectations, then you will be allowed to continue your studies to a NEWT level.”

“Now, the first thing we must talk about is safety. Can anyone tell me what the most dangerous subject you’ve taken is? You, Mr…?”

“Uh, Corner ma’am. Is it Defence?”

“No, it is not , good guess though,” she said as she threw a stone at him that he caught. “Now could you tell me why ?”

“Well, there’s usually a professor there if any help is needed, and the spells we’re taught usually have easy counters?”

“Exactly! In other words, the ill effects are reversible just like with Charms, given the large overlap between the subjects. What do you think it is Miss…”

“Miss Granger. Is it transfiguration?”

“Close, but no.” She said, throwing the same type of stone to Hermione. “Transfigurative spells are still predetermined, and have limiting variables.”

Deciding to actually contribute to the class, Harry raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr…” Well, that was appreciated, knowing Babbling wouldn’t be inclined to care for celebritydom.

“Potter, ma’am, and it’s Potions. Spells have counters and parameters, but the wrong ingredient or the right one picked under the wrong auspices, and a simple Cure for Boils might wind up producing toxic gases.”

Catching the stone thrown at him, he listened as Babbling continued. “Mr. Potter is correct in saying that, thus far, the most dangerous topic you have studied is potions. Holly instead of huckleberry and it could blow up a room. However, that will change. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to close your eyes.” As she said this, she pulled down a screen behind her desk, showing a rather gruesome scene of a bifurcated head.

“Can anyone tell me what they think this was intended to be? Yes, you Miss…”

“Bones. Was it meant to be a defense system?”

“It would look like that, wouldn’t it? But no, it was meant to be a sort of butler, following you when needed, so you could have drinks, or books following you. Naturally, they started it with Raidō, meaning ‘horse’ but denoting movement, pairing it with Thurisaz, translated as being about Thor, for its meanings of caution, and moderation. Depending on what it’s paired with, that would make sense. However, the next rune they used was Hagalaz paired with Wunjo, translated as hail and joy, though esoterically used for determination and success respectfully.”

“If they had inscribed Ansuz, translated as ‘god’ typically, but used to temper a schematic, and add stability, as well as a degree of sentience that allows control, then they would have had no issue. However, the next rune that was inscribed was Tiwaz. Traditionally translated as being about the Norse deity, it’s usually seen as symbolizing a spear and magically is generally used for propulsion. You can see how well that went.”

Harry was rather surprised. It seemed she genuinely understood the field and was good at conveying that information as well.

“Now, that wasn’t the entire array, but those errors, in conjunction with linking Hagalaz which also denotes chaos, and Tiwaz together and to the powering system were severe enough that it was fatal. The body count numbered five, every resident of the house killed before it shattered on the stone fireplace after breaking through the wooden walls.”

“Runic magic is dangerous , my dears. Runic magic, as we with wands understand it, can be achieved with any language, but the older, the more powerful. Modern tongues, like English or Spanish, could work just fine for broad range, short-term effects, and there are plenty of modern linguistic mutations with spells, such as episkey being the mutation of the Ancient Greek episkevi. Elder Futhark, Vedic Sanskrit, Etruscan, Ogham, Hieroglyphs, Hieratic, Canaanite, Sumerian and Akkadian cuneiform, Aramaic Hebrew, Ancient Chinese, and Mycenaean Greek. These are the cornerstones of a runic mage, because of how old they are, and how consistently they have been used by magi.”

“Beyond that, they have symbolic meanings, they are not mere symbols, but words and in some cases, devotions. Modern tongues have had much of their symbolic nature, their ambiguity and poetic nature, stripped from them for the sake of efficiency. Ancient systems have not. They are what magic remembers, what it knows. They are fluid, unpredictable, subject to a complex interplay with each other, one symbol changing the meaning of another, able to be layered over each other in a dynamic, living system.”

“The modern Y is a simple phonetic, and a phonetic alone. Its runic counterpart, Eihwaz, could be analogous to a Y, or it could represent the yew tree. It could be used to symbolize death, or perhaps life. Change and opportunity, or the determination to push through to the end. What matters most when inscribing the symbol, is the meaning you intend to use. You must know those meanings beforehand, and you must know them as intimately as you do your own heart, but you must also understand the changes that occur with the interplay of different meanings, and how their closeness and their separation can affect them.”

As she paused, an unsettled silence fell over the class.

“Now, some of you may be considering dropping this class, and to those of you considering that, I encourage you to do so. Runic working is dangerous and I have yet to lose a student, and I will not in the future by letting a lout, who is blasé abut the risks, take this class. If you are late or unprepared, you will be asked to leave for the day and shall have to schedule an appointment with me to catch up. More than three time without a sufficient reason, and you will be removed from this course, to attempt again the next year. If this occurs a second time, no course I teach will be one attended by you. You can complain to your Heads of House, but they know my standards and you’ll just give them acid reflux.”

“Now, who’s ready to study the meanings and associations of Fehu!”

Oh, Harry could tell this was going to be one of his favorite lessons, an opinion only further solidified by the fact that Babbling was able to explain the fundamentals of runic magic, whilst touching on how that could be applied in more advanced ways. By the end of the lesson, Professor Babbling had instructed them on how to make a good luck talisman, which was rather handy. He might turn into a necklace if he were honest.

Chapter Text

It was a Friday when Harry had his first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. It seemed like it was going to be… interesting if Hagrid as a professor was anything to go by. Sure, he might not have spoken to him all that much, but he’d heard about the fire that burned part of his house which, according to Blaise’s contacts, was caused by a dragon of all things.

When he, Hermione and Neville got to Hagrid’s hut, they saw him standing outside, waiting for the rest of the class to get there. When the rest of the class had gathered in front of the hut, Hagrid spoke up for the first time.

"C'mon, let’s get movin’!” He called to the gathered class. “I’ve got a real treat for yeh today, a great lesson. Right, follow me!”

Following Hagrid led the class to a location just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which was a bit of a surprise, seeing as it was, by and large, seen as being too dangerous to enter. The sight before them was quite an odd one. They had been brought to an empty paddock for some reason.

“Everyone gather ‘round the fence, open yer books while I go get the creature we’re gonnabe learnin’ ‘bout today!”

“So, ‘Mione, you know school type stuff right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Mostly ‘cus I was wondering if you knew what creature we’re gonna be learning about?”

“Well, I know what we’re meant to be learning about, but I have a feeling that we won’t be following the curriculum all that strictly .”

“Hermione, what exactly leads you to believe that?”

“The hippogriffs, Neville. The hippogriffs that he’s leading here.”

Turning back to the paddock, Harry saw a dozen… interestingly formed creatures. The torsos, back legs and tail of a horse, combined with the front legs, wings and head of what looked to be an eagle, though some of them looked more falcon-like, their talons half a foot in length, and deadly looking. Their beaks varied in color, some being steel-grey, others being a dusty yellow. Their eyes, however, were all the same intense, angry-looking orange. Each creature had a thick leather collar, attached to long chains held in Hagrid’s hands.

“Gee up!” He yelled to urge the hippogriffs forward. Everyone but Hermione, Harry and Neville pulled back. “Hippogriffs! Aren’ they beau’iful?”

They really were rather pretty, in an odd, murderous sort of way, with their shining talons, smooth pelt and fluffy feathers.

“Now, firs’ thing yeh need to know ‘bout hippogriffs is they’re proud. Offended real easy, and if ya insul’ one, it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait an’ let the hippogriff make the firs’ move. It’s polite, yeh see. Yeh walk forward and bow to ‘em and wait. If it bows back, yeh’re allowed to touch it. If it doesn’t, move away from it real quick, ‘cause those talons hurt.”

“Right, who wants to go first?”

Seeing that no one was willing to get near the creatures, bar his little cohort looking interested, Harry piped up. “I’ll do it.”

“Good man! Right, let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

As Hagrid was retrieving said hippogriff, Harry was muttering under his breath. “Oh no, a troll invades, we’re scared! Oh, a mystery monster is roaming the halls petrifying us!  Oh no, somehow a hippogriff is still scary in comparison. Honestly .”

When Hagrid had finished retrieving Buckbeak, and Harry had finished complaining to himself, he walked up to the hippogriff, close enough that it focused on him, but far enough so as to be respectful, and stood, awaiting further instruction

“Easy now, yeh’ve got eye contact now, so try no’ to blink. Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much. Now, yeh’ll wan’ to bow to ‘im.”

Still looking Buckbeak in the eyes he bowed deeply, before coming back up, waiting for him to bow as well, whilst he stood looking at him haughtily.

Unfortunately for him, Buckbeak did not bow back and, instead, started pacing about and huffing, much like an angry horse. Seeing that if he stayed things would just accelerate to maiming he backed up quickly. After that little incident, the class went rather smoothly, if you excluded dragging that blond dick away from an obviously angry hippogriff. He might not like the idiot, but he was a civilian, and saving them was, rather unfortunately in some instances, what a Hunter did.

Thankfully for him, it was lunch after class, which gave him the perfect chance to catch up with Helena. It took a while to find her, but find her he did. Uncharacteristically she was on the grounds outside the castle. More precisely, near the thestral herd.

“Hey Helena, I’ve been lookin’ for ya, got some news, but first, I was wondering if you’d gotten anywhere with the arithmancy for the talisman?”

“Ah, Mr. Potter. As it happens, I have. I believe I have devised the correct runic sequence length for the amulet, as well as the geometric base. From there, I must conjugate the Latin inscription, and we must cross-reference my stores with modern material component uses. What is it you have to share ?”

“Oh, I killed three dementors.”

It seemed that Harry had made a habit of making Helena display different emotions if her shocked expression was anything to go by. “Surely your jest, no?”

“Nope.” Harry replied, popping the p whilst rocking on his heels. “Tried to exorcize the first one and it kinda just… disintegrated. Luna suggested I test if it was a fluke on the two by the castle gates, and uh, ‘parently it wasn’t.”

“This is… an interesting development. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what knowledge do you have of dementors?”

“Well, they’re meant to be unkillable, they eat souls, have a depressive aura, and make things real cold.”

“I wonder, does that sound… familiar to you?”

“Well, it kinda sounds demonic, which is why I tried to exorcize the first one, but it sounds more like a… a sorta cousin, or nephew.”

“Precisely so. Many believe the dementor to be a creation of a Dark Lord by the name of Ekrizdis, though they would be wrong. They were an… experiment of sorts, one performed by the upper echelons of the Infernal, in an attempt to create something more efficient than hellhounds. They failed miserably, though it is an… intriguing turn of events that you are able to affect demonic creations.”

“Looks like this year is going to be complicated.”

Chapter Text

The rest of September passed by fairly normal, with Ancient Runes becoming Harry’s favorite lesson, with Defense quickly becoming most of the student body’s favorite subject, though Harry had noticed something… odd, about Professor Lupin, going into October. Along with his boggart being a moon, he was mysteriously missing from the lesson on the day after the full moon. Naturally, he had to share his suspicions with his friends, which he got the chance to do on the weekend in the library.

Sitting down with the rest of his friends, he immediately started. “Okay, has anyone else noticed that Lupin is weird ?”

The first person to respond was Hermione. “Do you mean the boggart and everything else?” She asked, in a hushed tone.

“Yes! We can’t have been the only ones, right?”

“Meraviglia, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what mon chéri?”

“Having a conversational non-conversation. Now start over, what’s weird about Lupin?”

“Well first, his boggart was a full moon, which is fucking weird, and then he was absent from class the day after the full moon. He constantly looks ill, avoids the cutlery in the great hall, he has those scars, and he clearly isn’t the best off. He’s obviously a werewolf!” Harry elaborated, voice hushed.

“Huh. Well, if I were you, I’d leave him alive. He’s a good professor which we definitely need after the Lockhart situation.”

“It’s not like I was gonna kill him Nev.” Harry said, faux shocked.

“Well, what were you going to do, mio angelo?”

“...Just interrogate him a little bit.”

As it turned out, his friends thought that doing that without planning was a bad idea, so naturally, they decided they would stay outside the classroom when he confronted Lupin after class.

It was at the end of the next lesson that they had with him that they put the plan into action. As his friends left the room, he asked “Excuse me, sir, I had a question.”

“Oh. Well, feel free to ask Mr. Potter.”

“You are taking the proper precautions, right?”

“Proper precautions? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lupin replied, gathering up the essays the class had handed in that day, and putting them in his briefcase.

“What with your lycanthropy? I’d just like to be certain.”

Sighing as he clicked the clasps on his briefcase shut, Lupin spoke. “I suppose it was inevitable that someone would work it out. If I may, what tipped you off?”

“Your boggart, last week, the scars and your avoidance of specific cutlery sets. Now, those precautions. You are taking them, right? ‘Cuz I’d hate to have to put some silver in you if you go rogue.”

“Perceptive I see. I am, if that eases your concern, though it concerns me that you know how to take down a werewolf. Also, if I may inquire, have you informed anyone?”

“What can I say, I’m a Hunter. Also, just my little group, and they’re good at keeping secrets.” Harry answered with a slight challenge in his tone, seeing if Lupin would accept his faith in his friends.

“It’s good to see you have faith, though it would be good to remember it can be a double-edged blade.” Lupin said tone filled with a hard-to-describe pain.

After that, there wasn’t much that happened until Halloween. More specifically two separate things happened, one which Harry was rather happy with, and one which he was rather annoyed with. He had been spending most of his free time having a look through Helena’s supplies and had decided to stay later than normal, which was a good thing.

“Hey, ‘Lena, what if we used obsidian?” Harry asked, turning to look at Helena, who had stopped looking through her journals and looked pensive.

“An… unconventional choice, though a valid option. Might I ask the reasoning?”

“Well, John Dee had an obsidian mirror, he called it a shew-stone, that he used to channel visions and communicate with angels. He got it from Mexico, where they were apparently used for divination, and linked to Tezcatlipoca who was, in turn, linked with the underworld. So my thinking is, we’re already tryna do the impossible, so why not use something as tenuous as what we’re doing?”

“The linking is tenuous, yes, but it is strong enough that it could work. The tenuous nature would likely strengthe-” Helena paused before she could finish her sentence, head cocked to the side. “It appears that we are incapable of having a primary task occur without having an interruption. There has been an incident with your tower’s guardian, Caterina. Follow me, if you would, to the Great Hall.”

As they were making their way to the Great Hall, they continued conversing.

“Who’s Caterina?”

“The resident of Gryffindor Tower’s Guardian Portrait. She has been Named The Fat Lady, but that is not who she is. She was chosen, as she was an accomplished hemoturge and, as a consequence, had some rather complex defenses laid into her portrait’s frame. She is more ghost than paint in nature, which allows a greater degree of free will that is useful for a Guardian.”

“Huh. The more ya know.”

After a little while longer they made it to the Great Hall, Harry making a headline to his friends.

“Okay, what happened?”

“Oh, Caterina’s base canvas was attacked.” Luna replied.

“Wait, how did you- y’know what? Never mind. Anyone know who did the attacking?”

“Sirius Black, but more importantly, where on Earth have you been Harry?” Hermione demanded, “I’ve been worried sick!”

“He was obviously busy with something pneumaturgic if his accompanying Helena is anything to go by.”

“Blaise is right, I was figuring out what material would work best for a talisman,” Harry confirmed as he dragged a collection of sleeping bags to a corner of the Hall, and pulled out some chalk.

“Ya reckon Black is still in the castle?”

From where he was drawing a set of lines and patterns, as well as a runic sequence, Harry spoke up. “Oh hell no Nev. He would have gotten out as soon as he could. I will need to find Caterina tomorrow, ask her how her portrait is. Also before anyone asks what I'm doing, they're some simple wards”

“Who’s Catarina? Luna also mentioned someone by that name.”

“Real name for the Fat Lady, got some unique spells on her portrait, I wanna make sure those are still working.”

Whilst everyone else was sleeping, Harry was trying to think of a way to deal with this whole Black situation as soon as possible, and he was thinking it would involve a certain set of twins.

Chapter Text

As Harry would later find out, most of the school was endlessly occupied by gossiping about how Black had gotten into the castle, though he would only learn about the insane rumors later, as he had a few tasks he needed to complete. The first of which he was rather busy with: Finding Caterina.

As it turned out, finding a painted lady in a castle filled with other portraits was quite a difficult task, especially seeing as he had no lead to go off of, and it seemed almost none of the other paintings knew who she was until he mentioned the Fat Lady. As it turned out, there was a reason why she was so hard to find. She had been periodically migrating from painting to painting, which he found out as he found her as she was about to move to a different one until he spoke out.

“Caterina!”

“Mr. Potter? Where did you learn that name?”

“Helena said you had been attacked, but used your name instead of what you’ve been Named. That’s besides the point, however. I was wondering if your frame’s defenses were still in tact?”

“Oh, it’s good to hear Helena has an associate. They are intact, though they are weaker without my canvas attached to the frame, thus they are having to repair the canvas. Is there anything else you wished to ask me?”

“Yes, one other thing. I was wondering if you describe how Black acted? Emotions can cloud the mind, so with some time between the event, and a clear mind, I was wondering if anything stands out?”

At his request, Caterina tilted her head and hummed.“I suppose you’re right, emotions can cloud how one interprets. Now that I think on it, there was something that stood out. He seemed less murderously angry than… vengeful.”

“Well, that’s… interesting, to say the least. Thank you for your help, Caterina.”

Murderously vengeful and not angry was an interesting distinction to make, interesting enough for Harry to make a note of it on a spare piece of paper, discarding it in his satchel for now, as he went on to trying to complete the other task he had for the day. Hunting down the Weasley Twins, and cashing in those favors he got last year.

As it turned out, the Twins were even harder to find than Caterina was, especially seeing as he had no idea where they could usually be found. He checked the Gryffindor Common Room, the Room of the Lost, and even some of the unused rooms in the dungeons, with no sign of them. Eventually, he decided it would be a good idea to check with some of their yearmates to find out where they usually hung around. 

His first instinct was to check with Lee Jordan, but he was just as elusive as the twins were. Naturally, he thought to check with some of the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch, but Angelina and Alicia were clueless about where they could be. Loathe though he was to use any form of authority, he was at the end of his rope.

“Diggory.”

“Oh. Hello Potter. Is there something you needed me for?”

“Yes, actually. As far as I’m aware you’re a prefect, so you probably know at least something about where more… troublesome students tend to loiter, right?”

“Well, I suppose so. I’m sorry, but I’m rather confused as to what you’re asking me.”

“Where do the Weasley Twins usually hang around?”

“Oh, it’s them. There’s no need to be obfuscatory. They’re probably in their lab, but you’ll need the password to get in. I can take you there if you want. They sometimes get me to help them with charmswork.”

“Well then, lead the way handsome.”

As it turned out, he was on the right track when he was searching the dungeons, it’s just that he didn’t go deep enough in his search. Diggory led him through a rather complex set of turns and corridors which eventually led to an unassuming stretch of wall.

“Litis sator.”

“Really, Latin for mischief-maker?”

“They were incredibly insistent that it be mischief-maker.” Diggory replied as they walked through the hole in the wall.

“Harry, Cedric, this is kind of a bad time.” George called out from where he was maintaining a shield speel over a bubbling cauldron. “Cedric, if you could strengthen my shield, and Harry send some sparks into the cauldron.”

As soon as he heard Diggory call out “Amplifico scutum!” Harry sent a bolt of fire into the cauldron, which promptly exploded its contents in its little corner of the room. With that dealt with, George turned around and asked, “Right, what can we do for you?"

“I’m cashing in both favors.”

“Oh, that didn’t take long. What do you need us to do?”

“Oh, it’s not a favor that you need to do. I’m cashing both in ‘cuz I need whatever it is you have that lets you track everyone.”

“Ah. Fred, you reckon it’s time to pass it down?”

“I think so. We’ve only got two years left after this, and we’ve already got the secret passages memorized. You want to do the honors?”

“We present to you, the secret to our success.” George said as he handed Harry a piece of folded parchment. Holding his wand to it he said “I solemnly swear I am up to good.” At which point the parchment started to have ink showing on it. A message read on the paper.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Proudly Present

The Marauder’s Map

“Once you're done looking where you need, tap your wand to it and say ‘Mischief Managed’.”

“Mischief you say? Out of curiosity, how did you guys figure out what the keywords were?”

“Mostly trial and error that was guided by hints from the map.”

“Huh. I wonder. Mischief Managed.” Harry said, before tapping his wand on the map again and saying “Hello there. Who exactly are you?”

Mr Padfoot is wondering why you want to know.

Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Padfoot and would like to say that it’s rather rude to not introduce yourself

Mr Moony concurs with Mr Prongs and wishes to know how you have figured out the interaction method

Mr Wormtail would like to add that is interesting that you have acquired this map

With his wand still on the map, Harry said “My name is Harry Potter, and I acquired this map, and information about it from a previous owner.”

…Mr Padfoot is wondering if your dad was named James

Mr Prongs thinks Mr Padfoot is unhealthily obsessed with some people's love lives

Ignoring the rest of the text that was appearing on the map, he stuffed it into one of his back pockets, which had easier access than his satchel. “Thanks for returning an heirloom.” he said to the twins.

“An heirloom?” Diggory asked confused.

“Yeah, ‘parently when my folks were attending Hogwarts my dad was a member of a group of four friends, and they like to play pranks on the student body. When I mentioned my name to the map, it asked if my dad was named James, so logical conclusion. Heirloom!”

Chapter Text

Much of November passed by uneventfully, with Harry checking the Marauders Map, though he did notice something… odd . Although the map was a little hard to read properly, what with the amount of people at Hogwarts, he did notice a specific cat consistently leaving the castle at night, and going to the edges of the grounds.

“Hey, ‘Mione, how close an eye do you keep on Crookshanks?”

“Not too close an eye, but I usually know if he’s gone off to hunt. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I got this neat map that lets me see everything going on on the grounds, and your little cat has been sneaking out every night, heading to the edge of the grounds and just sitting there.”

“That’s… concerning. I’ll keep a closer eye on him. I wonder what he’s doing.”

Unfortunately for all involved, Harry was unable to find Black anywhere on the map, no matter how often he checked for him, leading Harry to conclude that he was camping out near Hogwarts but not within the grounds. Deciding to give it a rest going into the winter break, and needing something to keep himself occupied he started throwing himself headlong into research for the talisman he and Helena were working on. The arithmancy for the base shape, and the base material, were ready, but they still needed to figure out the runic sequence, as well as the central sigil, and of course Helena had to conjugate the Latin.

Before he knew it, it was Christmas day, and he had presents to open, as well as gifts to give. At the foot of his bed were gifts from Frank, Hermione, and Neville. Frank had gotten him a new set of lockpicks which, according to his note, could get through low-level wards. Hermione had gotten him a lapidary that focused on the magical uses of different stones, and how to amplify those effects by shaping them, while Neville had sent him a flask that, as long as it had something in it, could refill itself. Accordingly, he sent Frank some rare herbs that Helena had in her stores, though not all of them, Neville received a copy of a rare herbology text, The Arborist’s Art , and Hermione got a copy of his Hunter’s journal since she was part of his site.

It was as he was collecting the gifts he was going to give to Luna and Blaise that he noticed something… odd. Underneath the other items was one last gift addressed to him. It was unsigned, but when he opened it up, he saw a knife and a note, that claimed any cut made by it would be harder to heal than your average knife.

Recognizing the handwriting on the note, he muttered to himself. “Huh, looks like Black sent a present.”

Fixing the sheath to his belt, he left the Tower, heading down to the Great Hall, where he gave Blaise a set of potions journals he copied from Helena’s bookshelves, and gave Luna copies of some of Helena’s notes on her mother’s diadem, seeing as she had mentioned her father was trying to recreate it. In return, Blaise gave him a shrunken self-stirring cauldron, and Luna gave him a collection of enchanted charms for his earrings. As he left, he attached two different ones, which helped with speed and clarity of thoughts.

Keeping with his tradition of not attending the Christmas meal, he headed up to the Room of the Lost, summoned Helena’s chambers, and went back to his notes, where he had been working on the runic sequence for the amulet. 

Taking a tome or three from the shelves as well as his Journal from his satchel, he took a seat at the desk, looking at his notes from the other day. Having looked up the various fingoturgical uses for runic magic, Harry was incredibly glad this particular project was more akin to ritual magic.

“I definitely think I’m on the right track with raidō and īhwaz. Yew trees and death… soul fragments probably fit under that. Journey, sometimes metaphysical, that fits as well.” Taking out his pen, he scrawled another rune on the page. “Jēra- maybe. Year and harvest, could be used to cycle the power in the talisman to keep it active. Definitely sōwilō, same shape as my scar so a sympathetic link.”

As he was leaning back in his chair thinking about what else to include in the runic sequence Helena floated through the door, pausing to look over his shoulder before floating to the section of her shelves that held the ghost-tomes, conversing as she perused them.

“I see you are making headway with the runic sequence. I take it you’ll be including fehu as the activation rune at the beginning?”

“Course I will. On that note, I was thinking of including perþ-. Thoughts?”

“Hm. A rune that has an unknown meaning, thus tying its ritualistic uses to the realm of mysteries and thus inversely tied to the revelation of mysteries. I don’t see why not. That would make-”

“Five of the sixteen runes.”Harry supplied. “Keeping it balanced while still having the sequence work properly is a very welcome challenge. You make any progress on conjugating the Latin?”

“Yes, though not as much as I would have liked. I have been able to conjugate about half of the necessary words, though it is rather… difficult to word it in the necessary manner to fit the sonuturgical rhythm.”

After their little conversation was done they proceeded to work on their respective parts of the amulet. It was quite a pleasant day of working. By the time he decided he ought to finish up and head down to get some food, seeing as it was going to be dinner soon, he had managed to work out another four runes that would work for the sequence. The key was trying to invoke aspects of death like the coldness associated with it, as well as aspects that countered it, the latter being achieved via the use of dagaz, the former via īsaz.

Sitting down at the Ravenclaw table with Blaise and Luna for dinner, he asked both of them a question.

“Either of you have a set of stone cutting tools? I need to shape some obsidian.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t much later that the winter break ended and with it classes began once more. Care of Magical Creatures promised to be as interesting as it was last term, the highlights of which would probably be the hippogriffs and unicorns. Well, highlights for everyone bar Harry, seeing as the unicorns had tried to stab him with their horns. No, he was looking forward to the lesson he was currently headed to.

“Welcome back from the Christmas break everyone! Now, last term we focused on the meanings of the Elder Futhark and how they change when they interplay with each other. That was for the purpose of enchanting, however. For you to have a solid understanding for the project that functions as your exam we also need to cover how to use the Elder Futhark in ritual magic.”

Finally, something that he would be able to answer without hesitation.

“Now, the most important part to determine is what denotes ritualistic or fingoturgical runic magic. Anyone? Yes, Mr. Potter.”

“The way the runes are positioned, and the rune that’s drawn first. Runic magic used for enchanting uses arithmantically determined matrices to construct a schematic and can be layered overtop each other. Ritual runic magic is sequential, with each symbol selected being placed after each other to form a symbolic poem, all of which begins with fehu as a catalyst.”

“Whilst you have answered the second question I had planned on asking rather adequately, could you elaborate on why fehu is used as the catalystic rune?”

“Of course. Fehu is the beginning of the Futhark, thus symbolically can be seen as representing a beginning of magic. In terms of how it’s translated, it’s usually translated to mean money or cattle. Given it’s symbolic of a beginning, it can be used as being representative of an empowering sacrifice much like how some rituals demand the sacrifice of an animal, and some complex wards require the sacrifice of something valuable.”

“Fantastic Mr. Potter! Take ten points for Gryffindor. Now, if you could all take out your copies of Spellman’s Syllabary, today you’ll be constructing a runic sequence for a simple summoning ritual for either a ghost in the castle or a low-level elemental, such as a Paracelsian Gnome. The best-constructed sequence will be tested at the end of the lesson.”

The rest of the class passed in a peaceful silence, with everyone working on a runic sequence. Harry was making one to summon Sir Nicholas, while Hermione and Blaise were making sequences to summon some form of elemental. By the end of the lesson Professor Babbling was impressed enough with all three of their circles that she'd decided to test all three, with the only one that didn’t work being Blaise’s as he had accidentally added in a rune that was associated with warmth when he had been attempting to summon Tsurara onna, the icicle woman of Japanese folklore.

Beyond delving into the ritualistic uses of runic magic in Ancient Runes, the new term passed by fairly normally for the first week. That normalcy was broken the night after the Gryffindor Ravenclaw Quidditch match. They happened to have won and, in celebration, threw a party which Harry avoided by staying in his dorm, checking the Marauders Map, and reading a book on elementally aligned beings, taking notes in his Journal on his knee.

Eventually, the party wound down and everyone went to bed, including Harry himself. He had only managed to get an hour or so of sleep before the noise of the dorm door opening woke him up, light sleeper that he was. Seeing as he still had the Map with him he took a look at it. The only change to what he saw on the map was that there was a sixth name on the map now. Padfoot.

It was as he was taking his Cloak out from under his pillow where he kept it when he was sleeping that he heard Ron start yelling bloody murder. The commotion it caused was just enough that he was able to sneak out of his bed, invisible, without anyone noticing a difference. Grabbing his satchel quickly before running after the name on the map, which was going awfully fast, he headed after the intruder.

He was able to keep up with the trail of footprints until he was on the fifth floor when he saw the name vanish off the edge of the map.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, eyes closed, facing the ground. It was as he opened his eyes that he saw something. Tracks.

“Ha! Course an escaped convict would be dirty enough to leave tracks. Though, those are dog prints. Animagus?” Harry muttered under his breath as he started following them before the húsvættir could clean them up. They led him all the way to a blank wall. Knowing that nothing was ever really what it seemed in the castle, he took a look at the map, which showed a speech bubble above him saying “Pactum” which, upon saying it aloud, caused a portion of the wall to open up.

“Clever Black, very clever.” Harry muttered as he continued following the pawprints. “Now, let’s see how you keep getting in the castle.”

Following the pawprints, as well as the passageway led him to an alcove just behind the greenhouses. Looking down, he saw that there were still pawprints to follow in the ground. Doing so took a while, seeing as he had to determine what was a pawprint and what was regular dirt, but it eventually led him to the Whomping Willow of all things.

“How are you using a tree to get in the castle?” Noticing what seemed to be a hole at the bottom of the tree, he amended his statement. “Or, how do you get in the passage?”

Heading back into the castle, he decided that was something to figure out later. He might try and find out when it was planted, that might help him figure it out.

Chapter Text

The day after Black broke into the tower a lot of things changed. The replacement portrait, Sir Cadogan, was moved with Caterina making a reappearance, and with her came her portrait's protective charms, which Harry was incredibly glad for. Various other means of protection could be seen, like Flitwick teaching the front doors to be able to recognize Black, no matter how useless Harry knew it would be.  As it turned out, the reason Black had gotten in was because one of their roommates, Andrew Clevely, had a list of the week's passwords that had vanished.

Practically overnight Ron became one of the most popular students in their year. It wasn’t like he was unpopular, he was pretty friendly, and a damn good chess player which Harry had learned when he challenged him to a game, but his popularity skyrocketed. Given that it was Weasley who had seen the event firsthand, Harry decided to find out what happened straight from the source.

“Hello, Ron.”

“Hi Harry! You wanna hear about Black?”

“Yes, actually. If you could, please be as concise as possible.”

“Sure. So, I was asleep, and then I hear this ripping noise, right, and I think it’s part of the dream, but then I feel this cold draft on my skin which wakes me up. I rolled over onto my side and open my eyes, only to see that one of the curtains was completely ripped off. In front of where it used to be was Black. He looked all skeleton-like, had filthy matted hair, and a massive knife, must’ve been twelve inches! I looked at him, he looks at me, then I just started screaming and he scarpered.”

Finishing writing down his account below where he had Caterina’s account, he closed his notebook. “Thank you, Ron. Now, I’m sure it was rather unpleasant having to recount so, you wanna beat my ass in chess again?”

After doing his investigation, and being completely thrashed by Ron at chess, he got to an empty classroom, pulled out his cell and dialed Hermione’s number.

“Hey, ‘Mione, there anyone else around you?”

“Besides Blaise, no. Is this important, because we’re working on our year-end projects?” Her voice came out, crackly and slightly distorted.

“I can tell.” He replied dryly. “Okay, I’m gonna call back in a bit, gotta check if Luna is with Nev. Call back in like… five.”

Hanging up, he dialed Neville’s phone.

“Hey, Nev, Luna with you?”

“Yeah. Apparently, I have the ‘right aura’ for attracting Whimpersnicks, whatever those are.”

“Okay, so you’re definitely by yourself with her. I’m gonna call back, make sure you’re on speaker.”

Calling them all back as a group call, he spoke up. “Okay, everyone make sure you’re on speaker. So, seeing as Black will be an issue to my current project, seeing as he keeps interrupting, I decided to do some investigation. Based off of Caterina and Ron’s statements, he’s prone to flee when confronted, but that isn’t as relevant as what I found out when he attacked. I heard the dorm door open, so naturally I took the chance the ensuing chaos provided to try and catch him. Well, catch Padfoot based of the Map, but given there were dirty paw prints that led to a secret passage and then to the Whomping Willow, I’ve got two conclusions.”

“The first, Black’s probably an animagus, which might be how he escaped the dementors in Azkaban, and how he’s managing to circumvent the school’s wards. Two, there’s an odd hole that’s at the bottom of the Whomping Willow, and I think it’s how he’s getting onto the grounds.”

In the same crackly manner as Hermione’s voice, Blaise spoke. “Well, prezioso, do you know how to access it?”

“That, I haven’t, unfortunately. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to summon Helena.”

Ending the call, he dug out his offering bowl, chalk and the necessary herbs, as well as his athame. Given he already had some practice with this specific ritual and its simplicity, it took less than five minutes for him to summon Helena.

“I do believe I have mentioned that this is rather dramatic. I take it you have summoned me for matters pertaining to the amulet?”

“Yeperoonie. I’ve got the final sequence. You done with your sections?”

“With me then.” She said, floating out of the room. As they headed to her rooms, she continued the conversation. “Now, I take it you have prepared some obsidian in the form of a circle in preparation, correct?”

“Yeah. It took forever, and there was a specific style that I had to use according to the Lapidary ‘Mione got me.”

As they arrived in her rooms, she spoke. “Excellent. There are enchanted chisels in the tool rack, the full aspect of my work for the design is on the desk.”

What proceeded was quite possibly the most time-consuming, sweat-breaking, meticulous task Harry had ever undertaken in his life. Also the task with the most tiny nicks on his hands. As it turned out, chiseling obsidian leads to great pain. Sometimes, he would be convinced he had gone insane, because who on Earth would actually do this if they were sane, but then he remembered that he was quite possibly a phylactery, making him continue with vigor.

It took about four and a half hours, but eventually, he had finished carving the lines, and the lead he had cast in the lines was solidified. “Hey, ‘Lena, the medallion’s done!”

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you could collect the yew wood staff with the grip of braided thestral hair and some chalk, we shall have to set up the same circle as the first ritual, with some alterations.”

Bringing the three items, he set the staff and medallion down and got to work with marking the circle, stopping when he got to the Latin section of the circle.

“Now, I’m guessing I’ve gotta set the medallion down in the circle before continuing?” Getting a nod, he asked a question as he carefully set the medallion down in the center. “Why’re we usin’ a staff?”

As he chanted and wrote, Helena explained. “There are two primary differences. The first is that we lack Miss Lovegood, thus you must act as the anchor, and unlike the first ritual, you are not acting as the focus of the ritual thus requiring a focus by which to guide the magic properly. Once we have begun, it will be rather intuitive what to do.”

As it turned out, she was right. Picking up the staff, he positioned himself at the point the end of the ankh pointed at, raised it up, and slammed it onto the ground, twisting it counterclockwise as he began to chant. In a trance-like state he moved clockwise around the circle, the staff pointed at the Latin on the floor but held at an angle. At each of the relative cardinals, he once again slammed the staff on the ground, twisting it as he did so. Coming to a stop where he began, he slammed the staff one final time, doing so as he ended the chant.

“Well, I do believe we have succeeded. Feel free to keep the staff if you wish, they are rather useful for ritual magic.”

Walking to the amulet, Harry picked it up and felt a thrum of energy run through him.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He said as he lowered it over his neck.

Chapter Text

The moment the amulet settled on his chest, just to the left of being over his heart, Harry immediately felt where his scar was. Not just having the knowledge of it, but a constant, dull, thudding awareness of it as well.

“Well, it probably doesn’t bode well that I can feel my scar, does it?”

“I would be inclined to say that it would not. Unfortunately, I will be unable to guide you from here on in, as I have never experienced such a phenomenon.”

Deciding to try and do to his scar what he did to the diary, Harry reached his hand up and started pushing at his scar. Where once he may have met resistance and solidity, with the help of the talisman it was as though his hand were gliding through water. As his hand fully entered through his scar, he fell to his knees, his mind overcome by searing pain. But underneath that pain, underneath that agony, he could feel… something.

He could feel anger and loneliness, mania and panic, desperation and fear. So. Much . Fear. But there was something else below those feelings. A more physical sensation. The feeling of a tapestry, cruelly beautiful, torn apart by its maker over and over, never having been rewoven. Frayed knots and untwisting threads. A vibrant gown come apart at the seams so many times that reweaving it would do more harm than good. Except, this torn fragment had been darned. It had been sewn, torn and damaged, to a new tapestry, a bright one, a bold one, one where its frayed and worn nature was dissonant, and damaging to the piece so that its frayed edges might yet remain safe from becoming unraveled.

That feeling of brokenness was the last conscious thought he had for the next half an hour, before coming to, surrounded by his friends, on the floor of the ritual chamber in Helena’s rooms.

“Uh, hey y’all. What happened?”

“While you were busy performing untested soul magic, you apparently fell to your knees, before fully collapsing and convulsing ever so slightly. Helena fetched us, in case we could help. Caro mio, what exactly was that amulet supposed to do?”

“Well, I s’pose I oughta be fully honest with ya’ll. Well, excluding Luna, she kinda helped kickstart this whole… thing. So, before the start of last year, in Diagon, Luna walked up to me and told me a ghost was stalking me.”

“Oh hey, I remember that. You asked me who she was.”

“Correct Nev. Now, I’d already been planning on doing some kind of testing on my weird soul powers, but Lue’s comment made me realize it was probably more urgent than I’d thought. You guys might remember that ‘Lena wanted to talk to me alone after the ritual you guys helped with. Well, long story short, she thought my scar might be a similar thing to the diary.”

“And that ties into the talisman you were wearing how, exactly?”

“Well, ‘Mione, the amulet I was wearing was one ‘Lena and I’d been working on since the last ritual happened. It allowed me to do to my scar what I did to the diary, reach into it. And ‘Lena?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“You were right. Sort of. The diary felt torn and sealed in place, the one in my scar feels like it was really shittily sewn on top of me. Please tell me you know how to deal with this.” He pleaded.

“Unfortunately I do not. There are scant few records on the possible esoteric consequences of making more than one phylactery via the Grecian corruption. There are no known accounts of a living being that has become a phylactery, whether accidental or not.”

“Okay, do you know any way to deal with non-living phylacteries?”

“There is, of course, irrevocably damaging the vessel that holds the soul, or in our circumstances soul shard. There is a ritual, however. One that would expunge the aberration whilst allowing the vessel to remain undamaged, though it comes at a steep price.”

“Which is?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

“Sacrificing the self.”

“Okay, I refuse to accept that I’m gonna be stuck like this for the rest of my life. Blaise, mon amour, during the break could you check your library? Same for you Neville. Hermione, could you try and maths one up for me? I’ll be trying to figure out if there’s anything I can do with runes to deal with this, as well as checking the Restricted Section.”

As soon as they had all agreed to help him figure out how to solve the issue of having a shard of your parents’ murderer stuck on your soul, he immediately set off to the Restricted Section, Cloak already pulled over himself.

He would solve this, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, the Restricted Section had nothing that was helpful. Hermione tried to figure out the arithmancy for a ritual, but it was rather difficult to formulate the math without having access to the original ritual that caused what she was trying to reverse. Unfortunately, Luna couldn’t think of anything out of the box that might work, and Neville and Blaise didn’t have access to their families’ libraries in the castle.

Try as he might, Harry also couldn’t manage to get a runic sequence that would work. He tried literally everything he could think of, even straying from his usual Elder Futhark, branching into Hieroglyphics and Etruscan signs, yet any string he attempted utterly failed to even have a beginning surge of magic. He would have been despondent if it weren’t for the fact that they had reached the exam season by the time his last runic sequence had been tested, so the time he would have spent on brooding was spent on studying and working on his project for Ancient Runes.

Professor Babbling was rather impressed by the project he had presented. He had successfully managed to decipher the schematic around the rim of the Foe-glass he had bought and managed to successfully alter it to apply a similar effect to his glasses, allowing him to gain a glimpse at the faces of relevant enemies.

Most of the exams were easy, it wasn’t as though he had any trouble casting the spells required. He had some trouble with the practical part of the Care of Magical Creatures exam, seeing as it was a toss-up on whether or not a creature would try and kill him. Unfortunately, they had to try and gain a hippogriff’s trust, which naturally meant he was destined to fail the practical part. He enjoyed the obstacle course that Lupin had set up, but he could have done without the trauma reminder at the end with the boggart.

It was as he was relaxing with Hermione and Luna after having finished his Defense Against the Dark Arts exam that he saw a face in his glasses, one he didn’t recognize but that he knew was from his enchantments on the rim.

Pulling out the Map and looking at it he noticed something odd. Crookshanks running along the grounds, in the direction of the Whompin Willow, but there was something odd. He was superimposed over the name Wormtail.

Getting up, he said, “Guys, we need to head to the Whompi-”

He was cut off before he continue, however, as Blaise came round the corner and spoke. “Mio angelo, I think Trelawney might have made a prediction.”

“Gonna have to wait, Blaise, we need to head to the Whomping Willow, now.”

As they half ran, half walked over to the Willow, Harry was peppered with questions by everyone else. Yes, he was certain they needed to go to the death tree. Yes, it was because Crookshanks was being suspicious. As they made their way over, Blaise managed to get out that Trelawney had seemingly gone into a trance and spouted something about ‘the Dark Lord’s servant’ returning to him tonight to help him rise to power,

They managed to get to the tree just as they saw Crookshanks lift his paw off a specific knot in the tree, causing it to stop moving. Aiming his wand at the lump, Harry shot a Knockback Jinx at the sturdy tree, making sure it would remain immobile.

“Okay, hurry, we probably don’t have much time.” Harry said, heading in first, looking back to make sure that his friends had followed. It was a rather long tunnel that they went down, which left Harry enough time to feel vindicated that he was right about the passageway before they came upon a ramshackle house that was little more than ruins on the inside.

Kneeling down to use the lockpicks Frank had gotten him on the door, just to be certain, he heard a male voice speaking to who was presumably Crookshanks. Gently pushing the door open, he disarmed Black of his knife, catching it as it flew to him.

“Mr. Black, why have you enlisted Crookshanks in kidnapping what looks to be my roommate’s pet?” he said, pausing, as he saw an image of Scabbers superimposed over the face he had seen earlier. “Or, maybe that isn't Ron’s pet.”

“Harry! Wait, why aren’t you trying to get a teacher? Aren’t you scared?”

“Well, that would be down to two things. One, I managed to kill a troll at age thirteen, two I don’t think you’re guilty. Also, the teacher’s are useless.”

“Wait, you think I’m innocent?”

“Mm. No, I said I don’t think you’re guilty, not that you’re innocent. There is a difference. Now, before we continue, we should probably deal with that.” Harry said, walking over to Crookshanks, managing to pry what he was fairly certain was Scabbers out of his mouth before stunning him.

“Now, let’s start from the beginning. What exactly happened that led to you being imprisoned?”

“Oh, straight to the point I see. Um, well, your parents were told to go into hiding by Professor Dumbledore, I don’t know why, but he cast a charm on the house they were living in, the Fidelius Charm, and-”

“The Fidelius Charm. What exactly does it do?”

“Oh, it completely hides something no matter what, by hiding the information in a person called a Secret Keeper. It’s really powerful and hard to cast magic but it does have a flaw. You can’t have any other wards, you need to have complete faith in your Secret Keeper, and other wards mess with that. Anyway, your parents let Professor Dumbledore cast the Charm on their house, and they chose me as Secret Keeper. Then I fucked up . A few weeks after the spell was cast, I suggested that they change the Secret Keeper to Pettigrew .” He spat the last word out.

“Now, I take it that Pettigrew would be Peter?”

“Yes. That was the second worst mistake I’ve ever made. They swapped from me to Peter, but none of us ever said anything. I was the obvious choice, I was meant to be a diversion. But it was all my fault. Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James, sold them out to Voldemort. I got to the house as Hagrid was collecting you for Dumbledore. I let him take you.” He said the last part in an almost whisper-like tone.

“I went after Peter, managed to track down where he had apparated to, but he was sneakier than I had thought. He was yelling about how I had sold out two of the three people I would die for. He cut off his finger and cast a Blasting Curse at the ground, turning into a rat to sneak away.”

“So, an unregistered animagus, who apparently faked his death and left a finger, a common brown garden rat, who is missing a digit on a paw, all wrapped up in a story that contradicts the popular narrative. Tell me, Mr. Black, did anyone ever refer to Mr. Pettigrew as Wormtail?”

“Y-yes. Where did you hear that name? We never used our codenames around anyone who wasn’t a Marauder.”

“Neat map that y’all made. Now, we can’t just take your word, you got any proof, or method of proving what you’re claiming.”

“Wait, you have the map? No, no Sirius, focus on the now, then you can kill the rat. “ He muttered to himself, not noticing the looks he was getting from everyone else. “There’s a… there’s a spell, it can, well, force an animagus back into their human form. If you let me use one your wands I’ll be able to turn him back.”

“Mr. Black.” Hermione spoke up “To be quite blunt, you’re an escaped convict , though seeing as what you told us should have been revealed via a trial the convict part is doubtful, if you think we’re going to give you a wand, you mustn’t think us very intelligent.”

“But… how else will I prove I’m innocent?” Sirius asked, face crestfallen.

“Black, idiota, we’ve wands. You can just tell us the spell.” Blaise retorted.

“Oh, I… forgot about that. Azkaban… it’s not been kind. The, uh, the spell is Reverti ad Hominem the… the wand movement is… Harry, could I, could I have my knife back? Just to scratch the movement into the wood, I’ll give it back right after I’m done.”

The pattern of lines that he carved into the wall was a complex combination of swirls and straight lines. It was also devilishly hard to cast, but Sirius volunteered to be target practice for them, turning into what looked like a Church Grim. The first successful cast of the spell was two and a half hours into trying, and was, shockingly, cast by Luna.

“Well, that’s… a surprise. Let’s just…” Harry said as he stunned Scabbers again, just to be certain he wouldn’t wake up. “Luna, go ahead if you would.”

As Luna’s spell hit him, a flurry of lights and movement revealed an overweight, balding man.

Chapter Text

“Well, I suppose you were telling the truth Sirius.” Harry said, looking at the man with disdain. “Or, I suppose, it looks like you were telling the truth that Scabbers wasn’t just Scabbers.”

“I am so glad I’m not a Gryffindor.” Blaise commented “Having a grown man sleeping in the same bed as a child .”

Harry set down his satchel, pulling a length of rope out of it, pulling a chair up and kneeling down, taking his silver knife out of his boot sheath to carve some strengthening runes on it before pulling who was probably Pettigrew on the chair and tying him to it, as well as tying his hands behind his back and to the chair.

“Well, let’s wake him up.” Harry sighed, before casting the Reviving Spell on him.

“S- sirius, my old frien-”

“Cut the crap, Peter.” Sirius began. “We’ve been having a… chat about what happened all those years ago. What happened the night you took everything from me!”

Casting his head around, he locked eyes with Harry, uttering “Y- you don’t believe him do you, Harry? He’s insane! He tried to kil-”

Harry cut him off. “Uh, uh, uh. This is where we be quite, Mr. Pettigrew. Your very existence as a  corporeal being throws into question the entire narrative about the night my parents were murdered. For instance, if Sirius is guilty why have you been hiding for the past fifteen years?"

“Because I was afraid for my life! I knew he was going to come back to try and kill me!”

“ Interesting . Two things. First, why did you, without founding, suspect that Sirius would be able to escape from an, at the time, impenetrable prison? Second, who exactly do you mean by he ? Is it really Sirius or, perhaps, Voldemort?”

Seeing Pettigrew flinch, Sirius spoke out, voice filled with venom and loathing. “Can’t stand to hear your master’s name, can you Peter? You want to know who I think you were hiding from?”

Not caring if Peter responded, he continued. “I think you were hiding from Voldemort’s followers. I… heard things while I was in Azkaban, had a room next to dear cousin Bellatrix, and… the things I heard them planning on doing if they heard you were alive. I mean, it’s no wonder that they would want to kill you. Double-crossed once, they think you double-crossed again. Dark Lord goes to the Potters, Dark Lord dies.”

Standing up from where she had sat, Hermione spoke.”The only thing I can’t figure out is why he hasn’t attacked Harry. Ronald shares a dorm with him. Why not try and kill him?”

Ignoring Pettigrew, Luna answered, while plaiting Harry’s hair. “It’s very obvious Hermione. Voldemort isn’t gaining power, so why risk Dumbledore? Also, according to Dad, Voldemort staked a claim on him.”

“We’re done with this. Harry, please give me my knife so that I can kill this traitor.”

As soon as Sirius said that, Pettigrew immediately started groveling, trying to convince everyone to save him. Not putting up with it, Harry stunned Peter again. “Okay, much as I’d love to kill the fuckin’ creep that slept in the same room as five teenagers , we probably shouldn’t.”

“Harry, he’s the reason you don’t have any parents, why shouldn’t we kill him?”

“Hermione would probably argue something about ethics but if you want to be acquitted of all charges, you need him alive and able to be interrogated.”

“The Ministry probably has necromancers in the DOM! We can just kill him, then revive him.”

“Then you’ll just be arrested for murder. Sirius, no matter how ya slice it, it isn’t a good idea to kill him.”

“Okay, you might be right about that, but can we just… cut him? Just a little?”

“Then you’d be arrested for assault. Or torture. Like it or not, we need him as he is now if you want to be acquitted.”

Though he tried to argue for inflicting some form of pain on Pettigrew for a little while longer Sirius eventually conceded that it would be in his best interests to leave the rat unharmed, so he couldn’t be returned to Azkaban on a different charge. It took a little while to figure out how to escort a convict and a dead person up to the castle, they eventually decided to tie Pettigrew up, binding his hands together, with his arms tied to his side, levitating him behind Sirius, but in front of Hermione.

As they were walking back through the tunnel Sirius asked Harry a question.

“Would you… maybe consider living with me? I’ve got a house, it’d need to… be cleared out first… to be livable, but it is there. So… what d’ya think?”

After some thought, Harry answered him. “Well, it’s definitely a nice offer, but I’d rather you extend the offer after you’ve seen a therapist.” He might not have known Sirius very long, but that didn’t mean they weren’t family of a sort and if there was one thing he didn’t want for anyone he knew it was being consumed by grief and trauma. He had seen how some of the Hunters back at the Moon had gotten and it was… not pretty, to say the least.

Things had been going rather smoothly, which should have been his first clue that something was bound to go wrong. Nothing ever went this well for Harry, not without a sudden pivot to Danger Zone. Everything started going wrong when Pettigrew started coming to from the Stunner he shot at him earlier and turned into his rat form, prompting them all to run after him.

That’s when the chill came.

Chapter Text

As a general rule of thumb, Harry never expected things to go his way. However, he never quite expected everything to go quite so tits up. Now not only were his friends hunting down a rat, or at the very least trying to, he was trying to hunt down a dog. This was all compounded by the fact that there were depression monsters that could eat your soul hunting for the same dog as him.

He had last seen that Sirius was headed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Giving into his “Saving-People-Thing”, as Hermione called it, he told them to chase after Pettigrew while he headed after Sirius. Running in the direction of the Forest, he pulled his staff and flashlight out of his satchel as he went, flicking the torch on so he could see where he was going. 

The unfortunate part about Sirius having run off into the Forest was exactly that. It was a forest, thus making it rather hard to track him accurately. There were points in the tracks that made it easier, given that he temporarily turned back into a human. Another unfortunate aspect of trying to find Sirius was the presence of dementors. It was rather hard to track someone when your brain was semi-consumed by thoughts of trauma and despair, but onward he pushed.

The tracks finally led him to the edge of a lake, where he saw Sirius sitting at the shore, curled in on himself, rocking slightly. Walking up near where Sirius was, Harry stopped short of being behind him and planted his staff in the ground before kneeling down and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Sirius, Sirius we need to go now .”

Looking up at Harry, a distant look in his eyes, Sirius replied. “J-james? Is that you?”

“Dad isn’t here right now Pads, but I can take you to him if you follow me . ”

As Sirius opened his mouth to respond to Harry he suddenly closed his eyes and started whimpering as if he were in pain which would have been odd, if not for the sudden, very slight but just noticeable chill that had entered the atmosphere.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck .” Harry muttered under his breath, digging through his bag and taking out a cloth bag of salt that he had as a just in case. Throwing it in the air, he set the cloth on fire before incanting “Circulare duo” to send the rock salt into two circles around the duo, before using a series of severing charms to carve some runes in the ground to amplify the repellant power of the salt, hoping and praying that dementors were similar enough to demons that it would work.

As the feelings of despair and bone-deep anguish intensified, Harry saw a swarm of dementors flying out of the forest, heading in their direction, which was, in Harry’s opinion, a good reason for his ever so slightly panicked state.

“Fuck, this is bad .” Harry muttered, rifling through his satchel and digging out various ingredients before gouging a hole in the ground using his staff. “Okay, grave dirt, agrimony and asafetida, basil and bay, belladonna and clover.” He muttered hurriedly under his breath as he dumped the ingredients in the hole he had made before pulling his athame out of its sheath and slitting his palm to pour blood on the ingredients.

As soon as he had the ingredients prepared, he set them on fire and positioned himself so that he was facing the oncoming dementors grabbed hold of his staff, and began chanting. Prior experience had shown that dementors could be killed by exorcising them, but that had only been the first part of the Rituale Romanum and, at most, two dementors.

With the ritual elements that he added, the effects of the exorcism were amplified, and the effect was palpable as soon as the dementors were close enough to hear it. He had reached the second section of the rite when it happened. As he began chanting the second section of the rite, the dementors began to slow in their advance, coming to a stop.

As he advanced through the rite, energy flagging, he (and anyone else who would have been awake) heard a sound no mortal should ever be cursed to hear. The death rattle of hundreds of dementors. It was slow to start, barely more than a haunting breeze, but it built quickly. It sounded like the howl of a hurricane but tainted by the roar of a tsunami. The cracking of permafrost and the groan of tectonic plates.

As Harry was reaching the end of the third section of the rite, the dementors began to flare and disintegrate one by one, until none were left, their ashes covering the now-frozen lake. Even though he felt like he was about to pass out, he knew he couldn’t leave Sirius out in the open, not if he wanted the man to be freed eventually so it was that, with great effort, he dragged Sirius into the Forest and covered him with the Cloak before promptly passing out a few steps away.

Chapter Text

The last thing Harry remembered was dealing with the dementors that were trying to kill him, hiding and then passing out. The next time he was conscious he was fairly certain he was in the Hospital Wing with how stiff the sheets were and, if the raised voices were anything to go by, his actions that night had not gone unnoticed.

Keeping his eyes closed, he listened as a rather nervous and harried voice yelled. “What do you mean they’re all gone? The dementors wouldn’t just leave!”

“I am afraid that it seems they have, Cornelius. Earlier this evening the castle’s wards alerted me to the entrance of all the dementors positioned around the school and half an hour later, their mass disappearance.”

If he was being quite honest, it had felt a lot longer to Harry.

“Well, surely one of the children will know what happened. We’ll just have to question them.”

Groaning under his breath, Harry opened his eyes and, upon realizing everything was blurry, turned to the side table next to the bed he was in and put on his glasses, seeing Madam Pomfrey walking over with a massive boulder of chocolate and a hammer and chisel.

“Ah, you’re awake.” She said promptly, putting the chocolate on his side table and going at it with the hammer and chisel, breaking it up into smaller pieces.

“How are my friends?”

“They are fine, though they were found unconscious near the castle’s stone circle.”

As she finished explaining and gave Harry and his friends chunks of chocolate the doors to the Wing, which had only been slightly ajar before, burst open, with Dumbledore and this Cornelius fellow walking through.

“You, boy.” Cornelius said, pointing at Harry. “What happened to the dementors?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know who you are. Might you introduce yourself?”

“You don’t know-” He spluttered. “I am Cornelius Fudge! The Minister for Magic!”

“Well Minister, I’m sorry to say but I don’t know what happened. All I remember is passing out.” Harry lied.

“You are lieing !” The Minister hissed at Harry, jabbing him in the chest with his finger.

Pushing the finger to the side, Harry responded “I’d thank you to not cast aspersions on my honor, Minister .”

“Well, what if we questioned you with Veritaserum? Would you still say the same thing?”

“According to the Underage Testimonial Act of 1725 that would be illegal, as you should very well know Minister.” Blaise retorted from his bed, behind the Minister.

Whirling around to face him, Fudge asked “And just who would you be?”

“Blaise Zabini. You might have heard of my mother, Contessa Alessandra Zabini?”

At the utterance of his mother’s name, Fudge paled dramatically, and stormed out of the Hospital Wing, yelling about starting an investigation into how the dementors had vanished and that Dumbledore ought to watch out. As the door slammed shut, Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey, hands clasped together.

“Poppy, I’m afraid I need to talk to Mr. Potter and his compatriots alone.”

“Headmaster, they require reat and treatment!”

“All the same, I must discuss something with them alone. I do not foresee it taking overly long, if that would mollify you.”

Watching on as Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips before striding off into her office at the end of the Wing, Dumbledore rounded on the remaining occupants of the room.

“Now, Mr Potter, your lovely friends have informed me of a certain individual’s innocence. Would I be correct in supposing that he was the cause of the dementors presence on the school grounds?”

“Yeah…” Harry replied, wary about whatever it was that Dumbledore was leading up to.

“I won’t presume to ask the particularities of what happened last night, plausible deniability is necessary sometimes, but would I be correct in supposing that Mr. Black is concealed on the grounds somewhere?”

“Yeah. After the dementors… vanished, let’s say, I managed to get him in the tree line and under my Cloak before I passed out.”

“I do believe it would be best if we managed to sneak him out of the country. Now, I’m fairly certain that I have bought you about… an hour.” Dumbledore continued, checking his pocket watch. “Good luck, Mr. Potter.”

After it was all said and done, and they were back on the Express, Harry had had an… interesting year. Unfortunately for everyone, Snape had “let it slip” (like anyone bought that pathetic excuse) that Lupin was a werewolf, and he’d been forced to resign. The Ravenclaws had started a petition that everyone except for a decent chunk of the Slytherins had signed to try and keep him on, but the Board of Governors claimed he was too dangerous (even though there hadn’t been any incidents).

After Harry had recovered Sirius from where he had been hidden, as well as recovered his Cloak, Dumbledore had successfully smuggled him out of the country by using an unauthorized portkey to send him to a Japanese in-patient therapy clinic that was tailored for magical folk, in the hopes that he would be able to recover from the effects of long term dementor exposure.

Blaise had even extended invites to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him if they were free. Luna had immediately declined, as she and her father were planning on going on an expedition in the Sahara to try and find wild Heliopaths. Harry had said he might be able to go but that it was largely in the air that he’d call later down the line to let him know if he could.

After making their usual plans with each other, Harry headed over to Frank and followed him to his car. As they were strapping themselves Frank noticed that Harry was more… morose than usual.

“Hey ghostie, you alright? Something serious happen at school?”

“Um… a lot happened. I guess the first thing is that it turns out I have piece of Voldemort’s soul in scar…”

With that being the first thing on the list, Frank would consider it a miracle if he managed to avoid a crash.

Chapter Text

Harry hated his life right now. He had been digging through some obscure occult books that he owned, as well as Frank’s collection. Hell, he’d even emailed Bobby, Frank’s American friend, and even ventured into Knockturn Alley to try and find anything on his soul-vessel scar, and he had found nothing . That alone would have been incredibly annoying and enough to consider his life ruined. But it couldn’t be that simple a summer.

He had just been rudely awoken from his sleep because of an absolutely foul dream. Well, it was more like a vision. Of course, the wizard fascist would ruin his sleep schedule. With not much else to do besides try and fall asleep, which he knew wasn’t going to happen, or start his usual routine, Harry chose the latter, but not before sending a message to the group chat he had made with his friends to keep track of and update whatever was happening surrounding the scar situation.

He decided to not text Frank about the matter for the simple fact that he had been meaning to head over to the Moon anyway. Seeing as he had gotten up early, and consequently finished with his morning routine early, he decided to head into London using the subway instead of calling Frank to take him in so, even if it took longer, he still got there at the same time that he usually did, walking in and seeing Frank standing behind the bar like usual.

As Harry sat down at the bar and lay his head on his arms, Frank spoke.

“Hey brat, you look exhausted. Whats wrong?”

“Weird dream-vision thing.”

“Huh. Ya got anything else? Not much to go on with that.”

“Not much else.” Harry grumbled. “It was Voldemort and Pettigrew with some other guy and a massive snake, they were plotting something for this year. Killed some random gardener. Also Voldemort is like… a homunculus now? Looked like one that’s for sure.”

“Huh. That’s… a lot. A homunculus y’say? Wonder how he managed that. Well make sure to let Helena know about- No, Rob, I am not gonna give you pure vodka, it is twelve thirty ! If I see your picks anywhere near my liquor cabinet before four pm, I will shoot you in the foot, ya got that? Good.”

Looking up from where he had been resting his head, Harry looked at Rob, then Frank.“What’s up with Rob? Looks almost as out of it as when he came back from his first Hunt.”

Handing Harry a root beer, Frank answered.“I dunno. He was ramblin’ somethin ’ about a trickster? How it wasn’t actually a trickster? That’s about all I caught.”

“Well, I’m gonna ask.” Harry said as he got up and walked over to the booth that Rob had commandeered. “Hey Rob, what’s so bad that it’s got ya like… this?”

In a muffled voice, head on the table, he responded. “That damn trickster."

Sighing, Harry took a sip of his drink before continuing to needle him.“Dude, if ya tell me what happened I’ll give ya a freebie info order.”

“Fine. So ya know Loki?” Seeing Harry nod, Rob continued. “Well, he usually spends his time in the States, but he occasionally pops over to our side of the pond. I thought it would be easy to get him to move on at the very least . It wasn’t . I tried to kill him six times! It's like he took it like a personal challenge. So, I was sick of him not fucking dying , so I did some researching for an entire week, literally nothing but research , and it’s not a fucken’ trickster.”

“Okay then, what is Loki?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

“Get this, he’s a fucken’ angel !” He laughed a hint of insanity in it. “It gets better . He ain't just any old angel. No, no, he’s the Archangel Gabriel .”

“Y’know what.” Harry started after some consideration. “I would say you’re insane, but half of what I research for money would get me thrown in a psych ward, and angels are hardly out of consideration, so why the hell not? Side note, ya got a summoning rite for him? I think I’ve got a solution for a problem I’ve been having.”

Rob emailed him everything that he would need to perform a summoning rite, but Harry was planning on making his own… alterations to it that would make it more effective. After checking that he had gotten it and the email hadn’t corrupted, Harry went to the restroom to call Blaise.

“Hey mi amor, I’ve got a pretty good lead on fixing the scar problem, so I should be free to go to the Cup with you.”

“Amore, how good a lead is it? You know you have a tendency to… underestimate things.”

“I’m like… ninety-eight percent certain that it’ll deal with the phylactery issue. When’s the Cup again?”

“The eighteenth of August, like I said last month. Is that all tesoro?”

“Oh, could you ask Neville what plants he wants for his birthday?”

“Darling, why can’t you do it? You have a cell phone.”

“I would, but I wanna bother Frank into letting me know who his black market contacts are. I think that’s it.” Tilting his head, Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Kay, love ya, bye!”

Chapter Text

As was tradition, Harry and his friends met up in Diagon Alley to get all their school stuff, though it was earlier than they usually would have gone, what with the Quidditch World Cup happening so soon in the month.

Sitting at Fortescue’s ice cream parlor, Harry spoke up.

“So, I vote getting the clothes done first, but anyone know why ‘dress robes’ is one here?”

“Mm. I noticed that. Apparently there’s something fancy happening at school this year.” Blaise commented as he applied midnight blue polish to his nails.

“Darling, how did you find that out?” Harry asked, picking up his triple chocolate milkshake to take another sip.

“Tesoro, you seem to forget, my mother’s a Contessa, on top of being a member of the Italian High Council. Annoyingly she didn’t tell me what it is that’s happening, just that something is happening.”

“Well, once we’re all done here, let’s head to Madame Malki-”

“Twilfitt and Tattings dear. Malkin is better at general robes, Tattings is where you want to go for anything fancy, and before you say anything about them being a pricey high end store both you and I are rich, either of us could very easily pay for all of our outfits.”

“Well, Twilfitt and Tattings it is then.”

Thinking back on the trip, Twilfitt and Tattings hadn’t been as bad as he thought it would’ve been, but that was mostly down to Blaise, and him actually understanding fashion things.

Walking into the store, Harry looked around and spotted a set of robes with a pattern he thought looked nice, saying as such to Blaise.

“Hmm, the wave pattern would be a nice touch, but that cut and those colors? Definitely not.”

“Mi amor, what’s wrong with the colors? Green like my eyes, blue like the House I almost sorted into.”

“Darling, the color families are fine, but the shades would make you look washed out, they’re a spring palette. With your complexion we’ll want to go for an autumn palette, maybe a nice true autumn.” Blaise looked at Harry contemplatively. “And the cut of those robes is entirely unpractical. We’ll want to get you something that’ll be easier to fight in.”

“Mon coeur, you’ve gotta I have no idea what any of that means.”

“I’m aware dear. Now, I was thinking a nice, dark, licorice purple like this.” Blaise said, reaching for a roll of cloth near the back of the store where he had shepherded Harry. “It’s dark enough to compliment your hair but distinct enough to not be dull. What do you think?”

“I mean, it’s a pretty purple but I get the feeling you have more in mind.”

“Oh, I certainly do, love. Now, what do you think about feldgrau green for the trimming? It compliments your eyes but doesn’t drown out the gorgeous malachite green you have.”

“Aww, you think I have pretty eyes." Harry teased. "But yeah no, I think it looks nice and pairs well with the licorice.”

“So it seems you do have something of an eye for fashion meraviglia. Now, for the collar of the robes, I was thinking of ultraviolet. It’s a touch lighter than the rest of the palette, but it balances them out rather well.” Hearing Harry agree, Blaise told him to look around for a set of robes that he liked the cut of.

Eventually, he decided on a set that, at first glance, was a tunic with coattails and a set of pants that, according to the sales associate was favored by some bards she knew. He decided on that sat because the coattails were actually removable, making it a fairly easy outfit to fight in. The shoes were a pair of dragon leather boots that went just below the knees.

He even got to have the wave pattern he liked on the robes, something about the waves being reminiscent of Harry’s curls and that “tying the look together”. Harry paid for it all and Blaise said he would send one of his mother’s associates to retrieve them before the end of the month, giving the store enough time to tailor them properly.

After that, it was off to stay at Neville’s place and then head off to the World Cup.

Chapter Text

Thankfully for everyone involved, the tickets to the Cup that Contessa Zabini had gotten also happened to be a set of portkeys meaning that they were able to wake up at a reasonable time. Another convenience of the tickets being acquired by Blaise’s mother was that she thought ahead and had sent one of her employees ahead of both herself and Harry’s contingent so that they wouldn’t have to go through the annoyance of setting up a tent.

That didn’t mean they could stroll right on through though.

Standing up from where he had been thrown to the ground, Harry groaned to himself.

“Ughh, I might actually hate portkeys more than I hate side-along.”

“Don’t worry mio angelo you’d hate the Knight Bus more.”

Making sure that everyone was still in one piece (bits got left behind sometimes) they went up to the portkey attendant, giving him their tickets and being told that they would have to go to the first field of tents that they found. According to Blaise, their tent would be… distinctive.

As usual, Blaise had quite the talent for understating things. Whereas most of the tents they had passed by were simple brown or tan ones that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a suburban garage, Blaise’s mother had gotten what looked like a high-end glamping tent. High-end enough that it looked like a miniature castle.

“All right, Mother’s tent is the one that looks like a castle, ours is the one that looks like a manor house.”

“Wait, your mum is just going to let us all stay in the same tent?”

“Why wouldn’t she Hermione? It’s not like we would be… inappropriate in our dealings with each other, especially seeing as it’s a tent. Magic or not, it wouldn’t make for a particularly pleasant first experience.”

“Okay, this convo is boring, who else wants to find whoever’s running the book for the bets?”

It took a surprising amount of time for them to find the bookie for the World Cup, finding him gossiping with the Weasley Twins’ father, and Hermione was rather appalled that the person running the bets for the event was a government employee, and a Department Head at that. Harry managed to convince the Twins to not go all in on their bet and heard about a missing person, one Charity Burbage. Blaise just bet 20 galleons that the Bulgarian seeker was going to catch the snitch.

They weren’t able to stick around for very long to talk to the Twins, seeing as the people in charge had slowly given up on trying to keep signs of magic hidden, meaning that vendors with merchandise were apparating around everywhere, hawking their wares and Neville and Hermione claimed they couldn’t leave without getting some souvenirs.

Blaise bought a Bulgarian scarf for Harry that was charmed to have the lion embroidered on it light up, and he bought Blaise a sweater that was covered in dancing shamrocks in return, both of which were put on shortly after being bought given the uncommonly cold evening. As they were heading to the main stadium, where Blaise’s mother had headed to earlier in the day, Neville bought himself and Hermione each a pair of omnioculars.

When they were seated in the Sky Box, Harry noticed something odd, given the medieval nature of the Wizarding World, or at the very least the British Wizarding World. It was a jumbotron . A chalk-based one sure, but a jumbotron nonetheless.

“Hermione, I just want to make sure I’m not losing it. That is a jumbotron, right?”

“Huh. That… is a jumbotron. Harry, when did wizards learn about jumbotrons?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue. Did anyone pick up a program?”

As it turned out, Neville had made sure to pick up a platform from one of the vendors on their way to the stadium, and the actual match wouldn’t be starting for a while longer, which left them to mostly just make small talk with the other people in the Box with them or, in Harry and Hermione’s cases, reading a book. They only stopped reading their books when Neville and Blaise nudged them to let them know that the mascot performances were about to start.

“So, mi amor, what exactly is gonna happen?” Harry leaned over to ask Blaise.

“Well, it usually entails some form of magical being putting on a performance, sometimes it’s a dance but usually it’s a demonstration of unique magic.”

“So, what are the mascots for Bulgaria?” Hermione asked, having tuned into the conversation.

“I’m not certain actually. Darling, what magical beings are Bulgarian?”

“Well, there are Vila, Domovoy, Kikimora, the Lamia… um, those are humans.”

“Oh, veela! That’s… an interesting decision.”

“Neville, those aren’t Vila.”

“No, you’re right. V ee la, not V i la. They live in sequestered enclaves, only a few from each one are chosen to leave the enclave so there wouldn’t be any non-magic record of their existence.”

As Neville finished his explanation, Harry properly focused on the round hundred veela that had flown on the pitch. They were beautiful, he couldn’t deny that, but inhumanly so, like an alabaster statue chiseled to perfection, they had no flaws. It was rather disconcerting if he was honest. As he was thinking that, the veela began to dance, and Harry decided he was not a fan of whatever they were doing.

As they danced, it was like something was reaching out to him, trying to lull him to blissful peace, telling him that all that mattered was the veela and their dance, that if he didn’t watch them then awful things would come about. He really was rather grateful for the fact he had gotten some tattoos (both magic and mundane)  during the summer, especially the sequence of Etruscan glyphs that warded off mind-altering effects.

Noticing that most of the men in the stadium were leaning closer to the railing as the veela started dancing faster, the referee started herding them off the field, with the announcer for the game, that Bagman fellow from earlier, announcing the mascots for the Irish team which, unfortunately, and entirely stereotypically, were leprechauns, and of course , they come in as a shamrock shaped comet.

“You know, I’m fairly certain a lot of people are going to be upset tomorrow.”

“Why is that, love?”

“Tesoro, you have a decent idea about the amount of bets that have been placed over this, right?” hearing Harry hum in confirmation, Blaise continued. “The coins from the leprechauns aren’t actual galleons. They die after twenty-four hours.”

“Die, mon chéri? How does a coin die?”

“Some people think they just dissipate into ambient magical energy, some people think they’re sentient and die. Now shush, the game's about to start.”

If Harry was being honest with himself (which he wouldn’t when it was about such a silly sport) the game was more enjoyable to watch than he’d thought, even if it was mostly down to the antics of the mascots, who were heckling each other. He also learned that you should never make a veela angry, lest you want to have fireballs thrown at you by humanoid aliens.

As they walked back, they watched as people partied, or sulked if they had been supporting Bulgaria, stopping by at the Weasley tent to check if the Twins had gotten their winnings from Bagman, only to discover they had been given leprechaun gold, and promptly left at the look the Twins had gotten.

It had been a good day, contrary to what Harry had expected, even if it had been too loud and there had been too many people. It was as he lay in the too-soft bed that he had warded earlier that day, toying with the scarf Blaise had bought for him and trying to fall asleep, that the other shoe Harry perpetually thought about dropping, dropped.

That was when he heard the screams.

Chapter Text

In Harry’s personal opinion, he was cursed with bad luck. He had no idea when it could have happened, seeing as he’d never had the best of luck, but perhaps it was generational. That was one of the thoughts going through his head, the other being a lamentation that he couldn’t just have a nice day out with some of his favorite people.

As he heard the first of the screams, he was wide awake again, leaping out of the bed, strapping his sheathed knives back in their usual spots and making sure his wand was holstered before he woke the rest of the tent’s occupants.

“Guys, get up!” He called out, quieter than he might have been, it would have been a needless danger to yell and make themselves targets.

Thankfully, his friends were also rather light sleepers, though they were still rather disoriented at being woken up so soon after they had gone to bed.

“Harry, what’s going-”

“Why did you wake-”

“Why is there screaming?”

Taking a short, but risky, peek out the tent flap, Harry answered them. “There’s some kind of attack going on right now.” Opening the flap a bit, he peeked out again. “Crowd of about… twelve, maybe more. They’ve got what looks like the camp owner and his family levitated in the air, they’re stumbling a bit. They might be drunk.”

Turning back to the rest of their group, he continued. “You guys, head to the forest, it’ll be harder to find you there. I’m gonna use my Cloak and try to, at the very least, stun some of them. It looked like a few Ministry workers were headed to try and deal with them but we all know they aren’t the most competent.”

As he had expected, there was a decent pushback, but it wasn’t from the person he had expected.

“Mio amato, I saw those outfits just now. I don’t care just how drunk a group of Death Eaters are, you aren’t at the same level as they are. Some of them use flaying spells for Mercury’s sake!”

“Darlin’, I’d be using my cloak, they wouldn’t be able to get me.”

“No, Harry. There are too many things that could go wrong with this. What if your cloak gets blown by the wind, what if they use detection charms, what if they hear you? If you’re going so are the rest of us.”

“You'd be in more danger though! None of you have the same training as me though!”

“Philosopher’s Stone. Basilisk. Black. Foolish pneumaturgic endeavors.”

“Fine, mi amor, I’ll go with you.” As they all started running toward the forest, he muttered under his breath. “Goddamn emotional manipulation.”

The forest that surrounded the campsites was a veritable source of chaos, people running every which way, groups huddling up by themselves, one odd group that was flirting with the veela and parents that were trying to comfort their children. Even though he had gone with his friends, Harry did manage to get a stunner off at one of the Death Eaters in all the chaos. They even wound up running into the Weasley Twins, who gave them wishes of good luck and a promise to pass on any information they got from their dad.

Unfortunately for the four of them, their luck wouldn’t hold much longer. They had only just gotten to a small clearing, allowing them a chance to relax when they heard a voice call out “MORSMORDRE!”, before the characteristic crack of apparition. Looking up into the sky, revealed what the spell had done. In the sky floated a spectral, green skull with a snake winding out the mouth and around the skull. It was they heard yet more cracks, a resounding chorus this time, that they looked back around them, noticing about twenty people, all pointing wands their way, just barely managing to all duck before the wizards sent off stunners in their direction.

“Who was it? Which of you cast the the Dark Mark?” A wizard, Harry thought it was that Crouch person they had met at the Weasley’s tent, snapped out, striding forward to them, wand still pointing out.

“None of us you fucking madman!” Harry yelled back, staff now in hand in case he had to beat the raving wizard in a fight.

“Do not LIE! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime! All of you, present your wands for investigation!”

“Like fuck we’re doing that.” Harry snorted. “You haven’t got any probable cause to do that.”

“We very much do!” Crouch insisted. “You are at the scene of the crime! That is cause enough for suspicion!”

“Oh yeah, like a couple teenagers could cast the Dark Mark.” Neville commented.

“Still, we must-” Crouch got out before he was cut off by Blaise.

“Mr. Crouch, disregarding the fact that I have diplomatic immunity as an extension of my mother, Council Woman Zabini, do you really believe that a muggleborn witch, the Boy-Who-Lived, or a member of the Longbottom family would have either the knowledge or the wherewithal to cast the mark of a fascist terrorist?”

At the sight of Crouch’s mouth opening, to spout off yet another ludicrous sentence, Hermione cut him off before he could begin. “Instead of interrogating four teenagers, who aren’t actually directly below said mark, how about you investigate the area actually below the mark, where a man incanted something before disapparating.”

“Stood beneath it eh? Called out an incantation?” Crouch asked eyes narrowed, not noticing some of his personnel heading in the direction of the Mark. “You sure seem to know a lot about how to summon the Dark Mark missy.”

“No, that’s just how wand-based spells work . Perhaps you need a refresher in Magical Theory? I’ve heard Professor Flitwick is willing.”

Just as Crouch was about to start back in on them, one of the wizards from the group that had gone to investigate called out to him. “HEY BOSS, we found something!”

“What is it? What did you find?” Crouch yelled back.

“A wand.” The wizard replied, jogging back to the rest of the Ministry workers with the rest that had split off. “Don’t know whose it is though.”

“Well, which of you does it belong to?” Crouch demanded.

“Wait, isn’t that Ginny’s wand?”

“Neville, why would that be… oh, that is her wand. Why would her wand be anywhere near here?”

“So you are saying you know the culprit!” Crouch exclaimed.

“No, you dumbass, what ‘Mione is saying is that whoever it was that conjured the Mark was using a stolen wand.” Harry answered. “Anyways, Ginny’s a third year, she wouldn’t even know how to disapparate, and the voice we heard was distinctly masculine.”

Crouch’s insistence that one of them had been the one to cast the Dark Mark continued for a little longer before the other wizards with him eventually convinced him to let go of the topic, letting Harry and his friends go back to their tent to try and get whatever amount of rest would be possible after all the chaos of the night before returning home the day after.

Chapter Text

Harry was sitting in his usual compartment on the Hogwarts Express when he was ambushed by his friend group.

“Well meraviglia, now that all of us are here, would you care to explain what you’ve found that might solve your… issues .”

“I might have… well, it’s a bit complicated.”

“Harry, we have an entire train ride to Scotland . Explain. Now.”

“Ugh, why do you have to have a point, Nev? Okay, so I had been looking for different types of rituals that might work, I even went looking for various different grimoires on pneumaturgy in Knockturn. I found… nothing.”

“You’re being rather… vague cacciatorino. Why is that?”

“I can’t just tell the story without the background okay.” Harry grumbled before continuing. “Okay, so, as I was saying, I had been looking everywhere from antique stores to Knockturn Alley, but I didn’t manage to find anything . At least, nothing that would help with my specific circumstances. As it turned out, I wouldn’t actually have to look much longer.”

“So you guys know how it’s mostly Hunters who go to the Moon?” seeing his friends nod, he continued. “Well, Rob finally got back from his latest hunt.”

“He was trying to deal with a trickster, wasn’t he?”

“Uh, technically yes, ‘Mione. Technically as far as it was and was not a trickster. And the plan is to summon said sort-of trickster to deal with the whole scar sitch.”

“Tesoro, exactly which trickster is it that you are planning on summoning?”

“Loki. Also, only technically a trickster.”

“Harry, why on earth do you think it’s a good idea to summon a trickster god? Let alone Loki .”

“Once again ‘Mione, only technically a trickster god.”

“Okay then, what is he if he isn’t really a trickster?”

“Uhh…”

“Oh, Harry can’t say that. Well, he can but it wouldn’t be very wise.”

“Lue, what do you think Loki is?”

“Oh, I haven’t a clue, but you’re rarely so reticent in sharing information with us that there must be a reason.”

“Huh. Well, you’re right. Loki is… kinda way above my paygrade, and I’m not gonna risk pissing him off before I ask for his help.”

With the complications of Harry summoning a pagan god, who also wasn’t a god, settled, and his friends mollified, the group all settled into various tasks to waste away the rest of the time until they finally arrived at the castle. It was when they got to the castle that things finally started happening again. More specifically it was at the Welcoming Feast, at least in Harry’s opinion, for others it probably started with being waterbombed by Peeves.

It was as he was sitting at the Gryffindor table, gazing out dispassionately at the rest of the hall (bar the suspicious glances he was giving the empty seat where the Defence professor usually sat) ignoring the usual announcements that were given, when his interest was finally being piqued at the cancellation of the House Quidditch League.

Tuning back in fully, he heard Dumbledore’s voice. “This is due to an event that will begin in October and will be continuing through the year, thus taking up much of the staff’s time and energy. I have the honor to announce that, this year, Hogwarts will play host to-”

It was at that moment that the Hall’s doors slammed open, at the same time as a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, revealing a hooded figure leaning on a staff. As he pulled his hood down, revealing long, slightly unkempt hair.

As the figure walked up to the Staff Table and was announced as the new Defence professor, Harry, gaining a phantom glimpse of an unknown face, leaned over to the Twins and whispered to them.

“How much ya bet he’s gonna wind up being invested in me for some reason?”

“Oh Harrikins, that’s far too easy a bet. George and I bet you 2 galleons it’ll take… two months minimum.”

“Deal.”

“Now, as I had begun to say, over the coming months Hogwarts shall play host to, for the first time in over a century, the Triwizard Tournament. Some of you may not know what the Tournament entails, so for those who do, I must ask you to forgive the explanation. Near on eight centuries the three most prominent European schools of magic, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, formed the Triwizard Tournament. Each school was to be represented by a Champion and were to compete in three magical tasks. Though the agreement stipulated that each school was to host it alternatingly every five years it was cancelled due to the death toll.”

“Though there were many attempts to reinstate the tournament over the years, none were successful, though the Ministry has determined it is time to attempt it again, with added safety measures. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrag, as well as their selected contenders, will be arriving in October, and the selection of the Champions, via an impartial judge. shall take place on Halloween night.”

Pausing to allow everyone to murmur about the possibility of winning the Tournament, or at the very least trying to enter their names into the selection pool, Dumbledor continued.

“Though many of you are undoubtedly eager, all administrative members involved have agreed to make it so that only students that are of age may enter their names. Given the dangers that will still lay within the tournament, I will personally ensure students below sixth and seventh year are unable to sway the judge. Now, I do believe it is time to sleep. Chop chop!”

Where most of the student body had begun to make their way to their respective common rooms and dormitories, Harry was headed in a different direction. Taking advantage of the large crowds in the Great Haal as everyone got up, he donned his Cloak made his way out of the castle, using one of the secret passages, and headed for the forbidden forest.

Getting to a small clearing, the only one in the forest that was surrounded by birch trees, he transfigured a section of the dirt into stone and began drawing the slightly altered ritual circle he had prepared. At each corner of the central triangle, he placed a different item. At one, a sprig of mistletoe, at another, some of the ashes he had gotten from Fawkes’ perch in his second year, at the last the scale of a salmon.

Standing at the south-eastern position, Harry recited a relatively short chant in Old Norse before there was a flash of light.

As his eyes adjusted to normal light again, Harry spoke.

“Hello, Loki.”

Chapter Text

“A wizard summons a trickster, it’s practically the opening to a bad bar joke! Not the usual rite people use to summon me though. Where’d ya find a different one?”

“I didn’t find it, I made it. All I did was substitute the dandelion with some ashes from a phoenix and do it in a birch clearing, but that isn’t why I summoned you. I need your help.”

“Definitely not just a regular teen wizard are ya Sabrina? I’m assumin’ you’re a Hunter then?” Getting a nod, he continued. “Well, I might not help you then. Bad business to deal with Hunters and all that. I’ll hear ya out though.”

“I have a… precarious situation. I’ve got a scar on my forehead and it, and by extension myself, is host to a shard of a soul. I’m a phylactery of a sort, and I was hoping you could remove it.”

Drawing in a breath through his teeth, Loki responded. “No dice kid. I’m a pagan god, not a reaper. I can’t just interfere with souls all willy-nily.”

“A pagan god might not be able to, but Gabriel the Archangel…”

Whirling around to look at Harry from where he had been examining the circle, Loki spoke. “Where, exactly , did you hear that?”

“A Hunter you messed with recently. His name's Rob.”

“Wait, you know Rob?”

“Yeah, I know most of the Hunters in the UK. Most of them go to The Hunter’s Moon and Frank’s kinda my surrogate uncle so…”

“Guess the cat’s out the bag then. Whoop-dee-doo, I’m actually an Archangel. That doesn’t really change much though. I’m not a reaper, I can’t go around reaping souls.”

“Well, it wouldn't really be reaping a soul. There are multiple shards of the soul. It’s really more like smiting a… proto-demon. Would you at least get a feel for it?”

“Ugh fine, but it’s only ‘cause you said it was more like a demon than anything.”

Walking up to him, Gabriel warned that what he was about to do might hurt a bit, but less than if it were his own soul he was investigating. As Gabriel reached his hand into Harry’s forehead, he saw his face cycle through a few emotions before settling on sheer loathing before he wrenched his hand back, with something oily and dripping grasped in it.

“I thought you were pulling my leg! Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to flay their soul!” Gabriel exclaimed, before narrowing his eyes at the shard of soul. “Oh, you megalomaniacal little shit.”

Turning back to Harry, he spoke again. “Listen, kid, I can deal with all the other shards that are in regular items, but that’s about all I can manage with Heaven’s non-interference policy.”

“Uh… thanks. Wow, you really weren’t lying about the pain.” Harry said, still recovering slightly from having the soul shard ripped out his forehead. “Honestly, that’s more than I asked for, I didn't even know he had more, so you aren’t gonna hear me complain.”

“Kid, actually, what’s your name? Feels like a bit too much of a dick move to have fiddled so close to your soul and just call you kid .”

“Uh… Harry.”

“Listen, Harry, you’ve gotta understand souls are a sacred thing. It’s literally your immortal essence. I might have run away from Heaven and become a pagan god, but I’m still angel enough to revere my father’s creations. To break something so divine? If I didn’t despise something like that I’d have Fallen by now. This isn’t some sorta favor, this is personal.”

“Ya know, usually I’d reply with something snarky, but I’m kinda out of it from… all of that, so, I’m just gonna let you know you’d probably have fun messing with some people here. The Hunter grapevine loves mentioning your whole… just desserts thing.”

“That’s a possibility for later. Bye for now Sabrina.” Gabriel replied before vanishing with a wooshing of wings.

With the night's business over and done with, Harry cleared the forest of any sign of the summoning rite before making his way back to the castle to sleep, lamenting the fact that the next day was a weekday, and the need to reestablish all his various wards, all the while.

The next day, as he was nursing a cup of black coffee at the Hufflepuff table with Neville, the rest of his friends settled themselves around the duo, with Blaise being the first to speak.

“Well, querido? Did the not-quite-a-trickster deign to provide his help?”

“Yup.” Harry groaned. “It was… painful to say the least, but the official diagnosis is that it’s gone. Saw it as well before he crushed it. Slimy. Gross.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell us what he actually is then?” Hermione asked an imperious edge to her voice.

“No can do. Loke is still way above my pay grade. And honestly, I’m too tired and not caffeinated enough to deal with the existential crisis that the truth would cause.”

“I’m going to figure it out and when I do I… I’ll be unpleasantly smug.”

“‘Mione, you can’t be worse than my envenenador is whenever he finally gets a chance to regale me with the latest torrid rumors. No offense, darlin’.”

“None taken amore mio. Now, we really do need to get to class, or else you and Neville are going to be late for Charms, Hermione and I for Defence and Luna for Transfiguration. Hermione and I will make sure to let you know if the professor is potentially homicidal dearest.”

"Oh, word of warning, there's something up with him. Foe Warning."

Chapter Text

It was only a decent while later that Harry was able to get an update on whether or not the new Defence professor was liable to try and murder people it was just rather unfortunate that it had to happen on the way to their first Ancient Runes class for the year.

Walking through the corridors, Hermione was the first to begin the debrief.

“Well, it was certainly an… interesting class. That’s for sure. I wouldn’t say homicidal per se, but we probably should keep an eye on him, seeing as we haven’t had the best track record with our professors. In light of the warning, I did cast a few illusion dispelling charms, though nothing happened.”

“I agree with the general need to keep an eye on him, but I disagree with the lack of homicidality. I haven’t a clue what the bastard did, but none of us have been able to directly mention what he covered to people who haven’t had class with him yet, but I can say it involves three rather specific spells.”

"Good to know." Harry commented idly. "On both fronts. Let's give it a bit, wait for other signs. Might be that the disfigured look is an intimidation tactic he uses."

Settling in their seats, Harry contemplated the information, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive. On the one hand, it seemed like the class would be interesting, on the other he was annoyed that a spell, or spells, unknown had been cast on his friends without their permission, though he was quickly shaken from his thoughts as Professor Babbling began the class.

“Welcome back, and I hope you all enjoyed your break! Now, last year we covered the the Nordic Runic systems and how they can be used for ritual magic and enchanting, culminating in personal projects. This year we shall be pivoting away from the mundane when it comes to lexical systems and examining a script of a different magical race.”

“Now, is anyone able to tell me what system the symbols on the board come from? Anyone? Ah yes, Mr. Nott, any guesses?”

“I recall having seen some of the signs in a book on cave-dwelling members of the Aes Sídhe. Would it be a script created by the Cave Knockers?”

“A good guess, but not quite on the mark. You are correct in guessing that this particular system originates in subterranean caverns. This particular script is dwarvish in nature. More specifically it originates from the dwarvish clans near Sweden. The script itself is named Mro Athahn, and there are two main forms that you might see it in. There is the primary form, its so-called “runic” variant which was developed by the dwarvish people, and its more calligraphic glyphic variant which was developed by the surrounding human magical populace.” Babbling answered, pointing at the new images on the chalkboard.

“Now, does anyone here have a guess as to how this script is used for magic? Yes, Miss Moon?”

“Well, dwarves are known for their craftsmanship so… enchanting?”

“That is one of the uses, yes, but it isn’t the main use. The language that the script derives from is one of poetry, and each sign has both an ideographic meaning, as well as a poetic, symbolic meaning. At its core, it is a language of the arts. Each of the signs in the system, when acting as a magical focus, will impart a part of that meaning. This artistic nature was only able to be fully developed when the serifed, glyphic variant was formed.”

Levitating an enlarged, magical photo of a dance, she continued. “Mro Athahn is best used in an art dubbed ‘The Song Dance’. It’s a unique form of magic that few cultures have an analog to. In essence, it is a form of dance that is woven from the glyphic variant, though how that dance is performed depends on the practitioner. Some Song Spinners, as they are called, choose to use just their body, others implement staves. However, above the means of the dance, one must create a poem or ballad to be able to tap into the magic of the language.”

“Now, creating a Song Dance is going to be your end-of-year project and thus I don’t expect anyone to be doing such a thing at this time. Today, we’re going to be going over some of the less nuanced runic variant symbols to enchant something.” Babbling continued, levitating some stones towards their desks. “By the end of the lesson you should have created a stone that slowly cycles between being warm and cold, and remember intention and meaning!”

It was an interesting lesson, and language, Harry thought as he was leaving the class. Unfortunately, the only person to succeed at the task was Morag MacDougal, but he and Blaise had managed to make it so that their stones cycled between warm and room temperature. Hermione was rather annoyed that hers hadn’t had any effect but had agreed with Blaise that she was too focused on how the symbols could be used rather than crafting the poem to impart its meaning.

Chapter Text

Harry had been on edge for the rest of the week after Hermione and Blaise’s ominous warnings about Professor Moody. Rightfully so, if you asked him, seeing as the only set of three spells that he could think of that would be worth emphasis were the Unforgivables. Then, of course, there was the Foe Warning. He was on edge enough that he had specifically been sharpening his unenchanted knives, knowing not to become dependent on the ever-sharp knife Sirius had sent him.

He and Neville were already in their seats by the time Moody was in class and telling them to put their books away. As he was taking roll, Harry took the chance to study the new professor, not having paid him much mind during the Welcoming Feast. With the long, silvery mane of hair, combined with the innumerable amount of scars and pockmarked flesh, he had quite the wild man look about him. That was tempered ever so slightly by the peg leg prosthetic and the permafrost blue false eye that was whirling about. Magical, no doubt. Harry also took notice of the hip flask on his belt. Whether out of alcoholism or paranoia, Harry couldn’t say, but it would do to keep an eye on it. Overall, if it was an intimidation tactic, he supposed it would be quite successful.

Harry had ignored much of the opening spiel he gave until he started on what he would be covering that class.

“Curses. They vary in strength, function and from. According to the Ministry guidlines, I’m supposed to spend the year focused on counter curses. They think illegal Dark curses shouldn’t be shown until Sixth Year, some tosh about being old enough. Professor Dumbledore has a higher opinion of your nerves though. He reckons you lot can cope with it and I agree. You can’t defend against what you haven’t seen. You need to know what they look like to be prepared, illegal curses in the wild aren’t going to be cast with a warning. Miss Brown, put that away, I’m busy teaching.”

Harry’s first thought was that Moody wasn’t wrong in saying you had to know what you were going up against to properly defend against it, and he certainly agreed. It was the core ethos of being a Hunter after all. The second thought was less a thought and more just an overwhelming concern that Moody’s prosthetic eye seemed to be able to see through things.

“Does anone know what spells carry the heaviest lgal punishment in Britain?”

Several hands rose into the air, Harry and Neville’s amongst them, but Moody chose to go with Ron.

“Uh, my dad mentioned the… Imperius, I think he called it. Something about the Blood War?”

“Your father would know that one. Caused the Ministry a lot of trouble it did.”

Reaching into a jar on his desk, Moody drew out a spider and held it in his palm before encanting “Imperio!”. As though it were a marionette, the spider lept from Moody’s hand by a thread of silk, swinging as though it were a trapeze artist before backflipping onto his desk and cartwheeling about.

Most of the class was laughing, which was cut short by Moody.

“Funny isn’t it? Would it still be funny if I did it to you? I have total control over it. I could make it… jump out the window.” Moody said, making it move to the window as he said that, to emphasize the point. “Or… I could make it drown itself, maybe have it crawl into your throats. Weasley’s father was right in saying that the Imperius caused a lot of trouble in the Blood War. Struggled to tell who was freely acting and who wasn’t.”

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you, but it takes strength of character, willpower and not everyone’s got it. Better to avoid being hit by it with CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

“Right, anyone else know another? You, Longbottom!”

In a smaller voice than his usual one, with a slight quiver that few would hear, Neville spoke. “The… the Cruciatus Curse.”

Nodding, Moody reached into the jar again before he enlarged the spider, saying it would need to be bigger to see the effects properly. Putting the spider on his desk, Moody pointed his wand at it and muttered “Crucio!”

If Harry were in the interest of examining things with clinical sterility, he would have been fascinated by the twitching of the spider, how it seemed to scream without a mouth, and how, as it was kept under the curse longer, it twitched more violently.

Luckily for all involved, Harry was not. As it was, as the curse was cast he noticed Neville significantly pale, hands trembling. Subtly, Harry clutched his arm, as a show of support, before he kicked a small piece of debris on the floor at Moody’s desk to distract him from his perverse enjoyment of the curse.

Knocked out of his reverie, Moody spoke once more, voice soft, almost reverent. “Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain. You don’t need knives, thumbscrews or anything else if you can cast a curse that makes your nerves feel like liquid fire. Anyone know any others?”

Raising his hand, not waiting to be called on, Harry spoke. “The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra.”

Reaching into the jar one last time, Moody drew out a scuttling, frantic spider and placed it on his desk before casting the Killing Curse, causing a blinding emerald light to leave his wand with a rushing wind accompanying it.

“Not nice, that spell. There’s no countercurse, no blocking it with magic. Only one person is known to have survived it, and he’s in this class.”

At that Harry just rolled his eyes, exasperated at everyone turning to look at him. You’d think they would have gotten used to that fact, seeing as he had been in their year for the past four years.

“Avada Kedravra is a curse that needs a good deal of power and conviction behind it. You lot could point your wands at me and say the spell and I’d get, at most, a nosebleed. That doesn’t matter though, I’m not here to teach you how to cast it. If there’s no countercures, why am I showing it to you? You need to know. You need to know what the worst is in case you’re in a situatuion where you’re facing the worst. You need CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

“Those three curses are known as the Unforgivable Curses. Using any of them on another human is enough for a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you might be up against, what I have to teach you to fight.”

The rest of the class was spent taking notes about the Unforgivables as Moody lectured about them. As the bell rang Harry took out his phone and called Blaise, leaving the class with Neville by his side, both ignoring Moody who had initially motioned for Neville to stay behind.

“Blaise, my darling foxglove, where would you and the rest of our cohort happen to be?”

"Well, Hermione and I are busy cataloging various items in the Room of the Lost and I think Luna is in the forest. Why do you ask sweetheart?”

“Group meeting in the usual abandoned classroom.”

It took a while for everyone to convene in their normal classroom they met in, mostly because Luna was all the way in the forest, but they eventually all got to the room.

“Okay, does anyone know if the Defence professorship is actually cursed?”

“No one knows for certain, but it seems likely. I was doing some research for an article in The Quibbler and there hasn’t been a professor for Defence Against The Dark Arts who lasted longer than a year dating to 1972.”

“Okay, so definitely cursed. Anyone know how to speed it up?”

“Harry, why are you trying to get rid of another professor? I understand your enchantment activated in his presence, but you’ve only had a single lesson with him.”

“One, I don’t trust him. Two, he was weirdly into casting the Cruciatus, like… weirdly into casting it.”

“Disregarding the question of why, I’ve not heard of many ways to speed up a curse that any of us could perform meraviglia. Mother has some associates who prefer curses as disposal methods, so we could contract them out, but they only act if they have an emotional investment in the outcome.”

“Well, that sucks . Anyone wanna figure out how to make his life unbearable until the end of the year?”

Chapter Text

Harry was not a fan of Halloween. This made sense, given the path he had decided to go down in the future. Moreover, it seemed like it was cursed if the previous three years were anything to go by. All of this combined made it so that he was extra cautious and on edge during the weeks leading up to Halloween. As usual, he was right to be on edge.

“But Sir, last class you said casting an Unforgivable on some was illegal!” Someone called out. It might have been Finch-Fletchley, Harry wasn’t certain.

“Dumbledore wants you to know what the curse feels like. If you want to find out the hard way fine by me. The door’s that way.”

Well, this seemed like an awful idea in Harry’s opinion. Well, not awful in theory, but in practice given that their professor didn’t seem altogether sane, was likely evil, and was potentially an alcoholic. Leading up to himself, his classmates managed to do rather elaborate tasks, with the only one who displayed a modicum of resistance being Neville, though he hadn’t been able to fight it off.

Then it was his turn.

He moved into the middle of the classroom and heard Moody cast the curse, but that was rather inconsequential. Now, as a general rule, Harry was always a little paranoid. It made sense given his entire life up until now, so he was always anticipating something going wrong. So he was more than a little concerned at the feeling of blissful peace, even if that concern was forced to the back of his mind.

That was when he heard Moody’s voice in his head.

Jump onto the desk… jump onto the desk.

In the back of his mind, another voice, likely his subconscious if you asked him, spoke.

No, that’s dumb.

Jump onto the table.

No, why would I do that? I’m not even fighting so there’s no advantage.

Jump. Now.

No, that’s fucking dumb. Get out my mind. Now.

It was after that that Harry felt his usual undercurrent of paranoia return, thus signifying the curse was no longer working.

“Now that’s what we’re looking for! Fought against it and managed to throw it off. Let’s do it again, look at his eyes, that’s where you’ll see it.”

The next half of the lesson then proceeded to alternate between having other people go under the Imperius and having Harry go under it again. And again. And again. Understandably, he was incredibly pissed off and suspected he was developing a migraine from all of the cursing. This only became more obvious when he and Neville headed down to the Great Hall, only for there to be a loud, raucous crowd in the Entrance Hall.

Walking over to where the missing three members of their group were Harry rested his forehead on Blaise’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Darl’, two things. One, do you have any Dog’s Hair Brew, ‘cus I have a killer migraine right now. Two, why is the Entrance Hall packed, and why around a sign?”

“Mia lametta, of course, I have something for headaches, it’s practically mandatory what with practically being the school rumor mill, also Pomfrey is annoying.” Blaise answered, handing Harry a vial from his pocket. “As for the second question, it’s just an announcement. We’re welcoming the foreign schools to Hogwarts on the thirtieth.”

“Thank you, my hemlock.” Harry said before downing the potion. “Ugh. Fucken’ vile. I’m gonna guess attendance for their arrival is mandatory?”

“Sadly. The last class of the day ends half an hour early however.”

“Cool, guess Snape can’t try and poison all of us then.”

“Harry, Snape isn’t going to try and poison us, don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s very silly Hermione. Obviously he will, he’s a key member of the Rotfang Conspiracy.”

“No clue what a rotfang is, but Lue’s right. Snape is obviously a little evil.”

The week leading up to the arrival of the other schools was one filled with stress from the faculty, mostly on making sure that the students didn’t let anyone from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons that the student body was flawed. The húsvættir had also spent the week leading up to it just cleaning every nook and cranny possible, no matter how untouched it was.

It was at lunch on the day the schools were expected to arrive that Harry thought to ask something that he had been considering, but forgot about with everything that had been happening recently.

“Y’all think I should send a Pads one of the phones Frank got for me?”

“It seems like a wise idea. It would certainly allow you two, as well as the rest of us, to communicate rather more securely than owl post allows for.” Hermione replied.

“I mean, that was only part of my reasoning. Mostly I thought it’d be funny to see his attempts at texting.”

“Both are good points. You can use Brân to send it to him tesoro.” Blaise commented, not looking up from his book as he raised an arm that had a raven positioned on it not long after.

“Mi vida, how long have you had a pet raven?” Harry asked, writing out a note and wrapping up a phone to send to Sirius.

“I’ve had one since I was twelve, I just rarely send letters so there’s no reason for you to have seen him.”

It wasn’t much longer that the entirety of the school was standing outside, waiting for the delegations to arrive. They had initially been led out and lined up by year and house, but they had all snuck about to group up. Naturally, they had all also ignored the line about leaving their bags in their dorms. McGonagall had tried to get Harry to leave it behind, but he had just pointed out the track record of needing to be prepared and she had dropped it.

“It’s freezing out here. When the hell are the schools gonna get here?”

“Impatience is unbecoming of you Harry.”

“I’m not impatient Nev, I just have better things to be doing.”

“You didn’t argue when Blaise called you impatient at lunch yesterday.”

“Yeah, but that was Blaise… Do you guys see that?”

Looking in the same direction as Harry was, they all began to notice something. Flying in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, at first an indistinct blob of color, was a rather large, powder blue carriage. Attached at the front by a set of reins were twelve palomino Abraxans. The Abraxans themselves, once the carriage had landed, were quite a bit larger than your average Abraxan. After one of the Beauxbatons students had set out a set of stairs a rather large woman stepped out. She was rather similar to Hagrid, in fact. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if she had some form of giant ancestry.

As the headmistress, presumably, stepped out of the carriage, wrapping her fur coat about herself, Dumbledore moved forward to greet her.

“My dear Madame Maxime, welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr, I ’ope I find you well?” She responded.

“Not just well, but excellent, thank you,” said Dumbledore.

A group of students, who Madame Maxine gesticulated at, had exited the carriage and looked very uncomfortable if the shivering was anything to go by. An understandable state of being, seeing as their uniform seemed to be made of silk taffeta and they were now in Scotland in the midst of a particularly cold fall, even if a decent number of them were wearing shawls, scarves and headscarves.

“‘As Karkaroff arrived?”

“Not yet, but he should be here rather soon. Would you prefer to wait for him, or rather step inside and warm up and relax after the journey?”

“Ze latter, I zink. Ze ‘orses-”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures professor would be delighted to take care of them.”

“Ze Abraxans require… forceful ‘andling. I zink you can see, zeir size.”

“Hagrid will be more than capable.”

“Very well. Might you inform zis ‘Agrid zat sey only drink single-malt whiskey?”

“Of course.”

After the French delegation had gone in, they once again sat around to wait for the Durmstrang delegation, some people wondering if they would be flying in as well. It was only a few minutes later that they started hearing something. It was a muffled mixture between rumbling and sucking. As one, the students turned to look at the Black Lake, where the noise was coming from. Where once there had been a smooth, mirror-like lake, there was now the beginnings of a whirlpool. Rising from the center was what appeared to be a commandeered Spanish ghost ship, which docked near the castle side of the lake.

“Dumbledore! How are you?”

“Absolutely splendid, thank you Professor Karkaroff.”

Stepping up to shake hands with Dumbledore, Karkaroff spoke. “Dear old Hogwarts, it is so good to be here… Viktor, come along into the warmth, you don’t mind, do you Dumbledore? Viktor has a head cold…”

As the Durmstrang students headed inside, followed by the Hogwarts students shortly after, Harry had one thought filling his mind. Something was definitely going to go wrong tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, seeing as the night’s meal was an official feast, Harry had to sit at his actual House’s table. Under normal circumstances, this would lead to quite a bit of boredom on his part, seeing as his housemates, bar the Weasley Twins, were rather boring in his opinion. The current circumstances, however, were rather abnormal as far as Hogwarts meals went.

Looking around the Hall, he noticed two things. First, the Beauxbatons students seemed to be rather… unimpressed with Hogwarts as a castle, seeing as it was, at its base, a Norman Keep. In comparison to the Gothic château that Beauxbatons was described as he could see how a keep was rather… lackluster. In comparison to the French students, the Durmstrang contingent seemed to be rather impressed by the castle and the more luxurious ornamentation.

Oddly enough, when he looked up at the Staff Table, Harry noticed Filch setting out four extra chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore. An oddity, in his opinion given that the only new officials in the castle were the visiting Heads.

With everyone finally settled into the hall, Dumbledore stood and addressed the hall. “Good evening ladies, gentlemen, ghosts and honored guests. I have the great pleasure of welcoming you to Hogwarts. I hope you find your stay in our castle to be comfortable and pleasant.” A scoff could faintly be heard from one of the Beauxbatons students at that.

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast, but for now eat, and make yourselves at home.”

At the end of Dumbledore’s speech, the plates on the tables filled up with, to Harry’s pleasure and surprise, a wider variety of foods than was usually served at Hogwarts, likely for the benefit of the foreign students. As he was eating a rather wonderful beef goulash he looked up at the Staff Table to see if the last two chairs were still empty and noticed they had been filled by Bagman and Crouch from the World Cup, which made sense, seeing as the tournament was, in essence, a magical game that facilitated international relations.

After the dessert (which was wonderfully varied again) had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood up to speak once more.

“Now, the moment is finally here. The tournament is about start, but I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket-”

Well, that was an… interesting choice of words in Harry’s opinion. Would the judge be a spirit that needed summoning? An unconventional choice if true, seeing as most people frowned upon the use of necromancy.

“-just to clarify the procedure the year will follow. Before that, however, I would like to introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and Mr. Ludovic Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

The hall broke into a round of applause at Bagman being introduced, given his fame from being a star Beater for a decently popular Quidditch team.

“Both of our Ministry representatives have been working tirelessly over the course of the past few months on the arrangements necessary for the Tournament to take place. Along with Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxine and myself, they will be acting as the judges for the efforts of our champions. Now, the casket if you would, Mr Filch.”

From a corner of the Great Hall, behind the Staff Table, Filch approached Dumbledore with a rather large chest-like item made of wood, with an ostentatious number of jewels encrusting its surface. Given the lack of a visible latching method, it was unlikely for Harry’s previous assumption to be accurate. Perhaps an artifact instead, he thought.

“The instructions for the tasks have been reviewed by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, with the necessary arrangements for each challenge being implemented. There will be three tasks throughout the year, all with the aim of testing the champions in various manners, be it their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction and, most of all, their ability to cope with danger.”

“As you will be aware, three champions shall participate in the tournament, each one being a representative of their school. They will be judged and scored based off of their performances in each of the tasks, with the champion with the highest score winning the Triwizard Cup. Said  champions will selected by the Goblet of Fire.”

As he paused his speech, Dumbledore tapped his wand thrice against the top of the casket. From within, he extracted a rather large, roughly hewn wooden goblet with what looked to be thin lines carved across its entirety. On the surface, it would have been an entirely unremarkable chalice if it weren't for the dancing azure flames within it.

“Anyone wishing to enter themselves into the tournament must write their name and school on a slip of parchment and drop it into the flames. Aspiring entrees shall have twenty-four hours to enter. Tomorrow night, at the end of the feast, the Goblet shall return the names of those it has judged most worthy to represent their school. It shall be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be accessible to all those wishing to enter.”

“To ensure none who are underage are able to submit their names, I shall be drawing an age line around the Goblet once it has been placed within the Entrance Hall. Finally, I wish to impress upon all those present that to enter your name is not something to be taken lightly. Each champion that has been selected must participate in the Tournament until the very end. The selection of your name constitutes a binding, magical contract. Make sure you are absolutely certain in your wishes before entering your name. Now, I do believe it is time for bed. Good night, all.”

As they were all heading back to their dorms, Harry heard the Weasley Twins talking and decided to join their conversation out of boredom.

“An Age Line? Should be solved by an Aging Potion, right George?”

Before Fred could respond, Harry spoke. “I mean, that depends really. What sort of age does it go off of, or does the caster determine that?”

“What are you on about Harry?”

“Well George, a potion that physically ages you up would work if the Line works off of your physical age. It might be based on your chronological age, or what age your psychological state tends to appear in. Hell, it might even be a combination or all of them!”

“Well then Harrikins, how would you go about getting your name in the Goblet?”

“Y’all are thinking like wizards again. Dumbledore said he’s setting up an Age Line. That’s all he said.” Harry replied, hoping they would catch on.

“What are you getting at?”

Sighing, Harry spelled it out for them.

“There will be an Age Line. No one older than nineteen can enter. You two aren’t nineteen. There are three ways forward. Ask someone who is nineteen to enter your names for you, try levitating your name in, or just try throwing them in. Not everything needs some complex magic to be solved. Wizards …”

“Huh… why didn’t we think about that?”

“Wand-wavers lack common sense? Anyway, y’all probably won’t be chosen.”

“Is Harry doubting us brother dear?”

Cutting in before George could respond, Harry spoke once more.

“No, far from it actually. Just ‘cus y’all are semi-prodigal with inventing new stuff, doesn’t mean you’ll get chosen. We don’t even know what the criteria is. It could be duelling practice, or grades, or… fucken’ butter churning. The thing was crafted in like, twelve ninety four at the latest, who kows what it thinks is worthy . Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna head to bed so I’m well rested for the curse that is Halloween.”

Chapter Text

The next day Harry awoke with a distinct feeling of dread, a common experience for him on Halloween, especially after the past three years. This year was unlike other Halloween’s past, seeing as he wasn’t the only person awake early, though he was still one of the first people to be awake. Where most Saturdays would see the student body sleeping in (unless they were fifth and seventh years) this Saturday had a decent collection of them milling around in the Entrance Hall, eating toast and the like. Seeing his friends near the doors to the Great Hall, Harry filled his thermos with coffee and grabbed a sandwich before heading over to them.

“Well, which idiots have entered?”

“The list is incomplete but so far: Cassius Warrington, Kenneth Towler tried but couldn’t get past the Age Line, Titus Bole, Elvin Ivanov and Cedric Diggory.” Neville responded.

“Darlin’, projections for champion?”

“Well caro mio, assessments of past performances leave Warrington and Diggory as the likeliest candidates. Both perform admirably in their academics, are rather physically capable and generally display fair sportsmanship. If the criteria includes chivalric honor, or the wizarding equivalent, which it likely will to some degree, then Diggory is the best contender.”

As Blaise finished his assessment, the Weasley Twins walked into the Entrance Hall, both holding clear vials, stepping before the Age Line.

“Well, this is it Fred.”

“Indeed it is George. Bottoms up!”

Before anyone could say anything, the Twins had drunk the potions and stepped over the line. Much to everyone's amusement, and Harry’s interest, they were immediately blasted out of it, adorned by long, white beards. Ignoring everything else going on around him, Harry yelled over to them.

“Really? You still decided to try the potion? I told you it wouldn’t work. In great detail.”

“I did warn you. Perhaps you ought to join Miss Fawcett and Mr. Summers in Madam Pomfrey’s care. Though if you might indulge an old man, Mr. Potter, how did you come to the conclusion an Aging Potion would not work?”

“Aging Potions only age you up in one way, physically. Given what happened to the twins, the Line takes other kinds of age into account, meaning you’d have to alter those as well. It’s just a logical conclusion.”

“Indeed it does. 5 points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”

After the spectacle in the Entrance Hall, as well as Neville and Blaise updating their lists and analysis with new information, Harry decided it would be a good idea to hunt down Helena to inform her of the change in the situation she had been helping him with, seeing as he’d forgotten to with all the new content he’d been covering in his classes.

As usual, it took a while for him to hunt her down, even with the help of the Marauders Map given the lack of any user interface, but he eventually managed to find her in the library.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. I take it you have an update on the… research that we had been conducting until recently?”

“Hey ‘Lena. I do indeed, though it happened at the start of the term, things have just been kinda busy. Good news, fully in the clear, bad news, there are, or maybe were at this point, other shards.”

“That is a… relief, yet worrying. It would have been quite a shame for you to die when there is much yet for you to do, yet the news of other shards is concerning. Under most Western models, there are two main numbers of power. If Mr. Riddle had not intended to make a tripartite soul, he would instead have been aiming for a sevenfold soul. What news have you, on the remaining fragments?”

“Uh… none, but the guy who dealt with mine is gonna be dealing with them, so they’re all sorted.”

“That is uncommonly positive news. With a lack of tethers, he shall be easier vanquished by those who ought to perform such acts.”

After speaking with Helena, Harry spent the rest of the day leading up to the Halloween Feast moping, seeing as this year’s Feast had mandatory attendance, unlike years past, on top of the fact that nothing good had happened on Halloween as long as he had been going to Hogwarts. It was at the actual feast that most of the school’s excitement was palpable.

The food wasn’t what most people were looking forward to, so it didn’t take long for the feasting part of the night to come to an end, the plates clearing as Dumbledore stood from his seat and moved to the Goblet.

“The Goblet is almost ready to pick the champions. Now, when a champion’s name is called they are to enter the antechamber behind the Head Table where they will receive their first set of instructions.”

As he finished speaking, he drew his wand, moving it in a grand sweeping motion, extinguishing every candle in the Hall, leaving the stars above and the vivid azure flames of the Goblet as the only lights, casting an ominous glow around the Goblet itself and those nearest to it.

All of a sudden, the Goblet began to burn crimson, spitting sparks and gouts of fire as it did, leading up to a large tongue of fire, out of which a piece of parchment erupted, floating down where Dumbledore caught it.

“The Champion for Durmstrang will be… Viktor Krum!” He announced, to much applause.

As Harry watched him slouch his way up the hall from the Slytherin table he was entirely unsurprised. The Quidditch superstar who’s still in school? No , he couldn’t possibly be chosen. Harry wondered if any of the others had even entered their names. He was broken out of his musings when the dramatic light show happened once more, a second piece of paper fluttering to Dumbledore’s hand.

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is… Fleur Delacour!” He called out.

Looking over to the Ravenclaw table where the Beauxbatons students were sat, Harry considered the students’ reaction, as well as Delacour herself. Overall, most of the French contingent were distraught, if the sobbing that could be heard was anything to go by. Delacour walked with a rather sure stride, as though she knew she had earned her spot and would prove it.

Once more, the Goblet flared crimson and spat out a third piece of parchment, summarily caught by Dumbledore, who called out, “The Hogwarts Champion is… Cedric Diggory!”

A worthy choice, in Harry’s opinion. Talented at transfiguration, a dab hand at charms, and overall intelligent. He was certain to put on a good showing. Then there was his general demeanor, affable and fair to all he encountered. As he was contemplating the odds of who would win, based on what little he knew about two of the participants, he hadn’t noticed what happened shortly after, until Dumbledore said something a third time, holding a new piece of parchment.

“Harry Potter!”

A thud resounded through the Hall as Harry slammed his forehead against the table.

Chapter Text

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called again.

Resigned to his fate, Harry stood and made his way to the antechamber that Dumbledore had indicated previously. He had known that something would go wrong, it was Hogwarts and Halloween, of course, something would go wrong, but he hadn’t anticipated being selected as a fourth contestant, though Blaise probably had a betting pool on it.

When he entered the room, he saw Krum, Diggory and Fleur standing in a small group around the fire burning in a little fireplace off in the corner of the room. Hearing his entrance the three of them turned to look at him, with Delacour speaking.

“What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

“Nah, but shit has hit the fan ever so slightly.”

Shortly after he spoke, there was movement that could be heard, heralding the arrival of a Tournament official, Bagman. He attempted to grab Harry’s arm to lead him forward, though failed when Harry pulled back from him.

“Extraordinary! Absolutely extraordinary! Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you the fourth Triwizard Champion!”

At Bagman’s proclamation, Krum stood straighter, assessing Harry, his gaze darkening to an even surlier expression than before. Cedric looked confused, yet resigned, looking between Harry and Bagman. In sharp contrast, Delacour merely smiled and spoke.

“Vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Oh no, it’s no joke! Mister Potter’s name just came out the Goblet!”

“Evidently zere ‘as been a mistake. ‘E is too young to compete.”

“Well, the age restriction was only imposed as a safety measure this year, I don’t think the contract that the Goblet works on was ever actually rewritten. With his name coming out… I don’t think there’s any ducking out now.”

As Bagman finished talking, the door to the room opened once more, admitting Dumbledore, the other school Heads, Professor McGonagall, Crouch, and, for some incomprehensible reason, Professor Snape. As he had expected, the Hall was abuzz with the turning of the rumor mill, the noise being cut off when McGonagall closed the door.

“Madame Maxime! Zey say zis little boy is to compete!”

“I’m right here you know.” Harry said, completely ignored as everyone else kept talking amongst themselves. “Or ignore me, that’s also completely fine. Not like I can speak.”

Dumbledore proceeded to turn to him and spoke. “Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Mr. Potter?”

“No.” Harry answered, continuing when he heard a soft snort of derision from Snape. “I don’t know what type of age the Line you cast was working off of so I don’t how I would have gotten over it.”

“Did you ask an older student to enter it for you?”

“Ah yes, because I would love to enter the death games that no one remembers the previous contestants of. If you couldn’t tell, I was being sarcastic.”

After a back and forth between McGonagall, Dumbledore and Maxime, Karkaroff thought to ask the nominally impartial judges what the rules would say about the current situation.

“We must follow the rules, which clearly state that whoever’s name comes from the Goblet of Fire is bound to compete in the Tournament.”

After hearing Crouch’s claim, Harry spoke up.

“Could I get a copy of those rules? I’m not taking the word of someone who thought knowing how a wanded spell is cast was suspicious as the word of God.”

There was yet more back and forth, where Karkaroff and Maxime threatened to take their students with them and spoke of complaining to the ICW, though none of it was particularly relevant until Moody, who had entered midway through the conversation, suggested that Harry’s entry was a plot to kill him, to which Bagman responded rather tritely.

“Moody old man… what a thing to say!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really.” Harry said, inserting himself back into the conversation. “A troll and a professor going missing in my first year, mysterious petrifications in my second and the dementors last year? It would fit the pattern for an assasination plot to happen in my fourth.”

After pejorative claims made against Moody (though Harry agreed that he had thought about how to go about entering a fourth person a little bit too much) and more attempts at removing Harry from the Tournament, Crouch gave them their first clue.

“The Tasks will be themed around eras of development in magical thought. The First Task is designed to test your daring in the face of the unknown, an important quality in a person, and is based on Platonic magical thought. It shall take place on November twenty-fourth, in front of the students and the judges.”

After Crouch finished speaking the room slowly started emptying, with the professors and Ministry officials being the first to leave, Krum and Fleu following shortly after. Cedric stuck around a while longer trying to figure out how Harry had gotten his name in, though Harry just ignored him and started heading to Gryffindor Tower.

As he was making his way to the Tower, he was ambushed by his friends, pulling him aside into an empty classroom.

“Well, mio amato, what did the incompetents say?”

“Basically, I’ve gotta compete according to Crouch , but I trust his word as far as I could throw the castle we’re in, so I’m gonna be given a copy of the rules for the tournament by Dumbledore tomorrow. What’s the gossip darl’?”

“The school seems split in half over whether or not they think you entered yourself. Slytherin is its own subject, they have three factions so far. Malfoy’s side thinks you cheated in, Cassius Warrington and his faction think you’re too talentless to have gotten in, and Theodore and Tracey’s faction are undecided.”

“Expected, but annoying."

“Oh, Harry, the Twins are planning on throwing a party. They seem to believe you managed to get your name in the Goblet.”

“Ugh, thanks Lue. I’m not dealing with that. I’m just gonna sleep in the Ravenclaw common room.”

“Why not Hufflepuff?”

“No offense Nev, but I don’t think your house is gonna be the nicest right now.”

“Fair.”

Chapter Text

The next morning was a rather interesting one. It all started when Harry sat down at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast with his friends. Now, contrary to what one might think, Harry did know the names and vague descriptions of all the students in his year. This was relevant for two reasons. The first was that, for some reason, the House tables were organized so that the lower the year the closer to the doors to the Hall you sat.

This was relevant for a second reason. There was a new, very familiar person sitting across from him at the Ravenclaw table - a student with sandy-blond hair and eyes a touch too honeyed to be amber. Harry didn’t even get to say anything before he spoke.

“Hey, Sabrina, catch!”

Looking at what was thrown at him, Harry saw it was a ring. The band of the ring was plain gold that was clean, if a bit dull. The stone that the band held in place, however, was far more interesting. It was an octagonal black stone, with a faint glow emitting from the center and slight ridges with a faint golden light.

“Uh, Loki, what’s with the ring and why are at my school?” Harry asked, looking back up as he did.

“I might answer your questions if you put the ring on.”

“ Fine . Wow, it’s a-” Harry started saying as he put the ring on before he stopped. As the ring rested on the base of his middle finger he felt himself temporarily exit his body before rubberbanding backing into himself, falling backward as he did.

“Ok, clearly not a normal ring then.” Harry said as he seated himself back at the table “Care to explain?”

“It’s real simple. Everyone’s got a cosmic role to play and yours is a little higher up. There’s one last thing you gotta get, but I can’t tell ya what it is. Anyway, I mostly popped over to make sure ya got that, also figured it’d be fun to pop over and mess with some people.”

“Meraviglia, care to introduce the new not-a-student?”

“Oh yeah, that’s Loki, not really important. Did Dumbledore drop off the rules?”

Without a word, Hemione handed over a sheaf of parchment from her satchel. Wordlessly, he read through the rules, the first few sheaves of which were mostly about codes of conduct, not having relations with the presiding judges and the like. It was when he got to the last sheet of parchment that he finally said something again.

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!”

“What did you find?”

“Oh, nothing much, just that I literally can’t get out of this damn Tournament. This is so fucking medieval !”

“I mean, that’s rather obvious. What does it say exactly, maybe there’s a loophole you aren’t seeing?”

“Oh, there’s no loophole ‘Mione. It’s in Middle English so, y’know, loose translation but it says ‘Whoever's name does exit this goblet, written by their hand or no, shall be bound by law and soul to compete within this tournament’”

In the following weeks, Harry kept himself busy helping Gabriel avoid suspicion from the staff while he kept the use of his grace low enough that he avoided suspicion from Heaven’s bureaucracy, as well as supplying him with candy that he didn’t have to conjure. It was quite the nice distraction from the death tournament he’d been entered into, though a bit existential when he mentioned offhandedly that he had dealt with the remaining phylacteries.

That distraction was ruined during a Potions lesson.

It had been a fairly average lesson. Snape threatening to poison them all, now with added academic reasons, being bored, the usual. It rather quickly became an odd lesson when a Gryffindor a year below him came into the class.

“Excuse me sir, I’m to take Harry Potter upstairs, Mr. Bagman needs him.”

Sighing to himself, Harry tuned out the rest of the conversation as he packed up his potions kit, preparing himself for the bumbling idiocy of a government official. When he entered the room he was led to, he saw it was a classroom, though the majority of the desks had been pushed to the side.

By the blackboard, however, there were three desks all pushed together and covered with a long strip of velvet. Sat behind the desks were Bagman and a woman who, based on the notepad she held, was probably a reporter. In one of the corners of the room was Krum standing by himself, with Cedric and Fleur off to the side talking to each other. Near the presumed journalist was a shorter man with a camera that was smoking slightly.

“Ah, there he is! Champion number four, in you come Mr. Potter, in you come, it’s the Weighing of the Wands, nothing special, the rest of the judges will be here soon.”

“The kid that led me here mentioned something about photos ?” Harry said, annoyance barely hidden.

“Ah yes, just a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter, she’s doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet.”

“Maybe not that small Ludo. Though I wonder if I could have a word with Harry before we start. The youngest champion and all, it should add quite a bit of color.”

“Certainly! That is, if Mr. Potter has no objections?”

“I do, on the grounds of it being illegal.”

“Who’s ever heard of an interview being illegal?” Skeeter laughed.

“The Journalism Act of 1876, Miss Skeeter. I don’t have a guardian or alternative representation present, and I’m not an adult, in either the magical or mundane worlds, thus you legally can’t interview me.”

Hurriedly moving away from Rita, Harry made his way to Cedric and Fleur and wound up making conversation about the Nouvelle Aquitaine Enclave that her grandmother was born in, and where she spent alternating summer breaks. The conversation came to a halt when all of the champions had to sit down in a row of chairs near the door, looking at the table now filled out with the judges.

Looking over at the door when it opened, Harry saw Dumbledore enter the room followed by Mr. Ollivander who took up a position in front of the table, standing just so that the judges could see what he would be doing.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, if you please.” He asked, accepting the wand from Fleur where she now stood, vacating her seat.

Twirling the wand about between his fingers, it emitted red and blue sparks before he held it up to his eyes.

“Hmm, yes nine and a half inches… inflexible, made of rosewood… ah, interesting…”

“An ‘air from ze ‘ead of a veela. It is one of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes, yes, I rather avoid veela hair, the few I used in my youth only ever paired with family members, rather temperamental otherwise.”

Running his finger along the wand lengthwise, he flicked it forward and muttered “Orchideous!”, causing a bouquet of orchids to sprout from the end.

“Perfect working order, Mr Diggory, if you would.” He said, handing Fleur her wand and taking Cedric’s.

“Ah, one of my wands. Tail hair of quite the aggressive male unicorn, nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked the hair! Twelve and a quarter inches, ash and pleasantly springy.” Ollivander said before flicking it in a circle causing a stream of silver smoke circles to puff out. “Perfect condition I must say. Mr. Krum?”

“Hmm, one of Gregorovitch’s. A fine craftsman, though a tad unconventional in his methods. Hm, hornbeam and… dragon heartstring. Quite a bit thicker than I’ve seen. Rather rigid, ten and a quarter inches. Avis!” At the last exclamation, a small flock of birds came out the end, and everyone turned to Harry himself.

Ollivander gave Harry’s wand a bit of extra attention, given the rather uncommon core used within, though he eventually summoned a small cloud of snowflakes before returning it to him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the torment, as a photoshoot followed, with both group shots and individual headshots. It was quite possibly the most torturous experience he’s ever had.

Chapter Text

It was when Harry was lounging in a windowed alcove facing the Quidditch pitch that he noticed something rather unusual. A large group of individuals were on the pitch, with four cages in the center of four massive ritual circles. Turning over to Neville who was tending to some plants that were in the abandoned room they had commandeered as a club room of sorts, he spoke.

“Hey Nev, take a look out the window for me real quick.”

Turning just his head, Neville glanced out the window. “Huh, that’s… a choice .”

“Why must you fill me with dread? Why is it a choice?”

“It’s just… the outfits some of them are wearing look kind of like the uniform of the Daedalian Order. They’re a Greek sorcery guild that’s known for making magical constructs, really they should be named after Hephaestos but the founder was weird about being a distant descendant of Daedalus.”

“Oh I have a horrendous feeling I know what I’m gonna be going up against soon.”

Over in the corner of the room, where he had set up a potions lab, Blaise turned to look over his shoulder.

“Your suspicion being what, bellissimo?”

“Well, Crouch said that the Tasks would be based around ‘eras in development of magical thought’. He said the first one was themed around Platonic magical thought, which was mostly based around Forms and, like, the impermanence and imperfection of physical reality, but ya can’t really make a tangible Form that’s, like, their whole deal .”

“I fail to see the correlation.”

“I’m getting there, just hang on! Anyway, ‘cus Forms are out of the running, there is one other main thing that Platonic occultism, and just Greek thought, a lot of civilizations really but that’s besides the point  I’m rambling. The four elements, is my point. There was, like, a whole tiered system, it differed from occultist to occultist, philosopher to philosopher, but the base point is Ancient Greece loved the Classical Elements.”

“Oh! You think they might be making elemental constructs!” Hermione called out, temporarily distracted from the enchanting project she was tinkering on in the makeshift lab she had set up in one of the other windowed alcoves in the room.

“Hole in one ‘Mione.” Harry replied, looking at his watch. “Crap! We need to get going if we want to get to class on time.”

Said class that Harry, Blaise and Hermione would be late for was Study of Ancient Runes, though it was rather different a lesson than they had had when compared to the other lessons they had attended.

“Welcome everyone! Now, you might be wondering why we’re in the Great Hall today, instead of the classroom. Would anyone like to hazard a guess? Yes, Mr. Nott.”

“Is it a practical demonstration?”

“Close, but not quite . We’ve spent much of this term focusing on the runic variant of Mro Athan’s uses in enchanting, as well as the theory behind the Song Dance of the glyphic variant. At this point, I believe you all have a strong enough base in the theory to perform a simple song dance. I want you all to aim for something very simple. A small cloud, raising the temperature, or lowering it.” Babbling answered.

If someone who didn’t know about magic had entered into the Great Hall that hour they could quite easily have mistaken the Ancient Runes class for some form of demented yoga class. Either that or an interpretive dance class. Harry, however, was rather oblivious to that fact. He hadn’t quite expected it but the Song Dance was rather all-encompassing. In the moment all that mattered was himself and the ballad he danced.

When the subject of the Song Dance had been discussed in class he had thought it would merely be following the lines of each glyph that was used, though in reality there was quite a specific rhythm that each step had to flow through. A majority of the students in the class experienced success this time around, unlike the first lesson they had regarding Mro Athahn.

It was as he was leaving the Great Hall that an idea struck him.

“Ya know, I think I know how I’m gonna deal with the First Task.”

Chapter Text

Since his first use of the Song Dance, Harry’s time had been split between his studies and working on his current Plan A for fighting an elemental construct, which he verified he would be facing by sneaking onto the Quidditch Pitch using his Invisibility Cloak. As it turned out, Plan A was very frustrating to make, given he was having to write out individual Mro poems for each of the four elements.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite lucky enough to avoid external distractions. When he was headed to Herbology he was approached by one of the more suspicious new arrivals, also known as Moody.

“With me, Potter. Zabini, Granger off you go.”

“Uh, I’m meant to be in Herbology.” Harry replied whilst Blaise and Hermione stood still behind him.

“Never mind that, it’s about the Tournament.”

Harry just sighed to himself before letting his friends know to go ahead and started heading the way that Moody was walking.

When he set foot in his office he took stock of the changes to it since the last time he had been in it, over two years ago. Where Lockhart had filled the office with countless paintings of himself, Moody had filled it with a variety of tools and artifacts. There was what appeared to be a spinning top on the desk, and a golden TV antenna, neither of which he recognized, though he did recognize one of them.

“Your Foe-Glass is out of focus.”

“What do you know about Foe-Glasses?”

“Decent amount, given they were part of my Runes project last year. I’m assuming you had a reason for calling me in here?

“You figure out what the first task is?”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that, like, half of the school’s figured it out.” Harry said, pausing before continuing. “Actually, no, that’s me overestimating the ability for ya average wand-waver to think critically.”

“You got any ideas for how to deal with them?” Moody asked.

“Of course I do. I have like, three different plans for all of them?”

“Good lad. Best be off then.”

After explaining the reason Moody was weird to his friends outside the greenhouses, having barely made it to class in time to not be late, Harry was left with one thought on his mind. Why was he invested enough to help him cheat? The question didn’t linger for very long, seeing as he still had to work on the poems that functioned as his Plan A.

“Hey Nev, you got any ideas on how I could deal with an air construct with an Athahn poem?”

“Uh… give me the rundown for the other three really quick.”

“Well, fire I’m just gonna lower the temperature till it dies. Ice, which they chose for water for some reason , I’m planning on doing the inverse. Earth, I’m thinking simulated erosion.”

“Oh, basically the opposite of what they are or, like, what stops them. What’s that but for wind?”

“Well, buildings and physical stuff is what lessens wind, but I don’t know geoturgy.”

“Well, Mro Athahn is all about symbolism, right? So what about the idea of buildings to kind of… trap the wind.”

“Oh my GOD! It’s so simple, yet elegant. You’re a genius, Nev.”

Harry was fairly confident the day of the First Task, if a little bit antsy to get it over with. Unfortunately, the Task wouldn’t be until after lunch, which meant he would be stuck going through the first half of lessons that day. It was only mildly torturous.

As soon as he set foot in the Great Hall, McGonagall rushed over to inform him of where he had to go, as well as to escort him there. As it turned out, said destination was a tent that had been built outside one of the entrances to the Quidditch Pitch. When he entered he saw Fleur in the corner, sitting on a stool, face pale yet determined. Krum looked… constipated, to be kind. When Cedric looked nervous, but not in the same way as Fleur. It was more like someone new to Hunting going on their first Hunt without a senior Hunter.

“Ah! Mr. Potter, come in, come in! Now that we’re all here, it’s time to fill you in!” Bagman called, pulling out a silk bag as he did so. “Now, when the audience has gathered, I’ll be offering each of you this bag, from which you’ll select a representation of what you’re about to face! Your task is to defeat your challenge and recover what’s left behind.”

As soon as Bagman finished talking, all that was left to do was wait. It was a mercifully short amount of time, though Harry did have to deal with hearing the pacing of Cedric and Fleur.

“Ladies first.” Bagman said, holding out the bag to Fleur.

Withdrawing her hand, Fleur held a ball that seemed to be a condensed piece of a storm, whirling and raging around itself, which she looked at with a look of resigned determination. The same held true for Krum when he withdrew a small mountain that floated and rotated in his hands. As Cedric pulled his hand out and saw the floating fireball in his hand, he looked a decent amount more nervous than before.

When Harry reached in he withdrew several spheres of water that flowed around his hand. He supposed it made sense he would get the ice construct. Ice was more dead than the other three, at least in the magical sense.

“Well, there you go then! Which element you pulled determines what order you go in according to the wizarding model! Now, I’ll have to leave in a minute because I’m commentating. Miss. Delacour, you’re first, just head into the enclosure when you hear a whistle. Mr. Potter… could I have a quick word?”

Harry just glared at him until he left. It wasn’t long until Fleur had to enter the Pitch, which, unfortunately, meant they were all stuck listening to the annoying gasps and exclamations of the audience. Which wasn’t made better by Bagman’s useless commentary. Really, how helpful a piece of commentary was “It’s a shame, fire was a good idea!” It took Fleur about thirteen minutes to beat her construct, which led to the scoring, which he didn’t call out.

After Fleur came Cedric, which followed much the same process, though Cedric took a decent while longer, finishing after twenty minutes. An understandable fact, given he was fighting literal fire. Krum took a while as well, though not quite as long as Cedric had, finishing at the sixteen-minute mark. After a little while, Harry heard the whistle blow.

Finally, it was his turn.

Chapter Text

As soon as the whistle blew, Harry pulled his staff out of his satchel and set it down so he could summon it from where he would enter the pitch. The rules said they could only enter with their wand, but they didn’t say anything about summoning another focus. Stepping out onto the field, he saw the reason it took a while for the whistle to blow. They had made the Pitch look like it was winter, with snow covering it. Well, that just made it easier for him.

“Well then, let’s get this over with.” Harry said, cracking his neck as he did. “Accio staff.”

The moment his staff slammed into his hand, the construct turned to look at him from where it had been floating. It started moving, but it didn’t get the opportunity to engage in combat, as Harry had already begun running up to it striking it with his staff as soon as he was in range, angling it just so that the other end drew the first part of the first glyph in his plan.

And so the dance began.

Whenever the construct tried to smash its icy fists against him, Harry blocked using the staff before following up with a hit of his own, while twirling the staff against the ground to continue on with the Song Dance he had devised. A few times he had managed to break off a few chunks of ice from the construct’s body, but they slowly grew back.

It was on the third repetition of the glyph set that there was a noticeable effect. Halfway through the glyph Solneer, the arena felt noticeably warmer, and Harry could see beads of water falling down the ice before refreezing. He didn’t like that his plan relied on going on the defensive, but the fact that it was working mollified him a bit.

Eventually, the heat got to be too much for the ice to fully freeze back up. Instead of turning back to ice, it became more of a sludge that Harry easily gouged through with his staff, going on the offensive with it, switching to using his feet to sketch out the glyphs instead. When all that was left were piles of icy sludge and a marked crystal. Picking it up, he headed into the medical tent to let Madam Pomfrey look him over. As it turned out, he had minor frostbite on his fingers.

When he returned to the field to get his scores, he looked up at the judges' table. Madame Maxine raised her wand out of which came a silver ribbon that bent into the shape of a seven. Crouch and Dumbledore gave him an eight. Bagman gave him a ten and Karkaroff gave him a five.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the First Task, seeing as he still had to hear Bagman talk more. When he entered, he saw the other three champions. Fleur and Cedric both had burn paste on various parts of their bodies, whereas Krum had raw-looking patches of just healed skin.

“Well done all of you! Now, a few words. You’ve a while until the next task, which is scheduled for the twenty-fourth of February at half-past nine. You won’t be stuck without something to think about, though! If you’ll look at the crystal cores of the constructs you fought, you’ll see that there are carvings on them. They are a clue for the Second Task! All I’ll say is that it’s planned to be based on Elizabeathan era magical thought!”

When he left the tent, he was greeted by the sight of his friends waiting for him, and Hermione’s complaints.

“You have a bad habit of performing untested magic.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t earth that I got ‘Mione. I was planning on simulating sped-up erosion. Mi amor, what did the others do to deal with their constructs?”

“Delacour tried to use fire at first, but that just turned it into a weird version of a fire whirl. She wound up beating it by creating localised pockets of high density air that she herded it into and scored a fourty. Diggory floundered a bit at first but wound up creating his own ice constructs and using cooling charms to kill it off. He scored 34 for the amount of burns. Krum made liberal use of gouging charms to cut away at it. He scored a 38.”

“Huh. Tied second. Not bad.”

“Hey Harry, what did it drop?”

“Hm? Oh, just this nifty crystal. ‘Parently it’s a clue for the next task. It’s based on Elizabeathan magical thought, so probably something Christian. Huh. There’s a weird amount of funerary symbols. Eh, I’ll think about it later. Right now, it’s nap time in the Clubroom.”

Chapter Text

It seemed that the Tournament had decided to infiltrate every aspect of his life. Harry only really realized that fact at the end of one of his Transfiguration lessons. He had been reading some of his notes about the Elizabethan systems of magical thought when he was interrupted by an announcement from McGonagall.

“I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, and an opportunity that allows us to socialize with our foreign guests. The Ball will be open to fourth years and above, though you may invite a younger student if you so wish. Dress robes are to be worn. It shall begin at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, and finish at midnight, in the Great Hall.”

At that, Harry internally groaned. It looked like his usual Christmas plans wouldn’t be happening.

“The Yule Ball is a chance to… let our hair down .” She continued, disapproval clear in her tone. “ That, however, does not mean we will be relaxing our behavioural standards. I will be most displeased if I see any student embarrass the school in any way. Mr. Potter, if you would stay behind?”

After the rest of the class had left, McGonagall spoke.

“Mr. Potter, the champions and their partners are the traditional openers of the Yule Ball.”

“Wait, I have to dance ?” Harry asked.

“Yes, you do, so you’d best work on getting a partner.”

When he left the class, he saw Neville waiting outside for him.

“What did McGonagall want?”

“I have to help open up the Yule Ball by dancing . In unrelated news, I’m considering summoning a crossroads demon.”

“No selling your soul to avoid dancing.”

Shortly after the Ball was announced, Harry was inundated with people trying to ask him to go with them, some of them even being second years! In an effort to avoid the date requests, he took to spending most of his time in the Clubroom that they had been refurbishing. It was during such a period that Luna spoke up from the corner she was sitting in, reading.

“You’ve been spending more time than usual here.”

“That’s ‘cause a crap ton of people keep asking me to go to the ball with them.”

“Do you know who you’re going to go with?”

“I dunno. I figured Blaise and I were gonna go together.”

It was then that the rest of their little Monster Club entered the room.

“That would be because we are, meraviglia. You will need to learn how to dance though. You’d be a travesty otherwise.”

“I take it you two are finally making it official then?”

“Making what official, ‘Mione?”

“Your relationship?”

“Wait, what? What relationship?"

“Harry, you and Blaise have basically been dating since, like, second year.”

“Huh. I guess we have. Cool. You guys have dates?”

As it turned out, Neville and Luna did, though Hermione was planning on going by herself. Neville was apparently going with Susan Bones, whilst Luna was going with Tracey Davis. After that, Harry checked out of the conversations that carried on, looking at the crystal clue he had collected. The engravings were definitely funerary symbols, though the specific collection of symbols didn’t match up with any of the notes he had gone through on Elizabethan magic.

“Y’know, it’s a longshot but Dee is a possibility. It might be worth a try.” Harry muttered to himself, before closing his eyes and doing seemingly nothing for a few seconds.

“Hey Sabrina!”

“Hey, Loke.” Harry said, tossing some licorice at him as he did. “Got a question for ya.”

“Shoot.”

“Any of this look like somethin’ Dee would’ve used?” Harry asked, chucking the crystal to him as he did.

“Uh, hang on.” Gabriel said, before pocketing the packet of licorice he’d been snacking on. “Dee specifically? Nah, not really, none of this really screams angel which was his whole deal, even managed to contact a few footsoldiers-”

“I’m sorry, did you just imply that angels are real ?”

“Uh, yeah, they are. Did Houdini not mention that?”

“No. I didn’t. On account of not wanting to, and also so you could mess with them eventually.”

“Oh. Well, let me introduce myself properly. Trickster extraordinaire, the pagan god Loki, and the one, the only, Archangel Gabriel. Huh, didn’t expect her to faint. Anyway, there’s nothin’ here that screams angel, but there are symbols of the Horsemen.”

“Sorry, what ?”

“Yeah, a bow, a sword, scales and a scythe. Pestilence, War, Famine and Death.”

“Oh for… well, at least I can plan for the next Task now. While you’re here, mind giving me a hint about the mysterious third item I need to collect?”

“Hm. Sure, why not? Look up the Peverell family. I’m gonna go torment some Hunters this side of the pond.” Gabriel said before popping away.

Chapter Text

It was as he was sitting down at the Ravenclaw table that Harry finally got his first message from Sirius.

“Hey guys, Pads finally learnt how to text!”

“What does it say meraviglia?”

“Uh… congrats on the task, says he would have done something flashier and to keep an eye out for whoever entered me. Ugh, he really needs autocorrect. I’m gonna reply real quick. ‘Hey Pads, took ya long enough to figure out texting, yes I know you’re a theatre kid, I know.’ Anyway, now that that’s out the way, I’m probably a little outta the loop on the latest gossip, so ya mind regaling me darl’?”

Looking up from where he had been reading Blaise spoke.

“Well, besides the contingent that thinks you cheated your way into the Tournament, Warrington’s contingent has subdivided into two groups. The first thinks you cheated your way in on your own and the other believes you to be a secret Dark Lord with an inside agent. Similarly, Tracey and Theodore’s contingent have subdivided. Theodore’s side believes that Voldemort is the root cause for your entry, whereas Tracey’s believes it to be an unknown third party. Rita Skeeter has been having tantrums via articles ever since you declined an interview. I do believe that’s it.”

“Thanks sweetheart. Now, I need to head to the library. I’ve been making my way through the Artifacts section in the Library ever since Gabe showed up.” Harry said, giving Blaise a peck on the cheek before leaving.

Unfortunately for Harry, he hadn’t managed to make much progress in his research before winter break hit and, with it, Madam Pince heading off for a family reunion. In practically a blink of an eye, it was Christmas. When Harry woke, it was to a relatively small pile of presents, a given seeing as most of the people who might have sent him gifts were in the castle. The only surprise was that he had been sent a gift by Frank’s friend, and his email pen pal, Bobby Singer. Frank had sent him a pair of keys with nothing but a note that told him not to ask until the end of the year. Harry sent him a bottle of Fire whiskey that the Weasley Twins had smuggled in for him. Sirius had sent him a collection of mixtapes with a note saying that they were made by Lily for all of her friends during her seventh year. Harry sent him a necklace that would make him look like a different person whenever he put it on.

The surprise gift was a collection of copies of some of Bobby’s files with a note that said, ‘For ya database ya idjit.’ Unfortunately, given he hadn’t expected the gift, Harry hadn’t gotten him anything.

As soon as Harry set foot in the Great Hall, he sighed internally, seeing Gabriel at the Ravenclaw table.

“I take it you have a reason to be here?” Harry asked as he sat down.

“Aw, can I not just visit the only Hunter who doesn’t try to kill me?” He asked, adopting a faux-innocent look.

“No, Gabe, you can’t. So, is it just dessert’s or is it a potentially ominous item?”

“Come on, not everything I do is ominous.”

“Yeah, about a quarter of it is normal god stuff.”

“Y’know what? Fair. Anyway, catch!” He replied, tossing another ring at Harry.

Catching it, Harry took a moment to examine it. The band appeared to be a rather plain inlay made of a silvery-blue metal. He would have thought it was zinc if it weren’t for the physical resilience when he clenched it in his fist. The inlay itself looked to be made of aquamarine and palladium, forming a delicate pattern of feathers.

“Alright, what’s the deal with the ring?”

“Why’s the ring gotta have a deal?”

“Gabe, need I remind you about the ominous death ring?”

“You’re no fun today, ya know that?”

“Don’t care, what’s up with the ring?”

“It’s kinda a favor for your eventual boss. If you wear it you’ll be able to do a worse version of angelic flight.”

“That… sounds like apparition.”

“Yeah, where did ya think the wand wavers got the idea Sabrina? Anyway, with that ya won’t get the ass nausea that comes with your teleportation.”

Luckily for Harry, he had anticipated Gabriel popping in and had managed to bribe some of the húsvættir to let him bake mini triple-choc cakes, though he had adjusted the recipe to make sure there was an absolutely ludicrous amount of sugar in the recipe. For the majority of the day, Harry spent his time in the Clubroom, reading his notes on triplicate artifacts, thoroughly annoyed by the lack of hints from Gabriel and the sheer volume of historical triplicate artifacts.

It was half six that he resignedly put the books he was reading back in their proper places before heading up to his dorm to start getting ready for the Ball. Under more normal circumstances he wouldn’t have started so early, given he didn’t particularly care about getting dressed up, but he really would rather avoid embarrassing Blaise. It was just as he’d managed to style his curls into not looking horrendous that the other fourth years entered the dorm. It was as he finished buckling the gambeson that was part of his dress robes that he saw Ron’s outfit.

“Uh… ya want some help there Ron?”

“Please! Anything is better than this! I look like my Great-Aunt Muriel.”

Walking over to Ron, Harry pulled his wand out and started circling around him, waving his wand. When he was done, Ron looked less like a sixteenth-century squire and more like he was only a hundred years behind the trending fashion.

“Right, it won’t hold forever, but it should last till midnight. Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have to head to the Entrance Hall.”

It was in the Entrance Hall that Harry managed to learn who the partner of one of the Champions was. More specifically, Fleur had taken Roger Davies with her, though if Davies’ expression was to be believed her breasts were his date. He didn’t have to wait long to see Blaise, given he was watching the stairs to spot him.

Where Harry’s robes were a modern wizarding twist on medieval bardic clothing styles, Blaise had gone for robes that gave a modern twist to medieval courtier robes. In contrast to the rather dark, desaturated colors in Harry’s outfit, Blaise’s was far lighter, though far from pastel.

“You look gorgeous, mi amor.” Harry said, walking up to him and hooking their arms together.

“The same could be said for yourself, meraviglia. I see you managed to tame your hair for once.”

“Mm. Took forever as well. Nothing left but to wait.”

Not much later, amongst the throngs of students, Harry managed to spot Cedric who was holding the hand of Cho Chang. It was roughly twenty minutes later that the Durmstrang contingent made their appearance, with Krum at their head and Daphne Greengrass holding his arm.

It was at that moment that McGonagall called out, “Champions, over here please!”

Walking off from their friends and their respective dates, Harry whispered to Blaise, “Well. Into the belly of the beast.”

Chapter Text

It was only after everyone else had entered the Great Hall and settled themselves down and they had been arranged into lined-up pairs that the Champions were allowed to enter the Great Hall. Predictably everyone in the Hall began applauding when they entered. Looking around as he walked up to the judges' table, where the Champions and their dates would be sitting, Harry examined the changes to the Hall.

Most notable was the lack of the House tables. In their place were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit tables with room to sit about twelve people. Beyond that the walls had been covered in a thin layer of silvery frost across the walls and floor evidently charmed given the lack of sliding around when waking. Strung from the walls and across the ceiling were icicles of varying lengths and garlands of mistletoe and ivy.

Seated at the judges' table were, unsurprisingly, the judges. Dumbledore looked rather happy to be at the ball, a sharp contrast to Karkaroff, who looked like a fresh Hunter confronted with the aftermath of a shifter changing its shape. Next to Karkaroff was Bagman who seemed to think the theme of the evening was tacky colors if the bright purple and luminescent yellow stars were anything to go by. Thankfully, the faux pas was mitigated by the dusty lilac silk gown that Madame Maxine was wearing. The surprise at the table was Percy sitting where Crouch would have sat.

As they reached the table, Harry opted to sit next to the only person nominally in his age range. Sitting down, Harry was the first to speak.

“Hey Percy, what’re ya doing back here?”

“I’ve been promoted to Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant. I’m representing the Department in his stead tonight.”

“Oh, was there a reason he couldn’t come himself?” Harry asked, feigning concern.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Crouch has been  feeling rather poorly recently, he’s not been quite right since the World Cup, though it’s hardly a surprise. He’s quite overworked, what with the effort in organizing the World Cup, the fiasco after that and the fallout, Skeeter certainly didn’t help and then there was organizing everything for the Triwizard Tournament. He’s decided he’s finally earned a quiet Christmas at home and I must say I’m quite glad he knew he has someone he can rely on in the office.”

Tuning out the conversation that Percy was somehow managing to maintain with himself as the sole participant, Harry turned to his own thoughts, privately thinking falling ill couldn’t have happened to a better asshole as he perused the menu on his plate before ordering a Hungarian Goulash. As he was eating he managed to catch the end of something Fleur was saying.

“-eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, ‘e  would be expelled like zat!”

“Y’know I tried to do that when I first got here but Sir Nicholas, Gryffindor’s House Ghost, told me not to until I was approached to do it.”

“At least someone agrees zat it is a travesty!”

“Yeah, I would say more chaotic mess than travesty but I was curious why I had to be approached instead of just doing it and turns out it’d be, like, super illegal.”

“’ow would zat be illegal?”

“Yeah, so, someone registered him with The Twilight Council, which is a self-governance group for any ghosts that fall in the British Ministry of Magic’s territory, like, three years after he popped up so the only way to deal with him is if a member approaches someone.”

It wasn’t much later that Dumbledore, along with the rest of the Hall’s residents stood up from where they were sitting. As Dumbledore sent the tables to the walls he conjured a raised platform at the back of the Hall which was quickly populated by a collection of various instruments with the Weird Sisters taking the stage not long after.

Standing with the rest of the champions, Harry and Blaise took to the dance floor as the Weird Sisters struck up a slow, slightly mournful tune, perfect for a slow waltz. The dance wasn’t quite as torturous an experience as he had been expecting, it was rather pleasant, in fact. As the first song began to wind to a close the rest of the Hall’s residents took to the dance floor as the band seamlessly transitioned to a faster-paced song.

As he and Blaise moved to the refreshments table, Harry saw Neville and Susan dancing near the outskirts of the floor. It was certainly stilted, though at least neither of them were stepping on the other’s feet, and both looked to be enjoying themselves. Luna and Tracey, in contrast, appeared to trying to start a two-person rave, mosh pit combo. It was at the table where they found Hermione again, standing by and watching the dance floor.

“So, what’s the deal with Greengrass? I’ve only seen her talk to, like, three people.” Harry asked Hermione.

“Hm? Oh, that. I asked Tracey and apparently it’s a powerplay. You know Draco? Well apparently they hate each other so she decided to get a date with a Champion to show she’s better than him.”

“Remind me, who’s Draco again?”

“The pointy looking blond, darling.”

“Oh, ferret-face. Ya know what? I don’t blame her. Anyway, not to sound like an asshole, but what’ve you been doing while everyone’s dancing ‘Mione?”

“Gathering data.”

“Uh, what?”

“You’ve seen the studies on the detriments of House System based schooling right?”

“No, ‘Mione, I haven’t. Believe it or not, but I don’t read psych papers in my spare time.”

“You really shoud, they're fascinating. That's besides the point, however, the point being studies have shown that they can cause higher levels of student isolation and in the case of perceived hierarchy can increase bullying. Given that the Hogwarts Houses are based upon telepathically extracted personality traits at age thirteen I was curious if the same holds true for magical folk.”

“Hermione, how long have you been gathering this data? And are the rest of us a part of it?”

“Hm? Oh, I’ve been taking notes since first year. Also, of course you are, I’ve also included the differences I’ve noticed in myself. I’ve been using our year as the control group, seeing as I would be less aware of those changes, due to desensitization.”

“Well, Blaise and I are gonna leave you to your probably unethical study, seeing as the band is finally playing something more my taste. Shall we, darl’?”

Once more taking to the dance floor, Harry and Blaise began dancing less formally than before, and more along the lines of an impromptu swing dance. An appropriate style of dance, given the odd fusion of swing music and rock that the Weird Sisters had begun to play. As it turned out, when it wasn’t a song that sounded like it would fit at a funeral, dancing at a ball was actually somewhat fun.

The rest of the night progressed rather similarly to how it began, taking breaks from dancing, talking to friends and catching up with acquaintances.

One such example would be when the Weasley Twins approached the duo when they were taking a break from dancing.

“Why, Harrikins, you and our fair Italian gentleman here wouldn’t happen to have finally formally started dating, would you?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna guess you have money to claim from bets?”

“Why, of course we do our spiffy spectral schoolmate. Quite a bit of it as well.”

“Okay, if you’re gonna make money on my love life ya gotta tell me how much ya made.”

“Eight hundred galleons, give or take. Most of the castle had bets on how long it would take, what time of the year, yada, yada, yada.”

“Goddamn! Well, y’all are definitely in the clear on your bet with Bagman.”

“Oh, absolutely, but we’re still going after him. It’s a matter of honour at this point.”

Beyond the other members of the Monster Club and their dates, the night passed without any other people coming up to the couple.

It was as he was lying in his bed, just before midnight, that Harry remembered a tiny tidbit about the history of the Second Task for the Tournament.

“Shit.”

Chapter Text

The following day most of the castle was still asleep when Harry was awake, along with the rest of his friends, cozied up in the Clubroom.

“’Mione, you wouldn’t happen to still have the research on the history of the Tasks, would you?”

“I think it’s somewhere in my files.” She replied, moving to a small filing cabinet near her enchanting nook.

“Let’s see, T, Titans, Tectonics, Telemetry, Tournaments, Triwizard… there we are! Tournaments  – Triwizard – History – Tasks!” She exclaimed, handing the manilla folder to Harry.

“Thanks, ‘Mi. Let’s see, Second Task. 1494 was a… suitor, 1499 had a sister, 1504 a mother, 1509 was a… nephew… 1514 was an uncle. Welp, looks like I was right.”

“About what, meraviglia?”

“One of y’all are gonna be fake-kidnapped.”

“I’m sorry, what love?”

“Well, I was dozing off last night and I remembered a part of the research we did on the Tasks, and figured that, since they kept the Enemy of The Champion aspect of the First Task, they were probably gonna keep core elements of the others.”

“An understandable assumption.” Neville called over, from the beanbag he was sitting on.

“I vaguely remembered something about kidnappings, and ta-da! I was correct. The Theft of The Dearest. The judges are gonna take, according to a clue from the 1792 Tournament, 'what you’ll sorely miss'.”

“Oh, I remember that one!” Hermione exclaimed, hurrying back to the filing cabinet “I think I have Task paperwork for that year! Let me see Triwizard, Clerical, Setup… AHA! Let’s see here… damn it.”

“Bad news?”

“Mhm. Judicial Discretion, apparently. Any idea who they might choose?”

“Any of you four, that’s for certain. Frank’s up there. If he thought it was funny, Gabe. Uh… yeah, no, that’s about it.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to stay on our toes.”

“Uh, weird phrasing Lue, but yeah. Now,” Harry said, unentangling himself from where he was lounging across Blaise’s lap “I have to go bother Diggory so he’ll let me have a look at his clue.”

As it turned out, the Hufflepuff common room was outfitted with quite a robust defense system. Harry found that out when he was drenched in vinegar while trying to get in.

“Who is i- oh. Potter. What do you want?”

“Ernest.” Harry replied, peeling his soaking flannel off. “Would you mind telling Cedric I need to talk to him?”

“Oh, so you can sabotage him? Yeah right.”

“Macmillan, I’m a fourth year, do you really think I’d be able to beat a sixth year? I need to talk to him about the Tournament.”

“Fine. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

It took a while for Cedric to actually exit the wall of barrels, presumably being badgered by Macmillan to not go outside.

“Hey, Harry. Sorry if  Ernie gave you any grief. I could get rid of the vinegar for you, as an apology, if you wanted?”

“That would be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

“So, Ernie says you wanted to talk to me?” Cedric asked, after knocking a tune on the barrel Harry had knocked on.

“Yeah, do you have your clue with you?”

“Uh, yeah, I was busy trying to figure out what the hell it means. The hint that they gave us was kinda crap. It really doesn’t match anything I’ve read about.”

“Mind letting me have a look? I wanna test a theory.”

When Cedric handed over the fiery red crystal, one primary aspect stood out. Though the symbols of the Horseman were still present, the overwhelming majority of it was covered in iconographic representations of weapons, in comparison to the funerary symbols on Harry’s.

“I was right. You’ve got War.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re gonna be facing off against simulacra of the Four Horsemen. Hang on, let me just-“ Harry said, handing the crystal back to Cedric and detaching and enlarging the charm attached to his left earring. “Ya see the quartet of symbols in the middle?”

“Yeah, I thought it was odd , what with the weaponry being so dominant.”

“Yeah, well, they’re the main symbols used to represent the Four Horsemen of the Christian Apocalypse. Mine has funerary symbols, thus Death. Yours has weaponry, thus War.” Harry said, reattaching the now shrunken crystal to his earring.

“So, what would Fleur and Krum have?”

“They’re probably trying to be weird and poetic about it. War and Fire are both indiscriminately destructive, Ice is comparatively dead compared to the other manifestations of Water. If I had to guess, Krum would get famine and Fleur would get Pestilence.”

“Why are you helping me? We’re meant to be competitors.”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s just a side-effect. I mostly wanted to see if I was right. Oh, by the way, the Twins told me you owe them money from the school-wide bet on my love life, so I’ve gotta know, how wrong were you?”

“I was banking on it being a dramatic realization and kiss as you were about to board the boats for the Graduation Ceremony.”

“Oh. My. God. That is so cliché! I didn’t know you were a fan of romcoms! ‘Cus that’s what that sounds like.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. Before you leave, anymore bits of advice?”

“Uh… yeah, look into the history of the Tasks. Now, to see if Nev knows how to play Blackjack… see ya ‘Dric!”

Chapter Text

Harry was of the opinion that he could be excused for being more than slightly distracted from figuring out who had entered him into the death tournament he was busy with. Given the relative downtime he now had, it seemed pertinent to give Sirius a call, to check if he knew anything about the new foreign dignitaries or Moody.

“Hey Pads, how’s it going?”

“Harry! Here I was thinking you’d forgotten me, receiving naught but messages!”

“I get it, you’re a theatre kid, now can ya answer the question?”

“Fine. Things are pretty okay over on my end. That glamor necklace you got me is a lifesaver! I managed to get my old apartment back, so I’m not running around the country trying to hide.”

“How’d you get a place to stay without using your actual name?”

“Oh, that was easy. I ran away from my folks at… about 16 , I think, during the annual Christmas Social they held. Wound up staying with your grandparents. Anyway, Lily was talking to us then, we’d finally calmed down a bit, so I got her help to set up a fake identity in the Muggle world. Sirius Black never really existed in the Muggle world, Castor Roth, however, does.”

“Huh. Anyway, I did have a reason for calling you, beyond a catch up. I’ve been meaning to ask you about a few people, first up is one Igor Karkaroff.”

“Well, Karkaroff was a Death Eater, he was arrested at the end of the war. Went to Azkaban for, oh must have been a week or two. Wound up managing to get a retroactive plea deal by selling out other Death Eaters, ‘course most of them were either arrested or dead before he named them, but he got a good one. Crouch’s son. Died about a month after he got ferried in.” Harry heard over the phone, writing down the salient points.

“Next is Olympe Maxime.”

“Mm, I’m not gonna be able to help ya there. All I know about her is that she’s the Head for Beauxbatons.”

“Damn. You got anything on Alastor Moody?”

“Ugh. Fantastic Auror, but the most hardheaded asshole you’ll ever meet. He was the Head Auror for the DMLE, occasionally pitched in to help train the Hit Wizards-"

"Uh, Pads, what the fuck is a Hit Wizard?"

"Uh, think, like, emergency responder police officers. Anyway, I never really saw him all that much in the Academy but the few times I did he was just… the most annoying and tactless person I’ve ever met. Which is saying something, 'cus I've met myself! Definitely don’t get on his bad side though. You will be a few chunks less by the end of it.”

“And to think, the man’s a professor. Anyway, thanks for the chat Pads, gotta go, talk later.”

Having finally checked off that specific item on his mental to-do list, the next item on the list was the Second Task. Primarily, where it would be taking place. The first port of call would have been to ask Blaise, but he would have told him if he’d heard any rumors. Naturally, that left the other champions. The trouble was, which to approach?

When he really thought about it, Harry realized there was only one viable option. He couldn’t go to Cedric, given the recency of the favor Harry had asked of him. He knew next to nothing about Krum, lacking any form or rapport as a result. Altogether, Fleur was the obvious choice.

“Excuse me, Miss Delacour, might I have a word?”

“I suppose it could not hurt, Mr. Potter. What do you wish to speak of?”

“Have you… heard any rumors, shall we say, about where the Second Task is going to take place?”

“Perhaps I have, perhaps I have not. I may reveal such with… sufficient reason.”

“Hm, so that’s how we’re doing this. I might know a key part of the Task, though, without some information, I can’t say for certain”

“Hmph. Well played, Harry. Apparently it will take place in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Hah! Home turf advantage! Anyway, same to you Fleur. Now to hold up my end. Based off the Tournament history, they’re gonna wind up using whoever they think you hold most dear as a hostage.”

“Mon Dieu! Surely not? Especially with the… opposition.”

“Yeah, having them guarded by Horsemen constructs is… one of the more egregious examples of stupidity they’ve had so far.”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that could be said about Harry Potter, along with his friends, it was a preference for a routine. For instance, waking up at half past five in the morning, allowing a brief exercise period, along with ample time to dress and assess the warding of his bed, and finish packing his bag.

So, it was rather concerning when, on the twenty-fourth of February, there was a person missing from the Great Hall.

“Hey, ‘Mione, where’s Blaise?”

“You know, I’m not altogether certain. I think Professor Flitwick asked to see him in his office yesterday.”

“Well, that solves the question of who they decided to take for the task.”

“Well, that seems a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”

“’Mione. Blaise is always in the Great Hall by a quarter to seven. The only time he wasn’t was when he had the flu last year.”

“Perhaps he slept in?”

“Mm, no. He’s conditioned himself to wake up at half five. He has a very in depth morning routine.”

“Touche.”

It wasn’t all that much longer until the time for the actual Task was at hand, with the Champions being escorted down to the Forest, where a large pavilion-like structure had been built.

When they reached the actual structure itself, Bagman directed the Champions to all stand near himself, along with Percy, who was filling in once more for Crouch.

“So! Now that we’re all here, we can explain the rest of what you need to know about the Task! By now, you’ve figured out the clue you got at the end of the First Task, so you know what you’ll be up against in the end, but what you don’t know is that, as motivation, we’ve taken what you’ll –“

“Don’t you mean who?” Harry asked, attaching a machete, held within its sheath, to a belt loop.

“Well, that, uh, that was supposed to be a surprise…” Bagman gulped, nervously watching as Harry pulled his staff out of his satchel. “I feel like I should object to your… weapons.”

“Well then, Director Bagman, you didn’t do a very good job of keeping it a fucking secret, seeing as the history books, oh, I don’t know, mention the Tasks! Oh, and you wouldn’t have any grounds to object, seeing as there was no information, in the rules or provided at the beginning of this Task, or the end of the previous one, that bars the use of mundane weaponry. Now, can we get this charade started? I have a boyfriend to rescue.”

After that, Bagman handed each of the Champions an enchanted compass that would point in the general direction they had to go before he turned to the crowd, announcing the Task before counting down to the whistle being blown.

Looking at the black and blue stone compass he had been handed, Harry turned around, to determine which end of the needle was the one pointing to Blaise’s location. With that determined, he set off into the Forest, a little later than the rest of the Champions.

Given that he had explored the Forest rather extensively in years past, it took a while for Harry to encounter his first obstacle, but when he did, it was suitably horrific, given his overall luck.

It was, yet again, a group of five acromantula. Thankfully for Harry, given his prior encounter with the creatures, he had learned a few spells to help mask his scent, allowing him to sneak around the spiders, in addition to an application of the Smokescreen Spell.

It seemed the group of acromantula was merely the dam holding back the rest of the obstacles. Most of them were rather small in size and easily dispatched, though there were occasionally a few that he discreetly snuck past, given that they seemed rather more challenging to deal with.

It was shortly after a narrowly avoided incursion on the centaur Eminence’s territory that the stone compass he had been following began to glow with a spring green light, four scythes appearing in that same light at the four points of the rim.

“Well, guess I’m headed in the right direction.”

As he continued on, the rim began to be filled with more symbols, chief amongst them being the hourglass and the theta nigrum. It was just as the gravestones on the compass became visible that Harry noticed a crumbling archway.

“Well, guess there’s only one way to go.”

As he passed through the archway, Harry noticed three things immediately. The mass amount of gravestones in the crumbling amphitheater, the skeletal rider upon a pale horse, and Blaise, tied to a pillar with chains.

Reaching out with his right hand, the one upon which Gabriel’s gifts sat, Harry twisted his hand, forming a fist and spoke one word.

“Kneel.”

Jerkily, with each motion looking as though it were a full rigor corpse trying to move, the horse knelt down, its rider haltingly dropping its scythe and bowing to him.

Walking up to the facsimile of the Horseman, Harry gave it a dispassionate look before pulling the skull from the vertebrae.

“Pale indeed.” He scoffed, throwing the skull to the side before hurrying over to where Blaise was, picking the lock on the chains with the picks Frank had gotten him the previous year.

“Blaise, mi vida, are you awake? Please be awake, please be awake.”

“Harry, meraviglia, I am, in fact, conscious.”

“Oh thank God, you’re okay! Did your mum sign off on this? ‘Cus if she didn’t, she’ll be pissed.”

“I… I don’t actually know. Now, would you mind telling me where we are?”

“The Forbidden Forest. You were chosen as my hostage. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

As it turned out, he and Blaise were the second set to have returned, the first being Krum and a small boy who looked to be his brother. Fleur came back shortly after, a small blonde girl clinging to her side, with Cedric and Cho being the last to arrive.

After conferring for a bit, Bagman magnified his voice to announce the points.

“Viktor Krum, though he damaged the arena, was first to arrive with his hostage and demonstrated tenacity and excellent charms work in the Forbidden Forest, and against his Horseman, Famine. We award him fourty points.”

A loud round of applause followed, led by Karkaroff.

“Harry Potter was the second to retrieve his hostage and was the quickest to defeat his Horseman, Death, though used little magic during the obstacle aspect of the Task. We award him fourty points.”

Harry just scoffed from behind Blaise, who he was holding protectively, chin propped on his shoulder.

“Fleur Delacour was third to retrieve her hostage and quickest to make her way to her hostage, though took the longest to beat her Horseman, Pestilence. We award her thirty-five points.”

Which was followed by a smattering of applause, with a few whistles interspersed.

“Cedric Diggory was last to retrieve his hostage, and took the longest to find his hostage, but was the only Champion to work out the locking mechanism of the restraints. We award him thirty points.”

“The third and final task shall take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. The Champions will be notified of the details a month beforehand.”

Whatever else Bagman was saying, Harry was ignoring as he and Blaise moved over to their friends.

“So, we’re all spending the night in the Clubroom, right?” Neville asked.

“Oh, without question. Even if it is just to make sure no one else tries to kidnap any of us.” Harry answered. “Be warned mi vida, I’m a hugger when I sleep.”

“Oh, goodness me, what a hardship. Being cuddled to sleep by my boyfriend. Oh well, such are the sacrifices I make.” Blaise sighed, with theatrical disappointment.

“Ooh, we could make it a movie night!” Hermione exclaimed.

The conversation soon devolved into explaining what movies everyone liked, arguing over the genre (Harry was arguing in favor of a horror. Luna and Hermione were arguing psychological thriller, where Neville and Blaise were arguing sci-fi) and questioning when Hermione had modified a projector.

Chapter Text

What with the length of time between the end of the Second Task and the next task taking place, Harry suddenly found himself in possession of far more free time. As such, he was once more researching triplicate artifact sets. It was a weekend that found the Monster Club in their self-made Clubroom, in their entirety. It was also a weekend that found itself a rather irate Harry throwing a notebook on a desk.

“Mi amore, what’s the matter?” Blaise asked from where he was working on his arithmancy project.

“It’s that damn hint Gabe gave me! Do you know how many triplicate artifacts there are in history? It’s a lot! It’s even more annoying because of how many don’t have recorded crafters!”

“Well, Gabriel said to look into artifacts made by the Peverell’s didn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah, but Lue, there are so many artifacts that have been attributed to the Peverell family, even if there's no evidence, so ya know.”

“Well, what did he give you?”

“This ring. The one with the fancy stone.”

Luna looked at it consideringly before she hummed and spoke again.

“Are you sure it’s not the stone that’s the artifact?”

“Uh, not really. Plus, he said I only had to get one more piece and the only thing that’s really an artifact that I own would be my Cloak so… why are pulling that face?”

“You don’t think…”

“Blaise, darl’ mind cluing me in?”

“I’m fairly certain I know what the last item you need to get is.”

“Please, explain.”

“Have you heard of the Deathly Hallows, and The Tale of The Three Brothers?”

“Uh, no. No, I have not. I take it this is relevant?”

“It will be. The details of the story vary from family to family, but the story is largely the same.” Luna answered, repositioning herself so that she could create visuals as she spoke

“Once, long ago, there were three brothers, travelling along a lonely path at twilight. In time, they came upon a wide gorge, formed by a deep river. Though it had claimed many lives, the three brothers were no simple travellers. Instead, they were well learned magicians.”

“The three, as one, channelled their magic, forming a grand bridge to cross the rapids. Before they could reach further than midway, the three were accosted by an apparition. Out from the aether came a cloaked figure, face inscrutable and voice like the whisper of the autumn leaves.”

“The cloaked figure, who the three recognized as Death itself, spoke to them. Though angered at their circumvention of its plan, for the rapid torrent of water had claimed many lives in the past, it recognized their talent in the arts arcane and, in a ploy, offered them each a prize of their choosing.”

“The eldest brother, Antioch, was a combative man, and a hubristic braggart, and so he asked for a wand. One more powerful than all others, a tool and weapon worthy of one who had bested that which comes for all. Death, in its cleverness, acquiesced, and formed, from the branch of an elder tree, such a wand, giving it to Antioch, who went on his way.”

“The second brother, Cadmus, was a proud and arrogant man, yet also prone to melancholy and grief. In his arrogance, and his fear, he asked for that which all others would envy. A stone, with which to summon those erstwhile souls that resided in the House beyond life. Death, seeing the truth, for none can deceive that which lies at the end of all, gifted Cadmus such a stone.”

“And finally, the youngest brother, Ignotus, was to select his gift. Having seen his brothers, and the consequences their follies brought about, he was more humble than his elder kin, and wiser for learning from their falls. In his wisdom, he did not trust the honeyed words of that immutable force which all shall kneel before, and so asked for a gift that would hide him from Death. With seeming reluctance, Death shed its outer cloak, and handed it to the shrewd man.”

“In time, the brothers parted ways. Antioch, in his hubris, sought a village, where lived a man whom he had quarrelled with. Armed with the mighty gift he had earned, his opponent stood no chance and soon lay dead on the ground, his blood spilled about himself. Filled with such self-conceit, Antioch went to the village tavern, boasting of his invincibility, having won his wand from Death. That night, however, would be his last, for as he slumbered, wine-sodden and pride-drunk, a fellow who took umbrage to him and his pride slit his throat, and claimed his wand.”

“And thus, was the first claimed by Death.”

“Cadmus, however, in his turn, arrived at his home, the halls as cold as the stones from which they were built. Here, in his empty home, by his untended hearth, consumed by his grief, he withdrew the stone he had won. Turned thrice, he found his heart swelling with joy, for before him was the woman to whom he had been engaged, struck down by illness before they could wed.”

“Present though she was, she was as cold and silent as his home. Though she had been brought forth, across the veil, she did not belong and longed to return to her peace. Driven mad by grief and sorrow, Cadmus swore that he would join her, so they might never be parted again.”

“And thus, was the second claimed by Death.”

“Finally, came the third. Ignotus. Though long lived, a cloak that has strength enough to hide one from Death, will hide one from others to far greater a degree than perhaps desired. In time, however, he came to meet his wife, and have a child. And, as he passed on his cloak to his son, so too did Ignotus himself pass on. And so too, did Death claim the third.”

“I take it there’s more to the story than that?”

“Of course, every story has a kernel of truth to it. In this case, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus were real people. They were all born around the turn of the century, with Ignotus being born in 1214. Antioch met his end much like he did in the tale, though Cadmus went on to marry, after his first fiancée died, though he never truly moved past his first love.”

“Ignotus’ life went much the same as the tale. Currently, there are only two living, in one sense of the word, descendants of the Peverell’s.”

“Those would be?”

“You and Tom Riddle.”

“So, how does this tie into what Gabe told me?”

“Cadmus’ children became the Gaunt family. The Gaunt’s were known to have a unique ring, one that they passed from firstborn son to firstborn son, but it wasn’t always a ring. It was once a stone.”

“What about Ignotus?”

“He had a son, who had a daughter. Iolanthe. She wound up marrying Hardwin Potter the Second. According to records about the Potters, when Iolanthe and Hardwin’s son turned nineteen, she gave him an unknown cloak. One made of a fabric like quicksilver, and smooth to the touch.”

“Which would be my Cloak. What about the wand then?”

“The Elder Wand is harder to track. It fell out of public view for a while, but wound up coming back into the public with Emeric the Evil. It changed hands every few decades, from Dark Lord to Dark Lord. Eventually, it came to be owned by a wandsmith, by the name of Gregorovitch. He was burglarized shortly after by one Gellert Grindelwald.”

“It was in his duel against Albus Dumbledore that he was seen using a famous, raven skull adorned wand. The exact same one now wielded by Dumbledore.”

“So, I have to figure out how to steal the Headmaster’s wand?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Well. Fuck.”

Chapter Text

“Blaise, darl’, you’ve been taking notes on Moody right?”

“Of course, I have dossiers on every professor in the past twenty years, I’d be rather concerned if I didn’t have any notes on him.”

“Any notes that stand out? I keep trying to find him on the Map, but it has zero UI aspects and it’s literally an entire castle.”

“Quite a bit stands out, though the oddest is he habitually drinks from his hip flask every hour on the hour.”

“So, probably not an alcoholic like I thought. Anyone got any ideas?”

“Well, that sounds a lot like various potions. There are quite a few that have hour long effects. There’s the Invigoration Draught, the Cough Potion, a variation on the Oculus Potion, the Atlantic Elixir which helps deal with the Atlantis Complex, and quite a few more medicinal potions.” Hermione commented from where she was reading a rather thick tome.

“There’s also Polyjuice Potion.” Luna piped up.

“What, Many Juice Potion?”

“No, but I do wonder what that would taste like. It’s more like Polymorph-juice Potion

“So, it’s either magic Monster, medication, or someone else who’s pretending to be Moody. I do not  like the odds. Any chance we could get the flask to test it?”

“Unfortunately, no. The Twins tried to get Zacharias to break into his rooms, but he failed and wouldn’t stop moaning about both the detentions and how unnecessarily complicated the wards were.”

“Eh, worth a shot.”

The next week was the beginning of the summer term and thus the next instance of the Triwizard Tournament being an utter nuisance, seeing as he had to go to the Quidditch Pitch of all places, at nine pm. Honestly, had none of the organizers heard about being reasonable?

As he was crossing the Entrance Hall, he came across Cedric leaving at the same time.

“Oh, hey ‘Dric. What d’ya think the task is gonna be?”

“Honestly? No clue. Fleur kept going on about underground tunnels, something about a treasure hunt? What about you, any idea about the era of thought?”

“I would say Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, or Thelema, but that would mean they were being interesting… what is that?”

From where he and Cedric had stopped, they could see a slightly transparent, tiered building that was very clearly magically expanded on the inside. It was as he was beginning to develop a headache that Harry heard an overly cheerful voice call out to them.

“Well, what d’you think? Building’s going nicely isn’t it? Now, I imagine you lot can guess what theme it is, and what we’re building?”

Everyone was silent for a while before Harry spoke.

“I mean, it’s clearly Dante’s version of Hell, but what it is, I can’t say. I can say it’s giving me a headache though.”

“That’s corre- wait, no we were going for Anton LaVey. It’s LaVeyan, not Dante.”

“Except LaVey was a pussy and stole all his shit from other people. The structure of this is clearly from the Inferno. It’s lacking the Vestibule, but nine circles, the seventh is subdivided into three, the eighth into ten, which would be the bolge, and the ninth into four. Oh, wait, it’s a maze.”

“I… I thought that’s what the sections would tell you. And it’s still LaVeyan.”

“’Cept for the fact it isn’t. I’m leaving now.”

It was as he was walking back up to the castle that Cedric caught up with him.

“Wait up! Why do you know so much stuff about historical magic? And you mind giving me the low down on the different circles?”

“Call me interested. And ya know what? Why not? So, the first circle is Limbo where reside the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. They aren’t sinful enough to warrant damnation, they just didn’t believe in the ole J-Man enough. Circle two is Lust, and the first of the Circles of Incontinence. Pretty much what it sounds like, people overcome by lust and letting it sway their reason. Dante called them ‘carnal malefactors’ and they get buffeted back and forth by a restless storm.”

“Next up, number three Gluttony! As you might have guessed, the gluttonous are stuck there, doomed to wade through a vile mush created by foul icy rain. After that is circle four, Greed. Ya might think it’s the greedy but Dante was a weirdo. Basically, if your attitude to material wealth wasn’t the average view, you’d head there. Too greedy? Circle four. Not the right level of greedy? Circle four. It’s really dumb. Anyway, they would joust each other with weights. Also dumb!”

“Circle five is Wrath. If you were actively wrathful in your life, eternal fist fights to the death on the stinky, slimy, swampy River Styx. ‘Cept ya can’t die. If you were passively wrathful then ya get to wallow in the depths, unable to find joy in anything. At the edge of Wrath is the gate to the City of Dis where Lower Hell resides. Circle six leaves the Circles of Incontinence, with Heresy. You’re a heretic? Oops, flaming tombs are your reward.”

“Circle seven is Violence, but it’s separated into three rings. The first is against neighbours, it’s where murderers, warmakers, plunderers and tyrants are submerged in the Phlegethon and get shot at by centaurs if they rise up too high. The second is against the self. If you killed yourself, or even tried to, you get turned into a gnarled wooden tree that harpies eat. You also bleed and can only speak if you’ve been broken.”

“Ring three is violence against God, Nature and Art. It’s a Plain of Burning Sand that’s scorched by lakes of fire falling down from the sky, with the Blasphemers being stretched on the sand, Sodomites run in circles and Usurers crouch huddled and weeping.”

“Circle eight is for Fraud, separated into ten bolge. Bolgia one is for panderers and seducers, who get whipped for eternity. Bolgia two is for flatterers, where if you twisted others words to play on their fears and desires you get steeped in literal crap while you fight each other. Bolgia three is for simoniacs. Basically, if you sold ecclesiastical favors or offices you get placed headfirst in round holes in the ground with your feet set on fire. The fire is hotter the guiltier you are. Bolgia four is nominally for sorcerers, but it’s just fortune tellers astrologers, false prophets, ya know, frauds. They have to walk forward while their head is facing backward.”

“Bolgia five is for corrupt politicians, they get stuck in a lake of boiling tar and if they get caught above the surface they get torn to shreds. Bolgia six is for hypocrites, who have to wear gilded lead robes that look like a monk’s habit while walking a narrow track for eternity. Bolgia seven is for thieves, who get chased by reptiles and snakes and constantly get bitten, die and reform from the ash. Bolgia eight is for people who advised others to engage in fraud, and they move about in individual flames, hidden from view. Bolgia nine is pretty simple. Ya sow discord, you get mutilated and hacked apart by a massive demon with a big sword.”

“The final Bolgia is for falsifiers, who get struck down by different afflictions. Diseases, stench, thirst, hunger and the like. The last circle is Treachery. Frozen in ice are people who were treacherous to people they had special relationships with, with their depth being dependent on their guilt. The four sections are family, community, guests and lords, named Caina, Antenora, Ptolomaea and Judecca respectively. At the center is Satan, trapped up to his waist in the lake. In each of his three mouths is a prominent traitor, who he chews on. In order, left to right, Marcus Junius Brutus, Judas Iscariot and Gaius Cassius Longinus.”

“Huh. That’s… gonna be tough to get through.”

“For you maybe. Night ‘Dric!” Harry called behind himself.

Chapter Text

“Okay, who wants to help me plan how to heist the Headmaster? Ideally within the next year so I don’t have to stick around longer than after the OWLs next year.” Harry opened, sliding onto the seats at the Gryffindor table, draping an arm over Blaise as he did so.

“That’s an oddly specific time frame. What are you planning?” Hermione asked, tone slightly accusatory.

“’Cus I’m gonna be leaving Hogwarts after we’ve done our OWLs. I thought I’d mentioned that?” Harry replied, tacking on the end when he saw Hermione’s shocked face.

“No, you most certainly did not mention that! What on Earth are you going to do afterwards? And don’t even think about saying ‘Hunting’ in that smug tone of yours!”

“I’m gonna be heading to the States. The sorts of little beasties that get Hunted are far more rampant over in America.”

“Have you a plan for making money? Hunting isn’t exactly the most lucrative of careers.”

“’Mione, I’m a wizard.” Harry said, twirling his wand about as he did. “Do you know how easy some minor credit card fraud would be? Plus, I wouldn’t need to pay for much ‘cus, y’know, magic and being rich already. Now, back to planning how I’m gonna heist our Headmaster.”

“Unfortunately that’s going to have to happen later. McGonagall’s headed our way.” Neville chimed in, jerking his chin up to where McGonagall was walking primly to the Gryffindor table.

“Potter, the Champions’ are gathering in the Great Hall’s antechamber.”

“Okay? Why are they getting together?”

“The families of the Champions have been invited to watch the final task. This is a chance to greet them.”

After she walked off, Harry finished off his breakfast before heading to the antechamber, at the same time as Cedric and Fleur. When he walked through the door, he noticed Fleur talking to her parents in rather fast-paced French, Cedric was doing the same, but in English and slower. Without Krum in the room, he presumed that the surly-looking couple were Krum’s parents. In front of the fireplace was Frank and another man who Harry couldn’t place.

“Hey kid, how’s it going?”

“Eh, could be worse, could be better. So, I’m gonna guess that you,” Harry pointed at the unknown man “go by Castor?”

“Aw, what gave me away?” Sirius fake-pouted.

“Pads, McGonagall said it was the families. There are only two people who I could think of that would be able to visit Hogwarts and hold themselves in that position.”

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier to mess with you if you didn’t use common sense.” Sirius said, following Harry as he led him and Frank out of the antechamber.

“Yeah, well you can try and mess with my friends if ya want. Oh, by the way Frank, thanks for those lockpicks from last year, the enchantments were real handy during the Second Task.”

“Uh, Harry who are the men behind you?”

“These, ‘Mione are some family members. I figure I should finally introduce you to one of them. You’ve met the other. Everyone, please say hello to the human fossil who I consider an uncle, Frank Thompson. The other guy is Pads, he’s using a glamor.”

“Well, good to finally meet y’all. Also good to finally meet ya boyfriend.” Frank said, adding a teasing lilt to the end.

“How did you even know about that? I’ve not mentioned it in any of our texts!”

“Please, lil’ Lovegood over there keeps me updated on the kinda stuff that most people deal with, like relationships.”

“Luna! Traitor, that’s what you are. When did you even get his number?”

“Harry, his number was already in all of our phones when you gave them to us. I know Hermione messages Mr. Thompson every now and then if she needs information for an order packet.”

“Oh. Anyway, wanna show them the Clubroom?”

“A Clubroom? Well, color me surprised, I was convinced the only way he would willing join a club was under threat of death.” Frank stage whispered to Sirius.

“Ha-ha. I could hear that. Also, it isn’t an actual club, I just decided our little group needed a name, it’s the Monster Club by the way, so it naturally became the Clubroom.” Harry said, opening the door to the aforementioned room as he said its name.

“So, what do y’all think?” Harry asked, flopping onto Blaise’s lap where he had sat as soon as he had entered the room.

“It’s real cozy.” Sirius said, surveying the room. “Cozy, but useful. Ya know, I don’t really understand why none of us thought about doing something like this when I was in school.”

“Probably down to you four being too busy messing up everyone else’s day.”

“Okay, that’s a tiny bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“No, not really. I do, however, think covering the entire Hufflepuff Den in flobberworm mucus is way more than a tiny bit dramatic.”

“You’re still hung up on that? Come on, that was years ago!”

“I smelled like flobberworm mucus for weeks!”

“You are way less attractive when you’re holdi- OW!” Sirius yelped. “Did you just shoot a Stinging Hex at me?”

“No flirting with my uncle where I can see or hear it! Now, Frank, ya gonna tell me what those keys were about?”

“Ya know, I don’t recall us being at the end of the school year. Do you Pads?”

“No, Frank, I don’t think I do, I don’t think I do.”

“Ugh, fine. You guys wanna see a dead basilisk?”

With the answer to that question being an obvious yes Harry led all of them to the Chamber, where they wound up exploring the various offshoot tunnels and room which, unfortunately, held very little of interest, with what was left of the remaining items being degraded to the point of uselessness. It wasn’t all that long until they left the Chamber and made themselves look presentable enough to have lunch.

It was as they were all giving Frank and Sirius a tour of the castle after lunch that Harry remembered something.

“Hey, Pads, you mentioned a Hit Wizard academy a while back. You ever join them?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that. I joined the Academy shortly after I graduated but dropped out after, like, a month or two. The paperwork and the corruption were too much. ‘Specially the paperwork. I do not like paperwork. Why d’ya ask?”

“Eh, I was wondering if you’d want to become a Hunter,”

“I’d thought about it, but I don’t really know anyone who’s in that sphere.”

“Pads.” Harry said, giving Sirius a deadpan look. “You know two Hunters already.”

“Wait, I do?”

“Yes. Yes, you do. Frank owns and runs the premiere Hunter bar in the UK and I own, and co-run with Hermione, the most trafficked Hunter forum on the net.”

“Huh. Guess I’ll visit his bar then.”

It wasn’t long before Harry and the rest of the Champions found themselves being led to the Quidditch Pitch by Bagman. Bagman started moving to Harry before hesitating and stopping. Clearly, he had finally learned that Harry didn’t want anything to do with him.

In short order the stands were filled up, they were informed the professors would be on standby to help rescue anyone if needed and the point standings were listed off for the audience.

Then the whistle was blown, and he was off into the maze.

Chapter Text

The first part of the maze was deceptively simple when they had gotten a glimpse at it the prior month. Where it had been completely blank from the outside, the interior of it resembled a traditional maze, at least from what Harry could see.

Ignoring Krum who had immediately set off into the maze, Harry placed a hand on the right wall of the maze and started moving. He hadn’t ever expected to use the maze navigation techniques he had learned on a lark but was glad he had spent the time learning them now.

It took a while until he found the first of the obstacles in the maze. A little too long for his liking. It was an enchanted boggart that transformed to show him Frank’s dead body, which was easily dealt with with a simple Riddikulus.

“Huh. Guess they actually did their research this time ‘round.” Harry said to himself as he moved forward, thinking.

If the boggart hadn’t turned into a wendigo, it was enchanted. That it transformed into one of the only figures that others might call a father figure was rather telling that a part of the maze was the Limbo of the Patriarchs. He idly wondered how they’d manage to execute the Limbo of Infants.

Unfortunately, at least in his opinion, Harry never got the chance to find out how they would have portrayed it, seeing as he didn’t encounter any further obstacles within Limbo. Suspicious, if you asked him.

By the time Harry had found the stairs leading to the next level, the rest of the Champions had entered the maze, though Harry didn’t pay them much mind. Stepping into the first actual Circle of Hell, he was confronted by a larger-than-life depiction of King Minos of Crete.

“Maybe someone did read the Inferno. Well, let’s see what Lust has to offer.” Harry commented aloud.

As it turned out, there was, once again, very little that he encountered. At this point, Harry was certain someone was sabotaging the Task for him. Though, he reasoned, the floor might have been enchanted to behave similarly to the actual description. The only reason he suspected that was the slight wind that kept trying to push him every which way but failed miserably.

It was only when he ascended to the third level that he was able to confirm his suspicions. Someone had definitely done their research for this task. It was fairly easy to charm his boots to be impervious to the slush-like mud so he wouldn’t be inconvenienced by things such as wet socks and shoes.

It was also in the Circle of Gluttony that he was certain that the floors were enchanted. After all, no one beyond his family knew about Vernon or Dudley, so their appearance on that level was evidence of some form of charm on the structure. The apparitions of his long-dead uncle and cousin were rather bothersome, however, seeing as they grabbed ahold of his ankles, begging him to save them.

A swift kick fixed that.

It was when he stepped foot in the Circle of Greed that he finally felt some of the difficulties his competitors were likely facing. He had suspected that his tendency to not spend more than necessary would hamper him in this Circle, and they were evidently well-founded.

Whilst maintaining a Shield Charm, Harry slowly but surely made his way through the ring, fending off constructs that were attempting to joust with him, all the while feeling as though leaden weights had been attached to his ankles.

The Fifth Circle was no issue when faced with temperature charms, and Circle Six was handily dealt with by using a Flame-Freezing Charm. The entrance to the Seventh Circle was handily dealt with by an Impedimenta and a Stupefy shot off at the minotaur that the Ministry had leased. The rings were slightly more troublesome, seeing as he had to traverse over the imitation of the Phlegethon, navigate through the damaged and wailing trees and then avoid fireballs from the sky.

Not wanting to deal with making his way through all ten of the Eight Circle’s bolge, Harry pulled the school broomstick he had borrowed (he really should get around to buying one, he thought to himself) and flew up and through the Central Well.

Finally, he was in the final Circle. And so was Cedric.

“Harry. Figures you’d have made it through as well.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it. ‘Course, it’s been a little too easy. I suspect sabotage from whoever entered me in the first place. Where are Krum and Fleur?”

“Rescued by the professors. Krum was using the Cruciatus on Fleur. He looked Imperiused when he looked at me. I stunned him before he could try anything on me and cast the alarm spell we were told to use.”

“Well, if that doesn’t reek of sabotage then I don’t know what does.”

“Yeah.” Cedric sighed. “Figure it’s a trap? Cho told me she heard the Headmaster mention the Cup taking the winner to the podium.”

“Probably a hijacked portkey then. Well then ‘Dric, this has officially left civilian territory. I’ll see you later.” Harry said, shooting a Stunner at him which he blocked.

“What do you mean ‘civilian territory’? If that were the case, wouldn’t you want a nearly fully trained wizard with you?”

“First of all, exactly that. You’re a civilian, I’m not, especially when it’s a plot that’s tied to Voldemort. Second of all, you might be taking your NEWTs next year, but you have no combat training. You’d be a liability.” Harry responded.

Cedric began to try and rebut the latter argument but Harry couldn’t catch what he said, seeing as he had summoned the Triwizard Cup and was suddenly pulled away to wherever it would take him.

Chapter Text

Harry felt himself slam into compacted earth, blades of grass pressed down by his body before he hurriedly stood up. Looking around he could see he was in a graveyard, with a church and an old, gnarled yew tree to his right, and a manor on a large hill to the left.

“Well, we’re not at Hogwarts anymore.” Harry muttered to himself, feeling as though he were being watched by someone.

It was as he was examining the graves, in an effort to discern his whereabouts that he heard footsteps from somewhere behind him.

Whirling about, Harry spotted a cloaked figure, one who seemed to be holding a bundle of cloth, who was steadily progressing through the headstones. Not willing to risk it, Harry shot off a Stunner at the figure, who blocked it with ease.

In the time it took for the unknown person to cast the Shield Charm Harry had cast a Smokescreen Spell to obscure his location long enough to get behind a headstone and cast the Ventriloquist Charm to make whoever was underneath the cloak think he had gone somewhere else.

With the time he had bought himself, Harry tried to get away, using the ring Gabriel had given him earlier in the year, only for it to fail.

“Damnit Gabe! Worse version is fucken’ right!” Harry whispered to himself. Unfortunately, that was all the noise the mystery person needed, having been close enough to hear his whisper.

As well as being close enough that Harry wasn’t able to dodge the Full-Body Bind that was sent his way. He just knew Frank would be grilling him about situational awareness all summer.

Unable to look anywhere but ahead of the gravestone he had been bound on, Harry took note of what was before him. Front and center was a podium in front of what looked to be a stone table. On the aforementioned podium was a bowl filled with various herbs, seeds and preserved fruits. Just behind the table, but still visible were two interlinked ritual circles. Harry thought they looked similar to the ones he and Helena had devised, so presumed it was related to pneumaturgy in some manner.

In the circle on the right was the bundle of cloth, which Harry could now see held the homunculus that he had seen before the start of the school year. It was also when he saw the homunculus that he realized he was no longer under the effects of the Body Bind, as he had managed to turn his head ever so slightly.

“Oooh, this is all very spooky. Mind letting me know who the guy in the cloak is? Oh no, wait, let me guess. Is it… Peter?”

“Quiet, Potter!” The homunculus snapped out. “And you, hurry up Wormtail!”

Turning his head as much as he could in Pettigrew’s direction, Harry saw that he had just finished sharpening a jagged-looking dagger before he approached the podium and set the ingredients in the bowl alight.

“You two are kinda cliché, ya know? I mean, really, who still performs death magic in a graveyard anymore? It’s such a stereotype.” Harry quipped, grimacing through the words when Pettigrew sliced his arm using the dagger.

Harry watched, morbidly curious, as Pettigrew walked around the podium, dripping his blood in as he completed each round. As he did so he chanted.

“Id quod mortuum, nunc oriatur. Hoc quod cecidit, nunc revertatur. Id quod mortuum, nunc oriatur. Hoc quod cecidit, nunc revertatur."

At the same time that Pettigrew finished the chant, the fire turned purple, with a purple rift appearing in the sky. Harry watched as he knelt in front of the fire and, with a look of great focus, began to chant once more.

“Hoc quod cecidit, nunc revertatur. Orimini! Orimini! Orimini! Orimini! Orimini!”

At the last utterance in the chant, a bolt of purple lightning struck the ground, scorching it and leaving a body in its place, one clad in black robes.

Stepping up to the body, Pettigrew moved it into the unoccupied circle before exiting it and cutting the homunculus’ neck with a Severing Charm. Bound in the confines of the ritual circles, and only having one viable body in reach, the shade that seeped out of the now corpse flew into the new body.

After a few seconds, to allow the piece of soul a moment to settle into the body, Pettigrew approached the body and, using a tattooing spell, marked the body with what seemed to be a binding sigil.

After he retreated, the body started to rise up. Jerkily it began to move to a sitting position, moving as though it was being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer, but gaining fluidity as the seconds went by, culminating in Lord Voldemort standing and inspecting his body, before pulling his wand out of a pocket in the robes.

“Your arm, Wormtail.”

From where he was on one knee in submission Pettigrew extended his left arm, pushing the sleeve of his robe up to the elbow as he did so, exposing his Dark Mark.

“It has returned. The others will have noticed. Let us see who amongst our number shall be brave?” Voldemort spoke, pressing a gnarled forefinger to the Mark, ignoring Pettigrew’s scream of pain. “And let us see who shall be foolish enough to hide and flee.”

Chapter Text

As Voldemort activated the Dark Mark Harry felt that barrier he had run up against when attempting to escape vanish. He considered escaping immediately but realized he’d have to abandon his wand and favorite knife if he did.

In the wait for the Death Eaters’ arrival, Voldemort began to pace and monologue.

“You, Harry Potter, find yourself upon what remains of my late father. A Muggle. And a fool. Not particularly dissimilar to your dear, dead mother. Of course, both of them had their uses. Your mother died, in an effort to prolong your pitiful life, dying by my hand. Much like my own father, whose remains were used to construct the ritual circles before you tonight.”

“You saw, I assume, the manor on the hill behind you, Potter? It used to house my father, along with his family. My mother lived nearby, a little ways from the village we find ourselves in. She fell in love with him but was abandoned when she revealed what she was. He didn’t like magic, you see.”

“He left her, before my birth, and returned to his parents, letting her die in childbirth, leaving me to be raised in an orphanage. I swore a vow to find him and take vengeance on him. That fool who’s mundane name I shared. But enough of my reminiscing, for my true family has returned.”

The silent night was suddenly interrupted and filled with swishing and cracking as Death Eaters began to apparate into any available space and approach Voldemort to kiss his robes before forming a circle around them.

“Welcome, Death Eaters. Fifteen years, it has been. Fifteen years since last we met, yet here you are, as though it were a mere day since. So united under my Mark, are we?” Voldemort started, pausing before continuing.

“I. Smell. Guilt. Its stench lays thick upon every one of you. Here you stand, hearty and hale, with your bodies and powers in tact making such prompt appearances that I find myself wondering. Where were you, those who had sworn your eternal allegiance to me, when, as a wraith, your aid was needed? I find one answer makes sense.” He continued, giving all of them a piercing look.

“You believed me dead, that I was gone. So you slipped amongst my enemies, pled innocence and ignorance, bewitchment and charming. But then I find myself asking, why would they believe me dead? You, who all knew the steps I had taken to ensure my immortality, those who had borne witness to my power, my might. Perhaps they had believed a yet greater power could exist? Perhaps that champion of commoners, of Muggles and Mudbloods, Albus Dumbledore? Or perhaps a mere infant? I confess I find myself disappointed.”

All of a sudden one of the Death Eaters flung themselves forward, prostrating himself before Voldemort, begging for his forgiveness, and receiving a Cruciatus for his troubles.

“It seems you have forgotten much of your Lord, Avery. I will, perhaps, forgive when you have repaid those sixteen years. Wormtail has begun his repayment, if only out of fear.” Voldemort said, approaching the man to Pettigrew’s right.

“Ah Lucius, ever the slippery one. I am told you have continued our practices, while maintaining a respectable front. Your spot of Muggle hunting, admirable though it may be, is not enough. You never attempted to find me, Lucius. Your exploits this summer past may have been enjoyable but such energy would have better served finding and aiding me, no?”

“My Lord, I was constantly on alert. Had there been any sign of your-“ Lucius began before being cut off.

“Such as my Mark being cast, yes?” Voldemort started, palming his wand. “And yet, you ran from it, did you not? I have not remained ignorant of your actions, Lucius. I expect more faithful service in the future, or you may find the consequences… unpleasant.”

Moving to a spot wide enough for two people, Voldemort stopped before speaking.

“The Lestranges ought to be stood here, though they find themselves entombed within Azkaban’s walls. More willing to be jailed than renounce  me. True faith. They shall be liberated, and honored, of course. The dementors will join, of course. In time, all of our old allies shall return.”

He walked on, ignoring many of the Death Eaters, either wishing to deal with them later where he could make them an example or simply considering them inconsequential compared to others.

“MacNair. Wormtail tells me you are executing creatures now, at the Ministry’s behest? You shall soon have better victims to taste your spell and axe.” Voldemort said, moving on. “Ah, Crabbe Senior. And Goyle, of course. You shall serve me better, yes? And much the same for you, Nott.”

In time he came upon the largest gap in the circle.

“Six missing Death Eaters. Three, dead in service to me. One, a coward, too scared of retribution to return. He shall pay. Another who I believe has left my service forever. He shall die, of course. And the final, my most faithful servant, who, even now, has re-entered my service, and it is through his efforts at Hogwarts that our guest has arrived.”

That last line of Voldemort’s gave Harry an idea as to who had entered him into the Tournament. A person who had become a new fixture this year, one he hadn’t met until this year. One who fit into the prior years's pattern. One that tried to help him skirt the rules once before. Alastor Moody.

That was also the point that Harry started tuning Voldemort out, seeing as he was just monologuing at the sycophants who were still trying to kiss his robes. He tuned back in when he caught Bertha Jorkins’ name if only to learn what had happened to her. Unfortunately, it was much as he had suspected. What was more unfortunate was the Cruciatus that Voldemort used on him.

Harry had understood the theory behind the Cruciatus, that it was more a psychosomatic pain response that magic inflicted, which was why Neville’s parents had been sent catatonic. He knew the spell was more mental than physical. That didn’t change anything, however, as he felt as though his bones were being broken bit by bit into tiny shards, as though his muscles were being peeled apart fiber by fiber. It felt like his veins were filled with liquid hellfire, as though his nerves had turned to lightning and then, all of a sudden… nothing.

“I do believe you now see the foolishness in thinking a mere child may have ever been stronger than me.” Voldemort said, turning away from Harry. “I shall not allow doubt, however. It was mere luck and chance that allowed Potter to escape me. This night, however, I shall prove my might in killing him, with no Dumbledore and no mother to protect him. I will, however, allow him a chance. Wormtail, untie him and return his blade and wand.”

“Hi- his blade, my Lord?”

“It would not serve to prove my greater strength if we were to deny a mage all his tools. Potter is clearly educated in less sanitized arts. So yes, Wormtail, return his blade. Or do you question your Lord?”

“N-no, Dark Lord.” Pettigrew stammered, gathering the items and returning them to Harry as he untied him.

Now free, Harry stretched a bit, ridding himself of the tension that had developed from being tied to a gravestone, before giving Voldemort a jaunty wave with his knife.

“Bye Tom!”

And with that, he vanished from the graveyard.

Chapter Text

“Finally, magic travel that doesn’t hate me.” Harry commented to himself as he looked about himself. “Now, where does Frank keep the first aid kit?”

With a slight stumble, both from the blood loss and the lingering pain that he was still experiencing from the Cruciatus, Harry made his way behind The Hunter’s Moon’s bar, searching the emergency supplies Frank kept in arm’s reach beneath the countertop.

“There we are!” Harry muttered to himself, pulling the repurposed toolbox out and putting it on the bar counter. As he was disinfecting the cut on his arm with some rubbing alcohol Harry looked at his hands, noting the slight tremor.

“Y’know, I’m not the best at stitches on the best of days. Staples it is, I guess.”

It was only when he had stapled and bandaged the wound on his arm that he pulled out his phone to call Frank.

“Kid, where the hell are you?” Frank demanded. “That maze thing went down half an hour ago and people are scrambling to try and find you! Your boyfriend’s threated to poison Bagman, Fudge and Moody!”

“Uh, right now I’m in the Moon. As for the rest it’s… complicated.”

“How did you- huh? Yeah, feel free.”

“Uh, Frank, some info would be-“

“Harry James Potter, if you don’t get your ass back here I will poison every Ministry official that organized this gods-forsaken Tournament!” Blaise yelled into the phone before his voice quieted a slight bit. “I could not give two fucks Ludovic! Arresting me would literally be a crime! I have diplomatic immunity you cockwomble!”

“Darl’, I’ll be there as soon as possible, I just need to figure out how to get back there.”

“Hey brat, me again. Longbottom is having to restrain Blaise. Now, as I was asking, how the hell did you get in the Moon?”

“A magic ring, but I don’t really know how it works and I also got hit with a Cruciatus so I don’t think it’s a good idea to teleport on my own again so soon after. You up for playing delivery boy? Well, delivery grandpa.”

“Fine. Hang on.”

It took a decent while, but Frank eventually appeared in the Moon with the characteristic crack of apparition.

“Christ, kid! You look like shit.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, let’s go and stop Blaise from killing some bureaucrats.” Harry said, pulling himself up off the chair he was sitting on.

When they landed back on the Quidditch Pitch, Harry was immediately tackled into a hug by Blaise.

“Darl’ I’m fine. Well, relatively speaking.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were kidnapped! And because of Voldemort if Cedric is to be believed!” Blaise said after pulling back.

“I’ll explain that later, but could you find Moody, mi vida? It was the Defense professor again.”

“That… won’t be necessary.”

“Sweetheart, where’s Moody?”

“Both are currently in the Medical Tent.”

“Both? What and why?” Harry asked, a tinge of exasperation coloring the question.

“He wasn’t taking your disappearance seriously enough so I mixed, oh, about five paralytic agents my mother developed and used a Switching Spell on the vial and his flask. Turns out, someone’s been drinking Polyjuice throughout the year. The real Moody was in his trunk but he’s still unconscious.”

As Blaise caught Harry up on everything that had happened in his absence, along with notes and remarks from Frank, Sirius and the rest of his friends, Harry made his way to the Medical Tent so that Madame Pomfrey could see to him. When he walked into the tent, he saw Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape standing at the end of the bed where the fake Moody was.

It was in the midst of Madame Pomfrey treating him, for both the wound on his arm and the slight tremors from the Cruciatus, that the impostor’s Polyjuice Potion finally wore off, causing all three of the professors to gasp, before McGonagall and Snape quickly rushed whoever it was away, presumably for questioning.

As he was being rushed away, Dumbledore turned to face Harry, as well as the crowd of everyone else around him.

“Loathe though I am to ask this of you, I must ask that you tell me what happened after you touched the Triwizard Cup, Mr. Potter.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, I forgot, hearing does tend to start failing in old age. I said no Albus.”

“Mr. Thompson, surely you must-“

“Understand how important it is you learn what happened?” Frank asked in a mocking falsetto. “You can ask him later.”

“As it is a matter of safety, I must insist that you allow me to question Mr. Potter.”

“Let me guess, you’re gonna try and use in loco parentis?” Frank asked, receiving a look of affirmation. “Well, that ain’t how it works. Minerva would fill that role, if one of his guardians wasn’t here.”

“I do not see Petunia Dursley anywhere.”

“One, it’s Petunia Evans again, two Castor and I qualify. Castor here is still his guardian in the Ministries records and Petunia signed a legal agreement letting me act as the kid’s guardian when she’s absent.”

“Why was the school not informed?”

“’Cus it’s never been relevant. So, like I said, no. You can ask him tomorrow. Or, ya know, you could ask to take a copy of the memory.”

“Ah, but such an act would require the use of a Pensieve.”

“Which you have.”

“Ah, now why would you have reason to suspect such a thing?”

“Zabini, if you would.”

“Benjamin McEwin overheard a discussion between Katie Bell and Fred Weasley about an odd cylindrical cabinet, large enough for a pensieve, that was slightly ajar when McGonagall took both him and George to your office to discuss disciplinary measures. The existence of the cabinet was verified by Malcom Preece. Afterward, Mafalda Weasley, third cousin to Ronald, along with the photography skills of Colin Creevey snuck into your office when you were away to act as Chief Warlock. Supplying us with photographic evidence of your Pensieve.” Blaise recited, presenting a picture from a pocket, before tucking it away. “Of course, the individuals involved are all according to a single statement and would classify as hearsay, thus inadmissible as evidence for disciplinary acts per the Hogwarts bylaws.”

“Such an act would require the password to my office.” Dumbledore commented.

“Yes, well, the Hogwarts Informational Service is rather talented.”

“Now, back to the point, Albus. Why not take a copy of the memory?”

“I wish to know Mr. Potter’s perspective on any event that followed his abrupt departure.”

Seeing the look on Frank’s face, along with the way his hand was twitching near a knife, Dumbledore sighed in defeat before agreeing to take the memory and leave them alone.

“Right, now that he’s gone, Fudge came by before you returned and gave me the galleons you won.”

“Eh, do what you want with them. God knows I’m rich enough. Could probably get a decent car, upgrade from the piece of junk you’ve got now.”

“My truck ain’t a piece of junk!”

“Frank, it sounds like there are marbles in the exhaust. And your brake pads scream in agony when you brake. Please, get a new car.”

The conversation continued as such, slowly petering out as Sirius and Frank left and Madame Pomfrey said he was allowed to leave the tent. Everyone came to a group consensus to spend the night in the Clubroom. As Harry dozed off, his only thought was being happy that the entire ordeal was more or less over.

Chapter Text

Harry was avoiding Cedric. He had been avoiding him since the night of the Third Task, for fairly reasonable reasons, in his opinion. He probably thought Harry had lied to him. Unfortunately, Cedric hunted him down on the Express.

“Finally! Do you have any idea how hard you can be to find?”

“I have a vague idea, yes.” Harry replied. “How can I be of service?”

“Well, first of all, you could stop avoiding me. Second, what the hell happened after the Task? Dumbledore’s been saying You-Know-Who is back, the Prophet’s been saying he’s going senile, and they're saying that you're his source. What happened?”

Sighing to himself, Harry shifted so that he could lean his head back onto Blaise’s shoulder.

“Long story short, Voldemort is back. Short story long, is it’s complicated, but it involved herbs, berries, bone and blood. Well, that and a Cruciatus sent my way.”

“What! How did you escape?” Cedric asked, looking rather paler than before.

“Magic.” Harry said, with a deadpan expression and jazz hands. “So, yeah, be glad I didn’t take you with me. You would have died.”

As he looked at Harry, Cedric moved to say something, before closing his mouth and looking at him more.

“Ya know, you’re taking this well. Like, weirdly well.”

“Oh, no, I’m really not. I just think it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“It’s also kinda weird that you aren’t, like, questioning if I’m telling the truth. Finnegan was. Rather loudly as well.”

“I mean, it’s not like you go around lying about stuff. Plus, you warned me about the Second Task.”

“Well, glad we got that cleared up.” Harry said, settling in to nap for the rest of the train ride. Before opening his eyes to look at Cedric who was still looking at him.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The fact that people don’t believe the truth. Or the fact that you were tortured, or had your blood stolen. A lot of things, actually.”

“Honestly? I’ve seen worse. Been through some as well. I don’t really care much about the public opinion.”

Harry watched as Cedric gave him a considering look before gesticulating to say whatever he was thinking.

“It’s just… you’re nothing like I thought you would be. Not really anyway.”

“Uh… how?”

“It’s just… you completely vanish from the Wizarding World, only to show up at Hogwarts, while somehow managing to be friends with the son of two esteemed war heroes, the infamous Black Widow’s son, a muggleborn, and a year later the daughter of the only rival to The Daily Prophet. Mysterious things keep happening to you, but you never mention them to anyone, you almost never talk to anyone you don’t know. I guess I was expecting… a more extroverted you, I guess?”

“Well, such are how the chips fell, ‘Dric.”

“Well, good to know you don’t hate me.” Cedric gave as a parting comment.

It was as he was getting into Frank’s pickup that Harry asked the same question he had asked the day of the Third Task.

“So, about those keys…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get to see when we get to the Moon. Now, you never mentioned if you managed to deal with the Scar Issue.”

“Oh that! Yeah, no, we’re all in the clear on that. Matter of fact, I saw it be dealt with.”

“Which was how, exactly?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, summoning an archangel.”

In an odd parallel to when Frank first learned about the possibility of the issue, he slammed his foot on the brake, while loudly swearing, before calming down and continuing on their way.

“Oh, please, it’s not that big a deal.”

“You summoned an archangel! How did you even manage that?”

“You remember when Rob was moping about Loki?”

“Uh… oh yeah, I threatened to shoot him.”

“Anyway, turns out he was actually dealing with Gabriel, I got the rite from him, tinkered with it, summoned him, got the scar dealt with and kinda befriended him. I call him Gabe now.”

Frank gave a long, slow, exhale before responding.

“Looks like you’ll be redoing the ‘Don’t Summon Something Unless You’re 100 Percent Certain” lessons, along with situational awareness.”

“Really?”

“Listen, it’s either that, or I’m not giving you firearms training.”

“Wait, really?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you’ve gone on enough Hunts with me that I’m comfortable considering you a full Hunter. Which is why I got ya that.” Frank answered as he pulled into the parking lot of The Hunter’s Moon.

Seeing where Frank was gesticulating, Harry’s jaw dropped open ever so slightly.

“Frank, is that what I think it is?” He asked tentatively.

“If by ‘that’ you mean a ‘93 Kawasaki Ninja 250R, you’d be right.”

“Have I ever told you you’re the world’s coolest uncle?” Harry asked as he approached the motorcycle.

“Ya mighta mentioned it once or twice. Anyway, I’m gonna give ya some driving lessons during the summer, but it’s enchanted to prevent crashes, so you shouldn’t worry ‘bout that.”

“I am so getting Pads’ help with enchanting it.” Harry commented as he and Frank walked into the Moon.

Chapter Text

Harry was worried. The first week of the summer break had passed, with calls and texts from Blaise and Luna, who were in Italy and Namibia respectively, but none from Hermione or Neville.

It was as he was etching the last rune that would get the disillusionment switch working that Harry decided he would head to the Moon to see if Frank had heard anything. Which would take a while. Because he was being watched.

He had noticed it on the second day of the break. Harry had committed how Number 4 Privet Drive smelled to memory, given that some monsters could be identified by scent, so the smell of cheap vodka and cigars was a noticeable deviation.

He knew it couldn’t be his aunt, she thought smoking and anything but wine were unrefined. He knew it wasn’t him. So the only logical conclusion was an unseen third party. The scents changed every hour, with about a twelve-minute window between the changes.

He could only conclude it was a team of people keeping an eye on him.

Seeing it had just hit the first of those twelve minutes, Harry hopped on his bike and sped his way from the suburbs of Surrey to London, flipping the accelerator enchantment switch that he had finished the other day.

“Frank-“ Harry started, before noticing Sirius was at the bar as well. “Pads, even better.”

“Harry!” He exclaimed. “How are the schematics I sent you working out?”

“They’re going well. Just finished the disillusionment switch. I have a question for you, however.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Why haven’t I been able to reach you and Hermione and Neville? Whenever I tried to call any of you the line didn’t even ring.”

“Why, uh, why would you think I’m connected to that?” Sirius asked, looking nervous.

“Really Sirius?” Harry said, adopting a patronizing tone. “One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern. Incidentally, you wouldn’t happen to know why there’s a set of people keeping an eye on me, would you?”

“Okay, I do know where they are, but I literally can’t tell you. Also, how did you know the Order were watching your house?”

“What the hell is ‘the Order’? I was tryin’ to psych you out. Also, can you tell me where the where is?”

“Uh, a street called Grimmauld. Also, they’re a group Dumbledore formed during the first war, to combat Voldemort. He wanted to use- damnit. He wanted to use a belonging of mine, but on the stipulation that I- ugh, accompany them.”

Harry sighed to himself.

“Okay, Order later, Grimmauld now. Frank, look after my bike, Sirius, you’re apparating me to that street.”

“It won’t be much use, it has to do with a Fidelius.”

“I assumed as much. And I’m going to brute force my way through it with logic.”

Even though he gave him a weird look, Sirius chugged the beer he was drinking before he walked over to Harry and apparated both of them to Grimmauld Place. After recovering from the nausea that always accompanied apparition, Harry noticed something odd. The vertigo he was feeling.

“You good?” Sirius asked.

“Fine, it’s just… there’s something wrong about this street. It… the road feels longer than the houses make it look like it should.”

“Really? I… Merlin, now that you mention it, I can’t not see it. I think I have a headache now.”

“Actually, the houses are odd as well. There’s an Eleven Grimmauld Place and a Thirteen Grimmauld Place but no- there isn’t a-“ Harry said his voice choking out before he put the number twelve next to the street name.

“Well, at least I know roughly what the Secret is then.” Harry said. “So, considering how long the houses are, then the missing one should be… here, roughly. How close am I Pads?”

“Y- well, looks like I can’t say.”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. So, if I just…” Harry said, trailing off as he started walking forward, making contact with a set of stairs that he couldn’t see.

Now certain that he was right, he continued forwards, until he walked into a solid object. Stepping back slightly, Harry raised his hand and knocked on the door.

Only to be pulled through the door he knew was there but couldn’t see.

Chapter Text

You could argue the elbow to the solar plexus was an overreaction. If Harry was asked, he would argue he underreacted. Really, what else would they expect when they yanked him in the house?

“Sweet Merlin, lad!” Harry heard someone he couldn’t see exclaim.

“For fucks sake, would someone let me into the Fidelius! I can’t see jack shit!”

As he spoke, he was roughly pulled into a different room, suddenly feeling an odd pull on his magic from something nearby. As he was sat down, he heard someone else come into the room.

“Harry? How are you here?”

“Hey ‘Mione! I’d be willing to explain if someone would make it so that I don’t see a void of nothing.”

“Alastor told me to come down and help prove you’re who you seem to be. He said I should ask something only you could know about, so… what did we do in January of our second year?”

“We slew a basilisk. Kinda lame if I’m being honest.”

“It’s definitely Harry. You can hand him the parchment.”

As she said that, Harry was handed a piece of parchment that read “The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place”, suddenly revealing he was in a kitchen.

“Now, how did you get through the Fidelius?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, I brute forced my way through it with logical deductions.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Long story short, I couldn’t reach you or Neville for a week, so naturally I went to the Moon, found Sirius, he told me the street name, he apparated me here, the street looked wrong, I realized there was a missing house number, so I just walked up the missing steps and knocked on the door.”

In the background, he could hear what looked like the real Alastor Moody utter a long string of curses, before hurrying out of the room. Harry walked out of the kitchen as well, noticing Sirius was in the building as well, following that pull on his magic, ending in front of a set of curtains.

“Hey Pads, what’s behind the curtain?”

“Ah, that would be a portrait of my harpy of a mother. I would recommend against opening them.”

“Hm.” Harry hummed, tapping the side of his left lens. “Yeah, this isn’t a portrait.”

As he said that, he yanked the curtains open, which prompted shrill yelling of various slurs and denigrations. He waited a little bit, hoping she would stop, before resorting to twisting the Resurrection Stone once, which caused her to abruptly cut off.

“There we go. Now, what’s her name Sirius?”

“Uh… Walburga. What did you mean by her not being a portrait?”

“Well, in the mundane sense she is, it’s paint on a canvas, but she’s not a magical portrait. Actual magical portraiture is a sub-discipline of hemoturgy, it’s why they can replicate personalities. Caterina, a portrait friend of mine taught me a spell that I built an enchantment from for my glasses. It lets you see where the blood receptacle is for a portrait, in case you need to fix the threads of magic. Walburga here doesn’t have any blood.” He said turning back to Walburga.

“But you were probably relying on that being uncommon knowledge, weren’t you Walburga? Now, I’m curious, did you use the Akkadian rite, or the Greek perversion?” Not getting a response, Harry continued. “Oh, come now, we don’t want to be compelling you now do we?”

“N-no. It was the Akkadian ritual.”

“So you aren’t quite insane. Now, I know the painting is you and you’re the painting, but I’m wondering if the canvas is your phylactery as well?” Harry asked as he began feeling around the frame. “My opinion? I don’t think you’re quite idiotic enough for that. I mean, you clearly managed to pull off a piece of ancient Akkadian magic. I think that there’s… aha!”

As he exclaimed in satisfaction, there was a loud click and the portrait swung forward, revealing a small hollow space behind it, where a ring holder was prominently displayed, showing a white-gold band, with delicate sigils engraved on it, which was promptly blocked by a lutin that seemed about twenty years past its death date.

“The loathsome little mongrel not be touching Mistress’ ring! Foul curse upon the house-“ The luting started yelling before being cut off, disappearing the moment the rock salt Harry had thrown at it made skin contact.

“Well, now that that’s dealt with, back to the phylactery. Let’s see…” Harry muttered to himself, looking at the framing of the alcove, noticing a string of sigils, glyphs and runes. “You really are quite clever aren’t you, Walburga? Let’s see, Elder Futhark, Ogham, ooh Aramaic and Proto-Elamite! So that looks like… hmm, a Withering Curse? Yeah, definitely a Withering Curse… oh, and it’s tied to a Soul Leash and Drayner’s Whirl Enchantment? Well, you certainly don’t do things by half measures. Let me see, where is the… ah, there the power rune is. Oh, and tied to a Vortex Absorption jinx.”

“Yes, well let’s deal with those.” Harry said, pulling the engraving tool he had been using on his bike out of his satchel. “A line there, a dot here and a circle over that and… there we go! Now, Sirius, how do you think we should deal with Walburga’s phylactery?”

“Harry, what on earth is a phylactery?”

“A soul vessel.”

“… Leave it. I want her to know I could get rid of her anytime I want. And that she’ll never know when it could happen.”

“Ya hear that, Walburga? You’re gonna be at the tender mercies of your dear, eldest son.” Harry said, before leaning and whispering. “I would like to remind you about something, though. If you don’t keep your tongue in line, I can and will deal with you.”

“Well, I think it’s time to have lunch!” Neville called out as he came down the stairs.

Chapter Text

When Harry walked into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, he was confronted by a rather odd collection of people, most of which he was able to identify by their scents, some of which he knew by sight. There was Neville, Hermione and Sirius, of course, but he could also spot Mr. and Mrs. Weasley along with the Twins, as well as Lupin, but beyond that, there was no one else he could identify by sight.

“Oh, hello Harry dear! Please, sit down, I’ve just finished up the chicken breast, the sandwiches will be finished in just a minute!”

He was about to respond to what Mrs. Weasley had said, but as he began to open his mouth he caught a whiff of a very familiar scent, whirling his head around to look at where it was coming from.

“Dead Beat!”

“Eh! What the hell do ya mean I’m a dead-beat?”

“I’m not calling you a dead-beat, I’m calling you Dead Beat. Why have you been watching my house?”

“I’d be mighty interested in knowing you learnt ‘bout your security detail, lad. And how ya managed to give them the slip.”

“Actually, Dead Beat over there is how I figured it out. Cheap cigars and vodka is quite the… distinct scent. Everyone else you have guarding me has a similar issue. One of them wears rose perfume, another teakwood cologne, et cetera, et cetera. As for the slipping off, there’s a twelve minute gap between when one shift leaves and the other gets there. Not that it helps much. I’d still manage to sneak off without it.”

All Moody did in response was glare at multiple people with a glint in his eye that promised severe pain in his next training sessions. It was as he was finally able to catch up with Neville and Hermione over lunch that Dumbledore walked through the fireplace.

“Mr. Potter, I had not anticipated your presence for a month yet. How, pray tell, did you manage to make your way here?”

“Ask Moody, Albus.”

“I must ask that you refrain from using my given name, Mr. Potter.”

“And I must ask you refrain from kidnapping my friends, Albus.” Harry replied, mimicking the disappointed grandfather tone Dumbledore had adopted.

“I can assure I have done no such thing.”

“Yes, well, my having not seen my parents since the prior summer would strongly disagree, Mr. Dumbledore.” Hermione said, picking up her mug of tea as she did.

“As I have said before, I have informed your parents Miss Granger, and they have permitted your presence here.”

“And I have told you that unless I am presented with either the chance to ask them myself, or a signed, dated and notarized notice then I shall simply default to my knowledge of my parents. Which would be that they'd never sign off on such a farce.”

“Mr. Potter, I feel we must discuss-“ Dumbledore began, ignoring Hermione’s retort, before he was cut off.

“No, I’m not staying at Grimmauld Place, no, I’m not staying at Privet Drive, stop making Sirius stay in the house where he was traumatized and abused, no you can’t order me about when it’s summer break. Does that about cover everything, Albus?”

“It is of the utmost-“

“Blah, blah, blah!” Harry exclaimed. “I don’t care! You know what I’ve trained to be, the fuckin’ obstacle course you set up in my first year is evidence enough, and I handled a horde of dementors and a basilisk! I’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to catching up with my friends.”

It was as Harry was exploring the area surrounding Grimmauld Place, familiarizing himself with a new location he would be visiting, that he, hands in the pockets of his jacket, glanced upwards and sent a thought out to the universe. He was unsurprised when Gabriel appeared, keeping pace at his side.

“Ya call, Sabrina?” He asked, taking a sip of the Big Gulp he was holding.

“Yeah, it’s about the ring you gave me. The teleportation one, not the Hallow.”

“Ah, damnit. I was hoping you’d take longer to figure out the item set. It was fun messing with you about it. Anyway, what’s up with the Grace ring?”

“Gabriel. Dude. My guy. My Christly brother in arms. What do mean Grace ring?”

“Did I not mention that I made that ring with some of my Grace?”

“No.” Harry sighed, closing his eyes in exasperation. “You did not mention that to me. Would you mind upgrading it?”

“Uh, in what way?” Gabriel asked, slurping his Big Gulp to punctuate the question.

“Mostly to get through Anti-Apparition wards. And to let me pop somewhere based on a photo, if possible.”

“Yeah, probably should have remembered that. Gimme ya hand.” He said, grabbing Harry’s hand when offered it and holding it for a few seconds before dropping it back down. “There ya go! If ya look at it, I added some eyes to the pattern. Just to make the change visible.”

“Thanks Gabe. You gonna be popping by Hogwarts this year?”

“Nosferatu still hasn’t learned his lesson from all my delightful fun, so yeah, I am. Plus, lets me lay low from the all the Hunters I’ve been messing with over in the States.”

“Great to hear! Guess I’ll learn some new recipes to bake for you. How d’ya feel about Italian pastries?”

“I mean, if they’re easier to get recipes for cus of your boyfriend go ahead. I just like your baking.”

“Being exploited for my baking. I may just faint.” Harry said, pretending to swoon.

“Ah, but how else will ya learn about the wonders of capitalism Sabrina?”

“So true, I forgot that I’d never learn such wonderful experiences as a Hunter! Truly a public service that you’re doing here Gabe. I’m headed to the Moon, wanna meet Frank? He’s been dying to meet the archangel I forgot to tell him about.”

“Oh please! I’m gonna have so much fun!”

“We might catch Pads as well. Who doesn’t know what you are.”

“Oh a twofer! I’ve decided, you’re my fave human now. Sweet treats, snark and prank victims? Definitely fave human.”

Chapter Text

Harry’s summer had been rather busier than summers prior, what with the firearms training he was getting from Frank, the situational awareness refresher he was getting as well, going to Grimmauld Place every week or so to catch up with Neville and Hermione, the weekly phone calls he had with Luna, the visits to Blaise, enchanting his motorcycle, and finding time to learn and practice new baking recipes to test on Gabriel that it was a wonder that he still managed to sleep.

It was as he was on one of his routine walks around Grimmauld Place, ensuring that there were no signs of demons and such that he felt the air suddenly chill out of nowhere, and saw the streetlights flicker before turning off. All he could do was sigh to himself before he pulled out a stick of salt-encrusted chalk and knelt down to recreate the circle he had constructed when he was protecting Sirius and wound up just waiting.

He didn’t have to wait very long, as it was barely a minute before he saw the dementors swooping down onto the street, floating their way to where Harry was standing. They didn’t make it particularly far, however, before Harry began reciting the Rituale Romanum, turning them to dust just as their aura began to affect him. As he wiped the chalk lines away, he contemplated whether he should go to the Moon or back to Grimmauld Place before deciding Frank would rather be the first to know.

“Hey Frank!” Harry called out from the bar stool he had popped onto.

“Hey kid. Ain’t you usually spending time with Granger and Longbottom ‘round abouts now?”

“Yeah, but I was going on my usual recon walk ‘round the area and had to deal with some dementors.”

“In London?”

“I know right? Anyway, given what the Prophet’s been saying about ‘unreliable sources of questionable sanity’ I’m pretty sure this was an organized thing. Which means- ah! There the owl is."

Harry proceeded to let the owl in and relieve it of its letter, watching as it flew away.

“Let’s see… yeah, ‘bout what I expected. ‘Parentally they’ve ‘received intelligence’ that I cast… the Patronus Charm? I don’t even know how to cast that spell. ‘Due to the severity’ blah, blah, blah, ‘resulted in your expulsion’ blah, blah, blah ‘destroy your wand’ blah, blah, blah ‘disciplinary hearing’ blah. Blah. Blah.” Harry read, before rolling the parchment up and putting it in his pocket. “Well, great seeing you Frank, but I have to pop back to the mystery building.”

As he popped onto the front steps of Number Twelve, Harry walked in and immediately headed to the kitchen, hoping Mrs. Weasley was there, instead of being on a cleaning crusade. Luckily, she was busy preparing a veritable feast of snacks for what seemed to be an upcoming Order meeting.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you be able to contact Dumbledore right about now?”

“He should be here any moment now, dearie. Now, what’s the matter? The twins tell me you usually sort out your issues yourself.”

“Ah, just a letter I got from the Ministry. Something about being expelled for casting a spell I don’t know.”

“Merlin’s Beard! Well I can see why you’d need to talk to him.” She replied, hurrying over to the fireplace and throwing some floo powder into it. “I’ll get him here right away.”

As she was talking to Dumbledore through the fireplace, Neville walked into the kitchen.

“Harry? Aren’t you usually checking the surrounding area right about now?”

“Yeah, but I hit a snafu. Mind getting ‘Mione from wherever she is? She’ll wanna know as well.”

At the same time as Mrs. Weasley stepped away from the fireplace and let Dumbledore through, Hermione and Neville entered the kitchen as well.

“Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley has relayed some rather disturbing news. Could I trouble you to relay the necessary context?”

“There I was, walking around the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, when suspicious things decided to come for me. Long story short, some dementors were after me.”

“I take it you exorcised them?”

“’Course I did ‘Mione.”

“Anyway, I go to the Moon, tell Frank what’s up and pick up the letter I was expecting from the Ministry. According to them I used the Patronus Charn in public and, thus, have been expelled from Hogwarts, and have to have a disciplinary hearing.”

“That’s… disturbingly fascistic.”

“Ain’t it just.”

“Well, it appears that Cornelius has forgotten that the Ministry requires concrete proof to override the Headmaster’s jurisdiction. Would you kindly present your wand, Mr. Potter? A simple Spell Echo charm should be more than adequate to disprove the Ministry’s claim.”

Seeing no reason to object, Harry held his wand out, being unsurprised by the Smokescreen spell that he had cast in the graveyard. Shortly after casting the counter to the charm, Dumbledore walked back through the fireplace, heading to the Ministry to resolve the issue.

“Lue just got back from Namibia and Blaise is gonna be popping by Diagon today. Y’all wanna meet up with them?”

“Yes! I’ve been dying to get out of this house.” Hermione answered.

“Yeah, I’ve got to agree with Hermione. Oh, by the way, there are some demonolatry books in the library here.”

“Eh, I’ll pick them up later. Now, ice cream!”

It was about an hour later that all five of them found themselves sitting in front of Florean Fortescue’s store, listening as Harry, who was letting Blaise paint his nails blue, gave a step-by-step recounting of what had happened.

“Well, that leaves us with a few things to consider.”

“Indeed, it does darl’, indeed it does. Motivation, capability and suspects. Any ideas?”

“Well, I think we can rule out Voldemort.”

“Why, Luna?” Neville asked. “Shouldn’t he be the prime suspect?”

“Normally yes, but if he had been responsible that would mean he had swayed the dementors to his side once more, and there would have been a mass prison break. That there hasn’t means it most likely wasn’t him.”

“Good point Lue. So, it was probably someone in the Ministry, likely higher up.”

“It could be someone acting on someone else’s behalf. I mean, it wouldn’t be something you’d want to have on your hands, right?” Hermione added, noting down what was being said as they spoke.

“Okay, so someone in the Ministry, likely a high up person, who organized the Dementor Event.” Blaise summarized.

“Which means it’s probably Fudge or someone who’s one of his supporters.”

“I don’t think it’s Fudge, meraviglia. He’s too much of a sniveling coward to even organize this. It’s more likely to be someone close to him.”

“I guess we’ll just have to- oh, hang on, Pads just texted me. Uh… huh. So, Dumbledore got me off of being expelled but Fudge is insisting on the disciplinary hearing. Well, guess we’ll have more clues soon.”

Chapter Text

Harry wasn’t particularly concerned about the disciplinary hearing he would have to attend. After all, he’d never planned on sticking around in Britain. Said plans, along with general complaints about the Ministry, was what Harry was talking to Frank, who was going to play the role of escort, about in the Moon.

“Oh, damn, we should probably get headed out to the Ministry.”

“Kid, we’d be two hours early if we headed out now.”

“Yes, however, it’s a Ministry headed by a guy that probably hates me. Better to be two hours early than wind up being late because he decided to move the hearing up an hour.”

“Good point. You know where the visitor entrance is ?”

“You’ve shown it to me, like, five times now, Frank. Yes, I know where it is. Catch ya there!”

If there was one reason for Harry to like magic, it was the fact that he was able to lane split without anyone trying to drive him off the road, which…rude, to say the least. The lack of interruptions was why he managed to make it to the phone booth in a little under half an hour, with Frank making it there a few minutes later.

“Hah! Beat ya here!”

“Yeah, ‘cus ya don’t need to stick in a lane.” Frank grumbled. “Get in the booth.”

When Frank put the password into the phone, a voice asked for the purpose of their visit, which Frank answered, causing two badges to be spat out, reading “Harry Potter, Bureaucratic Victim” and “Frank Thompson, Disgruntled” respectively, before announcing that they would be subject to a search and wand inspection as visitors.

When the booth finally finished its descent, Harry and Frank stepped out of it and into the line for the front desk. Which allowed Harry to see the fountain in the center of the Atrium. Which prompted him to start laughing.

“The fountain?” Frank asked, eyebrow arched.

“Oh my god, yes. Did - hah - did the sculptor ever actually meet a centaur? I mean, they’d rather shoot you than look at you like that! Granted, it’s ‘cus of stuff like that fountain but it’s ridiculous!”

“All I’ll say is it’s called ‘The Fountain of Magical Brethren’. I think that says enough.”

Eventually he and Frank made their way to the Security desk, where they were given a pass-over with a thin golden rod that vibrated at the boots, the front and back of the belt, the thigh and the sides of the hip, with the process only continuing when they both removed their knives and handguns, the attendant looking more concerned with each weapon.

When they finally moved on, the attendant took Harry’s wand and put it on a set of gold scales that printed what looked like a receipt.

“12 inches, Church Grim hair core, used for four years, correct?”

When he received confirmation, he repeated the procedure with Frank.

As they walked to the elevator, Harry decided to ask a question.

“Hey Frank, why’s the use time for your wand shorter than what would be normal?”

“’Cus I only got it when I transferred to Hogwarts. Mostly learned Spokane traditions from my Ma before that.”

“Huh. The more ya know.”

It was when they reached Amelia Bones’ office that Harry wanting to be even earlier than normal was proven to be a reasonable urge, if the note she had left with her secretary, a perfunctory “In the event that you are unreachable by owl, please make your way to Courtroom Ten, for eight ’o’clock”, was anything to go by. It took a little while to find their way to the courtroom, but they managed to find the entrance just in time for Harry to walk through at eight on the dot.

Looking up, Harry was immediately struck by how appalling the Wizengamot uniform was. The second was that the chair in the center had chains on it. Well, nothing else but to sit in it.

“You are cutting it rather finely, Mr. Potter.” Rang out an old man’s voice.

“And yet, here I am. On time.” Harry said, from where he was positively lounging in the chair.

Looking up from where he was, he could see Fudge, looking rather frustrated that he had been on time. Next to him was a rather unfortunate-looking witch who seemed incandescent with fury at his lack of care. On his other side was someone who looked related to Susan. Likely Amelia, he thought.

“Very well. With the accused present, we shall begin. Are you ready?” Fudge asked, receiving an eager response from Percy, who seemed poised to take notes.

“Disciplinary heari-“ Fudge began, before being cut off.

“I would like to contest that.” Harry called out.

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?” The unfortunate-looking witch asked, voice sickly sweet.

“This is a full sitting of the Wizengamot, which isn’t the standard procedure for a disciplinary hearing, but is for an adult’s trial. So, please make a note of that.”

“Disciplinary hearing.” Fudge said, looking even more upset. “Of the twelfth of August into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

“I would like to contest the charge. I never cast a single spell, as you would know, given that Hogwarts’ Headmaster-“ Harry began before the doors to the courtroom were opened.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, also acting as witness for the defense.”

“Love the dramatic timing, sir.”

“Well, I do believe a good entrance is key to making an impression.”

“And a fantastic one it was! Now, as I was saying Mr. Dumbledore was able to overturn my pre-emptive expulsion, thus I would like to contest the charges of the trial.”

“Interrogators-“ Fudge continued, face rather red by now, making an effort to ignore both himself and Dumbledore’s interruptions. “Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. You got our… message about the changes, then?”

“I must have missed it.” Dumbledore replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he conjured a chair and sat down. “However, due to a lucky mistake, I arrived in the Ministry three hours early. It seems a similar incident happened to Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, well… the charges. The charges against the accused are that he did knowingly, deliberately and fully aware of the illegality of his actions produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle inhabited area on August the second at twenty-five minutes past three, constituting a violation of Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and section thirteen of the International Statute of Secrecy.”

“You are Harry James Potter, of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?”

“Yes.”

“Did you conjure a Patronus on the afternoon of the second of August?”

“No.”

“Knowi-“ Fudge began, before stopping and restarting. “Does the defendant have evidence to his claim?”

“A Spell Echo performed by my witness, who is still qualified to perform said spell for trials despite being relieved of his duties to this governing body.”

“The witness for the defense claims that the cause of the charges is in relation to dementors. Have you evidence?” Madame Bones asked.

“Not of a form that would be admissible within court.”

“Whatever could you mean, Mr. Potter?” Umbridge asked, simpering tone failing to hide the hate in her gaze.

“Well, memories are admissible evidence in Statute of Secrecy related trials, however, as I am a minor, if I were to supply a memory for said trial it would be in violation of the the Underage Testimonial Act of 1725, which would also prohibit the use of veritaserum, as Minister Fudge had to be reminded of by my boyfriend during my third year at Hogwarts.”

“I fail to see the relevance Mr. Potter.”

“You have decided I’m guilty, in spite of evidence provided by a qualified party. Further evidence would be illegal to provide. However, you still think I’ve already done something illegal. Without conclusive evidence, might I add.”

“The presence of dementors is not the purpose of this hearing!” Fudge snapped out, looking remarkably similar to a tomato. “We are here to discuss Mr. Potter’s offenses!”

“Madame Bones, you are a qualified party to perform Spell Echo Charms for hearings and trials, correct?” Harry asked, after a long, protracted sigh.

“Of course, as are all Department Heads.”

“Would you kindly perform the aforementioned spell, to prove that I did not cast the Patronus Charm?”

In the face of the, rather undeniable, evidence, Fudge quickly called for a vote, looking rather upset when a majority voted to clear him of the charges.

“I must say, you did a fine job at defanging Cornelius’ argument, Mr. Potter, a fine job indeed!” Dumbledore exclaimed.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you showing up in case it was necessary. And again, great dramatic timing.”

“Ah well, when one is as old as I am they have time to develop such a talent.” Dumbledore chuckled.

With the court case out the way, Harry stopped by Grimmauld where everyone else was waiting and took them all out for celebratory milkshakes, informing him of the new suspect he had for the Dementor Event.

Chapter Text

Harry was sitting in his usual compartment, ignoring the conversations going on around him, focusing on emailing out the orders he had gotten from various Hunters, pausing when he spotted a name he recognized, one that was out of the ordinary.

“Winchester again? Huh.”

[email protected]: Information on Yellow-Eyed Demon. Will pay whatever asked.

[email protected]: I’ll need a phone number. I don’t do demon information that leaves a trail.

What followed was an email with the Winchester’s latest number, and a parting word from Harry before he departed to the restroom

“James Evans.”

“John Winchester. You said you wanted info on a yellow-eyed demon.”

“Yeah. You gonna ask why?”

“No. I’d ask if you were going for a creature ident, but you aren’t and it’s clearly personal.” Harry replied. “Eye color isn’t mentioned in the lore, but I’ve managed to pick up a thing or two. You’re looking for a Prince of Hell. I can get you a summoning rite for that class of demon, but we’d have to meet up in person. I’m not risking that info getting out to the public.”

“Hmph. Guess the rumors about you were accurate. What state are you in?”

“Right now, I’m not in one of the States, but I’ll be able to get there pretty quick. Which one are you in?”

“I’m in Chicago right now.”

“Okay, you able to get Charlie Trotter’s? On Armitage Avenue?” Harry said, consulting a map of Chicago he had taken from his satchel.

“Yeah. What time?”

“Uh…” Harry began, having to calculate the time difference. “Two in the afternoon, your time?”

“Got it.” John replied, before hanging up.

When Harry got back to the compartment, he was confronted by Luna, Blaise, Neville and Hermione all facing him, with Blaise holding a box.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

“We, along with Frank, Gabriel and Castor decided to make a gift of sorts for you.” Neville replied.

“Which would be?”

“Hair beads, meraviglia. One for each of us.”

Opening the box, Harry saw seven beads. One made of jade, with snakes engraved on them, another of green aventurine with a pattern of leaves and vines, one of amethyst with a repeating swirling pattern, a bead of lapis lazuli, with an angular pattern that repeated itself, one of obsidian with the Canis Major constellation, one of smoky quartz with a droplet and pentacles, and one last one made of pyrite with a feather based pattern.

“Okay, they look nice, but what’s the reason?” Harry asked, threading the beads onto a braided lock of hair.

“Hermione was the one to propose the idea, and Luna helped to weave the enchantments. Each bead is tied to one of us, with a slight alert charm to let you know if anything is wrong with their respective person.”

“’Cus I’m headed to the US at the end of fifth year?”

“Yes. Blaise was the one that insisted on it after it was proposed.”

“Darl’, you’re such a sap.”

“Yes, well, it seemed prudent. Now, meraviglia, what was the call about?”

“Oh, that. A call from John Winchester. Real big name in the Hunting scene stateside.”

“Ah, the one with the dead wife and two kids, right? He’s rather rude in his emails.” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, that one. Anyway, he’s been hunting some demon that killed his wife since it happened, and finally asked if I have anything.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The only thing I gave him over the phone was that he was after a Prince. He’s in Chicago right now so we organized a place for us to meet so I can give him more info. I’m gonna be popping out of Britain to meet up with him.”

“Is he a part of the passworded list?”

“Yeah. When I gave Bobby the password, I told him to give it to the people he trusts, and he might not really like John, but he does trust him.”

“Well, at least you’ll be able to apply privacy charms.”

“How did you know I got a wand license?”

“Harry, you mentioned applying for it last year, and you haven’t any criminal record. Of course the United Magical Federation was going to approve your application.”

With the business and gifting done, Harry pulled out his journal and a set of files from his satchel, leafing through them to collate the information he’d have to bring with him when he met John. Thankfully, he had managed to snag the demonolatry and demonology books that Neville had spotted in Grimmauld Place, which had happened to have the rite he would be giving John.

He was only temporarily distracted from his thoughts when he walked into the Great Hall.

“Fuck.” Harry muttered, before pulling Neville toward the Ravenclaw table, moving to sit there as well.

“Amore mio, I do believe that you and Neville are at the wrong tables.”

“Yeah, well fuck that. Look at the Head Table.”

The four of them quickly noticed the same thing Harry had.

“That is… concerning.”

“I dunno, ‘Mione, I’d call it dictatorial.”

“Look on the bright side, the curse is gonna get her.”

“Ya know what… good point Lue.”

Chapter Text

When Harry finally had the chance to slip out of the castle, he landed in an alley that was two blocks from Charlie Trotter’s, making it there about twenty minutes early. He’d had to meet people in person for package orders before, so he’d developed a bit of a system, the main part being a thirty-minute grace period for being late to meetups. You couldn’t expect a Hunter to be on time all the time, after all. Which was why he called John when he didn’t show up within that time span.

The only problem? He didn’t pick up.

“Goddamnit Winchester.” Harry muttered, dialing a new number as he did. “Hey Bobby. I need ya help dealing with a fuckin’ idjit.”

“Evans? Ain’t you s’posed to be in Scotland?”

“Yeah, but I got a demon order that made me come stateside. So now I’m in fuckin’ Chicago and I need to find John fuckin’ Winchester!”

“I guess he finally got that stick outta his ass and decided to get help. Why d’ya need my help dealing with that idjit?”

“’Cus he’s late to our meeting and the call didn’t go through. Ya know which crappy motel he’s staying in?”

“For once I do. Called me outta nowhere to let me know. Good to know why.”

What followed next was Bobby listing off an address and room number, as well as a name. Location acquired, Harry popped back to the Moon to collect his bike, as well as a suit in his size.

Pulling up in the parking lot, Harry walked up to the front desk of the Admiral Motel and pulled out the I.D card that Frank had enchanted with a minor Confundus charm.

“Morning sir, I’m Detective O’Callahan. I need access to Room 5. We’ve had a missing person’s report filed and his last known location was this building.”

After an explanation of being older than he looked, he was given a key to the room. When he entered the room, the newspaper clippings and threads that were attached to the wall.

“Let’s see, man drowned by… rain? Woman strangled by… fucking’ daisies. Ah… ha. Goddamnit! Trickster… there’s gotta be more info.”

After looking at the rest of the obituaries, as well as finding notes scattered across the room, Harry figured out who the trickster was.

“Manannán mac fuckin’ Lir. Do I have a...” Harry muttered to himself, looking in his satchel for any willow wood. And not finding any.

Having spotted a Lowes nearby, Harry popped there and picked up a hunk of willow wood that he quickly whittled into a stake after popping back into the motel room.

After grabbing the jar of blood from one of mac Lir’s victims, Harry picked up one of John’s shirts from the duffel bag on the bed, before cutting the tip of his finger and flinging droplets of blood at the four cardinal directions and muttering a string of Latin, receiving an image of where John and mac Lir were.

“Great, an abandoned warehouse.” Harry muttered, having changed out of the suit he was wearing. “Fuckin’ stereotype.”

Walking into the warehouse, Harry thought through how he would deal with Manannán. The Smokescreen Spell was out, seeing as it summoned fog and mac Lir was a god of water. Leaving him with the prototype Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder he had gotten from the Twins.

As he got close to the room where they were, the door slightly ajar, Harry threw the crystal at the ground. Thankfully for him, the prototype he had been given didn’t create perfect darkness for the person who threw it. Which the Twins didn't want, for some reason.

“Oh! Has a little wizard come to play?” rang out the lilting voice of mac Lir. “Mr. Winchester did mention you might come for him, but you and I know your magic won’t touch me.”

Using the Ventriloquist charm, Harry projected his voice to the far end of the room.

“Maybe not, but that’s only if I’m not creative.”

“Ah, little swallow, you seem to have made a mistake.” He said, doing something that seemed to fail.

“Or have I?” Harry asked, voice coming from directly behind mac Lir, who he watched whirl around, suddenly holding a sword.

As he was taunting mac Lir, he had been conjuring some oil under his feet, sneaking closer, finally summoning a broken pipe, letting it hit Manannán’s face, causing him to fall because of the oil under him.

Rushing forward, Harry stabbed the blood-coated stake through the prone god’s heart, just as the darkness dissipated.

“Nighty-night!” Harry said, watching the light leave his eyes. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, he coated the body in kerosene, lighting it on fire with a Zippo, watching it burn out before turning to John.

“Hey, you awake?” Harry asked, not receiving an answer. “Damnit! Right, time to move an unconscious dude.”

Levitating John to where Harry had parked his bike took a while, but eventually, the two of them found themselves back in John's motel room. While Harry was waiting for John to wake up, he made a pot of coffee and poured himself some. As he sat himself down on the chair in the room, John finally came to on the motel bed.

“Oh good! I thought you might have been dead.”

“Where the hell am I?”

“Back in your motel room. Hi, nice to meet you. James Evans.”

“You deal with the trickster then?”

“Yup.” Harry said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Manannán mac Lir is dead and toast.”

“How’d you find me?”

“First, I called Bobby. We’re kinda friends, as much as that means for him. Second, an obscure Latvian locator spell.”

“Bobby? As in Bobby Singer?”

“Yeah, we’ve been emailing each other since I was... oh, fourteen I think.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen!” Harry said cheerfully. “Got into the biz at seven ‘cus of a wendigo. Been active for about seven years of that decade. ‘Course, Uncle Frank can only take me on hunts during summer break ‘cus of boarding school. Now, the info order.”

“Right. What’ve you got?”

“The main thing is a summoning rite for Princes, it’s a general rite, not a specific one. Second thing is some advice. Word on the grapevine is that, whoever your yellow-eyed demon is, he works alongside two other demons. Calls them his son and daughter. Watch out for the daughter. Great liar, even better at manipulating spirits and lower demons to do her dirty work.” Harry said, handing over the dossier he had assembled on the Express.

“How much?” John asked, looking through the manilla folder, face looking pinched when Harry sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“Demon info is… pricy, ‘specially the higher-ups.” Harry said. “$1,250. Minimum.”

“The hell!” John yelled.

“Listen, John. Not only are you looking to kill a demon, yes I’ve heard about the Colt business, no I’m not telling you where it is that would cost more, don’t look at me like that.” Harry started, scolding John when he looked like he was about to start up again. “Not only are you looking to kill a demon, you’re looking to kill a Prince of Hell. I’m putting my neck on the line as well here.”

“Fine.” John spat out.

“Great! Bobby has my banking details. Now, I need to finish cleaning up your mess.”

Casting a quick glamor charm, Harry walked up to the front desk to let the attendant know that Michael, as John had named himself, had been found safe and sound. Loose ends tied up, he popped back to Hogwarts, only getting to bed at one in the morning, given the wards he had to set up.

Chapter Text

“According to the Twins you weren’t in Gryffindor Tower at all last night.” Hermione said, in lieu of greeting Harry as she sat down.

“That’s ‘cus I wasn’t.” Harry replied. “I’ve moved out the dorms. And before you go on about ‘social behavior’ and it being important in down time, or whatever, Gabe decided to move in with me. Isn’t that right Gabe? Oh also, the whole Winchester thing. I’ll give y’all the rundown later.”

“Yeah! I tried convince him to throw a party, but he insisted it would be ‘counterintuitive’ to why he moved out.”

“’Moved out’, meraviglia? I presume this relates to Gryffindor Tower?”

“Yeah, I figured I’d move into one of the abandoned towers.” Harry answered, giving Blaise a quick kiss. “Make it harder for Umbridge to find me, seeing as I’m gonna be skipping her classes. Well, the ones after the first lesson.”

“Speaking of lessons.” Neville said, walking up to where the rest of the group was sitting, waving some parchment. “I collected our timetables. Looks like you three have her first period. Seems like Ravenclaws are paired with Gryffindor for Defense in general. Luna’s has her with the Gryff’s as well.”

“Oh, Ginny will like that!” Luna said. “She always liked helping me with Defense.”

Walking into the classroom, Harry, Blaise and Hermione sat at the back of the class. The first thing that he noticed was that Umbridge was wearing the same outfit that she had on the prior night.

“Good afternoon!” She exclaimed as soon as everyone had sat down, voice sickly sweet.

Clearly not receiving the enthusiastic and joyful response that she was looking for, she ordered them to greet her. Harry just recorded her saying “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge” and played it back when prompted.

“There we are! Now, put your wands away, and take out your quills, please.” She said, pulling out her own wand and tapping it against the chalkboard. “Your education in Defense Against the Dark Arts has been rather lackluster and disrupted, hasn’t it? The changing of teachers, only one of which followed a Ministry approved curriculum! You are quite behind the standard expected for your O.W.L year.”

She then explained that they would be following a standardized, theory-centric, Ministry-approved course, before listing the course aims and asking if everyone had acquired the required textbook, which she promptly told them to read the first chapter of. Harry, Blaise and Hermione, having already read the book, left theirs closed. It took a while, but Umbridge eventually noticed that none of them were reading the assigned chapter and that the rest of the class was looking at them.

“Is there a problem? Perhaps a question about the chapter?” she asked.

“My friends and I have already read through the entire book. Not only does it not provide any exercises for practical applications of defensive spells, most of the advice in this bullshit excuse of a textbook would get you killed in a real fight.” Harry answered.

“There’s also the fact that your course aims have nothing about practical application either, indicating you have no plans on teaching us those skills in class.” Hermione tacked on.

“Ten points for your foul language, Mr. Potter.” Umbridge said, giving a full-toothed smile. “And using defensive spells? I can’t imagine a scenario where you would need to use defensive magic in my classroom. Are you expecting an attack of some sort?”

“Given that of the four professors we’ve had, one attacked Harry at the end of the school year, another was revealed as having Obliviated all the people who did what he claimed he had, after having hospitalized himself, and one was an escaped convict who had been in prison for about a month before escaping, I would say the odds are quite high. Madam Umbridge.” Blaise answered.

“Yes, well, that was when you had substandard instructors.” Umbridge retorted, her veneer of a smile stretching thin. “It is the belief of the Ministry that knowledge of theory shall be more than enough in real life, as well as for passing your exams.”

“Well that’s just patently incorrect.” Harry scoffed. “Petty criminals, dangerous creatures, malicious items, they’re all things an adult magic user has to contend with. A lack of practical Defense education is how we get today’s situation where, according to Ministry records, only twenty percent of Magical Britain can cast a basic Shield Charm!”

“Detention! Mr. Potter. Every evening for the entire week.” Umbridge shouted, looking fed up.

“Oh yeah, what’s the reason?” Harry asked, lacing as much sarcasm as he could into the question.

“Disrespect of a teacher, and disruption of the learning environment.”

“Hmph. Okay.” Harry said, pulling his satchel over his head, as he stood up. “I won’t be going.”

“Mr. Potter return to your seat!” Umbridge yelled as he walked to the door, receiving naught but Harry flipping her the bird in response as he walked out the room.

As Harry threw his satchel onto the futon he had set up on one side of his floor of the tower, he yelled out “Hey Gabe, I’m back!”

“So, how bad is she?” He asked, sliding down the banister next to the stairs leading to his level.

“Honestly?” Harry said, moving to the small kitchenette he had cobbled together with Gabriel’s help. “About what I expected on the practical side of things, as well as the fashy side of things. Root beer?”

“So, seen enough to decide who gets to deal with her?” Gabriel asked, catching the soda that Harry had thrown his way.

“Nah, not yet.” Harry answered after taking a sip of his own drink. “I wanna wait to hear from Nev and Lue first, though the urge to gank her is strong, and growing. For now, back to sprucing up our new castle apartment. You wanna help with setting up the library, or are we gonna work on your floor?”

“I was thinking my floor. Seeing as I’m going full human, I made a disguise!” Gabe said, before snapping his fingers, changing from the early-thirties man with straw-blonde hair that had a slight coif to a seventeen-year-old, with short, jet-black hair, but the same honeyed-amber eyes he had before.

“Huh. You kinda look like you could be my brother. Anyway, you mind teaching me some tricks? Mainly the clicking thing.”

“Eh, why not? Also, kinda the point. We literally live together. Also, you make a killer alcoholic chocolate cake so, ya know, I’ve decided you’re cooler than my actual brothers, so I'm informally adopting you as one. Why else would I have agreed to a hair bead?”

“Fair.”

Chapter Text

Harry and Gabriel were sitting in the Clubroom, plotting when Hermione, Blaise, Luna and Neville walked in.

“Hey guys! Ya wanna help Gabe and I with plotting, or ya wanna see our new crib?”

“If I’m being honest, we could use something so… mundane.” Neville said, sounding exhausted.

“Let me guess. Umbridge?” Harry asked, getting a nod from both him and Luna. “Well, that can wait till after the tour and the debrief on my meeting.”

It took a while to get to the entrance of the tower that Gabriel had dubbed ‘Casa de Evans’, seeing as the Clubroom was on the second floor of the castle and all of the towers were on the seventh. They eventually found themselves in front of a portrait of an armory, which permitted them entry when Harry said ‘Foxglove’.

“Welcome to Casa de Evans!” Harry said, twirling into a mock bow. “Blame Gabe for the name. He’s the epitome of cheesiness.”

“Do you want to go to TV Land?”

“Like you’d actually do that. Anyway, first floor is mine, avoid the second floor if you wanna avoid being mentally scarred, the kitchenette is fully stocked with y’all’s favorite snacks and drinks and stuff, there’s the library, it’s got copies of all of my books, and the lounge area.”

“Harry, is that a TV? And are those outlets?”

“Oh yeah! Gabe managed to make some outlets that turn ambient magic into regular electricity, so boom! TV. Also a full sound system.”

With the rather short tour done, and everyone clustered on the couches with various snacks and drinks, Blaise was the first one to speak.

“So, amore mio, how did your meeting with Winchester go?”

“Ugh. He never showed up to the actual meeting, so I checked where he was staying with Bobby and the dumbass somehow managed to get trapped by a trickster he was dealing. Had to deal with mac Lir for him, but eventually got the information passed over. And got paid obviously.”

“Wait, which Winchester?” Gabriel asked, looking unnervingly interested.

“Uh, John. Why?”

“Keep an eye on his kids. I’ll, uh, explain later.” Gabriel answered, giving the others a quick glance.

“Okay? Anyway, Umbridge sitch?”

“Besides being thoroughly unpleasant, she mostly ignored the Hufflepuff’s in my lesson. She favored the Slytherin’s though. Then of course there was the propaganda, but that was expected.”

“She was harshest to the Ravenclaw’s in my lesson. There was quite the outcry when she said that the course was theory-focused. She gave quite a few students detentions.”

“What’s your standing in the gossip chain like sweetheart?”

“Still the uncontested head of it. I’ll be sure to relay anything I hear about the detentions.”

“Thanks darl’.”

Eventually, the conversation wound down, only slightly caused by Harry putting on a Halloween VHS. Once the movie was finished, Neville and Luna left together, looking for obscure plants in the Forest, with Blaise and Hermione needing to ask Professor Vector something about Arithmancy. Leaving Gabriel and Harry alone.

“So, why do I need to keep an eye on John’s kids?”

“First, what do you know about them?”

“Uh, Dean Winchester, born January twenty-fourth nineteen-seventy-nine, age twenty-six, eldest brother, drives a nineteen-sixty-seven Chevy Impala, and active Hunter with no break period. Sam Winchester, younger brother, born May second, nineteen-eighty-three, age twenty-two, active Hunter though he stopped when he went to Stanford for prelaw, rumored to have psychic visions.”

“Ol’ Sammy does have visions, they’re caused by the demon blood that Azazel fed to him when he was a baby.”

“I’m sorry, the Winchester’s are trying to kill Azazel? As in current reigning King of Hell?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I was going on about. Deano and Sammy, they’re important. Like, on a cosmic level.”

“Any more info?” Harry asked, before sighing at the look on Gabriel’s face. “Let me guess, Heaven’s non-interference policy?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Well, my next lesson is Defense, then after that nothing but the weekend, and I’m annoyed with your dickbag family. Wanna do shots?”

The next day Harry was regretting the night before. Severely. Understandable, seeing as he and Gabriel had stayed up until midnight doing shots, as well as playing poker after he had suggested inviting the Weasley Twins to join.

Blaise gave him one look before handing him a vial of Dog’s Hair Brew, which he promptly shot-gunned.

“Love ya darlin’”

“And I you, meraviglia. Now, business.”

“Oh. You hear anything ‘bout the detentions?”

“Yes. Luna told me about the aftermath of one Mia Flores’ detention. She was writing lines. ‘I will not question a Ministry official.’”

“Why do I get feeling that there’s something more?”

“She had her use a blood quill.”

Chapter Text

After Blaise’s declaration, Harry quickly sent a group message, which was why the entire Monster Club, plus Gabriel, could be found in Harry’s makeshift apartment.

“I’m killing Umbridge.”

“That is a… rather quick pivot from yesterday’s stance.” Hermione commented.

“Yeah, well, she’s torturing kids, so I think it’s kinda a moot point now.”

“I’m sorry what?” Hermione yelled.

“Mia came back from her detention last night cradling her hand. I asked if she was okay but she said she didn’t want to talk about it and that I wouldn’t believe her. It took a while but I got her to show her hand to me. She had words carved into her hand.” Luna broke in, uncharacteristically somber.

“She was using a blood quill.” Blaise added.

“Well then. How can we help?”

What followed next was an hour’s worth of planning. In the end, it found Harry and Blaise making out in the library, being loud enough for Madam Pince to kick them out. Having established an alibi, Harry snuck away under his Cloak, looking for Umbridge’s office, whilst Blaise went to the Clubroom and began brewing. Neville, who had managed to coast under her radar followed him, saying that he was confused about a part of the chapter they had read in class, and could she please help explain it? He claimed to have asked the portraits for directions, which he had in case she considered checking.

The door being open gave Harry a long enough time to see the inside of the office. To make sure that she would be alone that night, instead of overseeing a detention, Luna got the Weasley Twins to slip something to the right student, leaving them in the Hospital Wing for the next two days. Hermione played her part by heading into the Chamber of Secrets and setting up a temporary holding facility.

With the individual pieces in place, Harry set the plan into motion. Equipped with a Bubble Head Charm and a small vial with holes deposited on one side, filled with Orphic Unction, Harry popped into Umbridge’s office when he knew she would be marking homework. Thanking the fact that his ring kept the quietness of angelic flight, he cast a quick spell, filling the vial with glass, forcing the potion to aerosolize.

Using Orphic Unction was a gamble. It was simple enough to brew in the time frame that they had, but it worked best when slipped into someone’s food or drink. Aerosolizing it was an easier way of ensuring Umbridge was affected by it, but it lasted a shorter amount of time.

Luckily it lasted long enough for Harry to get her into the impromptu interrogation area Hermione had made, as well as make her office look like there had been a struggle.

“Dolores! Welcome back to the land of the living!” Harry said, cheerful voice betrayed by the look he was giving her.

“Mr. Potter! Where am I? What is the meaning of this?” She demanded, voice colored with fear.

“Shh, shh, those questions are useless. Now, we all know that you aren’t here to try and teach, so what did Cornelius actually tell you to do?”

“Why should I tell you brat? I’ll have you thrown in Azkaban for this! Maybe even the Dementor’s Kiss!” She screamed, watching Harry circle her.

“Really Dolores?” Harry asked, sighing as he sat down and opened a box. “Do you know what this is, Dolores? I wouldn’t expect you to, they’re exceedingly rare.”

“This, Dolores, is a basilisk’s fang.” Harry placed the fang he had collected in second year on the table, as he watched her face pale dramatically. “Now, you can tell me what Cornelius told you to do. Or I can stab you with this fang, filling your blood stream with basilisk venom. It’s quite a painful way to die from what I hear.”

“Y-you wouldn’t!” Umbridge blustered.

“But I would go through painstaking lengths to kidnap you when no one who could speak could see?” Harry asked, watching the realization dawn on her.

“Fine! I was instructed to stamp out your foul lies, and to prevent the Headmaster from amassing a child army. We know he’s trying to take over the Ministry!”

“Putting aside the fact that I haven't said jack about Voldemort, where, uh, does the child torture factor in?” Harry asked, seeing Umbridge’s eyes widen. “Yes, I know about the blood quills Dolores. You really have underestimated me, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Potter.”

“Well, I’m friends with the Prophet’s rival’s daughter, but I also happen to be dating Blaise Zabini.” Harry commented, feeling a spark of glee when he saw her finally connect the dots. “Really, you’re lucky I’m the one who got to you, 'specially since ya had me down for detention. The Contessa is so very protective. Now, the blood quills?”

“Th-they were approved by Cornelius. A measure to stamp out any dissident speech.” Umbridge replied, stuttering slightly when she realized how badly she and the Minister had erred.

“Well, that’s about everything I wanted to know.” Harry said, reaching behind himself, near the waistband of his jeans. “Goodbye, Dolores.”

All that was heard was the gunshot.

Chapter Text

Harry was unsurprised by the length of time it took for Umbridge’s disappearance to be reported. More precisely, it was already October by the time the Aurors entered the Great Hall, walking up to the Head Table.

“Okay.” Harry said. “We expected this. ‘Mione?”

“I was discussing arithmantic theories and equations with Helena.”

“Nev?”

“After asking Umbridge to explain something I was tending to a Venomous Tentacula in Greenhouse Four.”

“Lue?”

“Discussing a research project with Professor Babbling.”

“Then, of course, Blaise and I were canoodling.” Harry said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gabriel, meraviglia.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’m probably gonna be the main suspect, given that she was a Ministry official and the Ministry does not like me, but that also means y’all are gonna be people of interest.”

Looking at the Head Table, Harry spotted Kingsley and Tonks, along with two others that he didn’t recognize. He wanted to keep an eye on them as they inspected Umbridge’s office but refrained. It wouldn’t do to make himself look even more suspicious.

Even with the alibi he and Blaise had established, he was still questioned. Annoying on his part, but a logical decision. He had been seen having a confrontation with her the last time she had seen him, as well as being a figure of disagreement with the Ministry.

“Mr. Potter, when was the last time you saw Madam Umbridge?” Tonks asked.

The useful thing about information, in Harry’s opinion, was that the concept of ‘truths’ was far more malleable than people tended to realize. Technically, the last time he had seen Madame Umbridge was at his trial. Harry knew that wasn’t what they wanted, however. They wanted to know when he had last seen Professor Umbridge.

And, technically, that wasn’t Dolores.

“My first lesson with her.”

“What happened in it, and why hadn’t you seen her since?” The other auror, who had been introduced as Dawlish, asked brusquely.

“Well, I stopped attending her lessons afterward. As for the first question, mostly arguing about how ineffectual and dangerous her course aims and teaching style were.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Potter?” Tonks asked,  clearly concerned.

“Oh, she wasn’t going to have any practical exercises whatsoever. Her textbook’s also filled with advice that would get you killed in real life. Oh, I forgot, there’s also the fact that I refuse to be taught by a fascist plant.”

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Potter?” Dawlish asked, tone colored with threat ever so slightly.

“Well, she was clearly sent here to kneecap the capability of the students to defend themselves, as well as ruin the O.W.L and N.E.W.T results. In the context of Dumbledore being removed as Chief Warlock it’s an obvious effort to create a servile country free of dissident speech.”

“Mr. Potter let’s not be hasty-“ Tonks began, looking a little constipated, before she was cut off by Harry.

“Okay, are you gonna ask me where I was when y’all think she went missing or not?”

“Yes!” Tonks said, looking relieved to be back on a less fraught topic. “Where were you on the tenth of September?”

“I was with my boyfriend, Blaise.”

“That would be Mr. Zabini, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what were you and Mr. Zabini doing?” Tonks asked, face clearly displaying what she thought of the question.

“Well, it started with a rather involved make out session that got us kicked out of the library-“ Harry began, before being cut off by Dawlish.

“We’ve heard enough. You’re free to go. For now.”

As Harry exited the interview room, Harry had one thought.

“Well, that went better than I’d expected.”

That mood was quickly deflated by a message from Luna that had him popping into his room, followed by everyone else rushing in a little while after.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“There’s a spell to find corpses.”

“What.” Harry said, voice heavier sounding than normal.

“I only know because I saw that friendly looking auror, Robards I think he said was his name, cast it and head to Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“Okay.” Harry said, sounding slightly frantic. “That’s fine, they’d need a Parselmouth to get in, what are the odds that there’s more than two in Britain?”

“Uh… Harry?”

“Yeah Nev?”

“The headmaster has a phoenix.”

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s something phoenixes can do that isn’t mentioned in mundane lore?”

“If a phoenix or their companion knows roughly where a place is, the phoenix can get into it.”

“And Dumbledore knows roughly where the Chamber is.” Harry said.

“More importantly, he’s already in a precarious position. If he wants to keep Hogwarts relatively Ministry free he has to stay headmaster, which means complying with the aurors.” Hermione added.

Nobody spoke for a while after Hermione’s declaration.

“Okay then.” Harry said, breaking the silence. “Let’s go over what to do. I already have plans in place to get out of Britain, so I can move those up if necessary. Darl’?”

“Under normal circumstances I would be safe, given how diplomatic immunity works in the Wizarding World, but seeing how the Ministry is going Mother put measures in place.”

“You might have to use them. You made the knock-out agent, so they might charge you as a conspirator. ‘Mione?”

“Dad has a holiday home in France that he inherited. We can move there if necessary.”

“Good. Nev, you should be good, so should you Lue.” Harry said. “Neither of you directly helped, so they’d have a weak argument.”

In the time they had until supper, Harry got Gabriel to make a replica of his satchel before putting all of the books on the shelves into it, handing it to Hermione, in case she would have to run as well.

When they were finally in the Great Hall for supper, Blaise noticed the look of worry Harry was sporting.

“What’s the matter?” Blaise asked, slipping his hand into Harry’s. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I know darl’, I just… I don’t like it when my plans are messed with. And I don’t like unknowns.”

“And there are unknown factors that are altering your plans.”

“Yeah…. Plus, you and ‘Mione are in danger as well.”

“Which is why we have contingencies.”

It was as the meal was finished that the aurors burst into the Great Hall.

“Harry James Potter, Blaise Luciano Zabini, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of Dolores Jane Umbridge.”

Chapter Text

The moment the auror finished speaking, Harry and Blaise vanished from the Great Hall.

“Sweetheart, why are we in your room?”

“I have some ingredients, talismans and charm bags I left in case this didn’t happen.” Harry said, rushing around the room, dumping the items he forgot into his satchel. “C’mon!”

Blaise took the offered hand, looking around as he found himself in the fifth-year Gryffindor Dorm, watching as Harry scattered some hexbags where the aurors would find them.

“One last stop before the mystery house darl’.” Harry said before popping them into Number Four Privet Drive.

“Harry, what are you doing? You aren’t supposed to be back yet.” Petunia asked, disturbed by the sudden appearance of two people in her living room.

“Yeah, well, I’m kinda a fugitive now. Frank’s gonna have some guys by to ward the house against magic folk.” Harry said, hurrying up the stairs to his room.

Petunia looked on in stunned silence as Harry shrunk the large set of drawers that were filled with the various plant cuttings, animal bones, antique coins, crystals and soil types he had collected over the years.

“Wait!” Petunia called as Harry went back down the stairs, taking off a necklace she was wearing, and taking the ring off of it.

Looking back, Harry saw her extended hand, accepting the ring.

“It… it used to be your mothers. She… she would want you to have it.”

Harry looked at the ring. It was a silver band, with a piece of jade, hematite and lapis lazuli surrounded by a vine pattern, with a small pearl situated at the back of the ring.

“Ya know, I wouldn’t be what I am without your help, and I’d never have gotten the chance if I was in the tent that night.” Harry said, slipping the ring on his left middle finger. “So, thank you. And I hope you have a good life, for what it’s worth.

His last glimpse of his aunt was her wiping away a tear.

With the last of his belongings collected, Harry took himself and Blaise to Grimmauld Place, where Sirius met them and gave Blaise a piece of parchment.

“Okay, what happened?” Sirius asked, sounding frantic. “Why is Blaise with you, why are you here, why did you say you’re on the run?”

“The Defense professor who probably set dementors on me was torturing kids using a blood quill, I dealt with her, Blaise was the most involved in helping me, the aurors found her body and I was the main suspect.”

“That doesn’t really explain Blaise being here!”

“I kidnapped her first, do you really think they wouldn’t have tested for potions?”

“Okay, what about everyone else?”

“Nev and Lue are safe, ‘Mione is a possible conspiracy suspect so Gabe is staying there a while to make sure he can get her to safety if needs be.”

“Okay.” Sirius said, slowly exhaling before continuing. “I’m going to need so much alcohol. Can I help with anything?”

Harry paused, running through the checklist in his mind, as well as anything else he might need done, or not done.

“Yes, actually. Don’t mention we were here to anyone and, if possible, redirect anyone that does ask to, like, Japan or something."

“Yeah, okay, I can do that. What are you two going to do?”

“Well, I’m gonna head to the States. Darl’ what about you?”

“Well, I’ll be accompanying you, of course.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, Mother trusts very few people and would be loath to put my safety into the hands of someone I don’t like, and I rather dislike most of the security contractors she works with.”

“At least I’ll have company on the road.”

“Okay then. What do you need?”

“We’re here for the library.” Harry said, walking up the stairs, being followed by Sirius and Blaise.

Blaise immediately began looking through the potions, poisons and antidotes books, putting the ones he wanted in his bag, while Harry immediately went to the herbalist and creature sections, pocketing most of the books that he saw, with Sirius recommending some as well as passing a few books on curses and their counters.

After a stop at Gringotts to transfer a chunk of his vault to Sovereigns, Trites and Litras, Harry took himself and Blaise to The Hunter’s Moon, where they were met by a tired-looking Frank.

“Hey kid.”

“Hey Frank.”

“So, how’d you and Zabini become fugitives?"

“We killed Umbridge. Aurors found the body, tested it for potions.”

“So, what went wrong?” Frank asked, grinning a little when Harry sighed.

“I underestimated the enemy. I didn’t know about forensic spells which were used, so I didn’t dump the body far enough away. I also didn’t know that phoenixes could teleport.”

“Well, at least ya know where ya went wrong.” Frank said, laughing mirthlessly. “Guess y’all are gonna need a portkey, huh?”

“You know where to.”

As soon as Frank had cast the spell on Harry’s bike, he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug.

“I’m gonna miss you Frank.” Harry said, returning the hug.

“Not like you’re abandoning the UK. You can still visit.”

“Yeah, but… it won’t be the same.”

“Yeah, it won’t will it?” Frank replied, keeping Harry in the embrace a little longer. “Well, go on kid. Don’t want the cops to get ya, do we?”

With those parting words, Harry and Blaise held onto the handlebars and vanished from the parking lot, reappearing somewhere Harry had heard described, but never actually seen.

His and Blaise’s attention was suddenly drawn to a building’s door slamming against a wall as it opened, as well as the racking of a shotgun, before a voice called out.

“Evans? That you?” The voice rang out across the scrap yard.

“Hey Bobby.”