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Chapter Text

Harry wasn't sure when the internal switch inside him changed direction, the one that determined whether you wanted to keep reaching for others or take matters into your own hands. But he does know he was younger than society would want you to believe is possible. Not everyone gets the luxury of experiencing "real life" in their twenties. On the contrary, too many get that rude awakening much earlier. Harry tried not to let his circumstances get him too down. After all, there were others who had it worse. He didn’t like that way of thinking but sometimes, it's all he had. It wasn't quite optimistic but he found it encouraging nonetheless. Like that time he was locked outside in the middle of summer, while the Dursleys went on holiday for a week. He was 9 years old but he sat up and took stock of his situation. He told himself. "It's not winter, Harry. You live in a cooler climate than a lot of others, Harry. Maybe this is an excellent time to learn to pick locks, Harry." The most important detail of his life, top of any stock take, was magic. Harry had it and without that, he'd have likely succumbed to a much bleaker fate long ago.

Harry had always known he had magic because, as he saw it, he was gifted with memories. He could remember living in a loving home, cradled in the arms of a beautiful, smiling woman with red hair who would talk to him about anything that struck her fancy. She was "mummy" and she believed he should be told about the goings on around him. He's thankful everyday for her open, generous nature. His memories of her are the brightest guide he's ever had. Harry also remembers his father too. A loud, hyper man, his "da" was more about the fun than the information but he gave the best hugs. Harry remembers his da holding him tight as they flew on his broom. Memories of his father drive him to create his own fun even when the world around him is utter shite.

Harry knows that preservation of one’s earliest memories is not common. No one expects a toddler to remember their introduction into the world. He doesn't know if his long memory is connected to his magic or if it's just how his mind works. He's wondered if it's the last gift he received from his parents, at the time of their demise, or if there are other greater forces, like that "God" fellow people around him have mentioned. Frankly, Harry doesn't think he needs to know where the memories come from to appreciate and use them. Who he might have been without knowing about magic, he does not want to contemplate any more than he already has over his long, short life. Magic allowed him to put food in his belly and shoes on his feet. Magic allowed him to know more of the world beyond his small cupboard and away from the Dursleys.

A knock sounds on Harry's cupboard door and his uncle's voice bellows, "Get out here, boy!" The door is flung open and Harry emerges, careful not to catch a part of his body on the edges of the doorframe. He learned long ago that it was better to step towards his uncle than allow him to corner him more. Harry exudes a calm that has been known to anger his uncle but more often, it startles him. And Harry would rather his uncle be a little afraid of him than not at all. The flicker of fear affords Harry a pause in his uncle's proceedings and that brief pulse of time offers an escape route. Harry knows how to escape. Even if not forever, yet, he continuously hones his ability to get away.

Harry stands quietly, waiting for his uncle to speak. He doesn't know why his uncle has called upon him. So, he doesn't know where to look. When his uncle is in a rage, it's best not to look him in the eye. When he's beaming with self-satisfaction, you have to look him in the eye or he takes it as a slight. He's an extremely pathetic individual. Going by the name of Vernon, he's an always-clammy-skinned, whale of a man. He wears boring clothes and his scalp and facial hairs look like they want to escape his head. Since Harry doesn't know where to look, he compromises and looks at his nose, which desperately needs attention. "Clear out your pores!" Harry wants to shout.

The silence stretches and Petunia walks in. She's his aunt, allegedly. He refuses to fully believe this without proof. "Did you tell him, Vernon?"

"I was just getting to it, Pet." Vernon grumbles and he squints his eyes while staring at Harry harder. "Look, you millstone, we didn't want to tell you this but a letter arrived for you today." Vernon thrust a letter into Harry's hand and he's stunned. Harry doesn't like surprises. How do you plan for escape routes if you don't have notice? Harry looks to Petunia who gives him a "go on" nod and hand flick. Harry turns back to the letter and moves to the kitchen table, sits down and opens the letter with his aunt and uncle looking on. He considered going to his cupboard to read it but thinks there's more to gain from reading it in their presence. They do seem to know what this is about, after all.

Hogwarts? Cupboard Under the Stairs? Harry internally snorts. So, the senders not only know that he lives in the cupboard under the stairs but they can surmise that Harry is so unwelcome that his address isn't 4 Privet Drive. Yet, they send no one to release him from this exile. Alright, then, if that's how they want to play it. He reads the letter and turns to his relatives, cautiously. They don't seem inclined to want to speak first. So, he ventures, "What if I don't want to go?"

His aunt startles, "Excuse me?"

"Well, I already go to school and even if magic is real, I must not belong in that world if they sent me to live here, right?"

His aunt sighs and, more softly than he's heard her speak to him in years, says, "You have to go. If you don't go, they will come for you."

"Why will they come for me?"

"Pet, you don't have to say anything to this miscreant."

"Hush, Vernon," Petunia says gently but it's still shocking. Petunia usually defers to Vernon. "If you don't want to hear what I'm going to say, you may step out of the room."

May? Petunia has permission powers over Vernon?! Focus, Harry!

Vernon stepped out of the room and Petunia sighed. "I will pay for that later." Harry, unexpectedly, felt concern for Petunia and it must have shown on his face because she said, "Not like that. He just doesn't like to hear about magic." She looks at him thoughtfully and pulls out a chair and sits carefully. "I don't like to talk about it either. I'd rather not think of it at all. But once you know about it, you can't not know." She pauses and looks away with a scowl. Then, she clears her face and looks at Harry to say, "There is a way to not know but that requires magic." Harry blinked, both surprised that Petunia knew this and that she was telling him about it. "Your mother, my sister, was a witch. When she was your age, she received a letter like this and our lives were never the same again. I didn't much care for your mother before this letter but after, well, any lingering hope I had that we would one day be true sisters faded from me entirely. It's why I don't like you. You are a constant reminder of a sisterhood I never shared and a world I wasn't at all welcome in. Furthermore, you ruined any hope I had of living a life away from magic."

Harry stayed silent. Her words didn't hurt him exactly. It was actually rather refreshing but there was a bittersweet feeling he didn't understand or want. When she spoke again, memories flooded his senses, "The day you were placed on our doorstep, your parents died. They were not killed in a car crash and they weren't drunks, as you never really believed." She looked upon him, revealing a shrewdness he never associated with her. This annoyed him, as he never wanted to underestimate those around him. "They were killed by a megalomaniac, hellbent on destroying those he didn't approve of, including people like me, those without magic. That world believes you stopped him and they placed you here to protect you." At this, she rolled her eyes. "I have come to believe that they didn't want you protected. I'm not an idiot. I've seen magical people around. Any one of them could have grabbed you and there were days I wished they would have." That last sentence was spoken with rage, forced or suppressed, Harry could not tell.

She did not seem willing to break the silence again. So, Harry affected hesitance and asked, "Who is “they”? Who left me on your porch?"

"Dumbledore," Petunia sneered. "That imbecile left you on my doorstep with a note. A note! You performed magic that very day! I wasn't given a manual or support, financial or otherwise. There was no one to contact and no one reached out to me either. I think he wanted me to hate you." She paused and took a deep breath. "I almost wish I would spite him and find it in myself to love you. But I don't want to love you. I don't want to like you. And I want you gone." She said those last three sentences with a quiet resignation that he almost respected.

"May I ask," Harry hesitated and Petunia nodded, "why did you keep me?"

"Protection. The note said that you needed to be near blood relatives, for protection, mine included." She seemed to surprise herself by saying this and to compensate, she sneered.

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. "I can respect that," he said and Petunia's lips twitched. "So, what happens now?" Harry asked.

"Annoyingly, it may not depend on either of us. That Dumbledore is meddlesome and if he wants you here, you will have to stay here. He wants you at that school. You will go and you will likely be sent back during school holidays."

"What if we work around him?" She looked at him with squinted eyes. "Together?"

Petunia looked to the ceiling and sighed loudly. "Fine," she said. And on a day with too many surprises, he nearly blacked out at her next action. Petunia Dursley, his mother's actual sister, it seems, extended a hand. With feigned confidence, he reached out his own hand. When their hands shook, a golden glow encircled their joining before fading away. He couldn't help it, his eyes widened at the sight and she reluctantly asked, "What did you see?"

"A golden glow," he said.

"Of course." Petunia shook her head and let go of his hand before standing. "Magic!" she murmured as she walked out the door.

Chapter Text

Harry found he enjoyed this new arrangement with his relatives. Petunia forced herself to be in the kitchen during Harry's chores and their different styles were more compatible than either expected. There was little talking, each instance initiated by Petunia. The exchanges centered around simple requests and instruction but Harry could tell Petunia was testing the waters, so to speak. Vernon wasn't an issue, only really overlapping with Harry during the eating part of the meals. He didn't like Harry sitting at the table, like an actual member of the household but he held his tongue, as his wife preferred. They still demanded that Dudley keep his distance from Harry, which was harder on Dudley than his aunt and uncle realized. Harry was certain Dudley could see magic. Harry didn't think Dudley could use magic but he didn't rule it out entirely. Maybe he just had less or needed to be taught how to access it. In any case, Harry was certain that even Petunia, with her unexpectedly keener eyes, didn't realize. And sadly, Dudley knew better than to say anything.

Occasionally, Dudley would send Harry an eager look and Harry would deliberately look in the direction of the adults and then look down. It was his way of signaling it wasn't his choice to stay away. Choosing the path with less risk of punishment was just what he had to do; it wasn't personal. Still, he'd prefer to not outright reject Dudley, who he saw as another person in the house with a deeper connection to magic. Had their lives been different, they could have been allies, if not actual loving cousins.

When the time came for Harry to gather his school supplies, Petunia drove Harry to the center of London and pointed out The Leaky Cauldron. "I can't go with you but as far as I understand things, the entrance to the magical, shopping district is through there. Use that brain of yours to get to the other side," Petunia paused, her face inscrutable, before continuing. "Don't trust anyone. At least, don't trust easily and never completely. Save the latter for when you know more. Understood?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." As part of their agreement, Petunia had insisted he returned to calling her Aunt Petunia. It wasn't easy for him to start doing so but it was an acceptable concession, especially after hearing her call him "Harry" with increasingly less reluctance. "How would you recommend I get back to Surrey?"

"I'm not sure, especially since I have no idea how long you'll be." She stared at the Leaky Cauldron with pure suspicion. "Get to the bank, first. Gringotts, remember?" Harry nodded. "If you have access to enough funds, get a cab. I'd rather you stay off the bus but you remember which routes get you closest, yes?" Harry nodded again. "I remember hearing mention of a magical bus but I don't know how you'd call for it. Again, Gringotts may know." Petunia huffed and started tapping on the steering wheel. "This is ridiculous. They ought to have sent someone to tell you about the school..." Petunia muttered.

When the silence continued for too long, Harry opened the car door and got out. "Thanks for the ride, Aunt Petunia. I'll return as soon as possible." Before he walked away, Petunia spoke again.

"Harry, try to call me before setting out," Harry nodded as she hesitated. "And if you must, call me to collect you. It will take longer that way, however. So, do try to be industrious." Harry nodded once, smiling inside himself, and walked away from the vehicle. He made himself not look back but he was curious to see if she'd watch him until she couldn't see him anymore.

—

Harry used his "sink into the wall" ability to assess the situation before making a move. He'd walked into the pub and purchased a soft drink before sitting in a booth. He drew some unwanted attention, being an unaccompanied child. But he pulled out a notebook and pen, affecting as innocent a posture as he could manage. His hair and forehead were covered up with a colorful, flower-patterned head scarf and he made sure to cast his eyes downward. He'd considered wearing sunglasses but he was certain they'd cause him to stand out all the more. He aimed to come across as a shy child but he suspected some of these idiots thought he was a "hooligan", a term he'd heard often from people like his uncle.

Harry used his notebook and pen as a barrier to peek over. He would write bits of nonsense and then, cast squinted eyes around the place, as if deep in thought. Finally, when he felt comfortable with his assessment, he jumped up as if remembering he had to go find his parents and rushed out of the pub. He walked quickly for half a block, turned into an alley and sank into the wall. He waited a moment, made sure no one was following him and then walked back to The Leaky, hidden in the cover of the walls. He was so used to doing this that the sensations were almost pleasant. Harry had no idea what it was actually called or how it worked. But being able to sink into the walls, as he called it, was a great gift. The money in his pocket was thanks mostly to this ability. Vernon begrudgingly gave him a tenner and Petunia gave him 40 quid when they got in the car. She warned him that the money was basically useless on the other side but that it would at least allow him options and a starting point. He had 500 pounds hidden on the inside of his jeans, within a pocket he stitched on himself. That money was stolen, mostly from the Dursleys' neighbors but occasionally, he was able to acquire people's wallets when he was running errands for Petunia.

Once in The Leaky, Harry noticed that the walls began to buzz. He felt a pull and followed it to a small courtyard, where he observed someone with a wand tapping a brick wall. That wall began to separate and the person walked inside. As the wall closed, Harry looked around, to make sure no one was looking. Seeing no one, he stepped out of the wall and ran through the opening. He ended up bumping into the person who had inadvertently let him in, causing both to stumble. "Easy there, young man. Why are you in such a hurry?"

Harry looked at the ground, pretending to look deeply apologetic, "I'm sorry. I was just so eager to see everything."

The person chuckled and said, "First time, huh?"

"Yes," Harry said, still looking down.

"Are you a muggleborn? Where are your parents?" The person looked around and Harry took a moment to look at their face. He could not get a read on this person. Were they the type to wait for the parents to arrive? Were they a threat? So, he said nothing and looked forward, towards one of the stores, with hunched shoulders. He needed more information. "Ah, you see them, don't you?" Harry shrugged and nodded. "Go along, then. You don't want them to get worried." Harry nodded again and slinked away, losing himself in the crowd. Just in case, he popped into a store that looked busy and glanced out the windows. He couldn't spot the stranger he bumped into and continued browsing.

"Finding everything you need, young man?"

Here we go again, Harry thought.

"I'm just looking, sir. I won't be able to buy anything until I get to Gringotts but I couldn't help but pop into your store."

The man chuckled and said, "Well, it's not my store but I do love it here. And advance scouting is always a good idea. So, good on you. Did you see anything that piqued your interest?"

"I can't tell what most of this is, to tell you the truth."

"Muggleborn?"

"I've heard that term before but I don't know what it means," Harry said. He had a pretty good idea what it meant but he wasn’t exactly lying. And Harry appreciated sentences that got the other person talking, rather than keeping the spotlight on himself.

"It's a term commonly used to describe magical persons born to people without magic. If you're here, then you're magical." Doubt flickered in the attendant's eyes. Then, he said, "You are magical, right? You didn’t wander in here somehow, by accident?"

Harry chuckled. "Does that happen?" Harry couldn't help the curiosity.

"Unfortunately, yes. It's rare but it has happened. I think the entrances should be better guarded. Magical protections are great but a standing, human guard could exercise common sense. Well, if they had any." The last sentence was said more quietly and the tone made Harry smile. So, he reassured the man.

"Yes, I'm magical. I recently got my Hogwarts letter and I'm here to buy my school supplies. I only have a little non-magical money on me but I was told to make my way to Gringotts. Could you point me in the right direction?" The man paused and looked at Harry with the kind of considering look Harry wanted to avoid. "Unmistakable, my aunt said, but she's not great with directions." That got the man's face to start relaxing but as he cast his eyes around, Harry added, "How rude of me? What did you say your name was?" That did it! Attendant mode clicked back on. His face relaxed, his posture straightened and a bright smile threatened to split his face.

"Ah! Name's Jerome and I am the happy manager of this fine establishment." Harry looked around and wondered why the manager approached him when the shop seemed busy. "I know that face! You want to know why I walked up to you, right?" Perplexed, Harry nodded. "Well, you were the only one who looked like you didn't know what you wanted. Everyone else," Jerome gestured to the rest of the store, "they look like people on a mission. You radiated "browsing" and I don't like to leave a customer floundering."

"I wouldn't say I was floundering," Harry said, "but you're right. I am aimlessly browsing."

"Fair enough. Returning to what you said," Harry internally clenched at that start, "you won't find any of your school supplies in here, I'm afraid. Most of the items here are simply beautiful." Jerome smiled a serene, gentle smile. "Kids like you end up browsing in here for gifts. Usually for parents but I get a few lovestruck teens every year too." Jerome nodded to Harry's head and said, "I see you like headscarves. Come see what we carry." Harry wasn't opposed to headscarves. But he mostly used them to keep his hair clean or out of his way. Also, his relatives didn't like seeing his scar. His aunt especially didn't like the streak of red at the front of his scalp. When he was little, his aunt would give him bandanas and in time, Harry purchased larger, more stylish scarves from charity shops. He got the idea from a neighbor who wore beautiful scarves around her neck. When he wall-walked into her house, he found a whole row of them in her front entrance. He would never have risked stealing something so obvious as a scarf but he had been tempted.

Jerome led Harry to a back wall, which seemed to be the section of the store set aside for gifts made of fabric. The fabrics were indeed eye-catching but Jerome led Harry to an out-of-the-way cabinet. "Now, stay there. There's more in here than it seems." Jerome opened the cabinet door and pulled on a knob. As stated, a lot of scarves came out with one pull. Harry's eyes widened. "That's the magical world, kid. There's a lot hiding in plain sight." Harry thought of his wall-walking and grinned. "I know these scarves don't look as eye-catching as the clothing but they're my favorite. Plus, we take commissions too. So, if anyone has a fabric in mind, we can make a custom scarf. And," Jerome's face lit up, "the scarves hold onto the charms for longer."

Harry wanted to share in this moment but he wasn't exactly sure what Jerome meant by "charms". Jerome continued, "I forgot, sorry. Charms are a category of magic. For instance, this scarf here," Jerome pulled out a iris-patterned, silky-looking scarf. "This scarf has a powerful, Notice-Me-Not charm. It's a charm popular with those who want a little privacy on what I call "bad hair days". When worn, people are less noticeable to those around them."

"Don't you worry that people will use them for nefarious purposes?"

"Like?,” the man asked, his tone careful but his eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Uh," Harry wondered if he needed to recalculate. "Stealing?" Jerome burst out into laughter.

"I like how you think, kid! But I can't tell if you have the spirit of a rule breaker, a crisis manager or a Slytherin." Jerome quirked up an eyebrow. "Though I suppose if you were a trained Slytherin, you would have kept that thought process to yourself." Jerome laughed again. "What you have to understand…” Jerome's face contorted, cutting himself off. "By Merlin, I don't know your name, kid! I didn't even ask, did I? And after you so kindly asked mine. I'm excitable, sometimes. You must forgive me. What is your name?" Harry considered lying but he settled for a version of the truth.

"You can call me Hank," Harry said.

"I sincerely hope that's short for something more impressive, kid, because when you say "Hank" I think of a "hank of meat" for Merlin's sake." Jerome got a pensive look, like he wanted to say more or worse, dig deeper on the name. The moment, thankfully, passed, and he said, "As you say, kid. I'll call you Hank." Then, he winked. Harry wasn't sure anyone had ever winked at him before. That was a gesture he associated with the kind of social engagement he was usually far removed from. "Back to what I was saying, a Notice-Me-Not is a commonly used spell and most magical folks will usually just cast it on themselves and get on with their task. But spells need to be monitored and sustained. Magical folk can be lazy, for one, and also, pretty things are just lovely. There's also a pleasure to be found in reaching for something you chose and like to wear. Do you understand? Even so young as you are, that scarf on your head is not a thoughtless choice. Further, as casual as your attire seems, I can tell that the patch there is deliberate, likely done by hand, and your shoes are well cared for." Harry stood back and applauded. He belatedly realized that might not translate well in the magical world but he need not have worried. Jerome tipped his head in self-satisfaction and offered a half-bow. Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Jerome continued to tell Harry more about the scarves and Harry resolved to return to buy a few, if his Aunt Petunia turned out to be right and he did have magical currency. He was particularly interested in the scarves that offered impact and sun protection. Harry took a tumble from a ladder once and he considered himself lucky to get away with a sprained ankle and bump on the head. All the scarves promised to not muss up your hair, if worn fewer than 8 hours at a time, with minimal activity, which was an added bonus he could appreciate.

Chapter Text

When Harry finally arrived at Gringotts, he was feeling better about his ability to navigate the magical world. They weren't that different from the non-magical people he'd been observing his whole life. Harry took a minute to read the sign at the entrance to the bank. He nodded, impressed, and smiled at the goblins guarding the entrance. He didn't know if a "good morning" or "good afternoon" would be welcome. They were committed to looking severe, after all. Still, it seemed rude to say nothing. So, he landed on a simple nod and said, "Greetings." Then, he walked with as much confidence as he dared, for someone so visibly young, towards the goblins receiving customers. As he waited patiently, he cast his eyes around the room. The walls reflected the light beautifully and he wondered if he could sink into them. He kind of hoped not, given that this was a bank. Maybe they trap intruders, Harry wondered, and smiled. When it was his turn, he met the goblin's eyes and spoke in a quiet, measured voice, "Greetings, would it be alright if I hand you a pre-prepared letter?" The goblin nodded curtly and Harry slid an envelope across the counter.

(Letter begins)

To whom it may concern:

My name, as well as I can know it, is Harry Potter. I have been living in the non-magical world since I was a baby and recently received a Hogwarts letter. My aunt recommended I visit Gringotts to see if I had any magical currency. Whether I do or don't, could we please speak in private? I may not know the whole of what I represent to the magical community but I do know that the existence of my forehead scar is well known and that there are persons eagerly awaiting my return to the magical community. If you agree to meet with me in private, could you please address me as Mr. Evans until we reach the private rooms?

Thank you for your attention.

Best wishes,

Harry Potter

(Letter ends)

The goblin's face remained unreadable and Harry watched as they folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. "Very well, Mr. Evans. If you agree, I will add this missive to your file and we'll proceed as advised. Come this way, please." Harry nodded and followed the goblin to a private room. The room was unexpectedly cozy and Harry felt his guard relaxing. Since he doesn't trust easily, Harry wondered if the room was charmed to relax all those who enter. Upon seeing Harry's considering look, the goblin offered, "What you are no doubt feeling, Mr. Potter, is the soothing effects of the room. It's mostly meant for the goblins, to help them manage anger when dealing with difficult cases or clients. Goblins have had several wars with witches and wizards. It’s best to take precautions."

"Do you consider me a difficult case or client?"

The goblin offered Harry a seat and took one as well. Harry found it odd that they didn't sit behind the desk. The goblin exhaled audibly and said, "Both, unfortunately. You came here alone. The letter was clearly not written by an adult and your penmanship indicates that you weren't even tutored in the magical ways." At Harry's furrowed brown, the goblin continued. "Wizards use quills."

"Oh, right. I saw that on my Hogwarts list. So, no biros then?" The goblin seemed amused as they shook their head. “Okay, first things first, what is your name? And why are you not sitting behind the desk? Is this not your office?" The goblin huffed as they stood.

"I was attempting to seem less intimidating, if you must know. But, as I assessed, you are a difficult case. I can respect you not trusting easily but I am not pleased that you appear to have been raised in a manner that makes you so distrustful." The goblin made their way to sit behind the desk. "In answer to your other questions, my name is Medallion and no, this is not my office. This is a receiving room, used for meetings such as these and other private conversations. Now, you say you are Harry Potter but we must verify this before proceeding. We have our official ways but would you consider removing your head scarf?"

"I'll remove my scarf but only if you provide me with a mirror before I step out of the room, to make sure it looks alright." Medallion offered a small smile and gestured for him to proceed.

Medallion observed Harry's streak of red hair. It was the color of a bright morello cherry, still clinging to the tree. "Is it natural? A birthmark? Or purposeful?"

"I don't know if I was born with it. But I didn't do it to myself."

Medallion frowned. "Am I correct in assuming that you have not seen pictures of your parents?"

"I haven't," Harry nearly continued but stopped himself. Medallion's eyebrows lifted slightly, as if to indicate she wanted him to continue. Harry exhaled fully before speaking again. "I haven't seen a picture of them but I have memories of them." Harry didn't smile but his voice became more relaxed. It was nice admitting that to someone, actually, and that surprised him.

"That's unexpected but I can see that you regard this as extremely fortunate."

Harry smiled, "I do. Without those memories..." Harry trailed off. Harry missed the look that crossed Medallion's face. The calm provided by the receiving room was certainly being put to the test today.

"Mr. Potter, am I correct in assuming that you appreciate directness?" Harry was about to answer when Medallion put up a hand to delay him. "I ask because I would normally take a softened approach with a child. In general, children are often fearful of those outside their immediate circle, especially of beings such as goblins, who look so different from themselves. I do not begrudge a child their fear, of course. It is imperative to not trust too easily. But I feel I can best meet your needs if I am as direct as I can be. Do you approve of this approach?"

Harry offered a confident nod and sat up straighter, as he said, "I do appreciate and approve of a direct approach, Ma-.” Harry stalled. "I apologize, how would you prefer I refer to you?"

Medallion offered him an enigmatic look, saying "I believe I shall enjoy hearing you call me "madam", Mr Potter. I approve." Harry managed to look both bemused and pleased by this response. "Do you have any questions before we proceed with the more structured part of this conversation?"

"No, madam."

"Alright." Medallion opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook and a biro. Harry's eyes widened. "Goblins are not opposed to advancements in writing implements." Harry laughed. "Take this notebook and pen and make note of any questions you have. As we proceed, I will keep an eye on you and pause when I see you need to take a note. My observational skills are excellent but I encourage you to be overt. I don't want you feeling like you need to nod along to appease me. Or anyone else for that matter." Medallion gave Harry a stern look and Harry took the offerings to write down: There's no need to appease anyone. He cheekily showed her what he'd written and she nodded in approval. "Let us begin."

Medallion’s posture shifted and Harry responded in kind. He got the impression that the next part of this conversation would be handled as if there would one day be witnesses to it. He was tempted to look around for recording devices but forced himself not to. Medallion knew what she was doing, he was certain of it. "You are unmoored in the magical world, Mr. Potter, and that leaves you incredibly vulnerable. Most magical children would never have cause to come to Gringotts unaccompanied, as you no doubt already surmised." Harry nodded. "Furthermore, magical children are never placed with non-magicals." Harry's eyes widened. "Family or not, it is unwise to place a magical child with non-magicals. As I think you know firsthand, non-magicals are too often unwelcoming to magic." Harry swallowed around a building lump and he felt a quiet shaking begin to stir within. "Now, in your case, it is especially suspicious that you were left with muggles-.” Medallion interrupted herself. "Do you know the meaning of the word, "muggles"?" Harry shook his head, uncertainly. "It's a term used to describe non-magical humans. There are those who frown upon its use but it isn't, yet, widely considered a derogatory term. Plus, it has fewer syllables." Harry smiled and Medallion continued. Harry appreciated Medallion's ability to soothe him without questioning his discomfort.

"As I was saying, it is suspicious that you were placed with muggles because it is well known that your parents had many magical friends and acquaintances. So, it is not unreasonable to assume that a trusted guardian could have been found. Now, I think I know what is currently happening in your case but further analysis must be left for when we have more time and resources. Right now, we must focus on the verification of your identity. Before we go over those options, however, I would like to ask you a series of questions. Some will seem repetitive but it's important that you answer them to the best of your reasonable ability." Medallion placed special emphasis on the word "reasonable" and Harry took that to mean that he could keep his secrets, if it made sense that an 11 year old boy would not know the answer. "Is that alright?" Harry nodded. "I'll need you to respond verbally, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded again before saying, "Yes, Madam Medallion, I understand. It is quite alright for you to ask me whatever you need to know and think best to discuss." Medallion gave a reassuring nod and began.

"What is your full name?"

"Harry Potter."

"How have you come to Gringotts today?"

"My aunt, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, dropped me off near the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron with instructions on how I might find Diagon Alley. She didn't know how to find Gringotts but informed me that it was a well known place."

"Did you enter Diagon Alley on your own?"

"Yes, madam.”

"How did you get past the magical barrier?"

"I walked in behind someone opening the barrier for themselves."

"Did no one question you? It is, after all, extremely unusual for a child to wander such a business district alone.”

"I, uh," Harry stalled, unsure how to proceed but one look at Madam Medallion’s warm eyes gave him the confidence to continue. "I was questioned a bit by the person who unknowingly let me in but I, uh," Harry looked away, trying to decide on his word choice. "I guess I redirected their focus."

"How did you do that?"

"I looked at a point beyond them and waited to see how they'd interpret my actions. When the person assumed I spotted "my family", I encouraged this interpretation and moved away."

"How did you find Gringotts, once on the Alley?"

"I popped into a store and met someone who helped me."

"Did they ask why you were alone?"

"I, uh," Harry furrowed his brow. "I'm not actually sure. We talked about a lot of things but he had a lot of reasons to think it was okay that I wasn't tied to the hip of a minder. He-" Harry nearly talked about Jerome in detail but he didn’t want to reveal too much, in case this part of the conversation would be shared with others. “Well, he knew I was on a shopping trip for Hogwarts and also, his store is often visited by children looking for gifts for parents."

"Is it possible he asked and you, once again, avoided answering directly?"

Harry looked a little sheepish and said, "Yes, madam, it is entirely possible. I'm used to being alone and in the muggle world, I've learned how to, uh, hide that I'm alone."

"So, you entered Gringotts alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you realize this would be seen as unusual?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you provided a letter?"

"Yes."

"Did you write the letter yourself?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps I should've clarified. Did you write it in your own hand or did you choose the wording yourself?"

"Both. Aunt Petunia recommended I write a letter to prevent me drawing attention to my identity but she left me to write it myself."

"And speaking of your identity, Mr. Potter, can you prove that you are he?"

"No."

"Do you have your vault key?"

"No."

"Before today, did you know of vault keys?"

"No."

"Do you have a wand?"

"No."

"Do you have a magical guardian?"

"No. Well, I don't think so. But Aunt Petunia is not magical. So, it can't be her."

"Mr. Potter, do you know what it means to be Harry Potter?"

"Pardon?"

"What does being Harry Potter mean to you?"

"I, uh, am not sure." Harry paused, furrowing his brows more. "For a long time, I wasn't sure about my name. My aunt and uncle called me "boy"… mostly…" Harry looked into the distance but when Medallion allowed the silence to continue, he added, "It wasn't until I went to muggle school that I was told my name was Harry. Then, when the teacher checked attendance, I was the only Harry in the class. So, I learned my surname is Potter. That's all I was ever told, really. There are a few details here and there but I never believed them. Well, I hoped they weren't true."

Medallion hummed. "Alright, Mr. Potter, I want to know why a boy of your age without magical rearing believed he had an account with Gringotts."

To Medallion’s surprise, Harry chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't say I believed it. More like I hoped. My Aunt Petunia told me that my father was a wizard and that he likely left me some money. If he did, then I can get the right kind of money to buy my school supplies."

"Mr. Harry Potter is a well known figure in the wizarding community and the Potter name is prominent, respected and wealthy. Therefore, in order to proceed with the utmost confidence, I recommend our highest level of identity verification. We have three..."

Chapter Text

Medallion proceeded to explain the three levels of inheritance evaluation offered by Gringotts. The first was a very basic, identity scan, meant for those with more regular business with Gringotts who simply didn't have their key on them, during an impromptu visit, for example. It wasn't an uncommon test, by any means, but it was frowned upon by both Gringotts and their wealthier clients. Gringotts preferred more proper procedures and did not like to leave room for complaint. Clients had been guilty of "forgetting" that this lesser testing did not come with the more stringent protections. If the money you took out of the vault using this method "went missing" soon after its withdrawal, Gringotts would not make any attempt to reclaim it. Gringotts' stance was that if a client chose to behave so casually with their funds, Gringotts would behave in kind. Goblins expressed respect for others by respecting their money. It was their love language, so to speak. Therefore, customers who disrespected their own money were communicating to Gringotts that they did not seek respect from Goblins. The basic test revealed your name and most immediate family.

The second option was a more expanded check that did offer protections of the funds withdrawn. Furthermore, it was believed that should magic be created that could trick the first test, the second would catch it. Thus far, there had been no magic that could circumvent any of the available options. However, only fresh, willingly given, blood could reveal the information provided by the second and third options. Slightly old blood could provide the basic identity revealed in the first option. In addition to revealing the information included in the first test, it revealed an expanded list of family, as well as especially meaningful active and inactive magical connections, such as godparents. It also revealed the widely known titles and their corresponding vault numbers.

The third option was recommended in this instance. It provided all of the information of the first and second tests, plus much more. It was common for wizarding families to pick an important day in the life of a wizarding child and bring them to Gringotts to conduct this test. It was a right of passage, communicating to the child their place in the world. Every family was different but it was common to conduct this test on a child's 13th birthday. Other common options were ages 15 and 17. There were, of course, some families who did not choose to do this, leaving it to the individual to seek out in adulthood, if they so choose. This test, considered overly invasive by some wizards, could also reveal magical inheritances and gifts. Finally, with the third option, and upon request, a health history could be compiled.

"The third option is the one I recommend, including the health history," Medallion gave Harry a pointed look and Harry gulped. "Do you fully understand my concerns?"

"Yes, madam."

"Would you be so kind as to summarise your understanding of my concerns?"

Harry nodded. "Being that the Potter family is not only a client but a wealthy one, Gringotts would prefer the most formal process. Families such as these are bigger targets for those wishing to attempt line theft." Medallion nodded reassuringly but gestured for him to continue. She knew he was stalling and Harry both liked and disliked that about her. Harry let out a sigh, more audibly than he wanted, and continued. "Having been raised in the muggle world, with people who seem averse to magic, it is especially important to establish myself as thoroughly as possible…" Harry looked down to brace himself. Then, he looked at Medallion to speak clearly. "It is imperative that we know how well I've been looked after." Medallion nodded and Harry thought he could detect pride in her air. "I understand and respect your guidance, Madam Medallion. How do we begin?"

The test was a sacred ritual and required that they move to a different room. Medallion led Harry through a door behind her desk and as they walked, Harry chatted amiably to Medallion. Just before they reached their destination, Harry asked Madam Medallion if any magical children had ever done this alone. She seemed a bit sad when she answered, "Not many but yes." Harry nodded.

"Mr. Potter, I shall introduce you to the..."

"Wait, you're not leaving me, are you, Miss Medallion?"

Medallion attempted to make light of the conversation, "What happened to "madam"?” Harry didn't smile. He hardly blinked. "This next step is reserved for the one being tested and their guardian, however temporary they may be."

"But I don't have one…"

"Not that we know of…"

"Could it be you, then?" Medallion’s eyes widened marginally, not that Harry noticed as he rushed ahead. "A representative, perhaps? Until we know if I have a magical guardian? I don't want to do this without you, Madam Medallion.”

"Why is that, Mr. Potter?"

"I, uh." Harry looked at the door in front of them. "I am not sure. I feel comfortable with you. I'm not attaching myself to the first person I meet, I promise. I'm more…"

"Person, Mr. Potter?"

"Is that not the term? Please, Madam Medallion. I'd like us to be a team, a business one if not a personal one. Is that okay?"

"Just when I thought you were far too precocious, you reassure me with childlike enthusiasm."

"Is that a yes?"

"Mr. Potter, how do you know I won't take advantage of you?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know if I can ever know 100% if someone would or would not take advantage of me. But it seems highly unlikely that you would. Or even could." Harry stared off, considering.

"Do you care to explain?"

"It's like your code, right? No stealing, respecting clients’ wealth and power… I don't know how to explain it. You just seem like you would find it stupid to hurt a client, like hurting them hurts you too. Or something like that…" Harry exhaled audibly. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to talk about this. It's new. It's fast. And it's too close to the idea of trust, which I'm not a fan of…" Medallion chuckled.

"I think I understand you. Let me speak with my colleagues and I'll let you know how we can move forward, as you say, as a team." Harry beamed.

The officiant, as Harry began to think of him, was named Blue Gem. He explained to Harry that asking a goblin to accompany him was unusual and recommended he proceed alone. Blue Gem did not elaborate. When Harry persisted, Blue Gem glared at him, and said, "Mr. Potter, the only way I can accept Medallion’s presence is if you declare her a friend."

"Oh," Harry looked saddened and Blue Gem stood taller, raising his eyebrows at Medallion. Harry didn't see any of this but he looked up and turned to Medallion, "I have never really had a friend, Madam Medallion. I'd like us to be friends but it's up to you. I will face this alone if it's too much to ask for." Blue Gem had to stifle a splutter.

"Chin up, Mr. Potter," Medallion extended her arm and instructed Harry to do the same. She grabbed onto his forearm and nodded for him to do the same. "From now on, we are friends." Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiled.

"Thank you, Madam Medallion, I promise to be a good friend."

"I may have to hold you to that, Mr. Potter."

"Please do! I'm bound to make mistakes, being so new to it and all."

The results of the test were odd. Harry wasn't the only one to think so; however, the reasons probably differed, he imagined. Harry learned that his full name is: Harry Orion Potter-Evans. Hope. His initials spelled "hope". Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that. It turns out he was extremely wealthy and titled. He had godparents and close family connections, most of them indisposed for some reason. Harry found this highly suspicious. He was most excited about his "siblings of the heart". Persons named Neville Longbottom and Nymphadora Tonks were his "brother and sister of the heart". He had the "potential" to be "the master of death" and an undisclosed "soulmate" because he was "too young for that to be revealed". Medallion wasn't at all concerned with this, as soulmates tend to gravitate towards one another. So, even if he never does this test again, he'll likely be fine. Harry was not reassured by this but Medallion just smiled. Magical children had "familiar affinities" and Harry's were disclosed to be magical snakes and thestrals. The "magical affinities" section of his results were blurred for unknown reasons but the results allowed him to know that he has a talent for "natural magics".

Both Blue Gem and Medallion considered the blur and determined that he may be too young for Lady Magic to want him to know all his information. Another possibility was that the Potter family placed protections on their blood, before he was born, to keep this information hidden. The Goblin Nation could investigate this further, if he were to put in the request when he is "of age". He had to roll his eyes at this because his particular circumstances meant that it wasn't as clear cut as it is for most magical children. Harry may not need to wait until he is 17. The "wait and see" approach was in play.

All the results were overshadowed by three key pieces of information. The extended health assessment demanded a separate, "healer level" scan because of his scar and compulsions on his person. Furthermore, not only did he not have a magical guardian, the results concluded that the assignment was disrupted. Only the compulsions and magical guardian issues could be resolved immediately. The healer level scan was conducted but action on all other concerns would require further research. Medallion assured Harry that he was safe and that this matter, though scary, could keep.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" Nickel asked. Nickel was a goblin, trusted by Medallion to join the discussions. Since Medallion was now his friend, someone else would need to focus on the more business side of his Goblin dealings. Harry found it a bit complicated but he didn't regret his decision in the slightest.

"Overwhelmed," Harry said. "The compulsions…" Harry began.

"Go on, Harry, speak freely,” Medallion encouraged.

"What would they have done to me?"

Nickel explained, "It's not entirely certain, Mr. Potter. As surprising as it may sound, smaller compulsions can be the most disrupting to a soul. Dumbledore wanted you to trust him and avoid Slytherins, yes. But his manipulations and your mind’s interpretation would decide the result. Further, if you tried to fight it, intentionally or otherwise, the backlash cannot be predicted. Compulsions such as these are foreign seeds, spinning you away from your natural trajectory."

"I think I met a Slytherin… well, maybe he wasn't…"

"The compulsion was introduced with your Hogwarts letter, Harry. It's new to your system and until the definition of a Slytherin was revealed to you, you'd be more free. However, if you interact with that person again, observe your feelings. Did they mention Slytherin or declare themselves as Slytherin?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I think he just mentioned it. But I didn't even ask him what that was…" Harry furrowed his brow. "I don't think I even wondered about it!" Harry stood up. "I'm curious! Even when I don't ask, I wonder. I wonder!" Harry's breath quickened, as he walked around the room. He was muttering to himself and Medallion was able to make out, "Isn't this room supposed to soothe me?"

"Harry," Medallion said gently but clearly. Harry stopped and turned to face her. "This room soothes but it does not suppress. I think your expressiveness shows just how soothing this room is; would you normally share such emotions?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, now that just makes me think this room is designed to minimize secrets."

Medallion shrugged. "It's best to enter into business with honesty."

Harry nodded and Nickel seemed surprised by the interaction. "Don't worry, Mr. Nickel. Madam Medallion knows I like directness."

"I see," Nickel said. "Mr. Potter, you've been in Gringotts for longer than you perhaps anticipated. Would you like to make accommodations to continue business or return another day?"

"Oh!" Harry's eyes widened. "What time is it?"

"It's nearing noon," he said and Harry relaxed. Nickel quirked an eyebrow at Medallion.

"Harry, how about we arrange for some food as we continue talking?"

"That sounds good, thanks. Let's do that. I have money now. How about you two decide on your favorite foods and what you think I should try. My treat. I have money now!" Harry beamed. "Could I please use your loo?"

While Harry was in the bathroom, Nickel turned to Medallion and said, "In all my years, I have never heard of a wizard "treating" a goblin to a meal." Medallion chuckled.

Nickel and Medallion arranged for what they called a simple meal. Harry thought it looked like a feast. There were a variety of small bowls, each with a different food. You were meant to scoop the food onto a spiced bread that was delicious enough to eat on its own. Harry's favorite dish turned out to be a spicy, eggplant dish, which shocked him. He normally hated eggplant. As they ate, they discussed how to continue. Harry would contact his aunt via phone, proving yet again that Goblins were in no way opposed to advancements in technology, and inform her that he'd need to stay overnight. The goblins would arrange for him to stay a night at The Leaky Cauldron, with Medallion just next door. They would conduct their business over the course of these two days, allowing Harry time to get his school shopping done. Medallion would not be able to accompany him but he would be shadowed by a trusted house elf, to ensure his safety. The house elf would be invisible to him but would remain with him until it was time to return to the Dursleys. At that time, they would decide how to proceed.

"Mr. Potter, before you return to your school shopping, I want us to address the issue of your magical guardianship. As you saw from the results, the process of having one assigned to you was disrupted. If you had arrived at Hogwarts without one, the headmaster would have automatically become your official, magical guardian." Harry's eyes squinted in anger. "Normally, someone as young as you cannot choose your own guardian but given the results of your testing, Gringotts cannot surrender you to the mercies of the Wizengamot. The Goblin nation does not interfere with the lives of wizards and witches but we protect our clients, as much as we are able. It's a delicate balance," Nickel explained.

"How do I choose a guardian? From the results, I don't…" Harry paused. "I don't know any of them and if I reach out, wouldn't Dumbledore find out? I…"

"Breathe, Harry," Medallion reassured. "If you were to just choose a guardian, Dumbledore could wield his considerable influence to overrule your choice. However, since you have a muggle guardian, and you say she has entered into a sort of deal with you," Medallion said with a questioning tone. Harry nodded and she continued, "I suggest we conduct a guardianship ritual and then, have your Aunt Petunia support the results. That way, it isn't your choice alone. It would be a decision supported by the will of magic and your… most involved authority figure." Medallion made a face Harry could not fully interpret. But Harry was pretty sure Medallion did not like Aunt Petunia and that made Harry really happy.

"How do we get Aunt Petunia involved, if she dislikes magic?"

"Not to worry, Harry, we goblins have branches in the muggle world." Then, Medallion winked and Harry laughed.

The guardianship ritual required Harry to sit in a circle, as goblins he could not see chanted in a language he did not understand. As instructed, he'd reviewed the list of people uncovered in his test results. Once in the circle, Harry needed to think about what he most desired from a guardian. He needed to hold onto the feeling as he made a cut on his non-dominant hand. Then, he'd ask Lady Magic to make the final decision on who was best to extend a hand to. He was to repeat the request until he was guided by magic to place his hand on the parchment in front of him.

"How will I know if magic is guiding me?"

"You'll know," Nickel and Medallion said in unison.

So, Harry sat in the circle and thought of the traits he needed in a guardian. Well, he tried to but just under his thoughts was the image of Medallion's smile. He liked her so much. There was just something about her that made him feel good. She seemed to understand him and Harry hadn't realized how badly he still needed to feel seen. The chanting continued and Harry raised his arms up, beseeching Lady Magic to guide his hand. He silently asked her to make sense of the feelings he could not translate into needed traits. Then, Harry felt a push at his elbow, causing him to slam his hand on the parchment before him. To his surprise, his eyes blurred and he fell over.

Chapter Text

As Harry recovered on a bed in the healing rooms, Medallion was just outside the room observing a heated discussion between an elder goblin and the king. The elder goblin was named Barbed Tongue, a name Medallion believed he allowed to influence him in all the wrong ways. "This is ridiculous. It will not stand."

"As I have already made clear, the Goblin Nation has never and will never go against the will of Lady Magic."

"He must have done something to the ritual."

"A boy of 11?," The king, Silver Mace, spoke humorlessly.

"A wizard of 11, yes." Barb, as Medallion truncated their name in her mind, stood firm.

"Well, I have yet to meet the young man but perhaps, you might be able to persuade me once you've taken his measure."

Medallion’s wrist warmed and she knew Harry was waking. She'd placed a temporary monitoring charm on him, which she tied to her wrist cuff. "Excuse me, my king, Mr. Potter is waking. May I go in first to greet him?"

"Of course, Medallion. We'll follow behind in the shadows." The king spoke and Medallion could hear Barb muttering about the hubris of youth.

—

Medallion had just reached his bed when Harry's eyes opened. "Hello again, Mr. Potter."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I thought we'd agreed you'd call me Harry?"

"We did but you have guests that may not approve of such informalities unless they hear your express permission."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So long as permission doesn't need to be given with another ritual. What happened? Why am I in bed?" Harry looked around the room, with sleepy eyes.

"Before we continue, Mr. Potter, I would like to introduce you to two highly ranked individuals within the Goblin Nation. Is that alright?," Medallion asked, communicating reassuringly but also indicating this was not negotiable. So, Harry nodded. Seemingly out of nowhere, two figures appeared. "The grey haired goblin is Barbed Tongue and the other is Silver Mace."

Harry's eyes widened and with a shy smile, he said, "That's a cool name. Are you really good with a mace?"

Silver Mace nodded curtly. “With such a name, I was determined to be above reproach with the weapon."

"That's cool." Then, he turned to Barbed Tongue, and looked between the two again. Confused by the continuing silence, he said, "Hi."

Silver Mace nodded again and Barbed Tongue scowled. Harry turned to Medallion and asked, "Is everything okay? Why is everyone so quiet?"

Medallion smiled gently as she said, "I suppose everyone is just a bit overwhelmed. Your ritual had unexpected results, Mr. Potter."

Too tired to filter his expressions, Harry rolled his eyes. "Please, Madam Medallion, call me Harry." Harry turned to the other two and scowled, "Is that permission enough?"

To Medallion's surprise, Silver Mace chuckled. "It is indeed, Mr. Potter. Do you mind if we sit, as we continue this discussion?"

"No, I don't mind," Harry said softly. With a wave of Silver Mace’s hand, three chairs appeared and the goblins sat down. "Would you like for me to get out of bed? This is a little awkward, isn't it?" He turned to Medallion.

"No, Harry, you need rest. As I was saying, the ritual had unexpected consequences. Beings tested do not usually pass out." At Harry's look of concern, Medallion quickly added, “Rest assured, you are well." Harry nodded and his shoulders relaxed. "However, when a magical guardian is assigned, a bond is formed. The strength of the bond may vary but in every case, the bond is in its infancy. It will strengthen as the, usually, two individuals grow more familiar with one another." Harry nodded but then frowned, as Medallion looked to the other two goblins before speaking again. "In your case, you were not joined to a single individual." Harry's eyes widened in alarm. He instantly feared there was no escaping Dumbledore's hold over him. "Calm, Harry," Medallion soothed. "The ritual was a success. Instead of one individual, however…” Again, Medallion looked at the other two goblins. Silver Mace nodded. Harry wondered what the hell was going on but did his best to wait patiently. "You were bonded to the Goblin Nation, as a whole."

To the goblins’ surprise, Harry's face lit up. "That's amazing! I get more than one… a whole group…" Then, Harry paused. "Wait, you don't want me, do you?" Harry turned to look at the two other goblins.

Before either could speak, Medallion spoke firmly, "Harry, I want you. And where there is one, there are others. Do you understand?" Harry's eyes, to his annoyance, were misting up. "The Goblin Nation is bigger than most non-Goblins realize and these days, the divide between magical humans and goblins is wide. So, there are those who do not and would not take kindly to you belonging to us. But you do. Never forget that. Lady Magic has spoken. You are our responsibility. Isn't that right?" Medallion turned fierce eyes on Silver Mace and Barbed Tongue. Silver Mace nodded confidently whereas Barbed Tongue nodded curtly and looked away.

Harry cleared his throat before he spoke again, "Thank you, all of you, for bonding to me. I apologize if it feels somewhat forced. Maybe in time, it won't feel that way. But I am really happy about this; I almost feel like I chose you myself." Harry turned to Medallion. "That doesn't change us being friends, right?" Medallion shook her head. "Great. Well, just let me know how this all works and I'll do my best to be worthy of the connection." Harry grinned before suppressing a yawn.

"I wish we could let you sleep, young one," Silver Mace said. "But it is important that we make arrangements and stick to the plans already in place, as best we can." Harry nodded and straightened. Then, another being popped in, startling Harry. "Her name is Star and she's brought you a stimulating potion, to help you get through the rest of the day, until you can rest properly." Harry took the offered potion, thanking Star, who cheerfully popped out again.

—

Harry was given a brief overview of how the goblins thought it best to outwardly present their connection to Harry. It was imperative that they were not forthright. Harry was okay with that, used to keeping his business private, but he was shocked to learn that knowledge of their bond could lead to war with magical humans. So, it was decided that the goblins would claim to be the chosen liaison between Harry's "actual" magical guardian and the world at large. Every challenge to this or push for clarity would be defended with a standard line: the magical guardian has chosen to remain anonymous. Since goblins were fiercely protective of their clients and advocates of formal processes, it would be understood that to dig too enthusiastically for knowledge they had no right to would run the risk of offending the Goblin Nation. Harry, himself, would say that he didn't know the exact identity of his magical guardian. The reason for this would be clear to others: a child could not be expected to keep secret valuable information.

Harry also learned what his "guardian" expected of him, none of which seemed bad to him. He would be expected to learn how to protect his mind, body and magic. During school holidays, he was expected to visit Gringotts at least once for formal discussions, unless other arrangements needed to be made. There were community obligations as well, which would change as he grew older and more skilled. Most importantly, at least as far as Harry was concerned, he was to conduct himself in a manner that represented the Goblin Nation well.

All the benefits that came with being connected to the Goblin Nation were exciting, too. Being more than a client now, Gringotts could offer him access to resources normally restricted to goblins. There were healing options, for example, for poor vision but the goblins didn't want to put him through more testing. It could be added to the to-do list. In the meantime, he was instructed to go to a wizarding optician.

Harry got the impression the goblins were fully capable of setting him up with glasses as well; but it seemed important for him to be seen getting glasses amongst wizards. Harry refused to be disappointed about this because these folks had a plan. And to his surprise, trust was welling up inside of him. Their plans were his plans, now; he could feel it.

—

When Harry emerged from Grigotts, it was 3pm. He had a large pile of coins in a magical, leather pouch; the knowledge of how to make purchases without physical currency; an unseen heirships-ring on his left hand; a Goblin-made dragon pendant around his neck and a hidden "house elf" shadowing his movements. He hadn't been introduced to the elf but the goblins assured him that the elf's company was necessary. The elf would monitor and protect. It was important that Harry appear to shop in the way he'd set out to do; but the goblins would not accept him being actually alone.

His first stop, as per the goblins’ recommendation, was the wizarding optician. With the correct prescription on his face, he was better prepared to buy clothing, his school trunk and books, etc. He rushed through the list, arranging for the purchases to be sent to The Leaky Cauldron's room 8. Medallion assured him that his purchases would be safe because she would ensure it. Harry purchased items not on the list too. He fell in love with a school bag with lightening charms and hidden storage. It had expandable charms and to his absolute pleasure, the bag could be warded against thieves. There was a pocket that was most extremely protected. Only he would be able to see and access it. The best part was that the bag looked like other less capable bags. So, it was among the most expensive options but no one would ever know. The last shop he visited was Jerome's.

"Hank! I thought you'd forget all about me."

Harry laughed as he said, "How could I?"

"Yes, perhaps you have a point. What can I do for you? Oh, that's a nice bag. Coins in your pocket now, I see."

"Yes and I made a good dent in the school list. I plan to do more shopping tomorrow, though, since I wasn't able to get my wand."

"You haven't gotten your wand, Hank? Now, that is shocking. Most children are desperate for that to be their first purchase."

"Well, it's all just so new to me." Jerome hummed, mock sagely. Harry smiled. "I came back for scarves, Jerome. Let's continue chatting as we head to the back." Jerome beamed.

"Yes! I knew you liked them. You cool customer, you!"

Harry chose a variety of scarves, with various charms. Harry shared his idea that Jerome should create scarves that allowed for privacy. At first, Jerome couldn't see why that was necessary until Harry explained how even whispering at Gringotts could draw too much attention. Then, Jerome became thoughtful and distracted. Harry was happy to leave him to it, as he perused the rest of the store. "I'll take this as well, Jerome. Then, I have to get going. It's getting late."

Jerome smiled serenely at the figurine. "This is one of my favorites. We don't get a lot of works from this artist and this is his first goblin. It's been here a while, sadly. Too often, people overlook…" Jerome cut himself off. "You know, it's more than just pretty. Look!” Jerome repositioned the intricate, goblin statue, calling out "Protect!" The statue shifted its position and Jerome cast a spell in its direction, which just fizzled out. Harry's eyes widened. Jerome smiled mischievously. "I bet it can do other things too. The artist is beyond talented. He feels very strongly that his creations will find their way into the right hands. It's nice to see this beauty chose you."

As Harry was leaving the store, he said, "Hey Jerome, mind if I keep in touch? I'm new to this world, as you know, and it's been really nice getting to know you."

Jerome looked shocked for a second before his face smoothed out. "Of course, kid. I'd like to hear all about your first day of Hogwarts, at the very least."

"You got it," Harry flashed Jerome the peace sign and left with a huge grin on his face.

Chapter Text

At The Leaky Cauldron, Harry joined Medallion for dinner in her room. They discussed various topics, both business related and personal; although, Harry noticed, Medallion was careful not to pry into his muggle-experience. Harry appreciated the way Medallion expressed concern. She made it clear she had a problem with where Harry lived, understood there were limits to how she might be able to interfere and respected that Harry would not respond well to any “savior". In Harry's experience, those who expressed concern tended to overdo it, to appease their own feelings of inadequacy instead of focusing on actually helping him. It annoyed Harry and made him all the more determined to not need saving from others. He may not have grown up in a loving home but he didn't just survive the Dursleys. He fought for more, every chance he got. He fought for more.

"Madam Medallion?"

Medallion turned curious eyes on Harry, "Yes?"

"I hope it's alright but I got you something." Harry reached for his bag and pulled out a box with the words "Beautiful Things" written on the top, in an overly flowy font, as far as Harry was concerned. Harry smiled shyly and said, "I thought it best not to wrap it."

Medallion’s eyebrows raised up in astonishment for a brief moment before reaching out to take the box. "That's sweet of you, Harry. Unnecessary, of course, but I appreciate the thought."

Harry rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way. "I knew you'd say it wasn't necessary but I really like these and I purchased several for myself. I guess you could say it's sharing something I enjoy just as much as a thank you. I really am so thankful for all your help." Medallion opened the box and was stunned at what she saw. It was a silky, ombre fabric that made one think of a peaceful sunset. It held no magic but Medallion could feel its potential to welcome magic. "The store sells lots of scarves with charms. But you said goblin magic works differently. Also, I don't know you well." Harry chuckled softly. "So, I didn't want to make that decision for you. There's a card in the box, though, that guarantees free charm-work for the scarf, if you decide to go that route. You don't have to worry that I paid for that extra either. Jerome offered it as a "thank you" for my custom. And look there," Harry pointed, “letter-M’s in the corners. I plan to wear my scarves on my head but I bet they'd look great any way you wish to wear them."

"This is lovely, Harry. Thank you." Harry beamed.

"I'm glad you like it. Do you know the store? I only met Jerome but there were a couple of other workers there too."

"I only know it in passing but within Gringotts, it is known as a uniquely successful store. It is one of the few stores willing to work with artists on a smaller scale. If the owner appreciates the work, they'll gladly buy in small batches. They're also willing to carry them for longer periods, if they aren't selling well. For instance, some shops will send stock back if the items don't sell well within a month. Shop owners are too rarely willing to take risks. I, of course, value steady income but one must find ways to keep the flow of gold sparkling." Medallion winked and Harry laughed loudly.

"Maybe when I'm more settled, I could invest in stores who want to be riskier but don't feel they can, all on their own."

"You think you'd find that interesting?"

"Absolutely!" Harry nodded emphatically. "I spent a lot of time wondering about how I'd spend money, if I ever had any. And I always loved the idea of helping others with money. I know goblins frown on stealing but," Harry took a sip of water before continuing, “stealing is a skill I had to develop, to get by, you know?"

"How did you acquire things that did not belong to you?," Medallion asked without judgement.

"I tried not to take too much and rarely from the Dursleys. I have an ability that came in handy. I don't know what it's called…" Harry paused, looking around. "I think I can show you." Harry stood up and moved a table away from the wall. Then, to Medallion’s surprise, Harry pushed himself into the wall.

Medallion jumped from her seat, "Harry?!" Harry popped back out of the wall and Medallion rushed over, looking him over in concern. "Are you alright?"

Harry's heart swelled with Medallion's concern. "I'm perfect, I promise." What Harry didn't know was that Medallion had warded the room and when he stepped into the wall, she could no longer feel him. Not wanting to alarm him, Medallion nodded and returned to her seat. "So, it's that ability that helped me steal food, money, clothes… I had to be careful and so, I learned which times worked best and how much to take before someone noticed. I had to make sure to take plain-looking things, neglected things. Stuff like that. You're the first person I've ever told. I thought I might finally know what it was called, when I looked at my test results but so much of that section was blurry." Harry shrugged and Medallion was astounded by how casually this young wizard accepted magic.

"Harry?" Harry's eyes fixed on Medallion's. "Try your best to keep that ability to yourself, okay? I don't know what it's called but I'll look into it for you. My concern is that revealing such an ability could put you under an even more brightly-lit spotlight. And there are those, like Dumbledore for instance, who may use this against you. Promise me, please, do your very best to share this with no one else. Also…," Medallion sighed loudly, "it seems I have to talk to you about mind magic sooner than expected." Harry cocked his head to the side and Medallion talked to Harry for much longer than either had anticipated.

--

After breakfast the next morning, Harry ventured into Diagon Alley again. He browsed several shops before making his way to Olivander's Wand Shop. As soon as he entered the shop, he was put off. There was something about the shop Harry did not like and before anyone could attend to him, he walked out. Harry was so unsettled, he walked aimlessly down the Alley for a while. He needed the air and he wondered if there were other places to get a wand. He questioned whether he even needed a wand at all. He could do some things without it. Maybe he could fashion himself a nice, fake wand, or ask Madam Medallion for a recommendation. He'd try to sort this out for himself, first. He decided to return to his list and entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. After being guided to a platform, to await being measured for robes, he glanced around. The shop was filled with fabrics, both on bolts and in the shape of clothing. None of them were as appealing as Jerome's selection. He wondered how this shop stayed in business, with such uninspiring variety. He must have made a face because a smooth voice interrupted his thoughts to say, "What do you see that offends you, exactly?"

Harry turned to face a child around his age, smirking, somehow knowingly. "I get the impression you could guess correctly." The boy chuckled. He had white, blond hair that hung to his shoulders. His eyes were grey but they seemed to shimmer like starlight.

"Perhaps. The fabrics here are basic but it's still the most recommended place for school robes. People think it's more fair to start at Hogwarts with similar robes. From what I've heard, students can start branching out to other shops in their third year, which also coincides with the ability to go into Hogsmeade." The boy rolled his eyes, clearly thinking about something that Harry was not privy to. "My name's Draco, by the way." The boy extended his hand and Harry shook it.

"Harry. So, you'll be starting your first year too?"

"Yes," Draco sighed, as if put upon. "I wanted to go to Beauxbatons but my mother wanted me in the country. And I suppose I will enjoy knowing they are close, should I need anything. But there are portkeys." Another eye roll.

"Have you already gotten your wand?," Harry asked. Just then, Madam Malkin returned. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Come, I can finish measuring you here…"

"That's alright, Madam Malkin. Please continue with Harry. It's only fair and it will allow us to keep chatting." Madam Malkin squinted her eyes but acquiesced. She turned to Harry and began her measuring, muttering to herself and making notes. Draco turned to Harry and smirked.

"In answer to your question, no. I haven't purchased a wand yet. Mother wanted to leave it until last, to keep me focused on the more mundane tasks." Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Draco, darling, please stop rolling your eyes." Draco startled and stood up straight. Harry braced himself, in case Draco's mother was a mean adult, but in the next moment, he relaxed. Mrs. Malfoy glided over to Draco with a subtle smile and kissed his cheek. "Have you finished with your measurements?"

"I-"

"Hello," Harry drew attention to himself. "Draco offered to let me go ahead of him, since I'm so new to this world."

Narcissa turned to Harry, amusement in her eyes. "Did he, now?" Mrs. Malfoy turned to her son, clearly not believing Harry. "That doesn't sound like my Draco at all." She turned to Madam Malkin, "Did he wander off?"

"Don't put me in the middle of this, Lady Malfoy," Malkin said and Narcissa chuckled. "Alright, young man, your measurements are done. What would you like to order?"

Harry, surprised to be addressed, was speechless. "I'm not sure. I know I need school robes because of the list but," Harry looked around, "I'm not sure what my actual choices are… Is there a way to order by post in case I forget something?"

Before Madam Malkin could reply, Mrs. Malfoy spoke, "Hello dear. I apologize for not introducing myself properly. I am Lady Narcissa Malfoy and this if my son, Draco, whom I presume you've already met."

"Hi. I knew his name was Draco," Harry smiled warmly at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Eyes, Draco."

"Yes, mother," Draco smiled sheepishly.

"Draco is resistant to formalities when he's distracted. That would explain why he didn't introduce himself properly or me when I approached. He gets it from me, as you might have gathered since I didn't say "hello" to you when you greeted me. Draco is distracted by the thoughts of wands and familiars. I am simply hungry. Now, as for your robes. The list makes a recommendation but in my opinion, it's not enough. In order of priority, I'd recommend…" Lady Malfoy made suggestions and Harry accepted them all, including the heavy winter cloak with added weather-adjusting charms. She was pleased to see that Harry had access to the necessary funds, especially since this was a child she knew would not accept her generosity. The boy radiated independence and it was clear he was shopping alone. The child, Harry, did not mention his surname or the name of a chaperone. Had he not been so young, she would have admired his ability to avoid revealing what he did not want known.

As they left the shop, Lady Malfoy invited Harry to finish his shopping with them. He was about to decline when Draco spoke up. "Come on, Harry, you were going to ask where to buy a wand, right? We can go together."

"Well, I do know where they tell us to buy a wand but I didn't get a good feeling from the place. So, I was wondering if there were other options?"

"Harry, dear, was Mr. Ollivander rude to you?," Lady Malfoy asked concernedly.

"No, Lady Malfoy, it's nothing like that. I walked in and walked out. I just didn't like the feel of the place. I've been into a lot of shops. That's the only one that put me off." Harry's eyes drifted down the Alley, as if he were trying to glare at the storefront from where he stood.

"Harry, I do know of other shops that sell wands but it would be considered highly inappropriate for me to direct a young boy to those shops. If you were chaperoned, I could guide you there personally but…"

"Oh, I am kinda chaperoned. There's a house elf shadowing me, invisibly, I was told." Harry looked around. "They're not supposed to reveal themselves but maybe they could send you a sign?" Harry looked to Lady Malfoy, who was too surprised to say anything. Harry didn't notice, as he continued on his quest. "Uh, house elf," Harry said, looking around, "could you please give us a sign that you are keeping a close eye on me? Maybe you could…" Harry didn't know what to suggest.

"Ask them to bring you something, like parchment and a quill…" Draco suggested and Harry furrowed his brow.

"House elf, uh, could you please provide some steak pasties and three bottles of water?" A picnic basket appeared and Harry's eyes widened. On top of the basket was a note:

I'm keeping an eye on Mr. Harry, Lady Malfoy.

A smile broke out across Harry's face. "That is very cool. Thank you." Then, Harry turned to Lady Malfoy. "Where shall we eat this? You did say you were hungry. And, please, let's talk about wand options."

Lady Malfoy led them to a small courtyard between two buildings. It didn't look like much from the Alley but once on the grass, the area revealed itself to be more spacious and unexpectedly cozy. Lady Malfoy explained that there were several spots like this along the Alley and though not secret, they were often available to those who wanted a rest or a more private meeting. Harry noticed, as they sat down, that no one seemed to be glancing their way.

"There must be notice-me-not charms on them, right, mother?," Draco asked, turning to Lady Malfoy excitedly.

"It appears so. Now, let's lay out this impromptu picnic, shall we? I'm eager to eat something, as Harry well remembers." Lady Malfoy winked at Harry, as she began unpacking and dispersing the basket's contents. "I've not had pasties in a long time. They smell delicious."

Draco looked carefully at his pasty and Harry got the impression that he'd never had one before. He caught Draco observing Lady Malfoy before taking a bite. When Draco hummed softly in delight, with a curious look on his face, Harry couldn't help but smile. These two were the poshest people he'd ever encountered. Yet, he could admire their ability to adapt to new people and circumstances. They each finished a pasty in companionable silence. When they reached for seconds, Harry spoke, "Could we please talk about the wand options, as we eat?"

Draco sat up enthusiastically and Lady Malfoy sighed amusedly. "Very well. The nearest option is Kylene's. She makes all sorts of custom items and so, it's easily overlooked that she also makes wands. To get to her shop, we must travel through Knockturn Alley and it's considered a less reputable street. It's, shall we say, less family-oriented. Children should never travel down that street alone; of course, I would argue that children should not travel alone full stop. Bright and shiny does not mean safe."

Draco snorted and Harry smiled at him. Lady Malfoy chose not to admonish Draco's casualness. It wasn't often Draco allowed himself to be unguarded. Yet, somehow, it's the only version he had shown to Harry. Draco turned to Harry to say, "You remember what I said about Madam Malkin's robes being the choice for first years?" Harry nodded. "Well, it's the same with Olivander's. I've always wanted a custom wand but father insisted we appeal to the masses-."

"Draco!,” Lady Malfoy interjected. "Do avoid mocking your father, darling, especially in public." Draco rolled his eyes. "Eyes, Draco. By the goddess, what has gotten into you today? I do apologize, Harry, you are meeting my son while he's in rare form." She turned considering eyes on Draco.

"I don't mind. I like how relaxed he is; I don't know if I'd have found him easy to talk to otherwise. As you can tell," Harry said, waving a hand at his person, "I'm far from formal." Harry cheekily raised his water bottle in a mock toast. "To doing the best with what we've got!" Then, he smiled so impishly, Lady Malfoy couldn't help but smile in return.

"My son does speak true. We were decided on Olivander's but it seems fate is redirecting us. I couldn't very well lead you to Kylene's only to turn around and have Draco visit Olivander's." Draco whooped and Harry beamed.

Chapter Text

The walk through Knockturn Alley was odd. People gave them questioning looks, doing double-takes. One woman tripped. Harry became a bit paranoid, wondering if his scar was uncovered. He didn't dare check with his hands. Harry suppressed such urges and adopted as calm an exterior as he could manage. The names of the stores were mostly intriguing, only occasionally alarming. He did not want to know what happened inside "Fears and Wishes". Harry looked around with interest but the two Malfoys looked around very little. He considered that this place was just "old news" to them but he didn't feel that was right. They struck him as "mask people", people who closed off their expressions. He admired that skill and observing them made him think that despite all his experiences, he was still too outwardly open, if the Malfoys were anything to go by.

When they reached Kylene's, Lady Malfoy said, "Harry, I want you to know that no matter what happens or how long this takes, I will escort you back to Diagon, alright?" Harry's eyes widened in alarm but he nodded. "I only say this because Kylene handles each customer differently. She may insist on one or more of us leaving to focus on you or Draco. You two may be able to do part of it together or she'll insist on one by one. She is-"

The door to Kylene's opened suddenly and a voice shouted, "Do shut up, Cissy! Your warning is probably startling the boy more than I ever could! Just come in!"

"And that, children, is Kylene. Let's go inside." Harry stepped in after Draco and looked around. He liked the feel of the place much more than Olivander's. "Do you approve, Harry?"

"I think it'll do, yeah. Thanks!"

"Anytime-"

"What does he mean by “it'll do”? Cissy, who have you brought-" Kylene stopped talking as soon as she spotted Harry. He looked at Lady Malfoy quizzically. Then, her eyes roved to Draco, back to Harry and finally, back to Lady Malfoy. Harry stood still, refusing to break the silence. "Al-right, where was I? Ah, yes, who have you brought with you today, Narcissa?"

Lady Malfoy squinted slightly, a question she would not give voice to, on her lips. "I've brought my son, Draco, and his new acquaintance, Harry."

"Harry?," Kylene questioned Harry, with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't want to introduce yourself properly?"

Harry met her gaze, "It didn't come up."

Kylene hummed. "That is indeed interesting. The Malfoys are known for their formality. Did Draco not introduce himself with his full name?" Kylene questioned no one in particular and chuckled. "Interesting. Well, I think these proceedings will benefit from clarity. I'll close the shop and set up extra wards. Narcissa, dear, please make absolutely sure there are no others who could be listening in or hidden." Kylene said the last word pointedly and Lady Malfoy, though clearly surprised, started waving her wand around as Kylene approached the door.

"Little elf, could you please confirm you are the only one I'm detecting and whether you are allowed to hear these matters?," Lady Malfoy asked the air. A note popped into being and hovered in the air. It read: "I am the only elf and yes, I am allowed to listen, Lady Malfoy. I promise to respect Mr. Harry's and your family's privacy." Seeing the note was similar to the one accompanying the picnic basket, Lady Malfoy questioned no further. She took a moment to observe Harry, who was remarkably calm in a room full of strangers. If it was an act, it was a good one.

Kylene returned just as Harry was wondering if privacy wards would stop him from hearing conversations if he was listening in from within the wall. "Wondering if you could get past my wards, Harry?"

"It seems unlikely given my age and lack of training."

Kylene chucked. "Let's try this again, shall we?" Kylene waved her hand and a table and chairs appeared. "Sit, sit," Kylene gestured wildly. "Tell us who you are Harry and perhaps, remove the head scarf. Fate brought you here with the Malfoys and for better or worse, we must stay the course. But I believe it's better to make the reveal now."

Harry turned to Lady Malfoy and Draco, saying bluntly, "My name is Harry Potter." Harry pulled off his head scarf and Draco choked on air while Lady Malfoy gasped, bringing a hand to her chest.

"You are Harry Potter and you've been allowed to roam a busy shopping district ALONE!" Lady Malfoy stood from her chair so abruptly, her chair wobbled. She paced around the room, muttering to herself. Harry couldn't make it out but when he turned to Kylene, she looked ecstatic.

Kylene winked and said, "Cissy is such a mama bear. Even in school. People love to think of her as cold and calculating,” Kylene said, rolling her eyes, "as if those traits can't be found in mama bears. What rot!" Kylene turned to Draco with a frown. "Poor boy. He's the one we'll have to work on. Draco?" Draco looked horrified. At the sound of his name, he sneered.

"You lied to me?" Draco spoke just above a whisper and it was chilling.

"No. My name is Harry."

"But I told you my surname!,” Draco shouted. That was much better, as far as Harry was concerned.

"You didn't, actually. You introduced yourself as Draco. It was Madam Malkin that mentioned your surname, when she called you, "Mr. Malfoy"." Draco seemed to search his mind and frowned.

"I may want to pensieve the memory but I think you are correct. So, you knew I was a Malfoy and you still came with us through Knockturn Alley." At this, Lady Malfoy turned to the door.

"It's well secured, Narcissa. Even if someone presses their faces to the windows, they'll see nothing."

"I don't know what it means that you are a Malfoy. I barely know what it means to be Harry Potter, much less a part of the Potter family. I grew up amongst muggles, which you already figured out. I wasn't told I was a wizard until I received my Hogwarts letter."

"Oh, you are a sneaky one, aren't you? You knew, though, didn't you?," Kylene said.

"You are…," Harry began and Kylene raised her eyebrows expectantly, entirely unafraid, "insistent." Kylene's resulting grin sparkled. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I did know, yes. I won't tell you how I knew. It's incredibly personal and I'd like to keep it private, at least for now." Harry turned to Kylene, who nodded reassuringly. "But it is true enough that while I was in the muggle world, I wasn't told of magic until after my Hogwarts letter arrived. It was nice to have it confirmed, frankly. I am in the Alley alone because I've mostly been on my own until yesterday. The house elf, Harry gestured to the air, is with me as a sort of compromise with my guardian."

"Your guardian?" Their words were spoken as a question but quietly, as if Lady Malfoy was speaking to herself. Still, Harry offered an answer.

"My guardian has chosen to remain anonymous, for both their and my protection. They were assigned to me just yesterday."

"Yesterday?!," Lady Malfoy screeched. "I have to sit down." Lady Malfoy walked unsteadily back to her chair and pulled Draco into her lap. She squeezed him firmly, rubbing her face again his hair. Draco made a face but otherwise allowed it. Lady Malfoy then turned to Harry, "I gather you have been wronged by more than one person." Harry stared at her unflinchingly, neither confirming nor denying, which of course was answer enough for someone as astute as Lady Malfoy. "Mr. Potter, the Malfoys would not be considered good company for someone such as yourself. I think-"

"I have to interrupt you, Lady Malfoy, but it has to be said that I just don't give a shit." Kylene chuckled and Draco's eyes widened more than Harry thought possible. "Excuse my language, Lady Malfoy, but I wanted to make my conviction clear. Sides, the war, I just don't care. Well, I care, of course. War cannot be ignored and I'll have to educate myself on who the key players and issues are, especially since I'm considered a part of it. But I'm 11 years old and I was left with my magic-hating Aunt Petunia when I was a baby. The "dark" side didn't do that to me; the supposed "light" side did. And if you were the kind of "dark" I needed to fear, I don't think you'd have spent time on someone like me. I pay attention, Lady Malfoy, and before you suggest the possibility that you were playing me, I highly doubt the house elf would have allowed you to be near me for so long." Harry felt a pat on his shoulder and smiled, while he took a moment to marvel that he didn't jump at the contact.

"Isn't he something?" Kylene clapped her hands and sat up straighter. "By Merlin, if only I'd known today was going to be so fun, I'd have ordered little cakes. I'll get you some tea, Cissy. Boys, would you like some too or would you rather some juice?" As Kylene stood up, and before the boys could answer, a selection of treats and beverages appeared on the now expanded table. "I like your elf, kid. Thank you, hidden elf," Kylene said cheerily.

As they ate, Kylene discussed her approach to wand-making and Harry was grateful for the reprieve. He didn't understand why it was so important to reveal his surname now but he could see that it was a big deal. It saddened him to think that something as simple as a surname could be such a barrier to getting to know someone. Surely, a more "favorable" last name didn't guarantee positive relations. He supposed he'd learn more in time but despite himself, he was hoping that his acquaintance with the Malfoys would develop into something more.

"I've been told that my approach is no less enigmatic than Mr. Olivander's but in my shop, the wand does not choose the wizard for a very important reason: intention. A wandmaker's style is a reflection of their personality and for me, magic is all about intention. Yes, there are incantations, wand movements, wrist exercises, even ambient factors to consider. But ultimately, if one does not intend to connect with magic, that link is limited. For instance, a simple lumos." Kylene flicked her wrist, making her wand appear, and said, "lumos". A light appeared at the end of her wand. "This light can be brighter or dimmer depending on my intention. Intention is tied to need, need can affect focus and focus can determine all. However, need alone can often result in accidental magic, particularly in children. Intense focus has been known to compensate for a lack of magical power. The discussion could go on and on. For now, I simply want you to understand that as we embark on this path towards creating your custom wands, your intention is what matters most. So, you will be an active participant in selecting the components of your wands." Draco perked up and Harry looked cautious. So, Kylene turned her attention to Harry, gesturing for him to speak.

"How will we be expected to participate?"

"Nothing too grueling, I assure you. Well," Kylene paused a moment, considering, "not at first. I cannot know the path any one wand will take. But I can assure you that if at any moment you aren't comfortable, we can take a moment to consider options. It is most uncommon for this process to feel jarring or uncomfortable."

"But it has happened?"

"Yes," Kylene said, looking steadily into Harry's eyes, saying nothing beyond the one word.

"I can always go first, Harry. I will let you observe every step you can. I promise."

"That's a very generous offer, young man. Are you sure?," Kylene questioned.

"Yes, I'm sure. It must be overwhelming to be faced with such a process, being so new to the magical world. I know when mother first took me into the muggle world, I jumped at every loud car noise for at least 20 minutes.” Harry furrowed his brow.

“Car noise?"

"He means car horns, dear," Lady Malfoy answered.

"Oh, yeah, they are very loud," Harry agreed and Draco smiled shyly.

"The first part of the process can be done simultaneously, so long as you are not in the same aisles at the same time. Come to the back," Kylene led them to the back of the shop where there were a series of corridors that opened, where one might usually find the back wall of a room. There were symbols on little gold plaques to the left of each corridor. "Not everyone likes walking down the aisle but I would rather you did. First, though, I want you to look at each symbol and make note of the 2 that draw your attention most. Here's a section of parchment and a quill each. Walk just outside the corridors. We aren't at that stage yet."

Harry and Draco walked side by side, at first. But too soon, in Harry's opinion, Draco spotted a plaque that drew his eye. Alone now, though Draco was still within view, Harry continued looking. He found there were more corridors than he originally thought, as he kept walking along where there ought to have been a side wall. Then, just as he was wondering if he'd have to force himself into Olivander's shop after all, a light caught his eye. Harry's head whipped around. Where had that come from, Harry wondered. Harry began to rotate his head slowly back in the other direction. Then, he saw the glint again. This time, instead of trying to look straight at it, he kept it in his eyeline and walked in an odd direction, veering closer. The light grew brighter. So, Harry felt he could look at it directly now. The symbol looked hazy at first and then, he saw it. It pulled at him in a not unpleasant way but it was odd nonetheless. He didn't know if he should make a note of it or not. He turned in the direction of the others, thinking to ask, but they were farther away than he expected. Fuck it, Harry thought and made note of the symbol. The symbol on the page glowed and settled more prettily than he had written it. Harry simply shrugged and carried on. After that, the next symbol was easier to spot, but it was on the last corridor. Harry returned to the group to find the two women happily chatting to one another, while Draco stared awestruck at his parchment.

Draco looked up at the sound of Harry's approach, "Isn't it wonderful, Harry? The first step to getting our very own wands." Harry smiled in return.

"Well done, boys, may I see your parchments?" The two handed them over. "Alright, Draco, since your corridors are nearest, let's start with you."

"I was already going first, remember?"

"Of course, silly me." Kylene smiled and Harry noticed a hint of concern. "Draco, your first symbol has a powerful connection to healing. However, its scope is much farther reaching. I want you to enter this corridor and write down the name of the item that speaks most to you, here," Kylene touched her own breastbone. "You don't have to feel pressure to touch anything but you may, if you need to, okay? Nothing in there should be able to harm you, in their current state. But be careful, nonetheless." Draco nodded and headed down the corridor as Harry watched on from the entrance. "What do you think, so far, Harry?"

"It's odd. If you don't mind me asking, how do you manage to make a profit when each wand takes so long to make?" Kylene laughed.

"Well, for one, I don't usually make wands for children. Adults who do come to me have a greater sense of who they are and more experience to understand the process. So, I can leave them with an attendant for this part, saving a deeper discussion until later. Also, adults usually have a wand in their possession. So, if I don't have time, we can schedule multiple meetings or a longer one at a more opportune time. There's greater flexibility when the need isn't urgent. Also, I charge more," Kylene said cheekily but she could see Harry bristling. "I don't gouge people, not to worry, especially not children. My goddess, kid, you are a fierce one, aren't you?" Kylene fondly shook her head. "Ultimately, though, wands aren't my main source of income. I mostly do this as an aside because Olivander's has the market cornered on first wands, which is where the bulk of potential customers stop in their consideration of wands." Harry hummed but didn't ask anything more.

Draco returned and Kylene guided him to the second corridor. Kylene was about to explain what the accompanying symbol meant when Draco exclaimed, "Magic!"

"Indeed. This is the symbol that represents magic in its untouched form. We breathe it. We are made up of it. We channel it. But in its purest form, it is unknowable. When our time in this form reaches its end, many believe we return to her." Draco's breath hitched and a look of wonder graced his face. Harry almost wished he could feel the same but for someone who witnessed death so young, he didn't really want to think about where his parents might have ended up. If they were with magic, he was even more alone than he thought. They were not watching out for him or waiting to meet him on "the other side". He was well and truly in their rearview mirror, a mirror they couldn't even look into. Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, to find Kylene looking at him sadly.

"It's nothing," Harry said, too forcefully.

"It's not nothing, Harry. But it's also not everything." Harry nodded curtly and looked at Draco, as he happily walked the length of the corridor. This time, his selection took longer. Harry was beginning to feel awkward, just staring, when Draco stopped and cocked his head. He looked as if he were trying to listen to a sound. Draco began to reach forward with his right hand and Harry tensed. "It's alright, Harry. I promise." Then, a drawer popped open and a white feather jumped out of the drawer and hovered in front of Draco. It seemed cheeky, somehow, and Draco laughed.

"May I?," Draco asked, holding out his palm, and the feather glided into his hand. Draco ran to the opening of the corridor, shouting, "I did it! An Occamy feather, can you believe it?!"

Harry didn't know what the heck an Occamy was but if Draco was happy, Harry would be happy for him. Kylene seemed pleased too. As she turned to Harry, she said, "Now, Harry, I think it's best if Draco stays with his mother while you and I make our way to your chosen corridors. Is that alright with you?" Harry considered this and looked to Lady Malfoy.

"Are you sure you are okay to wait for me, Lady Malfoy?"

"Yes, dear. You take all the time you need. I've already sent a message to my husband, letting him know not to expect us soon; and if need be, we'll order in some food." Harry nodded and turned to Draco.

"Are you okay not seeing my selections, even though I saw yours?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "I'm curious, of course, but we knew this might happen. Plus, you barely know me. Your privacy is easy to respect, Harry. And if your wand needs you alone for this part, it would be offensive to Magic to insist upon my presence. I'll be here when you are done." Harry nodded and turned to Kylene.

"Let's do this," Harry looked resolute and inside, Kylene chuckled.

Chapter Text

"The first corridor you chose does not reveal itself to most, Harry, as I'm sure you've gathered. The reason being that this corridor has some of the more rare, delicate and/or volatile components in wand-making. Some are even frowned upon but I assure you that none of them were harvested through cruelty. The item was either willfully given or shed naturally. I think it's best you walk this corridor alone but I will be watching carefully. If you feel at all uncomfortable, you may call for me or simply return to collect me. I think that I can be with you, if you feel moved to request my presence. Trust yourself but please do not touch any component that does not leap into your space. Do not even reach for a component, even if it calls to you. When the item calls to you, stand in front of it and breathe calmly. Let whatever calls to you make its way to you at its own pace. Do you understand?," Kylene asked and Harry nodded. "Please respond verbally."

"Yes, I understand."

"Very well, when you're ready," Kylene said.

Harry took a breath and looked at the symbol on the door. Kylene didn't explain its meaning and he did not think that was an oversight. He wasn't concerned, though. Harry squared his shoulders and stepped into the corridor. A gust of wind seemed to greet him and he felt oddly at peace. He continued walking and as he did so, he could hear murmurs and if he wasn't mistaken, giggles. "That's not weird at all," Harry muttered. "Okay, breathe in… breathe out…" Harry spotted a shimmer coming from what appeared to be the end of the corridor, he felt compelled to rush towards it but he forced himself to walk a little more quickly instead. The murmurings grew quieter and the giggles ceased. It wasn't an eerie silence but a bated one. "I'm here. I'll just wait now." Harry heard a giggle and a "shh". Not weird at all. In an effort to not get distracted, Harry closed his eyes and kept breathing. The breeze that first welcomed him seemed to return but he focused on his breath, setting his intention to find the right component for his wand. Your first wand, a voice seemed to say. A little startled, Harry kept focusing on his breath. Then, Harry felt a nudge within his chest and he opened his eyes to see a soft-looking, red plume. It seemed to stand regally. "Hi," Harry said, "Would you like to join me?" Harry held out his palm and he could've sworn the plume eased onto his palm as one would sink into a warm bath. It seemed to say "I suppose”, in a haughty tone. Harry didn't understand what was going on but he could roll with it. He didn't feel unsafe, after all.

Kylene's eyes widened fractionally, Harry noticed, but she composedly said, "From the head of a male basilisk. It would appear you have an affinity with magical snakes, Mr. Potter. Are you, by any chance, a parselmouth? It is seen as a rare gift in England but there are many in the world. It isn't common but it's not unheard of. The one who gave you that scar on your forehead is a parselmouth and there are those who demonize the ability. Frankly, it's ridiculous. Magical gifts are to be welcomed, not shunned." At Harry's quizzical look, Kylene elaborated. "Parselmouths can speak to snakes, both magical and non-magical."

"Oh, then, yeah, I think so. I've come across a handful of snakes in my life and we seemed to understand each other well," Harry said flippantly and Kylene hummed.

"I have a few snakes in the back. We could test the theory, if you'd like. It would be wise to know for sure before discovering this in public. If you are, I'd recommend you study your magical lineage. It's best to have a possible explanation, in case some fool tries to say you acquired it from "the Dark Lord"," Kylene said, rolling her eyes.

"I'd like to test the theory, sure, but in private first, okay? If I am a parselmouth, I'll tell the Malfoys but I want to accept the knowledge privately first."

"That's wise. Now, as for the second corridor, hold the basilisk plume in your right hand. Oh, did I tell you that component is from a basilisk, a male one, to be exact. Females don't have them." Harry nodded, to show he received the information, and yet again, Kylene internally marveled at this boy's demeanor. He wasn't exactly unflappable but his restraint was impressive. She wasn't so naive as to think this was innate but she refused to pity the boy. People like him didn't tend to appreciate that at all. She learned that long ago. "As I was saying, hold the plume in your right hand and walk down the hall. This corridor is safer but it's tricky. Components have been known to make people work for them. So, it's imperative that you radiate intent. Much like in the last corridor, let the component come to you and avoid a battle of wills. If a component tries to give chase or taunt, hold your ground. Some will practically pout and return to their compartment. That's okay. You stay true to your intent and focus on why you are here. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Now, you shouldn't need me but like before, I'll be attentive." Harry nodded.

The feel of this corridor was excitable. It wanted to pull him in different directions but Harry held firm. He wasn't here to play. He was here to select his second component. Just as Kylene said, he could feel pouting. How was that even possible? In one section, a series of what looked like porcupine quills leapt out menacingly and circled him. Harry glared and said softly, "Don't even think about it. I won't hesitate to break you." Again, there was that pout in the air and the quills returned single-file to their compartment. Harry kept walking until he had to stop abruptly, feeling like something was watching him. He was instantly alert but unafraid. Harry sensed assessment and curiosity. He was moved to sit down and hold out his right hand. A shiver ran down his spine but he couldn't interpret it. He held out his other hand too and felt a presence settle just out of reach. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a few stands of coarse fur appeared. They braided themselves in front of his eyes and moved closer. Harry was eager to reach for them but he held still. The thin braid glided to his left wrist and somehow, closed itself off. It was now like a bracelet. Harry didn't know what this meant. Was this his wand component or a bonus adornment? Harry didn't want to move. So, he called out to Kylene and soon after, she joined him.

"Ah, niffler fur. Interesting,” Kylene said, smiling serenely.

"I didn't expect it to wrap around me."

"It simply wants to bond with you a bit more before becoming part of your wand. It's not uncommon. It's safe to get up. Now," Kylene's eyes brightened, "it's time for the wood!"

In the end, Draco and Harry met with Kylene privately to choose their wand woods. Harry spent time with Lady Malfoy while Draco eagerly joined Kylene in a back room. "Lady Malfoy, do you have a custom wand?"

"I do, yes, would you like to take a closer look?" Harry nodded, not realizing how generous such an offer was in the wizarding world. The wood seemed impossibly smooth but with a marbled look. Harry didn't touch it but he studied it carefully. "The wood is a mix of ash and elderberry. I was one of Kylene's first customers. She nearly decided against making wands but Ollivander told her it would be an affront to magic if she didn't honor the calling. So, she capitulated and weathered the criticism of those who mistook competition for offense."

"People can be very stupid."

"I wouldn't have put it like that but yes, I completely agree."

"May I move my hand closer? I promise not to touch it." Narcissa nodded. "Wow, it feels alive. Do you think the components move around in there?"

Narcissa smiled. "You'd have to ask Kylene about the behavior of the components once encased in the wood. But magic does indeed feel alive. I'm impressed you can so comfortably make such a statement. Many have to be taught to feel magic. They have to work at discerning between different levels of magic."

"Maybe it's because I grew up in the muggle world, the distinction was all the more clear."

"Perhaps, but one could argue that would make it even harder to notice differences here, especially in a shop such as this one."

"But I was just in a corridor with many magical items. So, my senses are probably on high alert." Harry chuckled.

"You don't take praise easily, do you, Harry?"

"I'm not accustomed to it. So, no."

"Should our acquaintance evolve, Harry, I'd welcome more information about your life. Even if you never wish to speak of such things, I will answer your call for assistance. If it is within my power, I will do what I can. Children should be where they are welcome. Anywhere else is inexcusable. No matter the reason. No matter from whose mouth the reason is spoken." Harry met her eyes, revealing nothing and it panged Narcissa's heart. Narcissa nodded once. "I hope you take my words to heart, Harry, but I shall not press for an acknowledgement." Harry looked away and when he met her eyes again, it was clear he had chosen to move on.

"Could you please tell me about the houses of Hogwarts? Someone wants me to be wary of Slytherins but I am not inclined to trust them."

"Day 2 in the magical world and already, someone wants you thinking ill of Slytherins. I am not surprised. Very well, I shall tell you. The students of Hogwarts are sorted into one of four houses. The houses are located in different sections of the castle and that is where you are expected to sleep, study and socialize. There are other places to study, like the library or an empty classroom. And technically, you can socialize with other houses but it's becoming increasingly uncommon, unfortunately. For instance, the Great Hall is where the students eat and there are four main tables. Students are technically allowed to eat with friends at different tables but when a student does so, the rest of the Hall tends to pay a little too much attention, as if waiting for the fallout. It's ridiculous but the increased separation was so gradual that it went unchallenged and now, people act as if it was always this way." Lady Malfoy went on to describe the four houses and the more stereotypical traits associated with each house, cautioning him on the dangers of thinking fellow students were so simply defined. "Children grow up, experiences shaping them. One cannot define another for the rest of their lives, based on the most prominent traits they held at age 11." Finally, Lady Malfoy revealed that she was sorted into Slytherin and carefully observed Harry, as she explained how many view Slytherins today, as well as a significant reason why: the Dark Lord aka You-Know-Who aka… aka…

That guy goes by a lot of names, Harry thought. "I imagine I'll be sorted into Slytherin too, then."

"You think so, Harry?"

"I do. I'm definitely not a Hufflepuff. I feel like all those kids probably come from loving homes, to have that much belief in others." To her surprise, Narcissa had to suppress a laugh. "I value knowledge but I'm not put off by dim-witted people. They have their uses, after all. I know how that sounds but I think you understand me. As for Gryffindor, it doesn't resonate with me. Something about it feels too "in the spotlight" whereas Slytherin, that feels right."

"Which part of Slytherin feels the most right?," Lady Malfoy asked too casually.

Harry offered a secret smile, saying, "I think your guess would be accurate enough." At this, Lady Malfoy did laugh.

"Touché, Harry, touché."

Chapter Text

When Kylene came to collect Harry, Draco wasn't with her. At Harry's inquisitive look, Kylene simply said, "He'll be out soon. He's spending time with my owl, Ines. She's fond of attention and Draco's so happy about his wand that he's showering her with affection. Ines is loving it." Harry didn't have to do much when it came to determining the wand wood. His two components and the parchment he'd written on were placed in the center of a circle on the floor. They rose together and swirled around each other. It looked like a dance. Kylene explained that together, they'd call to a wood that would join them and the compatibility would be tested. If more than one wood was called, the woods would have a battle of sorts, to display their worth. "It's hard to explain. If, at another time, you truly wish to know more, I will gladly discuss it. But for now, let's see what your components want, yes?"

"Yes."

In the end, Harry's components called to a warm chestnut, the origin tree still beloved by a community of bowtruckles. Harry didn't know what those were; so, he just added it to the list of things to look up or watch out for later. Hesitantly, Kylene explained that his wand was asking for his blood. She warned him that in the magical world, blood was to be managed very carefully as it could be used for nefarious purposes. She touched on how blood magic was viewed today and seemed truly saddened by how such magic had fallen out of favor. She promised on her magic that she would not abuse the privilege, should he choose to proceed. He gave permission and watched carefully as she crafted his wand. The end result was stunning. It felt perfect in his hands.

"I've kept it nondescript on purpose, Harry. I don't want others to immediately assume you didn't go to Ollivander’s."

"Do you want me to hide where it came from?,” Harry asked and Kylene paused to consider his question.

"Not necessarily but I'd recommend that you be evasive with those you do not trust. Allow them to formulate their own opinions. Wands are often passed down within families or rediscovered within their Gringotts vaults. As a fan of custom wands, I don't love that approach but to each their own, you know?" Harry nodded. "Your wand is uniquely attuned to you, Harry. The blood it called for will ensure that people who mean you harm, or you do not trust, cannot use it. It will return to you with a thought, should you be separated from it." Before Kylene could continue, Harry interrupted with a question, one very important to him.

"What if I trust them but they do mean to harm me?"

"I cannot promise that is impossible but it is most unlikely. Our deeper selves know what we are not yet able to see or accept ourselves. Furthermore, your wand wants to keep you safe and is likely even more guarded than you are," Kylene said, smiling knowingly at Harry. "So, I'd bet that even a malicious tickling charm couldn't head your way, with your own wand, if that is what the caster intended. But, a word of caution Harry, please don't assume that if someone cannot use your wand that they are never to be trusted. Your wand would likely reject most users. I can see that you are far more distrusting than most children your age and I'd hate to see you miss out on potential connections because they are not more attuned to you." Harry seemed pensive but said nothing. "Alright, Mr. Effusive, let's go see Cissy and Draco."

As soon as Harry stepped out of the room, Draco stepped in front of him. He wasn't so close as to startle Harry but it was a near thing. "Harry! Don't you just love your wand? Did you meet Ines?,” Draco asked enthusiastically.

"Oh, that reminds me, Kylene, you were going to show me something?"

"I do apologize, I forgot. We'll be right back, Draco, and then, I'll collect you to see some of my other little friends, alright?" Draco nodded but he looked a little deflated. They left Lady Malfoy to soothe Draco, as Kylene led Harry to her snake collection.

"These are my reptiles, Harry," Kylene said, gesturing dramatically. "If you can indeed speak to them, please tell that one there," Kylene pointed to a surly looking snake with yellow eyes, "that I did not mean to scratch him." Then, she looked at the snake and said, "It was an accident and you know it. I don't know why you're staring at me as if I deserve to be bitten." Looking back to Harry, she continued, "I'll just busy myself in this corner. You take your time."

Harry looked at the snakes, feeling a little foolish. He didn't know what to say and then, a thought occurred to him. ~"I got my first wand."~ Harry showed his wand. ~"Draco is pretty excited about this and I guess I am too. But it's overwhelming, you know?"~

~"Why is this biped speaking to us?"~

~"I am speaking to you because I'm supposed to test out my parseltongue ability."~ Harry missed Kylene's look of surprise as, what seemed like, her entire snake collection hissed at the same time.

~"A speaker!"~

~"Oh, good, tell the wood worker that I don't like being handled on the weekends. That is my time!"~

~"What do you know about weekends? That's absurd!"~

~"I don't like weekends either. Those of us who can keep track of days shouldn't be judged by the likes of you."~

~"Do stop fighting! We have company."~

Harry left them to their arguing and focused on the yellow-eyed, surly one. ~"Hello. Kylene wanted me to tell you that she's really sorry for scratching you. It was an accident."~

~"As if I don't know that. I'm not upset with her for that."~

~"Oh, well, that's what she thinks you're upset about."~

~"No, that unobservant biped! She changed my tank. I liked the old one."~

Harry turned to Kylene, "He says he knows you didn't mean to scratch him. That's not what he's upset about. He wants his old tank back."

"What? This one's newer. I thought he deserved a fresher one." Harry acted as translator for a while and they reached a compromise. He would return to his old tank until Kylene could make the newer one smell more like home. It was too new and the snake didn't like it. "Well that was a surprise. I never would have guessed he was angry about his tank. Thank the goddess I didn't get rid of it!" Kylene sighed at the look of Harry's impassive face. "Kid, you're unnerving me right now. You've got a new wand. An awesome wand, I must emphasize. You just confirmed you are a parselmouth. Yet, you look totally unaffected. What's it gonna take to get you to beam with childhood delight?"

Harry chuckled, "I'm just processing. It's a lot."

"I suppose so. Well, when the thrill of your wand moves you, drop me a line, yeah? But send it through Cissy, or your guardian, in case anyone is watching your post." Harry looked at her, consideringly.

"That's a good point. Post can be monitored…" Harry drifted into his thoughts but he was soon in front of a jubilant Draco, who spoke reverently about his wand. He was excited enough for both of them; so, Harry was saved from having to say much. Kylene led them to her little friends, as she called them. They were kept separate from the snakes, who she did not consider her friends. At best, she thought of herself as their keeper. They entered a large room with subsections, filled with all manner of creatures.

"It's best not to approach them. This is their home and they only know me but some of the braver or more curious ones will sometimes wander," Kylene said. They stayed there for a while, observing and chatting. When Harry thought no one was looking, he pulled out his wand and smiled. All three, of course, noticed. Kylene beamed at Cissy, winking. Narcissa looked on fondly and Draco was delighted to see Harry display some of the joy he himself was feeling. In time, a few creatures made their way closer. A niffler climbed up Harry’s leg and stood on his thighs. "Don't go taking anything from him, Gregory. He's a guest. Harry, this is a niffler."

"Oh, I see. Hello there, Gregory. As Kylene said, I'm Harry." The niffler shook himself, leaving behind a good amount of fur, as he retreated to the shade of a nearby tree.

"He likes you, Harry. Shall I weave his fur into a bracelet for you?" Kylene asked pointedly. Harry nodded and soon, he had a thicker version of the braid he was wearing after visiting the second corridor. He didn't know it but Kylene did; this was the very same niffler’s fur. Kylene looked forward to learning how the fur would behave, now that it was on his wrist permanently. "There'll be no need to remove it for bathing or exercise. It is unlikely to fall off and will resist removal from anyone who isn't you. If, however, it ever does fall off or is removed, please let me know." Harry nodded and stared at the bracelet in quiet awe. He liked that it looked like one continuous loop.

Draco was visited by an owl who groomed his hair and then tugged at him till he got up to follow. He was led to a tree and Kylene joined them. "What is it you want, girl?" The owl returned to Draco's shoulder, pulled a hair from his head and returned to her nest. The owl draped the hair on one of her eggs and looked at Kylene. "Ah, I see, she's claiming one of her hatchlings for you."

"Really?," Draco asked, excitedly.

"Really. So, don't go acquiring another owl. You'll have to use family or school owls until this one is ready for you. I'll keep you updated, through your mother, and let you know when it's a good time to visit." Draco nodded and practically bounced on his toes.

Chapter Text

When they left the room, Harry asked Kylene, "If a letter is sent via owl and post can be monitored, what kind of owl do you recommend? Are there battle owls? Is that a thing?" Astonished, Lady Malfoy turned to Harry and then looked at Kylene.

Kylene ignored Cissy and answered easily. "Personally, I think it's best to have an unassuming owl, one that is easily underestimated. The bond is what is most important. Do right by your owl and she will do right by you. There is the option to train them and you can cloak your letters, so that it looks like your owl isn't carrying anything. Adornments can be deceiving as well. You could buy your owl a charm imbued with protective magics but take care that the magic does not hold onto magical signatures. If the worst should happen, it's best to leave people in doubt that the owl was ever yours."

"Wouldn't a charm be obvious, though?"

"I see your point but you could hide it in the feathers. You could choose a rope necklace that others may mistake for a twig. Basically, think outside the box."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Harry looked at his wrist and thought of Jerome's scarves. Could he request a notice-me-not, custom scarf that would blend into an owl's feathers? He'd have to wait until he found the right owl, to see what she liked.

Draco looked at his mother in confusion. She shook her head to communicate now was not the time and they could discuss it later. He was familiar with that look. "Another thing to consider, Harry," Lady Malfoy said, "is that there are more obscure ways of communicating. Journals and mirrors can be charmed to communicate with one another. There are several one-way communications too, like the Patronus charm or a modified Protean Charm. There's much to learn and with drive, you'll discover prefered methods, I'm sure." Harry nodded, clearly intrigued, which caused Lady Malfoy and Kylene to exchange amused looks.

——

They eventually left Kylene's with their wands, holsters and care kits. Kylene recommended a shop specializing in magical familiars, complaining that the shop on Diagon Alley was too narrow in scope. It seemed that Hogwarts misled students. Few animal types were allowed as pets but familiars could not be denied. The shop was down a side street, off Knockturn Alley, called Cottonwood Lane. It could be accessed in the same way Diagon Alley was accessed via the Leaky Cauldron. So, Harry got to more closely observe someone tapping on the bricks that would allow passage. Lady Malfoy said she did not know this street but that Kylene would never lead them astray. As soon as they stepped onto the Lane, Harry loved it. It felt familiar along his skin, the way it felt when he sank into a wall.

"Wow," Harry breathed.

"This meets with your approval, huh?," Draco asked playfully and Harry, again wearing his headscarf, turned to look at Draco.

"Oh, absolutely, what do you think, Blondie? Can I call you “blondie”?"

Draco startled, "Absolutely not. But the Lane is appealing, I suppose." Harry beamed.

"Works for me. Let's look around."

"Please stay close, darlings."

"Yes, mother."

"Yes, Lady Malfoy."

Narcissa wanted to give the boy permission to call her Cissa but until his presence was known to the magical world, she worried it would put him in danger. She wanted to allow him the chance to cultivate his own story. Plus, there was the matter of checking in with her husband and Severus Snape. That man, as far as she was concerned, had a lot of explaining to do. What good was it being so near Dumbledore, if his information was going to be unreliable? If she discovered that his bias against James Potter kept him from ascertaining the truth, she would make him sorry. By the goddess herself, she promised.

Narcissa watched on as the boys looked into the shop windows of Cottonwood Lane. Her son was in rare form, as exuberant as she'd ever seen him in public. So, before she left Kylene's, while Harry was carefully choosing his wand holster, she pulled him aside to explain the importance of keeping Harry's parseltongue ability private. It was Harry's information to share, as he saw fit. And when Harry joined them, she impressed upon them both the need to be cautious when speaking in public. “Someone is always within earshot,” Narcissa had said. Harry listened avidly and Draco nodded in a way that said: I know, mother!

"Lady Malfoy?," Harry called and Narcissa walked closer. “May we go into this shop? It looks like they sell shaved ice. Is that a magical thing too?" Narcissa did not know what shaved ice was but she gave permission to enter. She enjoyed the shaved ice more than she would have expected. Harry seemed to be contemplating his selection and Draco looked like he was eating something forbidden. She found it hilarious.

"You know, I get the impression this street welcomes more muggle influences. Draco, darling, perhaps we'll be able to find you a music player?" Narcissa turned to Harry and explained. "Muggle electronics do not do well in magical environments. It certainly limits how much a magical person can explore their curiosity about muggle things."

"Oh, that's good to know. I'll change my plans, then. I was going to buy a radio and a walkman, now that I have access to Gringotts." Internally, Narcissa frowned.

As they continued exploring the street, Narcissa confirmed that muggle influences were found throughout the Lane. Harry and Draco were able to buy walkmans and a selection of cassette tapes. Harry was thrilled to find a Blondie cassette and showed it to Draco, who made an attempt to scowl. It fell short but Harry would still respect his wishes to not be called Blondie. When they finally entered the shop that set them on this path to begin with, they were ready to wrap things up. So, it's a good thing that familiars were not difficult to choose. They either wanted you or they didn’t. Draco roamed around aimlessly, trusting his magic to guide him. Harry walked alongside him until suddenly an animal that looked like a cat leapt to a tree branch just above their heads. Draco startled and looked up. The animal repositioned themselves and looked down at Draco, assessing him. Harry decided to leave them to it and focus on his own search. He made his way to the snakes; the Gringotts test did reveal a strong connection to them, after all. There was also his wand, of course. Harry purposely did not speak to them, as he looked studiously into each tank.

~”I can tell you are a speaker, little one, even if you are holding your tongue."~ Harry deliberately did not look in the direction of the voice.

~"You say that all the time,"~ another voice said.

~"Hush, you garden snake. I do not.”~

~"Both of you, be quiet. I'm resting."~

Harry turned to walk away, to see how they would react. He nearly yelped when a snake appeared on his arm. ~"You are not leaving without me. I am yours and you are mine."~ This was a new voice. The snake slithered along his arm and moved to whisper in Harry's ear. ~"It's wise of you to not speak in front of others but rest assured, snakes hold speakers in high regard. They would not intentionally harm you. Come, let's go. But if you are looking for an owl, there's one I enjoy. Do consider her."~ Harry walked to the attendant to declare his claim on the snake and asked to be shown to the owls. Once he entered the owlery, a little owl flew to his shoulders immediately.

^"Oh! Is it time to leave? Finally!"^ Harry jumped. He could understand the owl. How could he understand the owl?! Harry could not remember understanding any other animal before.

~"Shh. Don't startle the wizard. Come, wizard, let's get out of here. We can all become more acquainted later. And don't let on to the attendant that you can hear us."~

Harry turned to the attendant and said, "I guess that's it for me."

"You know, neither of them have shown interest in anyone other than each other. On their own, they are a handful. Together…" the attendant said, drifting off and shaking his head. “They are sneaky. Keep a close eye on them. You don't want them getting you into trouble." Harry could almost feel his companions’ eyerolls.

When Harry met up with Draco, he was standing proudly next to his cat-like creature. Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry, who simply shook his head amusedly. Harry paid for his selections and together, they headed out. They made their way out of Cottonwood Lane and down Knockturn Alley. Once on Diagon Alley, Lady Malfoy said, "Harry, is there anywhere I can take you?"

"No, thank you, Lady Malfoy. I'll be heading to the house soon after a quick stop at Gringotts."

"Then, we shall accompany you. There's an apparition point not far beyond Gringotts."

"Wait, mother, could you please get us those linked journals? Harry lives in the muggle world. It wouldn't be as easy to send owls, would it?" Lady Malfoy turned to Harry, inquiringly.

"If Draco would like to keep in touch, that would be best. My Aunt Petunia will already have a difficult time accepting the one owl and the snake," Harry said matter-of-factly and Lady Malfoy did her best not to scowl. She then led them to a familiar store. Once they entered, Harry heard Jerome's voice.

"Hank! You've returned! Oh, and you've brought company! Lady Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again." Jerome bowed in Lady Malfoy's direction. Harry thought she and Draco did a great job of maintaining unreadable faces, upon hearing Harry called Hank.

"It's good to see you too, Jerome. I didn't realize you knew our new acquaintance here," Lady Narcissa said.

"Oh, yes, Hank here is a big fan of our scarves. He's wearing one now," Jerome said proudly.

"I did notice its quality but I confess, I didn't guess it was one of yours."

"Probably because Hank specifically requested it not stand out too much, seeing as he's living amongst muggles."

Lady Malfoy steered the conversation to the desired journals and Jerome disappeared into the back to select an assortment of options. Both he and Lady Malfoy agreed that it was best that the journals not match and as the boys made their selections, Lady Malfoy reviewed the optional charms with Jerome. Harry chose a green, hardcover book with gold filigree on the spine. Draco chose a slightly smaller, black, softcover book with an onyx stone, patterned inlay on the front. The books were charmed to be readable only to them or those with permission. The pages would never run out and there was a section that allowed for notes to self, that the other could not read. They could exchange books but the notes to self would only be visible, if verbal permission was given. They were also charmed to be waterproof and returnable, should they ever misplace it.

Harry tried to pay for his own book but Lady Malfoy would not allow it. Lady Malfoy took some time to look around, while Harry talked to Jerome about "owl scarves". Harry discussed his idea for a necklace of sorts that would protect the owl from anyone trying to intercept the post they carried. Jerome was disappointed that the camouflage idea was a good one, since he preferred scarfs that stood out, but he was otherwise eager to entertain the idea.

"Two ideas in two days, Hank! I'll have to recommend you as a potential investor," Jerome teased. Harry, however, thought it was a splendid idea.

"If you think it's a good fit, I'm open to the idea," Harry said earnestly. Jerome paused.

"I can't tell if you're joking," Jerome said cautiously and Harry smiled.

"I like that you can't tell but I assure you, I'm serious. I'll have to talk it over with my account manager and they'll have to check with my guardian. But I think we can sort something out. I like what you've got going here and it's never too soon to invest," Harry said. Lady Malfoy joined them just in time to hear Harry's last two sentences and Jerome turned to look at her.

"I tell you, Lady Malfoy, if he isn't placed in Slytherin, I'll question the validity of the sorting methods." Lady Malfoy smiled fondly and Draco bounced over at the word, "Slytherin".

"You really think he'll be in Slytherin? We'll be together, then. I'll definitely be sorted into Slytherin." Draco looked so hopeful, Harry could only grin.

As they left Jerome's shop, Lady Malfoy said, "If it helps, when Jerome discovers who you really are, I'll help smooth things over if it's a problem." Harry turned to Lady Malfoy and smiled shyly.

"Thank you. I met him so soon after I arrived. I hadn't even been to Gringotts. I didn't know what to say. ‘Hank’ is a nickname for Harry. It seemed like a nice compromise."

"I know you have some understanding of how this world sees you, Harry, but it is so much more. The house you end up in will likely be front page news." Harry's eyes widened and Lady Malfoy smiled sympathetically.

To everyone's surprise, Draco took Harry's hand. "Not to worry. I'll help you determine who your real friends are; I know we'll be great friends. I can feel it." Draco let go, smiling comfortingly, and Harry smiled too.

They continued on towards Gringotts and Lady Malfoy insisted on escorting Harry to the counter, until she could visibly see him in capable hands. Medallion stepped away from her place at the counter and joined them.

"Madam Medallion, look. I have an owl and a snake. Oh, and do you know Lady Malfoy?,” Harry rushed to say. When she nodded, he continued. "This is her son, Draco. They were a big help today, Madam Medallion, and she insisted on escorting me back to Gringotts." Harry turned a bright smile to Lady Malfoy as he said, "I was told she's a mama bear. I think that's true." Harry paused for a moment, frowning in thought. Before anyone else found their words, Harry continued, "Oh, my apologies, Lady Malfoy, Draco, this is Madam Medallion. I don't think I handled the introductions properly." He giggled and Narcissa was pleased to see him finally act like an 11 year old.

Narcissa found her voice and said, "Madam Medallion, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance." Madam Medallion shook her head and Lady Malfoy bowed her head subtly. "I would like a private word, if you wouldn't mind. Nearby should be fine, with a select privacy ward." Madam Medallion nodded. "Boys, would you please talk amongst yourselves while I have a quick word with Madam Medallion?"

Harry looked concernedly at Madam Medallion, who nodded reassuringly. It was an exchange Narcissa did not miss. Draco agreed and suggested they go look at a mural on a nearby wall. Madam Medallion led Narcissa a little closer to the boys and waved her hand to put up a privacy ward. She knew the house elf was still watching out for Harry, and by default, the Malfoy child. So, she focused her attention on the witch and said, "Lady Malfoy, what did you wish to discuss?"

"I know he is Harry Potter and I want to offer my assistance. I can see that he is too independent to signal a happy upbringing. He knows I can tell and I offered my assistance. He, of course, barely acknowledged I spoke." Narcissa smiled fondly. "If ever he could benefit from my assistance, and it is within my power to give, please contact me. The boys plan to keep in touch. Draco seems to have chosen Harry and I can only hope Harry chooses him back. Today, I believe, we were useful to him. Tomorrow, he may decide otherwise."

"Lady Malfoy, would your husband be as taken with him as you seem to be?"

"Lord Malfoy is an unknown, I'll admit, but I will make clear my position. I can keep you updated, if you would like."

"I would."

"Then, I believe we understand each other. May your enemies cower at your feet." Narcissa offered another subtle bow of her head. When she looked up again, Madam Medallion spoke once more.

"May my enemies be yours as well."

Narcissa blinked, astonished. She had not heard that one before and she got the distinct impression that Madam Medallion would draw weapons to protect the boy.

Chapter Text

Harry spent time with Madam Medallion before returning to the Dursleys. He wished he didn't have to leave. A small part of him worried that the next departure from the magical world would be a one-way trip. Harry fought that concern. At least there was a new understanding with his aunt. It might even allow him the time and peace needed to come to terms with his changed circumstances. Harry was determined to keep what he had gained.

Madam Medallion made clear what the next step should be. His Aunt Petunia needed to meet with Gringotts. Fortunately, Gringotts could be found in the muggle world too. They were hidden in plain sight, disguised as regular banks. The cover worked especially well because the muggle side of the business was entirely real. Muggles could work and bank there without ever realizing their interconnectedness with magical beings. Harry’s aunt would think she was meeting with non-magical humans in a bank she recognized. Paperwork would then be signed and things would be more formalized.

Madam Medallion thought it best that Harry not attend the meeting and Harry could only agree. He had enough on his plate, after all. The biggest reveal of their conversation was courtesy of Argo. They're who had been following Harry around. Argo had not only been tasked with protecting Harry; Madam Medallion had requested that they observe Harry to consider becoming his personal house elf. There were house elves who worked with goblins and this knowledge, though not exactly secret, was closely guarded. And since people liked to believe what they wanted to believe, some heard this information only to dismiss it as preposterous rumors. House elves were more widely known as being bound to magical human families, without much say in the matter. Medallion said the topic was far more complicated, with much history, and should be saved for another day.

What was important now, however, was that Argo had chosen to become Harry's personal house elf. Harry got the impression this was a very big deal and so, he silently promised to do his best to honor this decision. Argo would still keep their strong ties with the Goblin Nation but would prioritize Harry's needs. Argo would bind themselves to Harry but it would be more similar to a companionship bond. It would be unbreakable and it would supersede any interference persons like Dumbledore could think up. However, Argo was not - and this was made very clear - his to control or abuse. Harry's eyes widened at that and turned to Argo, "I would never wish to control or abuse you, I swear it. Should I ever behave that way, please bring me to Madam Medallion and make sure someone hasn't put compulsions on me." Argo gave him a scrutinizing look and nodded.

Argo, it turned out, would accompany Harry to the Dursleys. They would stay out of sight of the muggles and as needed, squibs like Dudley. So, there was no need to mention their presence to his relatives. It was not yet clear whether Argo would be able to visit Hogwarts but the matter was under review. That said, if Harry ever needed Argo, and only desperately, Argo would hear the call and do their best to get to him. "Argo?" Harry hesitated, "is there a way to talk to you without you having to get to me? Like today, we had a form of communication going but that's only because you were so close, right?" They then proceeded to work on some communication ideas, a topic they could further explore at the Dursleys.

The binding ritual was odd. It involved both blood and magic. Harry had gotten the impression that if he'd expressed an unwillingness to enter this type of bond, there would have been an alternative. But Harry trusted Madam Medallion and liked Argo well enough to proceed. Argo relaxed a bit after they'd completed the ritual but it was clear that Argo was a guarded individual. When it was over and the three were enjoying tea and biscuits, Medallion’s tone shifted.

"Now, Harry, this is very important. Never reveal, to anyone beyond this room, that Argo is bound to you. We will build on the story that is already in place. Argo is your magical guardian's house elf and they have been instructed to assist you. You may allow your connection with Argo to develop however the two of you decide but let others think this is due to your ignorance, having grown up in the muggle world. Do not let on that such a ritual even exists." Medallion sighed. "I wish I did not have to entrust so much information to you, just yet. It is a difficult burden to bear but I have faith in Lady Magic and in your savvy, Harry. You will do your best with what you have and you will study on your own, until you may learn more from us, yes?"

Harry nodded unfalteringly. “Yes, Madam Medallion.”

Too soon, as far as Harry was concerned, Harry was back at the Dursleys. He traveled by cab with his bag over his shoulder and a couple of shopping bags in hand. The rest would be brought over later, once he showed Argo his room. Since Harry had called ahead, only Aunt Petunia was waiting for him. He didn't know where the other two Dursleys were.

"How did it go?,” Aunt Petunia asked cautiously.

"It went well. There were a couple of revelations that confirm your suspicions about Dumbledore." At this, Petunia nodded. "I got all my supplies, including an owl and a snake." Petunia's eyes widened in alarm. "I will keep them in my room and I have already taken steps to minimize any post that should want to arrive by owl." His aunt's shoulders relaxed. "There is some paperwork you need to sign. I have a business card with the name of the muggle, I mean, regular bank they'd like for you to contact. They'll liaise with Gringotts on your behalf and keep you as far from magical concerns as they can. They'd like to see you soon, even as early as tomorrow. I was told their timing is flexible." Harry handed her the very muggle-looking business card and he cleared his throat. "I was asked to tell you that if you cannot make it to them, they are happy to visit you here." Petunia's eyes narrowed.

"Was that a threat?"

Harry looked down and shook his head. "They are just eager. The sooner the matter is formalized, they said, the less likely it is for Dumbledore to challenge the guardianship."

Petunia shook her head as she said, "So, he does want you, soul and all."

"They believe he was seeking to take advantage of me entering the castle without magical guardianship, which would’ve automatically passed to the headmaster."

"And who is this "they" you are referring to?"

"A combination of the Gringotts account manager and my anonymous, magical guardian. They said that they will provide more answers at the meeting… with the bank." Harry gestured subtly towards the business card he’d given his aunt.

"Am I required to take you with me?" Petunia gritted out.

"No,” Harry offered simply.

"Very well. Please go to your room. I need time to myself before Vernon returns with Dudley. Tomorrow morning, we'll begin again. I'd like to see you in the kitchen by 6 so that we can prepare breakfast together."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Harry made his way up to his new room. It wasn't much but it was more welcoming than Harry had expected. Harry felt a wave of magic and he nearly yelped when Argo became visible. There was no pop. So, Harry assumed he'd been by his side for a while, if not all along. "Hi, Argo. I take it you heard that." Argo nodded.

"I don't like how she treats you," Argo said plainly. Then, after a pause, they added, "I saw the cupboard." Harry cringed.

"This room is an improvement. If it’s alright, I’d prefer to focus on this room?"

"I understand, young one. Would you like for me to bring over your other things and help you get this room fit for a life well lived?"

"Maybe we should wait until tomorrow? The noise is sure to bother Aunt Petunia."

"No matter, young one. I've already put up silencing charms and in case you don't already know, the presence of a house elf at this residence has been filed with the Ministry for Magic. So, we need not worry about you getting into trouble for the magic I use. Still, I recommend that you not attempt any magic with your wand until further arrangements can be made. If you are being watched too closely, there might be ways of discerning the types of magic being cast, since this is an area with so few magical beings."

"But what about the magic I've been using?” Harry asked, clearly perplexed.

Argo hummed thoughtfully. "Normally, I would say that it was registered as ‘accidental magic’, having been performed by a person not yet actively studying at Hogwarts. From your tone, however, I gather that you perform deliberate magic," Argo paused, an assessing look on their face, and hummed. "Deliberate magic, regularly? Well, that is exciting, isn't it? Medallion did say I might find you interesting. You should know, young one, that I will not reveal your secrets to the Goblin Nation as a whole. I prioritize your needs and if I feel I must speak about you to a higher authority, I will consult with Madam Medallion first. You are a ward of the Goblin Nation and that is not to be taken lightly. But you are allowed to be yourself first, and I will not infringe upon that right. Do you understand?"

"I understand. Thanks, Argo. So… where does that leave us with my regular magic?"

"If you had gotten your wand from Ollivander’s, I would say "no" because those come with a magical trace. From Kylene, there should be no issue. But, again, if you are being watched too closely… Here's what I suggest: we wait until your aunt has formalized her side of things. That way, if there is any issue, we are in a stronger position to protect you. What do you think, young one?"

"It sounds good to me," Harry hesitated, "but it will be strange. I use it so often, I'll have to watch myself carefully. If I need to do it, how do I make it look more like ‘accidental magic’?"

Argo smiled rebelliously, "That's easy, young one. Be emotional." Harry laughed.

Harry and Argo spent the next couple of hours getting the room sorted. Argo was insistent about a couple of things, like creating two holes in the wall for his new owl and snake. The nooks had to be close to one another, as the two were very attached. Harry held firm on Argo having their own space too and after much back and forth, Argo compromised with their own table and chair in a corner of the room. He sought Argo's counsel for naming his new companions and the result was: Midha for his owl and Howell for his snake. The two accepted the names without commentary, more focused on settling into their new space, however temporary it may be. Midha and Howell were fully aware that they'd soon be off to Hogwarts. Their only concern was that their new accomodations be equally pleasing. Harry gave Argo a beseeching look and Argo agreed to find a way to set them up properly.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor, there was a different type of settlement underway. The family, which included Severus Snape, elite Potions Master and disgruntled Hogwarts’ Potions Professor, was seated around one end of a rather large table. It wasn't the largest table in the manor but it was still more than the four of them required. Narcissa had deliberately postponed the discussion of hers and Draco’s outing; wanting her husband and friend to feel like everything was perfectly normal before setting upon her task. So, she suggested they wait until dinner when Draco would be less distractible. He was, after all, engrossed in reviewing his purchases. Then, at dinner, Narcissa allowed everyone to enjoy most of their meal before finally, she felt ready to begin.

"Lucius, my love, now would be a good time to discuss mine and Draco's outing." Lucius looked up from his last bite, a shiver of unease running down his spine. He could not pinpoint what but something about his wife’s tone set off his internal warning bells.

"Of course, dear. Draco, son, how was your day?" Lucius asked and Draco's eyes lit up. He enthusiastically started the tale of his big day, from the very beginning. Narcissa smiled encouragingly, nodding along here and there, interjecting small amounts of information. Lucius started to doubt his intuition. Assuming the description of the day would continue to be relatively mundane, he tried to shift to other topics. Then, Draco said what Narcissa had been waiting for since their return.

"And we met Harry Potter!" Draco exclaimed. To Narcissa's absolute satisfaction, Severus choked on his bite of chocolate cake and Lucius nearly spit out his bourbon. Lucius turned to Narcissa, alarm written on his face.

"Oh, yes, we did. Tell them about it, Draco," Narcissa said supportively. Lucius narrowed his eyes in warning and Narcissa pursed her lips in a sarcastic kiss. Severus stopped eating, pushed away his plate, and listened carefully, observing all.

Draco proceeded to discuss Harry's taste ("He isn't impressed with Madam Malkin's selection either, father!”), the steak pasties ("surprisingly filling"), their decision to go to Kylene's for a wand ("Harry didn't like the feel of Ollivander's shop, Father! We had to take him to Kylene's!”), their adventures on Cottonwood Lane ("Have you ever had shaved ice, Father? Uncle Severus?”), and finally, their decision to keep in touch via private, linked journals. Narcissa was very impressed by her son's omittance of Harry's unseen protector and parseltongue ability. She thought it said a lot about how attached Draco already was to Harry, to watch what he said even to his father and Severus.

"That sounds like quite the day, son. How about you go to the sitting room and enjoy some time by the fire? I'll send along your dessert," Lucius said as pleasantly as he could manage, given the knots forming in his back.

"Really, Father?!" Draco asked excitedly.

"Of course, you go on ahead. We'll join you soon enough," Lucius reassured and Draco beamed, leaving the table quickly. He did enjoy eating by the fire. "Narcissa, explain."

"No, I am the one seeking explanations right now." Then, Narcissa turned her gaze to Severus. "Be a dear, Severus, and put up your best privacy wards." Severus took a fortifying breath and did as she requested.

"Narcissa, what is the meaning of all this?" Lucius demanded and Narcissa put up a hand, her eyes never leaving the potions master.

"Severus, I am trying to find the patience. I tried all day, in fact, but I find myself so utterly enraged that I can't harness the ability to disconnect you from the feeling. I do hope you have a wonderful explanation. If you do not, I swear to Lady Magic that I will make your punishment lasting,” Narcissa said icily. Severus’ upper lip twitched.

"I do not know what you are accusing me of, Narcissa, but I do not appreciate the threat," Severus said.

"The promise, Severus. Do assess my actions with accuracy,” Narcissa said, glaring right back. Lucius made to stand from his chair but Narcissa stopped him with a quick, "Don't, Lucius."

"I simply do not understand what is happening and it sets me on edge, Narcissa. Could you please explain the point of this? What on Earth compelled you to spend time with Harry-bloody-Potter? And on Diagon Alley, no less! Knockturn! It will be all over The Daily Prophet tomorrow. I'm surprised there wasn't a special edition tonight," Lucius said anxiously.

"Since you are understandably shocked, I will overlook the insult to my intelligence, husband," Narcissa said coolly. Lucius instantly focused, his wife's tone demanding he calm down. "Now, listen carefully. We were not aware of Harry's surname until we were already at Kylene's." Lucius huffed and Severus raised an eyebrow. "Draco was in rare form, unexpectedly casual. I do not know if he was simply distracted by the prospect of a wand - as you know, he's looked forward to having his very own since he was a babe - or if, perhaps, Harry's presence soothed him.

“I was not there when they met." Lucius looked like he wanted to ask where she was but he understood an interruption would be unwelcome. "At that time, your son introduced himself as Draco, with no surname to follow. Harry did the same. Draco and then I mistook him for a muggleborn. He was very clearly new to this world, in dress, manners, and knowledge. That is something we can discuss further later. Right now, I want to discuss something far more important. Do either of you notice a key absence from Draco's story? From mine?"

After a moment, Severus spoke, "He was alone?" Narcissa's smile was almost feral. "The so-called hero of the wizarding world was shopping on Diagon Alley, during one of the busiest times of the year, alone?" Narcissa nodded curtly and turned to her husband, who looked even more stunned than before.

"I don't understand," Lucius said. "Surely…" He stopped himself. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I,” Narcissa said, looking at Severus. "You said Dumbledore secreted him away to some unknown location."

"That's what I was told, yes," Severus said, with a shocked neutrality.

"Did you confirm?" Narcissa asked.

"Pardon?" Severus asked bemusedly.

"Did you confirm this piece of information?" Narcissa pressed.

"What was there to confirm, Narcissa?” Snape asked irritatedly.

"Severus, you disappoint me. Has your fury at the boy's father blinded you to the reality of the situation? Does the child deserve your punishment because your beloved friend died?" Severus sneered. "He is living in the muggle world. He mentioned an aunt." Severus's eyes widened. "James Potter was an only child. His mother?"

"Petunia," Severus exhaled.

"Yes, and you are not a stranger to the muggle world. Tell me, if you were to search for the location of this muggle sister, how easy would it be to find her?"

"It would depend..."

"Enough!” Lucius shouted. "Do not blame Severus, Narcissa, that is uncalled for, even if the boy has had an unpleasant upbringing, what could Severus have done?" Narcissa's eyes didn't leave Severus' as she continued speaking.

"Put the fear of the Goddess into her, with a well-placed sneer and an even better-placed head of a goat?" Narcissa suggested. Severus stood suddenly and started pacing.

"I never would have imagined Dumbledore would place him with Petunia," Severus said. "Even he could not be so careless." Narcissa met his gaze and pointedly rolled her eyes. Fortunately, Draco was nowhere nearby to see her do so.

"Whatever his plans may have been, I sincerely doubt they are working in his favor," Narcissa said confidently. Both men turned calculating eyes on her. "That boy has the soul of a Slytherin and he's secured himself a magical guardian that is most assuredly not Albus Dumbledore." Narcissa shared more of her observations with them, including her interactions with Madam Medallion. Then, she reached a point in the conversation that required a more explicit call for secrecy.

"Most of what I have told you should not be shared carelessly," Narcissa said, eyeing both men, with more focus on Severus, "but what I say next is especially secret. You may not have to feign ignorance for long but should that day come, I suggest you think of another way you might have acquired the knowledge." Both men nodded resignedly. "Mr. Potter is a parselmouth and whoever his magical guardian is, they saw fit to send a hidden house elf as his guard and allow his return to the muggles." The conversation instantly took on another dimension of seriousness.

Chapter Text

Harry was doing his best to read through his school books. He found them interesting but it was hard to focus solely on the “required books” when he had to come to grips with the magical world as well.. Harry had picked up extra books but his purchases had been driven by curiosity, not necessity. He was contemplating another trip into Diagon Alley because surely, there had to be some "for dummies” books, right? When he said as much to Argo, they assured him they would find him some supplementary reading and collect a few mail-order catalogs.

Argo had an odd reaction to Harry's familiarity with household activities such as cleaning, cooking, and gardening. Harry explained that though many children were encouraged to do chores around the house, his, up until very recently, had been more like penance for daring to exist in the Dursley home. Harry didn't want to be so explicit but he didn't think lying would accomplish anything. Argo looked like they were managing more potent feelings and Harry felt pretty certain this information would be passed along.

Harry gave Argo a pointed look and asked, "Are we good?"

Argo considered this and nodded. Excellent, Harry thought, because he was not interested in talking about feelings.

Harry spent time with Midha and Howell too. He didn’t find them sneaky at all. Of course, he could understand them. From their stories, Harry gathered that the familiar-shop worker’s definition of and tolerance for mischief was very limited. Midha and Howell were simply creative problem solvers and determined to be near each other. He was pleased they were already such close friends. That would make them lower maintenance, as far as he was concerned. He wasn't used to being responsible for any living creatures. So, the less they needed him, the happier everyone would be.

Howell warned Harry that most owls could not communicate with their humans directly. So, he needed to keep that secret. Just add it to the list, Harry thought. Neither Howell nor Midha seemed inclined to elaborate and Harry chose not to pry. Harry was used to accepting that some things just were; so, it made little difference to him. Harry noticed Argo pay closer attention to his interactions with Midha. There seemed to be a touch of surprise in Argo’s eyes but when they said nothing, Harry felt validated in his decision to just accept it and move on.

The linked journals Harry shared with Draco were working out well. He would write to Draco at least twice a day. In the mornings, Midha would groom his hair as he replied to Draco, and in the evenings, Howell would lie across his shoulders as he told Draco about his day. Draco was oddly fascinated that Harry would take such an active role in the running of the household. It soon became clear that Draco was used to a much larger house.

Draco described in great detail the importance of Quidditch and how unfair it was to not allow first-years on the team. Harry, having never seen a game, had no opinion. He had seen some brooms in a display window but he hadn't realized they were for a sport. Thinking it was mostly a form of transportation, he overlooked them. He couldn't, after all, be seen flying from the Dursleys to Diagon Alley. Draco told Harry that most wixes - a term Draco was trying out, to describe magical humans more inclusively, beyond “witches” and “wizards” - apparated, floo'd, or used portkeys. There was also, he said, something called the Knight Bus but he'd never been on it. Harry was intrigued by this publicly accessible option and asked Draco to find out more.

Harry also talked to Draco about the school books and what he knew about Hogwarts. Draco was trying hard to make Harry like Severus Snape. So, he imagined Snape was extra "Snapey" these days. He couldn't tell Draco, of course, but he remembered Snape. He was a friend of his mother's who felt responsible for her death. Harry wouldn't tell Snape too soon but he planned to eventually let him know that he didn't hold him responsible; not for his parents’ death or his orchestrated exile from the magical world. On the contrary, Harry blamed two, much more influential wizards, one more than the other, but two all the same: Albus Dumbledore and Mean Ol'Voldie.

Harry's time with Petunia wasn't horrible. She signed the necessary paperwork the very next day after his return from Gringotts and Argo assured him everything was as formalized as it could be. Medallion sent along a letter to that effect, through Argo, honoring the magical détente with the Dursleys. Petunia didn't question all the time Harry spent in his room and indeed, Harry assumed that to her, it wasn't much different. Vernon was the most put out by everything but he was shushed by Aunt Petunia and life went on. Surprisingly, Dudley seemed relaxed. It seemed like the previous tension had bothered him even more than Harry realized.

Soon, it was time to go to Hogwarts. Harry alerted Petunia beforehand and on the day, he made a show of leaving the house so that neighbors could see his exit. Midha was sent ahead because she wanted to fly and Howell coiled himself around his torso, under his hoodie. Argo shrunk Midha’s cage and glamored his trunk to look like two suitcases. So, all in all, Harry looked like a very muggle boy catching a cab. Petunia waved him off, more for show, he thought, and that was that. Life at Privet Drive was on pause and Harry was thankful.

At King's Cross Station, he found his way onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express and quickly chose a train compartment. Within the compartment, Argo reappeared to say "goodbye" and to remind him that his shrunken items would resize once he reached Hogsmeade. Then, the Hogwarts house elves would take them from there. He bid Argo farewell a little awkwardly. He was going to miss the elf and how they would communicate from now on was not yet decided. Harry was planning to talk to Madam Medallion about magical post boxes. Could he and Argo have linked boxes, like he and Draco had linked journals? Maybe then he could send Argo little treats. They were very fond of sweets, after all. He and Argo spent most of their time in companionable silence; so, linked journals were kinda pointless, especially if Argo found a way to enter the castle safely.

By the time Draco found him, Harry was in smarter-looking attire with Howell draped around his neck while he read. "That's a much nicer headscarf, Harry," Draco said approvingly.

"Thanks! I told you I had fancier ones. How are you?"

"I'm well but the platform is getting crazy. I'm glad I convinced my father to bring me earlier. I wanted a moment to talk to you before the others joined."

"Should I be worried?"

"No, of course not, it's just… Me and my friends… we may come across as cold and mean… Just, maybe you could check with us in private, before making any fixed decisions."

Harry smiled reassuringly, "You said as much in our books, remember?"

"I know but this is only the second time we've seen each other. My concerns are justified."

"They are. I apologize for making light of them."

"Also, I'm worried you aren't prepared for how people will respond to your surname. You can't hide it forever and the prospective Slytherins will feel slighted if you don't tell them on the train." Draco's voice was getting faster and even Howell was feeling the agitation.

Harry reached out a hand, placing it on Draco's shoulder, "Breathe, Draco. We'll make it work, yeah? You're right, I'm not prepared. There's no real way I could be, not with the way I grew up. But we'll adapt, yes?"

"Like Slytherins," Draco said.

"Like Slytherins," Harry echoed.

"Okay, now, how are you? Did you find your way alright?" Draco was calmer and Harry smiled, pulling back his hand. Then, he began to tell Draco about his journey.

Chapter Text

Harry and Draco were alone long enough for them both to be cozied up with books when the door was pulled open. "Draco! Thank the goddess you're already here. The platform is a madhouse. Look!" The girl waved her hand in the direction of the window as she floated her trunk onto the shelf. "I see only one trunk. Which one of you left your trunk on the platform? I won't go with you to get it, if it's you, Draco." Harry was looking out the window, eyeing a cluster of red-haired people who seemed to be unnerving those around them. "What's caught your eye, newbie?"

Harry turned back to look quizzically at the girl. She had short, black hair, in a very professional-looking bob. It was thick, shiny, and somehow, not at all plain-looking. Harry considered remarking on being addressed as “newbie” but decided to simply answer her, while Draco repositioned himself to get a better look out the window. "A group of redheads appears to be repelling the crowd."

"Weasleys," Draco and the girl said at the same time.

"Ugh," the girl threw herself onto the bench. "The matriarch is so loud! It's nerve-racking. She doesn't even have a good excuse." The girl gave him a “Can you believe it?” look. "She's not angry or unwell or part deaf. She just yells a lot. Anywhere. That woman cannot read a room or in this case, a crowd. If it were only sometimes, one might conclude she gets overly excited on occasion but it’s not that. She’s just loud all the time." The girl said the last three words with a kind of precision Harry found amusing.

"It's true. At a fundraising luncheon, Mother told me, Mrs. Weasley criticized the food so loudly that the caterer nearly walked out." Draco shook his head as if that was the height of uncouth behavior, which Harry figured it probably was, in his circles. Harry was more disappointed in the caterer for taking it so personally. Was the caterer doubting their work? Is that why they reacted so emotionally? Harry privately considered how he would have handled such a situation if he had felt so offended. He didn’t know, of course, but he wondered if walking up to the woman and taking her plate would have been a bolder move.

The girl laughed, "Mother was at that event too. I wonder if Mrs. Weasley would be a happier person if she were a chef. She is very proud of her cooking. To be that proud of it, she must have some skill. Don't you think? I mean, she's inelegant but she doesn't appear stupid. Perhaps she lacks fulfilling challenges in her life and she channels the excess energy into the volume of her voice. What do you think, Draco?"

"I think it's time to wrap the conversation up since you never know who might be passing by."

"Fine! Be sensible. The sooner I learn privacy spells, the better off we'll all be!" The girl took a deep breath and turned her gaze on Harry. "Newbie, I'm Pansy Parkinson and you are?" She reached out her hand and Harry shook it.

"Hello, Pansy. It's lovely to meet you." Pansy hummed and looked at Draco, who shook his head. The "Not now, Pansy" was communicated quite effectively. Before anyone else spoke, they were joined by two boys and a girl.

"That's six!" Pansy shouted. "The door is closing. See everyone later." When the door closed, one of the boys waved his wand at the door. "Theo, you show off! I want to learn whatever you did later."

"It sort of scrambles our voices. They'll hear sounds but it'll sound like unimportant chatter and we'll still hear them."

"Good enough," Pansy turned back to Harry, "Newbie, you're up. That's Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Daphne Greengrass. Say hello, everyone." The three additions to the train compartment said, "Hello, everyone." Pansy rolled her eyes and Harry snorted.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Harry Potter.” Four pairs of startled eyes looked toward Draco, who grinned.

"I did say I met someone interesting and that it was best that they introduce themselves," Draco said.

"My mind went to a foreign student," Blaise said.

"You see, I thought it was someone with a creature inheritance," Theo said.

"For fuck's sake, Nott, stop looking for creature inheritances. People are unlikely to reveal that detail anyway," Pansy said.

"It could happen, Pansy!" Theo defended. Pansy rolled her eyes.

Daphne had yet to speak and was eyeing Harry curiously. Everyone was looking at her, awaiting her input. Finally, she said, "I like your scarf. I get the sense it's charmed. Is it?" Draco groaned and Harry smiled brightly, as he began to talk about his scarf.

The group was happily chatting and the "non-newbies" were taking turns teaching Harry the rules of exploding snap, trading cards, and wizarding chess. When Harry asked about regular playing cards, he was regaled with stories about competitive, older wixes who were capable of cold-blooded murder over an intense card game. The moral was straightforward and consistent: stick to the kiddie games until you can hold your magic, temper, and tongue.

Harry also learned that Pansy was the reason for Draco’s attempts to use more inclusive terminology for magical people. Pansy believed very strongly that word choice influenced social beliefs and Harry could not help but agree. He liked that her group of friends was familiar with her thoughts but made no effort to rush her along. Harry didn’t think they were humoring Pansy either. These were kids who were curious and wanted to explore, and even challenge, their world. They would not discourage each other, he realized. Harry thought that if these were the prospective Slytherins, their respective house seemed even more promising.

Suddenly, someone yanked open the door, surprising everyone in the compartment. "Have you seen a toad?" a bushy-haired girl demanded.

"Excuse you. Did you even consider knocking?" Pansy asked sarcastically. The intruder rolled her eyes and looked to be gearing up for a passionate retort when another voice was heard.

"Hermione, they're right. Just let it go. I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Neville, you're upset and no one was helping you. It's ridiculous." At the sound of that name, Harry stood up, surprising the others.

"Did you say ‘Neville?’" Harry craned his head to see a hint of blond hair.

"Yes," the girl said defensively but Harry ignored her. Harry focused on the blond head.

"Are you Neville Longbottom?" At the sound of his name, the boy peeked into the compartment.

"Yes," Neville said.

"Wow. Come in, please. Guys, could you make room?" The others were too stunned to say anything. They simply complied, even Neville who had to push past Hermione to move inside.

"Is that a snake?!" the girl, Hermione, shouted.

"Ugh, you're still here?" Pansy said.

"Hermione, would you please calm down? It's obviously a snake," Neville said and turned back to Harry. "You seem familiar."

"Yeah, I think that makes sense. But let's get this toad thing sorted, first. What's your toad's name?"

"Uh, Trevor."

"Okay, I haven't tried this yet but I was practicing the wand movements. Accio Trevor." A toad came flying in and Harry handed Trevor to Neville.

"Thank you!" Neville said cheerfully.

"You're welcome. Now, Hermione, was it?" The girl nodded. "Would you please return to your compartment? I'd like a private word with Neville."

"I'm not leaving him here with you."

Harry looked at Neville, with a confused frown. Neville cleared his throat and spoke up. "Hermione, I'll be fine. It's okay." Hermione huffed, crossed her arms and maybe even stomped her foot. It was almost comical.

Then, Theo spoke up. "Ms. Granger, was it?" Hermione, again, rolled her eyes and nodded. "Maybe you could wait just outside. I'm sure it won't take long. Right?" He directed the question to Harry.

"I mean, I'd rather not rush it but sure, if it will please her highness, here." Harry narrowed his eyes as he answered but he stared right at Hermione.

Daphne interjected, "Indeed. She doesn't knock. She doesn't introduce herself yet feels entitled to make demands. Then, she insinuates that we are a threat to a fellow student. Who does she think she is?"

"That's it! I'm done!" Pansy stood up and faced Hermione. "Run along, now. Shoo!" Pansy gestured with two, flapping hands. Once Hermione backed up enough, Pansy closed the door with exaggerated slowness. "And I bet she'll still claim I slammed the door in her face. Some people are just rude!"

"And we would know!" Blaise said. Everyone laughed at that, including Neville, who seemed shocked by this action.

Harry then turned his attention to Neville. He was struck speechless and just stared into Neville's eyes. Harry felt something stirring within him, emotions and a hint of memory just out of reach. Then, he pulled off his scarf and ran a hand through his hair, revealing his scar. All the others, except Draco and Daphne, took in a breath. Finally, Neville shouted, "Harry!" and threw his arms around him. Harry, unable to stop himself, hugged him back.

"Brothers of the heart," Draco said to the others, by way of explanation. Harry had asked Draco if he knew Neville Longbottom. Draco didn’t have much to offer and was grateful to learn of Harry’s interest in the Longbottoms before any hint of ill opinions was shared. The Slytherins nodded in appreciation for the knowledge and continued observing the scene.

Daphne eventually cut the silence with a remark. "A streak of red hair. Now, that's interesting." Then, she reviewed her hair, as if considering whether a streak would suit her

Neville squeezed Harry's hand and said, "My grandmother tried to find you. But all the Ministry would tell her was that you were placed in a safe home. They wouldn't tell her with whom and they said you weren't allowed post! For a while, she wondered if you were dead after all." Neville's eyes grew shiny. "When she finally learned the Ministry had no record of where you'd gone, she researched further and discovered that one person had established the story…" Neville looked down at his lap, unwilling to say more.

"Who?" Blaise asked, unable to silence his curiosity.

Neville looked up at Harry with uncertainty and conflict visible in his eyes. Harry took pity on Neville and said, with perfect clarity, "Dumbledore." Harry smiled reassuringly at Neville and ignored the looks exchanged around him.

Harry had no intention of hiding his distrust for the headmaster. As far as he was concerned, there were a lot of reasons for an 11-year-old to distrust old men. Distrust didn’t automatically reveal secrets and as a prospective Slytherin himself, he saw no real value in pretending to admire Albus Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

The trip across the lake was serene. Harry especially liked the look of the castle lights reflecting on the water. He was in a boat with Draco, Daphne, and Pansy. Neville had rejoined Hermione, in an effort to soothe her. He thought she meant well but Harry wasn't so sure given her insistence on glaring in his direction instead of admiring the sights. Her loss, Harry thought. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall greeted them on the other side and as they waited to be sorted, Hermione pushed her way towards Harry. "I know you did something to Neville," she angrily whispered.

Harry looked in Hermione's direction as if she smelled foul and he was gratified to see her flinch. "I have no idea where you got that impression."

"Y-y-you're a Slytherin. I saw you with that snake!" Hermione shouted, drawing other people's attention. Harry chuckled and shrugged. Hermione, for some reason, thought his reaction meant she was onto something, and in the next moment, she screeched triumphantly, “Deputy Headmistress McGonagall!" The crowd began to murmur as the deputy headmistress made her way towards them. Hermione stood even straighter before speaking. "This boy…” she pointed, with unearned authority, “…has a snake! I saw it. He cannot deny it."

The deputy headmistress looked beyond her glasses, seemingly bored, and looked between the two students. Yet, she said nothing, and at that moment, Harry could have kissed her hand. Hermione looked at a loss and it was a beautiful sight. "Well," Hermione said with a stupidly disrespectful tone, "aren't you going to do anything about it?"

The group from Harry's train compartment snickered and Harry heard someone in the crowd saying, "Good luck to her if she ends up in Gryffindor." The matron must have heard that too because her lips twitched.

"And your name, young lady?" McGonagall asked.

"There she goes again, forgetting to identify herself," Daphne muttered.

"She'll learn," Harry heard Draco say and it seemed vaguely like a threat.

"Hermione Granger," the foolish girl said proudly.

"Well, Ms. Granger, if you had read the first chapter of Hogwarts: A History, you'd know that familiars are allowed within the castle wall." She then turned to Harry. "Is your snake a familiar, young man?"

"He is, Mistress McGonagall," Harry said and he thought he saw the matron suppress a smile. Hermione looked at Harry, with a truly affronted look on her face.

"He's just saying that because you guided him to say it. He's lying."

Mistress McGonagall stood taller and she looked down at Hermione as if she were a bug about to be squashed. Many of the nearby students stepped back. Harry was too busy trying not to laugh but Draco yanked him back a step. "Ms. Granger, you will have detention with me every night for the first two weeks of school and whichever house you are sorted into will begin with a deficit of 20 points." Hermione looked as if she were about to cry and Harry's internal laughter quieted. That had to hurt. "In all my years, I have never been spoken to with such disrespect, before classes even start no less. We'll have plenty of time to discuss this during detention. Now, I suggest you return your attention to the upcoming sorting."

———

The sorting was relatively boring. Harry was more interested in the Great Hall's ceiling. Most of his new acquaintances were already sorted and in Slytherin, as expected. Neville went into Gryffindor, which disappointed Harry. He hadn’t thought Neville would end up in Slytherin but if Hermione Granger was any indication of the kind of company he'd be keeping, Neville was off to a miserable start. Harry resolved to spend as much time with Neville as he could. Maybe they could exchange letters even though they were in the same building. It is a castle, after all; or perhaps he could negotiate with a Hogwarts house elf to be their go-between if needed. Would they be willing to keep secrets from the headmaster? Harry’s musings were interrupted when it was his turn to be sorted.

"Harry Potter!" Mistress McGonagall called out. Harry ignored the silenced hall and made his way to the stool. He promptly sat down, hoping to get away from everyone’s stares as soon as possible, and the hat was placed on his head. Almost immediately, Harry heard a deep voice in his mind.

"Ah, Mr. Potter-Evans. This is a lovely scarf,” the hat said before humming assessingly. “Yes, I will understand you if you, as you say, think at me.”

"Okay, thanks. Hi, Hat. Do you have a name?"

"Nicolas. But please don't spread that around. I like to hear what the students, new and old, make of me."

"Then, hello, Nicolas. Please, call me Harry. We both know I'm headed to Slytherin. So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Oh, I know, Harry, but isn't this more fun? Let them wonder, I say. They'll be astonished. Some will even feel betrayed. Hold tight to yourself and those you trust." Harry snorted. "You trust, in your way, and it will no doubt grow."

"If you say so, Nicolas."

"Be careful, Harry. You already know the headmaster is not to be trusted, at least not implicitly, if at all. He's changeable. Continue to trust yourself and if need be, you may call upon my assistance. These conversations are private and there's a house elf in the kitchens named Cerulean. We affectionately call her Ru. She could bring me to you."

"Where are the kitchens?"

"Patience, young one, you'll find them soon. But be careful."

"I will," Harry said determinedly. Nicolas chuckled before declaring his verdict.

"Slytherin!"

The whole Slytherin table cheered, to Harry's surprise. He guessed Draco and the others had already spread the word; and that Slytherin solidarity was in effect. The other three tables offered a smattering of applause before the next name was called.

Blaise Zabini eventually joined the table and soon after, it was time for a lame speech, in Harry's opinion. The food, however, was delicious. Harry was aware of eyes on him from other tables but the Slytherins were exceedingly self-possessed. Aside from a few glances, they were disinclined to indulge their curiosity in public. He liked that about them.

When the students were making their way out of the hall, following the prefects down to the dungeon, Harry heard a shout. "Oi, Potter!" Harry tensed and turned slowly towards the disruption. "I heard you cost Gryffindor house points already." Hermione stood next to the accusatory, red-headed boy. Harry threw her an unimpressed look but verbally, communicated nothing. "Oi, I'm talking to you." The ill-tempered boy stepped closer and Harry held his ground. "What? Got nothing to say?" Again, Harry said nothing. The redhead seemed even more incensed and with his long arms, he shoved Harry. A malicious smile spread across Harry’s face but still, he said nothing.

"Ron, that's enough," Hermione looked between Ron and Harry. Then, in a stage whisper, she said, "They're Slytherins. What do you expect?"

"Oh, that's it," Pansy said in a low voice. Harry just knew she had plenty to say but he doubted that approach would help the situation. On instinct, he held up a hand and was surprised when she took the cue well.

"Listen, Muggleborn," Harry said, with as little inflection as he could manage. Hermione flinched. "If someone told you ALL Canadians are kind, would you believe them?"

"Of course not! That's just…" Hermione said but quickly cut herself off.

"Exactly. So, maybe take some time to make some observations of your own before spouting hateful rhetoric, yeah?"

Ron didn't seem to take kindly to the calming environment. "You're the one that called her a mudblood!" Ron shouted and the watchful students gasped and tutted. Ron looked around, suddenly doubting himself.

"That's 50 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasely. We will not abide such language here," Professor Snape said.

"But, he said…" Ron pointed at Harry.

Mistress McGonagall joined them, effectively interrupting Ron. "Do you want to make it another 20, Mr. Weasley?”

"Now, now, Minerva, I'm sure the boy meant no offense by it. Severus, perhaps Mr. Potter did say-" The headmaster had decided to intervene but his deputy wasn’t at all impressed.

"Shall we go up to your office and see the memory in your pensieve, Albus?" McGonagall interrupted

"That will not be necessary, Minerva. I'm sure the Gryffindors will find plenty of creative ways to earn back the points that were taken,” the headmaster said sagely and Snape sneered.

"Lost, Albus. No one removed points without cause," McGonagall said and Dumbledore waved her off as if to say she was being pedantic about the word choice.

———

When the Slytherins were finally allowed to head to their section of the castle, there was a lot of grumbling. One tall boy said, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Same shit, different year."

"They're off to an earlier start, though, don't you think?"

"Look on the bright side," a very petite girl said. "Gryffindor is in the negative."

"Spare me your optimism, Hollis. Dumbledore will have them out of that hole by the end of the month, if not the end of the fortnight." The girl frowned and looked down at her shoes. Another girl wrapped her arm around Hollis and glared at the offender.

Another guy said, "For fuck's sake, Marcus, you know Hollis is working at being less gloomy. Cut her some slack."

"Sorry, Hollis," Marcus groaned. Hollis bobbed her head but didn't look up.

"Look, Hollis, we've got Potter!" Hollis looked up, eyes alight.

"We do!" She marched up to Harry and extended her hand. "Hello, my name is Hollis Mercy. I look small but I'm a third-year." Harry shook her hand.

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter. I'm a first-year." Hollis laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Welcome, come in, sit by the fire. The first-years have to wait for Professor Snape to come in and give his "We Are United" speech. It's kind of adorable." Someone in the room snorted. Then, she leaned in and mock-whispered, "Don't let our head of house fool you. He's got a big heart and he protects his own. And if he can't, he usually has a damn good reason why. For everything else, he'll likely kick himself better than anyone else ever could." There weren't any snorts after that, the room was either in agreement or had already tuned her out, which Harry doubted.

In time, Snape did come in and give an inspiring speech that focused on remaining united. Harry wouldn't call it adorable but he did feel validated in his opinion of Snape and Slytherin House. When their head of house was done, Snape called Harry over and Draco tagged along. "I didn't call you, Mr. Malfoy."

"That's okay, he can stay. He's like my self-appointed guide to the magical word." Harry bumped Draco's shoulder with his own.

"Be that as it may, this message is for Mr. Potter's ears only. Please wait over by the fire, if you are inclined to accompany Mr. Potter to your dorms." Draco narrowed his eyes at Snape and looked at Harry.

"It's alright, Dray, I'll just tell you after, yeah? Will you wait, though?" Draco nodded and walked away. Harry then turned to Snape, "You were saying, Professor Snape?"

"Oh, I'm allowed to resume now, am I?" Harry just stared back with a carefully neutral expression. "The Headmaster wishes to speak with you during breakfast tomorrow, in his office," Harry said nothing and Snape quirked an eyebrow.

"I apologize, sir, I thought there might be more, seeing as I have no idea where his office is and I don't know how I'd manage to eat breakfast, meet with him, and make it to classes on time. I thought there'd at least be tips."

"There are no ‘tips’ as you say. He'll likely arrange for a note to be delivered to you at breakfast with the password to his office. Then, he'll expect you to find your way to his office."

"Ah, and how do I say ‘no’? Can I just not show up? Should I send a letter to him tonight? I could write one now if you would pass it to him?"

"I am not your delivery owl, Mr. Potter. In answer to your question, a student cannot say ‘no’ to the headmaster. If he insists on seeing you, you will have to meet with him." Then, to his own disgruntlement, Snape added one word. "Eventually,’’ he said and Harry smiled.

Chapter Text

Harry sent a note, via Midha, declining the headmaster's invitation to meet. Within the note, he communicated that he’d like to focus on getting acquainted with the castle, his classes, and fellow students. He kept it polite, simplistic, and without any hint of awareness that the declination might be received badly. Harry thought this would be an excellent way to gauge the headmaster’s temperament but it was not the main reason for postponing their meeting. He simply had no desire to be singled out further from his fellow students. There was enough attention on him already. Harry didn’t want to look like the headmaster’s pet or worse, in cahoots with the man. It’s not like the headmaster was inviting every student to a private tea.

Throughout breakfast, Harry thought he could feel the headmaster's eyes on him. So far, only Draco knew that Dumbledore wanted to meet with him and he was careful enough to not glance at the head table either. If the other Slytherins suspected they seemed on edge, none of them mentioned anything or even looked curious. These were exactly the kind of people Harry could appreciate.

He had asked Midha to deliver the letter to the head table in the Great Hall, just in front of the headmaster’s seat. She understood his intention and decided to deliver the note just as breakfast was starting. Dumbledore would have the opportunity to read the letter before even starting his meal. Harry figured that conveyed consideration for the man’s time. The sooner he knew Harry wasn’t available, the sooner the headmaster could rearrange his day. Maybe he might even think twice about approaching Harry. After all, what would be so urgent that it could not wait until, at least, after breakfast? Harry and Midha had guessed correctly that Dumbledore would not arrive early. So, Harry was spared the need to walk past the head table with the headmaster already seated.

However, Dumbledore’s entrance could not be missed. His robes were even more eye-catching than the day before and the students in the hall reacted. Harry sensed the shift in the air but none from the Slytherin table turned to look. They took their cues from the ones that could easily see and felt informed enough with the short explanation and infinitesimal head shakes. There was nothing worth a public reaction. Internally, Harry grinned. He’d most definitely ended up in the right house for him.

———

"Severus, my boy," Dumbledore looked in Snape's direction. "You did tell Mr. Potter that I wanted to meet with him, correct?"

"I did," Snape continued eating.

"He seems to have misinterpreted your meaning. He's sent me a letter turning down my invitation," Dumbledore said, holding up the letter with an air of disbelief.

"Albus, if I had total control over how students interpreted my words, I'd breathe more steadily during potions lessons," Snape said and there were some chuckles from his colleagues.

"What is this about, Albus? I already told you that Mr. Potter did not use that word," McGonagall interjected.

"I merely wanted to see how he was getting on," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, he hasn't even had one full day in the castle. What is there to discuss?” Professor Sprout added cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Dumbledore's mood.

"Let me see this letter you are waving about," McGonagall read the letter and placed it on the table, far enough forward for others to sneak peeks. "He wants to focus on settling in, Albus. Leave the boy be."

"I knew his parents…" Dumbledore started and this time, it was Professor Flitwick who put in his two knuts.

"We all knew his parents, Albus. There will be time for us all to get to know him better. I can understand your impatience but let's not call even more attention to the boy." Flitwick's reasoning was sound but Snape could not afford to be silent.

"He calls enough attention to himself with those headscarves. I won't allow him to wear them in my class. The last thing I need is for his scarf to catch fire and cause panic in my classroom."

"You know, Severus," McGonagall said, "if it were shorter, it would be an excellent way to prevent errant hairs from landing in the simmering potions." Snape tipped his head to the side, considering. Then, Harry looked up from his seat to meet his gaze and Snape sneered. With a too-blank face, Harry returned to his discussion with Blaise.

"Severus does have a point, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "He draws too much attention to himself. Just look at the snake." At this, the entire table turned to stare at the headmaster. "I'm not referring to the boy. Look, there, don't you see the snake poking out of his robes."

Professor Quirrell, to everyone's astonishment, spoke up, "I - think --- if we have to l-- look -- t--that hard, he's not -- d-drawing attention."

"Well said, Quirinus!” Hagrid shouted and a good portion of the hall turned to look at the head table.

———

For the most part, Harry was enjoying his classes. He thought the teachings would be more efficient with smaller class sizes or at least, a professor’s assistant. With over forty students in each class, it was inevitable that some students would have to wait for others to catch up. Harry could only hope that this would change once assignments built up. Maybe then, he could “get ahead” during the lulls since chatting casually with your partner was discouraged.

Each class was shared with another house, which would be perfectly fine were it not for the idiots who felt “rivalry” was a necessary component of their education. The joint Gryffindor classes offered particular unpleasantness. Harry felt he had to devote brain power to both be aware of and ignore people like Ronald Weasley, also known to the first-year Slytherins as “Weasel”. Sometimes, he even played referee because Ron had quickly learned that some Slytherins were more susceptible to provocation. Pansy in particular was “on the verge of cutting a bitch”.

Ron seemed on special assignment to cause trouble for the Slytherins. He was convinced that Slytherins were to blame for Gryffindor’s poor start to the year. He made a nuisance of himself often, even during class. What Ron failed to appreciate was that it was McGonagall and Snape who originally docked the points, two of the three professors who led their joint classes. So, he wasn’t as successful as he aimed to be. It seemed to confuse Ron further when Neville would talk to Harry.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors shared a double Transfiguration class on Friday mornings. The day before, they’d shared a double Potions class. So, Harry was feeling the temptation of breathing life into Pansy’s “cutting a bitch” fantasy. He did carry a knife, after all. In their second transfiguration class, Ron and Hermione seemed to team up to distract the class. They were loud and obnoxious. Harry’s best guess was that they were trying to keep Harry from doing well, seeing as they chose to sit right in front of him. It’s possible they would have settled for annoying him to the point of engagement. Either way, all they succeeded in doing was annoying their head of house, who docked them 10 points each.

Just as he and Draco were entering the Great Hall for lunch that same day, Ron shouted, “Potter! You’re not gonna get away with making Gryffindor look bad. Because of you, the whole house is mad at me and Hermione.” Harry said nothing and kept walking. “I’m talking to you,” Ron yelled, following behind him. Then, there was a shove and Harry stumbled forward a couple of steps. The Great Hall wasn’t even half full but the silence made it seem as if the whole school were holding its breath. Harry turned around to face Ron.

”You know, Weasel,” Harry began, voice unnervingly calm, “the first time you shoved me, I allowed myself to get distracted. The first day in a new school, I wanted to get settled. You were unimportant. I put you on the back burner, as they say. This time, you’re calling so much attention to this,” Harry gestured to the space between them, “I’m going to have to address it, lest it snowball into something I don’t have time for. Do not misunderstand me, you’re still painfully irrelevant. But since you insist, I’ll make some time and decide how to deal with you. There, do you feel acknowledged enough? Or do you need a treat of some kind?” Harry turned to Draco and then, to the rest of his Slytherin year mates, who had since joined them. His gaze firmly communicated sarcastic questioning.

”Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” Pansy drawled. “If you give him a treat, he’ll just keep coming back.”

”Or you’d be reinforcing bad behavior,” Theo added.

”Exactly. If that’s going to be your approach, give him treats on the days he leaves you alone,” Daphne said.

They began to walk away and Ron, finding his words, shouted, “You need your snakes to defend you, is that it?! You’re too scared to fight me on your own?!”

”Oh, dear, is he under the impression this is a fight?” Blaise asked rhetorically. “What a sheltered life he must lead.”

”Quite. He ought to feel more grateful,” Draco said. They just kept walking away. Ron tried again to engage them but when the Slytherins kept walking, many students lost interest. Sensing weakness, some students threw owl treats in Ron’s direction, laughingly telling him to “sit down”. It wasn’t Harry’s payback but it would mess with Ron and that would have to be enough for now.

———

Harry successfully avoided a meeting with Dumbledore for a whole week. On Tuesday, his time was up. After Potions class, Harry was asked to stay behind. Draco and the others offered to wait but Snape waved them off, saying Harry had another meeting after this one. The Slytherins looked surprised but nodded in acceptance before heading for their next class, History of Magic. Harry assumed Dumbledore was trying to instill some gratitude in him; a meeting with the headmaster would get him out of the boring class. It wouldn’t work. Nothing would work.

Once they were alone, Snape said, “The headmaster insists on seeing you. You’ll be excused from your next class. So, there’s no need to worry about the absence counting against you. I gather you are not interested in meeting with him. So, what can we do to make it more comfortable?”

”What are my options?” Harry asked.

”You could meet with him alone or you may be joined by one or more professors. You may insist on having your guardian present. In some cases, an advocate or a lawyer would be more appropriate. Regardless of what you choose, you can request that the meeting be recorded, in one way or another. If it is recorded, do not leave the room without your copy, ideally verified by those present.”

”Are you amenable to being one of the professors who joins us?”

”As your head of house, it would seem suspicious, even if only to your fellow Slytherins if I were not in the room. As for the second, I’d recommend another Head of House.”

”Very well, do you think Professor Flitwick could join us?”

Snape seemed intrigued by his choice but didn’t question it. “Wait here and I will check.” Harry waited patiently, as Snape went to the fireplace. He looked around and listened to Howell’s commentary about the smells. According to Howell, there was a rat nearby and an herb that was close to rotting. Of course, Harry could not reply but he gently stroked Howell’s back. When Snape returned, he said the other professor would meet them there.

The long way to the headmaster’s office was a quiet one. Harry took the time to look more carefully at the portraits. He couldn’t get used to how vivid they were. It was like being watched all the time. If he weren’t concerned that they’d share his conversations with others, like the headmaster, he might take the time to engage with one.

Professor Flitwick was already there when they arrived. Snape spoke the password, “Lemon sherbet,” and the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a long staircase. Harry suppressed an eye roll. What a production, he thought.

Once in the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore tried to get the professors to leave. No one was impressed by this, not even the portraits. “Could we please move this along? I do have potions to brew.”

”All the more reason for you to leave us to our little chat, Severus.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, I have made it clear that I do not wish to meet with you alone. If that is unacceptable, I request that you stop seeking meetings with me and simply write to my magical guardian, care of Gringotts.”

”About that, my boy,” Dumbledore began.

”Please do not call me that. It’s Harry or Mr. Potter if you please.”

For a brief moment, Dumbledore looked angry. Then, his sparkling eyes were back on track. “As I was saying, I don’t believe we have the name of your magical guardian in our records. Could you please provide their name so I may contact them?”

”You may write to them, care of Gringotts. I cannot provide you with a name but they’ll receive the letter if you address it to Mr. Harry Potter’s Guardian.”

”I must insist you give me an actual name, Mr. Potter.”

”I cannot, as I said,” Harry said firmly.

“I will give you a week of detention if you do not give me a name right now.” Dumbledore’s voice was commanding and not entirely natural.

”Albus!” Professor Flitwick shouted. “That is entirely uncalled for.” Dumbledore’s gaze shot to Flitwick, startled. Harry thought maybe Dumbledore had forgotten he was there. “Now, I think this is a problem of word choice.” He then turned to Harry and asked, “Mr. Potter, could you please explain why you cannot say the name of your magical guardian?”

Harry smiled shyly and said, “Well, Professor Flitwick, they’ve chosen to remain anonymous, for both their protection and mine.”

”That is most inappropriate,” Dumbledore said. “How do we know this so-called guardian doesn’t have nefarious intentions?” Harry chose to treat that as a rhetorical question and said nothing. ”Mr. Potter, I am extremely concerned with your behavior since you have entered this school. You have a pet that is not on the accepted list and you are fighting regularly with people from other houses. I think it’s likely that your magical guardian is influencing you in unorthodox ways.” Harry still said nothing. “Mr. Potter, do you understand what I am saying?”

”Yes.”

”Do you have nothing to say in your defense?”

”The only things I can think to say are either inappropriate or not worth saying. So, I thought it was best to remain silent.”

“I find your manner very unbecoming of a Gr-“ Dumbledore cut himself off and then resumed as if everyone in the room didn’t know what he was about to say, “…student of Hogwarts. If you continue on this path, I think expulsion is at the end of it.” Harry said nothing. “I am assigning you a week’s detention with Professor Snape.” Still, Harry said nothing and neither did the two professors joining him. “I expect you to use this time to consider how you will conduct yourself in the future. I will be writing to your guardian and should I find anything amiss, I will be turning this matter over to the Ministry for Magic. It is my duty to be a guiding hand for Hogwarts students.” The room was silent.

After a moment, Snape said, “Come along, Potter, you can begin your detention tonight. I have several cauldrons for you to clean.”

”Yes, Professor.” Just as they were about to leave the office, Harry said, “Oh, Professors, I forgot to request that this meeting be recorded. Professor Flitwick, would you please send the memory to my guardian? I’m sure they’ll return it to you when they’re done. That’s a thing, right?”

”Of course, Mr. Potter, Professor Snape could verify a copy…” They continued on their way, denying Dumbledore a say in the matter. He was angry at himself for losing control and not having a legitimate reason for keeping Severus behind. Dumbledore was mildly concerned about a copy of the meeting being shared with the boy’s guardian but he could not imagine an unquellable consequence. What he needed now was more information about the boy’s guardian. Any detail could be useful and he wanted Snape to use the detention to this advantage.

Chapter Text

The next day, Filius Flitwick visited Severus Snape’s office to discuss Mr. Potter’s assigned detention and related matters. After Snape shared that he had Harry working on his school assignments during detention and planned to continue that way, Flitwick revealed how deeply he was affected by the meeting. He found he didn’t trust sending his verified copy of his memory via owl post or even meeting with Dumbledore alone until the proof was secured. The feeling unnerved Flitwick. He could not recall ever having been so suspicious of the headmaster.

“The way he infused his voice with magic, Severus. How would he have treated the boy if we had not been there? Why is Albus so focused on the boy?” Snape did not respond and Flitwick, thankfully, was not seeking an actual answer. “He will make every attempt to challenge Mr. Potter’s guardianship, I think,” Flitwick said. “Do you think the headmaster has a chance at disrupting Mr. Potter’s placement?”

Severus turned assessing eyes on Flitwick. He could see how uncomfortable it made the Charms Professor to question Dumbledore. Unfortunately, even with all his mixed experiences with the man, Snape found the personal conflict relatable. “No, I do not. Gringotts is thorough and would never stand between the Ministry for Magic and someone untrustworthy. Whomever the guardian is, I believe they must be above reproach as the bank’s standards exceed the Ministry’s.”

”Pity Albus doesn’t see it that way,” Flitwick said.

”Yes, well, he does tend to think his way is best and for a long time, he’s been used to the masses agreeing with him.”

”Too long, perhaps,” Flitwick said quietly but they both knew Snape heard him just fine.

———

Flying lessons had been delayed a week for first-years, for some reason to do with Quidditch Captains’ business. When they were finally upon them, Harry was ecstatic. Midha had been describing how wonderful it felt to fly and though Harry did not have feathers, he was looking forward to feeling the wind on his skin and in his hair. Ron teased Harry for not wearing a scarf that day, which was odd because he’d been teasing him for wearing a scarf over the last two weeks. Harry tied it differently for potions and so, he rarely took it off outside the Slytherin area of the castle. He was prepared for some stares but Ron was bizarrely obsessed.

The lessons fell on Friday afternoons and were shared with Gryffindor. By then, Slytherins and Gryffindors had already spent the morning together in a double Transfiguration lesson. Tensions were high. The break for lunch offered little relief. It was like the schedulers wanted to maximize conflict going into the weekend, when young minds were eager for distraction and entertainment.

“So, you want to show off your scar today, Potter?” He leaned into another Gryffindor boy and said, “Probably to distract from his shitty flying.” The boy looked at Ron quizzically.

”Ronald, I think you’re forgetting that many of us have never flown on a broom,” Hermione said.

”Give it a rest, Hermione. Must you always correct me?”

”Uh, oh,” Pansy said in a sing-song voice, “it looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”

”Shut up, you b-“ The Weasel got cut off by Madam Hooch.

”Mr. Weasley! Please focus on your broom and leave your fellow students to theirs.” Ron scowled and reluctantly returned to shouting “up” at his broom.

Harry turned to Draco. Both had succeeded in calling up their brooms and were in position for the next step. Harry said, “He has far too much time on his hands. Do you think he does any schoolwork?” Draco snorted and though Ron had not heard Harry, he assumed it was about him and glared hatefully in their direction.

The promising class was now dragging on. If any class should be smaller, it was Flying, Harry thought. Were there even safety precautions? As the number of successful broom mountings increased, so did the pressure on those who were struggling. Neville, unfortunately, was one of them and Harry didn’t know how to help him without drawing a Gryffindor’s ire. Eventually, he had to set that aside because Neville looked ready to burst from the strain. “Neville, just get down, mate. It looks like the broom is reacting to your nerves,” Harry said in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

”Leave him alone! He’s got this! Right, Neville?” Ron said, slapping Neville’s back. Instantly, Neville’s broom took off like a shot.

“Draco!” Harry shouted.

”On it!” Draco took off to guide Neville down and Harry rounded on Ron. He could hear Madam Hooch shouting at both boys, now too high in the air, but he could not make out her exact words. Harry was filled with anger and fear: why was the woman not fetching Neville herself?!

“You, Weasel, will pay for putting Neville in this position, do you hear me?”

”You’re all talk, Potter. You’ve not done anything to me yet,” Ron said smugly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, “Haven’t I?” Ron gulped and Harry wondered what Ron was blaming him for now. The imbecile was so self-centered. He truly could not fathom a world in which “Harry Potter” wasn’t thinking about him daily.

“You don’t even care about Neville!” Ron retorted.

”Keep telling yourself that, Weasel.” Harry turned his attention to Neville and Draco. The latter was trying but Neville’s broom kept carrying him higher. “Madam Hooch, maybe you could go get him?” Harry suggested in as loud of a voice as he dared. Panic was threatening to take hold.

”I need to stay here and cast spells, should he fall. I need him to come lower or even my cushioning charm may not be enough,” Madam Hooch said. Harry tried to think of her voice as steady and not aloof. He wanted her to teach him the damn spells so that he could help but Harry knew she could not spare the focus.

Fucking fantastic, Harry thought. Could they not have taught them “in case of emergency” spells during the first class instead of the “up” shite? Perhaps, they might have considered an informative pamphlet with useful spells to learn before class! Their class was scheduled for Friday afternoon. That was two weeks of potential learning!

Harry forced himself to focus on Neville, willing him to be alright because he had no idea what else to do. Harry wasn’t experienced at flying and would likely only confuse matters if he talked again or tried to otherwise get involved. Further, it was probable that having more people up there would overwhelm Neville. Then, Harry spotted Draco getting a hold on Nevile’s broom top. Harry’s thoughts began to calm. It seemed to be working! It was clear that Draco was talking and Neville was receptive. Draco was guiding Neville down gently. They were making progress. Things seemed to be going well... until Neville fainted.

———

In the end, Madam Hooch’s spells were helpful. She slowed him down and softened the ground, but Neville still hurt his wrist. The Flying instructor decided to take Neville to see Madam Pomfrey herself, even though Harry offered. Yet again, Harry was confused by the logic of this place. Why leave students unattended, especially those who were tense with one another? Hooch instructed them to stay on the ground until she returned but of course, something went wrong. Ron picked up Neville’s Remembrall, taunted Harry, and flew into the air with it. His last words before he left the ground were: “If you really care about Longbottom, prove it. Come save his Remembrall.”

If only the imbecile had said “get”. No, it had to be “save,” which made Harry imagine broken pieces on the ground and a heartbroken Neville. After what his brother had just been through, Harry could not stand by again. So, he followed after the weasel, discovered a talent for flying, and saved the delicate ball.

Bizarrely, he wasn’t punished for breaking Madam Hooch’s directive. On the contrary, McGonagall brought him to Snape and declared him Slytherin’s new seeker. Despite the rule, Harry was added to the quidditch team and encouraged to get himself a broom. He tried to say “no”. After all, he had been hopped up on adrenalin. It could have been a fluke! Wouldn’t the other first-years get angry? But Snape told him to “talk to Mr. Malfoy” before making a decision.

Harry realized the man had known exactly what he was doing because Draco was thrilled. He made a good case for why Harry should be on the team, emphasizing that it was good for both of them. Draco managed to secure himself a spot adjacent to the team as Harry’s training buddy, which allowed him to attend all of the training sessions. It didn’t seem like much to Harry but Draco was convinced it would give him an advantage when it was his turn to try out for the team.

Harry was pretty sure that if it had not been McGonagall who had seen him flying, he would have ended up in another meeting with the headmaster. He supposed there was still time for repercussions because Harry could not imagine the weasel would let up anytime soon. That, however, was a problem for another day. For now, Neville was well and Draco was happy. That’s what mattered to Harry.

Chapter Text

Overall, Harry thought life in the castle was alright but to his dismay, he found it more restrictive than expected. At the Dursleys, he was close to invisible and learned how to maximize what started as a sad determiner of his life. Living on the outskirts of life at the Dursleys, he learned how to navigate the world with relative freedom. At Hogwarts, not only was he not invisible, the nearby eyes were too curious about the goings-on around them and the myth of “Harry Potter”. Additionally, too many portraits were like the nosiest neighbors in the vicinity, with more willing ears and co-conspirators at their disposal. Harry found it all a bit too much.

When the castle grew quiet, Harry’s skin itched. He wanted to scope out the territory. Harry liked getting the feel of a place and knowing the exits. Yet, at Hogwarts, he’d done little more than travel the paths to and from meals and lessons. Harry needed that to change. So, he started small. When his dorm mates fell asleep, Harry would get out of bed and explore. In the common room, he discovered that a few of the elaborate snake carvings could talk to him. Like the nosy-neighbor portraits, they were eager to share gossip but since their information was more Slytherin-oriented, it was easier for Harry to listen to.

This is how he learned that Hollis did not come from a loving home. He’d guessed it was something like that but the confirmation, with some general details, was another matter. She was safe now, thankfully. The snakes said that their Head of House had been instrumental in securing her a different placement and that Hollis was much improved. Harry felt a little bad for knowing more than he should but he also knew how to keep a secret. Neither he nor the snakes had meant any harm. On the contrary, the snakes told Harry because they’d seen her talk to him. They wanted to impress upon him the need to take her offered friendship seriously.

In time, Harry learned that sinking into the castle walls was both easier and harder. He could sink in quickly, maybe too quickly, but he had to work harder to navigate. The magic, he figured, wanted to pull him in. It wasn’t scary, at least not in the traditional sense. It was more like the walls were too welcoming. Harry wondered if it was possible to let go too much and be unable to get back out. Castle walls were thick, after all. Could he suffocate, if he remained in them for too long? How would his magical core respond?

Harry’s Gringotts testing had revealed that he had learned to pull magic from his core to keep himself well. Medallion said that it was likely because of this that he did not show signs of malnutrition. When he responded with a defensive, “I figured out how to get more food,” Medallion gave him a pointed look.

“And you are now well aware that you should never have had to ‘get more food’…” Medallion was the best, as far as Harry was concerned. She listened and guided, never dissuading him from doing what he felt he must. “You are a fighter, Harry. All I ask is that you be careful.” Medallion was still researching his “wall walking” and welcomed his feedback, to aid in her search. Harry suspected this was her way of keeping the lines of communication open but he didn’t mind. It was a good topic to discuss and explore even if they both knew Harry didn’t need an explanation for the skill. He was simply curious but he’d lived without the details for this long; it wouldn’t matter to Harry if he never knew where it came from or what it was called. Harry was much more interested in the fact that he now had someone tangible in his life who cared about him. He wasn’t sure that would ever stop feeling surreal.

After his week of “detention” with Snape, Harry received a package from Medallion. Within it was a notebook, similar to the one he shared with Draco. It seemed that Gringotts, though secure in their postal precautions, wanted to take additional steps. The Goblin Nation determined that even knowing how many letters Harry sent to and received from Gringotts could aid Dumbledore’s imagination. So, this alternative form of communication with Medallion was arranged. Harry was only too happy to have more direct access to Madam Medallion. So, he didn’t mind at all. Harry just hoped he didn’t misstep with Medallion and Nickel as he figured out who to speak to about what and when.

Dumbledore’s actions inspired these changes. In showing his intention so blatantly, he was responsible for creating the additional obstacles between himself and the knowledge he was after. That is how actions and reactions should work, Harry thought. Too often the powerful got away with horrible actions. Dumbledore was exhausting his resources, attempting to discover the identity of Harry’s guardian. Professor Flitwick’s memory of their first meeting had only enhanced the significance of the headmaster’s investigation. So, Gringotts confidently established additional safety measures to minimize security breaches. For example, Dumbledore was no longer allowed to meet with his accounts manager alone.

Harry didn’t know if it was a clear rule that Dumbledore could react to or a more subtle restriction. Either way, though, he was glad that the goblins knew exactly how to handle the likes of Albus Dumbledore. Harry loathed hearing the awed excitement of first-years as the headmaster passed through the halls. They’d get excited about catching a glimpse of the man! Yuck, Harry thought. He tried not to put much stock in it. After all, there were those awed by him and he’d never done anything for them to be impressed by. All the interest was based on a wildly exaggerated story, one formed without any Potter influence. His parents were killed and he was exiled to the muggle-land.

Harry supposed he should feel grateful that his fellow students weren’t casting magic on him in the halls to test what other spells might “bounce off” of him.

“Remember, Harry, never take your pendant off.” At the memory of those words, the first written in his new communication journal, Harry placed a hand on his chest. He didn’t know all it did but he felt comforted.

Harry had learned a lot on his walks. There was the history professor who could not stop himself from teaching even at night when there wasn’t a student in sight. Harry found Professor Binns’ situation extremely sad. Was there really no way to “send him into the light”? Given his distrust of Dumbledore, Harry was more inclined to think the headmaster liked indoctrinating generations of students to loathe history. Surprisingly, Harry wasn’t opposed to a ghost teaching history. He just wished it was a more engaging ghost, one who considered their audiences.

Harry also learned that a lot of students broke curfew. He didn’t know what to make of that. Did they know which portraits weren’t informants? Was there an unspoken rule that it was okay to break curfew sometimes? Were some students just not as heavily watched? Even if he learned the answers to those questions and found them agreeable, Harry still would not trust that he’d get away with breaking curfew. “Harry Potter” was likely a special case, given the headmaster’s fixation on him.

Some of the curfew-breaking students’ antics made sense to him but the ones he caught studying alone bothered him. Harry wondered what their story was. Did they not feel comfortable in their house common room? Were they being pressured to do better in school by a parent or guardian? Harry hoped they were just studious and wanted a change of scenery; or that they focused better when rebelling. The biggest surprise, however, was Peeves. The prankster was oddly thoughtful when he thought no one was looking.

Harry had found the kitchens but he didn’t know how to get in without sinking into the wall. So, he’d not talked to any of the house elves, which included Cerulean, aka Ru. Harry spent some time watching the elves, though. He found them fascinating. They worked well together and alone, clearly very capable and motivated. Harry wondered if they liked their lives at Hogwarts or dreamed of something more. Did the castle kitchens ever feel like the cupboard had to him? One elf, in particular, drew his eye because she liked to sing and moved through her task like there was music in the room. If he managed to gain entrance to the kitchens, he hoped to meet her.

He did have a lead on how to get into the kitchens: the Weasley twins. Harry had spotted them a couple of times leaving the kitchens and had observed them navigate the castle with ease. They occasionally consulted a sheet of parchment but mostly, they walked confidently down the wide open halls, for all the portraits to see. It wasn’t his style but he could appreciate the boldness. Tonight he was following them to what looked like an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. Harry hadn’t been this high in the castle at night before and he was growing concerned about how much time this would take. Regardless, he would not turn back. Knowing how to get into the kitchens was too important to him.

Harry knew that getting closer to meeting Cerulean was only an excuse. The real issue was food. It didn’t matter that three meals were provided daily. It was nice, sure, but someone else was still deciding when and what he could eat. And just like he liked knowing the exits of a place, he liked knowing where to get the food. At Hogwarts, there was no “waiting until the kitchen was quiet”. It was clearly the house elves’ domain and it was unlikely he could sneak in and out undetected. It was best to meet them properly.

Harry had decided that he could not just approach the Weasley twins in the daytime. Not only were they in the same house as Ronald, they were third years. Such a meeting would draw far too much attention and therefore, feel rushed. So, he waited until the twins were settled in, lounging on a cozy-looking couch and sharing their kitchen treats. He allowed them to eat for a few minutes, as he observed the room, and they chatted.

”What will it be tonight, Freddie boy?”

”Bubotuber pus experiments,” the other said.

Then, in unison, they said, “Nah” loudly and laughed hysterically. This, Harry thought, was an excellent moment to interrupt. Harry made his way back to the entrance and when he was certain they were distracted, he stepped out of the wall.

“Greetings, Weasleys,” Harry said, strolling in. One of them fell to the ground, his laughter having left him too close to the edge of the couch. The other jumped up, wand in hand. Harry gave the wand an amused look and said, “I come in peace but I do admire your instincts.”

The one on the floor was stunned. “H-how…” He cleared his throat. “How did you get in?”

Harry looked confused. “I just walked in”

The one holding his wand laughed and put his wand away. “Fair enough. Sit. Eat. And tell us what you want.”

Harry sat down and considered the food options. He took nothing. The one on the ground returned to his place on the couch and said, “Not hungry?”

“It all looks sweet. I prefer savory or at least not that sweet. You don’t even have tea to ease the sugar. Juice? Really? How are your hands not shaking?”

The twins laughed. “Next time, we’ll get some savory treats for you,” one of them said.

Harry nodded. “What do you do with all the information you gather from your experiments?” Harry waved his hand around the room.

The twins sat up with too-wide, matching grins. They were either very excited or hopped up on sugar; likely both, Harry thought. “We assume this is a private conversation?” they asked together.

”Of course,” Harry said and they hummed, assessing him.

They made an unspoken decision, introduced themselves properly, and started telling him all about their goal to one day own a joke shop. Harry was impressed and when he saw some of what they had already created, he wanted to invest right away, before they could fully appreciate how lucrative this venture could be. He did not allow them to use him in their demonstration but he was pleased to see their willingness to use themselves as test subjects. They were a humble pair, very unlike their younger brother. When the twins were done sharing, Harry drifted into a pensive silence that eventually had the twins on edge.

“So,” Fred asked, “is this about Ron?”

Harry looked at him oddly. “Ron? Ugh.” Harry looked to the ceiling and then, a mischievous smile spread across his face. “Well, it wasn’t…” The twins looked alarmed and Harry thought he could work with that; then, he made them an offer.

———

“Let me get this straight,” George began, “you are offering to invest in us, even before we have a storefront...”

”No, Georgie, he’s wanting to invest in us on our way to getting a storefront. No shop at the end of the tunnel means no investment now, right?” Harry nodded.

“Merlin,” they said jointly.

Then, George said, “But you’re just a kid. I don’t understand. I-”

He stopped himself and together, the twins said, “We don’t want to get our hopes up.”

Harry nodded understandingly. “I get it and the best way to prove myself to you is to follow through with what I say I’m gonna do. I’ll arrange for 100 galleons to be put into your account within the next two days. That money is yours to keep even if we don’t formalize our agreement.” The twins’ eyes widened. “I’ll put my offer in writing while you two gather your thoughts, decide on your goals, and list your demands. After today, related communications will mostly be in correspondence with Gringotts. Maybe by your next Hogsmeade weekend, you can sign the documents.”

The twins looked at each other and Fred spoke, “We’re underage. I don’t think we can sign any documents.”

”I don’t know about that but I’m sure the goblins will have ideas. I’ll warn you now, I won’t take less than 20% of your earnings for the life of your business and the percentage will likely start higher before tapering down, as your contribution rises. I’ll allow my goblin advisor to guide me.” The twins nodded. “Now, back to my original goal, how do I get into the kitchens?” The twins’ mouths fell open and they doubled over themselves laughing. Harry merely smiled and watched them relax.

Harry learned that he needed to “tickle the pear” and after asking about the parchment, they reverently showed him the Marauders’ Map. Harry was stunned silent, as he lovingly stroked the names: Prongs, Mooney, Padfoot. Harry didn’t believe for a second that Sirius betrayed his family.

“Hey, you alright, kid?” one of the twins asked.

”I know them,” Harry whispered. Harry didn’t offer any more information. He sat up tall and looked at the twins with more seriousness than he’d discussed the business investment. “I need this map…” He would have made a deal but the twins simultaneously held up their hands and told him to take it.

”It obviously means a lot to you. But could you maybe tell us who the Marauders are one day?”

”And maybe let us borrow it sometime?” Harry nodded jerkily and looked back at the map.

“This is their den,” the twins said together. Harry’s head jumped up and he looked around, with new eyes.

“It looks like you’re stuck with me, Weasleys, because I’m coming back,” Harry said, grinning wickedly and the twins matched him.

———

Harry was later back than he’d intended, of course, but he already knew that was going to happen. Before leaving, the twins asked him what he meant when he said Ron was now part of the meeting. Harry laughed louder than he probably would have if he weren’t tired and emotionally charged from seeing the Marauders’ Map. “I forgot about him again!” Harry exclaimed. “No offense to you two but your brother’s determination to factor into my life is annoying.” The twins nodded morosely and slumped dramatically.

“He wasn’t this bad before Hogwarts.”

“We thought he was lashing out because he was homesick.”

“But now we think he’s gotten a taste of power,” they said in unison. Harry gave them a questioning gaze but they waved him off.

“Story for another time,” George said.

“Right, the time,” Harry said. “As part of our new understanding, I’m requesting that you take your brother in hand.” The twins looked confused by his suddenly firm tone. “I’d rather not have to retaliate, especially not with Dumbledore so willing to believe I’m starting fights.” The twins looked curious but Harry repeated what George had just said. “Story for another time.”

“So, you want us to deal with him?”

“How?”

“Frankly, I don’t care. You know him best and I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to reform your brother before I am forced to take action.” Harry spoke with a determination that had the twins gulping audibly.

“So, you haven’t been responding?” Harry shook his head.

“That’s brilliant,” they said together and Fred bounced in his seat.

“Yeah, he’s been driving himself crazy. The other day his shoes were too tight and he was heard muttering that you probably shrunk them.”

George said, mock-sagely, “He forgets he’s a growing boy.”

Harry returned to Slytherin territory feeling amused and very accomplished. Ron was their problem for now. He had the Marauders’ Map and knew how to enter the kitchens. The business dealings and potential friendships were a bonus.

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up the next day, Draco was eyeing him suspiciously. Harry put up with it until lunchtime. “Let’s go for a walk,” Harry said.

“I don’t want to miss a meal, Potter,” Draco practically snarled.

“I would never deny you food, Draco. Come on, I think you’ll like this. I’ve never been but I have very high hopes.”

”Well, now I’m intrigued,” Draco said reluctantly.

Draco was indeed pleased with knowing how to access the kitchens and they were currently enjoying a lovely picnic by the lake. They talked about classes and exchanged gossip. The most fascinating bit of information was that Cassius Warrington was rumored to be dating a Gryffindor, the identity of whom was still unknown. Harry and Draco barely cared but they were both tickled by how abuzz the common room was about it. The conversation drifted into an easy silence but eventually, Harry broke it.

”Why were you looking at me so suspiciously this morning, Draco?”

Draco sighed and said, “I have gone back and forth on whether I should even mention it. You are entitled to your privacy but I worry.”

”Just say it, Draco.”

”I know you leave the dorms at night, Harry. At first, I thought you’d just go to the common room. But last night, you were gone for longer than usual. I ended up dozing while trying to wait up for you and make sure you were alright. When I saw you still weren’t back, I went to the common room.”

”I wasn’t there,” Harry said and Draco nodded.

”I considered the possibilities but the only one that makes sense to me is that you are wandering around the castle,” Draco said and silence followed. Draco tried to wait patiently as he watched Harry reach a conclusion.

”You’re not wrong, Draco,” Harry said. Even though Draco knew this to be true, he sucked in a breath.

“Harry, it’s not safe to be walking around the castle alone. Night would be worse and what if something were to happen to you? No one would know where to start looking.” Harry listened to Draco’s concerns with an unidentifiable feeling building inside. “As the ‘boy who lived,’” Draco ignored Harry’s shudder of revulsion, “you are a target and not just for rabid, ‘We love the savior’ fans. There could still be supporters of the Dark Lord who want revenge. I know you are unlikely to stop but maybe I could go with you…”

Harry looked up, startled. “Draco, I couldn’t ask you to do that but I am, shockingly, appreciative of the offer. I wouldn’t even know how to keep you hidden.”

“Well, how do you stay hidden?” Draco queried and Harry realized his mistake. Draco likely thought he’d been lucky, not hidden. He didn’t want to lie to Draco. So, he settled for a vague, mostly true answer.

”Years of practice,” Harry said.

Draco hummed. “Will it make a difference if I say you’re causing me to lose sleep?”

Harry laughed. “I will see what I can do, Draco.”

Life moved on and things changed. The twins were thrilled with the receipt of funds, proof that Harry was serious in his offer. The unsubtle fools beamed at him over breakfast one day, waving a Gringotts envelope. He understood, from Madam Medallion, that the Weasley twins had strong ideas and drive but lacked foundation. She wanted to bake it into the contract that the twins needed to achieve higher grades and complete a NEWT-level education at the very least. Harry agreed.

Like Harry, they were young and inexperienced. A well-regarded, academic achievement could only help them in their bid to be taken seriously in business dealings. After all, Harry would want to work with people whom he could proudly stand next to, in meetings with others. The goblins found a workaround for the twins’ “underage” concerns. Due to the nature of the contract, the need to have a parent sign as well could be circumvented with the signatures of 2 mature, employed family members. Fortunately, the twins came from a large family and had two supportive, older brothers.

Harry tried to keep his connection to the Weasley twins discreet but the twins weren’t having it. They didn’t reveal the nature of their association but they were friendly in the corridors and the Great Hall. It annoyed the hell out of Ron, which was not as amusing as Harry would’ve liked that to be. The Slytherins were more accepting of his newfound “friendship” with the twins. They were aware of Harry’s attachment to Neville and were used to seeing them together around the castle. There was also a healthy respect for the twins’ special brand of mischief-making.

When you factored in the rumors of Warrington having a Gryffindor interest, the divide between the houses seemed manufactured at best. Harry had a feeling that within Hogwarts, and maybe beyond, a lot was shaped with a specific purpose in mind. Draco was the least accepting of Harry’s new Weasley connection but was temporarily mollified by Harry’s explanation: “I ran into them at night. They’re the ones that told me how to tickle the pear.” Draco had rolled his eyes but left Harry to his secrets. Draco understood the need for and accepted “versions of the truth”. Neville, on the other hand, was positively gleeful about Harry’s new Gryffindor ties and he happily shared news of the pranks the twins had pulled on Ron.

“And, since it happens so often, and in Gryffindor territory, he seems increasingly nutters when he blames it on you,” Neville said. Draco and the other Slytherins who had gathered for an impromptu picnic by the lake looked at Harry searchingly. Neville caught the looks and said, “I don’t even want to know. I’m just so happy some of the attention is off of me.”

“He’s an asshole, Neville. One way or another, he’ll learn to either shut up or get out of the way,” Harry said, too pleasantly, as he admired the lake’s surface. “You know, I was thinking about your work in the greenhouses, Nev.”

“Oh?” Neville perked up and Daphne snorted. Neville playfully glared at her. “What about it?”

“Do you think you could convince Sprout to let you lead an interhouse project? It’ll be getting too cold to picnic outside soon and students aren’t allowed to bring food into the greenhouses. Maybe she’ll let us build a more community-based greenhouse.”

“I love that idea!” Pansy exclaimed. “We could focus on plants that are less interactive and menacing.”

“Quite. I don’t like when greenery has teeth,” Blaise stated.

“I don’t know, Harry. I’m not much of a leader. No one would listen to me,” Neville said.

“Neville, sweetie, only an idiot would dismiss you when it comes to Herbology,” Daphne said matter-of-factly.

“Exactly and when it comes to this, participation would be voluntary. So, idiots need not apply,” Theo added.

“I think the biggest hurdle would be Dumbledore. He doesn’t seem to like interhouse relationships, no matter his outwardly unifying exterior,” Harry said.

“Speaking of him, Harry,” Neville said, quietly. Harry nodded encouragingly. “My gran said he wrote her a letter about you. She said it bordered on accusatory. He really wants to know who your magical guardian is.”

“How did your grandmother handle it, Neville?” Draco asked.

“Well,” Neville smiled, “I don’t know exactly, of course, but she said she reminded him how hard she had worked to know the same thing a decade ago. She made it clear, I think, that she loathes him.”

“Another asshole,” Harry said.

“The biggest asshole,” Draco corrected. “And please watch your language, Harry. We need to get you a thesaurus.”

“Would ‘asshole’ be in the thesaurus?” Pansy turned to Theo.

“I can’t imagine the synonyms being more socially acceptable,” Theo replied. “You could go in another direction, perhaps?”

“Like ‘scoundrel,’ you mean?” Pansy asked.

“Precisely. Blackguard, maybe,” Theo added.

“Knave,” Blaise contributed.

“Cad,” Draco said, clearly considering his next guess.

“Heel!” Daphne exclaimed.

“All I’ve got is ‘jerk,’” Neville said.

“Mates,” Harry said, “I appreciate the alternatives but your word choice is too spot on. At least if I’m heard saying ‘asshole’ they can chalk it up to childhood angst.”

“Fine, act like a commoner, if it helps the cause,” Draco drawled and everyone laughed.

They continued amiably for another 20 minutes before a shrill voice interrupted them. “Where did you get that?!”

“Here we go,” Pansy muttered.

“To what are you referring, Ms. Granger?” Draco asked, the picture of cooperation.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know. That!” Hermione pointed at the picnic basket.

“Oh, dear,” Daphne said, as she turned to Harry, “do they not have picnic baskets in the muggle world?” Daphne’s face was so concerned, Harry nearly laughed.

“They do,” Harry said, also concerned. “It is strange that Ms. Granger wouldn’t have seen or heard of them.”

“Perhaps she is unwell?” Blaise queried. “Who is willing to escort her to the infirmary?”

“I guess I’ll do it. She is my housemate, after all.” Neville made a show of standing up and dusting himself off. “Come along, Hermione, I’ll take you to Madam Pomfrey.” Neville looked so sincere, Harry was half-convinced he meant it.

Hermione took a step back, “Stop it! Neville, I can’t believe you would let them treat me this way.”

Harry stood up and patted Neville on the shoulder, relieving him of the burden of replying. “Ms. Granger…”

“It’s Hermione,” she gritted.

“Very well, Hermione,” Harry said. “We are here, enjoying what remains of the warmer season and you march up making demands.”

“Again!” Pansy interjected.

“Yes, again,” Harry agreed. “We are under no obligation to meet your demands. Maybe you should start trying approaches that begin with a greeting.”

“Like ‘hello,’ for instance,” Draco said.

“‘How do you do?’ is another great option,” Daphne added.

Hermione’s eyes started watering and Harry almost took pity on her. Then, she said, “I’m going to tell Headmaster Dumbledore about this!” She turned on her heel and practically marched away.

“I can’t even laugh,” Blaise said. “She needs social skills immediately.”

Neville spoke, “It’s worse in the Gryffindor common room. She lectures the Weasley twins about their pranks, gets after seventh-years for not taking better care of the first-years, and just last night, she yanked a book from her dorm-mate’s hands because it wasn’t ‘related to coursework.’ Even Ron is turning against her. I think that may be why she came over to bother us. The only thing she has in common with Ron is their criticism of Slytherins.”

“I almost feel sorry for her,” Harry said, unsure. “Maybe? I can’t tell what this feeling is but I agree with Blaise. I can’t laugh, not even on the inside.”

Pansy hummed. “Well, I’m not laughing but I’m far from pitying her. She brings it on herself.”

“At least she isn’t our problem anymore. If she upset her dorm-mates, she’s in for a rough time. Lavender can be vicious,” Daphne said.

“That reminds me! She punched Monroe. What was that about?” Draco asked excitedly.

“I know this!” Theo exclaimed, happy when he knew something ‘social’ when others did not, since he was usually delayed when it came to castle-wide gossip. “Lavender has an older sister named Oleander. She graduated 2 years ago. Monroe’s brother went on a date with her but it didn’t go well. Monroe, in a pathetic attempt to defend his brother’s honor, said Oleander was nothing more than a vindictive shrew.”

“Wait, who’s Monroe?” Harry asked.

“He’s a fourth-year Ravenclaw who thinks he’s hot shit. A big part of his sense of importance is his brother’s good looks and success. But his brother, Barrett, is just as much of an ass as Mason. Lavender didn’t share the story of the date. Mason did. We think he was trying to beat her to it,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

They continued chatting for a few more minutes, equalizing their moods a bit more, before heading back inside the castle. The rest of the day continued without a problem until dinner. Snape walked up to the Slytherin table and informed Harry that the headmaster wished to speak with him.

“Very well, sir, could our second be Professor McGonagall this time? I think I know what this is regarding.” Harry thought he noticed a quirk at the corner of Snape’s mouth.

“I’ll ask her and eat slowly, Mr. Potter. I do want to enjoy my meal.”

Chapter Text

By the time Harry, McGonagall, and Snape were finished with dinner, Headmaster Dumbledore felt like he had been waiting for too long. As the three of them entered his office, Dumbledore looked up, doing his best to feign surprise.

“Ah, welcome, come in. May I interest you in some tea? Biscuits? Lemon drops?”

“No, thank you, Albus. What is this regarding?” asked McGonagall.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Minerva. Was Filius not available this evening, Severus?”

“I asked for Mistress McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry said.

“It’s Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said, disapprovingly. Harry turned inquiring eyes on McGonagall.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize you didn’t approve of being called Mistress McGonagall,” Harry asked delicately. Snape thought only he recognized the devious mind behind the tone.

“Do not upset yourself, Mr. Potter. I’d have said something before if I disapproved. I find I quite enjoy it. A few others have started doing so as well, in fact.”

“Minerva, surely there are more appropriate titles,” Dumbledore implored.

“‘Deputy Headmistress’ is a mouthful and I never did appreciate the title falling out of fashion. It is a mark of respect, Albus, and I will not be the one to stop its use, by Mr. Potter or anyone else. Now, what is this meeting about, Albus?”

“It has been brought to my attention that Mr. Potter has continued to be rude to fellow students. Furthermore, there is the concern that Mr. Potter is bringing in contraband.”

“Contraband, Albus?”

“Yes, a student reported that Mr. Potter was distributing foods other than what is available within Hogwarts to students from more than one house.” Dumbledore looked at Harry, practically demanding that he defend himself. When Harry did not speak, Dumbledore sighed dramatically. “I see more detention is needed, Mr. Potter. What do you say to another week with Professor Snape?” Still, Harry said nothing.

“Hold on, Albus. A week’s detention is excessive, especially when you haven’t even identified the reason for its assignment. An accusation is just that; an accusation. Is there proof? What are the motives of the student who made the report?” McGonagall asked, increasingly frustrated.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said harshly. “I have no intention of giving up another week’s worth of evenings because you are unable to communicate with the headmaster in a way that he can appreciate. You mentioned before that you had an idea of what this meeting was about. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Well, Professor Snape…” Harry paused. “I forgot again, didn’t I? Could we start recording the meeting from now or would another pensieve memory suffice?”

“Recording? Again? Another week?” McGonagall murmured to herself. Then, more clearly, she said, “Albus, I will be discussing this with you later.”

“Well remembered, Mr. Potter. Your guardian sent along this recording device…” Snape pulled from his robes a glowing sphere and set it on a conjured table. “There, you may proceed.” Albus spluttered but did not speak.

“My friends and I were by the lake this afternoon, having lunch. We were eating out of a picnic basket with food from the Hogwarts kitchens. Ms. Hermione Granger came up to us, demanding to know what was going on. We didn’t address her in a manner she appreciated and eventually, she stalked off, saying she’d tell Headmaster Dumbledore. I’m thinking she followed through on her declaration, since here we are, having another meeting.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely as if Harry had revealed exactly what Dumbledore wanted to unpack. “And where did you get this picnic basket, Mr. Potter?”

“From the kitchens,” Harry said.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “And how did you get into the kitchen, Mr. Potter?”

“I tickled the pear,” Harry said and McGonagall snorted.

“Students are not allowed to disrupt the house elves, Mr. Potter. That is a grave offense,” Dumbledore said in a very disappointed tone.

“I did not ask much of their time. I know where to find the picnic baskets and will take whatever food they give. I do not make demands of the elves, Professors. In fact, I make it a point to ask if they need anything. Occasionally, I’m asked to grab things from higher shelves by the younger elves who are still learning their way around a kitchen. I also choose my time wisely and will wait if they are too busy. I take precautions. The last thing I want to do is disrupt the house elves or lose the privilege of having access to the kitchens.” Dumbledore listened and looked like he wanted to understand but he could not let this go. Before he could speak, however, McGonagall did.

“Albus, are you seriously considering penalizing this student for doing what other students have done since the very beginning of this school? If you prevent Mr. Potter from accessing the kitchens, you’ll have to make an announcement to the school, banning everyone. I doubt that would have the desired effect of stopping those who already have access. It would likely upset those who don’t even think of doing so.”

Dumbledore glared at McGonagall but then smoothed his face. “Perhaps you are right, my dear, but I must ask Mr. Potter to be more considerate of his fellow students. Ms. Granger meant no harm. Perhaps she even felt bad, being excluded from such an enjoyable activity.”

“Then, perhaps Ms. Granger should study how to interact with other humans,” Harry said.

“Mr. Potter!” Dumbledore exclaimed.

“Albus,” McGonagall said warningly. Then, she turned to Harry. “What do you mean by that, Mr. Potter?”

Harry turned to look at McGonagall and appeared to be looking for the right words. (Oh, this kid is good, Snape thought.) “It’s just that she’s always studying from books but doesn’t bother to observe actual human interactions. She demands instead of asking. She scolds instead of making suggestions. Today, by the lake, we suggested she try saying ‘hello’ but she simply took offense. I don’t know what her life was like before coming to the magical world but it seems clear to me that she’s lacking rudimentary social skills.”

“I understand what you are saying, Mr. Potter, and will endeavor to observe her more closely. Perhaps there is a way to aid her transition better.”

“That brings me to the other matter of Mr. Potter’s rudeness to his fellow students. In addition to how you’ve treated Ms. Granger, I understand you’ve continued to fight with Mr. Ronald Weasley. I do not condone interhouse bullying, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore had some nerve, Harry would give him that. It took a lot of effort but Harry said nothing.

“Albus, we’ve already discussed his interaction with Ms. Granger. I, for one, do not see an issue with it. Severus, do you?” McGonagall asked Snape.

“Of course not,” Snape said.

“Now, as for Mr. Weasley, Albus, that boy has very overtly attempted to provoke Mr. Potter on more than one occasion. So, I do not know what you are referring to. Is this a topic you can also predict, Mr. Potter?”

“No, Mistress, I haven’t a clue,” Harry answered.

“Mr. Weasley has brought it to my attention that you have threatened him on more than one occasion,” Dumbledore stated confidently. When Harry said nothing, Dumbledore sighed and added, “When Mr. Longbottom flew higher than he was supposed to, if you recall.”

Harry sneered and Dumbledore looked pleased. The bastard. “Are you referring to when Ron slapped Neville on the back, while he was struggling to maintain control of the broom? That had the effect of propelling Neville up higher than he would ever wish to go, Headmaster. Neville ended up hurting his wrist and it could’ve easily been worse.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, retaliation is not appropriate,” Dumbledore persevered. Again, Harry said nothing.

McGonagall broke the silence. “Albus, what form did this alleged retaliation take?” Albus looked at McGonagall with a penetrating gaze but said nothing. “I’ve had enough. Severus?” Snape nodded. “In the future, Albus, do consider recommending to both Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley that they approach their Head of House, who also happens to be their Transfiguration professor. I do not know why they feel so confident bringing such matters to the Headmaster.” Then, she turned to Harry. “Come along, Mr. Potter, I’m sure your fellow Slytherins are wondering where you are.” Together, they left, taking the recording sphere with them.

When the gargoyle jumped aside to let them through, Harry was met with an armful of fur. “Hey, you wild girl. Where’ve you been hiding, huh?” Draco’s wild cat-kneazle mix familiar, Serafina, was nuzzling Harry’s chest.

“She’s lovely,” McGonagall practically gushed. Serafina looked at McGonagall and returned all paws to the floor to examine the Deputy Headmistress. Seemingly satisfied, she stepped forward and allowed McGonagall to pet her.

“She is but she’s been elusive since the train arrived. I think she was getting to know the grounds and waiting until things calmed down. She was on the train when Hermione first spotted Howell. Draco was worried she’d run away but the wild girl kept leaving treats for Howell. So, we knew she was still around.”

“What kind of treats?” McGonagall asked.

At the same time, Snape asked, “How did you know these treats were from Draco’s familiar?”

“Hmm?” Harry asked innocently.

“Nevermind. Let’s return to the dungeons. Minerva, are you coming this way?”

“I will for a bit, yes. I have something I wish to speak with Filius about.”

“Come along, Wild Girl, let’s check in with Draco,” Harry said. Serafina circled Harry once and bound down the stairs. “I think she’ll meet up with us downstairs.” Harry tried to sound confident.

“For one called Serafina, she behaves more like a demon,” Snape drawled.

“Nah, she’s a good girl,” Harry countered but he quickened his pace.

Serafina was waiting for them at the top of the stairs that led to the dungeons. As if on cue, as soon as Harry’s feet touched the floor, a screech was heard. “That is a wild cat!”

“It’s a shame McGonagall didn’t travel with us all the way,” Harry said.

“Indeed,” Snape agreed.

“Professor Snape, first he has a snake and now a wild cat. Just how many rules will he be allowed to break before someone intervenes?” Harry was beginning to think Hermione was an idiot. This was Snape.

“Perhaps you’d like to report this matter to the Headmaster as well, Ms. Granger. Were you waiting for Mr. Potter to pass by, on his way to the dungeons? Perhaps you were eager to gloat, hoping to see a crestfallen Slytherin.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Hermione said.

Snape hummed. “Return to Gryffindor Tower, Ms. Granger, and be grateful I’m not removing house points.” Snape was about to turn towards the dungeons when Hermione, idiot girl, spoke up.

“What about the wild cat, Professor?” Hermione demanded haughtily.

“The cat is none of your business and now, I’ve changed my mind. Ten points from Gryffindor for thinking you know the rules better than the professors. Another 10 points for thinking you are entitled to make demands of your professor.”

“But professor!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Another ten more points for challenging my decision. Now, are we quite done here?” It was rhetorical but Hermione nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Return to the tower, Ms. Granger.” Snape’s voice brooked no argument and Hermione rushed away.

Harry did his best not to laugh. He really did. But once they reached the door to the Slytherin common room, he lost it. Snape looked at him impassively but he didn’t walk away. Harry quickly pulled himself together and got Serafina’s attention. “Come along, Wild Girl, we’re going inside.” Harry spoke the password and as the door slid open, Snape spoke.

“There will be repercussions, Mr. Potter. Please prepare your yearmates as best you can.”

“I will, sir. Thank you. Have a good night,” Harry said and walked inside.

Snape noted that as lively as Serafina had been, she did not bound into the common room. She waited for Harry. He’d have to ask Draco about that.

Chapter Text

“Before we head out to breakfast, I need a recap,” Pansy said.

“Again, Pansy?” Blaise said.

“Yes, because I need to have it very clear in my mind, to keep me from cutting a bitch. Okay, so, Draco will have Howell because Harry wants to be prepared if Ron pushes him again…” Pansy said, getting the summary started.

“Yes, and this time, I’m going to allow the push to send me falling,” Harry said.

“Why?” Pansy asked. “I don’t want you to get hurt or, more importantly, look weak.”

“That’s the thing, Pans,” Daphne said, “Harry has already been pushed twice with no sign of retaliation. If it happens a third time, it will set a precedent.”

“But no one is even talking about it,” Pansy said frustratedly.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t remember,” Theo said.

“Harry’s going to get in trouble. Dumbledore is itching to punish him,” Pansy argued.

“It’s a risk, I know, and I’m sorry.” Harry looked in Draco’s direction too. This had been discussed more privately and Draco was very clear about not liking this approach.

“What if you don’t get in as good of a hit as he gives you? What if the hitting continues?” Blaise’s concern was now surfacing.

“I will do my best to not engage him. That’s all I can guarantee. Everything else is a risk. Now, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

When they made it to the Great Hall, the conversation stopped. Blaise whispered, “I think we under-prepared.” They continued walking towards the Slytherin table, on high alert but doing their best not to show it. Just as they passed the Hufflepuff table, the chatter started up and Ron’s voice was heard.

“Oi, Potter! You cost us another 30 points!”

“He does realize the head table is right there, right?” Pansy said. “This is ridiculous.”

“Let’s just keep walking,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“I’m talking to you! What, not man enough to face me, Potter?” Ron taunted.

“Do not fall for this shit, Harry,” Draco commanded.

“I’m resisting but I’m doing the math, Draco. Walking away doesn’t help us in the long run either,” Harry responded.

“He’s a volcano. He will blow,” Theo said.

Then, there was the sound of running and Harry was shoved hard, from the back. Harry went sprawling and when he turned himself over, Ronald was standing over him. “When I speak, you respond. That’s how this works.” Harry smiled devilishly as he lifted his legs, bending at the knees, and kicked out hard. Ron collapsed with a shout.

Harry used the gathered students as a cover to whisper in Ron’s ear. “You like that response, Weasel?” Then, he quickly stood up in time to see the headmaster coming towards them.

“What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked. Harry just looked at Dumbledore as impassively as he could. Ron was holding his legs and he looked to be fighting tears. “I asked you a question, Mr. Potter.”

Two others joined the group, Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Saving Harry from answering, McGonagall said, “Albus, we all saw Mr. Weasley charge Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, but I specifically warned Mr. Potter against retaliation,” Dumbledore said, glaring at Harry. “You are heading down a dangerous path, Mr. Potter, if you do not learn to control your anger.” Still, Harry said nothing. “Twenty points from Slytherin and a night’s detention with Filch.” Harry remained silent. “Do you have anything to say, Mr. Potter?”

“Will you be deducting points from Gryffindor and assigning Mr. Weasley detention?” Harry asked calmly.

Suddenly, Ron found his voice. “I was only defending my house! You keep causing us to lose points!”

“Mr. Weasley, if you are so concerned with house points, do consider putting more effort into earning them rather than blaming others for their deduction,” McGonagall said. Then, she looked at Dumbledore expectantly. When he said nothing, she raised her eyebrows.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Yes, well, twenty points from Gryffindor and a night’s detention with Filch.” Then, the headmaster turned and walked away. Harry wasn’t the only one to notice he didn’t check on Ron before leaving.

“You know, Minerva, I don’t think he was going to punish Mr. Weasley,” Professor Sprout said, diffusing some of the awkwardness in the air. She then looked down at Ron, who was still on the floor. Harry didn’t know if the redhead was just that injured or putting on a show but he thought Professor Sprout’s response was perfect. “Oh, Mr. Weasley, let me conjure you a stretcher since you are clearly too injured to move.” Ron tried to protest. “No, dear, clearly you cannot stand.” So, Ron was floated up off the floor, for everyone to see as he exited the hall horizontally. It was brilliant.

Everyone dispersed, after that, and the hall was abuzz. Only time would tell where the rumors would go but for today, Harry was seen defending himself and Ron was in the infirmary.

———

Two days later, the Weasley twins joined Harry at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Adrian Pucey looked over and shook his head. That was going to be a discussion later.

“So, just as a head’s up, Ron told our mom about his injury,” Fred said. Harry was getting better at telling the twins apart but he couldn’t pinpoint how he was doing it.

“Yeah, so, you might be getting a howler,” George added.

“Excuse me, your mother thinks it’s acceptable to send a howler to a child that isn’t even hers?” Pansy asked.

The twins nodded sheepishly. “We know,” they said together.

“What’s a howler?” Harry asked and the students at the table shared their tales of either receiving one or witnessing one. “And I can’t avoid it? I just have to listen to it? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Well, usually, it happens so fast and witnesses are so intrigued that no one does anything,” Theo said.

“Also, it’s usually from close family. So, not listening would also have consequences,” Daphne added.

“Well, I’m an orphan without any family that would send me a howler,” Harry stated. “So, what are my options?” Then, the suggestions began.

———

The day the howler arrived, it was allowed to open uninterrupted. The Slytherins had decided that they’d simply boost the volume. An upper year by the name of Riel Nolan volunteered with a definitive, “I fucking hate howlers.” Harry thought Riel must have been very determined because Mrs. Weasley’s voice boomed around the Great Hall so loudly that the ghosts showed up to see what was going on.

“Mr. Potter, how dare you lay a hand on my son! My Ronniekins was in tears from the pain you caused him! I have half a mind to report you to the Ministry for assault! If you ever lay a hand on my son again, I will come down to that school and put you over my knee!”

Then a male voice was heard. “Molly, enough. The twins said…”

“Don’t even say it, Arthur. My precious Ronniekins would never hurt anyone–” The howler ended abruptly and the Great Hall was silent.

No one said anything for a few seconds. Then, fortunately, a Weasley broke the silence. George stage-whispered, “Ronniekins, are you all better now?”

“Or should we write to mum again?” Fred added. Ron’s face turned an alarming shade of red before he marched out of the hall. Chatter was just starting up again when Snape approached. Harry looked up.

“Please tell me it’s not another meeting with the headmaster,” Harry said.

“It is,” Snape said. Harry nodded and stood up. “We do not need to go now, Mr. Potter.”

“But you’ve already eaten and I have lost my appetite,” Harry said and Professor Snape nodded. “Who’s our second?”

“Professor Sprout,” Snape said.

“Interesting,” Harry said.

“Is it?” Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged.

———

Once in front of Dumbledore’s desk, Harry asked Snape if he had the recording device. Snape nodded and conjured the same table as before. Sprout watched them in interest.

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began, “was it necessary to increase the volume of the howler?”

“I didn’t increase the volume, Headmaster,” Harry said and Dumbledore shook his head.

“Mr. Potter, there’s no need to lie. Such things can be verified,” Dumbledore said. “I need to see your wand.”

“Are you asking me to hand my wand over to you?” Dumbledore nodded and put out his hand. “Then, no,” Harry said definitively.

“Pardon?”

“No. I’ve been informed that handing over one’s wand is an act of trust. Therefore, it is rarely handed over to anyone except for special circumstances, like competing in a major tournament or entering the Ministry.”

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore’s voice was cold, “you are an 11-year-old boy. There is little cause for you to be so guarded.” Harry did not bother to disagree. “Now, hand over your wand.”

“No.”

“Headmaster,” Snape began, “am I right in concluding that you want to check the history of the spells used with this wand?”

“Yes, Severus. So, Mr. Potter, hand over your wand.” Dumbledore reached out his hand for a third time, this time making grabby-hand gestures.

Harry turned to his Head of House. “What does that entail, Professor Snape?” The professor then explained the priori incantato spell and guided Harry through its performance. The goal was to reveal the last several spells so that Harry would not be accused of clearing the spell just before. When Harry succeeded, Sprout finally said something.

“Well done, Mr. Potter. It’s clear you have a real love of learning.”

“Thank you, Professor Sprout.”

“Since it has been established that Mr. Potter is not responsible for amplifying Mrs. Weasley’s voice, may we bring this meeting to a close, Headmaster?” Sprout asked but Dumbledore ignored her.

“Where did you get that wand, Mr. Potter?” Harry did not reply but he did offer a confused look. “I learned from Mr. Olivander that you did not purchase a wand from his shop.” Harry still said nothing. “Mr. Potter, I demand an answer.”

“I don’t understand your meaning, Headmaster. It was on the Hogwarts school list and at Gringotts, I reviewed it. I did my best to manage the money I had access to, to make shopping alone easier. Was that not okay?” Harry made a show of looking at his wand as if searching for a flaw.

Professor Sprout spoke up again. “Mr. Potter, did you say you went shopping alone?”

Harry turned his wide, verdant eyes on Professor Sprout. “Yes, ma’am.” Sprout looked at Dumbledore, her brows furrowed.

Dumbledore pretended not to notice her consternation. “Mr. Potter, it is not wise to use another’s wand. I can certainly appreciate the desire to save money and use a wand discovered in your vault. But perhaps it is best to go to Olivander’s. If money is an issue, I might be able to allocate some of Hogwarts’ funds for this purpose.” Professor Sprout scoffed. The headmaster was known to be “overly economical” with the school funds.

“I like my wand, Headmaster, and I see no reason to change it,” Harry said, sounding even more innocent. Internally, Snape was rolling his eyes. This kid was an absolute menace, Snape thought.

“But Mr. Potter, you must understand that without knowing who the wand belonged to or indeed, who put it in your vault…” Dumbledore allowed the thought to hang in the air.

Harry turned to look at his professors. Snape stared straight ahead, giving nothing away and Professor Sprout was pursing her lips. Harry thought she might be angry. Then, he looked at Dumbledore with wide green eyes.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, the goblins of Gringotts represent my magical guardian. As such, it is their duty to prioritize my best interest. I am certain that if there were an issue with this wand, I would have never been allowed to leave Gringotts with it in my possession,” Harry said steadily, followed by a childlike bob of his head like he was proud of himself for getting the words right.

Dumbledore sat back as if he’d only just realized what he’d said. He looked to the recording ball and back at Harry. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Well, thank you for putting an old man’s worries to rest, Mr. Potter.”

———

Once in the dungeons, Professor Snape turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I believe it is time for us to have a little chat. Please visit me after my next office hours.” Harry made to open his mouth but Snape continued. “You may bring Mr. Malfoy.” Harry smiled and nodded. This one was much more sincere and Snape thought perhaps the term “menace” was understating things.

Chapter Text

The effects of the howler were humorous, at first. Ron was getting teased and the Slytherins were left alone. Then, the consequences within Gryffindor became known and the Slytherins stopped laughing.

Neville approached them the next day at breakfast, looking exhausted. “Hey, uh, meet me in the greenhouses after you finish eating?” Then, instead of heading back out of the Great Hall, Neville slumped onto the bench. Harry quickly abandoned his plate, prepared two bacon and egg sandwiches, and made his way around the table to pull Neville up.

“Come on, Nev. I’ve got you,” Harry said softly before turning to the Slytherins. “Meet us there?” Draco nodded and Harry wrapped an arm around Neville before leading him out of the hall. “Let’s get you some fresh air.” As they passed the Gryffindor table, Ron stood up but before he could say anything, the boy next to him yanked him down.

“For fuck’s sake, Weasley, give it a rest,” the boy said and Harry thought he heard murmurs of agreement. Harry and Neville continued walking uninterrupted towards the greenhouses.

“No food in the greenhouse,” Neville said sleepily.

“I know, Nev. Here, take this,” Harry said, putting a sandwich in his brother’s hand. “Eat.”

Neville looked a little confused to have something in his hand but slowly allowed himself to respond. After Harry saw him take a couple of careful bites, he started eating too. They were about 6 feet from the entrance of the nearest greenhouse, which Harry thought was good enough. Neville would’ve chosen a greater distance, Harry knew, but if anyone deserved special privileges, it was his brother.

“It’s a shame there aren’t benches out here,” Harry said. Neville smiled softly but didn’t respond. He continued eating quietly while looking at the trees and tilting his head as if to sample the wind. Gradually, he started looking more like himself. When they were finished eating, Harry spoke again, “Which one today?”

“Greenhouse 4,” Neville said decisively. “I’m in the mood for some teeth.”

“Blaise will love that.” Harry chuckled.

Neville was happily repotting a deceptively vicious tulip called Esurientum Tulip. They were technically not for first years but Professor Sprout was not one to suppress talent. Neville had always been great with magical flora and his grandmother supported any activity that brought her grandson peace. Harry couldn’t see that at first. Given that Neville had lost his parents on the same day as him, Harry was on the lookout for other similarities. He listened to his brother’s stories carefully, with suspicion for Augusta Longbottom.

It was clear to Harry she had her flaws but Neville loved her dearly. Harry wasn’t inclined to take Neville’s word for it. He knew from personal experience how low standards could skew perception. Still, for Neville, he tried to keep an open mind. Neville sensed Harry’s wariness of his grandmother and tried to make it clear that he felt loved. He soon accepted that Harry needed time. Harry had grown up differently and worked to navigate the fine line between concern and respect. Harry didn’t push his doubts onto him and for that, Neville was grateful. Nevertheless, he looked forward to the day that his grandmother was removed from the “potential foes” list.

Neville’s wand issues turned out to be the decider. When he was younger, Neville found his father’s wand. In her grief, Augusta Longbottom concluded that her grandson was likely meant to take up her son’s mantle. Little things she’d say, from that moment on, had a profound impact on Neville. Later, even with evidence to support that it wasn’t necessary, Neville committed himself, “for his gran,” to becoming “just like his dad.” Frank Longbottom’s wand, however, was very loudly communicating that it was not ready to be passed along to another.

At Hogwarts, Neville had issues in his classes that others, including teachers, explained away with mundane reasons. Students started openly judging him, which was far from helpful. The more self-conscious Neville got, the more irritated Harry became. Harry was certain that the fault was not his brother’s. So, he wrote to Kylene, describing in great detail what he’d observed. Her response was simple. Neville needed a wand that was solely his. That perspective made much more sense to Harry.

Unsure how else to address the issue, Harry chose to share both letters to Neville. He figured his letter to Kylene and her response would communicate all that needed to be known. His brother, of course, took the news in stride. Neville wasn’t offended by Harry’s intervention and welcomed the result. With confidence, he decided to write to his grandmother. Though curious, Harry didn’t ask to see the letter or be told what it said. However, he made it clear that he eagerly awaited his grandmother’s response. Neville acknowledged him with a knowing smile and left it at that. Harry mentally prepared for alternatives in case Augusta Longbottom decided to obstruct his brother’s way.

She didn’t. To Harry’s immense relief, Neville’s grandmother was quick to promise her grandson a new wand as soon as they got the chance. Neville would have to make do until the end of the term for reasons to do with “school rules” but Harry thought there was more strategy to it. He might have been suspicious of Augusta Longbottom but he never thought her stupid; and it was definitely unintelligent to accept a rule that prevented a student from acquiring the best tool for their maximal learning.

Neville was absolutely fine with waiting and in fact, once the decision to get a new wand was made, he had an easier time with his father’s wand. He said it seemed more agreeable as if it understood that it was only being borrowed temporarily. Wands, it seemed, did not care for being wrangled. His brother had even found a silver lining to the delay: “It gives me time to convince Gran to take me to Kylene’s.”

Now we’re talking! Harry thought.

Before the wand issue was resolved, Harry was a little nervous that the pressure on Neville to follow in his father’s footsteps was more overtly coming from his grandmother. It seemed to be a common practice in the magical community. Harry thought it was bizarrely muggle in nature. Even with magic, humans seemed overly eager to chase versions of immortality. Harry was happy that wasn’t the case for Nevile and he promised himself that for his brother, he would aim to see more good in Augusta Longbottom. She had, after all, fought to find him after Voldemort killed his parents…

Harry’s thoughts about parents were changing. He was no longer certain he’d have been better off if his parents had not died… That felt uncharitable to think… Of course he’d have preferred that they lived! But… Who would he and Neville be if their parents had not been felled so young? If they were alive today, whole and hale, would they have allowed Harry and Neville to be who they pleased? Would they have worked to create the next phase of James Potter and Frank Longbottom? Why was the magical community so resistant to change? Did family lines only alter their course when forced to by circumstances or trauma?

“Ow! You naughty thing,” Neville said tenderly. You’ll like the new pot. You’ll see.”

Harry’s thoughts returned to the present. In the greenhouse, he continued to keep his distance from Neville’s careful attention on the hungry tulips. He enjoyed watching Neville in his element. His brother found true joy in soothing the flowery beast. Harry thought Neville’s gift was truly special and that what he was observing was only a small part of what he was capable of. They were soon joined by Draco and Pansy, saying that the others needed to finish their Transfiguration essay. Harry thought they mostly didn’t want to overwhelm Neville. Draco silently checked with Harry before approaching his brother cautiously. “What’s going on, Neville?”

After a beat, Neville sat back and began to speak. “Ron essentially threw a tantrum last night. He claimed it was an accident but I don’t think it was. The dorm was a mess. Trunks were overturned, parchment was everywhere… The elves were called in to help clean but the dorm doesn’t feel safe anymore. I couldn’t sleep.”

All three Slytherins had ideas but instead of speaking up, they looked at each other. Harry shook his head and the other two nodded. They all knew by now that offering solutions wasn’t always well received. Many people, not just Neville, preferred to process things at their own speed. “How can we help, Neville?” Harry asked.

Neville shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do.” The Slytherins weren’t convinced of that at all but they stayed quiet. “I don’t want to room with him anymore but can you imagine how much worse he’d be if he drove any of us away?”

“Hey, Nev, it’s not your job to hold the line against him. Is there a way to change rooms?” Harry looked at the other two Slytherins who shook their heads. They didn’t think so.

“Well, I asked Gran if re-sorting was possible. The hat considered Hufflepuff for me and said both would be a good fit. But I chose Gryffindor, in honor of my parents,” Neville finished dejectedly.

“What did your grandmother say?” Pansy asked.

“She said she could demand one, on my behalf, if it came down to it. And after yesterday, I think she finally has cause. I know Hufflepuff isn’t promised happiness but I think they’d at least be calmer. Plus, I really like Professor Sprout. No offense to Mistress McGonagall but Herbology is my favorite subject.”

“On the plus side, Hufflepuff is closer to Slytherin territory,” Draco added.

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, Nev, we could spend more time together.

“Yes, yes, but we’re still going to consider various protection options,” Pansy said. “Honestly, upending other people’s trunks. I hope nothing important was broken or stolen.”

“So far, everything seems okay but I’ll keep that in mind. I was so focused on my schoolwork. I had to redo my Potions essay because it got ink stains all over it from a spilled inkwell. Professor McGonagall offered to help. She even offered to request an extension but I needed something to take my mind off of the chaos. Dean and Seamus fared better. Their school work only had tears, which McGonagall repaired.”

“Until you’re re-sorted, I’ll ask the twins to help you. They know the territory and can probably think of creative solutions,” Harry said.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville said and then, he returned his focus to his hungry tulips.

The three Slytherins looked at each other, their looks promising destruction. They didn’t believe the trunks were overturned with accidental magic either. If it had been the cause, the theory might have started with McGonagall or Pomfrey. The only way someone like Ron would be quick to claim “accident” is if it was covering up something worse. He was testing his boundaries, Harry thought, and it needed to be clear how defined the demarcation could be.

Chapter Text

Neville wasn’t an official member of Slytherin, of course; and he’d likely never be an unofficial member either. There were those who accepted Neville because Harry vouched for him and others who were surprised to find that they actually liked Neville Longbottom. The majority of Slytherin, however, were eager to help destroy Ron for entirely different reasons. Some felt Ron deserved it for his behavior towards Slytherins and others liked targeting him for the symbolism of striking out at Gryffindor. One reason to target Ron that they could all agree on was this: Slytherins would not stand by and watch their howler plan lead to Ron having more influence. That was insupportable to the entire house.

After much debate within the Slytherin common room, it was decided that they’d attack Ron where it would hurt the most: his food. Harry, having grown up without guaranteed meals, was loath to use this approach. Others felt the same and when they met each other’s eyes, there was a sense of deep understanding. One girl pointed out the dangers of upsetting those who may struggle with food issues.

So, ideas like sticking Ron’s teeth together, forcing him to consume only liquids, were out. Less contentious ideas like altering the flavor of certain foods were out too. They were looking for the right balance, which was harder to achieve than anyone expected. Eventually, Gemma Fawley came up with the brilliant idea of making his food throw tantrums. Thus, the “hit him where it hurts” plan evolved into the “hit him where it hurts, with his most embarrassing trait” plan. It also had the benefit of flooding the list of potential culprits, since Ron’s biggest tantrum happened in Gryffindor territory.

The next challenge was creating the spell since Gemma’s idea didn’t exist. It became a house project and within a week, they’d done it. They didn’t think hitting Ron with the spell would be a problem. Their concern was that it wouldn’t last long. The odds were high that it could be undone easily, once Madam Pomfrey became involved. When Adrian Pucey recommended casting the spell in another language, a new debate started. They trialled the spell and found that a different Romance language wouldn’t help reach the goal; and any other available language ran the risk of pointing the finger at Slytherin house specifically.

“What if the language used were more niche and obscure?” Theo asked.

“What do you mean? Like mermish?” Gemma Fawley asked. The room was filled with quiet laughter.

“Yes, exactly. Harry, you speak parseltongue, don’t you?” Theo turned to Harry, completely unaware of the problem this might cause. Harry was certain Theo hadn’t heard him hissing. So, he figured Theo’s observational skills led him to conclude that Harry and Howell had too good of a rapport for anything else to make sense. Theo was in academic mode and had never been told to keep that observation a secret. He wasn’t a blabbermouth. Far from it but he was better at keeping secrets that he’d been specifically told to keep secret. So, Harry couldn’t bring himself to get upset.

“Oh, Merlin! Do you?!” Pansy asked excitedly. “That would be amazing!”

Harry looked at the room of people, trying to gauge their reactions. They were Slytherins. So, of course, his assessment yielded minimal results. This was a room full of people whose families had at least flirted with the idea of joining Voldemort, for one reason or another. Harry felt this was a defining moment and he refused to plant the tiniest seed of doubt about his feelings for the vilified language. He wasn’t ashamed of it and he didn’t want them to think that he was. “Yes, Theo, I do speak parseltongue.”

Theo nodded and turned his focus to Gemma. “Fawley, what do you think? Would parseltongue be both difficult to discover and reverse?” Theo seemed oblivious to the feelings of shock within the room.

Gemma, stunned, delayed a bit but quickly snapped out of it. “It’s probable but I’d like to test it.” There was a pause as the occupants of the room decided how to proceed.

“Then, let’s test it,” said Elizabeth Selwyn, a seventh year student.

Harry thought of her as one of the quieter ones but he had taken care to acknowledge her whenever he spotted her alone. Now, he was learning that her opinion carried a lot of weight in the house because her words broke the spell that the parseltongue news had cast over the room. The Slytherins came alive and turned their attention to the impromptu testing right there in the common room. Theo had well and truly outed Harry and he had no idea what he’d done.

“There’s still the problem of the priori incantato,” Riel Nolan said.

“Yes, Dumbledore already pulls him into meetings too much as it is. This will be a perfect excuse,” Adrian Pucey said.

“We could teach him how to clear it,” someone Harry couldn’t see suggested.

“There might not be time afterward.”

“Too suspicious too.”

“Just let him use someone else’s wand.” That overly casual suggestion came from Marcus Flint. “Don’t look at me like that. I know the convention but come on, we’ve come too far to just let this experiment die. We should not risk Harry being pulled into a meeting soon after.”

“Try my wand, Harry,” Gregory Goyle suggested. “No one will suspect I helped.” Harry couldn’t help it. He was touched.

Harry tried 5 other wands, all belonging to students who, like Greg, had volunteered and would not be associated with him. It was decided he would use Miriam Capp’s wand. She was a fourth year student who often skipped breakfast in favor of “easing into her day”. Harry would cast the spell on Ron at some point before or during breakfast. Then, he’d leave the wand on the bench for Miriam’s friend to collect and return to Miriam, who would simply wait in the Slytherin common room. No one would ever suspect her involvement.

———

At breakfast, three days later, despite all of their anticipation, the plan was pulled off without a hitch. The Slytherins calmly ate, fighting every urge to look at the Gryffindor table. Then, it began. The hall’s silence was like a wave. When it finally reached the Slytherin table, all anyone could hear were the squeaky tantrums coming from the food on Ron’s plate.

“No! I don’t want to be eaten!”

“Not this day!”

“It’s not fair!”

“You always choose bacon over eggs! It’s discrimination!”

“Crispy is better!”

“Take that, you big bully,” said a strawberry throwing itself at Ron’s face.

The reactions of the hall were a mixture of disbelief and glee. The Slytherins tried not to look smug. They mostly succeeded, Harry thought, but Snape was eyeing them with suspicion.

“Silence!” Dumbledore shouted and to emphasize the point, clapped his hands, emitting red sparks. “Whoever has done this, please undo it or you will face severe consequences when you are discovered.”

McGonagall walked to the Gryffindor table to check on Ron. She was not able to cancel the magic; so, she focused on making sure Ron could still consume food. When he successfully put a forkful in his mouth, there were tiny little screams slowly going quiet. The remaining food did not take that lightly.

“You monster!”

The Slytherins were intrigued. That had not occurred during the trials.

“Boys, is this your work?” McGonagall asked the Weasley twins, who were grinning maniacally.

“No, Professor, but it’s brilliant,” they said brightly and in unison. She knew them well enough to believe them.

“Very well, come along, Mr. Weasley. Let’s take you to see Madam Pomfrey.” Ron stood up, looking forlornly at his abandoned meal. Dumbledore looked deranged, as far as Harry was concerned. Then, he turned to whisper something in Snape’s ear before leaving the hall. The Slytherin Head of House then looked at Harry, who offered a small smile before resuming his meal.

Harry was finishing his meal when Snape approached. “Mr. Potter, it’s time for another meeting with the headmaster.” Then Snape looked at Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, please inform Professor Flitwick that Mr. Potter will not be attending class today and that you need to leave early. Come to my office when you are satisfied with what you have learned from today’s lesson. You are tasked with bringing Mr. Potter up to speed. So, do not use this as an excuse to skip the lesson.”

Draco nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.” Then, Draco gave Harry an inquiring look before Harry nodded and walked away from the table. As Harry and Snape ascended the first flight of stairs, Howell poked his head out of Harry’s robes.

“Professor Snape, do you like snakes?” Snape gave Harry an unimpressed glare. “I mean real ones, sir.” Harry looked as if he was holding Howell still and Snape stopped to look at the snake.

“Is he considering biting me?”

Harry chuckled. “No, but he seems eager to greet you. Will you allow it?” In answer, Snape held out his left arm and Howell made his move. “Just don’t freak out when he gets closer to your skin. He is not shy about finding the warmth he needs.” Snape’s eyes widened fractionally but Harry ignored it. They continued the rest of the way in companionable silence. Howell occasionally hissed something but the sounds of students walking the halls prevented Harry from making them out.

When they arrived at the gargoyle, McGonagall was waiting for them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Do we know what this meeting is regarding?”

“I believe the headmaster wishes to ask Mr. Potter about Mr. Weasley’s affliction,” Snape said.

“Ah,” McGonagall offered, “I suppose you’ll hear my update when we get upstairs.”

The headmaster greeted them with a grave tone, as Snape set up the recording device. “Come in, everyone. There’s much to discuss. Minerva, what has Poppy discovered about Mr. Weasley’s condition?”

“She’s determined that whatever is happening affects Mr. Weasley, not his food. She had the elves bring various options. Soup seems to be the least vocal. Poppy confirmed that Mr. Weasley was still able to eat and absorb nutrients from his food. So, he is otherwise well.”

“She is not able to counter the effects, then?”

“No, she will put in a request for a specialist from St. Mungo’s but it won’t be a high priority for them,” McGonagall said. “The theory is that this is experimental magic and so, the usual protocols may not apply.”

Dumbledore kept an eye on Harry as McGonagall talked, searching for any sign of his involvement. “What do you have to say about this, Mr. Potter?” Harry looked at Dumbledore, perplexed, but he said nothing. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley is yet again in the infirmary and you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?” Harry said nothing. “I require your input, Mr. Potter.”

“Albus,” McGonagall warned.

“Headmaster, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harry said, sounding more like an 11-year-old than Snape had ever heard him.

“I want you to explain how you managed to torment Mr. Weasley yet again,” Dumbledore said.

“Albus,” McGonagall interjected, “‘torment’? That is a poor word choice. And what proof do you even have that Mr. Potter had anything to do with this? He is 11 years old. I doubt he does more than practice magic. What happened to Mr. Weasley indicates experimentation with spell creation.”

“Mr. Potter has proven himself to be an intelligent young man, eager to learn and quick to master. Look how quickly he learned priori incantato, Severus,” Dumbledore pressed. Snape lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. “Furthermore, he is the only one holding such a grudge against Mr. Weasley.”

“You are incorrect, Albus. Mr. Weasley has irritated and upset many people. They can be found in his own house as well. Any number of students could be considered for something like this and if they worked together, the search for someone to blame becomes even more complex.”

“Are you suggesting we do nothing, Minerva?” Dumbledore’s tone was haughty, for some reason. To Harry’s surprise, McGonagall rolled her eyes.

“Of course not,” she said. “I simply suggest you not jump to conclusions and single out any one student or house for that matter. Decide on an approach and apply it equally.”

“Very well. Mr. Potter, show me your wand’s casting history,” Dumbledore said. Harry did and of course, nothing was found.

“And who else’s wands will you be checking?” McGonagall asked.

“Everyone who is known to have an issue with Mr. Weasley. I’ll require a list of persons from you, Minerva, since you seem more informed on the matter, as well as Mr. Weasley.”

“Very well but I warn you now, Albus, that I will not allow Mr. Weasley, or anyone else,” she gave Dumbledore a warning look, “to add all of Slytherin house to the list.” Dumbledore reluctantly nodded and the meeting came to an end.

As they reached the fourth floor, McGonagall broke the silence. “Mr. Potter, I want to apologize on behalf of Hogwarts for the headmaster’s behavior of late. Please let your guardian know that should they require my assistance, I will endeavor to do what I can. You may, of course, come to me yourself but I think it best to keep Professor Snape as your first point of contact. We would not want the headmaster to think you are undermining him by coming primarily to me.”

“I will tell them, Mistress. Thank you.” McGonagall nodded and walked away from them.

“It is most unfortunate, Mr. Potter, that our meeting was delayed,” Snape said.

“Yes, sir. My detention with Filch was scheduled for the same day as your office hours.”

“An inconvenient coincidence, to be sure. What were you tasked with doing?”

“I mostly helped Hagrid with his garden, sir.”

“Was Mr. Weasley assigned the same task?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he disturb you?”

“He tried but since he was ‘upsetting the pumpkins’, as Hagrid put it, he was tasked with collecting firewood.” Harry paused but continued when the silence lingered. “Then, when we were feeding the thestrals, Ron started complaining about them being dangerous and implied that my reptilian nature was why I got along with them. I think he was just scared because he couldn’t see them. Fear of the unknown is a biggie, after all.”

“What did you make of the thestrals?” Snape asked.

“They were ethereally beautiful, I thought. They sure love their red meat,” Harry said, smiling at the memory of a young thestral nuzzling his hand in disbelief that there was no more to give. Harry didn’t notice the look that flitted across Snape’s face. “Do you really think they’re visible only to those who have seen death? Or do you think it’s more linked to grief? I hope more people can see them, like those who are open to seeing that side of life, you know? They deserve to be seen.” Snape did not respond and the boy didn’t seem to mind at all.

Chapter Text

Draco was waiting in the potions classroom when they arrived. Serafina was with him and Harry wondered how they’d gotten inside. He figured it was best not to ask, though, since Snape wasn’t surprised. Harry knew the professor was close to the Malfoys. So, classroom access might just be a perk of the relationship.

“Come through to my office,” Snape said.

“Uh, Professor Snape, why is Howell with you?” Draco asked and in response, Snape looked at Harry.

“Howell seemed intrigued,” Harry said simply.

Snape hummed. “Indeed.” When the professor sat down, Howell slithered onto the desk. Snape thoughtfully conjured a bowl of fire and Howell curled up beside it. Draco and Harry looked at each other in a way that clearly communicated, “We have to learn that one!” Snape smiled fondly but it passed before the two boys could see the expression.

Snape waved his wand again and Harry felt a shift in the air around them. Noticing Harry’s reaction, the professor said, “Privacy wards, Mr. Potter, as well as one to alert me of approaching visitors.” Serafina climbed into Draco’s lap and as he began to stroke her, she purred. “Would either of you like a beverage or a snack of some kind?”

“I’d love a steak pasty. Is that possible, sir?”

“Let us see. Mick,” Snape called and a stoic-looking house elf appeared. “Are you able to acquire some steak pasties?” Mick looked at Snape like he was asking a dumb question. “If so, please bring several and an assortment of refreshments for three.” Mick nodded and disappeared. Snape turned to the boys and said, “He doesn’t say much. I like that about him.”

“He seems to get his point across,” Harry said with a smile. Just then, Mick appeared with the requested items.

“Indeed,” Mick said and Harry chuckled.

“Thanks, Mick,” Harry said, “these look great. I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.” Mick acknowledged Harry with a nod and again, he was gone. “Yum,” Harry said as he happily began to plate his food.

“Mr. Potter, you are unexpectedly exuberant since leaving the headmaster’s office,” Snape said and Harry smiled around a mouthful of food. The professor turned to Draco who was quietly sipping tea and nibbling on a biscuit.

Draco looked at Harry, assessingly, and shrugged. “He’s in a good mood. Did the meeting go well, then?” Harry nodded. “That’s good.”

“About that meeting, do either of you know what ails Mr. Weasley?” Both boys looked at him curiously. Snape hummed. “What if I were to say that anything you reveal during this meeting will stay within these walls?”

Harry cleared his throat, wiped his mouth, and reached for a glass of water. “About that, what assurances can you offer that what we reveal today will never reach Dumbledore’s ears?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” the professor corrected automatically. Harry gave him a skeptical look. Snape ignored the silent communication, saying simply, “If my word is not good enough, then perhaps there is nothing to discuss.” The menace smiled. He seemed eager.

“I am not in the habit of trusting easily, Professor, but my main problem is not the earnestness of your word. It’s your lack of freedom,” Harry said, staring directly into Snape’s eyes. Snape held his gaze for a moment and then glanced at Draco. “Draco knows that if this meeting goes as we hope, he’ll learn more of what he has wanted to know. And I’m not worried about who he’ll tell.”

“You trust him that much? You seek promises from an adult who can manage themselves far better than a child,” Snape said unimpressedly. He was testing the boy, which surprised him. Snape had only planned to get a better sense of him and ask a few questions. He wondered how much he was influenced by his conversations with Narcissa and how much was the boy himself.

Harry sighed and pulled off his headscarf. He shook out and ruffled his hair and said, with determination in his verdant eyes. “What if I ask you to not ‘get all Snapey’ with me?”

Snape’s chest clenched and he forced himself not to drift into memory. If the boy was testing him too, his method was far more effective. It was just one red section of hair, for Merlin’s sake but, Snape thought, it was enough. “I thought I heard you say that before… I’ve not seen your hair this close.” Harry smirked and Snape understood perfectly that it had been deliberate.

“I could’ve taken off my glasses too but I’m not interested in overwhelming you,” Harry said knowingly.

Draco looked between the two. From the look on his godson’s face, he had no idea what was going on and Snape found himself mildly comforted by the boy’s ignorance.

“Now, this is already a memory that would give Dumbledore much to consider. So, what sort of guarantee are you offering?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Relax. I’m not looking for an unbreakable vow or anything extreme. I just know that Dumbledore practically owns you and I want to make sure that even if forced, you cannot reveal anything that would compromise me.”

Practically owns you… The menace is direct, Snape thought. He did not know how the boy had reached that conclusion. It all depended on rumor, research, and interpretation. There was enough openly known to come to that decision. So, even if it was surprising to hear it from someone so young, Snape didn’t feel the need to question the reasoning behind it. He inhaled deeply. It unsettled him how this boy seemed to know him. Yet, Snape could not sense ill will. That unnerved him more. He should hate me, Snape thought. Despite the logical reasons not to, Snape chose to proceed.

“There is a bond of trust, simple yet effective. We clasp each other’s forearms and I make my promise. It doesn’t require a witness but a witness strengthens it.”

“Then, it’s a cool thing we have three,” Harry said cheerfully.

Snape looked around and noticed both Howell and Serafina had opened their eyes. A shiver of unease rushed down his spine.

“I mean you no harm, Professor.”

Snape scoffed and sarcastically said, “Would you promise it?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said.

“Don’t,” Snape said.

There was a hint of something in his voice that made Harry sad. “I mean it, sir.”

“And you say you don’t trust easily,” Snape said.

Harry grinned wickedly. “I don’t.”

“Let’s get on with this,” Snape pushed on.

He explained the bond and confirmed that it satisfied the boy’s expectations. Then they clasped each other’s forearms and Snape made his pledge. Magic glowed along their arms and when it subsided, Harry used his arm to gently turn Snape’s left arm. The professor tensed.

“I’d like to study it sometime if you’d allow. Howell said he heard quiet hissing coming from the D-mark.”

“The ‘D-mark,’ Mr. Potter?” Snape drawled.

“I don’t like saying ‘the Dark Mark,’” Harry said.

“The D-mark,” Draco repeated under his breath and shook his head disbelievingly. Harry thought it was a stupid name that forced everyone to inflate ordinary words. When Theo had pointed out that Harry hadn’t expressed a problem with “the Great Hall,” Harry had laughed and said, “It doesn’t mean I don’t think that’s dumb too. But no one is going around scared to say the words ‘great’ or ‘hall.’” After that, the Slytherins left him to it. “It’s fine, sir. No one is hounding Harry with talk about the Dark Lord and by now, his casualness is well known.”

Snape nodded and asked, “What do you mean by ‘Howell said’?” The boys didn’t know yet that he was aware of Harry’s parseltongue ability. Narcissa had told him to find another way of explaining how he knew and here was the perfect opportunity.

“He’s a parselmouth,” Draco said excitedly. “All of Slytherin knows. Theo outed him when we were coming up with how to target Weasley.” Draco put down his tea and revved up. “Uncle, you’d have been so proud. The whole house was working together. Even the 7th-years contributed.”

“Will this blow back on the house?” Snape asked but internally, he marveled at how united the house seemed. All of Slytherin knows… and word had not reached him. He suddenly found himself with an even better reason for obscuring the source of his knowledge. He would not want the house to suspect betrayal from within. Snape looked at the boys with fresher eyes. So much more was changing within Slytherin than even he had realized.

“No,” they both said.

Much too quickly, Snape thought. “Since ‘all of Slytherin knows,’ I would like for you to let them know that I know.”

Harry looked thoughtful and nodded. “Of course. That makes sense…”

“We planned well, Uncle Severus. You could walk into the common room and check everyone’s wand right now and you’d find nothing.” Draco grinned as widely as Snape had ever seen.

“Whose wand did you use?” The boys looked at him as if to say, Do we look stupid? Snape nodded, inwardly pleased. “In case this affliction has far-reaching consequences, may I ask if parseltongue was used?”

“Yes,” they said together.

Harry continued, “You’d have guessed that, though. It shouldn’t be detectable. If it is, I’ll figure something out.”

Snape was less pleased with the flippancy of Harry’s final sentence but there were more important things to cover. “Originally, I requested this meeting to discuss your interactions with Headmaster Dumbledore, Mr. Potter. On the day you avoided admitting where you purchased your wand, I decided it was time to meet. Before then, I was unconvinced that your distrust of Dumbledore ran deeper than general suspicion of authority. Something about that meeting caused me to believe it does.”

“It does,” Harry admitted.

“Why are you so distrustful of the headmaster?”

Harry looked at Draco, consideringly, and he reached for his hand. “Draco, I promise I did the best I could to not lie to you.”

Draco smiled. “I know that. Go on and tell your story so that I can fill in some blanks.”

Harry chuckled, released his friend’s hand, and turned back to Snape. “Professor Snape, I distrust the headmaster because I hold him responsible for both the death of my parents and the poor quality of life I had to experience afterward.” Snape tried to interrupt but Harry held up a hand. “No, listen. Listen carefully. I remember my first years of life, Professor Snape. I remember you too.” Harry paused and waited patiently for Snape to respond.

Snape found the boy’s look too steady. He thought the boy seemed more sophisticated than he had felt at that age. There was so much more to the boy’s story… and if he remembered… Snape stood up and gestured for Harry to continue. He paced slowly as he listened.

“After my mother forgave you, she insisted you meet me. You were reluctant to hold me but when you did, I burrowed into your chest. My mother teased you and you smiled down at me, saying, ‘I suppose he seems less dimwitted than his father.’” Snape stopped pacing and stared at Harry, feeling utterly exposed. “I have no reason to lie to you. And like my mother, I do not blame you for your involvement in what happened. I saw how broken you looked when you found her dead…” Harry paused. “I started to cry more loudly and you reached for me… but there was a noise… and you went to investigate.” Harry shook his head. “You didn’t return.”

“Someone arrived,” Snape said quietly.

Harry nodded. “Hagrid. He was tasked with bringing me to the Dursleys… When we were outside the house, Sirius arrived.” Snape sneered and Harry held up a hand. “Please, try to listen without your bias.” Snape’s sneer settled and he stayed quiet. “Sirius tried to take me from him but Hagrid wouldn’t even let him hold me. I was screaming and reaching for him but Hagrid would not let me go. Hagrid just kept saying that Dumbledore needed him to take me to him…” Harry said the last sentence angrily. The buffoon hadn’t even taken him to Dumbledore! What harm would it have caused to allow Sirius to hold him? That meddling, hoary asshole had upended his entire world… again! His parents could have hidden in their first-

“Harry,” Draco said softly. Harry blinked, turned to Draco, and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that. As I was saying… Now that I’ve met Hagrid, I don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into but for years, I hated him. I would dream about what life would’ve been like… if only I’d have been allowed to go with Sirius.” Harry smiled sadly. “I didn’t know he’d ended up in Azkaban and before you say it’s where he belongs, know this: I do not believe he betrayed my parents.”

Snape looked like he’d just been slapped. “He was the secret keeper, Mr. Potter.”

“Says who? Dumbledore? Was he even there when the spell was cast?” Harry allowed a moment for that to sink in. “He involves himself in things that should not concern him. His thoughts and opinions should not be taken as fact. Even viewpoints from the almighty Dumbledore should be verified. I wouldn’t care if he were the second coming of Merlin, as so many seem to think. Nobody else’s thoughts should replace anyone’s own thoughts. At least not as a matter of course.” Harry looked at Snape and Draco in turn. The first was unreadable and the latter was wide-eyed. “I’m not used to talking about this… Look, I don’t yet know how the fidelius charm works exactly but I know Sirius. He’d never intentionally hurt me.”

“People change,” Snape said.

Harry snorted. “Not like that, they don’t. Sirius loved me and my parents. He was devastated, sir.”

The boy left off the, “just like you,” but Snape felt like he heard it all the same. “He killed…” The potions professor cut himself off.

Harry chose to take that as a good sign. “I’m not saying Sirius Black is an angel. I’m saying there’s no way he revealed our location. I won’t buy it without proof. Actual, undeniable proof. Fuck Albus Dumbledore.”

Snape blinked once but could not find the words. This was so much more than distrust… Harry Potter loathed Albus Dumbledore. Snape wished he could laugh. It seemed absurd. In what world did the “Savior of the Wizarding World” hate the “Leader of the Light.” He knew things weren’t ideal but still, he felt rocked by the revelation. Snape knew from personal experience how capable 11-year-olds were of hate… But this boy’s feelings weren’t immature or unstable. Harry Potter knew where he stood on this matter and nothing would change his position, least of all the headmaster.

“There wasn’t a trial,” Draco contributed. “Mother was always upset about that but Father warned that if she went looking, too much attention would fall on the family.”

“Well, I’m more concerned with Mr. Chief Warlock. Was he seriously not in a position to push for a trial? A thorough investigation? I don’t believe that for a second.” Harry looked at Snape. “I have a lot of reasons not to trust Dumbledore, Professor Snape. Do you know that I didn’t have a magical guardian until after I received my Hogwarts letter?” Snape looked pensive. “All I had were the magic-averse Dursleys. Muggles were allowed to know about my magic but I was expected to be ignorant.

“If I had walked into this castle without a magical guardian, the headmaster would’ve been automatically assigned. I think Dumbledore was counting on that. I think that instead of finding me a suitable magical guardian, he’d have pretended that I needed special attention only he could provide. He wants me under his control and that’s why he is so determined to discover and undermine my magical guardian,” Harry said passionately, his heart beating rapidly. He hadn’t expected to get so worked up but in a way, he found it liberating. Harry fell silent, enjoying the relief as Snape and Draco processed what he’d said.

“You won’t say who it is but you know, don’t you?” Snape asked. Harry nodded.

“I knew you knew!” Draco shouted triumphantly.

“You don’t look him in the eyes,” Snape stated contemplatively, and Harry shook his head. “And you never allow yourself to be alone with him, not even in passing. Your owl isn’t in the owlery.” Harry raised an eyebrow and Snape waved him off. “Dumbledore checked. I told him your owl was probably as comfortable in the air as you appear to be.”

“Midha has a nook in the wall of our dorm,” Draco said, as he absently stroked Serafina. Snape looked at Harry, who shrugged.

“The nook was there when I arrived. Midha made it her home. Plus, she likes to be near Howell. They were friends before they met me.”

“No one minds, Uncle Severus,” Draco said. Then, he giggled. “Well, some of the other owls mind. Pansy’s owl was clawing at the wall, trying to get her own nook. But she’d never be happy there and she’s too big to get around without help. Midha always finds a way out, when she wants.”

“Tell me, Mr. Potter, what do you think of Professor Quirrell?” Snape enquired.

Harry blinked, a bit thrown by the topic change, but he didn’t mind. He looked at Draco, as he considered what to say, and turned back to focus on Snape. “I think there’s something off with that guy and Howell says there’s a weird smell under all the garlic. Professor Quirrell doesn’t like having Howell in the class, says he worries he’ll get hurt but…” Harry looked at Draco, who nodded encouragingly. “I think I heard a second voice coming from his head.”

Snape returned to his desk chair, his mind heavy. The boys waited for their professor to speak. “Against my better judgment, I would like to hear more of your assessment. I am only doing this because your insight is more than I’ve had to go on. The headmaster keeps dismissing my observations. But I do not want you to get involved. It is the job of the professors to keep the students safe. Come to me if you have other concerns in the future. The promise I made covers more than this meeting and you know it.” Harry and Draco exchanged looks and nodded.

So, Harry and Draco told Snape about Quirrell’s odd stares in Harry’s direction and how he doesn’t always stutter. Harry had witnessed more of the DADA professor’s bizarre behavior but would not elaborate on where or how he had made his observations. Draco rightly assumed it had to do with Harry’s nighttime walks. Neither Slytherin pushed for more than he was willing to give, for which Harry was thankful.

“I haven’t heard the second voice a lot. At first, it seemed like he was just talking to himself and I thought maybe he wasn’t stuttering because he doesn’t make himself nervous, you know? The second voice was too subtle to make out but I heard Professor Quirrell say…” Harry paused and looked like he was searching for the right words. “Well, I thought I heard him say, ‘Yes, Master,’ and one time, he shook like he was zapped… not like an electrocution but more than static… Does that make any sense?”

Draco made a mental note to learn more about “electrocution.” Snape looked pale. “I will show you my mark.” Snape’s voice was just above a whisper. Harry and Draco watched as Snape lifted the sleeve of his left arm. Draco sat back, surprised Snape was doing this, and Harry leaned forward.

“May I?” Harry asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. Snape nodded once. Harry held Snape’s arm, just above the wrist, as he moved it gently back and forth. Howell slithered closer and started hissing at Harry. Harry hissed back and Snape’s arm started to feel odd.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked.

Harry looked at him, curiously. “We’re just talking. Why? Did you feel something? Howell says he thinks something is moving in there. Do you know how this mark was placed on you?”

“I was present, Mr. Potter,” Snape said and Harry waited for a more serious answer. “The Dark Lord excelled at wordless magic but I’ve investigated, researched… I do believe I know, yes.”

“Were you trying to figure out how to remove it, Uncle?” Draco asked softly.

“Yes. I thought I might have found a way… There is a spell… but it didn't work. It’s likely too simplistic.”

After a moment of silence, Draco stood up resolutely and whipped his head around the room. “Where is it? Show us!”

“Draco,” Snape said warningly but he felt disturbingly obliged to share the information. He exhaled audibly and said, “It’s in that corner, under the second floorboard. The password is: Libertad.” Snape heard Harry murmur, “Freedom.”

Draco located the spell, with Snape’s guidance, and showed it to Harry. “If you say it in parseltongue…” Draco suggested excitedly.

Harry released Snape’s arm to review the parchment. He didn’t understand much. There were passages in different languages and elaborate diagrams. It felt significant, though. The goblins would be interested, he thought. Harry could, however, see the evolution of the spell. It all began with Voldemort considering his followers as his slaves. Snape had worked hard to understand. Alongside his efforts, even his doubts showed. In the margins, he read things like, “Combination of three spells? Tattoo, Slave, Ground.” Harry could see why Snape figured it was too simple… but really, weren’t all bullies arrogant? Voldemort especially thought himself supremely special… Well, those assholes could fuck off!

“I think there’s a good chance that the solution is as simple as it seems. I would like to try. Will you allow it?”

“Just like that?”

Harry smiled. “Just like that. I don’t claim to understand much of what you have here. But it’s three words and I’m willing. I see your surprise here,” Harry pointed to a small note in the margins, “that the spell isn’t dark.” He then found another note to highlight what he said next. “Here is where you make sure there’s ‘no silly wand waving’. I imagine that was to ensure you could do it to yourself, and see it through, no matter how the experience challenged you.”

“Let me see,” Draco said as he took back the parchment.

Snape stared at Harry. The boy looked patient and understanding. Then, he said, “If it works, there’s no going back. Do you want to do this?”

“‘Pain,’” Draco whispered, having found the note about that expectation. “This is going to hurt?”

“A lot,” Harry said, his eyes never leaving Snape’s.

Snape warred with himself. He didn’t understand why he was so conflicted. Had he not long ago accepted that it was his responsibility to use this mark “for the greater good”? He felt a bubbling sense of hope despite all he thought he knew to be true and reluctantly came to terms with. Logically, he knew he should not be discussing such serious matters with students. Children! Why was he feeling drawn to this course? Looking at the Dark Mark… the D-mark, Harry had called it… he felt disgust, sadness, and pain… Snape gingerly pulled down his sleeve. The two younger Slytherins tried their best not to react.

“I must tell you something, Mr. Potter. Before you were born, there was a prophecy-”

Harry cut Snape off. “Yes, yes. The power to vanquish the Dark Lord, blah, blah, blah,” Harry dismissed. “Do you want to try removing the D-mark? That’s the only thing that matters right now. That’s how I see it.” Harry looked to Draco who was nodding forcefully.

“I think the pain is worth it,” Draco said. “Well, if it works…”

Blah, blah, blah?… If it works… “You know the prophecy?” Snape asked dazedly.

“I know enough of the prophecy,” Harry said and tapped his head.

Memories… “But, I don’t…” Snape felt strange. The conversation was entirely different from what he’d imagined. Something stirred within him, urging him to reach…

“For fuck’s sake, Uncle Severus, can we talk about this later, please? Harry does not blame you. Take the win and give him your arm. Merlin! All this drama and it may not even work. Throw yourself a pity party later, won’t you?!” Draco shouted.

Snape looked taken aback but said nothing. And Harry did a great job of keeping his face blank. He did, however, hold out his hand. Snape extended his arm and nodded. Then, he yanked it back. Harry narrowed his eyes. It was a clear indication of his opinion on the matter.

“Wards,” Snape said quickly and waved his wand. “I can’t believe I’m allowing this…”

Harry looked at the mark. It was pale but still clear enough. There was no mistaking it for a birthmark or burn. It was a very faded tattoo with nearly inaudible hissing abilities.

~“What’s it saying, Howell?”~

~“It doesn’t say anything. It’s repetitive, nonsensical hissing. Try to engage it in conversation.”~

~“I’d rather not. Let’s try the spell first.”~

Harry looked at the parchment and checked the pronunciation with Snape. Then, he focused on Howell and got a steady stream of parseltongue going before focusing on the mark. Harry spoke the words, ~“Ancora servile dimittere,”~ and watched the tattooed snake squirm. The spell became a chant, magic guiding him. Harry repeated the words, infusing his speech with more intention and conviction. You will leave him!

Harry didn’t know how long it took but eventually, the image leapt out of Snape's skin. The ghostly imprint hovered in the air and its snake wriggled as if in pain. Harry kept chanting, not knowing what else to do. His part felt over but the sight of the resisting residue unsettled him. Fortunately, Snape took action. He raised his wand and cast a spell that encased the remnants and Harry immediately felt better. However, he didn’t stop the hissing.

“You can stop now, Harry,” Draco soothed and Harry sagged with relief. “What will you do with it, Uncle?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t trust vanishing it and I don’t think it’s wise to study it. It was in me for so long. It might be inclined to reattach.”

“Gringotts,” Harry rasped and Draco poured him a fresh glass of water. Harry gratefully took a sip and cleared his throat to try again. “Gringotts. Get it to Gringotts. Ask for Madam Medallion. She’ll know what to do.”

“Mr. Potter?”

“Please, sir, trust me. This scar,” Harry pointed to his forehead, “has something in it too. If the goblins can figure it out, maybe they can help me be free as well.” Harry chuckled at the sight of Snape’s astonishment. “Chin up, sir. We freed you from one tyrant. Just one more to go!”

Draco smacked Harry on his arm. “Don’t joke! You scared me.” Harry laughed louder.

“Get him back into his chair, Draco. I believe he’s overexerted himself.” Harry looked around. He hadn’t realized he’d stood up. “Mr. Potter, I have a potion that will help. May I scan you first?” Harry nodded and watched as his fellow Slytherins looked after his needs.

By the time Harry had recovered, he’d eaten 5 of the chocolate biscuits that Draco had given him. “I’m not much for sweets but I could eat even more of these. Does intense magic always give you cravings?”

Snape, more peacefully than Harry had thought him capable of, answered. “It’s not a craving for sweets, in particular, Mr. Potter. However, chocolate has restorative properties, especially for those who have expended a lot of magic. I’d recommend you eat more chocolate throughout the day. Draco?” Snape said, now looking at his godson. “Do you have some of your favorite bonbons?”

Draco frowned. “Yes, but Harry has refused to try them.”

“Well, today is the day. Mr. Potter, eat bonbons,” Snape commanded and Harry mock-saluted.

“Will do, sir.”

“Now, I’m afraid I must bring this meeting to a close. I did not expect it to be so involved and I apologize for not being able to give you more time to recover. Rest but do not miss your next class.” The boys stood up and Howell hissed.

“Professor Snape, Howell is offering to stay with you. He’s offering you the opportunity to collect some of his venom for testing,” Harry said.

“Indeed?” Snape turned to Howell and the snake bobbed his head. “Very well. Thank you, Howell. I’ll bring him to you tonight, Mr. Potter.” Harry agreed and said goodbye to both Snape and Howell.

Serafina circled Snape once before heading towards the door. “Come along, Wild Girl, it’s time to face the masses,” Harry said and Draco laughed.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said. Harry looked at him with unassuming eyes. “Thank you.”

The boy smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

The boys left Snape with a lot to think about, as he returned the room to how it should be in case the headmaster decided to visit. He was about to return his research of the Dark Mark to the space under the floorboards when he realized its significance for Harry. He made a copy, placing the original in its storage and the duplicate with the mark’s container. Then Snape called for Mick.

“I have an urgent matter for you.” Mick nodded. “First, guard yourself.” The elf snapped his fingers and was now wearing gloves and an apron that seemed to be made of dragon scales. “Bring this receptacle, this research, and this note…” Snape gestured to the parchment he was writing on, “to Madam Medallion at Gringotts. Let no one but her see these items and take care that few see you at all.” Mick squinted at Snape, curious but saying nothing. “Look.” Snape raised the sleeve of his robe to show the now clear skin of his left arm. Mick’s eyes widened and then stared at the container. “That’s what remains.”

“Mr. Potter did this?” Mick asked reverently. Snape did not answer and the elf understood that he could not. The elf smiled.

“Blessings upon his house,” Mick said reverently and Snape nodded solemnly. Then, without another word, the elf disappeared.

Chapter Text

McGonagall’s and Ron’s lists combined became a very long list. There were many students, it seemed, who had cause to target the weasel. Since the Weasley twins were on the list, one could convince themselves that the list was just thorough. However, several students had been undecided about Ron until he put them on the list.

The youngest Weasley in Gryffindor was still expected to attend classes, but he was allowed to eat in the infirmary. He had tried making a joke of his circumstances, forcing himself to eat in the Great Hall, but he didn’t seem to appreciate people’s eagerness to join in the fun.

A loud, “See what the pudding will say!” was heard all the way to the Slytherin table, and half of them laughed quietly. They weren’t known for being an expressive house, and they wouldn’t ruin that image over Ron Weasley’s current predicament.

It also didn’t help Ron’s mood that the investigation took place at meal times. It drew a lot of attention, communicating to the whole school that he was an unlikeable person. Though there was some sense to reviewing wand histories in the Great Hall, Harry had to wonder about Dumbledore’s true aim. The students being questioned were given some privacy, but they were still exposed to intrusive inquiry. Harry reached two conclusions while observing the spectacle: 1) Dumbledore was bad for school morale. 2) The prior-use spell needed to be taught to first-years.

Getting fed up with the display, Ron did the exact opposite of what he should’ve done and attracted even more negative attention. “Why is no one testing Potter?!” he demanded.

“Mr. Weasley, it has been explained to you on more than one occasion. Mr. Potter’s wand was tested first. The headmaster himself witnessed it,” McGonagall said.

“Well, I didn’t see it,” Ron said baldly.

“Are you doubting my word, Mr. Weasley?” McGonagall asked admonitorily. Snickers were heard across the hall. Ron glared at the students nearest to him. He wisely returned his attention to McGonagall with less antagonism.

“I just know he had something to do with it, Professor McGonagall.”

“Mr. Weasley, there is a difference between opinion and fact. Your view of Mr. Potter has been taken into account. I encourage you to let this go.” Ron’s face scrunched up but he kept his mouth shut.

The Weasley twins seemed to take pity on Ron (or McGonagall) as they soon approached. “Come on, Ron. Let’s go find some soup. The creamy ones are the calmest, right?” Ron nodded and he was led back to the Gryffindor table; this time, to the far end.

Back at the Slytherin table, a shy voice asked, “How long do you think it will last?”

“Crabbe? Are you finally going to interact with us?” Draco teased.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Greg Goyle grunted. “Continue, Vince.”

“It’s just that… it hasn’t even been two days and he’s acting like that; how will it be after a week?”

“It is annoying,” Draco said. “I’d hoped we’d be spared his theatrics.”

“I enjoy the theatrics,” Millicent Bulstrode piped up and Harry exchanged a look with Pansy. Like Vince, Millicent hadn’t interacted with them much.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Pansy asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s more fuel for creativity, isn’t it? I bet that’s at least part of the reason why the twins are helping him now. I know he’s their brother but as much as they love pranks, they’re definitely studying the effects. They’ll likely have a new creation by year's end,” Millicent said.

“I can see that… like maybe they’ll create a sweet that causes this effect temporarily…” Harry glanced in the direction of the Weasley brothers.

“In answer to your original question, Vincent, I have no idea how long it will last. Anyone want to make a guess?” Draco asked.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Daphne stated, as she pulled out parchment and a quill. “If we are guessing, we’re betting.”

“Yup, those are the rules.” Blaise pulled out a leather coin purse from his cloak. “I bet 4 galleons: one week, two days.” Daphne wrote it down as Blaise put his money in the purse.

“Anyone else?” Daphne looked up.

“I think this should have waited for the common room,” Greg said.

“Absolutely not. Drawing attention is how we pull in bets from other houses.” Pansy winked and Greg blushed.

Draco leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “You’ll have to bet too. If not, it’ll look more suspicious than if you do.”

“If I do and I’m right?”

“Don’t be right. Guess something absurd… like Yule.” Harry laughed.

“Nice one, Harry,” Pansy said sincerely. “People are looking over already.”

Oops, Harry thought and Draco chuckled.

———

By the time October 31st rolled around, Ron was still eating meals in the infirmary, and Dumbledore had failed to prevent Neville’s re-sort. The headmaster had speciously delayed the event and angered Augusta Longbottom in the process. Neville’s gran was not someone to cross, especially when it involved her grandson. She did not hesitate to make her feelings known and quickly found sympathetic ears. Other influential guardians and parents supported her by writing to the headmaster and the heads of house. When that appeared to be insufficient, disillusioned parents threatened to raise awareness of the headmaster’s obstruction by contacting the Ministry and the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore finally understood “the urgency” and apologized “for any misunderstanding.” The feast would now include the option to re-sort for any student wishing to participate.

“Oi Potter!”

That’s Ron because of course... Harry kept walking.

“Potter! I’m talking to you.” Ron rushed forward and grabbed Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned around and hit Ron’s chest with an open palm. The weasel stumbled back and brought his left hand to his chest, rasping, “What’s wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me, Weasley, is that you keep putting your hands on me,” Harry said icily.

“Well, you wouldn’t turn around,” Ron said angrily.

“I have no desire to engage with you, and I think it’s beyond time for you to accept it.” Harry turned around and kept walking.

“He’s never gonna learn, is he?” Blaise asked.

“It seems not. And now that Harry has ‘retaliated,’ Dumbledore is sure to call Harry into his office,” Draco said. “Please take Serafina with you this time, Harry. I have a bad feeling about today. I feel like you might explode.” Harry nodded curtly.

“You do realize that taking a cat to a meeting is a classic villain move,” Daphne said lightly.

“How is that helping?” Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Knowing how one is perceived matters, Draco. I didn’t say he shouldn’t take Serafina. The contrast between purpose and perception is interesting. That’s all,” Daphne defended.

Draco rolled his eyes and focused on Harry. “Serafina will go with you, Harry.” Harry nodded and patted Draco’s shoulder.

———-

The Slytherins were relaxing in the common room, looking forward to the feast, and talking about the Samhain activities that they wished were more supported at the school. There were many, and most were so simple that Harry had to wonder at the idiocy of anyone who would be offended by them. Harry was particularly interested in the bonfires. The grounds of Hogwarts practically begged for such an event, and it seemed like a perfect way to bring the school together.

Even though they had expected it, the first-years near Harry groaned when Snape entered the room. Their head of house wasn’t the most expressive, but they all understood why he was there.

“He wants a meeting?” Harry confirmed. Snape nodded and he stood up. “Come along, Wild Girl. Weigh me down if it feels like I’m gonna pounce.”

Snape led Harry out of the common room before asking, “Are you truly concerned you’ll lose your temper?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “This day usually has me on edge. I didn’t always know why but I eventually figured it out.”

“I too find this date challenging. For me, it helps to remember that Samhain brings with it other reasons for the unease. Perhaps you could take this opportunity to acknowledge your parents, in a way that feels natural to you. I’m sure your fellow Slytherins would gladly assist you.”

“We were just talking about some of the customs, actually, but I wasn’t thinking about how they could apply to me. It’s a good idea. I’ll consider it.”

“In many ways, Mr. Potter, you have probably only just begun to process your grief. Until you felt like you could think of them without looking over your shoulder, I imagine you compartmentalized it.”

“You know, professor, sometimes I regret having that second conversation with you,” Harry said cheekily.

Snape hummed. Now that Harry could more comfortably talk to him, the professor made sure to maintain the connection. It was important to Snape that he support Harry’s well-being; and to do that, he decided that he should share information as well. Harry now knew that Snape’s childhood left much to be desired and that he knew his mother, Lily, well before Hogwarts. Harry was delighted to know that Snape understood how awful his Aunt Petunia could be but saddened that her unpleasantness started so young.

When they reached Dumbledore’s office, McGonagall was waiting for them. Unfortunately, she was not alone.

“Minerva,” Snape greeted.

“Severus.”

“Hello, Mistress. I see it’s a different kind of meeting today,” Harry said.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, it would seem that the headmaster is trying a different approach. I am not, however, aware of the details. Let us go up and see, hmm?” McGonagall spoke the password, the gargoyle jumped aside, and the five, including Serafina, ascended. The routine was in progress except this time, Ronald Weasley joined them.

As Snape went through the motions of setting up the recording station, Dumbledore tried to get his attention. Snape continued as if unaware of the headmaster’s intentions. When Snape was done, Dumbledore glared at him.

“Did you not see me gesture to you, Severus?”

“Pardon?”

“We cannot use that sphere today. Mr. Weasley is present, and it would be inappropriate to record a minor without parental consent.”

“Mr. Potter’s guardian will not allow meetings with you to proceed without the use of these devices, Headmaster. So, either Mr. Potter can leave and the device is disabled or Mr. Weasley leaves, and we continue as usual.”

Dumbledore frowned, seemingly deep in thought. “Mr. Weasley, do you think either of your parents would be able to attend this meeting on such short notice?” Before Ron could answer, McGonagall headed towards the fireplace.

“Minerva,” Albus said warningly.

“Albus, let’s just get on with it, shall we?” McGonagall threw floo powder into the fire and called out, “The Burrow.” Garbled voices were heard and after a moment, McGonagall stepped aside to allow both of Ron’s parents to come through. Mrs. Weasley arrived first.

“What’s the matter, Albus? Oh, Ronald!”

Mrs. Weasley rushed towards Ron and started touching his face, moving his head from side to side. Harry imagined she was checking for changes of some kind. She was a bit over-the-top for his taste, but Harry would not deride corporeal, loving parents. Mr. Weasley soon followed and greeted everyone jovially. He seemed “wide-eyed and bushy-tailed,” which sort of pissed Harry off. So, he squatted down to pet Serafina, allowing her purrs to console him.

“Albus, he looks fine. Why did you call us?” Mrs. Weasley looked around the room and spotted Harry, her eyes narrowing. “You! You’re that boy, aren’t you? The one who keeps terrorizing my Ronniekins.” Harry looked at her expressionlessly.

“Mr. Potter, do sit down properly,” Snape said gruffly but conjured a chair for him. Harry stood up and sat down, inwardly grateful, and Serafina jumped up to drape herself across his lap. Her purrs grew louder.

“Mrs. Weasley, please don’t use such language. No one is ‘terrorizing’ anyone,” McGonagall said.

“Oh, Minnie, call me Molly,” Mrs. Weasley said, her tone shifting very quickly.

“For this meeting, it is important to stick to formalities, Mrs. Weasley,” McGonagall said.

Harry kept petting Serafina, and Mr. Weasley seemed to finally notice him. “Oh, Mr. Potter, it’s good to meet you. The twins speak very highly of you. They say-”

Mrs. Weasley interrupted. “The twins have dubitable standards, Arthur. Now, what is this meeting about?”

Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling maximally, replied, “I will get to that, Molly dear; but before we proceed, it’s important that you and Arthur know that there is a recording device present.” Dumbledore gestured to the table supporting said device. “That is why we had to take you and Arthur away from your plans. I thought it inappropriate to have an underage student recorded without parental consent.”

“Well, why is this meeting being recorded? It seems a bit much for a school meeting,” Mrs. Weasley said. Snape then explained how it was a stipulation of Harry’s magical guardian. “Who is this guardian to mistrust Albus Dumbledore?” Mrs. Weasley spoke the headmaster’s name like he was responsible for discovering magic.

“Mr. Potter’s magical guardian has chosen to remain anonymous, Molly,” Dumbledore said. Harry did not like the way the headmaster emphasized “magical.”

“Anonymous?! That’s absurd! Albus, surely you won’t let this stand. It could be anyone! Perhaps whoever it is encourages him to be cruel. What if it’s a Death Eater?” Mrs Weasley was working herself up into a lather and saying exactly what Dumbledore wanted her to say. Harry wasn’t the only one thinking unflatteringly about her intelligence.

“Mrs. Weasley, please let us return to the focus of this meeting. Albus?” McGonagall prompted.

“Yes, yes, Minerva. Let us proceed. I am assuming Arthur and Molly are giving their consent.” Dumbledore turned enquiring eyes on the Weasley adults.

Mr. Weasley agreed easily but Mrs. Weasley huffed a reluctant, “If I must.”

“This meeting regards the boys’ continued fighting. I have asked Mr. Potter repeatedly to leave the youngest Mr. Weasley alone but today, he hit young Ronald in the chest.”

“What?!” Mrs. Weasley wailed. “Albus, you have to do something about this boy! He’s trouble!”

“Molly, please,” Mr. Weasley said, attempting to becalm Mrs. Weasley. “The only one of our boys who has a problem with Mr. Potter is Ron. From what the twins-”

“No! The twins are not the best judges of character, Arthur.”

“Percy-”

“No! Percy is too into his books to notice peril.”

Harry looked at Professor Snape and Mistress McGonagall. Neither seemed interested in this turn of events. Harry took an audible sigh.

“Mr. Potter, do you have something to say?” Dumbledore asked.

“I think this is the last meeting I’ll attend with you, Headmaster.” Mrs. Weasley spluttered, and Harry turned a frigid glare in her direction before looking back at Dumbledore. “Before today, you told me to stop ‘retaliating’ against Ron. The use of that word communicated an awareness that Ron did something to me. Yet, you’ve just presented things to the Weasleys in a way that victimizes Ron.

“I don’t believe you are interested in the facts, Headmaster, and these meetings are wasting everyone’s time. I clearly have a better rapport with the deputy headmistress and my head of house. Frankly, I’m confused as to why the headmaster of a prestigious magical school is so invested in the mundane, day-to-day. In the muggle world, it is often the second in command who is responsible for investigations and punishments. I am beginning to feel singled out; and if that’s not the case, there must be a bias involved that benefits Ron.”

“Mr. Potter, your attitude continues to disappoint me,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, that’s well established.” Harry gestured to the recording sphere.

“Albus, are you going to let him speak to you that way?” Mrs. Weasley asked, visibly offended on Dumbledore’s behalf.

Harry turned to face the adult Weasleys. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron has laid hands on my person several times. The first time was on the first night at this school. The most recent was today. I have made it abundantly clear to him that I want nothing to do with him. I don’t like how he treats me or my friends. One of my friends shares a dorm with him; and at today’s feast, will seek a re-sort. His grandmother wants him away from Ron. Now, Fred and George have informed me that he wasn’t always like this, and maybe that means he’ll stop one day. But, my personal opinion of Ron has been solidified. I want him to stop touching me, at the very least, and ideally, I’d like him to stop talking to me.”

“Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore’s voice was eerily calm. “This is a school. Children interact with one another. You cannot expect Mr. Weasley to never speak to you.”

“Albus,” Mr. Weasley said, “from what the twins have said” - Mrs. Weasley scoffed but he persevered - “Mr. Potter is a good and supportive friend. The twins are social but they don’t throw around the word ‘friend’ unless they mean it. And Percy has remarked on Harry’s dedication to his studies. That is high praise from Percy. None of them have expressed a concern for Ron’s safety. So, I am willing to accept that there is more to this than Mr. Potter striking my son. Honestly, I’m surprised Ron even said anything. My sons have interacted much too roughly for my liking at home.” Mr Weasley then put an arm around Mrs. Weasley and rubbed her arm.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley’s generous interpretation of events aside, I do not appreciate the way you comport yourself. I know today is a difficult day for you-”

“What do you mean, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and for a moment, his sparkle dimmed. He looked at the other adults in the room and then cleared his throat. “I thought you knew, Mr. Potter. Today is the day your parents were killed.”

“Oh…” Harry hunched his shoulders, and Serafina nuzzled the side of his face. “I knew it was around this time of year…”

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Weasley said softly. “Your guardian didn’t tell you?”

Harry looked up, eyes earnest and meek. “I grew up in the muggle world, ma’am. My aunt… she didn’t care for magic and…” Harry looked back down.

“She didn’t tell you,” Mrs. Weasley concluded. “You poor dear.”

“Oh, come off it!” Ron shouted. “You didn’t even know your parents! You’re not sad!” Harry sagged and pulled Serafina close. The action was effective, and Snape might have been impressed if he’d believed it to be a complete performance.

“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley screeched.

“Ron?” Mr. Weasley looked stunned with disappointment. “Albus, would you mind if we step out of the office with our son? I’d like to have a word with him.”

Dumbledore, confused by the turn of events, startled. “Oh, yes, of course. Take your time. The password is ‘candy corn,’ when you’re ready to floo home.”

Once the Weasleys had gone, Snape spoke, “I think this meeting has come to an end, don’t you, Minerva?”

“Yes, Severus. Albus, we’ll see you at the feast.”

Chapter Text

The way to the dungeons was quiet. Snape’s concern for Harry grew with each flight Serafina remained by his side. When they stepped onto the last set of stairs leading to the dungeons, the boy said, “Professor Snape, may we discuss something in your office please?”

“Of course.” Snape led them to his office, and he set up the necessary wards.

Harry looked at Snape as steadily as he could manage. “Professor, you are about to learn another secret. This one is even more guarded. I will explain afterward.” Harry walked towards a section of wall that was unblocked and unadorned. “Will you do me the courtesy of banging on the wall if I have to return? Oh, and in case I can’t return for some reason, please put a table or something in front of this spot, yeah?” Harry’s back was now against the wall. “I’m sorry, sir, but I need some time alone.”

Before Snape could say anything, he watched his student sink into the wall. “What the fuck?!” Snape turned to look at Serafina, who stared back for a moment before walking over to his desk and lying down beside it. “Did you know about this?” Serafina didn’t even twitch. Then, suddenly, she jumped up, glanced at the space where Harry had been, and rushed over. She stared intently at the wall and then began pacing. “Is he in danger?” Serafina looked at him and sat down, her tail twitching. After a couple of heartbeats, Snape felt a wave of magic. Somehow, he understood. Harry was screaming.

The quiet that followed the wave of magic was unsettling for its strangeness but otherwise, Snape felt calmer. He made himself tackle some of his paperwork but kept an eye on Serafina. She had returned to lie beside Snape’s desk, and he chose to see that as a positive sign. After twenty minutes, his wards alerted him to Dumbledore approaching the dungeons. The professor moved a chair in front of the section of wall Harry had used and canceled the wards that would cause suspicion. When he turned towards his desk, Serafina was missing. So, Snape spoke to the room, hoping she’d hear him, “Stay hidden.”

Snape sat behind his desk and returned to his task of marking coursework. Dumbledore did not bother knocking on either the classroom door or the professor’s office.

“Ah, Severus, there you are. I felt a disturbance in the wards. Did you feel anything?”

“No.” Severus stood up, feigning concern, and walked to the front of his desk. “You’re sure, Albus? I must check on my Slytherins.”

“Steady down, my boy. I do not know where it originated, but I checked with those I came across. No one felt it. And nothing seems amiss.”

“Is that not more concerning, Albus? Perhaps-”

“I will not entertain more speculation about Professor Quirrell, Severus.”

On the surface, Snape stilled; but inside, his stomach roiled. “If you’re sure, Albus.”

“I am. Hogwarts wards can be overly cautious. Where is Mr. Potter, Severus?”

“As far as I’m aware, he’s in the Slytherin common room.”

“He was so upset earlier, I thought maybe he’d done something reckless…”

“Did you think Mr. Potter had something to do with what you felt?”

Dumbledore nodded. “He is a troubled boy, Severus, and distressed children are capable of terrible things.”

“What are you saying exactly?” Snape said after a lengthy pause.

“I need you to keep a closer eye on him.”

“Headmaster, you’ve already tasked me with keeping watch. What else would you have me do?” Severus allowed some of his frustration to seep through.

“The Malfoy boy looks up to you. He appears close to Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore guided.

“From what I’ve seen, Headmaster, the closeness is more one-sided. Mr. Potter is not in the habit of sharing personal information.”

“Then, perhaps, it’s best to encourage young Mr. Malfoy’s interest,” Dumbledore pressed.

“Headmaster, not a month ago, you would have preferred a wedge be forced between the two. What is your end goal here? I am not comfortable with being tasked with manipulating two impressionable children.”

“And I am not comfortable with insubordination, Severus. I am doing all that I can to protect the wizarding world, and I am expecting your support. You have sworn to protect the boy, and this is how we protect him.”

“He is an 11-year-old boy, Headmaster. Treating him as if he is dangerous is having undesirable consequences.”

Dumbledore gave Snape a searching look. Snape felt a subtle push at the edge of his mental shields and allowed glimpses of recent interactions with Harry to filter through. “I think you’ve begun to care about the boy, Severus. I doubted your willingness to see beyond him being James Potter’s son.”

“He is a Slytherin,” Snape said simply.

“He is the Boy Who Lived, and he is an integral part of this war,” Dumbledore said. “Never forget that.” The headmaster reached for the office door handle. “Do not fail me, Severus.”

When Snape was sure Dumbledore had left the dungeons, he replaced the wards and moved the chair obstructing Harry’s exit. Snape turned to see Serafina staring at him. “Do you think I can call him back now?”

Serafina walked towards the wall and put a paw on its surface. After a few minutes, Harry stepped out. “He’s such an asshole.”

“Language, Mr. Potter,” Snape said automatically. Internally, he agreed. “I, of course, want to know more about what I witnessed, but I think it best you return to the common room.”

“About that, I don’t think I should be seen leaving your office. No one saw me enter. So, I’ll make my way there through an empty classroom. Give me a few minutes and then, please let Serafina out. She’ll come get me.” Harry bent down to pet Draco’s familiar. “You’ll come to get me, won’t you, Wild Girl?” Serafina butted the boy’s head. Harry rubbed her neck and looked back at Snape. “She and I will head back to the common room together, and you’ll see us at the feast. Thanks for today, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome... Before you go, Mr. Potter, there is one thing I need to ask…” Harry waited patiently for him to continue. Snape could barely believe how calm the boy seemed. “Does Mr. Malfoy know?”

Harry shook his head sadly. “No. I didn’t plan to tell you, and I feel bad that I didn’t tell him first. But if I ever tell him, I think he’ll understand.”

“Mr. Malfoy will appreciate that telling someone under a magical vow is easier to justify, at any rate,” Snape said and Harry smiled.

“Yeah, he appreciates stuff like that. Alright, Professor, I better go before Dumbledore decides to double back and ask you to summon me from the common room; or something equally irksome.” Snape nodded and Harry disappeared into the wall again.

Snape kept staring, dumbfounded. How in Merlin’s name was he doing that? Serafina bumped his leg. “Yes, let’s go, Wild Girl.” Serafina tipped her head back, and Snape thought he could feel her smiling. He let her out and trusted she’d find Harry with ease. Snape still hadn’t talked to Draco about how attached his familiar was to Harry. The oversight, he thought, said a lot about the bizarreness of the year so far.

Chapter Text

The feast was more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. Howell was back on his shoulders, but Serafina stayed close. Midha wanted to attend the feast but unfortunately, “delivery owls” were not allowed in the Great Hall “beyond when it was necessary to perform their duties.” They categorically were not given the same freedoms as familiars, or even pets. Midha thought the rule was ^“horseshite.”^ Harry and Howell agreed.

Today, drifting into memory was easy. In many ways, the day his parents died felt like Harry’s first memory. His father had been hyper and his mother apologetic. She talked a lot that day…

Don’t mind your da. He has no self-control. You - His mother lifted him up - are all the sweet I need…

Baby Harry wriggled in the bath. I know, my sweet boy. It’s a weird bath but it’s important. Harry sniffed and squirmed, beginning to whimper. Just a little longer…

There… see… all done…

Remember, Harry. Protection can be an open window. It’s not always about closing the door… Baby Harry always giggled when his mummy made sounds into his neck.

Oh, love… It won’t be like this forever, Harry. I promise. One day, you’ll be outside on Halloween… or Samhain. You celebrate whichever holiday you want, however you want. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Will you promise mummy?

I promise, Harry thought, as Draco squeezed his hand under the table. Harry turned to him and smiled. Draco was good about keeping him present. Draco was now… his parents were then…

Harry’s friends were amused by how little Harry valued sweets. For their entertainment, he tried a few and gave them his feedback. He had his limit, though.

What sick fuck wanted other people to taste his vomit? The creator of Every Flavoured Beans must have studied his own to capture the flavor profile! Harry studied one of the sickly green beans. “I never want to meet Mr. Bott.”

Draco snorted. “That may be chocolate, Harry… Here” - Draco bit into a purple bean, approved of the flavor, and handed the rest to Harry - “this one is peppermint.”

Harry furrowed his brow but popped it in his mouth. “Huh... So, the flavor of the bean is not determined by the person eating it?”

Blaise laughed. “No. You can’t rely on the colors but other than that, the beans will taste however they will taste.”

“That would be interesting, though…” Theo briefly considered and then shook his head. “I can’t imagine it being worth the effort.”

“Where would the fun be? You’d never need to eat another sweetie again. That confectioner would be the end of confections!” Daphne picked up a white, sponge-looking owl. “Forget the beans. Try this one… I’m convinced they taste of nothing.”

Harry took a bite and contorted his face in displeasure. “I kind of agree, but my mouth feels coated in sugar nonetheless.” Draco handed him some tea while suppressing laughter.

Pansy’s suggestion followed. The texture was better but the flavor was saccharine. “That’s… too much…”

“How can you not like Ghourdy Ghouls?” Pansy asked laughingly. “They’re like chocolate vegetables.”

No, they’re really not… “Yuck,” Harry deadpanned.

Harry allowed his friends’ laughter to fuel his belief in goodness. The children teasing him didn’t know how it felt to have little access to food. They couldn’t understand that when the choice is between a ham sandwich and a candy bar, it’s clear what the better investment is. These kids had always been allowed to have both the nourishment and the treat. To Harry, that meant their guardians had done at least one thing right.

Within the same world… Parents could live. Children could be loved. Life could be happy. Harry smiled and Draco squeezed his hand.

———

Five students chose to be re-sorted. Neville was happy he wasn’t the only one and even happier to receive a warm Hufflepuff welcome. Harry hoped it was everything Neville was looking forward to and more.

When Quirrell stormed in, shouting about a troll on the loose, Harry and Draco exchanged a look. That wasn’t suspicious at all. Dumbledore tried to send all the students back to their common rooms, but the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins weren’t having it. Most of them stayed put. A handful of the most capable among them went to make sure it was safe to return to the dungeons. Two of them, however, were sidetracked by Neville. He had heard Hermione was in a bathroom crying and realized he hadn’t seen her the entire feast.

Later, when the Slytherins were safely in the common room, they were told that a student was severely injured. One of their own had helped rescue her from certain death. Morgana Kiel and Hufflepuff, Eliza Fortescue, had found Hermione in a bathroom with the troll. Harry unkindly wondered if she’d think better of Slytherins now.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the beans…

(Madam Medallion’s journal)

H: Does Bertie Bott work with investors? Who actually owns and makes Every Flavoured Beans? I have an idea.

MM: Blessings to you too, Harry.

H: Sorry… Blessings…

MM: Bertie Bott is still in total control of the product. Investment options would have to be explored. What is your idea?

H: I don’t like the beans, of course. But I think a bag of spicy beans would be marketable. Instead of a chaotic selection, a theme! Every bean could have a mystery heat: horseradish, wasabi, different types of peppers… Even if the flavors are limited, the potency could vary. The bag could read, “Can you take the heat?”

There's less “risk” of the enjoyment being disrupted. Going from sweet to vomit is gross! Very, very gross! He’s a madman! Theme products would still have an element of risk, which Bott seems to prefer. But different! More controlled. Still playful. What do you think?

I have other theme ideas too! All Desserts… All Chocolate (like bonbons)… “What’s For Dinner?” This one could incorporate existing flavors of ham, liver, broccoli, etc… Oh! A creamy one! Like cream pies, cream sodas, cream cookies!

MM: I like the idea. It’s a shame it is too close to the Every Flavoured Beans to go ahead without him… I’ll look into it.

How are you, Harry?

H: …

Trying not to be sad…

MM: Do you wish to elaborate?

H: No. Is that okay?

MM: Of course, young one. I am here, if you change your mind.

H: Thank you. So, back to the beans… Do other beings eat these beans? I can’t help but think only the wix are foolish enough to risk a vomit bean.

MM: You are not entirely wrong…

H: So gross!

———

The next day, Harry was complaining to his yearmates about having agreed to visit Hermione. “He asked me to do it for him, not her. Manipulative ass.”

“That’s a good one,” Pansy said. “High chance of returns.”

“If Hufflepuffs are sneaky, I may need to reconsider their bets…” Daphne said, pulling out the relevant parchment.

“Neville is a special case. I wouldn’t say he’s representative of all Hufflepuffs,” Theo said.

“Anyone can be sneaky. Don’t underestimate badgers,” Blaise said.

“Neville isn’t sneaky. He cares…” Draco’s brow creased. “I’m not sure that’s better, though. Just a fact.”

“He does care… For the record, I didn’t say ‘sneak;’ I said ‘manipulative.’” Harry rubbed his temples.

Theo scoffed. “That’s better?”

“I think so,” Pansy said. “What does Neville see in her?”

“Potential…” Harry shook his head.

“She helped me once.” The group turned to see Hollis. “Some Gryffindors pushed roughly past me on the stairs, and I tripped... They laughed but she stopped to check if I was okay.”

“Saw it from behind you, I imagine. Didn’t see you were a Slytherin,” Daphne said.

Hollis nodded with a frown but added, “Her instincts were right. For that day, it was enough.”

“I suppose we can give her credit for not pushing you back down after seeing your colors,” Draco drawled. Hollis was surprised into laughter and covered her mouth uncertainly.

“Hollis, why were you alone?” Harry asked cautiously.

“I just like to be alone sometimes.” She looked at Harry in a way he interpreted as: You should know.

Harry nodded. “Still, maybe-”

“I’m a third-year, Harry. I know what I’m doing,” Hollis said, smiling fondly.

Harry returned the smile. “Still, if you ever want to be alone, together… let me know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Pansy said.

Hollis’ eyes didn’t leave Harry’s. “Yes, it does.”

———

Harry sat by Hermione’s bed in the infirmary the next day. She was sleeping, and Harry felt like a fucking idiot. He kept telling himself he was doing this for Neville. She helped Hollis too. Harry breathed purposely, bearing in mind what he’d been reading lately about the mental arts. In… Out… Steady, Harry… In… Out… Do not leave… In… Out… Don’t think of her as a fool! That won’t help… In… Out…

There’s more to her than this, Harry. Neville thought Hermione had just gotten caught up in some stupid thinking, in her effort to fit in.

Harry appreciated the insight. But come on! To Harry’s mind, Hermione was practically a lost cause. It wasn’t a nice view. He understood that, but if time on Privet Drive taught him anything… Look, some people just like feeling superior to others. As far as Harry could tell, Hermione was the type of person who wanted everything to fit into place “just so.” Good guys over here, bad guys over there. The person at the top is the best. Yada, yada, yada… bullshit, bullshit, bullshit… She was a “That’s where I want to be!” person. Harry could admire ambition, but Hermione was just so rigid.

She’s smart, Harry. I think she will improve.

Smart people can be stupid, Nev. Really fucking stupid.

For me, then. I don’t like the idea of her being alone.

You ass!

Neville had smiled. Harry had rolled his eyes. Harry would have preferred it if he’d smirked. Nope; Neville’s face had been open and thankful. The best manipulation, it seemed, was fucking sincerity!

In… Out…

When Harry was finally ready to focus on reading, he reached for a book on charms. It was supplemental reading, at best. Harry was researching ways to keep Howell and Midha happier in the dungeons. The two had gotten it into their heads that Harry should get them more sun.

It all started after Midha reported that the windows in Gryffindor Tower ^“received more than enough sun to share.”^ He tried to explain that the windows weren’t collecting sunlight, but Midha said that was irrelevant. ^“If ceilings can have stars and portraits can move out of their frame, there must be a way to bring sunlight to the dungeons.”^ Harry wasn’t sure about that, but he was happy to try.

He’d thought he had found some promising charms but when one looked closer, the results were more pictorial than functional. Howell and Midha didn’t want to look at a depiction of sunlight. They wanted to experience sunlight. Harry wondered if he could convince the house to explore familiar habitat creation. Maybe it could be their next group project. Should they not find ways to come together that didn’t involve payback? Harry thought so, anyway, but he could admit it was a tougher sell…

“What are you doing here?”

Ah, Hermione is awake. “Hello to you, too, Ms. Granger,” Harry said.

“It’s Hermione,” she gritted. Harry acknowledged her with a nod. “What are you doing here?” Then, she looked around in alarm.

“Neville asked me to sit with you. Madam Pomfrey knows I’m here and thought the company would be good for you. He had business in the greenhouse this afternoon,” Harry said calmly.

Hermione looked sad for a second before scowling. “Where’s your entourage?”

“If you are asking about my friends, all but one are getting on with their day elsewhere. Draco, however, is currently talking to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry answered, as genially as he could.

“You don’t have to be here, you know? Just go,” Hermione challenged.

“If you want me to leave, I will, but I will make it clear to Neville that you insisted on being alone.” For Neville, for Hollis…

“I guess you can stay but I’m not talking about what happened,” Hermione said emphatically.

Harry looked at her in confusion. “I know what happened to you. Everyone knows.”

“I meant the details,” Hermione said as if he were a dullard. Harry narrowed his eyes, hummed, and returned to his book. They sat in silence until Madam Pomfrey came in, and Harry stepped out to give them privacy. When Pomfrey was done, Harry returned to his seat and continued reading.

“You’re not curious about what she said?” Hermione asked in a clipped tone.

Harry looked up. “Not particularly. I imagine it was some form of, ‘You’re healing nicely. Keep resting.’”

Hermione snorted quietly. “Something like that… You don’t like me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Harry did her the courtesy of replying. “No.”

“But you are here,” she said. He nodded. “And you are making no demands.” Harry just stared. He thought she was saying this more for herself. Then, with a stronger voice, she said, “Professor McGonagall suggested that I work on my social skills. She gave me advice and… I dismissed her. I accused her of not being on my side.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “What would you have said?”

She seemed sincere, Harry thought. “I respect the Deputy Headmistress. So, I’d likely have thanked her for her time, considered her advice, and met with her again to discuss my thoughts and questions.”

Hermione slumped back onto her pillows. “You make it sound so easy.” Harry didn’t know what to say to that and with Hermione looking up at the ceiling, he returned to his book.

When dinner time approached, Harry stood up and made sure he had his things. “I’m gonna get going. I don’t want to be here when Ron arrives.” The air between them shifted, and Harry studied Hermione. “Did I say something wrong?”

“He’s the reason I was crying in the bathroom.” Her voice was smaller than it should be. To Harry’s displeasure, it bothered him.

“I didn’t know. I apologize for bringing him up.” Harry looked around. “If I stay, it’ll likely be worse but if you don’t feel safe… I can think of a couple of solutions, but they aren’t ideal.”

“Madam Pomfrey will be here. It’ll probably be fine.”

“But does she know he’s why you weren’t at the feast?” Hermione shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

“I’ll tell her.”

“What? No!”

“Yes. You told me. Others likely know too. Why not benefit from Madam Pomfrey knowing now? Plus, you’ll heal faster if you aren’t discomfited… Ms. Granger, if you don’t take control of your story, you’re allowing too much room for him to do so instead. What’s your plan if he sees you in here, and he starts yelling?” She blinked a few times, and then her eyes widened. “I have to go. Recover speedily, Ms. Granger.”

“Hermione,” she said reflexively and Harry nodded. She was talking again. He’d done his duty, as far as he was concerned.

———

Harry continued visiting Hermione in the infirmary, sitting with her when Neville wasn’t able to. They didn’t talk much but the silent reading wasn’t completely uncomfortable. On the third day, Hermione said, “Madam Pomfrey says I can leave the infirmary tomorrow…

“Headmaster Dumbledore asked me if I wanted a re-sort. Since I wasn’t at the feast, he wanted to extend the offer.” Hermione gulped and cleared her throat. “I’m thinking about doing it… The hat was leaning towards Ravenclaw, but I wanted to be in the same house as Albus Dumbledore…”

That fucking guy… Harry closed his book, considering her words. She hadn’t asked him to weigh in but he felt it coming.

“So… If you were…” Hermione cleared her throat again and took a sip of water. “What do you think I should do?”

“Will it be private, or will you be expected to do it in the Great Hall?”

“He didn’t say. I…”

“If it’s in private, I think another conversation with the sorting hat would be helpful. That way, if you decide to stay in Gryffindor, you’ll have a clearer view of why.”

“You think that if it’s in public, there’ll be too much pressure to change houses; and I’ll be miserable for different reasons, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Can’t you just tell me what you think?!” Hermione shouted, huffed, and crossed her arms in frustration. “I’m sorry for shouting… Neville didn’t give me a direct answer either.”

“I’m not surprised, but we’re coming at this from different angles,” Harry said.

“How so?” Hermione asked warily. Though curious and desperate for a different perspective, she suspected that the Slytherin’s words would be unkind.

“You are looking to be happier. Neville wants what’s best for you. I want what’s best for everyone else.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “Regardless of the house you choose, your behavior will determine how other people feel in your presence. I would like to see you getting along better with others, and a Ravenclaw placement could go either way. Staying in Gryffindor could go either way. It all depends on you.”

“I…” Hermione pinched her bed coverings. “I do try, you know?!”

“Do you?”

“I…” Hermione furrowed her brow and chewed her lips. “I think I do.”

“I’m not advocating for you to be something you’re not, Hermione. I just think you need to be more inclusive.”

“Is this about the Slytherin thing?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m talking about the person-to-person thing. Others matter too. Their words. Their thoughts. Their feelings. Their chosen activities.” Hermione looked down. “I heard you yanked a book from someone’s hand, criticizing them for not studying.”

Hermione’s head whipped up. “How do you know about that?”

“Have you done it more than once? In more than one location?” Hermione looked at the privacy curtain. “People see. People talk.”

There was silence for long enough that Harry was about to start reading again. Then Neville appeared, a little out of breath. “Oh, good, you’re still here!” Harry greeted Neville warmly and brought another chair closer. “Thanks, Harry. I wanted us to have overlapping time since Hermione gets out tomorrow. Draco should join. Hermione, do you mind?”

Hermione shook her head but it was clear, to Harry at least, that she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Neville stood up again and went to get Draco. Harry prepared another seat in his absence, and Neville soon returned with a befuddled Draco. Harry patted the chair next to him and smiled. Draco rolled his eyes and sat down. Howell took that moment to poke his head out of Harry’s robes and make his way over to the blond.

“You’ve had your snake with you?!” Hermione yelled, and Howell hissed warningly.

“It’s okay, Howell, she’ll quiet down. Won’t you, Ms. Granger?” Draco allowed no room for argument. Hermione just stared.

“He’s been with me each visit, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Oh…”

“It’s okay, Hermione, he’s not going to hurt you,” Neville said but she didn’t look convinced.

To break the silence, Neville asked Draco about his time with Madam Pomfrey. Draco reservedly discussed the books the mediwitch had shown him. Hermione couldn’t know that Draco would normally be more expressive about the topic, and Harry wondered if she found him stuck-up.

The conversation continued choppily with very little contribution from the Gryffindor. Occasionally, her face would twitch like she was fighting against saying something. It made the situation more awkward.

Finally, Draco turned to Harry and said, “It’s time to meet the others.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Enjoy the rest of your day, you two. Neville, I’ll meet you after breakfast tomorrow.” Neville nodded. “Hermione, good luck with your decision.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly.

“Goodbye, Ms. Granger,” Draco added before they headed out. Just beyond the curtains, the blond stopped and pulled Harry to the side, placing a finger over his lips.

Hermione’s voice could be heard. “Well, they were in a hurry to leave.”

“Hermione.” Neville sounded exasperated. “They have quidditch practice.”

“Oh… They didn’t even want to be here.”

“You’re right. So, how about showing some appreciation for their efforts to keep you company?”

“I-”

“No, Hermione. I don’t know if you feel compelled to be contrary, but I won’t sit here listening to you pick apart their character.”

“They only did it…”

Draco pulled Harry towards the door. They would have to rush to meet the team now.

Chapter Text

The quidditch captain was a deceptively competitive young woman named Sunila Montgomery. Of course, there was no reason to think she wasn’t competitive: she was a Slytherin and a captain of a popular sport. However, Sunila could be so calm about it; Harry easily forgot that she could make his life difficult at any given moment.

“Potter!”

“Yes, Captain.” Harry whipped around to look into Sunila’s dark blue eyes.

“I don't care how disinterested you are in quidditch. Catching the snitch is your life’s ambition. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Good. Now, get your head out of the clouds. It’s time to go again. We’re adding an extra bludger. Do the course faster. Go!” Harry took off like a shot.

The team had decided, after Draco’s recommendation, that they should train him hard from the very beginning: both on and off the pitch. The training was multifaceted. The physical was not restricted to the air, and the mental could feel omnipresent. Harry supposed that was bound to happen on a house team.

Sunila put Draco in charge of Harry’s deeper understanding of the game. This included a lot of assigned reading. Flying was considered a separate topic; so Harry read books about the skill in general, not just in connection with quidditch. Practice focused on the actual catching of the snitch. Those lessons, on the quidditch pitch, were where Harry encountered the most galvanizing side of his Slytherin captain.

At his first session, Sunila told him, “Hone your specific flying skills, of course, but not on my time, Potter.” She aimed to make him an expert at spotting and pursuing the snitch. She’d even created capture drills, which Harry found hilarious. No one had ever played catch with him in the muggle world. Yet, here, at a magical school, in the middle of Scotland, his teammates hurled various small items for him to chase and catch: light ones, heavy ones, shiny ones, dull ones. Again and again and again.

Harry flew through the course while Draco took notes, sitting in the stands. The memory of Sunila’s words urged him on.

Find your path, Potter. Carve it if you have to!

Harry’s biggest challenge was concentration. As he flew, part of him thought about the rest of his day. After practice, he’d have a one-on-one strategy session with Draco. He needed to finish his essay on-

Fuck! A bludger clipped Harry’s thigh.

Head out of the clouds, Potter!

Yes, Captain!

After Harry caught the real snitch, Sunila called a time-out: “Potter, over here. Let me look at you.” She waved her wand over him and hummed at the results. “You’re fine, just a bruise: put some balm on after your shower. That does make me wonder… Team, over here!” The Slytherins gathered around. “As we all know, Potter here has been the target of the youngest Weasley boy and Dumbledore.” The team murmured in acknowledgment. “I want us to start thinking of ways someone could sabotage our seeker. For every idea you come up with, I want 2 suggestions for addressing the issue. I don’t want us losing the game because we failed to guard our blindspot.”

Harry turned to Draco, who had joined them. “Do you hear that? She loves me.”

“Shut it, Potter.” Sunila narrowed her eyes, but the expression lacked heat.

Yes, Captain. Harry had never been on a team before, but he thought Sunila was a first-rate captain.

———

When game time arrived, Harry’s muscles were warm and ready. Draco had made sure of it. He’d even arranged for them to have an early breakfast in the kitchens, claiming Harry needed time to “properly digest” before his run around the lake. Harry didn’t bother to point out that the rest of the team could benefit from Draco’s regimen; he wasn’t sure if that was for Draco, himself, or his teammates. It hardly mattered. Draco was always good company, and Harry liked that no one could fault him for not giving the match his best.

Harry found the match fairly interesting, but he doubted he’d ever be the kind of player the team deserved. So far, he just didn’t see what all the quidditch fuss was about. The event did present a dangerous technique for keeping his focus: broom insecurity. Managing an unresponsive broom was not something quidditch practice had prepared Harry for. His broom was more than unruly: it jerked him up multiple times. Once, the vertical ascent was so quick that Harry thought his broom would leave him behind. All his troubleshooting confirmed was that he was not responsible for any of the crazed behavior.

Fortunately, his broom settled: the perturbation disappeared as mysteriously as it had arrived. It wasn’t easy to trust that the issue was resolved; however, Harry coped by focusing on finding the snitch faster.

Harry also resolved to talk to Snape immediately after the game. Maybe the professor could examine his broom for anything unusual. If something odd were discovered, could he exchange it for another? Was that a thing in the magical world?

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted the golden ball and took off. He imagined Sunila shouting in his ear and flew faster. That young woman knew how to light a fire under her team’s collective asses: that was certain.

Harry caught the snitch a little too close to the ground, forcing him to decelerate quickly and brace for impact. Harry rolled away from the landing, smiled at the feeling of earth on his back, and held up the snitch triumphantly.

The team flew to his location, happy in that Slytherin way Harry found so amusing. Marcus pulled him up and clapped him on the back; Harry handed the snitch over to Sunila for examination.

She smiled softly and nodded. “Good job, Potter. Next time, alight more gracefully.”

“Yes, Captain.” Harry grinned and she patted his shoulder.

———

Harry and Draco found Snape before leaving the pitch. Their head of house’s attention seemed divided, but he led them to his office anyway. Harry could not guess what had Snape so distracted. However, something about the lack of commentary on his decision to postpone showering felt like confirmation that speaking to Snape was the right decision.

The Slytherin head of house reluctantly informed them that Quirrell had been jinxing Harry’s broom. To stop him, Snape “accidentally” bumped into him. As a result, Quirrell lost the required connection, which then allowed Harry to regain control. So there was little reason to suspect the broom itself had been sabotaged.

Harry was not reassured by the news; fortunately, Snape did not act like he expected the boys to be comforted. Did a professor try to kill me today? How could we prevent this in the future? How will we explain this to the team? Would this convince the headmaster that Quirrell is a problem? Yeah, nah… Dumbledore would take advantage of my death… It’s certainly easier to manage a memory than a person… Should I make a will?

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said.

“Hmm?”

“You weren’t listening, Harry,” Draco said, reaching for Harry’s hand.

“I don’t think I was, no. What did I miss?”

“Professor Snape will look into protections for your broom. Your parseltongue could potentially make them more secure.”

“Oh… yeah… that’s great… So, will you inspect my broom too? Even though there’s probably nothing wrong with it?”

“Yes, Harry. Keeping your broom is how Professor Snape will form a cover story for the rest of the house. When did you stop listening?”

Harry shrugged. “Does the headmaster know?”

“We haven’t discussed it. I’m here with you,” Snape said.

“Oh, yeah…”

“Mr. Potter, are you alright?”

“I think so.”

“Mr. Potter, now that I know what Quirrell is capable of, I will be better prepared. It is because we discussed his behaviors that I identified his involvement in your predicament. I will protect you,” Snape said. Harry stared. “Could you please tell me what you are thinking?”

“Were you not going to tell me?”

Snape audibly exhaled and rubbed his temple. “I don’t know. It’s fresh. I think your reaction would have determined it. If I had felt I didn’t have to tell you, I likely wouldn’t have.”

Harry furrowed his brow, and his eyes drifted to a side wall. Draco looked to Snape for guidance; the professor gestured for him to give Harry time. After a few moments, Harry turned back and nodded. “Okay. I think I understand.”

“Draco, could you step into the classroom for a moment? I want to run some scans to make sure Mr. Potter is clear of injury.”

“Oh, uh…” Draco turned to Harry, who smiled.

“It’s okay, Draco.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll be right outside… when you’re ready.”

Once alone, Snape asked, “What is it you want to say, Mr. Potter? What do you understand?”

“Quirrell tried to kill me today, didn’t he? That’s why you would have avoided telling me. You wanted me to be able to get off that broom and dismiss the chaos as some fluke… Draco didn’t get it, did he?”

“Let me scan you, Mr. Potter.” Harry nodded. When Snape was done, he confirmed that Harry was mostly well before continuing. “Do you still have bruise balm?” Harry nodded. “Use it wherever you feel it is needed, especially on your left arm. Come to me when you need a new pot.

“Would you like me to cast a freshening charm on you, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded. After the professor’s magic refreshed him, the boy smiled in thanks. “Would you like a calming draught, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir. I… need to feel this, I think.”

Snape nodded in acknowledgment. “If you change your mind, come see me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In answer to your questions: yes, I believe Quirrell intended for you to fall; no, Draco did not reach the same conclusion. He heard the key details, but his perspective allowed for less certainty.”

Harry snorted. What a lovely way of saying that Draco’s life experiences have been very different… “There was an assassination attempt during the day, at a school, by a professor…”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to discuss this with the headmaster?”

“Yes.”

Harry shook his head. “I think you’d be wasting your time, sir.”

“I have to tell him, Mr. Potter.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Potter, I-”

“Sir, it’s fine. Like you said, this is fresh. We’ll have to see how things go, right?” Snape nodded. “I just can’t believe I still have to attend classes with that guy. This school is so fucked up.”

Snape snorted. “Language, Mr. Potter. However, I will admit: today, I feel much the same.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks.”

———

The party in the Slytherin common room was well underway, by the time Harry and Draco made it back. They didn’t have to say much to the team aside from, “Snape is checking out the broom.” Their acceptance meant house acceptance. It was easy.

Too easy, Harry thought as he quickly changed out of his uniform. He knew he should be grateful, but it was disconcerting. Were they just that trusting in Snape? Were they too happy and distracted to consider the possibility that doom lurked in the halls? Harry supposed it could be something else entirely… Maybe the broom “malfunction” didn’t look as bad as it felt… After all, Draco was calm… It seemed strange to move on, but what else was there to do? He was alive. Snape had his back. Draco was happy.

Party time, then… Harry spotted the Weasley twins and rushed over to greet them. “Hey! Who let you in?”

“They bribed us!” Cassius shouted.

“That’s great! Come sit.” Harry ushered them over to his group of friends. “Wait, where’s Draco?”

“He’s getting drinks,” Pansy said.

“Thanks, Pans.” Harry faced the twins. “How are things? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“We’ve been busy,” the twins said together.

“Someone lit a fire under our butts to do well in school!” George bumped Harry’s shoulder with his own. Harry chuckled.

Draco walked up and handed Harry a cup of tea. “Are you suggesting Harry encouraged you to do better in school?”

“Thanks, Dray.” Harry smiled and scooted over to make room for Draco.

George’s eyes widened; Fred offered a plausible enough story. “Harriekins bet us 10 galleons we couldn’t rank in the top 10 of our year.”

“That sounds like a lie, but I’m changing the subject,” Blaise said. “Twins, how is your brother’s condition?” The Weasleys visibly tensed. They looked at Harry before answering.

“Uh, we kinda thought that topic was off-limits,” George said, finding the Slytherin faces unreadable. “O-kay, well, the St. Mungo’s specialists have theorized that Ron’s reaction to his circumstances is fueling the spell.”

“Really?” The twins were startled and looked over their shoulders.

“Fred, George, this is Gemma Fawley,” Harry introduced. “She’s a nerd.”

The twins’ faces brightened. “Us too!”

“Until recently, it hasn’t shown in our school work, but we love experimenting. That’s how we come up with our pranks,” Fred said.

“That’s good to know. We were a little concerned you were agents of chaos,” Daphne said.

“Or lower-level chaos deities,” Theo added.

“Twins, you were saying?” Marcus approached. “How is your brother’s reaction affecting his condition?” Fred and George were surprised by the newest addition to the conversation; then they noticed the party was quieter, with many Slytherins keeping tabs on their conversation.

“Blimey, this is a snake den.” Fred gulped.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea,” Pansy said.

Fred seemed perplexed by her response; so he focused on Blaise, the one who started them on this path. “The specialists think: for the food to react that way, the magic at work is reflecting his behavior.”

“They don’t think the spell would have lasted this long if Ron weren’t still being a bully,” George added.

“Well, fuck. Will it ever end then?” Harry mused.

“Harry?” Fred pulled Harry from his thoughts. “We heard you met our parents.”

“Oh, that, yeah.” Harry waved it off and hoped they wouldn’t continue.

“We’re sorry, Harry,” George said.

“Why? I don’t expect you to apologize for your parents’ behavior. Plus, by the end, your mom wasn’t as pissed at me.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I’m more bothered with how she talked about you.”

“She doesn’t take us very seriously,” Fred said.

“That’s her loss, then,” Draco said, raising his drink. The twins grinned, and Harry patted Draco’s knee. He appreciated that Draco was supportive even though he had his misgivings about the connection.

“Back to the main subject, twins,” Gemma said. “Have they tested him continuously enough to know if a few days of better behavior lessens the effects?” The twins nodded. “Fascinating. Yet, he refuses to adopt a different approach?”

Fred answered, “Well, they actually came up with the theory after Ron shouted at one of the healers...”

“His food slapped him!” George snorted.

“With hands?” Marcus asked seriously, and the twins’ goggled when no Slytherin laughed.

“No, uh, it just sort of jumped at his cheek,” George said.

Fred nodded. “Hard!”

“You know what Mungo’s should consider?” Harry grinned. “A contest.”

“Oh, that would be amazing!” Gemma said.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Blaise asked.

“Yes! They could release the information they’ve acquired to applicants and see who comes up with a viable solution,” Theo said.

“It could have such an impact on innovation.” Gemma jumped up from her seat. “I’m gonna go talk to Snape! Theo, you coming?” Theo nodded and practically jumped out of his seat.

“And, they’re off!” Harry shouted, and Draco clippety-clopped his leg.

“Wait, why would she go talk to Snape?” Fred asked.

“The authorities won’t listen to the students, but Snape could plant the seed,” Greg said.

Fred and George whipped around to Greg. “We’ve never heard you talk.”

“Not even when you got hit with the glitter bomb,” George added.

Greg shrugged. “It didn’t bother me.”

The twins didn’t know what to say to that. So they turned back to Harry. “You really think a contest would help?”

“Absolutely; if they find a more general solution, they’ll be helping more than just Ron.”

“Mungo’s would attract more participants if they offer the winner a big reward, like a sponsored research opportunity,” Draco said.

“Do you think your parents would be open to the idea?” Pansy asked. “They might feel on display.”

“Maybe. If it gets him better, faster…” George said.

“She’s worried he won’t be better by Christmas.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“What’s with the face?” Pansy asked.

“It’s just…” Fred began. “How do I put this?”

“She seems to care more about Ron not eating her cooking than how Ron is doing on a day-to-day basis.” George offered his brother a lopsided smile. “Christmas is her Quidditch World Cup, though.”

“I guess we can forgive,” Fred said.

“Okay, enough serious talk. Let’s talk quidditch,” George said.

“Speaking of which, Harry, you really are a beautiful flier,” Marcus said dreamily.

“Hey!” Draco shouted. “He’s 11, Marcus. How much have you had to drink?”

Marcus snapped his attention to Draco, appalled. “What?! He does fly beautifully. For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, I’m not a lech. I didn’t mean it any other way.” At the sight of Draco’s narrowed eyes, Marcus held up his hands and went to sit next to Adrian. “The first years are intense.”

———

Before any of his dorm mates were awake, Harry went to see Snape. He’d checked the map and knew the professor was awake. Howell was on his shoulders, and he’d left a note with Midha to give to Draco when he awoke.

Snape opened the door to the potions classroom. “Why am I not surprised it’s you?” He led the way to his office and automatically put up wards. “It’s early, Menace.”

“What do you think of the contest idea?! Do you think you could get them to go for it?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Why are you so excited about this?”

Harry’s eyes widened further. “How could I not be?! It’s brilliant all around! Contests drive innovation: it offers a solution that doesn’t screw over the students. Plus, it offers the perfect opportunity” — Harry grinned maniacally — “for you to raise your reputation!”

“Mr. Potter, it’s early and you are very hyper. First, the responsible question: as your head of house… how would the students be ‘screwed over’?”

Harry blew out a breath, stunned. “Sir, the betting pool!”

“The betting pool?” Snape drawled.

“Of course! If I undo the spell, then it’s like I’m determining the winner; the house would know I did something, at least eventually. That would be bad for morale, sir, especially since we all came together for this. Furthermore, if Slytherin is suspected of rigging the results, the other houses would be angry. It’s a school-wide pool, sir. All four houses are represented. Bullying has been less frequent too. I don’t want to put an extra target on our backs.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had a feeling you could undo the spell. That’s why I didn’t ask. I’m supposed to feel obliged to return Mr. Weasley to rights.” The professor looked at Harry pointedly.

“That’s the best part, sir! You will! You’ll enter your name in the contest, get the data St. Mungo’s has collected, and tap into your resources here at the school!” Harry bounced in his seat. “You could even start an advanced study group with this! Sir, you will look like a saint!” Harry’s eyes glistened with joy. “Imagine how unbelievably hacked off Dumbledore will be when your name rises. What could he be outwardly mad about? Hmm? You’re already involved. I bet they’ve had you searching for a potions-based solution. You’d be helping one of his precious Gryffindors, and you’d be bringing positive attention to the school.”

“Mr. Potter, I admire your enthusiasm; there are limits to how much I can provoke the headmaster.”

Harry shook his head vigorously. “No, sir, because I haven’t even told you the best part. If you are the winner, an ‘anonymous benefactor’ will invest in you. You’ll be building the foundation for your future life!”

“An anonymous benefactor?” Snape furrowed his brow. “I don’t need money, Mr. Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes and waved his hands. “Would you stop? Please, listen, Sev.” Snape narrowed his eyes. “Print. You’re name in print. The news of your anonymous benefactor in print. You will very publicly be encouraged to use your skills for wide-reaching influence. You know very well that if you come up with a solution to this, the value of the research alone is immeasurable. This is not about fixing Ron or showboating. This is about capitalizing on an opportunity to address problems beyond Ron’s.”

Snape sat back, his mind starting to imagine the possibilities. “You’re scarier than your mother.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. “So, what do you think of the contest?”

“Who do you have in mind for the benefactor, Mr. Potter?”

“What did Dumbledore say about Quirrell?”

Snape exhaled audibly. “He concluded that a first year, new to the magical world, and therefore to quidditch, was likely to let nerves get the better of him during a match.”

Harry snorted. Sounds about right… “Do you have any advice for dealing with Quirrell?”

“I suggest you put even more distance between you. Do not confront him or even look at him differently. Do you believe you will be able to guide Mr. Malfoy in that direction?” Harry nodded. “I will continue to monitor the situation and do what I can to minimize his access. Come to me with anything, Mr. Potter, even a niggle of a feeling that he’s after you again. Do you understand?”

”Yes, sir… So… Could we talk about the contest now please?”

Snape sighed. “I was planning on sharing the idea with Madam Pomfrey, but you’ve inspired me to approach this more creatively.” Harry grinned. “I assume the study group element to this charade is because of students like Ms. Fawley and Mr. Nott.”

“I wouldn’t call it a charade.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Gemma and Theo would love to discuss this in greater detail. Anyone from Slytherin who joins your group would offer great ideas,” Harry said mischievously. “Open it up to the school, and the Weasley twins could join. They are creative thinkers and can offer insight into the mind of Mr. Ronald Weasley,” Harry said, finishing in a mock-spooky voice.

“You can’t join the group,” Snape said almost apologetically.

“No, I know; however, feel free to bring me in for private parseltongue trials if it will help you achieve your goals sooner.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that I had already been thinking of a spell and potion approach.”

“There’s a ‘don’t be an ass’ spell, then?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Snape snorted, sighed, and shook his head. “It’s time to end our meeting. Go, eat, study. You’ll soon learn if I was successful.”

———

Snape worked fast. Within two days, the contest had not only been announced, but he already had two study groups formed: one would look at the problem from a potions angle, the other from a spell angle. Much to Snape’s pleasure, the groups weren’t overly large either. Most Slytherins were content with updates; without the promise of extra credit or house points, many from the other houses were put off entirely.

A week after the groups’ formation, the other professors were impressed to the point of considering their own. After the charms lesson in which Professor Flitwick announced such an interest, asking for students to think of and submit potential topics, Harry stayed behind. Draco and his other friends were waiting for him in the hall.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?”

“I thought of an idea but I didn’t want to mention it in front of everyone. The general topic isn’t sensitive, but the reason I thought of it is.”

“Go on, Mr. Potter,” Flitwick said encouragingly.

“Wards. More specifically, wards that could prevent or alert the teachers to instances of bullying.”

Flitwick looked at him with concerned eyes. “Mr. Potter, have you been the target of bullying?”

“It depends on how you interpret Ron Weasley’s actions towards me, but this isn’t about me. Slytherins are easy targets because the idea that we are ‘on a dark path’ is practically encouraged. Beyond that, I think younger students from all houses are more vulnerable. They are smaller, less skilled in magic, and even less likely to speak up because they are still getting familiar with the castle. Most have not had the opportunity to bond with older students.”

Flitwick sighed and pressed his forehead. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Harry couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Potter. Over the years, there have been concerns about Hogwarts’ wards. Some believe they have faded with time, but replacing them would be an insult to the founders’ memory.”

“Is there not a way to revive or strengthen what remains?”

“Now that is a question that ties into a much larger discussion.” Flitwick perked up, seemingly out of nowhere. “I find the idea of discussing the ethics of warding to be-”

The door suddenly opened, and the headmaster entered. “Ah, Filius, do you know a cluster of Slytherins is waiting to speak with you?” His tone was jovial, but the twinkle was absent from his eyes.

“Actually, Headmaster, they are waiting for me. I wanted to ask Professor Flitwick a question about charms for familiars.”

“Charms for familiars? What do you mean, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked searchingly.

“Well, Headmaster, my familiar has seemed more sluggish, and I’d like to create a warmer space for him. I did consider a tank with warming stones, but he doesn’t seem-”

Dumbledore put up a hand. “Mr. Potter, I do not believe Professor Flitwick has the time to discuss such matters.” The headmaster glanced briefly at the charms professor. “He may even consider it beneath his level of expertise.” Dumbledore chuckled as if he’d said something absolutely delightful.

Harry turned his wide eyes on Flitwick. “I’m sorry, sir. I just thought it might be an interesting topic for your study group, but... you are far too skilled to discuss such a limited topic.”

Flitwick picked up the thread. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Potter. I appreciate your interest. I’ll see if I can think of a book to recommend.”

Harry nodded shyly. “I’d like that, thank you. I should go. Goodbye.” Harry meekly walked out of the room. When he saw his friends, he rolled his eyes and jerked his head. He was eager to put more distance between himself and the headmaster.

Chapter Text

In the teacher’s lounge the next morning, Professor Flitwick hoped today was the day Professor Snape visited. The potions professor spent minimal time in the lounge, preferring to access the provided amenities elsewhere. However, much like the mandatory rounds, lounge visits were unavoidable. Staff meetings didn't count because the headmaster liked seeing his “staff socialize.” For his part, Flitwick didn't mind the lounge, but he felt there were more pleasant places to grade papers and drink tea. With Dumbledore’s presence, the chances of seeing Snape increased; the Slytherin knew the best times to make an appearance.

When the surly potions master walked in, he arched an eyebrow at the headmaster. He seemed to communicate: I’m here; happy?

“Good morning, Severus,” Dumbledore greeted brightly. Snape narrowed his eyes and sat down. Unlike Flitwick, he’d brought nothing to occupy his time.

“Severus, hello! I was wondering if we might have a chat soon.” Snape crinkled his brow. “The students are so excited about your study groups. I find myself inspired and want to pick your brain about some ideas I’m considering.”

“You see, Severus, aren’t you glad you took on more students than just a couple of Slytherins?” Dumbledore asked patronizingly.

“Albus, you got your way. Gloating is unbecoming,” Snape responded snarkily, and Dumbledore laughed. Then Snape turned to Flitwick. “I do not think I will be of much use to you, Filius, but we can meet. Send me a note with your proposed times.” Snape then fled the lounge.

“Filius,” Dumbledore said playfully, “I do believe, between the two of us, we’ll get him to come around to appreciating the art of teaching.”

Flitwick smiled politely and then proceeded to fix a cup of tea.

———

Flitwick met with Snape that evening. He had invited Snape to his quarters since the wards wouldn’t be out of place there. The charms professor was known for his experimentation, especially since he practiced dueling. He’d layered privacy spells the night before and checked them throughout the day. Flitwick hadn’t known when Snape would agree to meet and wanted to be ready.

This will help to avoid suspicions, Flitwick thought. Then he shivered at the discomfort of questioning the headmaster.

Snape was not one to waste time. As soon as he was settled with a beverage, he asked, “What is this really about?”

“Mr. Potter.”

“Of course.” Snape downed his drink and poured another. “Are you going to continue, or do I need to ask a series of questions to unlock the mystery?”

“He suggested wards as a topic for the charms study group.”

“Slytherins are often intrigued by various forms of protection.”

“He was particularly interested in wards that address bullying.”

“Again, he’s a Slytherin.” Snape put his drink down and ran a hand down the front of his face. “Flilius, I have a lot on. Just say whatever it is you wish to say.”

“There’s something unusual about the boy, Severus. Albus entered my classroom when Mr. Potter was talking to me, and the boy steered the conversation away from the topic.”

“Mr. Potter makes no secret of his distrust for the headmaster.” Snape crossed his legs, looking bored.

“I knew he mistrusted Albus; I imagined it was mostly due to the headmaster’s irregular interest. Yet the skill he demonstrated…”

“He’s a Slytherin.” Snape exhaled audibly and stood. “Filius, don’t doubt yourself.”

“If he asks, Severus” — Flitwick rocked the drink in his hand gently — “say we were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of focusing on the ethics of wards.”

“There are many, and it’s only natural for students to wonder about the wards of such a majestic castle.”

“And so long as the topic is handled with care, there could be no real harm,” Flitwick added.

“Precisely.” Snape walked towards the door.

“Severus,” Flitwick said, and Snape turned back. “Mr. Potter told the headmaster that he was interested in charms that might bring comfort to familiars.”

Snape chuckled. “That’s a real interest. He’s got the whole of Slytherin thinking about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if another student suggested the topic.”

“It’s not uncommon to place wards around enclosures for pets.”

“No, it’s not.” Snape dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Stop doubting yourself, Flitwick. It’s unnerving.” Filius snorted humorlessly, and Snape left without another word.

———

The “solution” for Ron’s problem was “discovered” a week before Christmas. Ron was confused when some of the students in the Great Hall groaned at the announcement. Were they really that disappointed to have him in the hall for meals again? He noted some furious discussion at the Slytherin table and sneered. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but Ron figured it was bound to be evil. Then he noticed his twin brothers staring excitedly at the Slytherin table.

“Why are you so interested in what’s going on over there?” Ron asked irritatedly.

“Ronniekins, why aren’t you more excited?” Fred asked.

“This is good news!” George shouted.

“It is indeed, Mr. Weasley. Still, it’s best that I continue; wouldn’t you agree?” George nodded sheepishly, a faint blush on his cheeks. “As I was saying, the cure was created by our very own Professor Severus Snape.” Dumbledore gestured broadly in his direction, and the students applauded politely. Snape nodded once in acknowledgment, but otherwise, he looked exactly the same. Harry had to suppress laughter.

“The St. Mungo’s team of specialists, who’ve been diligently working on Mr. Weasley’s case, verified and approved Professor Snape’s protocol. For his efforts, Professor Snape will receive a prize that includes” — Dumbledore paused dramatically and gazed around the room dramatically — “the publication of an article in ‘Curative Chronicle’ regarding this discovery. I, for one, look forward to reading about the help he found within this esteemed castle.” Dumbledore smiled benevolently. “St. Mungo’s will soon arrange for Mr. Weasley’s restoration at a time most convenient to him. Please join me in a round of applause in celebration.”

The hall of students clapped politely, and again, Ron noticed a discussion at the Slytherin table. He guessed they were planning their next prank against him.

Back in the Slytherin common room, Daphne slammed her bag on a table. “This is a disaster!” She began pacing. “How are we going to decide who wins the pool? It’s over a thousand galleons! Everyone in Slytherin placed a bet. That already increased the odds of the winner being a Slytherin. Now the HEAD of Slytherin discovered the solution…” Daphne shook her head. “This is bad. Really, really bad.”

Put like that, her logic seemed sound. The room was silent. It was then that their head of house joined them. Still, no one said anything, too stunned by the timing of his arrival. Snape indicated his chosen chair, and the occupant jumped up.

“Ms. Greengrass, might I suggest you request a meeting with a representative from each house to ask their opinions? Go to this meeting prepared with solutions; see which one appeals to them most. You have documentation of the bets. It’s clear you’ve done your part.” Half the Slytherins turned to Daphne; the others stayed focused on Snape.

Daphne nodded jerkily and pulled out her parchment. “I think I can make that work. Thank you, sir.”

“No congratulations from my own house.” Snape shook his head. “I’m disappointed, truly,” Snape said sardonically. He snapped his fingers, and a table with refreshments appeared. “Now that it’s just us, and the solution has been found, I want the details of how all of this came about. What is the spell you used? How was it cast? What is the counter? And if you’re in a generous mood, I’d appreciate knowing whose wand you used.”

“Oh! That was me!” Miriam started the ball rolling. “We used the fact that I often skip breakfast in the hall to our advantage.”

Snape nodded in approval. “I’m glad to see you getting more involved, Ms. Capp.”

“Sir, I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages!” Gemma said. “The counter is a simple ‘Finite Incantatem’ in Parseltongue. We wanted to make sure we could undo it if needed.”

“Was that on your insistence, Ms. Fawley?” Snape asked, knowingly. Gemma smiled shyly.

“It was, sir,” Draco said. “She made sure we were somewhat protected in case of discovery.”

“Marcus wanted the counter to only work on a Wednesday but only if it was a full moon,” Vincent added boisterously.

“Ambitious, Mr. Flint,” Snape said. “I feel obliged to tell you that the specialists’ protocols would have been able to detect those caveats. Their testing has become very thorough. I suspect collaborations with the Department of Mysteries.”

Marcus frowned. “That’s a bummer.”

"That said, the academic pursuit would have been rewarding in other ways,” Snape said. Marcus nodded, drifting into his thoughts.

“The older years led the charge on the actual spell creation, but the incantation used was ‘edibilis terror’ spoken in Parseltongue. It will nonetheless work in more common languages. The real trick is the wand movement and intent,” Theo said.

“Yes, we figured out that the spell reacts differently depending on who casts it and who it is cast on,” Gemma said.

Adrian added, “There were a lot of trials, especially when trying to decide which date to place our bets on.”

The conversation continued, and Harry was pleased to see the look on Snape’s face. He’d chosen to celebrate with his Slytherins. Harry was even more convinced that the “anonymous backer” would be extremely generous.

———

With some controversy, but not nearly as much as there would have been without the meeting Snape suggested, the winnings of the pool would be split 3 ways. This would address the issue that arose with the unexpected “scheduling” of Ron’s re-establishment. The winners would be the ones who bet closest to the dates the solution was discovered, announced, and administered. An additional rule was put in place for the final date: any tampering and you forfeit your winnings. Investigations would be thorough.

Ron inadvertently made Harry the third winner by choosing the start of Yule to receive the cure. Harry’s bet, placed with Draco’s encouragement, was spot on; thus, his blondest friend expected an “extravagant Yule gift” for his assistance. The first two winners were Sunila and Fred, respectively.

“What will you do with your newfound wealth, twins?” Sunila asked. The boys frowned. “Shit, sorry I asked.” She made an “I’m out of here” face at Harry and left.

They were in the Slytherin common room. It was safe for the twins to show their emotion; that didn’t mean that the Slytherins knew what to do about it.

“I’m going to get some snacks,” Daphne said. “Theo, you coming?” Theo closed his book and joined her.

“I’m coming too,” Pansy and Blaise said together. Draco looked at Harry and grimaced.

“You snakes can be so weird,” George said.

“Winning makes us happy,” Draco said. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“We all agree!” Marcus shouted across the common room, and the twins saw many nods of agreement.

The twins chuckled pitifully. This time, Harry tried. “I’m going to take a wild guess: is this about your mom?”

The twins looked up, surprised. “How’d you know?” Harry shrugged.

“If she learns about this…” George began.

“All she’ll say is how disappointed she is in us for going against the family…” Fred said.

“We can’t be excited about it, you know? We can’t spend it, or it will be suspicious—”

Fred cut George off to stop Draco’s predictable interjection. “We know we can hide it.”

“The point is: we can’t do what we want to do,” George said.

“Yeah, we can’t say we came into some money and then lavish our family with presents…”

“We can’t joke about how a positive came out of Ron’s discomfort.”

“Okay, I want to sympathize; I do… I think I do, anyway…” Harry said.

“But we can’t,” Draco said. He stood up and swiftly smacked both Weasleys on the side of their heads.

“Ow!”

Harry nodded in approval. “You have two older brothers you can be more honest with, for one.”

“And,” Draco continued, “you can still spend money on gifts. You just have to be creative about it. Have you not been careful so far?” Fred nodded and George looked deep in thought.

“Exactly. Buy pricier components and make gifts. See it as more experimenting. Your mum doesn’t pay enough attention to your creations to figure it out; I doubt your dad would blow your cover, even if he felt something was off,” Harry said.

“We agree!” Adrian shouted.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the older Slytherins. “Do you have any idea how weird it is for you to be so invested in this conversation?” Draco made a shooing gesture with both hands. Marcus and Adrian shook their heads and turned away.

“I told you. So intense,” Marcus said.

———

Harry was planning to spend the winter holidays with the Malfoys. Draco had floated the idea, and after Harry showed interest, he quickly arranged for his mother to send a formal invitation to his guardian. Medallion informed Harry via their communication journals, confirmed he was amenable, and had Gringotts accept on his behalf. He’d expected to spend some time with the goblins, but Medallion insisted that Harry focus on his “entrance into the human world” first. They could perhaps meet for tea one day during his break; otherwise, she would be available if he needed anything. Since Harry had no intention of bothering Medallion for trivial matters, he expected he wouldn’t see her at all, except for maybe the potential tea. Dumbledore, as it happened, gave Harry the perfect opportunity to see her sooner than expected.

As Harry was leaving the castle with the rest of the students, Dumbledore made a spectacle of himself. “Mister Potter, I’m sorry to inform you that you will not be leaving the castle for the holiday break. Did your guardian not tell you? The Minister of Magic and I agree that you are too vulnerable to be spending time with strangers. I did write to your guardian: if they do not collect you personally, you will not be allowed to leave the castle.”

The Slytherins were aghast, but of course, they revealed little. Harry turned to Draco and grabbed his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it’s only a few weeks,” Dumbledore said. Harry, still looking at Draco, shook his head infinitesimally. Draco nodded and gestured for their friends to keep going.

“See you soon, Potter,” Draco said. Pansy broke composure to glare at Dumbledore like she was trying to set him on fire.

“Ms. Parkinson” — Snape stepped closer — “focus on where you are going.”

Pansy’s eyes flicked to Snape. “Yes, sir.” Daphne gave her arm a little tug, and they resumed their exit.

McGonagall, who had been on the other side of the castle doors, returned with a confused look on her face. “Mr. Potter, you’ll miss the carriages if you don’t hurry.”

“Minerva, as I informed you, Mr. Potter will be staying in the castle,” Dumbledore said.

“Albus,” McGonagall chided, “we received notice from his guardian via Gringotts that he was allowed to stay with the Malfoys.”

“The minister and I feel—”

“Albus, we have discussed this at length. No other student is being watched as closely as you are watching Mr. Potter. Your behavior is—”

“Minerva.” Dumbledore raised his voice and gestured towards Harry. “These are matters best discussed in my office. Now, you know very well that Mr. Potter is a special case.”

Harry turned to Snape. “Sir, would you please escort me back to the dungeons? I have a formal request I’d like to make of you.” Snape looked at Dumbledore and McGonagall before returning his attention to Harry.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. Come along,” Snape said.

———

As soon as they were “out of hearing distance,” Harry spoke. “Sir, would you please floo Gringotts on my behalf, and tell them that the headmaster has not allowed me to leave as planned? It would be faster than sending an owl.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter. Let us go to my office.” Snape was well aware that this was all for show: Harry assumed Dumbledore was listening. So once they were in his office, Snape checked to confirm that Harry did not want the wards. He gestured with his wand, and Harry shook his head. “Sit down, Mr. Potter, while I make the call.”

Harry nodded and waited. Harry didn’t know who Snape spoke to, but when he returned, he said, “They’ll send someone to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore today.”

“Thank you, sir. Should I return to the common room?”

“You are welcome to sit here and wait. I do not believe Gringotts will delay in sending representation.” Harry smiled and pulled out the journal connected to Draco’s.

Within the hour, Snape and Harry were summoned to Dumbledore’s office. McGonagall was already waiting for them beside the gargoyle. When they were in front of the headmaster’s desk, Dumbledore smiled broadly. “Mr. Potter, I’ve been informed that someone will arrive shortly to clarify matters.”

Harry nodded and allowed his eyes to study his surroundings. It’s natural for a child to be curious, right? I’ve never had downtime here… Whoa! Harry spotted a large bird and walked over. Hi there, feathered fellow… He tipped his head to the side, and Fawkes copied him. Harry smiled.

“That’s Fawkes, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said. “He is my loyal companion.”

Harry kept his attention on Fawkes. Oh, dude… Why?

“He is a phoenix, and it’s very rare for such a majestic creature to choose…”

Seriously, Fawkes. WHY?

While Dumbledore rambled on, Severus set up the table and recording orb. McGonagall noticed him doing so and nodded approvingly.

“I don’t believe he’s been here during our other meetings,” Dumbledore concluded.

“We missed each other that many times, huh? Were you avoiding me?” Fawkes trilled, and Harry laughed. “If you say so.” The phoenix tipped their head to the other side; Harry copied him, and Fawkes warbled again. Dumbledore watched them curiously; Snape conveyed nothing; McGonagall smiled, pleased.

“Ah! I believe our visitor is arriving,” Dumbledore said.

The fireplace lit up, but Harry’s reaction was brighter when he saw who had come through. “Madam Medallion!” The boy rushed forward to greet her with a proud bow. “May your gold ever flow.”

Medallion nodded back. “May your enemies cower before you.”

Harry grinned. “It’s so good to see you! Come, sit. After this, I have to show you—”

“Mr. Potter, if you recall, this goblin has come to discuss more prescient matters,” Dumbledore said.

Harry’s eyes hardened but stayed focused on the goblin. A foreboding feeling crept along Snape’s shoulders. “Madam Medallion, please excuse me for not introducing you properly. Let’s begin from your right. This is Slytherin’s head of house, Hogwarts’ potions master, and potions professor, Severus Snape. This is Hogwarts’ deputy headmistress, Gryffindor’s head of house, and transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall. This” — Harry gestured to Dumbledore — “is the headmaster, and this” — Harry’s voice raised excitedly — “is Fawkes. We kind of just met today. Everyone, this is Madam Medallion.”

“Well met,” Snape and McGonagall said, bowing slightly.

Dumbledore looked at them strangely. “Mr. Potter, do attempt to focus. We are here to discuss a very serious matter.” The headmaster turned to Madam Medallion. “Goblin, I was under the impression that Mr. Potter’s magical guardian would be arriving to explain the situation.”

Harry stepped forward. It was just one step; the boy did not block her; yet, to all but Headmaster Dumbledore, the message was clear. “You’ll refer to her as Madam Medallion.” The boy’s voice was icy, especially for one so young, but the headmaster was unmoved.

Madam Medallion placed a careful hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Mr. Potter, allow me to do what I’ve been tasked with achieving today.” Harry turned to her and smiled. He nodded once and stepped back, watching Dumbledore keenly.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, I visited with the Minister of Magic before coming here today. He has withdrawn his support for the restriction that was unceremoniously imposed on Mr. Potter. You, representing Hogwarts, stand alone. Furthermore, I have brought along a casket” — Medallion enlarged a rectangular box — “that is charmed to collect any property that belongs to Mr. Potter, not currently in his possession. Gringotts has been conducting a very thorough audit of Mr. Potter’s vaults, as per his guardian’s instruction. The tracking of missing items has led us, among other places, here. Out of respect for the sanctity of this school, we were waiting to be invited to begin our search. Today’s unexpected meeting has presented the perfect opportunity. I will begin.”

Medallion tapped the trunk; it opened hungrily. Items began flying towards it from several directions. Dumbledore stumbled over his shock and made attempts to explain. No one listened as they watched the sheer volume of items finding their way into the casket. Harry hoped there wasn’t more in other areas of the castle. This was uncomfortable enough. When the flow slowed, Dumbledore attempted to explain again.

“Mr. Potter, I assure you there’s a reasonable explanation for—”

“Albus, it is best to remember that Mr. Potter is 11. Explanations should be directed to Gringotts or his guardian, care of Gringotts. Isn’t that right, Madam Medallion?” McGonagall said.

“Yes,” Madam Medallion replied, but her eyes were on Dumbledore. The headmaster looked to be suppressing disdain. His success was minimal.

Snape decided to interrupt the increasing uncomfortableness. “Madam Medallion, will you be leaving with Mr. Potter?”

She shook her head, looked at Harry reassuringly, and turned her attention to the Slytherin head of house. “No, Professor Snape. I believe Lady Malfoy will come to collect him as soon as she concludes her business at Gringotts. As I was sent to meet with the Minister of Magic, that part of the discussion is unknown to me.”

“Why would Narcissa Malfoy be collecting young Harry?”

“Presumably because her home is where he was meant to go, Albus.” McGonagall sounded most unimpressed.

“Precisely,” Madam Medallion said. Then she returned her attention to Harry. “You wanted to show me something?” Harry nodded eagerly. Snape thought it was a near thing that the boy did not take her hand. “Then lead the way, Mr. Potter.” Harry offered his arm to her, and she took it. Every human observer, including the portraits, was surprised. Harry didn’t notice, too pleased with the turn of events.

“Medallion, I cannot allow just anyone to roam the halls unescorted,” Dumbledore said.

Harry looked at him coldly. “Headmaster, she is my guest. Though you may have invited her to the castle, I have every intention of maximizing this unforeseen opportunity. Besides, it’s probably best that we take this charmed trunk here on a tour of the castle as well.” Harry smiled softly at Madam Medallion. “Shall we?” She nodded, and they led the way out of the headmaster’s office; the casket bobbed along.

“I’ll stay with them, Headmaster,” Snape offered.

“As will I, Albus, at least while the trunk is still open.” McGonagall looked sympathetic; internally, she fumed.

“Thank you, both. There’s no telling what they might get up to, unsupervised.” The two professors nodded their goodbyes and caught sight of Harry and Medallion, already by the gargoyle. The boy was expressively discussing something they couldn’t quite make out. There seemed to be a sound-muffling charm around them, making it appear to casual onlookers as if they were whispering.

The professors followed along, giving the pair space. To McGonagall's dismay, more items found their way into the chest. It was mostly books, one she recognized from her office. There were also a few portraits; she found that uniquely horrifying.

“Severus, tell me the truth… Have we stumbled into some alternate universe?”

Snape snorted. “No.” After a beat, he continued. “Then again, it’s possible that you did, and I am of this universe.”

McGonagall shook her head, grateful for a touch of levity. “I’m overwhelmed by the disappointment I feel, Severus.” Her voice was soft, and Snape looked at her with understanding.

When they reached the dungeons, a book floated towards the trunk from the direction of Snape’s quarters. Instead of finding its way into the casket, it hung midair between Harry and Severus.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, the muffling charm dissolved.

Snape looked at the book sadly. “It’s a journal with potions notes. The late Lily Potter and I were contemplating publishing a series of potions books.”

Madam Medallion said, “I would appreciate it if you could provide us with 2 copies: one for the trunk and one for Mr. Potter. I’m sure he’d appreciate reading through it.”

“I would,” Harry said, both thankfully to Medallion and kindly to Snape.

The professor nodded. “I will return to my office to make sure the copies are of equal caliber. Where shall I meet you?”

“The kitchens, sir.” Harry beamed. There was evidently something there that the boy was excited to show Madam Medallion.

———

Snape rejoined them in the kitchens; they were sitting around a table, drinking tea, and enjoying an odd assortment of refreshments. He recognized the pasties for what they were: Harry’s idea. Snape checked with Madam Medallion before moving to place a copy of the potions journal in the trunk. When his hand was near enough, the book wriggled free to continue its journey alone. Afterward, though, the casket remained open.

Madam Medallion responded to the professor’s unasked question. “There are likely other items within the castle that belong to Mr. Potter: we’ve not gotten close enough for the items to find their way. I’ll return what I have collected to Gringotts for the auditor’s review and proceed from there.” Madam Medallion made a mental note to provide a similarly functioning device to Harry since he’d have more time in, and access to, the castle.

Snape nodded and prepared to ask another question. As he sat down, however, a house elf walked over with his favorite biscuits. The elf was wearing a very nice tunic with flowers on the hem that seemed to move when they walked. Though momentarily distracted, Snape returned to his original agenda. “What did you want to show Madam Medallion in the kitchens, Mr. Potter?”

Before Harry could answer, McGonagall gestured towards the house elf who had just given him biscuits. “It seems our Mr. Potter has gifted the Hogwarts house elves supplies to make new clothing.” Snape’s eyes widened minutely.

“Not to worry, I triple-checked before deciding how to proceed. I ordered bolts of fabric, custom-made for their specific needs. It’s their holiday gift, but I gave it to them early so that they could have new outfits by this time of year.” Harry looked upon the elves, admiring their apparel. “They’ve made such cool items. Twy’s choices, though, you’ve just got to see.” Harry stood up, presumably to go find “Twy.”

“Twy” was a young elf named Twyla. She chose to “embrace messiness” and arranged for her dress to bloom flowers anywhere there would otherwise be a stain. A pretty selection of wildflowers was scattered across the front. “It’s also a great way to make sure it’s clean,” she said happily. When she returned to her work, Harry continued gushing.

“Isn’t that brilliant?! It’s like a blank canvas that can tell her story in flowers at the end of a long day.” McGonagall and Snape exchanged a look. Madam Medallion just kept sipping her tea, quietly enjoying Harry’s company, and observing the two professors. She was well informed, but Medallion appreciated the opportunity to carry out her own assessment.

When it was time for Madam Medallion to leave, she chose the front exit of the castle. The casket was floating next to her; she would not close it until she left the grounds. Snape noticed the look in Harry’s eyes: the boy absolutely adored Madam Medallion. Then, Harry took it even further. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a gift bag. The goblin narrowed her eyes, but there was no heat.

Harry chuckled. “I know you said no gifts, but this is the consequence of convincing me to get gifts for the Dursleys. There’s something specifically for you, but the rest are for you to pass along as you decide best.” Harry stood determinedly until Madam Medallion nodded. Snape thought he saw approval in her face.

“Expect something from me, then, as well,” Madam Medallion said.

“You know me. I’ll be happy with a steak pasty.” Harry shrugged shyly.

Just then, Professor Flitwick spotted them. “May I ask what is going on here? You make an eye-catching group, I must say.” Snape noticed the charms professor searching Madam Medallion’s face.

“Oh, Professor Flitwick, this is Madam Medallion. She came to discuss my holiday arrangements with the headmaster.” Harry seemed oblivious to the tension easing from his professor’s shoulders. “Madam Medallion, this is Ravenclaw’s head of house and Hogwarts’ charms professor, Filius Flitwick. He lent me the book that’s helping me with Howell’s space.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Professor Flitwick. Mr. Potter is committed to providing his familiar with more suitable accommodations. So I can assure you his gratitude is far more than it appears.” Madam Medallion placed a hand on Harry’s. “I must go. Professor Flitwick, would you kindly escort me to the gates? I would like to update you personally on what you missed.”

Chapter Text

Harry sat on the steps of Hogwarts, staring in the direction of the forest. He had no desire to return to the Slytherin common room alone or chat with students staying at the castle. Harry planned to leave and refused to indicate otherwise.

Howell hissed quietly, lounging across his lap. Midha had flown on ahead; if things went according to plan — well, the new plan, Harry thought — they’d arrive at Malfoy Manor before she did. Professor Snape was nearby, in a deep discussion with Mistress McGonagall. Harry imagined they were enjoying a bit of a reprieve from the headmaster. He didn’t know what the interloper was doing, but they all knew he’d show up again soon.

Harry spotted Professor Flitwick on his return to the castle. He wasn’t alone, and the blonde beside him brought a smile to Harry’s face. Time to go! Harry gently shifted Howell so that he could stand; they were well-practiced in silent communication. Habits were key to the management of his Parseltongue secret.

———

Snape escorted Harry down to the dungeons one more time. “Your belongings are well-traveled today, Mr. Potter. Ensure nothing is amiss.” The boy looked up and smiled before quickening his pace.

Before the professor and his charge left the common room, Harry pulled something out of his pocket. “Sir, this isn’t a gift. If it were, I’d feel the need to give one to other professors; I cannot do that without considering the headmaster… This” — the boy glanced at the plain-looking box — “is just something I found and thought you might like. It isn’t even wrapped. See. It’s not a gift; think of it like a considerate acquisition.” Harry thrust the box in Snape’s direction.

The professor furrowed his brows as he accepted the not-gift. Snape opened the box slowly and chuckled. “Snakeskin?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what kind. I just thought it looked cool and had a feeling you’d agree. I collected it as carefully as I could; I even wore gloves. There’s a lot more if you like it. Just let me know.”

The words “a lot more” floated in the professor’s head. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. It seems you’ve considerately acquired a mystery for me.”

Harry grinned. “I know, I know. I’m a lot of work. Let’s go. I don’t want Lady Malfoy to think that I’m having reservations.” They both knew the delay would be more unsettling for the professors attending to her.

———

In their absence, Flitwick’s company had been swapped for the headmaster’s. A poor trade, Harry thought, but he was glad to see Dumbledore looked unsettled.

Lady Malfoy and Mistress McGonagall were not afflicted with the same eerie stillness. So Harry joined them and looked expectantly at Draco’s mother.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Narcissa smiled pleasantly; in a voice just for him, she asked, “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry grinned.

Lady Malfoy nodded and then faced the others. “As much as I’m enjoying your company, I’m eager for the holiday to begin.” She then offered her hand to the boy. “Shall we?”

Harry placed his hand in hers and waved goodbye with the other. Snape wasn’t surprised by the non-verbal communication. The boy had talked a lot that day and probably needed the rest.

As the unexpected pair descended the castle steps, Snape silently marveled at how “right” the sight seemed.

McGonagall articulated his feelings: “Will wonders never cease?”

“Severus, we must find out their intentions for Mr. Potter. Can you secure an invitation to the Malfoy residence?”

McGonagall sighed exasperatedly and stormed off.

Undeterred, Dumbledore led Snape back to his office for a 40-minute conversation about speculations and strategies. In the end, Dumbledore decided that Snape would aim for no less than 3 visits to Malfoy Manor over the break. It wouldn’t be difficult to achieve, of course, but Dumbledore needn’t know.

———

Harry walked with Lady Malfoy in companionable silence. He found it a little odd to be holding her hand for so long; Draco often grabbed his hand. Maybe the Malfoys were just hand-holders…

“Is everything alright, Harry?”

The boy blinked. “Yes… Is Draco at the house?”

“That is the advantage of avoiding the train,” she teased.

Harry blushed. “I meant… I thought maybe Lord Malfoy may have taken him somewhere nice… as a treat. I know parents do that sometimes… And it’s the end of the term.”

Lady Malfoy squeezed his hand. “Any special outings this holiday will include you both. Lucius and I had considered visiting a nice cafe, but the headmaster’s antics became a priority.”

Harry hummed. “He is meddlesome.”

An understatement… Narcissa smiled down at the boy, but he was already staring into the distance.

Once past the gates, Lady Malfoy explained their transportation options: apparition and floo. Harry liked being offered a real choice; they were even walking in the direction of the nearby village, where they could access a public floo. The boy was certain the lady’s preference was apparition, but she was sincere in her offer to floo instead.

Harry considered his options while taking in the surroundings. They were nice, but Harry was disappointed to have missed the carriage ride with his friends. Dumbledore, it seemed, was determined to separate him from others.

Exiling me only whetted his appetite for control… Asshole! A desire to leave the area as soon as possible swept over Harry; he needed to be somewhere Dumbledore could not follow. So he mentally prepared for apparition. Hang on… How do I prepare for being squeezed like a lemon? Fuck it…

“Lady Malfoy, I choose apparition,” Harry said resolutely.

She smiled knowingly. “It’s dramatic and difficult to prepare for, but experience helps. I will keep you safe and whole.” She put an arm around his shoulders. “Hold close.”

Harry found the weird sensations vaguely familiar. Howell offered a grounding pressure against his torso, but his mind still drifted. He wondered how many times he’d been apparated as a baby... Why did she not apparate away that night?!

“Harry.” Narcissa studied the boy’s face. “How are you feeling?” Harry nodded and patted Howell through his clothes. “It takes getting used to. Many choose not to apparate, but it’s a skill worth honing.” Harry nodded dazedly. “Stare at one spot until you feel steady.”

Harry did as he was told, and soon, he felt like himself again. Then, he squirmed as Howell dramatically made an appearance, grumbling about ~“volatile travel”~ and the ~“foolishness of humans.”~

Harry stroked him and inhaled deeply. “I’d say apparition is like being squeezed and scrambled.” The lady laughed. “Thank you for collecting me from Hogwarts, Lady Malfoy, and for inviting me to your home for the holidays.”

“You’re very welcome, but I think it’s time you call me Narcissa. Cissa works too.”

Harry smiled. “Okay… Cissa.”

Narcissa nodded approvingly. “Now, Harry, I must tell you: today has been a big day for the Malfoy family. My husband is still adjusting to the resultant changes... You’ll learn more once we’re inside. I want to tell you and Draco together. He knows something has happened but not the specifics.”

“Is it bad?”

“No. Think of it like apparition. The destination was desired, but the journey was a little jarring.”

Harry furrowed his brows. That—

“Harry, if you are ever even a little uncomfortable, please let me know. You may, of course, tell Draco first; however, I wield more influence.” Narcissa grinned slyly, and Harry was surprised to find it comforting.

As they continued along the path toward “the house,” Harry noticed a group of white peacocks. Instinctively, the boy walked over; one, to Narcissa’s surprise, separated from the group and swiftly closed the distance between them.

Before she could warn him to be careful, Harry stroked the bird’s head. “You’re like snow come to life,” he cooed. The peacock nuzzled his hand, and he laughed.

Narcissa exhaled slowly, wanting to avoid drawing attention to her abating tensity. “I think this is a very good sign, Harry. These birds have very discerning tastes and are even more cautious around children. The fact that one has taken a liking to you bodes well.”

“He is lovely,” Harry said, without turning to face her. “I have to go now.” The bird gave Harry one last nuzzle and returned to the others.

“Cissa, I’m sure you know that I am not prepared for the etiquette that is usually expected beyond doors like those.” Harry nodded towards the main entrance. “I’ve picked up some things from my fellow Slytherins, but I’ve not prioritized formalities and such.”

“I think you’ll find that politeness and respect are usually enough to start. You’re young and new to this world. Just keep learning and observing. If you have specific questions, you may ask me. Draco is helpful in this too, but he sometimes gets the smaller details mixed up.”

Harry chuckled, remembering Draco’s irreverent advice: “If you can get away with not doing this shit, do.”

As soon as they entered the building, Draco shouted, “Harry! I didn’t know ‘soon’ meant today! I’m so glad you're here! Let’s go to my room—”

“Darling, first, we all need to have a discussion. Please lead Harry into the family room. I’ll get your father.” Narcissa glided further into her home and disappeared down a hall to the right.

“She’s collecting him from his office.” Draco rolled his eyes. “He’s in a mood.”

“Your mother said today has been a big day, and we would learn more together,” Harry contributed.

“That’s good. I don’t often get to know.” Then, Draco grinned widely and pulled Harry forward. “Come on! You have to see the decorations.”

———

The “decorations” that Draco was most excited about…

Tiny, live fairies! What the fuck?!

“Harry, it’s okay! They’re happy.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I promise! Look!”

Harry studied the scene as Draco continued with his explanation. In short, the fairies were attracted to the ornaments. They do look happy…

“That’s why they sparkle,” Draco elaborated.

Around Yuletide, “the veil thins.” It seemed to Harry: in the way muggles attracted birds and insects to their gardens, wixen households hung a collection of things that might attract little fairies. It wasn’t a foolproof method, but the possibility was exciting.

“Sometimes, they don’t come at all. They have to feel welcome, safe, and interested,” Draco said.

Harry perched on a chair with his hand out, allowing a couple of fairies to inspect him. Howell moved along his arm to conduct his own examination and hissed ~“Hello.”~ One of the fairies zipped away, but the other held their ground.

“He won’t hurt you,” Harry said, and the fairy cautiously returned. “Are you really okay? How will you get back home?” The fairies’ auras brightened before returning to the others. All together again, the effect was almost blinding.

“See, they’re thrilled!” Draco grinned. “Do you think they’d like some music?”

Harry hummed as he watched the fairies engage in a sort of dance around the evergreen boughs. They might, Harry thought, but they didn’t seem to need it. Are they hearing music we cannot?

“Harry?” Narcissa called, and Harry turned towards her. “This is my husband—”

“Heir Potter.” Lord Malfoy inclined his head briefly and sat down.

Harry furrowed his brow. “Hello.” Lord Malfoy sighed and called for refreshments.

“Your Madam Medallion agreed to let me tell you the news; she’s available to discuss this further, should you require.” Harry nodded in acknowledgment. “The headmaster’s extreme actions to keep you in the castle inspired your guardian to offer a more formal alliance with the Malfoy family.

“It was something they were already considering; however, today presented a rare opportunity to ridicule Dumbledore. Alliances between families are sacred within the magical communities. A break with an ally has severe consequences, both publicly and privately. Depending on its nature, a break could affect a family's magic as well. Intent drives us; to betray your original intent has consequences.”

“Mother,” Draco hesitated, “are you saying that the House of Malfoy has officially allied with the House of Potter?” Narcissa nodded.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Harry said carefully. He was struggling to read Draco’s face.

“It means, Mr. Potter, that the Malfoys have committed themselves to supporting you in your endeavors and to protecting you, as needed.” Lord Malfoy had finally spoken; Harry wasn’t sure that was progress. Then, the lord stood abruptly, walked to a corner cabinet, and prepared himself an alcoholic drink.

Harry watched on, confused. Then, he turned to Narcissa. “Did you make the alliance without his consent? He seems upset.”

Narcissa smiled kindly. “Only the head of the family can form the alliance; for the Malfoys, that role falls to my husband. The choice was easy, but Lucius is wrestling with the implications.”

Lord Malfoy nodded, looking nowhere in particular but still listening. Then, he took another sip of his drink.

“Harry!” Draco said excitedly. “This is great news for us. We can more easily tell my parents things. There won’t be a conflict. They’ve chosen.”

Harry turned to Draco briefly but couldn’t match his excitement. So he hummed in acknowledgment before studying Lord Malfoy.

“I can see we all need the news to settle,” Narcissa said. “Boys, your time is yours until dinner. Harry, we’ve put you in the room next to Draco’s. Please, make yourself comfortable.

The boys quickly left; Lord Malfoy looked like he needed time alone. Draco enthusiastically led Harry to the room he would be staying in. It was lovely, but the blond apologized for the “room’s size,” entirely unaware of just how small a space Harry could find life in.

“I wanted you close; I hope you don’t mind. There are larger rooms, but this one is near mine. I promise that the view is the same. Your room doesn’t have a balcony, I know… The window is huge, though! And the seating is ideal! Look…” Draco sat down and patted the window seat.

“Draco, relax. The room is perfect. I like that it’s close to yours,” Harry said, and Draco smiled.

“Okay, let’s get you settled in; then I’ll show you around the house.” Harry concluded that Draco used the word “house” for his benefit; the Malfoys usually, and rightly, referred to their home as “the manor.” It was huge!

Harry might have been more impressed were it not for the stuck-up portraits. One insulted Draco! Harry threatened it with a muggle lighter. The blond was taken aback, amused, and touched.

Harry wondered if he could double back at night and sink the portrait into the wall a bit. Maybe it would mess with the magic enough to trap the asshole in the frame…

“I don’t like the way he talks to you,” Harry said.

“He’s just bitter. He blames me for the quality of his life. When Mother and Father were struggling to have children, he got his hopes up about inheriting.”

“Well, I don’t like him. I don’t care if he’s dead. He deserves to suffer.”

Draco linked his arm with Harry’s. “I appreciate that, but let’s not vandalize the family home without permission. Okay?” Draco watched as Harry’s eyes memorized the twists and turns they were making. “I can see I might have to inform Mother…”

———

Dinner was delicious; the atmosphere, however, was tinged with awkwardness. Lord Malfoy seemed disengaged, only occasionally looking up from his meal to respond to a direct question. Then, too soon, he excused himself from the table.

“He didn’t stay for dessert.” Draco shook his head.

“Cissa, is there anything I can do to help Lord Malfoy feel more comfortable in my presence?” Harry asked.

“It isn’t you, dear. He’s just trying to reconcile what all this means. His former… colleagues, shall we say, will not take kindly to the news. Lucius will also have to reassess how to proceed with those he works alongside in the Ministry,” Narcissa said.

“Harry,” Draco attempted, “you know how when we first started Hogwarts, I warned you that many Slytherins might feel it was disadvantageous to be friendly with you?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry confirmed. “Just last month, Pansy warned me not to get too used to Marcus Flint’s friendliness.”

Draco nodded. “It’s like that for Father, times 10, if not more. This type of connection cannot be hidden or ambiguous. Father has essentially chosen a side, and it isn’t with those who still consider themselves loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“But he’s gone,” Harry said contemplatively.

“There are those who believe he will return, Harry,” Narcissa said. “For many, the war continues… without middle ground; their representative is either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.”

“The Dark Lord’s followers and sympathizers will view the Malfoys as traitors, Harry. Dumbledore’s…” Draco looked at his mother uncertainly.

“He’s gone,” Harry repeated mutedly. Narcissa was about to speak, but Draco shook his head. He had learned that it was best to let Harry think things through. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t come back. I mean, if we’re here and he’s not, surely we have the advantage.” Then, he reached for his tea as if the matter was sorted.

The conversation drifted to other topics after that, and Narcissa was grateful. She didn’t want to believe the Dark Lord could return, but there were moments when her husband’s tattoo seemed alive.

Later that night, Harry wrote to Madam Medallion. He sought advice, especially on how to proceed with the offer to remove Lord Malfoy’s D-mark. She told him to follow his instincts, with one caveat: a specialized goblin team would observe the removal and contain the remnants.

Following their conversation, Harry tested his ability to sink into the Malfoy Manor’s walls. There was an undercurrent of something very unpleasant, and despite his better judgment, he followed it for a while. The source appeared to be down a corridor Harry hadn’t seen during the day. So he resolved to explore it another time, preferably with backup. Snape sprang to mind.

Harry returned to his original goal and made his way to the portrait that had offended Draco. He walked up behind it and gently pulled the frame back.

“What is happening? Stop this at once!”

“Shh…” Harry hushed.

“Who’s there?”

“Someone who wants you to be kinder to those who live in the house. If I hear even a hint of an insult, I will make this permanent… or worse. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” the portrait gritted, and Harry pulled him a little further into the wall. “Yes! Please, stop!”

“You have yourself a deal.” Harry shoved the painting back into place, and the portrait jumped into another frame. The asshole desperately asked if anyone else had felt anything; Harry grinned.

———

“I’m telling you, Narcissa, I felt him leave the wards.”

“Lucius, calm yourself. I’m sure he’s fine. He wouldn’t leave.”

“I have to check on him. If something happens to him while he’s in our care…”

Harry didn’t know what to do. Somehow, wall-walking here was detectable. I didn’t know that was possible! Harry compromised and stepped out of the wall when the Malfoys' backs were to him.

Lucius stiffened, straightened, and slowly turned to face him. “Mr. Potter, I don’t understand what I just experienced.”

“Could you please call Professor Snape and wake Draco? I’ll go figure out what I can tell you and meet you in your family room as soon as I can.”

Narcissa looked concerned. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, Cissa, I am well. I just did something… I was supposed to keep it a secret, but I don’t think I can anymore… I’ll say what I can, but I have to check on something first. Please, I just need a few minutes.” Harry took a step before realizing the time. Madam Medallion expected him to have gone to sleep and probably wouldn’t see his message until morning. “Actually, I don’t think I can do what I planned. Any chance I can call my personal house elf?”

“As an ally of the House of Malfoy and a guest in our home, you may of course call your house elf,” Lord Malfoy said.

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That’s good. I just hope they aren't freaked out by the late hour. See you in a bit.” Harry rushed to his rooms, called for Argo, and offered them a sincere apology.

“I need to talk to Madam Medallion,” Harry said. “It’s important.”

Argo hummed. “Tell me about it first.”

Harry rapidly explained the situation. Argo already knew of his wall-walking; Harry couldn’t easily refrain from doing something he was so used to at Privet Dr., the very place he discovered the ability.

Argo concluded that something Harry did within the wall, or even the wall-walking itself, caused him to “disappear” from Lord Malfoy’s purview. Some ward-holders were very attuned to their home’s protective features; they could feel when someone was hurt or injured, for example. In this case, Argo was not surprised given the limited number of humans in the house and the age of the lord’s only son.

“Madam Medallion didn’t want me to tell anyone about this… What am I supposed to do?”

“Just like telling Professor Snape was protected, I believe it is safe to tell the Malfoys. They are now your allies. We could wake Madam Medallion, but I don’t think we have to.”

“Thanks, Argo… You’re probably right. How’ve you been, by the way? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Argo rolled their eyes. “I’ve been well. You could have called me as soon as you left Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t know… I missed you. How did you manage Howell and Midha’s nooks if you can’t get into Hogwarts?”

“Ah,” Argo smiled triumphantly. “There is an old school rule that allows house elves to help their charge get settled. They are permitted up to one day before they are barred entrance. I still had to walk in and walk out, like any other being who visits the castle; my abilities within were also limited.”

“Thank you for doing that,” Harry said. “I wanted to tell you before, but… Do you have any ideas on how we can keep in touch? Asking Madam Medallion about you is okay, but it’s not the same.”

“I’ll think about it,” Argo said, but Harry knew they were still stalling. They’d been thinking about it, after all. “Now, you best get to that meeting. I believe Professor Snape has arrived.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re good! I don’t know how you know that.” Harry headed for the door but paused to say, “Argo, please arrange a space for yourself in my room, like you did at the Dursleys.”

“If you insist,” Argo said, and Harry smiled.

———

“You can walk through walls!” Draco shouted.

“Yes?” Harry said. “I’ve only walked through some wall types. I still test it before doing it. You know, just in case.”

“It is rather unnerving to witness,” Snape said. Given their bond, Harry had to permit his professor to discuss the wall-walking with the Malfoys.

“I have to see. Please!” Draco looked around for a good spot. “Father, there! If you move that chair, Harry can dip in or whatever.” Harry obliged his friend’s curiosity and confirmed Lord Malfoy’s loss of awareness.

“It’s like you’re… just… gone. It’s very strange.”

“How is he here and not here at the same time, though?” Draco pondered; no one ventured an answer.

“Harry, why were you walking around?” Narcissa asked.

“Oh, uh… I was, uh” — Harry glanced at Draco — “punishing a portrait.”

Draco burst out laughing. “No! Thierry?”

Harry nodded. Then, Harry turned serious eyes on Lord Malfoy. “If you want to test what that feels like, I could pull him into the wall again. This time, since you know about it, I could hold him there for longer… or deeper!” Harry's eyes sparkled with possibility. “Just don’t tell him it’s me. Can portraits betray you?”

His retaliatory thoughts were gently redirected, as Lord Malfoy gave Harry a quick rundown of the loyalty of portraits. In short, he could rest easy knowing the Malfoy portraits wouldn’t tell tales. He wondered if the Hogwarts’ portraits were loyal to anyone. They certainly weren’t useful enough, in his opinion.

“Professor Snape, since they can know this, I think it’s time you show Lord Malfoy your arm,” Harry said. Without a word, Snape lifted the sleeve of his robe and revealed clear skin.

“It can’t be! Show me your other arm.” Snape complied, and Lord Malfoy moved closer. With permission, he grabbed Snape’s arms and studied them. “Is there a glamor?”

“No, Lucius. This is real.”

“Father, the mark is gone,” Draco said quietly.

“I don’t understand,” Lord Malfoy said. “No one has been able to remove it. ‘Too proprietary,’ they said…”

Snape grabbed his friend’s shoulder, guided him gently to a couch, and sat beside him. “The mark is a variation of a slave bond, Lucius. That’s why it was assessed as being ‘too proprietary,’ even if they could not understand why. It was easy to believe, I know, that the Dark Lord had some unfathomable power. It’s not in the quantity or quality, Lucius; it’s his skill.”

Narcissa, who had been sitting very still, gasped. “You’re a parselmouth. I didn’t even think… We’ve been so convinced that nothing could remove it… It never occurred to me…”

“To any of us, Narcissa… It’s not easily believed that a child can do the trick.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I suggest we revise our thinking habits. Our two biggest foes do see solutions in children.”

“The Dark Lord and Dumbledore,” Draco confirmed.

“So, you really don’t like Dumbledore?” Lord Malfoy looked puzzled.

“No.” Harry, bewildered, looked at Draco.

“I keep Mother updated.” Draco shrugged.

“It’s difficult to accept that a child, new to this world, and a student of Hogwarts no less, would not look up to the headmaster… Your feelings could’ve been temporary…”

“No, Lord Malfoy. My dislike for him is permanent. I hold him responsible for much of the wrong in my life.” Lord Malfoy’s eyes widened; Harry yawned. “Come on, Draco, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep and leave the adults to catch each other up. Professor Snape, so long as you keep to the spirit of our agreement, you may speak freely to the Malfoys.” A glow appeared and dimmed. Harry guided Draco out of the room, and the adults listened to them talking as they ascended the stairs.

“Why are we leaving, exactly?” Draco asked through a yawn.

“We’re tired, and they will put the pieces together faster without us present. Neither of us realized that your mother must have told your father and Snape about me being a parselmouth.” Harry yawned again before adding, “We’re kids, Draco. They’ll be too busy filtering themselves with us there.”

“I guess so…”

———

At breakfast the next day, Harry grinned when he spotted Professor Snape. “Oh, good, you’re still here! When will you have time to come again? I thought maybe if Lord Malfoy wanted his D-mark gone, we could set something up. The goblins will want to witness it this time too.” Harry sat across from Snape and cheerfully loaded his plate. “I think your schedule is the most limited, right? With you being in the castle with Dumbass and all.”

“Mr. Potter, please don’t start calling him that, or you may slip. Worse, you may cause me to slip.”

“What did I say?” Harry asked, genuinely confused.

“You said ‘dumbass’ instead of ‘Dumbledore,’” Snape said.

“Oh, sorry, I usually keep that inside my head. I guess I’m in ‘away from the castle’ mode.” Harry chuckled.

“It’s true, sir,” Draco added. “I’ve only heard him say it twice before, and fortunately, it was in the dorms.”

“Very well. In answer to your question, my schedule would normally be the most limited. However, the headmaster has asked me to visit with the Malfoys as often as I can to ascertain their ‘intentions’ for you.”

“How did you manage to get away last night?”

“I just left. The explanation will be needed upon my return. As it was late, yet early in your stay, I will say that Lucius received a threatening letter regarding the alliance. It’s the sort of thing Dumbledore expects.”

“How will you justify staying the night?”

“I’ll say the opportunity presented itself to follow his orders. Plus, Lucius has been known to need a lengthy chat when he’s concerned. It’s all very plausible, I assure you.”

“Well, this all works well for me. Even before the necessary wall-walking reveal, I wanted to get your help with something I felt in the walls.” Harry turned to Lord Malfoy. “Did you know there’s an unpleasant undercurrent in your walls?”

Lord Malfoy stiffened. “You felt it?”

“I don’t know what I was feeling, but I thought I’d need backup before following it all the way. There wasn’t a pull or anything, but it felt off. I think it’s down one of the corridors Draco didn’t show me, on this floor. I could show you.”

“I think I know what you are sensing. I’ll bring it out for you to confirm after breakfast.”

As soon as they finished eating, Lord Malfoy collected what he thought was the offending item. Harry took one look at the book and shook his head. “That’s not it, but I need you to show this to the goblins... It kind of feels like the D-mark.”

Lucius sighed. “That makes sense. The Dark Lord entrusted it to my father for safekeeping. Now that our family has allied with yours, it’s rather pointless to protect it.”

“Lucius,” Narcissa said, patting his arm, “it will all work out. I agree with what Harry said before: we’ll just have to make sure he never returns. Isn’t that right, Severus?” Snape nodded, but Harry replied.

“We’ll do our best to prevent his return, Lord Malfoy. If he does return, our influence will dominate the scene, and we’ll kill him as soon as he draws breath.”

“A little bloodthirsty, but I like it.” Draco nodded approvingly.

———

“Mr. Potter, I believe it is time for you to call me Lucius,” Lord Malfoy said.

“That’s great, and please, call me Harry, Lucius.” Harry looked down the corridor. “I’ll pop into the wall here. I’ll see if I can leave my arm out so that you’ll know where I am. My goal is usually to hide entirely.” Harry turned to Professor Snape. “Banging rules still apply.”

“Sure, Mr. Potter.” Snape rolled his eyes, and Narcissa chuckled. Harry looked at Draco, who just shrugged. He didn’t get it either.

In the end, they learned that the ugly undercurrent originated in the wardroom. Harry answered Lucius’ unasked question. “I don’t think it’s because of your D-mark, sir. I don’t get the impression it has anything to do with the Dark Lord.”

“What does it feel like, Harry?” Narcissa asked.

Harry furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “Suppressive. It feels like something was being suppressed, and the walls got sad.” Harry nodded to himself. “Yeah, that’s the best way to explain it.”

“What confuses me is that I cannot feel it. I hold the wards. I should feel the difference.”

“But would you feel it if it preceded your takeover?” Snape asked.

“I say you ask the goblins. They’re great.” Harry started to walk away. “I think this kind of wall-walking makes me hungry. Come on, Draco; show me the kitchens. Do you think the elves would be open to making us pasties?” Just like that, the boys walked away, chatting easily, leaving behind stunned adults.

“He speaks of all this as if it’s…” Lucius shook his head subtly.

“I believe the word you are searching for is ‘commonplace,’ dear,” Narcissa said.

“Contact the goblins. Mr. Potter is very fond of them, and he would not understand if you didn’t consult with them,” Snape said.

———

The goblins’ visit was arranged for the following day. Lucius and Narcissa offered to pay more for expediency and thoroughness, in the hopes of continuing their holiday with lighter burdens.

First, they tackled the Dark Mark and sent Harry to recover. Then, they discussed the Dark Lord’s book. The goblins agreed to take on the burden of both studying and disposing of it. They would not reveal the aims of their research, only saying that Harry and his guardian knew and approved. With the Dark Lord’s remains out of the house, the goblins were able to confirm, without a doubt, that he had nothing to do with the “undercurrent” Harry had identified.

After much assessment and consultation, the goblins discovered a toxicity caused by a Malfoy forebear. Something had been done to the wardstone, with the intent to increase the odds of male births; over time, it twisted into something grotesque. Bearers were likely to struggle to conceive, miscarry, or even die.

Purification rituals were conducted; the three Malfoys provided blood to reaffirm the importance of family. Throughout the entire process, the goblins were professional and even sympathetic. Lucius appreciated their support more than he ever would have expected, and silently, he vowed to see them with an openness more similar to Harry’s.

As the goblins prepared to depart, Snape carried Draco up to his room. His participation had been minimal, but as a child of the home, the changes could be exhausting. When Draco dozed, Snape returned to his room in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius and Narcissa needed time alone to grieve. Their journey towards parenthood had been so challenging that Narcissa was warned against future attempts. They nearly stopped trying before conceiving Draco. Knowing what they did now, it was a miracle Narcissa had not died.

Snape jotted down some thoughts, in consideration of a cleansing potion that could specifically target magical residue affecting fertility. Harry had been right: the contest and advanced study groups did promote innovation.

———

Everyone gathered again at dinner. Harry walked in with a wide grin on his face. “I checked a wall. It was practically singing.”

Narcissa stood up and rushed towards Harry, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you, Harry.” She placed a kiss on his unadorned head without letting go. Harry, shocked and confused, looked at Snape.

“What you felt, Mr. Potter, was essentially an ancestral curse that had devastating effects on the bearers of the Malfoy family.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he squeezed Narcissa back. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Cissa. I’m glad I could help.”

She kissed his head again and returned to her seat. Draco moved to sit beside her and hold her hand. Narcissa pulled her son’s hand to her lips, kissed it, and smiled with watery eyes.

Chapter Text

Argo quietly sipped tea while Harry paced around his room. They were appreciating the view of the grounds, patiently waiting for Harry to release some of his excess emotion. The boy had worked himself up into a panic about the lady’s gift. Argo had tried to soothe his doubts, but Harry’s mind had been too busy to allow for the balm of logic. Fortunately, the youngest Malfoy offered similar insight.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I am not sure the gift for your mother is appropriate. After what that” — Harry paused his movements, his face pinched — “undercurrent did to her, it would be like pouring salt on the wound!”

Draco sat on Harry’s bed and contemplated the matter. “It may be more emotionally received, but it’s still a good gift. It could even help.”

“How?” Harry asked dubiously.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“Young one,” Argo called, and Harry turned to look at them. “Being a ‘mama bear’ is more than carrying or birthing children. I think it will serve as a warm reminder of who she is at her center.” Argo went back to enjoying the pleasing view and delicious tea, a holiday gift from the young one.

“See, Argo gets it,” Draco said, and Harry smiled.

Draco struggled with Harry’s familiarity with house elves; this was doubly true with regard to Argo. The blond had not known what to make of Argo’s space in Harry’s room, but he’d handled it well. Apart from a stunned look and a handful of glances, he’d moved on to other topics. That suited Harry just fine. So long as Draco was accepting of Harry’s way and polite to Argo, he saw no need to elevate the matter. In time, perhaps, Draco would find Harry’s ethos more understandable.

“With that sorted, let’s get on with the day. Presents await!”

The Malfoys weren’t particular about which day to open their presents; they adapted to their social calendar. Their holiday celebrations seemed to be a blend of various customs, mostly Yule and Christmas. Over the generations, wixen families felt pressured to balance private family traditions with societal fluctuations. It was how they maintained their place in society and avoided marginalization. How the greater magical community perceived and related to you could mean the difference between food on the table and exile. Harry didn’t want to dig into all of that history; he wanted to enjoy being included.

This year, the Malfoys opened the bulk of their presents on the 28th of December. Before then, both Draco and Harry had opened small gifts; that was less about an incorporated custom than Draco’s impatience. The blond loved presents in a way Harry found bizarrely charming. As the only other child in the house, the Malfoys encouraged Harry to participate. It was nice not to be othered, but it was also disorienting.

The Malfoys wanted for nothing, yet the holiday did not center around presents. The Dursley household was another matter. At 4 Privet Dr., gift-giving went beyond celebration and spoilage: Vernon and Petunia “punished” Harry with their joy and withholding. When he wasn’t required to stay in his cupboard, Harry would be assigned a chore that kept “the fun” in his line of sight. The Dursley adults would throw Harry smug looks, and he would play his part — looking downtrodden.

Petunia and Vernon were too dense, or short-sighted, to realize that punishing Harry took something away from Dudley too. Earlier in his time on Privet Drive, Harry would find some of Dudley’s toys close to the cupboard door. His cousin seemed to be trying to share; for Harry, it was too much of a risk. As soon as he got the chance, Harry would shove the offering behind some living room furniture lest he be accused of theft. Then, if necessary, he’d return the unsafe item to Dudley’s room. Eventually, the attempts at sharing stopped.

Breakfast was a colorful affair. The Malfoy males loved sweets, and this time of year offered the perfect excuse to indulge, even during breakfast. The crêpe filling options leaned towards the sweet, and both had to be reminded to have something savory as well. Harry started with savory, but he was persuaded to “at least try” a crêpe with chocolate and banana.

“I promise you, Harry, this chocolate has minimal sugar,” Narcissa said.

He acquiesced; Draco was determined to find sweet treats Harry would love. “It’s good,” he said unconvincingly.

Snape snorted; Narcissa muffled her laughter with a cloth napkin. Lucius looked up, completely unaware. He’d been too focused on smearing a bright red jelly on a scone.

“Mr. Potter, do you like vinegar?” Snape asked.

“Like on chips?” Harry asked, and Snape nodded. “I only had it once, and I was really hungry that day. So I’m not sure.” Harry returned to his food, missing the silent exchange between his professor and Narcissa.

“Draco, since Mr. Potter isn’t opposed to vinegar, you may want to find foods that are sweetened without sugar,” Snape suggested, and Draco took inventory of the table’s spread. “You won’t find it now. Perhaps let Mr. Potter focus on his own choices today, hmm? You can consider it one of your gifts to him.”

“Oh, alright… Dobby?” An ecstatic house elf appeared. “Will you please bring Harry one of the treats I requested for him?” Dobby popped away, quickly reappearing with a very pretty pasty on a well-decorated plate.

Harry’s eyes danced. “A steak pasty?!”

“Yes,” Draco said mock-resignedly. “It’s of higher quality, though. The filling is more nutritious, and the surrounding decorations are a complementary sauce. I was concerned it may be too sweet, but it’s more like a gravy. So, it should be fine.” Draco watched as Harry picked up the pasty with great care and took a slow bite.

Harry moaned and closed his eyes as he finished chewing. “This is wonderful.” He rubbed the next bite against a colorful swirl. Draco awaited the verdict. “It’s better without the sauce.” Harry continued taking appreciative bites until it was gone. “Thank you, Draco. That was the best pasty I’ve ever eaten.”

“There are plenty more for you to enjoy throughout the holiday, and I’ve secured the recipe, just in case,” Draco said as if it was no big deal.

Harry beamed and reached for Draco’s arm. “You’re the best, Draco.”

The blond smiled shyly and called for Dobby to bring Harry another pasty. Snape thought he saw Harry’s eyes tear up a little as he looked down at the new pasty that had appeared.

———

“Thanks for taking a walk with me before we open presents,” Harry said.

“Draco will not appreciate the delay, but it’s a useful exercise in patience.” Snape’s eyes drifted to the nearby woods.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, sir. My gift to Serafina is more game; she’s out there hunting. Narcissa helped me set it up. I’d like to do the same for her at Hogwarts, but that could draw too much attention from Dumbledore.”

“I might be able to assist with that. If you can convince her to walk with me a few times while I’m harvesting potion ingredients, it will allow me to make the right comment to Hagrid. He’s invested in preserving the balance of the forest and has connections to the creatures who live there.”

“That sounds perfect, but I’ll have to check with Draco first. I think he worries about how much time she spends out in the forest. He still has moments of doubt about her willingness to stay with him. I tell him, though, that she’s loyal; it was obvious he was more of an indoorsy wizard when she chose him. I think Serafina’s behavior has a lot to do with protecting him. Hagrid says there’s something hunting unicorns out there.”

Snape tensed, already cursing the man in his head. “Hagrid told you this?”

“No, sir. I heard him saying it to Professor Sprout.”

“Where did you hear this, Mr. Potter?”

“By the greenhouses,” Harry said casually.

Snape hummed. He got the impression Harry was wall-walking there, and that raised a question Snape wasn’t ready to ask aloud: how thin of a wall can Mr. Potter traverse?

“So, you think Serfina is protecting Draco by monitoring the danger?”

”Something like that, yeah… Look! The peacocks are out. I’ll be right back.”

Snape watched as Harry squatted down to chat with and pet a peacock. The surreality of watching Harry act his age unsettled him. There was a pop, and Argo appeared to Snape’s left. They were eyeing the peacocks warily. Clever elf.

“The youngest Malfoy is beginning to pout. Would you please collect Harry and return to the family room?” Argo gave the peacocks one last suspicious look and popped away.

“Mr. Potter?” Harry looked up. “It’s time to go back inside.” Harry nodded and turned back to the peacock. Snape imagined he was offering the vicious thing explanations. When Harry was walking alongside him again, Snape asked. “Have you figured out if it’s the same peacock each time?”

Harry chuckled. “I think they’re testing me and changing it up. What they don’t know is that I’ve had experience with the Weasley twins. With enough time, I’ll get it. Can Lucius tell them apart?”

“I believe so, but he cheats. The peacocks are tied to the wards,” Snape said drily, and Harry laughed. Internally, Snape smiled.

———

“There you are, Harry! Come sit. I have all the presents organized. These are yours, and they are subdivided between…” Harry listened with half an ear and looked at the adults with an overwhelmed amused look.

Having any presents at all would have affected Harry. He knew that and had mentally prepared himself, but the amount of presents he had received began to distress him. Harry did his best to open a present, feel appreciative, and engage in related chitchat; it got to be too much. He felt out of place, like a stranger in his own body.

Narcissa noticed Harry’s overbright eyes and turned to Snape, who was already studying the boy’s tight smile. Lucius eventually sensed something was amiss, but he couldn’t figure out what. Finally, Draco caught on and stopped what he was doing.

“Harry?” Draco reached for Harry’s arm.

Harry jerked away before his hand made contact. “I apologize. I need some air. Please excuse me.” Then, he left the room as calmly as he could manage.

Draco stood up as if to follow, but Snape shook his head. Narcissa joined her son and pulled him close, speaking soothingly near his ear. Lucius looked questioningly at Severus.

“I don’t know. I cannot decide if it is better to give him time or follow. I think he felt even more alone in the world than I did growing up… It’s a wonder he’s as outgoing as he is,” Snape said.

Argo popped into the room with a book in their hands. “I will attend to the young one and let you know when it is safe to approach him. Do not worry.” Then, they were gone.

“That settles it then,” Narcissa said. “Draco darling, please arrange yours and Harry’s presents however you think best. I suggest you get some parchment and make notes of who sent what. That will help Harry with his ‘thank you’ letters.”

“I can do that!” Draco rushed out of the room, grateful for something to do.

———

While Harry wrote furiously in the journal he shared with Madam Medallion, Argo sat at the same table, quietly sipping an elderflower infusion.

H: I just stormed out of there. I don’t know what to do. Do you think I should leave? They’d have more fun without me. I don’t even know what I’m doing.

MM: Harry, breathe. I’m certain that no one wants you to leave, and I doubt they’ll ask for details. They know enough about you to fill in some of the missing pieces. The adults there are not ignorant of the world, Harry. I am confident that whatever you choose to say or not say will be accepted and respected.

H: It’s just so much, Madam Medallion. Before I stepped back into the magical world, my holidays were spent on the outside looking in… Now, I’m very inside and showered with gifts, small and big. General ones and thoughtful ones. It’s too much!

MM: It sounds to me like you are finally being seen, Harry. And for someone who spent so long hiding, it’s understandable to feel overwhelmed. Your feelings make sense. Do you remember how I didn’t push?

H: Yes.

MM: Have you ever filled in all the blanks for me?

H: No.

MM: Do you feel our connection is better or poorer for it?

H: No. — A soft smile appeared on Harry’s face. —

MM: We can see each other, Harry, without knowing all.

H: Thank you, Madam Medallion.

MM: You’re welcome, Harry.

H: Draco got me pasties.

MM: Then, I’m especially glad that is not what I got you.

H: I haven’t opened your gift yet.

MM: That explains why you aren’t happier. It will have you smiling all day.

H: You’re building it up. Aren’t you worried I’ll be disappointed?

MM: No. That is how amazing the gift is.

— Harry laughed. —

H: Okay. I believe you, and I look forward to it. I guess I better get back inside. Will I see you again this holiday?

MM: We haven’t had our tea. So, there’s a good chance we will see each other.

H: That’s great.

MM: Don’t rush inside, Harry. Take some time to just breathe. Have Argo share their elderflower infusion with you.

H: How did you know their drink?

MM: I know Argo. ;)

H: Okay, okay. :) Thanks again.

MM: You’re welcome. Remember to write to me later so that I know you’re doing better.

H: I will.

Harry took a deep breath and turned to Argo. “Any chance I could try some of your elderflower infusion?” Argo nodded and popped away. They returned with another cup, a fresh teapot, and biscuits of some kind.

“Try these: they are fruit and nut bars. Minimal sweetener was used. Eat one, at least. It will give you strength, and they complement the infusion.”

Since it mattered to Argo, Harry tried the bar. He chewed it slowly, taking small sips of the infusion as he ate.

“What did you think?”

Harry cleared his throat. “They’re okay... but too fruity.”

Argo huffed. “I will find a combination that works for you.”

“There’s no need.”

“Oh, no. This is a matter of my pride now.”

Harry laughed. “Okay… maybe try one without honey.”

“You tasted the honey? There’s very little honey, Harry!”

The boy smiled and shrugged apologetically.

———

Snape observed Harry as he walked towards his location. He was talking to Argo and looked much more relaxed; even his laughter had returned.

Snape understood how a close relationship could form between a human and a house elf. He was, after all, very attached to Mick. Nevertheless, it was odd to see a house elf who was willing to let a human feel equal to them.

Draco had shared the news of Argo’s personal space in Harry’s room. Harry asking Argo to do this was not as surprising as the elf agreeing. House elves usually insisted on having distinctions in “rank” preserved and eschewed anything they perceived as too informal. Draco, a boy who could not get the elves to play with him as a toddler, had been shocked: “They actually did it!”

As Snape drew closer, he cleared his throat. Harry visibly tensed and slowly turned around. Seeing Snape, he relaxed again.

“Hello, Professor Snape.”

Snape nodded in greeting. “May I join you both?”

Harry looked at Argo, who decided to leave them both to talk. However, they left the tea and biscuits; a moment later, a fresh cup appeared. “I guess Argo thought we should have a one-on-one. Would you like me to pour? It’s an elderflower infusion. It’s pretty good, but these are a bit too sweet for me.”

“What kind of biscuits are these?” Snape studied the plate Harry had gestured to.

“They are fruit and nut bars, Argo said.”

Snape hummed and selected one to try. “These are good.”

“They’re all yours. Argo will be pleased that you like them. I said they had too much honey.”

Snape chuckled. They sat in companionable silence for a while, and the professor finished the bars. In time, Snape broached the necessary question carefully. “Are you ready to go back in?”

“I don’t want to say much.”

“If you say anything at all, we’d be appreciative. That said, everyone will understand if you do not.”

“Even Draco?”

“With Draco, it’s different: he will accept, but he won’t understand. He's less aware of how cruel the world can be to children. Of course, you already knew that.”

“I’m glad.”

“I know, Mr. Potter. I’ve seen you with the others. You have an impressive capacity to be happy for those who were spared what you endured. I leaned towards resentment.”

“I know resentment too. I’m no angel.”

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said gravely, “if you were an angel, I think I’d hate you.”

Harry laughed; he laughed hard. Tears began to fall from his eyes. Then, to his horror, he began to sob.

Snape knelt beside Harry. “May I hold you?” The boy looked confused as if he couldn’t imagine what that might mean. He just stared; Snape moved slowly closer until Harry was enclosed in his arms. The boy resumed crying, and Snape held him tighter. After several minutes, Harry hugged Snape back.

The crying lessened, and Harry’s breathing eased. He didn’t let go when he said, “I haven’t cried like that in a long time, and I don’t think it was that much before. It’s weird… I think I feel better, somehow.”

“There’s no need to analyze your reaction, Mr. Potter. With time, it’ll likely make more sense. I suggest that you just accept it for what it is.”

“A release?” Harry ventured. Snape hummed. “Fuck. How am I going to tell Draco? I don’t think I could take it if I had to comfort him for what happened to me.”

“I’m truly concerned with how comfortably you use such language in front of me.”

Harry chuckled and removed himself from Snape’s hold. “How are you so funny?”

“I assure you that very few people find me funny.”

“Well, people are often stupid.”

Snape hummed and nodded. “Regarding Draco, tell him the truth of your feelings. If you don’t want to talk about it, say, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ If he pushes, know that it is his issue, not yours.”

“Madam Medallion once told me that I should never try to appease anyone.”

“Wise woman.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled fondly.

———

When they returned inside, Narcissa was chatting with Lucius about their New Year’s plans. Draco was leaning against her as he stared into the fire. The blond boy seemed to sense their approach and looked up expectantly.

“Harry! Are you feeling better?”

“I am, thanks. I’m sorry for requiring so much time to myself. I didn’t mean to disrupt the day.”

“It’s nothing, Harry. We are adaptable,” Lucius said.

“How would you like to proceed?” Narcissa asked kindly.

“I’d like to try opening more presents,” Harry said.

“Yes!” Draco shouted. “I’ve reorganized the unopened ones, and I’ve also arranged the ones you’ve opened. Look, I even made notes on who sent what; that way, it’s easier for us to write ‘thank you’ notes.”

“Sounds great, Draco. Thank you,” Harry said, and Draco smiled warmly.

The opening of presents resumed, and Harry navigated his swirl of feelings more compassionately. He was extremely grateful that no one pressed him for details, but he had a feeling it might help to offer some explanation. He didn’t want them tiptoeing around him; Harry thought an explanation might prevent them from expecting random emotional moments in the future. Yes, as sensible as this sounded, Harry could not bring himself to do it. Maybe another time…

Harry saved Madam Medallion’s present for last. Once he removed the wrapping, he was met with an ornately carved box that glowed when he touched the lock. There was a note inside:

Dear Harry,

Now that the box has detected your magic, you will be the only one who can open it. If called upon to do so, it will behave like the trunk that collected your things from Hogwarts. Within, you will find three items that I know will please you greatly.

The first is a leather pouch that will send whatever you put in it to Gringotts. It’s simple and worn by design; you’ll find that others will easily disregard it.

With a thought, the contents will stay put; it can accommodate more than its size suggests. If the pouch falls into someone else’s hands, the pouch will return to your pocket when it is safe to do so. If it is removed from you in quick succession, the pouch will find its way to Gringotts. Let others believe you found the pouch in your vault.

The second is what you desired. Jerome persuaded the owner of Beautiful Things to allow your investment. You now hold a 5% interest in the business. You were also granted royalty rights on ideas you contributed to; since you have already proven your capabilities, Gringotts made certain the offer was commensurate. Within, you will find a summary copy of the agreement and a letter from Jerome.

As part of the negotiations, I requested to be put in touch with the maker of the statues you so admire. Through our correspondence, I persuaded him to meet with me in person. Unfortunately, he did not agree to meet with you, but he does not rule it out completely for the future.

You’d like him, Harry. He was pleased to hear his goblin statue chose you. I convinced him to make you a complementary piece, which brings me to the third item. The cuff is deceptively simple in design, but it will reveal more in time. For now, enjoy its beauty, and know that one day, its magic will call upon you to interact with it more.

Have fun, and let me know when you’d like for us to meet for tea.

Your friend,
Medallion

P.S. Yes, you may test the pouch. Place your “thank you” note in here after you’ve written it.

P.P.S. I know you’re curious about Mr. Bott, but there isn’t much to say. Research into the investment options has unusually stalled. I am now more interested in the options.

———

Harry laughed and then proceeded to review the contents of the box. The leather pouch was indeed simple-looking, but it felt amazing in his hands. The contract summary deepened his joy. He felt honored to be part of Beautiful Things, and he hoped Jerome would be the owner one day.

The cuff took his breath away. The metal was wondrously etched; when he put it on, it closed itself. Harry loved it. It was almost like it had always belonged to him. And though he could not visibly see the connection to his goblin statue, it felt like a match.

“That’s a happy face,” Narcissa said fondly. “May I know what pleases you?”

“Two things, really, and they’re kind of connected. I now have a 5% interest in Jerome’s shop, and one of the artists that sells there made this for me.” Harry proudly held up his wrist. “Madam Medallion met with the artist, and he made this cuff to complement a statue I bought there.”

Draco instantly sat up straight. “The goblin?” Harry nodded, grinning widely, and Draco shuddered. That little statue has a big personality… The blond approached Harry to get a closer look at his bracelet. ”Wow, that’s beautiful. You have to show Mother.”

“Harry,” Narcissa gushed, “it’s incredible.” She met his eyes and smilingly added, “It suits you.” Harry beamed.

“May I see it, Mr. Potter?”

“Of course!” Harry walked over to Snape.

“Can we please go back a step?” Lucius said. “Who’s Jerome?”

“Darling, Jerome is the manager of Beautiful Things.”

Harry didn’t understand why Narcissa emphasized Jerome’s and the shop’s names. He guessed it was her way of jogging her husband’s memory and missed the look of surprise on Lucius’ face.

Lucius composed himself before asking, “You are the investor, Harry? Not your guardian?”

“It’s me. My guardian is very supportive of my investment interests.” Harry realized he was still holding his arm out in front of Snape. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you were done looking at my bracelet.”

“It’s very nice, Mr. Potter. However, I suggest you come up with an explanation you’re willing to have repeated to the headmaster. I can’t imagine he’ll take kindly to anyone giving you such a gift, but it’s probably better to say it came from your guardian.”

“That might be worse, I think,” Harry said. “He might assume the goblins were trying to please me with gifts to impress my mysterious guardian. But if I say it’s from my guardian, he’d likely think ‘manacle’ instead of ‘bracelet.’”

“Tell him it’s none of his business,” Draco said.

“Not in those words, but I agree with my son,” Lucius said. “Tell him it’s from a friend. That’s true enough, and he’s not entitled to know more.”

“He’ll think someone is courting you, but sending him down that line of enquiry might prove fruitful.” Narcissa smirked deviously.

Harry loved it and turned to Snape. “I have to go with the Malfoys on this one, sir. Better luck to us next time.” Snape tipped his invisible hat in defeat, and Harry laughed.

“Back to the investment,” Lucius said.

“Ugh, father, please,” Draco said. “If you get him going, he won’t stop. Do you know how often I’ve had to listen to him talk about the ‘untapped potential’ of Knockturn Alley?” Lucius’ eyes lit up, and Draco’s eyes widened in horror.

Narcissa laughed brightly, and Snape chuckled. “You fool boy. You’ve just done it yourself.”

Harry’s head snapped to Lucius. “You think Knockturn Alley is worth investing in?”

“Yes! I even made enquiries, but the Ministry of Magic was afraid to see Malfoy money injected into a ‘disreputable, business district.’”

“That’s bollocks! Do you think someone is specifically blocking you? Or are all investments being blocked?”

“I don’t know for sure. I was always wary of seeming too eager. But when it comes to Knockturn Alley, many of the businesses will not accept money from certain families. They’d sooner close their shops than become something they never wished to be.”

“Do you mean families who wish to sanitize everything, so to speak?” Harry asked, trying to understand.

“That’s a good way of putting it.” Lucius nodded. “As you saw when you acquired your wand, certain shops are not welcome on Diagon Alley. And there are those who would rather operate obscurely on Knockturn Alley than raise the issues publicly. They won’t risk criminalization of what is currently relegated to the shadows.”

“What if we team up?” Harry asked. “I’m just thinking aloud. Bear with me. The goblins could be the face… to mask our identities. Maybe shop owners could enter into a secrecy vow of sorts… We could entice them with different levels of investment, including helping them secure a loan from Gringotts. I’m positive Gringotts could find a way to justify their seemingly sudden, to the Ministry at least, willingness to work with Knockturn Alley businesses.

“Oh! We should start liaising with Cottonwood Lane early, to see how they’d like to factor into things. I’m 11 and new to the magical world… You know the Alley better, and I’m in school… So you could get all this started. The goblins represent my interest and can liaise with me easily. Lucius, if we play this right, we could start attracting large crowds by the start of next year’s fall term! Does any of this sound workable to you?!”

“Yes! Let’s go to my office. I want to get some of this written down!” Harry eagerly accompanied Lucius out of the room.

“I don’t even think they realized we were still here,” Draco said.

“Mr. Potter would’ve tripped on my foot if I’d not moved it out of his way,” Snape confirmed.

“They’re bonding. It’s adorable. Your father has wanted to effect change on Knockturn for a long time. Shop owners like Kylene could benefit from this. I think those two working together could make a big difference. And Draco, darling” — Narcissa waited until she had her son’s full attention — “isn’t it lovely to see Harry so happy?”

Draco nodded, remembering just how rattled Harry looked earlier in the day. “It is, mother. You’re right.”

“Yes, she is,” Snape said. “Now, Draco, please work with Dobby to take yours and Harry’s presents to your rooms.”

Draco looked at Snape suspiciously. “You just want to talk to Mother alone.”

“Of course, but isn’t giving you a task kinder than demanding you leave?” Draco just smiled and left the room. When he was gone, Snape threw up a muffling charm and turned to face Narcissa. “How did Mr. Potter manage to convince the Corbett family to let him invest in their business?” Narcissa speechlessly shook her head. “He’s friendly with Jerome?”

“Oh, yes. Jerome was most surprised when he learned the boy calling himself ‘Hank’ was Harry Potter. I helped ease Jerome’s nerves on the matter. They maintain a correspondence, and Harry has even offered suggestions for products.”

“Do you think Mr. Potter knows that Jerome is in line to become owner?”

“No, but he does refer to it as ‘Jerome’s shop.’ At the very least, I think he feels the shop should be Jerome’s.”

“Then I do not doubt that Mr. Potter and Lucius will revitalize Knockturn Alley.”

“You could invest too, Severus. It sounds to me like they are going to take many steps to conceal their identities.”

Snape hummed. “I’ll think about it. I could always tell the headmaster that Lucius insisted, and I thought saying ‘no’ would get me disinvited from the Manor.”

“That’s one of the things I like best about you, Severus. You have a way of telling someone to ‘go fuck themselves’ without resorting to vulgarity.” Snape snorted. “Now, the cuff.” Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” Snape drawled.

“We’ve not seen the complementary statue. Draco said it was a goblin.”

Snape hummed. “And shuddered. I want to know what the statue does that makes Draco, a boy used to uniquely magical items, shudder.”

“To be favored by the goblins…” Narcissa said awingly.

“Dumbledore cannot even begin to fathom what he is up against.”

“He positioned himself in opposition. The headmaster has no one to blame but himself.”

Chapter Text

New Year’s Eve would be spent at the Parkinsons’. At Argo’s suggestion, Harry had decided not to wear a headscarf: “You don’t want this group to think you are hiding your scar, young one. Show them that you are unafraid of your reputation and will stand beside your companions proudly.”

———

“Are you opposed to hair jewelry?”

“I have no idea what hair jewelry is, Draco.” Harry wondered if it had been a mistake to ask for help with his hair; then he dismissed the thought entirely. “So long as I still look like me, have at it. Please, just help me.”

Draco nodded and ran his hands through Harry’s hair. He hummed thoughtfully as he rubbed different amounts of hair between his fingertips. “I think Mother has hair cuffs that will suit you. I’ll be right back.”

Harry turned to look at Argo. “Hair cuffs?”

“You’ll like them, I think, if he keeps them simple.”

“With Draco, simple is not at all guaranteed.”

“Consider this a learning experience. If you like the idea, we’ll acquire pieces that are more to your taste.”

“Thanks, Argo. What will you be up to tonight? Do house elves celebrate the same New Year?”

“We do not. Our New Year coincides with the arrival of spring. Some elves will seek or make their own fun tonight. As with any large group of beings, some will always find an excuse to celebrate.”

“In case you are secretly or occasionally part of that group, ‘Happy New Year.’ In advance, of course.”

“And to you, young one.”

Draco ran back into the room with an ornate box. “I think I figured out what I’m going to do!” As he got to work, Harry closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Tonight would present him with new faces and challenges, and he wanted to face them with aplomb.

When they finally arrived at the Parkinsons’ Manor, Harry was relieved. Preparation for such events took a long time! Harry had no idea. No wonder the Malfoys were adaptable: one event could take over a whole day!

Harry and Draco, fortunately, were encouraged to bring their familiars. Additionally, the boys could stay with the other children for the duration of the party. There would be no need to “mingle with the adults.” This was all particularly relieving to Harry. Breathing exercises or not, there was only so much he could take. Harry wished Snape had been able to attend. The professor, on the other hand, had not seemed to mind. Even without a domineering headmaster, grand events did not hold much appeal for Snape.

Alongside Lucius and Narcissa, the boys politely greeted the hosts. Then, as soon as they could, they separated from Draco’s parents to join the other children. They were in a side room of the ballroom. The connecting doors would stay open until everyone arrived. Then, according to Draco, the doors would close to allow both groups more freedom to enjoy themselves.

The room was filled with familiar faces, but Harry zeroed in on the entirely unexpected redheads. With a bright face, Harry cheerfully greeted, “Forge! How are you here?”

“Hello to you too, Potter,” Blaise said from beside the twins.

“Hi, Blaise.” Harry then turned to the room and shouted, “Hello, all!” He received snickers and salutations before impatiently refocusing on the Weasley twins.

“Pansy invited us,” the twins said together.

“Okay, but how did you persuade your parents?”

“Oh, that,” Fred said.

“Well,” George said, “with Bill working at Gringotts, he convinced them that turning down an invitation from one of their prominent clients would seem offensive.”

“So Bill’s here too?” Harry guessed.

Fred laughed. “You are correct.”

“Charlie’s here as well,” George said.

“I’d like to meet them,” Harry said.

“It might mean going out there, though,” Blaise said. “It may not be worth it, green eyes.” Harry looked at Blaise with a raised eyebrow.

“What I think he means,” Daphne said, as she approached, “is that you look stunning, Harry. Your eyes are practically glowing. That robe is a great color on you. I like the hair jewelry too.”

“Oh, uh.” Harry touched his hair and looked down at his robes. “It’s all the Malfoys’ doing.”

“Merlin, Harry! The jewelry on your wrist is an even bigger standout,” Blaise said. “Could I see it more closely?” Harry moved closer to Blaise and held out his wrist.

Pansy whistled. “Damn, Harry, that’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Harry said shyly.

“A courting gift?” Theo piped up.

Harry blushed as he shook his head. “A friend.”

“Oooo… ‘A friend’?” The twins hummed playfully, and the group laughed.

“Harry, where’s your boy?” Marcus asked.

Harry looked around. Where had Draco gone? “I don’t know. We came in together…” Draco wasn’t in the room, and Harry’s heartbeat quickened. Calm down. “Theo, please go find the Malfoys. I’m going to look for Draco.”

“We’re coming too.” Harry heard multiple voices; he didn’t concentrate on who they were. Howell was on alert, but Harry didn’t dare talk to him.

“I don’t see Serafina,” someone said, and Harry’s wand sprung to his hand.

Howell was already slithering along the floor, searching for scents of either Serafina or Draco. ~“I don’t smell them… but this way” — he gestured to a side corridor — “smells of nothing. That’s suspicious.”~

“What’s down this way?” Harry asked.

“Not much, just a couple of guest quarters,” Pansy answered.

“Where the fuck are the Malfoys?” Harry muttered.

“Harry, this party is supposed to be safe, I…” Pansy looked uncertain. “I don’t think my father meant anyone harm. If someone has Draco, they’re acting on their own. I’m mostly sure about that...”

Harry tapped his thigh with his free hand. He turned to look at the group that had followed. If the Weasleys had not joined, he could be more clear; the restriction frustrated him. “Twins, please get your brothers, and keep an eye out for Theo or the Malfoys.” Harry’s eyes hardened. “If anyone tries to stop you, do whatever it takes. Fuck the party.” They nodded and took off. “Howell thinks this way smells of nothing. That’s odd, as far as he’s concerned, and I agree.”

“Harry...” Blaise hesitated. “I don’t think we can do much. Are you sure about this?”

“If we need help, I’ll call for my elf. Speaking of,” — Harry turned to Pansy — “can your elf help?”

“They’ve all been ordered to manage the party. I don’t know if they’ll answer me,” Pansy said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Please, try,” Harry said.

“Sugar?” Pansy called.

After a few moments, an elf appeared. “Ms. Pansy, you’re not to leave the children’s party.” Sugar looked around nervously. “Are you alright?”

Pansy tried not to sound alarmed. “Do you know where Draco is?”

Sugar looked thoughtful. “He’s here, but it’s unclear… It’s like he’s…” She shook her head. “I think he’s hurt. I can’t… Something is blocking me, I think.”

“Is he close?” Harry asked. Sugar looked doubtful. “It’s okay. I have an idea.”

“What about the other Malfoys, Sugar?” Pansy asked.

Sugar looked confused. “They’re in the ballroom, Ms. Pansy.”

Blaise turned to Harry, positing, “Notice me not?”

“Maybe that’s why Theo isn’t back,” Harry speculated.

“Or the Weasleys,” Daphne said.

“Sugar, get the Malfoys. Please bring them here as soon as possible without causing alarm,” Pansy said.

Sugar nodded, but before leaving, she asked, “What about your parents?”

Pansy shook her head sadly. “No. Thank you, Sugar.”

During the conversation, Howell had slithered up and down the corridor; he agitatedly moved around the corridor’s entrance as he waited for the next step.

Harry asked, ~“Anything new?”~

~“More nothing. It’s too much. It’s very wrong.”~

Harry ran his hand along the walls and ignored the curious stares. The twins returned without their brothers. They couldn’t find them. Of course… “Got anything to blow up a door? And something to hide us?” The twins nodded. “Good, everyone, stand to the sides of that door.” Harry pointed out the one he suspected and lowered his voice further. He stayed near the wall, keeping a hand on it; he dipped a finger when no one was looking. For the most part, Harry was sure he could get through. “First, obscure. Then, blow.”

“And then?” Pansy nervously whispered.

“Do what you think is best. Just don’t get hurt.” Harry directed his attention to entering the room his way.

“Excellent advice,” Theo said sarcastically.

When had he returned?

When the twins obscured the view, Harry sank into the wall and saw Draco standing in front of Serafina. She was glaring at a tall, broad man with black hair; Harry could empathize. He pulled out a muggle hunting knife from his robes. When he was younger, a shopkeeper pegged him as a homeless kid and helped him acquire the tool. The man helpfully left the knife on top of a book about living off the land while he went “to check on the security tapes.” Harry never returned to the store; he was too terrified it was a trick or some form of manipulation. Nonetheless, the knife had served him well on more than one occasion.

Harry had his wand on him, but right now, he needed a more familiar weapon. Breathe, Harry. He loosened his grip on the knife. Aim for sure, not tight. Breathe… Harry quickly made his way around the room to stand parallelly between Draco and his captor. The wall was a great cover. He just needed the distraction. As Harry waited for the doors to explode, his rage increased. Breathe, Harry. The asshole hit Draco with a spell that looked like it hurt; Draco did not make a sound, but Serafina snarled. Almost, Wild Girl.

Finally, the doors exploded. The man whirled around; Harry leapt from the wall and jumped on the man’s back. Without another thought, Harry stabbed the abductor’s neck. The man didn’t scream, but Harry was satisfied when the man collapsed beneath him.

Harry felt unfocused and worried he’d pass out. Just in case, he forced himself to shout one thing: “Get his wand!”

“Harry!” Draco rushed to Harry’s side.

———

A calm voice reached Harry’s ears. “Harry?” It was Narcissa. She rested a hand on one of Harry’s, the hand holding the knife. Harry stared at their joined hands; the spot was warm.

“Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re here now.”

Harry’s eyes drifted to the bracelet on her wrist. It was his Yule gift to her — a delicate chain finished with a beautifully detailed bear clasp. Mama bear. Harry looked up to meet her eyes. Lucius, who was beside her, nodded. Harry released his hold and sagged in relief. Draco wrapped his arms around him and gently guided him away from the fallen foe.

After that, it was a blur of activity. Argo appeared and handed Harry a potion that seemed to steady him. Howell was back around his shoulders, and Draco was holding his hand.

“We’ll have to return to the party, I’m afraid.” Lucius’ voice cut through the haze.

“But Mr. Potter—”

That’s Snape! Harry sought and found the source of the voice. “Sir, when did you get here?”

“Mr. Potter” — Snape knelt to face Harry — “you are in shock. I can give you a potion to stimulate you, but do you think you can face the party for a couple of hours?”

“The man…” Harry said. “He hurt Draco.”

“Yes, but Draco is here now. You saved him, Harry.”

“He hurt Draco.”

“Yes,” Snape confirmed.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

Harry nodded. “Thought so. What do I do now?”

“You put yourself back together as best you can, face the party for two hours, and then you will return to the Manor for the next set of instructions. The adults will take it from here,” Snape said clearly.

“I can do that,” Harry said. “What about Draco?”

“I can do it too, Harry, but I’ll need your help. Is that okay?” Draco said carefully, quietly assessing Harry as he came to a decision.

Harry straightened his back and nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Draco stood up and offered Harry a hand in getting up. Harry accepted, and Draco pulled; together, they walked towards their friends. “Do we have this?” Draco asked assertively.

The group nodded resolutely.

———

“Let’s go outside for a while,” Pansy said.

“It might even be best if someone comes looking for us,” Blaise said.

Pansy led them to a nice sitting area, and the group made themselves as comfortable as they could. “Cast some privacy spells, darlings,” Pansy said.

“I learned the anti-animagus ward!” Daphne said and started waving her wand. “Mother recently learned that nightmare, Rita Skeeter, is an unregistered animagus. A beetle!”

The twins stared at Harry in concern. “Uh, Harry?” Fred said, and Harry looked up.

“That was a big knife,” George said. Harry nodded.

“Why did you have the knife, Harry?” Theo asked.

Harry shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

“Well, we’ll get you a new one,” Draco said. “Even if the adults can salvage it, I’d rather not face a reminder of Andrey Dolohov.”

“That was his name?” Draco nodded. “Andrey Dolohov,” Harry repeated, getting a sense of the name. Someone cleared their throat, and Harry looked around the group. “What happens now?”

“We’re pulling ourselves together,” Pansy said.

“Then, we rejoin the party,” Daphne added.

“And await further instruction,” Blaise finished.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” Harry said quietly to Draco.

“It’s probably the potions. You were given a calming draught and then a stimulant. Your body was up and down; then it was up again. The next down will be tough, but by then, we’ll be at the manor,” Draco said.

“Harry, I want you to know…” Fred started.

“We won’t tell anyone,” the twins said in unison.

“None of us will,” Theo said. He then put a hand on the table in front of Harry. Blaise put his hand on Theo’s, and Draco followed. The girls went next, and finally, the Weasley twins added their hands to the stack. Harry tilted his head in enquiry. “Now, you put your hand on ours, and say, ‘Thank you for your silence.’”

Harry looked at Draco; the blond nodded. Harry reverently placed his hand on top of the pile. “Thank you.” Harry met each of their eyes. “Thank you for your silence.”

“We willingly offer it,” the group chorused. A glow emanated from their connected hands. When it faded. Serafina walked around the group, rubbing against each one as she passed.

“Tonight has been a lot,” Harry said, once they were all seated again.

“Look what we’ve come up with, boss,” George said. He pulled out what looked like a piece of caramel candy and handed it to Fred. Fred immediately popped it in his mouth and got a dopey look on his face. “We call them cara-melos. Hey, twin brother?” Fred lazily looked at George, tipping his head back. “How are you feeling?”

“Aaa-maaazz-iingg,” Fred said dreamily.

“No! You’re faking. Let me try one.” Daphne reached out a hand.

“Me too,” Blaise said.

Once Blaise and Daphne confirmed that the twins were definitely not pretending, Pansy and Draco joined in. Theo remained cautious, and Harry didn’t want to eat anything sweet. Plus, his body had ridden enough peaks and valleys for one day. He did, however, happily observe their slowed-down speech.

“Haarryy,” Draco sang. “I like these cuffs in your hair.” Then he ran his hands through Harry’s hair.

Their protections abruptly came down; a tall redhead studied the group suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Bill!” The twins said together. “We were looking for you!” Bill rolled his eyes and moved closer.

Another redhead followed close behind. “I was worried about that. Bill and I were pulled into a long discussion about the merits of courtship.”

“That must have been Olivia Conner-Betts,” Pansy said, knowingly.

“Yes! She’s very well versed in the subject,” the shorter redhead said.

“She is, yes.” Pansy giggled. “It’s interesting for about 20 minutes. Then it’s like she is talking at you, and you can’t find a way to leave the conversation.”

“To be fair, her words did have an impact on me. I think I’ll consider a proper courtship when I’m ready,” Bill said pensively.

“Just don’t do it anytime soon, yeah, or Mum will expect the same of me soon after you’re engaged.”

“So, what were you doing? I see everyone looks back to normal.” Bill looked around the group, and Harry tensed.

“Cara-melos!” The twins shouted and handed out some more candies.

“Let me guess, inspired by Ron?” Not-Bill asked as he popped a cara-melo into his mouth. The twins grinned wickedly, and Harry laughed.

“Oh, sorry for not introducing ourselves properly,” Bill said. “We’re the twins’ eldest brothers. I’m Bill, and this is Charlie.” Charlie waved lackadaisically. Then the others introduced themselves too. “Why did you bring these to this party, Forge?”

“Icebreakers!” the twins said.

Charlie stood up unsteadily. “Let’s go break some ice!” Everyone stood and followed Charlie inside.

Bill whispered, “He’s such a lightweight.” Harry snorted.

For the rest of their time at the party, the eldest Weasleys stayed in the “children’s room,” with an easy justification: “We’re closer in age to the oldest ones in here than the youngest ones out there.”

Harry wasn’t sure that was true, but he didn’t care. They were good company. How could Ron be from the same family?

———

When they returned to the Manor, Harry’s and Draco’s feet were nearly dragging. Narcissa walked elegantly beside Serafina while Howell draped across her shoulders. The snake was still complaining about Harry’s wavering movement; Harry stuck out his tongue. He’d arranged for Howell’s upgrade to a prettier companion. So Harry considered his part done.

Argo soon appeared; without much of a greeting, they popped Harry to his bedroom and put him to bed. Harry was vaguely aware of magic washing over him as he fell asleep.

———

Harry awoke with a start, and Argo rushed to his side. “You’re okay. You’re in your room at Malfoy Manor. It’s New Year’s Day.”

Harry’s heart calmed. “Draco?”

“He’s at breakfast with his parents. He is well.”

Harry nodded and lay back down. “Do you think maybe I could sleep some more? I’m still so tired.”

“Rest, young one. All is well.”

Harry blearily looked at Argo. “You’re sure?”

“I am,” Argo said earnestly.

“K.” Harry drifted back to sleep.

———

Harry awakened to the sound of quiet voices; he turned towards them and smiled. Madam Medallion and Argo were sitting around a table he did not recognize. Harry could not make out the words of their conversation; he realized they had taken precautions to allow him a more restful sleep. The kind company pleased him, especially after such a stressful night. Harry carefully sat up; as he did, he drew their attention.

Both approached his bed, but Medallion spoke first. “How are you, Harry?”

“I feel strange, like I’ve slept a whole day. What time is it?”

“It’s the 2nd of January, 4 in the morning,” Argo said.

“Oh,” Harry said awkwardly. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“There’s nothing to say, Harry. It simply is.” Medallion sat down on his bed and cupped his chin. “You seem rested. The healer said you were well, but I’m glad to see it for myself.”

“You expended a lot of energy and taxed your magical core,” Argo said. “The wards Draco’s captor used were powerful. To step through them took a lot out of you.”

“I thought the walls felt thicker” — Harry looked pensive — “but I didn’t have time to notice.”

Medallion patted his leg. “You were focused on your goal. It’s understandable.”

“Draco,” Harry said. “He hurt Draco.”

“Yes,” Medallion said. “He would have killed him, Harry. Of that, we are now certain.”

“But he’s gone?” Harry searched Medallion’s eyes.

She nodded. “He is, and luckily, he was acting alone. So, the consequences of his actions are easier to manage.”

“I killed him.”

“No,” Argo said firmly. “His death was more of a group decision.” They turned to Medallion, who nodded in agreement.

“That is correct. You struck a lethal blow, but he was saveable. However, a thorough assessment determined that the benefits of allowing him to die were greater.”

“He meant to kill Draco…” Harry’s brow furrowed, and Medallion gave him time to organize his thoughts. “I cannot find a single shred of concern for his death; he hurt Draco. What will the consequences be?”

“They have been minimized substantially. It will not look like he died on the night he was stabbed.” Medallion and Argo carefully studied Harry’s reaction. He flinched at the word “stabbed” and looked at his hand. “It will look as if he died today and from a magical wound.”

Harry nodded once. “My knife?”

“Your knife is safe in your vault should you wish to look at it again. Your friend, Draco, did not want it in the house, and I” — Medallion’s voice grew firm, and Harry looked down. She cradled his chin, guiding him to face her. — “want you to have a better knife.” Harry smiled. “We are fighters, Harry. We must embrace who we are without shame. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Madam Medallion.” Harry’s voice wobbled, his body began to shake, and tears fell from his eyes. “Draco was hurt. I…”

Medallion shifted closer and placed her hands on his shoulders. “You did what you could. Your instincts were sound, Harry. I know you had people trying to find the Malfoys, even the Weasleys. You didn’t want to call Argo until you were certain. That was wise. Having an unauthorized house elf enter a lord’s manor can have severe consequences. When you undeniably needed them, Argo was able to reach you without consequence. You did well, Harry.” Medallion’s voice was so certain. Harry wanted to believe her.

“Young one,” Argo said calmly, “everyone you value is well. Neither the Malfoys nor Professor Snape will suffer for your actions. You are safe. We are all safe.”

Harry reached for Argo’s hand, and they took it. Harry squeezed their hand and tipped his head into Medallion’s space as her hands continued to rest on his shoulders.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Harry said softly. “Thank you.”

“You have more than us, young one,” Argo said. “When you are ready, your humans are waiting for you.”

Harry chuckled. “My humans,” Harry repeated whisperingly, and his chuckle became a laugh.

———

Harry arrived at breakfast earlier than everyone except Professor Snape. “Good morning, Professor.”

Snape nodded. “How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?” Harry looked at him guardedly. “Your physical state will do, Mr. Potter. There’s no need to regard me as if I’ve asked you to reveal your trade secrets.”

Harry snorted. “I’m feeling like I need to take it slow, but otherwise, I feel well. How are you, sir? Is the headmaster causing you problems for being at the party?”

“I am well. The headmaster was told that Lucius received a less ambiguous threat and sought my immediate assistance. It’s true enough, of course, but he has no idea of what actually occurred. It is best that he not know Draco was at the center, and the headmaster expects Lucius to be targeted. There is, however, one wrinkle.” Snape looked at Harry consideringly. “He’d like to see you spend time with other families, and I’m sure you can guess which one tops the list.”

“The Weasleys,” Harry said resignedly. Snape nodded. “And since four of them were at the party, it’s easy for him to pretend that there’s no problem.”

“Indeed.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I suggest that you appear open to the idea but postpone it until the summer. The twins are your friends; with their help, you can make agreeable plans for a week of your summer. No more, hopefully. Other than that, be yourself. It’s public knowledge that you don’t like Ron. There’s no need to become his friend or force a closeness. Further, make it clear that you are not allowed to be in anyone’s home if Argo cannot accompany you.”

“No Argo, no Harry.” Harry nodded approvingly.

They ate in companionable silence as they waited for the others. Narcissa was the first to arrive. Before sitting, she walked up to Harry and placed a kiss on his head. Harry observed her having a silent conversation with Snape, but other than her initial greetings, she focused on filling her plate. Lucius arrived shortly after; his entrance was too direct and formal for Harry’s comfort.

“Heir Potter, I must thank you for saving my son.” Lucius bowed shallowly, Harry nodded awkwardly, and the lord took his seat.

Thankfully, Lucius proceeded with more relaxed manners after that exchange. After a while longer, Harry heard running. Draco burst into the room.

“You’re awake!” He rushed over and pulled Harry into a hug. “I was so worried. Everyone said you were okay, but I was still worried.” Draco squeezed once more and sat next to him. “I spent most of New Year’s Day without you. I didn’t like it.” Draco shook his head as he began plating his food. “Serafina will be delighted that you’re awake. She’s been hunting a lot. She dragged in a deer! I think it’s for dinner tonight.” Draco looked at Narcissa, seeking confirmation.

“We’ve decided on having it for lunch, dear. A hearty venison stew, and then a long walk on the grounds for some much-needed fresh air and restoration. How does that sound?” She looked at everyone but lingered on Harry.

“Sounds perfect.” Harry smiled softly. “Where is Howell?”

“Oh, uh, Midha picked him up in her talons and flew out of a window yesterday afternoon. I think she was trying to help, but it looked very intense,” Draco said. Snape snorted.

“They’ve been friends a long time. I’m sure they had their reasons.” Harry shrugged it off. “They’ll probably find us while we’re out walking, if not sooner.”

Just then, a house elf appeared with the morning post. Harry spotted the Daily Prophet and had to contain his excitement. He felt like he was vibrating with anticipation, and Draco gave him an odd look.

Lucius opened the paper and let out a surprised exhale. “Severus, you’re going to want to see this.” Lucius handed over the paper.

The accompanying article went on to explain that a mysterious benefactor saw tremendous potential in Snape and his research. Snape had inspired them; the benefactor wanted to encourage the spirit of innovation in healing, academia, and beyond. They fervently wished the contribution would help relieve, or even remove, some of the obstacles impeding progress and thus the betterment of magical humans everywhere.

Snape, having gotten the gist, set the paper down and stared off into space. He had not expected that amount of money or level of publicity.

“Is everything alright, Uncle Severus?” Draco asked carefully. His parents looked astonished. Harry presented a neutral expression, but Draco sensed an excited buzz underneath. Severus… Well, he didn’t know what to make of his uncle’s face or vibe. Draco looked helplessly at his parents; his father floated the paper to him. Harry looked over his shoulder to read the article as well. “I don’t understand. This is great! Why does he look like that?” Then, doubt set in. “It is great, isn’t it?”

”Yes, son,” Lucius said, “but Severus has grown too familiar with bad news. It will take a little while for this to settle.”

Harry moved his hand in front of Snape’s face and snapped his fingers. Snape glowered; Harry grinned unrepentantly. “We couldn’t have you stupefied all day. This is fantastic, Professor Snape. Do you have any immediate ideas for how to put the money to good use?”

“It is too large an amount, Mr. Potter!”

“Nonsense!” Narcissa said. “It is a perfect amount, and it could be just the start!” She clapped her hands. “We must celebrate!”

“I don’t think it has sunk in yet, my friend. This is just the start! Other contributions will come your way, I’m sure of it. Commissions! Do you know what it would do for your reputation if light families lent support? My mind is racing, Severus. Do catch up soon,” Lucius said.

“I like the way you think, Lucius!” Harry shouted and lifted his glass of water in a toast. The rest did the same, but Snape had to be nudged to do so.

“To Severus!” Narcissa said happily.

“To Severus!”

———

Snape was trying to resist the paranoia. He knew the menace wasn’t avoiding him. There was simply no way for them to justify having a private conversation right now. Still, Snape was itching to speak with him. It made the after-meal walk seem interminable.

On the other hand, it was nice to see the boy so well recovered. Howell was back on his shoulders; the familiar would occasionally move along his body as if to reassure himself that Harry was well. Midha was circling them, and Serafina kept bumping the boy’s side.

When everyone was ready to return to the manor, Harry said, “Would it be alright if Professor Snape and I had a private word?”

Narcissa smiled sweetly and nodded. “Of course, dear. We’ll see you when you’re ready.” She continued on, making sure Draco was beside her.

“Go on, Wild Girl,” Harry said to Serafina. “I need you to keep Draco calm.” He offered one more pat, and she ran to join Draco. Midha flew to a nearby perch, and Howell dropped onto the ground. “Alright, sir, I’m all yours. Let’s hear it.” Harry subtly tugged on Snape’s sleeve so that they’d resume walking with their backs to the manor.

“50,000 galleons! What were you thinking?” Snape whisper-shouted.

Harry chuckled. “The amount was carefully considered with Gringotts’ support. I think that the only reason the amount seems exorbitant to you is because you are the recipient.”

“Dumbledore will think this amount is suspicious,” Snape said firmly.

“He would think fifty galleons was suspicious. He is welcome to do his own research and decide for himself what a fair amount is, but I would never trust his conclusion. He is far too invested in minimizing your efforts. I’m just happy this doesn’t make your position more fraught. You can honestly tell him that you met your benefactor and entered into a vow that prohibits you from revealing their secrets. There’s an agreement waiting for you at Gringotts, whenever you are ready, that can be tailored to your needs.”

Snape snorted. “I suppose future beneficial meetings provide plausible excuses to leave the castle, especially during school holidays.”

“It makes sense that your benefactor would want to hear about your work.” Harry winked.

Snape looked skyward. “The write-up was effusive.”

“That’s the paper’s style. When you read it again, you’ll hopefully see that there were no exaggerations, half-truths, or lies.”

They continued walking for a while longer, mostly in silence. For every concern Snape mentioned, Harry responded effortlessly. Snape found the boy’s hands-off approach striking. Harry did not give an opinion on how to handle Dumbledore; he did not expect to be kept updated. The 11-year-old child was treating him more like a responsible adult, who could make his own decisions, than the headmaster did! Furthermore, Snape could tell that this attitude wasn’t a result of an abundance of trust; the boy was truly disinterested in controlling him. The boy seemed to think that he’d done his part, including protecting himself, and now, it was Snape’s turn to do what he thought best.

When their walk veered back towards the manor, both were lighter, and the Malfoys welcomed them without question. Snape realized that for the most part — abduction, death, and cover-up aside — this was a very pleasant holiday.

———

Snape was allowed 2 more days without Dumbledore’s interference; when the summons arrived, he was ready. He walked into the castle with his head held high and courteously received congratulations from McGonagall, Sprout, and Vector. Snape even apologized for cutting the conversation short, informing them of his meeting with the headmaster.

“I’ll come with you, Severus,” McGonagall said and bid goodbye to the other two.

“He’ll wish to speak with me alone,” Snape said as they walked.

“He often does; however, I am entitled to hearing the part of the meeting that directly impacts the school.” McGonagall gave him a shrewd look.

“I’ll leave that to you to navigate.”

McGonagall hummed lightly. “How are Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter enjoying their holiday?”

“Well, I think. When I left, they were about to go flying.”

“Children and their brooms. Do you think Mr. Malfoy will try out for quidditch next year?”

“Undoubtedly. He aspires to be a chaser, but in the long run, I think coaching would suit him better.”

“He has done wonders with Mr. Potter. I’ve even seen them running around the lake.” McGonagall chuckled. Snape hummed, and they lapsed into silence until they reached the gargoyle. “The moment of truth,” McGonagall muttered before speaking the password.

Dumbledore sat in his desk chair wearing a solemn expression, and McGonagall’s presence visibly disrupted him. The headmaster did not bother to pretend otherwise. “Ah, Minerva, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I assumed you wanted to speak with Severus about his well-deserved recognition. So, I thought I’d join you. It does affect the school after all.”

“It does, but I’m certain Severus and I can come to an arrangement; we’ll update you when necessary.”

“No need. I’m here now, and if his accolade means there’s an opportunity for more study groups, I want to have my say.” Minerva took a seat. “Come, Severus, sit by me.” Minerva reached forward and patted the chair closest to her.

Snape sat down, his expression carefully neutral. “If you insist.”

“I do. Now, Albus, where would you like to start?”

“You are correct, Minerva, that I wanted to discuss Severus’ news. After a couple of days of thought, I’ve decided that it would be most inappropriate for Severus to accept the funds.”

McGonagall’s eyes goggled. She gave Snape a disbelieving look and was surprised to see no reaction from the man. “Severus, does this not upset you?”

“No,” Snape said plainly. McGonagall sat back as if slapped. Dumbledore looked pleased, which did not escape the deputy headmistress’s notice. “I thought the headmaster would be displeased, especially when I did not receive a note of congratulations. So, in an effort to assuage any of the headmaster’s concerns, I took it upon myself to request a meeting with my would-be benefactor.” The headmaster sat up, eager to learn more. “He made himself available. However, I had to sign a very detailed non-disclosure agreement before I could even meet with him. I’m sorry, Albus, but he was exceedingly thorough. I did not leave our meeting without entering into a vow with him as well.”

“What can you tell us, dear boy?”

“He is new to England’s magical community,” Snape offered.

“Can you tell us from where he hails?” Dumbledore pressed.

“No. As I said, he was thorough.”

“Did you try to reject the money?” Dumbledore asked.

“As politely as I dared, yes. He had strong arguments for his decision to support my research and clarified his dispassion for excessively influencing the direction of my work. There are some conditions, of course.”

“Such as?” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.

“I cannot simply give the funds away, for instance, and he’d like to meet regularly to discuss my progress.”

“That all sounds reasonable,” McGonagall said. “How does he feel about the study groups?”

“He likes them, but he’d like for my work to be separate from the school,” Snape said cautiously.

“How so?” Minerva asked.

“He doesn’t want the research limited by my association with Hogwarts. So he insisted my work be more independent. It’s acceptable that the study groups are inspired by or stimulate my research, but the specifics and the results should be mine alone.”

“That’s all very reasonable, Severus.” Minerva chuckled. “I was worried he wanted you to leave the school.”

“On the contrary, he appreciates that my duties here prevent me from keeping pace with full-time researchers.”

“Severus,” Dumbledore began, “I don’t know that I could allow independent research when it does not benefit the school.”

“‘Does not benefit’?” Minerva shook her head. “Are you hearing yourself, Albus? Severus’ very presence in the school benefits Hogwarts and its students. That is just by reputation alone. Add to that his expertise and his dedication to sharing his knowledge. Severus” — McGonagall turned to Snape — “do you think you could take on an apprentice with this sort of benefaction? In time, it might make it possible for you to do more research; the apprentice could help with your teaching duties. Oh, Severus, this is marvelous! My mind is filled with ideas.

“You know, I think this opens up fundraising opportunities! Albus, we should organize a celebration and invite the school board, members of the ministry, former students…” Minerva drifted off pensively and then stood purposefully. “I’m going to find Filius and Pomona to discuss this further. I’ll leave you to the more private part of your meeting.” Minerva looked at Snape before opening the door and winked.

Snape blinked in surprise and turned to face Dumbledore. “I had no idea she was this inspired by the news.”

“Nor did I.” Dumbledore glared at the door. “Severus, I cannot support your connection to this benefactor. I did some research, and no one knows who he is. Unlike you, they were not allowed to meet him. My contacts at the Daily Prophet said that their knowledge was acquired through the man’s intermediaries. And since the article focused on you, they were prepared to take what he offered without suspicion.” Dumbledore stood and began to pace. “Do you believe this is connected to Mr. Potter’s mysterious guardian? The Gringotts connection has me concerned.”

“Headmaster, this style of business is not uncommon with Gringotts. I do not believe my benefactor is Mr. Potter’s guardian.”

“So, you’ve accepted?” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.

“I had no obvious reason to refuse, Headmaster. I considered it thoroughly; rejection would have raised more questions, especially with the news being in the Daily Prophet.”

“My boy, you should have come to me before meeting him.” Dumbledore inhaled deeply. “What’s done is done. Perhaps you can request that I attend the next meeting. As the headmaster, I should be informed directly. Until I can be sure of his motives, the funds should not be touched. I cannot guarantee that he is not planning to take advantage of you, Severus.”

Snape nodded. “I understand, Headmaster.”

“I’m sorry it has come to this, Severus. I worry that you have fallen prey to yet another with nefarious intent. I’ll see what I can do about tempering Minerva’s enthusiasm.”

Snape nodded and stood to leave.

———

When Snape reached the third floor, Flitwick found him. “Ah, Severus, just the man I was looking for! Come, I must congratulate you with a glass of whiskey in my hand.”

Of course… Just like that, Snape walked towards Flitwick’s private quarters for his second undesired meeting of the day.

Once settled, Flitwick said, “I am happy for you, Severus, but that is not what I wish to discuss.”

“Ah, hence the wards. I thought perhaps you were growing attached to them, Filius.”

“In a way. I thought it best to leave them up full-time. I’ve told Albus I’m experimenting with new techniques. It’s true enough. I can discuss my findings if asked.”

Alright. Snape took another sip of his drink. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Madam Medallion,” Flitwick said bluntly. “Not what you were expecting?” Snape shook his head. “That woman scares me, Severus. When I was a young boy, I saw her scold a goblin elder, and he listened.”

Snape snorted. Flitwick narrowed his eyes. “My apologies, Filius. It’s been a day, and I worried you’d say far worse.”

“Severus, as you know, there is much I cannot say about goblin culture.” Snape nodded in acknowledgment. “But I can tell you that she is influential, and I am astounded that she has taken a liking to a young wizard.”

“You believe she has an interest in Mr. Potter?”

Flitwick shook his head. “No. Well, yes. It’s more that I think she likes him. When she left that day, she said, ‘Be sure to keep an eye on him, Professor Flitwick.’ There was something about the way she said the words: it felt like a command.” Flitwick sighed. “I imagined this conversation differently. I don’t know how to explain it, Severus. I tell you because you are his head of house, and in his way, he appears to like you.”

“Do you think her regard might have more to do with Mr. Potter’s mysterious guardian?”

Flitwick shook his head. “No. I think this is specific to him. Severus, the familiarity she demonstrated is unique.”

Flitwick’s disquiet surprised Snape. It didn’t make him doubt Madam Medallion. Even Flitwick himself wasn’t concerned about the boy’s safety. There was an underlying reason, and for some reason, the charms professor could not expand on it.

“I will bear this in mind, Filius. Thank you for telling me.”

Flitwick nodded absently, and they sat in silence for a while longer.

Chapter Text

Harry was feeling sad about returning to school. He’d miss the Malfoys, but more importantly, it seemed wrong to say “goodbye” to Argo without a plan to keep in touch. “Are you sure we can’t write to each other this time?”

“Young one, it’s not easy to write to a house elf. Midha could get disoriented when trying to reach me,” Argo said gently.

“What if I sent the letter ‘care of’ Madam Medallion, and we sort out a tray for you?”

“I do not think it’s appropriate to involve Madam Medallion in such correspondence, young one. And before you ask, it would be equally inappropriate to send me letters ‘care of’ Gringotts.”

Harry slumped into a chair, his face contorting with determination. I got it! Harry jumped up. “I’ll ask Narcissa!”

Argo’s eyes widened. “Young one!” The boy did not turn as he fled the room. Argo contemplated an interference, but instead, they decided to watch.

The boy barely remembered to compose himself before approaching the lady of the house. They observed the polite greeting and earnest request; to Argo’s surprise, she readily agreed.

“Of course, Harry. Argo already has a space in your room. I’ll add a collection tray to your desk myself; they may collect the placed items at their leisure.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Harry bounced a little, and Narcissa smiled at his restraint. He turned and walked quickly towards the stairs; then, as soon as possible, he ran. Harry burst into his room to find an unruffled house elf. “Argo! It’s all sorted! I can send letters ‘care of’ Narcissa, and she’ll put them in a tray here!” Harry knocked on the desk. “On this desk, in this room! Isn’t this great? I think it’s great! I know we aren’t the chattiest with one another, but last term, I had so many things I wanted to tell you…”

Argo listened to the boy natter as he made a final review of the room and his belongings. Madam Medallion had said the boy was sincere about wanting to keep in touch directly, but Argo had thought it best to maintain a professional distance. The young one, however, was inordinately persistent.

———

The train ride back to Hogwarts was mostly uneventful, which Harry appreciated. There was one instance in which Ron tried to provoke Harry: as Harry passed by, the unpleasant Weasley shouted, “Keep your Death Eater friends away from my brothers!” Said brothers flicked cara-melos at his head and told him to “cara-melo out,” allowing Harry to happily continue walking towards his friends. To Ron’s annoyance, the twins soon followed.

Neville clumsily asked each Slytherin he came upon if they knew, or could guess, what topic Snape would explore “now that he’s a big-time researcher.” Despite his creative efforts, Neville did not achieve the level of nonchalance he was aiming for; the Slytherins graciously refrained from calling Neville’s attention to his transparency. Harry could tell that Neville did not want any questions from his brother either; so, he accepted that Neville would say something if, or when, he wanted to.

The Weasley twins, being brash Gryffindors, nearly asked about Neville’s odd behavior, but Pansy and Daphne were quicker. They subtly elbowed the twins in a well-timed maneuver, effectively shutting them up. Their coughing drew Neville’s attention but not for long.

Hermione was the biggest surprise of the trip. She caught Harry on his way back from the bathroom. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hello, Hermione,” Harry said guardedly.

“How was your holiday?” she asked with some effort.

“It was great. Thank you for asking,” he said, and she nodded. After a moment, she furrowed her brows as if willing him to do more. “How was your holiday, Hermione?”

“Thank you for asking. I had a wonderful time.” Another awkward pause followed before she added, “Okay, well, see you around school.” Harry nodded, and Hermione walked away.

When he got back to his compartment, Harry said, “I think you all should know that Hermione seems to be improving her communication skills.”

“I can’t tell if we should be glad or afraid,” Fred said.

“Both, I imagine,” Draco said. “You do share a house with her.”

“Well, if she gives it an honest try and succeeds, that’ll be good for everyone,” Pansy said. Then a horrified look crossed her face. “She doesn’t expect us to be her friends, does she?” Blaise laughed.

“I doubt it,” Harry said.

“Me too,” Neville agreed. “Plus, no offense to you Slytherins, but I don’t think improved communication skills will be enough to overpower her suspicions of snakes.”

“No offense taken, Neville. We are suspicious,” Blaise said with a wink.

“Yeah, she’s not going to want to be friends with you,” Neville said.

———

Being back at the castle was bittersweet. Harry was happy to resume his studies and be around his friends, but he preferred the freedom of Malfoy Manor. Harry still felt too many eyes on him, and he wondered which pairs reported to the headmaster — voluntarily or otherwise. Now that he knew that ward holders could potentially notice his absence when he sank into the wall, Harry was more cautious: he carefully tracked when he did it and how the headmaster watched him at the following meal.

He kept the Marauders’ Map on him at all times, storing it in the leather pouch Madam Medallion had given him. He couldn’t count on always having his school bag with him; it would look suspicious if he did. So Harry resolved to find a different bag over the summer holiday, one that he could carry anytime without attracting attention. Harry liked scarves. Why not non-school bags too?

Despite the self-consciousness, tracking, and scheming, it wasn’t Dumbledore who most affected Harry’s wall-walking time. Draco did. He had seemed well recovered from the Parkinson Manor ordeal, but being away from home revealed a layer of hidden emotion: Draco did not like it when Harry wasn’t around. Even though he was the one who had been targeted, Draco feared that Harry would disappear. So Harry stayed close, and Draco leaned into him from time to time, especially when seated together on a common room sofa.

Harry didn’t mind Draco’s need for closeness, but he worried that he would do something wrong. Harry wasn’t used to being needed in that way. He’d gotten better, thanks to Draco mostly, but this level of closeness spoke of a deeper emotional requirement that Harry knew he was not equipped for. So, Harry went to Snape.

His head of house informed him that Draco’s previous concerns, before the ordeal, were likely magnified. “This isn’t all about Dolohov, Mr. Potter. Look at it from a different angle: there are known threats in the castle; if an attack can occur at a normally safe event, then it's more likely to occur where attacks are expected.”

“Oh… I guess I’m just used to having to watch my back. I didn’t…” Harry didn’t know what to think, much less say.

“Mr. Potter, how do you feel here at Hogwarts?”

“I, um, feel okay. I mean, it’s more restrictive than I’d like. Too many eyes on me. I’m more used to being unseen.” Harry shrugged.

Snape nodded. “For someone like Draco, Mr. Potter, Hogwarts offers him a chance to be more relaxed. Here, he represents himself more than his parents or his family name. He can make mistakes and be silly with other children, with the confidence that he will be perceived as a child. Beyond these walls, anywhere that isn’t his home, his actions would have greater consequences.”

“I can see that, but how can I help him worry less about me? We’re already dealing with Dumbledore, and Ron is just pathetic. That leaves Quirrell…”

“Mr. Potter, that was not the point of what I said.”

“I know, but I have to do more than just be his leaning post,” Harry said frustratedly. Snape raised an eyebrow but left that detail alone.

“You’re doing it, Mr. Potter. You’re staying close and giving him what he needs. In time, he’ll find his balance again.”

“What if I get it wrong? His feelings are different from mine.”

“Yes, we’ve established that. Is that not why you are here?” Harry nodded. “Then, keep reaching out for help. There’s no shame in that.”

“I know. Madam Medallion said that we could start training. You know, weights and weapons.” Harry stared off into space. Snape chose not to say anything. He didn’t want to encourage or discourage, lest it backfire. “Do you think you could get him a knife, sir?”

“And that brings our meeting to an end. Goodnight, Mr. Potter. Please proceed wisely.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay, okay. I can see how asking a professor for a potential weapon could be regarded as unwise.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Thank you, Professor Snape.”

When Harry returned to the common room, he was still smiling. “Hey, Dray.”

“Where were you?” Draco asked. “I thought you were with Snape.”

Harry threw an arm around Draco. “I was. You know how funny he can be.”

“Harry, I don’t think anyone finds Snape as funny as you do,” Draco drawled.

Harry just shrugged. “Let’s go talk to the others. I have an idea.” Harry’s eyes danced wickedly, and Draco shook his head, smiling fondly.

———

“You want us to learn self-defense?” Crabbe asked incredulously.

“Muggle self-defense?” Flint asked.

“Is there a wix version?” Harry asked. “I don’t have a preference. I just want us to learn how to defend ourselves with more than just our wands.”

“I guess I can see the logic,” Sunila said. “I do think we are stronger quidditch players when we do other exercises too.”

“But Montgomery, how would we learn? Does anyone here know muggle self-defense?” Pucey asked.

“Electronics!” Hollis said.

“Exactly!” Harry said. “Draco and I have magic-compatible walkmans, and I was thinking we could get our hands on some video equipment that can work within the castle.”

“Potter, you do realize a lot of us were brought up believing muggles are inferior, right?” Bulstrode asked.

“I’m not asking you to marry a muggle, Mills.” She narrowed her eyes at the nickname. “You don’t even have to meet one in person. The video would play on a screen, and we could learn techniques. In fact, viewing could be optional too. Those who pick it up faster can maybe start teaching.”

Goyle looked at his fists. “And you’re saying that there are fighting styles that encourage punching?”

“Something like that, yeah. It’s called boxing.”

“How would we proceed?” Gemma asked. Harry beamed.

The house decided that everyone would chip in. That way, the equipment would belong to all. The share did not matter: even one knut would count. Daphne, who knew everyone’s finances better than Harry did, confirmed that the decision would not strain anyone. She took charge of the collection, and, as with her bets, the details were kept confidential. When Harry offered a bit more money “just in case anyone needed help,” Daphne pushed his hand away.

“I know what I’m doing, Potter.” Harry knew that she did, but the effects of scarcity were hard to shake. Daphne must have seen something in his face because she added, “I’ll let you know if there’s a problem, okay?”

Yeah, okay. Harry nodded.

Determining where to place the equipment was more challenging. Feelings were mixed. Some thought a well-protected classroom would suffice for the “gym,” and the “muggle video viewing” could be in the common room. Most wanted more secure options. Ideally, they could “add a room” to their password-protected space. This was their business, and “Slytherins did not reveal their capabilities to potential threats.”

Ha! Harry loved Slytherins.

Harry decided that it was finally time to find out where the house elves stood on keeping secrets. Were there some things they “had to” report to the headmaster? Did they make decisions like that as a community, or did they have to worry about informers too?

As it turned out, the house elves didn’t “have to” tell the headmaster much; Harry got the impression that they’d learned that the hard way. He wondered how many times they’d brought a concern to his attention only to be dismissed. If the headmaster could dismiss concerns from his “trusted team,” he could disregard anything. The house elves answered Harry’s questions carefully. He would not be privy to details about their inner workings or concerns, but they would help the Slytherins.

Works for me! Harry took great comfort in their communication style. They knew how to handle a conversation in a way that preserved their secrets, and that would keep them safer when dealing with the headmaster.

As far as Harry was concerned, the Hogwarts house elves were great co-conspirators. They helped the Slytherins set up 2 rooms with a connecting door. One would be for video learning, and the other would be for practice. They’d start with basic gym equipment too, including mats and weights.

Draco took charge of selecting the equipment and deciding on the layout of the rooms. A select group decided on the electronics (thank you, Cottonwood Electronics!), and the video selection was chosen by all. Narcissa and Argo were invaluable in this process; Madam Medallion was pleased about the idea but reminded Harry not to neglect his meditative studies.

Harry had wanted to give the house elves a radio in thanks, but Twyla told him that it wasn’t worth the risk. He could see her point, but he didn’t like it. When he had asked what he could get them instead, Twyla patted his hand and popped away. Harry had chuckled. I’ll just get them more fabric.

———

During their “holiday tea,” Madam Medallion had revisited the topic of mind magic. Harry could tell she was walking a fine line, trying to nudge him into more enthusiastic practice without scaring him. He would’ve taken any guidance from her seriously — he already was. But if Madam Medallion, who was normally direct, was concerned that the extent of the need would frighten him, then Harry would have to redouble his efforts. And, if her chosen delivery was deliberately designed to get him to do just that, then well played, Madam!

Harry had known this day was coming. When she’d first told him about mind magic, she’d kept it simple: legilimency exists; don’t look Dumbledore in the eye; more instruction will follow. She’d told him that legilimency wasn’t “mind reading,” but in the short-term, it was okay to think of it as such. Madam Medallion made sure Harry understood that he was not powerless against such magic, but it would take time to build the strong mental defenses needed to confront a powerful legilimens.

All of this was easy to accept because the asshole had compelled him! Since he was still young and new to the magical world, Madam Medallion had recommended simple breathing techniques that would serve as a basis for self-awareness and observation. The idea was that this simpler practice would lead to a better understanding of himself, which in turn would make the sought-after skill — occlumency — easier to grasp. If one could think of legilimency as “mind reading,” occlumency was like a shield against intrusion.

Legilimency wasn’t inherently dangerous, but for the masses, that was the perception. Few discussed its other uses, both responding to and reinforcing the taboo. Eventually, whether legilimency was widely practiced or discussed mattered less than the fear that someone could use it against you. Therefore, occlumency was more easily talked about, especially within certain families. Slytherin families encouraged its study. For them, it was a no-brainer to add some occlumency skill to their defensive arsenal. They didn’t have to master the ability to enjoy some benefit either: occlumency aided stoicism, and Slytherins loved a neutral expression.

Harry had a long way to go before he attained any skill in occlumency, but the idea was to work towards it steadily. With each skill he honed, his foundation for mind magic would strengthen. There were surprisingly — or unsurprisingly, given who the headmaster was — few materials in Hogwarts’s library about legilimency or occlumency, but Harry knew he needed to get to know himself better. From what he could piece together, Madam Medallion’s approach supported the claim that the most skilled in mind magic knew themselves profoundly:

The most accomplished wizard knows his mind and magic beyond all else. Every facet of his potential is his to command. Only he is the master of his emotions. They are never allowed to overtake his control.

If Harry had not found the wording so hilariously obnoxious, he might have been intimidated. And no description of an “accomplished wizard” could be deemed complete if it did not also attempt to make women less:

The most well-known witches who have claimed to have some skill in this area are believed to have been born with the talent… It is unclear whether a witch possesses the necessary self-possession to master the magical mental arts without this inborn advantage.

Harry had closed the “most informative” book and rolled his eyes — For fuck’s sake! Harry had wished he could throw the book away, but he reluctantly returned it to the shelf. If he hadn’t needed to keep his interests hidden, he would have marched to the librarian's desk and demanded better reading options. Harry had decided right then and there to patiently embrace the recommended process and proceed when Madam Medallion believed he was ready for more information. She'd certainly find him a better book if it was ever needed. Still, it had been useful to be reminded that information found in books — even magical ones — wasn’t essentially correct.

When it was time for more, Madam Medallion explained how Harry could build on his breathing practice and deepen meditation. She wanted him to spend some time exploring his magic: “See if you can visualize your core, Harry. Many still think it’s a myth, and some sense it but never see it. However you get to know your magic will suffice, but aiming for the core is a good start. Nevertheless, you must find your way.” Alongside that was a brief exercise in achieving mental clarity: “It’s not an emptiness you are striving for, Harry, but a stillness.”

Determined to not waste Madam Medallion’s efforts, Harry practiced every night, and just before sleep, he worked at clearing his mind.

———

After a fortnight, the “gym” was ready for use. Before the first video screening, Pansy pulled Harry aside for a private chat.

“Is this because of what happened at… over New Year’s?”

“In a way, yes,” Harry admitted.

Pansy flopped onto a couch. “Father was so upset at himself, Harry. I’d never seen him so full of doubt. If Dolohov hadn’t convinced him to cast that notice-me-not on the Malfoys…”

Harry sat beside her. “It was my understanding that he was confounded.”

“Confundused.” Pansy nodded. “He was but only mildly. If he hadn’t felt so secure in his home, I think he would’ve noticed.”

“Pansy, I’m not giving your dad a pass. I’m glad he’s twisted up about this, but I can also see that Dolohov knew what he was doing. He knew who he needed where, and he knew how to act without being detected.”

“If anything had happened to Draco—”

“Something did happen.” Harry gave himself credit for not snapping, but Pansy reacted as if he had. She raised her shoulders and hung her head. In a gentler voice, Harry added, “But none of this is your fault, Pansy, and your family won’t make the same mistakes again.”

“I’ve been having nightmares,” Pansy whispered. “Daphne helps, but…”

“Have you told Draco?” Pansy shook her head. “I think you should.” She looked up. “He’s focused on me. I think he forgets that we were focused on him.”

“Harry, he’s always focused on you.” Pansy snorted and wiped her eyes.

“This is different.” Harry bumped her shoulder with his own. “It would help me to know that you two can relate to one another. Think of it that way.”

Pansy laughed. “I get it. Emotions confuse you.” She patted him on the shoulder and stood up. “Let’s go learn how to kick some butt.”

After two weeks, the results were inconclusive. Not everyone was interested in self-defense. Many of those, however, could still appreciate the value of exercise. Unsurprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle liked boxing. So, actual boxing gloves were added to the list of equipment to acquire. The transfigured ones were weird and, well, wrong: none of them knew boxing gloves well enough to recreate them.

On the plus side, there was a large group interested in martial arts. Since there were so many options, a schedule was put in place. Early risers could practice qi gong. In the afternoon, there were karate classes, and the evenings offered tai chi. Each day offered 2 slots of revolving options to narrow down what the next focus would be. Since it all got more complicated than anyone expected, a room manager was selected. Hollis Mercy, being the most well-liked Slytherin, was chosen, and she was firm.

“No, I told you: yoga is self-study. You are free to gather up your friends and share a scheduled block, but we will not be making this a fixed offering.” Hollis stared Sunila down until she huffed and walked away.

“Hollis, you amaze me,” Adrian said. “I’ve not seen anyone stand up to a quidditch captain like that.”

“The rules of the rooms will not bend for anyone.”

“And that is why you are perfect for the job, Hols,” Marcus said, raising his drink in a toast. She blushed when many in the common room did the same. A few without drinks nodded in agreement.

———

After a month of regular exercise and training, the rest of the school began to notice a change in the Slytherins.

“Okay, is it just me, or are the Slytherins more attractive?” Susan Bones asked.

Neville nearly spit out his drink. “What?” Then he looked over at the Slytherin table. “I mean, they’re sitting taller.”

Susan bumped his shoulder and rolled her eyes. “They are always sitting tall.”

“I think I see what you mean.” Hannah Abbot tilted her head. “What is it?”

Harry arrived, and Neville scooted over to make room. “It’s exercise,” he said, as he began to fill his plate.

“Potter!” Cedric Diggory called out. “There’s a game today; you’re not supposed to be sitting with the opposing team.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s my turn to join Neville, Diggory, game or no game.” Cedric rolled his eyes amusedly and returned to his meal. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing new.” Neville shrugged. “Susan was just commenting on the Slytherin good looks.”

“Fair enough.” Harry continued eating.

“Wait, what kind of exercise?” Susan asked.

“This and that. Weights, for example.” Harry shrugged.

“Weights?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah, anything can be a weight really, but you can buy specific things for exercise. Like dumbbells. Do you know dumbbells?”

By the look on Hannah’s face, they did not. Neville attempted to help things along. “Harry, I think she thinks you’re calling her ‘dumb.’”

Harry furrowed his brow, and in his mind, he replayed what he had said. “Oh!” Harry chuckled. “That’s not what I meant. You see, dumbbells are a type of exercise equipment that…”

That’s how Harry Potter helped spread the word of fitness at Hogwarts. Rumors had already circulated that something was going on with the Slytherins, and before then, an upper-year had drawn attention to an unforeseen vulnerability: “The people I fuck are going to know something is up. No pun intended.”

The Slytherins still planned to hide their true intentions, but fortunately, they’d agreed that admitting to general exercise was acceptable — even if it appeared muggle. Harry and Draco had been seen running around the lake, after all, and no one credited wixes with its invention. Running just was; maybe weights were too at some point. Their ancestors might have lifted boulders for fun before such activities fell out of favor. In any case, the Slytherins believed they could “manage the repercussions.” The self-declared “sex magnet,” the one who revealed the “sex partner blind spot,” said: “I know how to distract someone.”

Harry would leave that to them. He had challenges, but being associated with the muggle world was not one of them. And who knows? Maybe with a bit of luck, Sunila might get a Hogwarts-wide yoga class started one day.

———

The Slytherin vs Hufflepuff match was fairly interesting, Harry thought. Sunila was very clear about Harry’s assignment: he was not to catch the snitch until Slytherin was at least 100 points ahead. Ambitious but okay. The most challenging part of Harry’s task was diverting Cedric.

“Potter! If you cut me off one more time, I’ll fly through you!”

“Don’t be mad, Diggory. I’m just following orders.” Harry waved and flew away.

When the time was right for Harry to chase the snitch, Cedric tried to cut him off; Harry just flew around him. He caught the snitch, cheered with his team, and headed for the showers. Before he got there, though, Cedric reached him.

“Potter!” Harry turned. “A word?” Harry’s eyes narrowed appraisingly. “Nothing like that. I just want to get something off my chest.” Harry shrugged and followed, waving his wand to allow for privacy. “O-kay, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Too many eavesdroppers. What’s up?”

“Potter, being beaten by you is a bummer. Don’t get me wrong. You’re an excellent flyer, but Merlin! Can you at least pretend that you’re playing to win?” Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “You look like you’re just biding your time. Why are you even on the team? Don’t you like quidditch?”

“Quidditch is alright. I joined because they said they needed me. They know I could take it or leave it. I like flying, and I like training. But actual game time…” Harry shrugged.

“Well, have you watched a quidditch game? From the stands?”

“No, actually.” Harry looked off in the distance. “I was going to watch the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff game, but… You know, I’m not sure. Something must have come up.”

Cedric laughed and shook his head. “Okay, well, that makes me feel a little better. Could you please watch some games? You know, get into the spirit of it. Maybe over the summer, you could go to a game. Do you mind if I write to you?”

“I don’t mind, but write to me ‘care of’ Gringotts. The muggles I live with are magic-averse. I have my post rerouted, but letters sent via Gringotts reach me sooner.”

Cedric nodded. “I’ll look at the quidditch schedule and recommend some games I think will inspire your sense of competition.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, I get it. Now, go away. I need a shower.” He cancelled the privacy spell and moved towards the Slytherin changing room. Draco and the others were waiting for him.

“What did he want, Harry?” Blaise asked carefully.

“He’d like to see me more invested in the game, especially if he has to lose to me.”

“Come to think of it, I agree,” Draco said. “Many of the students just think you’re being a smug Slytherin.”

“We, of course, know better,” Theo said.

“Did he suggest ways for you to find excitement?” Daphne asked suspiciously.

“He told me to watch a game.” Harry pulled at his uniform. “I need to shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Merlin! He hasn’t seen a game?” Pansy asked in shock.

“Draco, you didn’t include spectating in your training regimen?” Blaise asked.

“I…” Draco frowned; then his eyes widened. “With all of the exercise and reading, I thought nothing of it when he wanted a break during the non-Slytherin games.”

Daphne threw an arm around Draco’s shoulder. “That’s a problem we need to rectify.”

Draco nodded jerkily. “How could I have missed this?” His friends laughed. “Don’t laugh! This is serious.” They laughed harder.

———

Life continued. Harry was 98% sure Dumbledore had zero clue about the wall-walking or rather, his “absence” when he did. Draco liked knowing where Harry was, but his need for physical closeness was settling. Studies were mostly enjoyable, even the ones with tried-to-kill-me-Quirrell. Harry wondered if his ability to put such a thing behind him was unhealthy. Had his experiences with Voldemort, Dumbledore, and the Dursleys inured him, or was he merely making the best of an unideal situation? If it weren’t for his journey towards occlumency, Harry doubted he’d be questioning himself at all.

That particular extracurricular practice had become remarkably interactive. Harry’s goblin statue was projecting himself, in some way, into his mind. He’d accepted this easily; it was almost like meeting an old friend. The goblin had just shown up one day as Harry was getting a sense of his magic.

“Call me Oak,” he’d said, and that was that. Harry had a personal instructor. But just in case this was highly unusual, Harry checked in with Madam Medallion.

“Trust the process, Harry.”

Okay.

Oak had guided him to observe his magical core and talked to him about the “internal connection to all.” Harry could not decide if “all” referred to the Goblin Nation, all magical beings, or another “all” entirely. But Harry liked Oak; so he had no trouble with trusting the process. Furthermore, it was fun to see which pose the statue would assume before Harry opened his eyes in the morning.

Some nights, Harry fell asleep like normal without Oak’s guidance. He had a feeling Oak was breaking him in slowly. On solitary nights, Harry often explored his “hall of memories.” As vivid and recurring as some memories were, there were still some to discover or see with wiser eyes. On this night, Harry gravitated towards one involving a big dog.

The large canine energetically ran around before turning into Harry’s uncle Sirius and then back again. The dog — Padfoot — nosed baby Harry’s stomach to make him giggle.

When Harry awoke, he found he had tears in his eyes, and he immediately reached for the Marauders’ Map. He lovingly stroked it and wondered not for the first time if the others were animagi too. He already knew Padfoot was a dog. Prongs was likely a deer. Wormtail made him think of a rat. Moony was tricky, Harry thought. Then, a memory surfaced.

“Hey Pads,” his father said. Baby Harry was reaching for Sirius, who bounded over to lift and twirl him.

“Prongslet!” Sirius said.

“Don’t call him that, Pads. You know Lily doesn’t want us ‘limiting his potential.’” Harry’s father darted his eyes around.

“James, you don’t really buy into that, do you? I don’t think calling him ‘prongslet’ is going to make him sprout antlers. He can be anything he wants to be, right, Harry?” Sirius turned fond eyes on baby Harry as he cradled him close. “You can be an owl or a fox or a rabbit or—”

“Please, Merlin, don’t let him be a rabbit. I’ve seen Moony eat too many rabbits to ever feel comfortable with that outcome.”

Sirius laughed before turning somber. “Moony had a rough one last night, Prongs. Sometimes I wonder how much more of this he can take.”

“Do you think there’s something to the idea of him bonding with the wolf? Lily’s research—”

“After all these years, I don’t think he’d even consider it.”

“What’s the alternative? Wolf out once a month until he just can’t take it anymore?!” James’s raised voice startled baby Harry.

“Would you calm down? You scared Harry,” Sirius chastised. “It’s okay, sweets, your da is just worried about our friend.” Baby Harry reached for Sirius’ face, and his uncle caught his hand and gave it a little kiss. “He’s perfect, James. If you get nothing else right in your life, you did a great job bringing this one into being.”

“If I get everything else right, he’d still be the best of me.”

“Well, that’s just sappy,” Sirius said playfully while looking at Harry. So, of course, baby Harry giggled. “There’s such a thing as too sweet. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Harry drifted out of his memory, unknowingly nodding along with Sirius. He sat quietly for a while until his bed curtains were slowly pulled back.

“Harry?” Draco asked softly.

“Hey, Dray. Come, sit. I think it’s time to show you something.” Draco sat beside him, closed the curtain, and cast privacy spells. “This is the Marauders’ Map, and it’s connected to my family.”

“It doesn’t look like a map.”

“It will.”

“How do you know it’s connected to your family?”

“Well, that’s part of what I want to tell you. It’s time, I think. You already know I have memories of… before. Right?” Draco nodded. “Well, it’s not just a memory here and there. It’s so much more; they were like a guide, and sometimes, memories unlock or something. Others resurface and take on a deeper meaning… They are so vivid, Draco.” Harry inhaled deeply and smoothed the map under his hand. “Memories saved me. I was so young when my parents died… It’s a miracle I have any at all; I know that, and I consider myself lucky for having them...

“Anyway, I wasn’t just a baby with memories I didn’t fully understand. My memories were always doing the rounds, you know? So, as I grew up, they took on new meanings. It’s still happening, and I can value them for more than just ‘what used to be.’ Do you get it?” Draco nodded unsurely. “I think as I’ve been meditating, the connections to these memories are getting stronger. And I think I’ve finally figured something out. See here…” Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment and listed names as he spoke. “My father and his friends called themselves the ‘Marauders.’” Draco made a face. “It’s stupid, I know, but bear with me. They were a group of four: Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail. I knew the names were familiar, and… just… Padfoot is Sirius Black. Prongs is my father, James Potter. Moony is Remus Lupin, and Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew.”

Draco listened carefully. “Do you know why they called themselves that?”

Harry nodded. “I do now, yeah. Mostly. I think I do. You see, I have a memory of Sirius turning into a big black dog. I don’t have memories of the others’ forms. But I’m pretty sure Moony is a werewolf, and Prongs is likely a deer.”

“Wormtail sounds like a rat,” Draco said.

“Exactly!” Harry was beginning to feel more confident. “Draco, you already know I don’t think Sirius Black betrayed my parents. Or me, I guess I should say.”

“Because of the memories,” Draco said.

“Because of the memories,” Harry echoed and tapped his own head. “There’s too much love in my memories of him. I just don’t think he’d betray us.”

“Have you told anyone? I mean, anyone, who can do anything about it?”

“Yes, but without proof, there isn’t much that can be done. It needs to be irrefutable. You know he didn’t have a trial, but there’s more. For instance, my parents’ wills were sealed by the ministry—”

“What?! Why?”

“Fuck knows. I try not to think too much about it. Tackling that isn’t a path worth pursuing. I was an only child; I can’t imagine the information contained would be world-shattering. But I know that Sirius would have been first in line to take custody of me, given that he’s my godfather.”

“So you think he was conveniently cast aside,” Draco concluded.

“Yes.” Harry nodded.

“I’m glad you’re telling me this, Harry, really, but—”

“Why am I telling you this now?” Draco nodded. “It felt like the right time, for one. Also, I want to show you what the map can do.” Harry tapped the map with his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Draco’s eyes goggled at the revelation upon the parchment and ran his fingers over the names Harry had listed.

“Merlin, Harry… Did you find this in your vault and remember the phrase? I don’t understand how this is possible! May I?” Harry handed the map to Draco, who stared at it mesmerically. “This can never fall into the wrong hands, Harry. It’s a stalker’s dream. Look! There’s Snape. Wait, is he coming—”

Harry quickly tapped the map and whispered the phrase to conceal the contents. Just as he tucked the map into his pocket, his curtain whipped open.

“Children!” Draco and Harry looked at Snape’s thunderous face innocently. “Next time, do use the privacy spells that allow you to hear your surroundings! Get up; I have news to share.” Snape whirled around and headed for the door. “Common room, 2 minutes!”

Once in the common room, Snape gave them an unimpressed stare for good measure; several Slytherins snickered. “It has been brought to my attention that your self-defense training would benefit from more structure.” Snape looked at Hollis, who was sitting up proudly. “To that end, I am willing to take on five of you to teach privately. Those five will be asked to lead the others in sparring sessions. I have a list of five recommendations now, but they will not be forced to take on this role. And your opinions are welcome. These are the five: Cassius Warrington, Gemma Fawley, Terrence Higgs, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy.”

“Sir, if you can take on a couple more, I think Adrian Pucey and Millicent Bulstrode would be a good fit too,” Harry suggested.

“Oh! And Hollis,” Sunila suggested, and the room manager blushed. “With 8, they could teach in pairs. That helps, right?”

“Very well, are the recommended students interested?”

“What would it involve, sir?” Hollis asked.

“On a schedule convenient to us all, we would congregate in one of your training rooms. I’ll teach you some more advanced skills and offer suggestions that could help you instruct the others. Then, when you’re ready, I want you to lead sparring sessions. It’s imperative to practice what you are learning. Otherwise, you’re mostly exercising, and when you must call upon these skills in a fight, you’ll lose precious seconds to recall. Now, those of you who are not interested in being one of these leaders, please decline while also recommending someone else. Sparring sessions will eventually be optional, but you must participate in 6 sessions before opting out. Are we all agreed?” There were nods and murmurs of assent. “Those of you who were recommended, please speak with me before I go.”

The would-be advanced students gathered around Snape, and the others broke into various discussions. Harry leaned into Theo’s space. “I know Snape has a lot on, but if this goes well, do you think we could get him to lead us in dueling practice too?”

“Potter, seriously, your ideas have merit, but Snape will eventually snap if you push him too far. Besides, some of the older years would be happy to get us started. Many take lessons out of school and already share advanced spells with us.”

“Harry, let people recover from the ‘familiar habitat’ debacle, yeah?” Daphne said.

Harry laughed. “I had no idea the little sun would get hotter as the day went on!”

Pansy burst into laughter too. “Oh, Merlin! It was a sauna in here!”

Then the group chorused, “My eyes are burning, Potter!”

“My eyes were burning, you little shits!” Marcus shouted.

“Language, Mr. Flint,” Snape said. “The recommended students have accepted their new responsibilities. Ms. Mercy will advise you of the schedule when it is finalized. Enjoy the rest of your day, children. Try not to bother me unless it is unavoidable. I’ll be experimenting in my lab all day.”

After Snape was gone, the first years chorused again: “My eyes are burning, Potter!”

Marcus looked at Adrian, gesturing to the first-year Slytherins. “Do you see what I mean now?”

“I do, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t just leave the room.”

“It kind of snuck up on me.”

———

Harry took advantage of Draco being occupied with Snape to explore the castle in a different way. He wanted to see what it was like to navigate the castle without relying on his wall-walking abilities. So, map in hand, he set out. He made it to the third floor without encountering anyone. But then a door slammed open, and on instinct, Harry sank into the wall.

“Albus, I’m telling you Quirrell is after the stone,” Snape whispered angrily.

“There is still no evidence that he is more than he seems, Severus. Must you persist with this paranoia? Hogwarts is safe.”

“Albus, the course is too simple,” Snape gritted.

“Even if he makes it through the gauntlet, he will never get the stone. Of that, I am certain.”

“Albus, the children—”

“Leave it, Severus. I know what I am doing.” Dumbledore walked away; Snape headed in a different direction.

Harry stayed in the wall, wondering what they were talking about. The pull he’d been feeling intensified, and then Harry was gone.

———

Harry ended up in a stony, damp room. The sound of running water bounced serenely off the walls, and in the middle of the room was a glowing quartzose rock on a carved plinth. It reminded him of the Malfoy Manor’s wardstone, albeit more imposing and rustic; so he wasn’t immediately afraid. Moreover, as he got a sense of the room, Harry realized he felt comfortable.

“Uh, hello?” The rock brightened, and Harry was shown an image of himself sitting in silent meditation. “You want me to meditate? Now?” A pressure pushed his shoulders, gently insisting he sit down. “This is weird for me. I hope you get that.” The air around him seemed to dance. Was that laughter? Harry began to meditate, and after what felt like 20 minutes, he found himself sitting in a lush forest surrounded by trees of varying widths. “Oak?”

“Not Oak,” a voice said.

“Who is there?”

A lithe woman stepped out from behind a tree. Her hair was the color of the thistles Aunt Petunia made him remove from the garden, and her skin edgelessly glistened. Her eyes were hard to make out, but he could tell they were dark, like mahogany. She wore a light dress that flowed as she approached him.

The woman gracefully joined him on the grass. “I am a representation of the school, Harry.”

“You’re Hogwarts?”

She laughed. “You may call me Seren.”

“Alright, Seren. Why am I here?”

“Sadly, Harry, I am about to place grave responsibilities on your shoulders. I would not come to you if I did not think it was necessary. You are, after all, 11 years old.” Harry nodded warily. “Hogwarts is in trouble, Harry. Those tasked with protecting it have not done as good of a job as they ought to have done. Your unusual ability to walk within the walls helped me get a better sense of you.”

“The pull?” Harry asked, and Seren looked pensive.

“I didn't mean to pull — well, apart from this last time. However, your awareness of me confirms my choice.”

“What is it you need from me?”

“Do you not have questions about this room?”

“Wardroom, right?” Seren nodded. “Who normally has access to it?”

“No one.”

Harry blinked. “What about the wards?”

“There is another room that allows for maintenance if needed, but this one is the heart of Hogwarts. No one should need to access the heart. Many believe it is a myth.” Seren giggled. “You did not see a door, correct?”

“I thought maybe it was hidden.” Harry shrugged.

“Perhaps.” Seren’s eyes surveyed the forest.

“What do you need from me, Seren? I can’t stay long; I don’t want the others to worry.”

Seren waved him off. “Time moves differently here, and now that we have connected, I should be able to reach you again without pulling you here.” She looked away in consideration. “However, until you mature, I think our connection will be limited. We’ll have to see how things go. But check in, from time to time, yes? Dip into a wall, and call for me.”

She said it so casually that Harry almost laughed. “Seren, please tell me what you want.”

“Yes, yes, you like directness. Three things, all of which are of interest to you…”

———

Harry was sent back through a dungeon wall, and he was fuming. He needed to see Snape. Harry checked the map, verified again the name that had him wanting to commit murder, and then located the Snape-dot. The man was back in his office, and Harry hoped Draco wouldn’t worry too much about his absence. He didn’t know if Snape had cancelled the self-defense training session; but given that Harry had seen him with Dumbledore, it was probable.

Harry knocked on the office door more heavily than intended and was soon met with an irritated-looking Snape. “Get in, menace!” He led a silent Harry to his desk and set up wards. “What is it?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry growled. “I cannot yet tell you how I know this, but Peter Pettigrew is hiding in his rat animagus form within the walls of this castle.”

Snape sneered. “He’s supposed to be dead.” Harry nodded impatiently. “Sirius Black is innocent of that crime at least.”

“And if he’s innocent of one…” Harry let the thought hang in the air. He would not push Snape into conclusions he wasn’t ready for.

Snape gripped his wand tightly. “Where is he?”

“That’s the thing, and here is where I will need you to exert all the patience you can muster.” Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry and gestured for him to continue. “He’s masquerading as Ron Weasley’s pet rat. However, my main concern is that Dumbledore will meddle if we go about this the wrong way, and Sirius will continue to suffer. I have an idea for a distraction that should help us do this right, but I can’t tell you what that is or when it’s coming.”

“Then, why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I will get the rat. And I’m asking you to handle him however you see fit, short of killing him. When the distraction is in play, I need that rat to be brought to the attention of officials who will do the right thing and get Sirius Black a trial.”

“Is that all?” Snape asked sardonically.

Harry snorted. “Don’t be like that. I’m sure the Malfoys will help. Sirius is Narcissa’s cousin, and Lucius has a creative mind. He might even manage to make himself look pristine while making Dumbledore look like a fool. Seriously, an undetected animagus in the castle? What the fuck is the point of the wards then?”

“Language!” Snape rubbed his forehead. “But yes, I agree.”

“And sir, there’s something here that is like the book.”

“Show me!” Snape demanded.

Harry shook his head. “I can’t now. Draco will be worrying, I think. How about tomorrow? I think I can bring Draco with me, if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Is it well hidden?”

“Yes. Too well hidden.” Harry shook his head and muttered, “This fucking school.”

“Language.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, I think you’ll appreciate my word choice when you see it.”

“Alright, off with you. You’ve yet again filled me with turmoil.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, I feel topped up on turmoil tonight too. Until next time.” Harry flashed a peace sign and left.

Peter-fucking-Pettigrew! “This fucking school,” Snape said to the empty room.

———

Draco was indeed worried. Snape had to cancel the session 15 minutes in because Dumbledore needed him for something urgent. Draco rolled his eyes. The headmaster thought a lot of things were “urgent.” He smiled when Harry walked in looking a little tired but otherwise well.

“I knew you were fine, but I couldn’t stop the worry, you know?” Harry nodded supportively and yanked Draco onto the couch with him.

“I was just exploring the castle.”

“Bloody hell, you’re going to know the castle better than the professors soon,” Blaise said.

“I like to know my surroundings.” Harry shrugged.

“Sure, Harry.” Draco shook his head, his worry dissipating with Harry by his side.

———

The next day at breakfast, Peter Pettigrew was on the weasel’s shoulder, being fed bits of food.

Like a fucking king! Harry glared daggers.

“Harry!” Draco kicked him under the table. “Would you stop? We don’t want Dumbledore pulling you into his office.”

“It is a disgusting sight,” Daphne said.

“Truly. The rat has seen better days,” Pansy said.

“He’s missing a toe,” Theo said and returned to his book.

Draco’s eyes widened fractionally, and he looked at Harry. “Anything you want to share with the rest of us?”

“Oh, come off it, Draco. Harry wouldn’t take just a toe.” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for seeing me for who I am, Blaise.” Harry raised his tea in a mock-toast.

“Then stop looking at the rat like Howell looks at prey,” Draco whisper-shouted.

“Okay,” Harry said and threw an arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Let’s go for a walk after breakfast. I need to show you something.”

Draco shrugged off Harry’s arm. “Fine, but it better be good. I haven’t started the charms essay yet.”

“I will do my best to impress you, my lord.” Harry doffed his imaginary cap.

“If you weren’t mocking me, I’d almost believe you,” Draco said before taking a bite of toast.

———

Harry led Draco to the 7th floor of the castle, using the map to avoid coming across anyone else. He did his best to avoid portraits as well, at least the ones he had pegged for narcs. Draco spotted Snape on the map and tried to pull Harry in another direction.

“We’re meeting with him,” Harry whispered near Draco’s ear. Harry gestured for Draco to stay by Snape, and then he walked back and forth in front of the tapestry with the dancing trolls. A door appeared; Harry went inside and motioned for the others to follow. Once the door was shut, he spoke again. “This is the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. It will meet the needs of your request as you walk back and forth like I did. I requested to see the room holding lost things and such. Come. I know where to find what we are after.”

Draco found it hard to walk past all the appealing finds, but of course, he didn’t know what they were after. Draco heard Harry say, “That’s it, sir,” and he made his way to them.

Draco caught a glimpse of the item that held their attention. “Is that—”

“The lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw,” Harry said, nodding. “Sir, I have a way of getting this to Gringotts, but I thought you might prefer another method.”

Snape looked around the room. “I don’t believe that the headmaster knows of this place. I can see several items that would capture his interest. My concern is that if we leave this room with the diadem, he will know.”

“Okay, then,” Harry said as he pulled out a leather pouch. “I brought this just in case. Could you drop it in here, please, sir?” Snape floated the diadem over and into the bag. When he peered inside, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see it gone.

“What in Merlin’s name…?!” Draco exclaimed. “Harry, when did you get that pouch?”

Harry shrugged and held up his wrist. “When I got this cuff.” Draco and Snape exchanged a look that Harry missed. “Okay, before we go, do you want to have a look around?”

“I do, yes,” Snape said. “You two go. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The boys left and made their way back to the dungeons. Harry found an empty classroom and cast his wand to make sure they were alone; Draco cast privacy spells.

“I take it that wasn’t what you wanted to show me,” Draco drawled. Harry shook his head and pulled out the map. Once all of Hogwarts was visible — minus the Room of Requirement they noticed — Harry pointed at a dot labeled “Ronald Weasley.” Draco looked at the dot; he did not see what the big deal was until Harry tapped his finger on the dot. The dot became more focused, and Draco noticed a second name. “Fuck!”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I need your help. Tonight, I’m gonna steal the rat and get him to Snape for safekeeping. I need you to cover for me. Say I’ve gone to bed early. You can hold onto the map. That way, you’ll know where I am at all times. I’ll wall-walk from the dorms. I’ve never done it from there before, usually because someone’s in there, but it should be fine. We’ll agree to 2 exit options, one in the common room and one in the dorms, for my return. If it’s blocked, I’ll wait. If it’s unblocked, I’ll come through.”

“And if I’m near the exit, wait, and I’ll clear it. You can tap me on the shoulder.” Draco nodded confidently. “Harry, this is…”

“I know,” Harry whispered.

“I understand the predatory stare now.”

“It has taken a lot of determination to wait this long.”

Chapter Text

That night, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower with some injectable snake venom — not courtesy of Howell, much to his familiar’s dismay — and a cage that prevented animagus transformation. Harry was mostly certain that he could bring the rat into the wall with him; Howell had made the trip a few times. But the rat was also human; there could be some bumps along the way, sure... Hence the venom!

Harry planned to subdue the rat either way. But this way, if Pettigrew had to be left behind, the venom couldn't be traced back to Howell. An injection site would be cause for suspicion, but it was unlikely anyone would examine the rat that closely. Plus, the amount wasn’t lethal! The betrayer was lucky Harry needed him alive.

Once inside Gryffindor Tower, Harry made his way to the boys’ dorms. He hadn’t seen Ron in the common room, but he knew the weasel had to be close. Ron liked to be “in the know,” and he’d be where most of the Gryffindors were. He usually was, especially since schoolwork didn’t interest him much. Casual observations aside, Harry did not have a plan. He had no idea what he’d do if the first-year dorm was bustling. Nonetheless, Harry was determined to achieve his goal.

There was a strong argument to be made that this endeavour merited more preparation. He knew this, but no one seemed against relative impulsivity on this one. Harry didn’t know Ron’s “inside the tower” habits, and asking Neville was out of the question. He didn’t want Neville involved, and it was easy to justify excluding him since he was now in Hufflepuff. Moreover, Ron’s ways could’ve changed. So, the result was the same: Harry could not be sure if Ron had the rat on him or not. Regardless, Harry knew Ron was most likely in the tower, which increased the chances of the rat being close too; and this was Pettigrew’s comfort zone.

Harry liked his odds, and look at that: an empty first-year dorm. I’m coming for you, you rat-sole! Harry squatted low and stuck his hands out of a wall. He kept his wand in its holster, determined to try summoning the rat wandlessly. It could work! And if it does, no priori incanto to worry about! Harry focused on channelling the clear intention of wanting to rid the school of an unwanted pest.

“Accio Pettigrew!” Harry shouted within the wall, and the animagus sailed towards him.

Pettigrew squealed louder than Harry thought a rat could. Fucking rat! It was like he’d cast a sonorous on himself, which Harry supposed was possible. The asshole had been clever enough to betray his friends, fake his death, and hide in plain sight. Ugh! Harry did not like seeing talent in traitors. Harry flicked out the syringe tucked under his sleeve and silenced Pettigrew.

Fuck! Harry heard voices on the other side of the door as he quickly placed Pettigrew into the cage he deserved.

Harry ran to the window and nudged it open with more wandless magic. He was thankful he had not had to leave the safety of the wall. Until now, Harry hadn’t had cause to try using magic to affect something connected to the wall; he resolved to try again under less demanding circumstances. Could he have accio’d Pettigrew if his hands had been in the wall? Would the rat have hit the wall or— Focus, Harry!

The door burst open, with Ron leading the charge. “Scabbers?!”

Hideous name. Harry slowly made his way out of Gryffindor territory as the house reacted to Ron’s frantic state. He was yelling for people to help him search for the rat and blaming his dorm mates for leaving the window open. As soon as Harry heard someone say they’d call McGonagall, he took off running. The journey seemed slower, and Harry thought back to the conversation with Snape earlier in the day.

“What if you’re wrong?” Snape asked calmly.

“Pettigrew had to be the secret keeper. I know it!”

“This is not something you remember, though.”

“No, but…”

“Take a moment, and think this through, Mr. Potter.”

“I do not see any other reason for Pettigrew to hide. The finger, Snape! I know you see it. You do, don’t you?”

“I do, menace, but there is a difference between recklessness and expeditiousness. Tonight, lean towards the latter. Behave as if there is a chance you could be wrong.”

Harry inhaled deeply. “I will toss him into the cage as gently as I can and leave further investigation to the adults.”

Snape nodded. “That will have to do. I have a class soon.”

“I won’t kill him, sir, or even rough him up.” Harry met Snape’s eyes directly.

“I believe you, menace.”

Harry burst into Snape’s office, gasping for breath. A large black owl jumped back in alarm.

“Mr. Potter!”

“Sorry sir, I have to run. The damn rat made a lot of noise, and now, Ron’s in a snit. They’re getting McGonagall. Bye!”

“There he goes again, Ember.” Snape stroked the owl’s feathers. “He brought you a plaything. Let’s get him to the Malfoy dungeons.”

Harry rushed to the Slytherin dorms. Thankfully, his room was empty, and the exit wasn’t blocked. He kicked off his shoes and jumped into bed. Soon after, the door opened, and Harry tensed.

“It’s just me.” Draco observed Harry’s flushed state. “Let me freshen you up.” The blond waved his wand, and Harry was no longer sweaty.

“Thanks.” Harry ran a hand through his hair and yawned.

“How’d it go?”

“Well. Hard. Tired.”

“I doubt you’ll get to sleep long, but it’ll help sell it if they have to wake you up.”

Harry started to doze. “Thanks, Dray.”

Forty minutes later, Draco was tracking McGonagall on the Marauders’ Map while pretending to study. She’d just left the headmaster’s office with Snape, who Draco had watched floo in only to immediately floo out again. This time, to the headmaster’s office.

To demand that Snape arrive at his office via floo, Draco thought the headmaster must be supremely upset. As his professors made their way to the dungeons, the headmaster remained in his office with Ron. After Snape entered the common room, Blaise exited. Draco presumed he’d been tasked with collecting Harry and was proven right.

Draco gently woke Harry. “Snape’s here to see you. He’s waiting in the common room.”

Harry blinked as Draco handed him his glasses. He made a show of pulling his boots over his pajama bottoms and put on his warmest cloak. Snape simply said that the headmaster needed to see him and led him into the hall. McGonagall pursed her lips when she saw Harry and glared at Severus.

“Don’t look at me like that. I told him Mr. Potter wasn’t feeling well. I offered the foolish boy a pepperup, but he said he’d like to try getting an early night first.”

“Stubborn like his parents, I see,” McGonagall said, and Snape hummed. Harry wobbled a bit, and Snape grabbed a fistful of his cloak to stabilize him. “This is absurd. Albus is taking things too far. It’s a rat. We’re lucky someone’s cat hadn’t eaten him yet.”

Once inside the headmaster’s office, Snape put Harry in a chair and set up the usual recording station. Dumbledore began questioning the boy immediately afterwards.

“Mr. Potter, where have you been this evening?”

“He was in bed, Albus,” McGonagall said.

“I’d like him to answer, please, Minerva. Mr. Potter?”

“Bed.” Harry slumped to the side.

“You took Scabbers! Admit it!” Ron shouted.

“Mr. Weasley, enough,” McGonagall said.

Harry turned to face her. “Who?”

“My rat! I saw you giving him the stink eye at breakfast.”

“You were feeding a rat at the table. It was gross,” Harry said slowly.

“Mr. Potter, you have your snake at the table,” Dumbledore said.

Harry shrugged. “I like snakes.”

“Albus, just how do you propose Mr. Potter snuck into the Gryffindor dorms, procured the rat, and fled without anyone noticing him?”

Dumbledore looked pointedly at Harry, who did not react. “Mr. Weasley, please return to the tower. I will continue to question Mr. Potter.” Ron glowered at Harry before storming out. “Mr. Potter, I know about the cloak.”

“Cloak?” Harry asked confusedly.

“The one that the goblin confiscated from my office.”

“Madam Medallion,” Harry said coldly.

Dumbledore almost looked pleased. “Not so tired, suddenly?”

“Oh, I’m exhausted, but I don’t like the way you referred to her,” Harry said icily.

“She is a goblin.”

“Yes, and proud of it. So, for you to say it in that tone is unwelcome.” Something crashed to the floor, and McGonagall rushed over to pick it up. A glint of metal caught Harry’s eye. “What is that?”

“The sword of Gryffindor,” McGonagall said reverently.

“Do not change the subject, Mr. Potter. Your cloak,” Dumbledore said sharply.

“I have no idea what you are trying to convey.” Harry shook his head and closed his eyes.

“Mr. Potter!” Harry’s eyes jerked open, and he focused on the desk in front of him. “The invisibility cloak. It was your father’s, and I had it in this office. It was already wrapped as my Christmas present to you.” McGonagall gasped, and Snape frowned.

“You gave me something that was already mine?” Harry screwed up his face. Then, he shook his head. “I have no idea what an invisible cloak is. I did not get a gift from you, and I would not expect a gift from you. You’re the headmaster.” Harry shuddered.

“Invisibility!” Dumbledore said. “Did that goblin keep it?” Again, the sword fell.

“Albus! Have a little sense. The sword is goblin-made. Perhaps it takes issue with your tone of voice.” McGonagall walked over to pick up the sword again. When she returned, Dumbledore was scrutinizing Harry’s slumped form. “Did it occur to you, Albus, that his guardian thought it unsuitable for an 11-year-old to have an invisibility cloak?”

“Has the audit concluded, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked collectedly. Harry shrugged. “I expect a verbal response, Mr. Potter.”

“I don’t know!”

“Do not take that tone with me, young man!” Dumbledore shouted in return.

“Albus!” McGonagall rebuked.

“I’m knackered. I was woken up, brought here to discuss Scabies—”

“Scabbers, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore corrected.

Harry sighed and stood shakily. “Scabbers, then. It’s a rat.” He took a step and swayed; McGonagall steadied him.

“I have not dismissed you, Mr. Potter.”

“I’m too tired for this, Headmaster.”

“I need to see your wand history.”

“Albus—”

“Do not interfere, Minerva.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Priori incantato.”

The spell history revealed what McGonagall would have expected from any first-year’s wand. When the boy tottered, she braced him. “Steady, Mr. Potter. Severus, do you think you could carry him? Or shall I conjure a stretcher?”

“I’ll carry him.” Snape pocketed the recording orb and lifted the boy easily. Harry dropped into his form and passed out.

“Honestly, Albus, you should be ashamed of yourself!” McGonagall whisper-shouted as the three of them left the headmaster’s office. “I’ll follow you down, Severus.” Once in the hallway, she asked, “Shall we take him to Poppy?”

“No. If he were to wake in the infirmary, it’d likely scare him. Best to honor his wishes and let him sleep. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into him, Severus.” McGonagall’s anger was laced with dismay. “Set aside how invested he is in how well Mr. Weasley is getting on in school for a moment. He seems to see Mr. Potter as some sort of threat, an all-powerful one at that. If he views him as such now, what will happen next year and the year after that?”

Snape listened to McGonagall’s concerns until they reached the Slytherin common room door. Then, McGonagall bid Snape goodnight and left him to carry Harry to bed. The sight of him carrying a first-year drew attention, but they’d seen it before. The students were much more concerned with what caused Harry to be dragged out of bed in the first place.

Draco met them in the hall and held the door open for Snape. Harry’s bed was already prepared to welcome him, so Snape easily laid the boy on his bed. Harry sleepily kicked off his shoes and made a half-hearted attempt to remove his cloak. It wasn’t working, and Snape gently smacked his hand away to do it himself. The boy mumbled “thanks” as Snape helped him sort his covers and remove his glasses.

Then the professor watched as the goblin statue jumped from the nightstand and made its way onto Harry’s pillow. It sat down cross-legged and began to whittle. Snape looked at Draco, who just shrugged. When Snape spotted Howell moving up the bed, he stepped back and noticed Midha staring at the boy.

“I see all of Mr. Potter’s protectors are on duty tonight.”

Draco chuckled softly. “Not all, but I think Serafina will make an appearance tonight.”

“Does it ever bother you that your familiar is so taken with Mr. Potter? I have been meaning to ask.”

“No. Others have asked me too, but my answer is always the same. I think that if it bothered me, she would stop.”

“And what news of your owl?”

Draco smiled and located a photo. “I should be able to see her during the spring break, and I think she’ll spend part of the summer with me too.”

“Do you miss having a delivery owl?”

“No. She’s mine.” Draco tapped the picture. “Midha helps with letters if I ask nicely. Don’t you, girl?” Midha puffed up proudly.

“I must go, Draco, but I’ll be back in the morning to check on Mr. Potter. If he’s desperate for food before I arrive, you may call Mick.”

Draco nodded in acknowledgment. “Sir, why is Headmaster Dumbledore intent on pulling Harry into his office?”

“I don’t know, Draco, but it is increasingly unsettling.” Snape squeezed Draco’s shoulder reassuringly and left. Not 10 minutes later, Theo and Blaise walked in. Draco held up a hand and cast silencing charms around Harry’s bed. One-way only, so they could hear Harry's call if needed.

“What happened?” Blaise asked.

“I’m not sure. Something about Weasel’s rat,” Draco said uncertainly. “Snape seemed done with the topic. So, I’m thinking the meeting was annoying.”

Blaise snorted. “That’s just our head of house! Come to the common room, Draco. Harry’s fine.”

Draco shook his head. “No. He didn’t wake properly when Snape brought him in. I don’t want him to wake up with no one in the room.”

“Draco,” Blaise said gently, “look.” Blaise gestured to those Snape had called Harry’s protectors. “He’ll be fine. Come on. He’d want you to enjoy your evening.” Draco looked doubtful, but Serafina rushed in, leapt onto Harry’s bed, and gazed at him.

“Okay, fine!” Draco threw up his arms.

“Good boy!” Blaise petted Draco’s head.

The blond shoved him light-heartedly. “Ass!”

The three headed out, and Serafina draped herself over Harry’s body. The boy slept on, unconcerned with the headmaster, who muttered angrily in his tower. Harry dreamt of metals and gems, broken oaths, and vengeance promised.

———

Harry awoke famished at around 8 am to the sight of Draco furiously writing. He was sitting on Harry’s bed with his back against one of the lower posts, but he stopped when he felt Harry’s eyes on him. Draco waved his wand, and sounds Harry didn’t even realize were missing returned.

“Good, you’re awake. Snape will probably be back soon. He came earlier, but you were out, out. He scanned your vitals and made sure you were recovering well, and he left you 2 potions. This one is a core supporter, and this one is a pepperup. But he’d like you to eat first, just in case.”

Harry rasped, “Just in case what?”

“Oh, both could irritate your stomach if you’ve gone a long time without eating,” Draco said. “Mick?” The house elf popped in with soup and bread. “Soup for breakfast?”

“It smells amazing. Thanks, Mick,” Harry said, and Mick gave Draco a “See!” look before popping away. “Don’t doubt Mick, mate. He’s not above ‘cutting a bitch,’ as Pansy would say. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Mick wouldn’t hurt me,” Draco said unconvincingly.

“Sure,” Harry said exaggeratedly.

Snape entered as Harry was finishing his meal. “How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?”

“He’s just about to take his potions, sir,” Draco said.

Harry knocked them back in the advised order and shivered. “That pepper one has a kick to it, huh?” Draco snorted.

“Indeed, Mr. Potter. Now, even if you feel well enough to attend meals in the Great Hall, I advise against it. Mr. Weasley is in rare form, and your absence makes his behaviour all the more astonishing. So, rest all day if you need it, and find your fun in the common room if you don’t. The only drawback is that you will be expected to see Madam Pomfrey if you are not well enough by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. I’m pretty sure I need it, though.”

Snape nodded. “After yesterday’s summons, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall will not allow the headmaster to disturb you today. I think she’d sooner report him to the ministry for harassing a student than allow him to see you.”

Harry hummed. “He’s such an asshole.” Draco snorted.

“Language, Mr. Potter,” Snape said perfunctorily.

“The way he talks about goblins. Was he always like that?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t think so, but seen in a prudential light, his previous comments take on new meaning. The goblins would know best, I think,” Snape said. “Rest, Mr. Potter. Save vengeful thoughts for when you are recovered.”

Harry chortled as Snape made for the door. “See, Draco, he’s hilarious.”

“Sure, Harry,” Draco drawled, and Snape smirked. He, of course, did not allow anyone to see it.

———

Harry dozed off and on all day. And each time he ate, he ingested a lot. “Why am I so hungry?”

“Harry.”

Harry looked at Draco warily. “Why does your voice suggest something unpleasant?”

“I think you need chocolate.”

“Come on, Draco,” Harry whined. “Please, not chocolate.”

Draco snorted. “Relax, I have savory chocolate options now.” The blond dug around in his trunk and pulled out what looked like a lunch box. He brought it over to Harry’s bed and introduced the options. “These are chili chocolate crisps, and these are salted chocolate-covered cashews. Oh! This is a mole sauce that we could ask Mick to use on some chicken. I’m most excited about these: they’re chocolate-covered coffee beans. That might be too much for today.” Draco continued rifling through his box.

Harry smiled warmly. Draco is the best.

The next day, Harry emerged from his bed feeling ravenous but otherwise well. The Slytherins had all been updated and were furious. They didn’t care if he had taken the rat or not. (Harry was oddly touched that they believed him capable despite how sleepy he’d seemed.) The Slytherins cared about two things: Dumbledore’s immediate assumption that a snake had done something — especially considering how far down they were within the castle — and the lack of evidence.

“Without evidence, he has nothing!” Flint shouted angrily.

Many of the Slytherins had already written to their parents about “the inequity.” The rest of the school was another matter. Responses varied. Some students very simply thought, “Harry has a snake. It must have eaten the rat.” Others considered it “convenient” that he’d had an alibi. They weren’t wrong; so Harry didn’t feel the need to dissimulate. Any attempt at deception would likely come across as insincere. Plus, there were plenty of students who either didn’t care or were much more interested in the anticipatory drama. And the latter were not disappointed.

As soon as Harry entered the Great Hall, Ron jumped out of his seat. “You!”

“Ron!” The Weasley twins were up too.

“Stop,” Fred said. “Scabbers was old, Ron.”

“Yeah, anything could’ve happened,” George added.

“No, it was him! I know it! He gave Scabbers the evil eye that same day!” Ron persisted.

Theo attempted to offer some insight (or goad). “There are amulets to protect—”

“Shut it, snake!”

“Alright.” Harry held up a hand. “Yes, I looked at your rat with distaste. That’s because I found it disgusting that you were feeding him at the table. I already told you this when you got the headmaster to pull me into his office. I was asleep, you pillock. Did you not notice the pajamas?”

“I know it was you!” Ron lunged, and Draco used Ron’s momentum to throw him to the ground.

“Enough!” McGonagall shouted. “Mr. Weasley, this matter has been discussed sufficiently. There is no proof that your rat is anything other than missing.”

“Noises were heard!” Ron shouted from his place on the floor.

“Yes, from the other side of a closed door. Rats make noises. Now, please rise and return to your table. Everyone, get back to your breakfasts.”

The students dispersed, and as the Slytherins walked to their table, Pansy decided to stir the cauldron in her distinctive way.

“Do you think Weasley’s rat is really missing? Or is this a bid for attention?”

“He does come from a large family,” Theo contributed.

“True. It’s easy to feel overlooked in such circumstances,” Daphne added.

Draco smirked at Harry: the rumor mill would likely change directions by lunchtime. Harry wondered if he should feel bad about how Pettigrew’s disappearance was affecting Ron. He genuinely missed his pet, but Harry concluded that he didn’t feel even the slightest bit bad. There was no separating the “pet” from Pettigrew. And it was not right for a strange adult to be in that private space, much less one so well concealed.

———

Harry and Draco ended up staying at the castle during the spring break. Harry needed to prepare for the third responsibility assigned by Seren, and Draco was kind enough to help. He didn’t know the specifics of what Harry was planning, but he was still involved in the training. Harry needed to improve his stamina within the walls and travel time. To do this, Harry entered the walls more often and at different times of the day. They’d monitor the time spent, distance travelled, and effects thereafter. Draco acted as the lookout and helped find routes that offered enough blind spots to believably say they were together, where they said they were together.

The boys devised a way to communicate when Harry was in the wall. Inspired by their linked journals, they asked Snape for advice connecting two items. They were honest about the training, and Snape knew there was a goal they did not plan to reveal. Nevertheless, the professor helped. The result was 2 wire-thin rings. They were easy to overlook, but the designs were slightly different just in case.

Harry’s ring, which he wore on his pinky, looked like a snake’s profile. Draco’s was shaped like a crown, and he wore it on his middle finger. They were deliberately unassuming and jokey, meant to look like silly things friends exchanged on a whim — trinkets professors dismissed as youthful sentimentality.

To check in and see if everything was fine, one tap gave off a gentle warmth. Two taps were meant to put the other on alert. Three taps meant big trouble: get help. It wasn’t a perfect system. So, they had to experiment with that too. They practiced tapping, exchanging notes on the duration and corresponding temperature level, and they discussed what scenarios would constitute an emergency. Much like with self-defense, the goal was to prevent delays when response time mattered.

Howell was also involved in the training. Draco insisted that if something went wrong, Howell could move closer to the wall and narrow down Harry’s actual location. This ultimately relied on Harry’s ability to at least get a hand out of the wall so that he could be pulled out. They hoped that if Harry was weak enough, Draco could get him pulled out of the wall. This couldn’t be tested because when Harry was fine, there was no yanking him from the wall. Harry had to exit willingly, but he also observed that as he grew tired, he felt a type of “pushing.” Draco tried to understand, but mostly, he supported, planned, and hoped. Above all else, Draco hoped Harry was never in such an emergency.

They had not dared to test Harry’s ability to move through the walls with a person. They would not even test a familiar that wasn’t Harry’s. Howell was much more in sync with Harry’s magic. The animagus transport was hardly enlightening, especially with how tired Harry was afterwards. It was possible that moving through the Gryffindor wards was the main drain on his energy since snakes were not exactly welcome there. Only more experience would clarify things, and Harry was not inclined to violate house boundaries without a good reason.

Harry knew what he was after: the Mirror of Erised and the Philosopher’s Stone. Seren said that if he had to choose, it was more important to get the stone out of the school. However, there was something about her tone of voice that made him think both needed to go. Madam Medallion had confirmed the existence of the invisibility cloak and agreed to let him have it so long as he exercised extreme caution. The cloak’s “gift wrapping” had contained a subtle compulsion for him to explore the castle.

“He wanted this cloak in your possession, Harry. And he wanted you to explore the castle. I’m concerned you are walking into a trap, even if via a different route,” Madam Medallion had written.

Harry did his best to assure her that his plans minimized clues of his involvement. He might have been more convincing if he’d told her what he was up to. Like Draco, Madam Medallion was helping with the preparation but knew very little. Harry could not pinpoint why he was being secretive with her. Seren had not secured confidentiality. On the contrary, she was leaving him to it. He didn’t owe her, or Hogwarts, anything, but Harry still felt drawn to this course of action. And as always, Madam Medallion allowed Harry his independence. Even so, he did tell her that at least one invaluable item would soon arrive at Gringotts. After that, they could decide on further action.

“Hey Harry,” Fred said. Draco startled, and Harry was pulled from his thoughts.

“Baby dragon,” George chirped. Draco narrowed his eyes, and the twins laughed.

“So,” they said together.

Harry looked at them impassively. “So?”

“We can tell you’re up to something,” Fred said.

“Don’t worry. I think we’re the only ones who noticed,” George said.

“We’ve got the nose,” the twins said together.

“We think we can help,” George said.

Draco looked at Harry, who sighed resignedly. “Step into my office, boys.” Harry guided them to an abandoned classroom. Draco automatically put up privacy wards, and Harry made sure they were alone. For thoroughness, Draco pulled out the Marauders’ Map. After he nodded to Harry, Harry continued. “What are you offering?”

“Two things,” they said.

“One, goodies.” Fred pulled out a bag. “Inside you’ll find the latest from our experimentation. These mark your path but are only visible to you after you eat this.” Fred playfully shook the linked “goody.”

“And now, these!” George held up a small white ball. It reminded Harry of bubblegum from a coin machine. “These beauties release a mild confundus charm. Throw them down near the person you want to discombobulate, and a puff of smoke will cloud their path.”

“The evidence disappears, but they’ll remember seeing smoke,” Fred added.

“What do you want in exchange?” Draco eyed them warily.

The twins shrugged. “Feedback.”

“You see, we’re trying to find a balance between useful and prankish,” Fred said.

“Without entering into the ‘for nefarious purposes’ territory,” George said. “We’re not convinced these are suitable for the masses.”

“We figured two troublemakers like you were perfect candidates to try them,” Fred said cheerfully.

“You said ‘two things,’” Harry said. Draco knitted his brow, having thought each “goody” had counted.

“Ah, that,” George said. He walked over to Fred and draped an arm around him.

“Snakes!” they said unisonally before excitedly telling them about the snake carvings around the castle.

“We thought the first one was just an etching, you know?” Fred said.

George nodded. “The second was decoration.”

“The third was symbolic,” they said together.

“So, we went looking, and they’re everywhere!” George said.

“Why tell Harry?” Draco asked mistrustfully.

The twins looked at each other before responding. “He’s a snake guy!”

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Harry, who looked to be considering this bit of information. “Alright, I’ll let you know how the products work out, and I’ll keep an eye out for the snakes.”

“No need! Look!” Fred pulled out a list of places they’d seen the curious snakes.

“You seriously think this means something?” Draco asked disbelievingly, and the twins nodded. They tapped their nose. “Yes, the nose.” Draco shook his head and looked at the Marauders’ Map. “We better get going.” Filch was too close for Draco’s comfort.

Harry grabbed the bag of goodies and pocketed the list. “I am not telling you what we’re up to.”

“We know,” the twins said.

“Good men.” Harry nodded.

“We know!” The twins grinned broadly, and Draco began to wonder.

———

“Harry?” Draco asked tentatively when they were back in the dorms. Harry looked up. “Did you invest in the twins?” Harry smiled brightly. “I knew they didn’t just give you the map!”

“Oh, that’s not why they gave me the map, but it did happen the same day. So, maybe a little bit?” Harry shrugged.

“Father is going to lose his mind when he finds out.” Draco shook his head.

Harry laughed. “Hey! I stand by my decision, and the contract is solid. We either succeed together, or it goes nowhere. I’ll have lost some money, but that’s about it.”

“But it’s a secret, right?” Draco asked carefully.

“Yes, but only because of meddlesome people like Dumbledore and the twins’ mother,” Harry said plainly. “Feel free to tell your father.”

“No way! You tell him, and then I’ll complain,” Draco said, and Harry laughed. “Do you think you’ll tell them you’re a parselmouth?”

“Eventually… I guess there was never a time they needed to know, but if they already think of me when seeing a snake motif…”

“They might not be all that shocked,” Draco concluded, and Harry nodded. “I think we should take Snape when we check out the snake carvings.”

“I agree,” Harry said as he looked at the list the twins provided.

———

The boys were standing in front of Snape’s desk awaiting the professor’s verdict on the mysterious snakes throughout the castle.

“I think I’ve seen this one.” Snape tapped the list and stood up. “I believe there’s a snake emblem in my potions closet as well. Come.” Snape led them to the storage room and squatted down to move a chest. Then, he pointed to a doorstop. “Move closer, and you’ll see what I mean.”

Harry crawled closer and saw a rudimentarily carved snake. He hissed at the snake, and they heard a click. Harry turned towards where the sound had come from, the center of the closet, where Snape was already lifting a rug. There was a handle and a clear outline of a door.

“Sir?”

“No, it was not there before. Move behind me.” Snape brandished his wand and lifted the door. As soon as he did, torches alighted, and they saw a descending staircase.

“Where could it possibly go?” Draco whispered.

Snape walked down cautiously, and the boys followed a couple of steps behind with their wands also in hand. After a while, it became clear that the passage was just that, and they’d have to follow it the entire way to know where it led.

“Argh,” Snape grumbled. “I have to turn back. I believe the headmaster has entered the dungeons.”

“We’ll stay,” Harry said, and Draco nodded.

Snape nodded reluctantly. “When it’s safe to come through, I’ll leave the door wide open.” Without another word, the professor hurried back.

“Dray, look for other snakes, okay?”

“I already was, but I haven’t seen any. They could be lower, I guess.” They walked slowly for another 30 minutes before they came to a door. “Does that one have a snake?”

“No.” Harry pulled the door gently open. He peeked out and saw nothing but trees. “I’m looking at a forest.”

“The Forbidden Forest?”

“I want to say yes, but I have no idea. We better turn back. I don’t want us to inadvertently go beyond the wards and raise the alarm,” Harry said sardonically.

Draco snorted. “Let’s hope we haven’t already. What if we are deep enough to have left the grounds?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “I didn’t think of that…”

“I was kidding.” Draco cocked his head.

“I know, but let’s hurry back anyway.” Harry closed the door firmly, and together, they rushed back. They were in luck because the door was wide open. Still, they exited quietly.

“It’s just me,” Snape said. “The headmaster recently left.”

“He didn’t think we’d left the grounds, did he?” Draco asked, and Snape lifted an eyebrow. “The door at the end of the corridor leads to a forest.”

Snape nodded in understanding. “He wanted to talk to me about your exploration of the castle. He remains baffled by your decision to remain over break. I told him that Mr. Potter did not secure permission to leave the castle and that you, Draco, decided to keep him company. Since we’ve discussed the matter before, I added to the story.” Snape smirked, and Harry braced himself. “I told him that the two of you had the precipitous idea to map out the castle for future Slytherins.” Harry groaned. “Indeed, Mr. Potter. The headmaster is now very interested in the outcome. Please have a sample for me by the end of the year.”

“We knew he’d notice, but come on! Kids explore!”

Draco patted Harry’s shoulder. “He’s fixated on you. We knew this. But if Slytherin creates a map for all, that’s good PR.”

Harry perked up. “A house project?”

“Yes, Harry, a house project.”

“Sir” — Harry looked at Snape determinedly — “you will have an excellent first draft by the end of the year. Draco, we’ll have to talk to your father. He must have someone he trusts to secure publishing rights… Oh! The funds could benefit the house.”

“Like more exercise equipment?!” Draco asked, and Harry nodded.

“This is a great idea, sir. We better get going—”

“Hold on, tell me about this forest, and when shall we explore the next carving? I don’t want you two going alone.”

———

It turned out that each snake that was more than a snake opened up into a corridor. They couldn’t explore them freely because they couldn’t know for sure where they’d open up at the other end. Snape eventually gave them the okay — along with many warnings — to explore the passages on their own. This allowed the boys to incorporate the Marauders’ Map, which neither boy had wanted to tell Snape about.

Draco thought Snape might confiscate it; though Harry agreed, he was more concerned that the professor would use the map to track Quirrell. Snape had enough on; the DADA professor was a problem but not much of one. Harry believed it was best to leave everyone to their own assignments.

The boys chose their exits carefully, and with exposure, the Marauders’ Map settled. It seemed self-updating, like it needed to get to know “the other side” before confidently revealing the usual area beyond the hidden corridors. However, the map would not reveal the snake passages if Harry had not been the one to activate the map; furthermore, it only showed the ones he’d travelled.

The passages appeared to traverse the entire castle, which would be especially helpful for Harry’s mirror and stone-heist purposes. It was easier to conserve energy with wall-walking breaks.

———

Harry chose to strike during the week of exams. By then, Harry’s and Draco’s wanderings were largely ignored. And students were more self-involved, with their concerns on how they wanted to end the year. Students were also more likely to stick with the standard routes, like from their common room to the library. The studious became more intense, and crammers were on overdrive. It was perfect, but, on the day, Draco worried.

He asked one last time, “Are you sure you want to do this today?”

“Yes, Dray. It’s time.” Harry reached for Draco’s hand and squeezed. “We’ve got this.” Then, the boys started on their path and engaged in a prepared conversation. Once past one of the most nosy portraits, Draco switched on his voice recorder and hit play. Their conversation would artificially continue, within the serviceable blind spot, while Harry made his way to the room that held the mirror. Harry nodded to Draco, offering a reassuring smile, and sunk into the wall.

Once en route, he tapped his ring to let Draco know he was fine. He raced to the nearest snake corridor and used it to reach the third floor. Harry then re-entered the walls, bypassing the three-headed dog and the obstacle course entirely. He knew they were there, but he had another entry point. He stepped into the targeted room from a side wall and walked up to the mirror.

“So, you’re the one causing all the fuss, huh?” Harry saw himself sitting in the Malfoy Manor family room. Others were there too. He didn’t recognize everyone, but there was no time to study the image. “Nice one, but I have to get you out of here.” Harry began to move the mirror, and his reflection turned to look at him more directly. His mirror image walked towards him, stopping when he got to the surface, and inspected Harry’s hand placement. “Do you not approve?”

Harry redoubled his efforts. Mirror-Harry tapped the glass and showed him what he supposed was the stone. Harry gave him a speculative look, and then mirror-Harry put the stone in his pocket. At the same time, Harry felt a weight in his pocket. “Neat trick, but I have to go.”

Mirror-Harry rolled his eyes, waved him away, and rejoined the others. Harry wanted to call him a smug bastard, but he looked like him, and that was just weird. Harry pushed the mirror into the wall, feeling a lot of resistance.

“Hang in there. I’ll get you to a corridor as fast as I can.” Harry pushed more intently, and his ring heated up. “That’s medium. Work with me here. I’ll get you somewhere safe, but we have to press on!”

Harry got to the nearest snake corridor and threw his invisibility cloak over it. Then, he used one of the Weasley goodies to mark the passage as he raced back to Draco. Harry pushed out of the wall without ceremony, and Howell squeezed his arm.

“Shit, sorry. I forgot you were there,” Harry whispered. Howell was not impressed.

“Harry,” Draco said softly and grabbed his arm. He let the tape play for a minute longer, and then Harry joined in the conversation.

“I see your point, Draco. I just don’t want them feeling overwhelmed.”

“It’s better to have too much information than not enough,” Draco huffed.

“You’re right, you’re right. Come on, let’s go get the others and something to eat.”

Once in the dorms, Harry asked for a moment of privacy and removed his cloak. Delicately, he tipped the stone into the leather pouch that would send it to Gringotts. He refused to touch it with his hands. He didn’t fully understand what it was, why it was in the school, or why mirror-Harry just gave it to him. And for all he knew, Dumbledore put a compulsion on it too. Shit! He’d touched the mirror with bare hands. I’ll worry about that later…

Harry pulled out his journal and quickly let Madam Medallion know that the package was “on its way.” He then explained that there was one item left, and he needed confirmation that the pouch could safely be expanded. “It’s big, fragile, and possibly stubborn,” Harry wrote, and then he headed out the door to meet his friends.

After the meal, Harry read Madam Medallion’s reply. “Expansion is fine, but you were right to send the first on its own. ‘Fragile’ should not be a problem. ‘Stubborn’ is perplexing. Given your concern, we’ll place extra wards. The package you sent is most unexpected, Harry. We will be discussing this further when we next meet.”

Harry wrote, “I’m not sure what it is exactly, but it is my understanding that it should not be in the school. The next package is odd. At first glance, it seems more disconcerting than the first. I will get it to you as soon as possible, though not today.”

The next day, Harry and Draco repeated their process on a different floor with a different pre-recorded conversation. This time, Harry expanded his pouch and sent the Mirror of Erised to Gringotts. He wanted to send the cloak back to avoid having incriminating evidence on him. But if sending the stone alone was wise, Harry figured it was best to send the mirror alone too. He folded the cloak, and when he returned to meet Draco, Harry tucked the cloak into the blond’s robes.

“Harry?”

“They’re less likely to search you or your things,” Harry said. Draco nodded, and they resumed their trajectory.

They continued “mapping” the halls up until the last day of exams. The last thing they wanted was to stop too soon and have that used against them as being “suspicious.” They had a very good draft of the Hogwarts map to offer Snape, and their house was eager to learn how Dumbledore would react to the news that he couldn’t get it for free.

Professor Quirrell disappeared the day after exams. A rattled Dumbledore hastened to the third floor. He expected to find the stone still secure. Instead, the mirror was missing. The obstacle course had visibly been tampered with, and it disturbed the headmaster that he did not know when it might have occurred. The protections on the mirror should have alerted him to any danger, alteration, or removal from the school. Since he’d received no warning, Dumbledore chose to conclude that the mirror must still be on the castle grounds. And so, the headmaster made the knee-jerk decision to lock down the school.

Chapter Text

“Albus, you cannot be serious! There will be an uproar,” McGonagall said.

“Minerva, the mirror and the stone are missing. I believe they are still here. Whoever took the mirror is unlikely to have accessed the stone.”

“‘Unlikely,’” McGonagall scoffed.

“Minerva—”

“Albus, the students should not have to pay the price. We can let them leave—“

“No one shall leave the castle until everywhere has been searched.”

“The castle?! Are you…” McGonagall shook her head energetically. “You cannot search everywhere, Albus. The students—”

“Minerva, I understand your concerns, but locating the stone is of the highest importance. The peace of the entire magical community depends on it.”

“Then it should have never been at Hogwarts!”

———

“Harry?” Draco said anxiously.

Harry turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“McGonagall and Dumbledore are leaving the headmaster’s office… I am getting a bad feeling about this…” Draco jumped off his bed, handed Harry the map, and dug out the invisibility cloak from his trunk. “Here. Send it to Gringotts now. Hide what you cannot send. I know you have more secrets. Use them.”

Draco left Harry alone to “tidy” while he went to inform the others of his suspicions. “Easy. It’s not forever,” Harry soothed Oak as he placed the goblin statue in his trunk and listened to Draco commanding the house. Sonorus. Dray’s not fucking around.

“Everyone! Pay attention and do not ask questions. Hide everything you would not risk the headmaster finding. Do not be too thorough. This is happening now. Go!”

“Draco?” Hollis approached nervously. “The training rooms.”

“Shit. Harry!” Harry promptly appeared. “The training rooms.”

“Shit! Twyla?!” The house elf popped in looking agitated. “Are you okay?”

Twyla shook her head. “The headmaster locked down the school. It feels wrong. Did you need something?”

“Can you please hide the training rooms? We have a bad feeling about this too.” She nodded in agreement and called for reinforcements. Twyla and her two helpers decided it was best to remove most of the equipment and make it look abandoned long ago. Then, they sealed it off, leaving the requested weights out.

“Harry, the map?” Draco asked quietly.

“I sent it to Gringotts. I trust my storage areas, but that map is too valuable to risk.”

Draco nodded. “And the pouch?”

Harry grinned. “I put Howell in there.”

Draco laughed but quickly sobered. “It’s weird to go into this blind.”

“Hey, we’re not blind. Thanks to you. You’re getting really good at reading dot vibes,” Harry said, and Draco shoved him lightly.

The Slytherins were just settling down, forcing themselves into a state of calm and suppressing all questions, when the door to the common room opened. In walked Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Snape’s hard expression said it all, and a good number of the Slytherins sneered.

The headmaster pushed ahead with false pleasantness. “Greetings, everyone, it has come to our attention that something significant has been moved from its protected location, and we have begun the arduous recovery process.”

“And you just so happened to think that Slytherin was the best place to start?” Marcus asked roughly.

“We will be searching all the houses, Mr. Flint. In point of fact, Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Vector are currently searching the Hufflepuff House.”

“It is most inappropriate to search private spaces, Headmaster,” Adrian said. “Have the more public areas already been searched?”

“The headmaster chose to commence with the houses, Mr. Pucey,” McGonagall offered sympathetically.

“Sir?” Gemma turned to Snape. “This isn’t right.”

“I agree, Ms. Fawley.” Dumbledore made a face at Snape, who only continued. “However, the headmaster has assured me that only the missing items will be confiscated if discovered. Any other curiosity will be left behind and will not be held against you.”

Marcus snorted. “But he’ll remember and judge us for it later, I bet.”

“Mr. Flint!” Dumbledore exclaimed.

“Mr. Dumbledore,” Marcus retorted.

“You’re in Slytherin territory, Albus,” McGonagall scolded. “Perhaps you should behave as if you are the guest.”

Dumbledore nodded reluctantly. “Let us begin.”

On the whole, the Slytherins cleverly allowed the professors to discover liquor, sexual paraphernalia, and questionable academic material. The youngest snakes could not avoid suspiciously clean spaces so easily, but still, it helped. Weights were well placed, and “mess” was arranged. For his part, Harry “risked” his pouch being found. He’d been tempted to keep it on him, but he assumed the headmaster would expect a level of relaxedness within his house. It had been difficult to leave his trunk unlocked, but he’d taken precautions.

The house elves had been right to hide the rooms so thoroughly because the headmaster easily revealed them for closer examination. Just as Dumbledore was about to cover them up again, Snape stopped him.

“Leave them unconcealed, Headmaster. My snakes could benefit from extra space.”

Dumbledore seemed unsure but had no reason to deny it. So, he agreed magnanimously, as if he were granting them a boon. Such a prick. Harry was certain that others were thinking along the same lines.

As Dumbledore exited the Slytherin common room, several items fell from his robes, including one of Harry’s headscarves.

“Where did all that come from?” Dumbledore looked up and around himself.

“We did say, Albus, that we would not confiscate anything. Severus and I wanted to make sure our instincts didn’t get the better of us.”

Howell slithered out of the pile, and Harry saw red. “You tried to take my familiar?!” He stepped closer to the pile, and Howell moved up his leg. “And this is my scarf! How exactly is this scarf ‘contraband’?”

“Mr. Potter, my mind is on important matters. I distractedly slipped items into my pocket, I think.”

“So, you’re a kleptomaniac?”

“Mr. Potter!”

“Don’t ‘Mr. Potter’ me! You’re a thief! You might have had a nice story to spin when my belongings were found in your office. But today, there’s no excuse. I suggest you locate and return whatever else may belong to me or anyone else. I doubt you’ll want us to find them.”

“Mr. Potter, I do not appreciate your insinuation—”

“That was not an insinuation, Headmaster.” Theo stepped forward and collected his book.

“It’s as Mistress McGonagall said. You are in our house, and you’ve been an impertinent guest,” Cassius said. There were many murmurs of agreement.

“Albus, it’s time to leave.” McGonagall tugged at his sleeve. “Severus, please meet us at Gryffindor Tower.”

When the common room door closed, Snape put a finger to his lips and walked around the room waving his wand. Three spots lit up, and Snape inactivated whatever they were.

“Give me a moment.” Snape continued walking around the house. When he returned, he said, “That took longer than I would have liked. I believe I located them all. Those who know what I did, please conduct another search. Be thorough. I’ll return as soon as I can. Mr. Potter, a word?”

Harry nodded and exited with Snape. “Over here, sir.” Harry led Snape to a shadowy part of the wall and hissed. As they stepped into the passage, he said, “I’ll take you to the seventh floor. That way they don’t know how long you took with us.”

“Is this the distraction, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked restrainedly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are they here?”

“No, sir. They’re safe.”

Snape ran a hand down his face. “Very well.” They walked a little way in silence before the professor spoke again. “There’s a ritual, Mr. Potter. It’s not popular because it’s unpleasant, and few can perform it. Speak to Madam Medallion over the summer about ways to prevent others from polyjuicing as you.” Harry nodded in acknowledgment. “There is much to discuss and no time, but the headmaster wants to meet with me tonight. If you can, listen in. I think it’s important for you to attend, in your special way.”

Harry smiled. “I understand. Will you be okay?”

“I’m well, menace. Do not worry about me.”

Harry snorted. “We’re approaching, sir.”

Snape looked like he wanted to say more, but like he’d said, there wasn’t much time. So, he left.

———

Harry used his anger at Dumbledore as an excuse to get an early night. Draco knew the truth, but without the Marauders’ Map to watch over Harry, he wasn’t as accepting.

Harry made his way into the wall and sort of reached for Seren. He couldn’t decide how best to “check in” with an incorporeal being, much less one that had “pulled” him before meaning to. Still, Harry was pretty sure he felt a nudge, and the walls did feel lighter; Hogwarts had to be pleased that the items were gone. He’d done all he could, in any case. And Harry had to get to Snape’s meeting with Dumbledore.

Harry entered a snake corridor and continued towards the headmaster’s office. When he was close, Harry lingered in a good spot to watch out for Snape. As soon as he saw him, Harry worked his way through the walls around the headmaster’s office, which were both welcoming and resisting. Harry imagined Hogwarts was okay with his presence, but Dumbledore’s protections were less accommodating. He just hoped the asshole couldn’t sense him.

Harry had brought along his pouch. Not only did he want to make a habit of keeping it on him, but if given the chance, Harry was committed to stealing the sword. He didn’t know all it represented, but in Harry’s view, goblin creations should never belong to those who disrespected goblins.

Either Harry was quick or Snape was slow because it seemed like he hadn’t missed much of the conversation.

“How could we have found no trace, Severus?” Dumbledore paced behind his desk.

“In the houses and main halls, Headmaster. We may yet find some clues in the less travelled paths. The grounds could do with a thorough search. The forest—”

“And if he’s absconded with them?”

“Who?”

“Quirrell!”

“You’ve told me all year not to be worried about him.”

“There was no proof! It is undeniable now that all are missing at the same time.”

“We do not know when the mirror went missing.”

“Please do not try to placate me, Severus. This is a disaster, and someone will have to be held responsible. As headmaster, the burden may fall on me… Perhaps, in this case, it would be appropriate for me to accept the blame.” Silence followed these words until suddenly, Dumbledore snapped, “Goblins!” The Sword of Gryffindor rattled, and Snape guessed Harry was nearby. “They’ve turned the boy against me!”

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Who else?”

“The goblins do not meddle in our affairs, Headmaster.”

“They represent him too well, Severus! The way he spoke to me in the Slytherin common room!”

“You were caught taking his things. What 11-year-old would not be upset by that? He’s very attached to his familiar. Did you not demand Mr. Potter’s presence when Mr. Weasley’s rat went missing?”

“That is different, and I was not taking his things. It was a simple misunderstanding that he didn’t want to have clarified.”

“Albus—”

“Don’t, Severus. I know you are fond of your Slytherins, but there is something wrong with that boy.”

Snape pursed his lips. “Headmaster, I do not take kindly to people saying there is something ‘wrong’ with a child.”

“This is different, Severus. That mark on his forehead… I believe Voldemort is influencing him.” Dumbledore sounded as if he truly believed this, and Harry shuddered.

“What are you saying?” Snape asked warily.

“Think of it, Severus. He’s smart, charming, well respected by students above him, and he liaises with creatures. Who does he remind you of?”

“His parents,” Snape said softly.

“No, Severus! Do not let your bias fool you. This is not who he was meant to be.”

“How could you possibly know this, Headmaster? Blood is unpredictable, and he wasn’t raised here.”

“Severus, you must open your eyes. The mysterious guardian! The Malfoys! The goblins!” Again, the sword shook, and it appeared to fall. A clatter was heard, but Dumbledore ignored it. Snape deliberately did not look. “That damn sword. If it wasn’t so tied to the legend of Gryffindor, I’d bury it.”

Harry had heard enough, and now that he’d taken the sword, he wanted to return to the dorms in case someone came looking for him.

Once in bed, Harry reached for the journal linked to Madam Medallion’s. He wanted to tell her about the sword, but a message was waiting for him: “You beautiful boy, we’ve wanted this back for far too long.”

Harry grinned and closed the book, feeling grateful to have been of use to his guardians and friend. He then opened his bed curtains, removed his glasses, and closed his eyes. In Harry’s dreams, there was laughter and celebration.

Draco walked into the dorms to find Harry smiling in his sleep. He shook his head relievedly and got ready for bed. Harry would tell him what he could the next day.

———

Hogwarts was in chaos. Dumbledore had postponed the students’ departure indefinitely, and he held firm on the boundary: the students could not leave the castle itself. The grounds were declared off-limits, and the doors were inaccessible to the students. No matter how extensive, all responses were emotional.

Though every student was dissatisfied, some trusted that the headmaster “knew best.” So, their irritation read as mild disenchantment. Others were blatantly vexed but kept their expression within the bounds of correctness. Then, there were the unruly, who dispensed with the illusion of standards and embraced a “term’s over” philosophy. In that category were the Weasley twins and, to the professors’ surprise, the house elves. The house elves dispensed with the standard of providing nutritious meals. Instead, they focused on keeping the students happy, even if that meant giving them ice cream for dinner.

Dumbledore would not allow people or packages in or out of the school; the professors had to convince him to allow letters to pass. He didn’t seem to care that his actions were making the students antsy.

The students wrote detailed letters to their parents and guardians. The contents had the adults livid, but that still didn’t change things immediately. They sent howlers, which the headmaster listened to (or maybe destroyed) in his office to avoid the public display.

Despite the outrage, Dumbledore would not disclose what was missing. As a consequence, his list of allies outside of Hogwarts was shortened.

With the headmaster distracted and avoiding meals in the Great Hall, Harry and Draco sidestepped showing him Slytherin’s Map of Hogwarts. Quietly and purposely, prototypes were made available for preorder and shown around. Daphne handled the bookkeeping, and Draco kept track of details to finalize before production. Lucius had indeed come through.

Harry and Draco held the intellectual property rights, but they did not receive profit. All proceeds went to Slytherin House. Harry and Draco would serve as custodians, safeguarding the original goal. As such, they would oversee the funds distribution in perpetuity. As the “current head of house,” Snape was also involved, but they reserved the right to make him a permanent member of the board.

The Slytherins were unwilling to commit to a revolving “head of house” seat at the table when it was Snape they trusted. Regardless of who sat on the board, however, the leading voice would be “the enrolled students.” Decisions would be based on their suggestions, support, and goals. That said, some things were non-negotiable. If a Slytherin lacked funds for school supplies or tuition fees, that would take priority.

McGonagall took notice of the Slytherin dealings; when she saw a prototype, she shook her head in amusement.

“How much are they selling for?”

“For you, Mistress?”

“In general, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall clarified.

“Two galleons during preorder and 5 galleons thereafter.”

“And for bulk orders?”

“Four galleons.”

Draco contributed, “We are open to negotiations for a recurring bulk order.”

“I see.” McGonagall handed back the example. “Put me down for three. When I’ve had a chance to review the final product, I will consider a large order. Repetition will depend on other factors. Reception, for example. I expect you boys will be open to feedback.”

Harry grinned. “Yes, Mistress.”

“We might even consider a satisfaction guarantee,” Draco said.

McGonagall smiled. “We shall see.”

———

As expected, Dumbledore requested a meeting with Harry. McGonagall and Snape accompanied him again; Snape set up the recording station.

“Mr. Potter, I have called you into my office to discuss your recent wanderings around the castle,” Dumbledore said, and Harry frowned in confusion. He’d stopped. “Perhaps not very recently. I want to know if you saw anything unusual.”

“Having grown up amongst muggles, many things still seem strange to me. Could you be more specific?”

Dumbledore drew a deep breath and looked to where the sword used to be. “Did you ever see Professor Quirrell behaving strangely?”

“Yes.”

Dumbledore perked up. “How so, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, he was often muttering to himself without stuttering. I thought it was weird — I wondered if he was faking the stutter. But then I thought that maybe he didn’t stutter because he wasn’t afraid to talk to himself.” Harry looked up, as if playing back what he had said, and then nodded. It was very childlike, and Snape was convinced it was deliberate.

“Did you hear what he was saying?”

“No,” the boy said slowly. “It was weird. I moved away from him.”

“Mr. Potter, we have reason to believe that Professor Quirrell has taken the missing items and hidden them on the castle grounds.” Dumbledore spoke as if he were sharing a great secret, but the boy did not react. “Are you not shocked by this?”

“No.”

“And why is that, Mr. Potter?”

Harry lifted one shoulder. “Not enough context, I guess.” McGonagall snorted, and Harry turned to smile at her.

“Minerva, please,” Dumbledore said.

“Albus, really, how do you expect a student to feel? They know nothing of what is missing, and they were hardly connected enough to Quirrell to be disappointed in him for a possible theft.”

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at her but turned back to Harry. “Did you notice the sword is gone, Mr. Potter?”

“The sword?”

“He means the Sword of Gryffindor, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said.

Harry turned to look at its former spot on the wall. “Oh. No, I hadn’t noticed.”

“You knew where to look,” Dumbledore said.

“Well, yeah. It kept falling when you’d insult goblins.”

“I did not— I did not insult goblins, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore glanced at the recording orb.

“You did, actually. I remember because it upset me.”

“You are fond of goblins, aren’t you, Mr. Potter?”

“Of course.”

“Why is that, Mr. Potter?”

“Albus!” McGonagall interjected, but Dumbledore only narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’d like an answer, Mr. Potter.”

“What’s not to like? They’ve got a cool oath at their bank’s entrance, awesome weapons on display, and an amazing work ethic.”

“There’s more to them than meets the eye, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said sagely.

“That’s true of anyone.” The boy began to look around the room and walked over to Fawkes. They did their head tilt exchange again, and Harry returned to face Dumbledore’s direction.

“Mr. Potter, do you know anything about the missing items?”

“Just that they’re important and likely still on the grounds, which is what you’ve said. Oh, and that Professor Quirrell may be involved. Wait, does that mean you think the professor is still here? Should we be worried? What will he do if found?” He turned panicked eyes to McGonagall and Snape.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself, Mr. Potter. It is unlikely Quirrell is on the grounds.”

“So…” Harry furrowed his brows. “He stole the items, left them here, and then fled? Why take them?”

“Mr. Potter, those details are not for children’s ears,” Dumbledore said.

Harry internally rolled his eyes. “Alright, may I go now?”

“Yes, but do not tell your friends about what we’ve discussed,” Dumbledore warned.

“Okay.” Harry made for the door.

After Snape ended the recording, Dumbledore looked at him pointedly as if to communicate, “Do you see?” Snape shook his head. He most certainly did not see what the headmaster claimed he saw.

When Harry and his professors were all in the hall, the boy said, “Is it just me, or are those meetings getting weirder?”

McGonagall sighed and bid them goodbye. Snape escorted Harry to the dungeons in silence.

———

Never in the history of Hogwarts has a headmaster prevented students from returning home at the end of the school year. The students are eager to begin their summer holidays, and yet, they cannot even go beyond the castle walls! Parents are beside themselves with worry. Yet their only consolation is sending howlers…

The Ministry for Magic has a long history of respecting the school’s independence...

Headmaster Dumbledore has taken full advantage of this power and decided against sharing the reasons for such drastic action. But this intrepid reporter has discovered what he would have preferred to keep secret…

Headmaster Dumbledore was hiding the legendary Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts. He believed he could protect it better than Gringotts…

Dumbledore has been proven wrong. The stone is missing! And it may not be the only fabled artifact to have gone astray…

One student claims to have seen the Mirror of Erised in an abandoned classroom! This controversial artifact is believed by some to be dark since it…

And it has now been determined that the recently located Peter Pettigrew had been hiding at Hogwarts! He was disguised in his unregistered animagus form, pretending to be the pet of a well-known family with close ties to the headmaster…

In equally disputable news, the Goblin Nation declared that the Sword of Gryffindor has finally been returned! It is now believed to have been at Hogwarts all along! In the headmaster’s office! How is this possible? As some of you know well, the sword…

These are FOUR questionable pieces to an increasingly unnerving puzzle. Just what is happening at the school? And how much is Headmaster Dumbledore truly aware of?

———

The day following the Daily Prophet’s damning news, a departure date was set, and aurors were called in to search the grounds. Quirrell was located at the far edge of the forest with a massive hole in his head. The ministry recommended that Dumbledore have the school wards assessed and replenished, claiming that he should’ve been alerted when a professor died.

To himself, Dumbledore decided that Quirrell must have been meeting with an accomplice who betrayed him, taking the mirror with the stone inside. He resolved to meet with Severus to demand he report any changes to the mark.

———

“Seren? Uh, hi. I leave tomorrow. I, uh, wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know how—” Seren yanked Harry into the wardroom. “O-kay, I guess I’ll get into the right headspace then.” Harry sat down on the hard floor and allowed the sounds of falling water to guide him into a meditative state. Soon, he was met with the same forest as before. “I look forward to the day we can talk to each other more easily.”

Seren laughed, stepping out from the tree cover. “One day, little snake.” She sat down and looked at Harry appraisingly. “You’ve done well. Thank you.” Harry caught a flicker of sadness in her eyes before Seren continued. “I am sorry I put such a burden on your shoulders. I wish I could’ve seen another way.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I think so. You did what you had to do. I’m guessing you didn’t realize how challenging I’d find it all.”

Seren looked towards the trees. “I did not anticipate the drain that resulted after you captured the rat.” Then she met Harry’s eye. “I should have. But even once I knew, I did not discourage you from pursuing the mirror.”

“You knew I was training for it. I’m sure that helped you compromise.” Harry smiled playfully. “It’s done, and we’re better off.”

Seren brightened. “We are.”

The silence stretched on, and though it was pleasant, Harry knew Seren wouldn’t be keeping him in the wardroom if she didn’t have more to say. He turned knowing eyes on her, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Directness…” Seren straightened. “Harry, it’s time I told you about Professor Quirrell…”

———

The train ride to King’s Cross was oddly subdued. The students were excited to finally be out of the castle, but there was an air of confusion as they tried to understand what exactly they’d just been through.

Harry certainly knew. Someone in authority revealed just how much power they held over them; they’d been confined. Who did you report the headmaster to? The student body had just experienced the answer. No one supervised Albus Dumbledore. Even the parental outcry failed to galvanize the Ministry for Magic.

Dumbledore didn’t even feel the need to explain himself. He made everyone wait because he could. Yet, not a single student doubted that Albus Dumbledore would be the headmaster next term. Everyone in the castle — elves, students, professors, and maybe even the ghosts — was experiencing the repercussions of the headmaster’s actions. And no matter how comfortable the accommodations, they’d all been imprisoned.

“Harry?” Draco gently laid a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry turned towards him, but Draco pointed at the train compartment’s door, where Hermione Granger stood uneasily.

“Hello, Hermione.” Harry’s eyes drifted to his fellow Slytherins in search of orienting information.

“She thought you were ignoring her,” Pansy said as she continued plaiting Daphne’s hair. Hermione looked down shyly.

“I was just in my head, Hermione.”

“That’s what we told her,” Pansy said exasperatedly.

“I told you. I thought he was doing to me what he does to Ron.”

Ah. Harry felt caught up and jumped in before Pansy veered away from civility. “Hermione.” Harry waited for her eyes to meet his. “I don’t deliberately ignore Ron. He just isn’t on my radar.”

“Radar,” Theo repeated quietly.

“Was there something you wanted to say to me, Hermione?”

“Oh, I…” Hermione’s hands fiddled with the hem of her blouse; then she straightened. “Would it be alright if I write to you this summer?” The entire group stopped what they were doing and stared. “I, uh, know we aren’t friends.” Hermione scanned the compartment. “I know that, and I accept it. But, Harry, you’ve affected my life. I would like to be in contact with someone who speaks plainly to me.”

Harry looked at the others, half wondering if this was really happening. Then, he focused on Hermione. “You may write to me.” Hermione smiled. “But,” Harry continued, and the girl deflated, “you have to write to me ‘care of’ Gringotts. The muggles I live with are magic-averse. It’s a whole thing.”

Hermione waited a bit, but when no other caveat was added, she grinned. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Harry. And I promise that I’ll have no expectations. Acquaintances, at best.”

“And no overly emotional letters,” Draco added.

“Yes, Harry struggles with excessive emotions,” Pansy said.

Hermione nodded, now more willing to accept Pansy’s insight. “Okay, great. See you all next term. Have a nice summer!” Hermione waved and left.

“I can see the Gryffindor now,” Daphne hummed.

“I still think she’d have been happier in Ravenclaw,” Theo said.

Blaise threw a sweet at Theo. “Would you stop? You’re not fooling anyone here. You’re a Slytherin in Ravenclaw’s clothing, and you know it.”

Theo raised a brow, opened the tossed sweet, popped it in his mouth, and returned to his book. Blaise rolled his eyes lightheartedly and unwrapped a candy for himself.

“Harry?” Draco whispered when he was certain the others were engrossed in their own business. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you can share?”

Harry smiled delicately. “I think I have to sit on this one for a while, Dray. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Will you please tell someone, though? I don’t like that you were unaware of your surroundings.”

Harry smiled again, and this time, it reached his eyes. “That’s a good idea. As soon as I’m able, I promise.”

Draco nodded approvingly. “It’s going to be weird not seeing you every day.”

“Yeah, but we’ll see each other soon. And maybe you could visit me in the muggle world? You can’t come over to the house, but we could meet at the park? Or see a movie?”

Draco chuckled. “I’ll see what my parents say.”

———

Harry called for Argo as soon as he arrived at Privet Drive. The Dursleys were away and would return by dinner the next day. When Harry informed Petunia of Dumbledore’s “indefinite” lockdown, he assured her that the Dursley family plans need not change on his account. Through the Gringotts muggle connections, the key to Number 4 and transportation were arranged. And after Seren’s unsettling news about Quirrell, Harry appreciated the extra processing time.

Voldemort had been on the side of Quirrell’s head… Fucking hell… Harry gently touched his forehead.

“What has your attention, young one?” Argo asked.

“I can’t talk about it yet... It’s, uh, too fresh. I need to sit with it. Could you please help me arrange a meeting with Madam Medallion?”

Argo narrowed their eyes. “You have your journal.”

Harry shook his head. “This is different. I worry I’ll alarm her. The news is serious but not urgent. Could you carefully and casually set up a meeting with her? Ideally, on the day I’m meant to leave here. I can postpone going to the Malfoys a bit, but I don’t want to rush the conversation. Like, for example, squeezing it in between lunch and dinner. You know?”

“How about now? The Dursleys are away.”

“What?! You’re the one who impresses upon me the need to value Madam Medallion’s time.” Harry looked closer at Argo. “Oh, you’re testing me.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Argo, it will keep. It’s just...” Again, Harry touched his scar. “This is also personal, and it makes it harder to discuss aloud.”

“Very well, young one, but if she disagrees with your current assessment, I will say you went against my advice.”

Harry snorted. “No, you won’t. You’ll just say you agreed before you knew the topic. I can keep it from you until then if it helps.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You tell me when you want to, be it in 10 minutes from now or never.”

“At the latest, you’ll learn of it when Madam Medallion does.”

Internally, Argo warmed at the thought of being included in the meeting. They could tell Harry had just assumed they understood their involvement. The boy did not care about the perception of rank; Argo found this both naive and unbearably sweet.

Then, the boy took a 180-degree turn. “Hey, Argo, have you ever seen a muggle movie?”

Argo picked 2 movies from the Dursley collection, and Harry chose the food. Harry had always been curious about the movie nights he’d observe other people having, with the relaxed eating in front of the television set and the less nutritious (though not sweet!) food. So, when he and Argo settled in to watch Top Gun, eating pizza straight out of the box, with only napkins to assist, Harry finally felt convinced that his life would never have to go back to the way it had been.

———

The next night, Harry felt his aunt’s eyes on him as they prepared dinner. He had a feeling she wanted to talk about something; all Harry could do was wait for her to speak. His mind magic training helped him continue as if he couldn’t sense a looming conversation.

Petunia chose to speak once dinner was in the oven. “Harry, please sit. I’d like to have a word.” Harry sat, as requested, and she joined him at the table. “First, I should tell you that Mrs. Figg has moved away.”

Harry’s eyes widened. She was a staple in the neighborhood. He’d kept well clear of her for many reasons, but the main one was her weird, too-smart cats.

“She came to the house to say ‘goodbye’ and to tell me that I’d be ‘all alone now.’”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“That’s precisely what I asked her.” Petunia’s voice hardened. “She thought I knew that she had been placed in the neighborhood to watch out for you and be a resource to me.” Petunia's face pinched. “She’d assumed that I had not wanted her help. Then, she had the nerve—” Petunia squeezed her eyes shut for a bit, trying to contain her emotions. Then, she inhaled deeply before continuing. “She had the nerve to ask me not to tell Dumbledore that she’d gone... She even seemed scared.” Petunia banged the table with an open palm, and Harry suppressed a jump. “I remember her offering to look after you… Many things make sense now…” His aunt turned pleading eyes on him. “Did you know? Did you know she was m—?” She could not complete the word, but Harry understood.

“No, Aunt Petunia. I didn’t know.”

She relaxed her shoulders. “What did you make of the headmaster, then?”

“He’s all that we had imagined and more. His behavior is troublesome. Some things are predictable, like his interest in calling me into his office to discuss one thing or another. But he doesn’t seem to have a clearly defined goal.”

“Do you meet with him alone?” Petunia asked tentatively.

“No, and the meetings are recorded as well.” Harry couldn’t read her expression, and he thought that was for the best.

“And the other threat?”

“Still a threat, unfortunately,” Harry said, his eyes trying to convey what he meant: the original, not the followers.

His aunt gasped and pushed back against her chair. “How?”

“I don’t know, but I have help.”

His aunt nodded her head jerkily. “That’s enough for now. I’ll see you when dinner is ready.”

Harry silently stood and went to his room. All at once, he was dreading the next two weeks.

———

Draco invited Harry to the manor on day 8 of his brumation, as Harry had taken to calling his time at the Dursleys. The Malfoys were undecided about spending time amongst muggles but were happy to have Harry over for a few hours — at least — whenever was most convenient.

Harry checked with his Aunt Petunia, and it was decided he could leave after lunch. Argo invisibly escorted Harry to the local park, where Harry met Narcissa. Argo gently clapped his back “goodbye,” having decided it was best to remain behind to monitor things in his absence. Narcissa greeted him warmly and led him to a well-concealed area to apparate from.

“I must say, Harry, dear, Draco is beside himself with anticipation. He may be a tad more exuberant in his greeting than normal. Do prepare yourself.” Narcissa smiled, and then they were off.

Harry landed better than before, but he still staggered. Narcissa grabbed his arm in a way that indicated he was escorting her.

Harry smiled endearingly. “It’s hard to believe I’ll ever get used to apparition.”

Narcissa laughed merrily. “Many have felt the same, Harry, but I think you’ll adapt to the sensation sooner than you think.”

“Harry!” a voice called when Harry and Cissa were still walking arm in arm. Then, there was the sound of running and an armful of the youngest Malfoy.

“Hey, Dray,” Harry replied as best he could with Draco’s arms squeezing him.

“Draco, darling, ease up a bit so he can breathe more comfortably,” Narcissa said kindly.

“Oh, sorry, are you alright? Is Howell?” Draco looked Harry over and around for Howell.

“He chose to stay in the sunlight and keep Argo and Midha company.”

“We have sun.”

“He’s a bit of a sucker for afternoon sun that hits just right. Where’s Serafina?”

Draco exhaled dramatically. “Hunting, Harry! Your holiday gift just keeps on giving.” Then the blond muttered something Harry didn’t catch.

“Draco,” Narcissa said jovially, “you need to let that go. You know Serafina didn’t mean to frighten you.” Harry turned to Narcissa with a questioning look.

“Don’t tell him, Mother,” Draco said, his voice desperate. “Please.”

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about, darling.” Draco huffed, and Narcissa continued. “Serafina has been experimenting with different ways to drag in her kills. And—” Narcissa cleared her throat of laughter. “I don’t know how she managed it, but she dragged in a deer with half of it on her back. She made quite the sight and startled us all as she proudly walked past us on her way to the kitchens.” Harry chuckled.

“It was grotesque, Harry.”

“She’s a wild girl, Draco.”

“Yes, but must she be so overt?”

“Draco, darling, she didn’t know we had decided to eat outside. And we’ve been enjoying lovely game thanks to her. I’m amazed at her control. You know, Harry, she brings in rabbits without a scratch.”

“Alive?” Harry asked interestedly.

“She did once, but the elves politely asked her to not do that again,” Narcissa said, and Harry laughed.

“Of course, you would laugh. You love how wild she is,” Draco said.

Harry threw an arm around him. “You love her wildness too, and when you’ve gotten the ‘grotesque’ image out of your head, you’ll remember that.” Draco nudged him off. “Let’s refocus. Show me the latest photo of your owl.” Draco brightened, grabbed Harry’s hand, and pulled him to go faster. Narcissa looked on fondly.

Chapter Text

“The two are reunited, then?” Snape asked.

“Yes.” Narcissa smiled. “Draco exuberantly led the way towards Lucius’s compromise.”

“A home movie theater is an absurd expense.”

“He will not trust the muggle world easily, Severus, especially not when the war seems far from over.”

“Then perhaps their next investment should be a muggle-themed amusement park.”

Narcissa nearly spit out her drink. “Severus! Don’t be funny when I have something in my mouth.” She elegantly dabbed her mouth with a cloth napkin. “And please don’t put that idea in their head, at least not for another 2 years. The Knockturn Alley project is consuming Lucius. To prevent him from making Harry’s visit all about business, I encouraged him to leave the house.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Lucius and Draco shared a friend.”

Narcissa chuckled wittingly. “I know you want to speak with Harry too, Severus Snape.”

“If our paths cross, yes, but you and Draco are welcome to hear it.”

Narcissa regarded Snape more closely. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“It’s not upsetting on its own, but the implications weigh heavily on my mind. I require more information”

“I’ll make sure the boys join us for dinner.”

———

As the boys entered the dining room, Draco asked, “Mother, is Father not joining us?”

“He’s busy with errands today, darling. He may join us for dessert if his business concludes early.”

Draco nodded and turned to Harry, who was already whispering with Snape. “What’s going on with you two?”

“I have no idea, actually.” Harry used the pause to load his plate. “Professor Snape is concerned about where I found the snakeskin I gave him.”

“That snakeskin, Mr. Potter, is from a basilisk,” Snape said, and Narcissa set down her utensils.

“The snake of legend?” Harry took a bite of his venison and hummed in satisfaction. “This is amazing. Wild Girl and the elves make a good team! Are there dark cherries in this sauce?”

“Mr. Potter, do not attempt to distract us. This is a very serious matter.”

Harry kept chewing, but he looked at Snape with a wrinkled brow.

Draco snorted. “I don’t think he’s trying to change the subject, Uncle.” The blond shook his head and took a careful bite. “The sauce is very good, but seriously, more game? When is Serafina going to be satisfied with the hunt?”

“Draco! For Merlin’s sake, let her be! If we must, we’ll sell her meat to an abattoir. For now, everyone appreciates her offerings except you. I’ll let the elves know that you require a supplementary option. Now, Severus, a basilisk? Are you certain?”

Draco muttered under his breath, and Harry smiled at him supportively.

“Yes, Narcissa. The results were conclusive. Mr. Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t even know basilisks were still a thing. I read they were now extinct, with many believing they were only ever a myth. I guess I thought maybe the word ‘basilisk’ was now used to describe, I don’t know, a modern-day dangerous snake. A descendant, perhaps. I’ve not seen a snake worthy of legend in the castle. At least, I don’t think so.”

“You’d know, Harry,” Draco said.

“Okay, then, I’ve not seen a basilisk.” Harry happily kept eating.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Potter, if you had seen a basilisk, you’d be dead.”

“Rude,” Harry said laxly and made another gratified sound. “The cherries are just right. The sauce looks like it’d be sweet, but…” He drifted off and took another bite. “Argo has to try this. I think they’d love it.”

“I’ll set some aside. Now, back to the basilisk, dear. What Severus means is that they are extremely deadly. Their glare turns those who look upon them to stone, and their venom is rumored to have only one cure: freely given phoenix tears.”

“Mr. Potter, my concern is that the skin is not as old as I would rather it be. Where did you find it?”

Harry shrugged. “I was wandering around. I could take you there, I think. I got there through wall-walking, but I think I could get us there another way. I’d have to think about it. Could I get back to you on this?”

“Yes, by all means, take your time. We can reconvene at the start of the school year,” Snape drawled.

Harry snorted. “Sir, I’d need access to the castle to be sure of my location, anyway.” Harry shook his head fondly. “You can be so dramatic.”

Snape’s eyes widened as he looked at Narcissa, who used her serviette to hide her smile. Then, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, she asked, “Harry, what did you think of Draco’s owl?”

“She’s adorable, but I don’t understand why Draco has to wait to name her.”

“Ah, Kylene insists that the naming be saved for when Draco welcomes her home. At such a young age, she’s such a showy little thing. I imagine bestowing a name upon her later will improve their connection. And if I know my son” — Narcissa looked warmly at Draco — “he’ll have worked out quite the ceremony for her naming.”

Draco livened up. “I have been thinking that I’ll name her on the eve of a new moon or maybe on the night of her first flight around Malfoy Manor or…” Harry and Narcissa continued to listen, but Snape’s mind was elsewhere.

Where had Mr. Potter found that snakeskin?

———

Lucius arrived at the manor as everyone was relaxing in the family sitting room. “This is such a lovely sight to return to.” He kissed his wife’s cheek, nodded to Severus, and focused on the boys. “Draco, would you mind if I discussed one thing regarding Knockturn Alley?”

“Father!”

“What’s going on?”

Lucius focused on Harry’s curiosity; Draco reluctantly acquiesced. “The merchants are excited. They’re reserved, of course, but the gradual changes are having an effect. Two shops want to sell.”

Harry scooted to the edge of his seat. “To us? Or?”

“Yes. They have been wanting to sell but were unwilling to sell to the wrong people. The price is less important to them, but of course, they are eager to be treated as if their shop has real value. Well, the location, at least. They are aware we are not interested in buying the business itself, but they are willing to offer us first refusal on the contents. In my research, I discovered that in the past, it was common for the Alley’s shopkeepers to form individual bonds with the land.”

“What kind of bond?”

“It could vary slightly, but the basis was a mutually beneficial protection. The shopkeeper vowed to protect the land and its occupants in exchange for the same. The area used to have a more communal underbelly even while maintaining an enigmatic exterior.”

“What changed?”

“The Ministry, I imagine,” Snape put in.

Lucius nodded. “Exactly. The practice of land-based rituals fell out of public favor, and merchants were disinclined to maintain the practice. The original hope was that the perception would improve again before the shopkeepers would pass on the business. That did not happen, and so, in most cases, it was not seen as worth the risk.”

“Does that mean there are those who still practice the land rituals?”

Lucius nodded excitedly. “Yes! And if we secure stewardship of the alley, we could perform the rituals for all—”

“And they wouldn’t need to take the risk!”

“Precisely! And with the covenant with the land revitalized, some of the improvements that appear to be needed may very well be addressed without additional intervention.”

“That’s brilliant. I—” Harry turned to Snape. “What was that?”

Snape looked at Harry curiously. “What was what?”

“You made a face. I didn’t catch it, but I saw something. Do you think the rituals are a bad idea?”

Snape shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ us, Severus,” Lucius said. “If you have a thought, please share it.”

Narcissa pointedly cleared her throat, and Draco groaned, “Just say it, Uncle, or they’ll never leave it alone.”

Snape smoothed his robes. “I was thinking that the ritual would be stronger if you had a third steward… I would like to be an investor as well.”

“Severus,” Lucius murmured. “I…”

Harry turned to Narcissa, who smiled mischievously. He silently asked her for guidance, and she gestured for him to be patient.

“I recognize that I do not offer the same quantity of enthusiasm or investment, but I—”

“Severus! This is wonderful! I had no idea you’d be interested. Harry, what do you think?”

“I think I’m missing the deeper meaning here, but I’m happy for Professor Snape to join us. In fact, I’d like to see a higher-caliber potions shop in the alley. Maybe we could own that outright, be shopkeepers as well as… Oh! That’s brilliant! It could help with our cover. We could be ‘more publicly’ invested in a shop or two, drawing attention away from us being the stewards.”

“I was thinking about that. If we hide our names within the more surface-level information, our names get associated—”

“That’s enough!” Draco stood. “Father, you’ve shared, collaborated, and acquired a third steward. Let’s leave something for when Harry visits again. Come, Harry, let’s go see another movie before bed.” Draco reached for Harry’s hand and pulled him up.

“Sorry, Lucius. Draco has spoken.” Harry smiled and patted Lucius’ shoulder on the way out.

When the boys were gone, Narcissa offered her husband a sympathetic smile.

Snape, however, said, “This is why you weren’t allowed to be here all day.”

Narcissa laughed, and Lucius pouted.

———

The remainder of Harry’s time at the Dursleys was fine, but Vernon seemed increasingly off. Harry studied Petunia during his final dinner there and decided it was time for an uncomfortable conversation.

Before leaving the house, Harry asked for a private word with his aunt. The agreement between them could not erase the strain of “magic.” But Harry remained calm and committed.

“You have the bank information. If you think this mood isn’t his, please reach out to them. They can help.” When she scrunched up her nose, he added, “Aunt Petunia, the protections may help keep your family safe, but that’s only when they're in the house. Your husband spends a lot of time away from the house.”

Her eyes widened fearfully. “Do you think…?”

Harry understood. “I don’t know, but I believe it’s possible. You can rule everything else out before you decide. Just” — Harry glanced towards the living room where Vernon was watching television — “don’t doubt yourself. You know him, and if you think you need a different opinion, I suggest you not hesitate.” Petunia nodded curtly. Soon after, there was a knock at the door.

Harry made quick work of leaving and getting into the cab. Instead of feeling free, however, he was left with a sense of foreboding. He’d promised himself that he would not push magic into his aunt’s life. It was her choice to keep him, her choice to enter into an agreement with him, and it would be her choice to involve the bank with her family. Still, he didn’t like leaving Privet Drive with the Vernon matter unresolved.

He’d let Medallion know. That, he could do.

———

On the same day Harry left Privet Drive, he met with Madam Medallion. Harry had taken a cab to the Leaky Cauldron and made his way to Gringotts while Argo accompanied him invisibly. Harry nodded to the guards as he entered the bank.

“You’re looking well, Mr. Potter,” Madam Medallion greeted him stiffly, putting Harry instantly on alert. “Thank you for arriving on time for your appointment. Please, follow me.”

Once they reached the meeting room, Harry asked, “What’s going on?”

“Some ministry officials were in the lobby. I saw no need to give them free information.”

Argo became visible by Harry’s side. “The young one’s headscarf did a good job of concealing him through the alley. I doubt they noticed much.”

“If they did notice, would that be a problem?”

“Not one we can’t handle. Now, what did you want to discuss?”

“I’m just going to dive in.” Madam Medallion motioned for Harry to carry on. “Professor Quirrell was being possessed by a shade of the Dark Lord.”

Madam Medallion and Argo tensed; to Harry, the room’s air seemed to still.

Argo recovered more quickly. “How do you know this, young one?”

“Hogwarts sort of told me.”

“Please explain further, Harry,” Madam Medallion said mildly.

“So, during one of my wall-walks, I was pulled into the heart of Hogwarts. It’s this secret, inaccessible wardroom, and while there, I was sort of coaxed into a meditative state. And I met Seren. She’s like a representation of Hogwarts, and she recruited me to help get the Ravenclaw diadem, Pettigrew, the Philosopher’s Stone, and the Mirror of Erised out of the castle…” Harry continued his story, which filled in some key missing pieces for Madam Medallion.

When Harry finished his narrative, Argo — who had known even less about Harry’s time at Hogwarts — looked at Medallion for some hint on how best to proceed. But she seemed stunned too. Nonetheless, she thought of something to say before they did.

“If you wouldn't mind, Harry, I would like some time for this information to settle.”

“I don’t mind. I understand it’s a lot.”

“Are you still interested in continuing with the ritual to prevent others from polyjuicing as you?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“It will hurt, Harry,” Madam Medallion clarified again.

“Intensely, young one.”

“I think we all agree it’s necessary. So, I think I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Sadly, yes. Come along, then. Blue Gem is waiting for us.”

The ritual was tremendously painful! Harry imagined this was like having individual blood cells branded: “Property of Harry Potter.” Who even came up with this “solution,” and why?!

Harry had been a little concerned that he would never be able to have someone polyjuice as him, even if he wanted that himself, like for a decoy or something. However, Madam Medallion had said that was an extremely unlikely need. So, Harry had chosen to do the ritual, knowing that the real benefits were worth more than the potential loss.

Contrary to his expectations, the recovery was smooth. After such pain, Harry thought he might need to rest for several hours, if not more. But he was able to take a mild pain-relieving potion and get on with his day.

When the meeting continued, Harry informed Madam Medallion of his Vernon concerns, and she updated him on the Sirius matter.

There had been an expedited trial that appalled the magical community. Sirius had received compensation and a formal apology from the ministry, but the Wizengamot was more focused on minimizing the scandal than addressing systemic flaws.

Narcissa had reached out to Sirius, effectively convincing him to visit Gringotts as soon as possible. The bank’s tests unsurprisingly uncovered interference.

Two of Sirius’s compulsions were the same as Harry’s: avoid Slytherins and trust Dumbledore. They were less skillfully introduced, which allowed for easier detection, but the caster’s identity was much more faded.

There were also two more alarming ones. Before Harry’s parents had been put under the fidelius, Sirius had been compelled to doubt himself. And after the attack in Godric’s Hollow, his godfather was compelled to feel shame over what had happened.

On its face, the test could not immediately determine who intervened, but further analysis was possible. Besides, even if the results had been irrefutably damning, the ministry did not rely on Gringotts methods in formal investigations.

Harry did not need perfect proof. “Dumbledore saw Sirius after he was arrested, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Madam Medallion said simply.

“Where is Sirius now?”

“He’s getting the help he needs, Harry. Trust that he will reach out to you when he is more able.”

Bizarrely, the conversation moved on. Harry didn’t feel as limited as he used to, but that didn’t change the reality that some matters stayed unresolved. That was just life, it seemed. Harry didn’t know what to do with that elucidation.

They discussed Mrs. Figg, but Madam Medallion knew far more than Harry did. A real estate developer had approached Mrs. Figg with an enticing offer, and Harry was a partial investor in the project! Gringotts acquired other properties in the area to avoid suspicion, and his involvement was well-screened.

The current plan was to keep Mrs. Figg’s former property’s floo access active. Ownership had quietly changed hands and the floo records were discreetly updated.

If anyone were to discover the changes, the real estate project was real enough to override concerns. Ultimately, next time Harry was on Privet Dr., he’d have a more direct travel option that the likes of Dumbledore need not know about.

“As for Mr. Bott…”

Harry chuckled. “He’s still giving you a hard time?”

“He is.” Madam Medallion pulled out a folder. “What he fails to appreciate is that we are a bank, and his evasiveness raised questions about his account.”

Harry snorted. “I knew he was off his rocker.”

“Oh, he is, but his activities are not nearly as repugnant as some of his jelly beans.” Madam Medallion handed Harry a document.

“He uses muggle technology! Hang on… Am I reading this right? He has factories abroad?”

“You are correct. He combines various techniques. Argo gave us the idea.”

Harry grinned at Argo. “What made you suspect Bott was working with muggles?”

“Not muggles necessarily.” Argo looked askance. “There are humans who appropriate that which was not theirs to begin with.”

“I see,” Harry said. Argo had always been careful and often sidestepped certain conversations. Their avoidance was graceful, but the effect was the same. Some topics just weren’t elaborated on. “Do you think pursuing this is a bad idea, Argo?”

“No. Mr. Bott is not cruel. He is a true eccentric.” Argo faced Madam Medallion.

Harry followed their cue. “How so?”

“He’s extremely secretive. The jelly bean base is made abroad by muggle hands and preserved magically.” Madam Medallion handed Harry another document. “He employs a few magical humans, who sign strict confidentiality contracts. Despite this, they are not allowed much knowledge of the operations. They are, however, well-trained and amply compensated.

”The beans are then transported to a handful of locations to receive their unique flavors. They are transferred once more for mixing and final packaging. The process is elaborate, with the most informed being the elves who work for him.”

“But he treats them well, right? Argo said that Mr. Bott isn’t cruel.”

Madam Medallion smiled. “He does. We suspect that is why he is closed off to investors.”

“That’s…” Harry shook his head. “What if we make our own jelly beans? I know I’m not the candy type, but I do like my idea.”

“I am getting to that.” Madam Medallion chuckled. “Mr. Bott has agreed that others are free to pursue their ideas. He ‘welcomes the attempt’ and is ‘pleased to have inspired competition.’” She handed him a letter from Mr. Bott himself.

“This guy…” Harry shook his head again, and Argo laughed.

“Research shows that Mr. Bott combines muggle, wixen, and elvish techniques. Since you aren’t the ‘candy type,’ as you say, I took it upon myself to select a team who were open to the challenge. We already have samples.”

Harry didn’t like candy, but he did appreciate exploration and planning. The tester jelly beans were made entirely by hand, but in the long run, the base could be purchased from some of the factories Mr. Bott had used in the past. His supply chain, as well as its pieced-together history, was outlandish. Harry supposed there was a certain logic to it. Who would suspect facilities in the muggle world, especially those that sold to muggle businesses?

The spicy beans were SPICY! The “all desserts” samples offered a soothing contrast, but Harry would sooner eat spicy beans all day long. He could tell, though, that they’d be a big hit. The “all chocolate” beans were hard to evaluate, but then Harry asked himself: “Would Draco like this?” And the answer was a resounding yes. There were “what’s for dinner?” examples too, but that one gave Harry pause.

“I’m confused about something. How can this be my business? This is a take on Mr. Bott’s idea, and I am not making the jelly beans. I am just tasting them… I don’t think we should do the dinner ones. Maybe one day Mr. Bott will want to collaborate. Don’t get me wrong, the team did a fantastic job. It’s just… I don’t know. Something feels off.”

“I understand what you are saying, Harry, but Mr. Bott does not want investors at this time. And your idea is strong enough to hold onto. If you were to sell these ideas to him, you might be stifling your creativity. This way allows you to keep thinking up new themes if you wish. Now, as for the team I selected, they are not passionate about candy or business. They were drawn to the challenge. Think of them like consultants.”

“What if they change their mind? What if, when their efforts are out in the world, they regret not asking for more credit?”

“How about this: we offer them a share in the business should they continue to work with the company?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, that’s fine. But I don’t want them to feel like they have to stay to benefit. Can we do both?”

Madam Medallion smiled. “I will prioritize fairness.”

“For yourself too. I know Gringotts has its rules, but you really took this project on. Mr. Bott’s nonsensicality stirred something in you.” Harry grinned.

Medallion smiled inscrutably. “I’ll put something together and get back to you. How’s that?”

“Sounds good. Now, can we talk about branding? I think I have a name!”

When the conversation found its way back to Seren, Madam Medallion confirmed that the disclosure about Quirrell would prove useful to the study of the dark marks’ residual magic and the related artifacts. Additionally, Madam Medallion admitted that Harry’s original Gringotts scans had led to further considerations about his scar. That said, they had not yet explored the possibility of a “soul piece” residing within such ordinary objects, much less a human.

As unsettling as the news was, they would not panic. The studies would continue, and the original conclusion was still valid: the magic in Harry’s scar was contained and stable.

“Dumbledore is not ‘accidentally right’ about you, Harry. You are your own person,” Madam Medallion said.

“Thanks. I know, but… hearing that Voldemort was ‘in’ Quirrell…” Harry shuddered.

“Young one,” Argo said, “consider this: would Seren have wanted you involved in removing the Philosopher’s Stone from Hogwarts if she believed you were anything like that wizard?” Harry nodded pensively, and Madam Medallion offered Argo a grateful smile.

Medallion had explained a bit more about the stone and the mirror. No wonder Seren had wanted them gone! Neither should have ever been at Hogwarts. But the stone! That was worse! Was Dumbledore trying to lure Voldemort to the school? Did he know that a piece of the Dark Lord was drifting around the world? Who would that mini-soul inhabit next? Don’t go there, Harry. That’s too scary of a thought right now.

Harry now had a better understanding of why people believed that Voldemort could return. Because he could! Harry thought back to what he’d said to Narcissa months ago: “Well, we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t come back. I mean, if we’re here and he’s not, surely we have the advantage.”

Sure, the Dark Lord wasn’t as “gone” as he should be, but the plan still had merit. They’d fortify themselves, and if need be, kill Voldemort as soon as he drew breath. I’m just a lot more committed to the plan now… Fuck…

I am me. Harry touched his scar. “Whatever is in this scar… Merlin, it’s unnerving to think about. But I agree with you. I am me.”

“Should you ever doubt it, speak up, Harry. We will remind you,” Medallion said.

“Yes, we will.” Argo squeezed Harry’s arm.

“About Seren, Harry, how were you able to trust her so easily? You did, after all, check with me about Oak.”

Harry shrugged. “I guess because I’d been feeling her in the walls. She’d had many opportunities to yank me towards her; apart from that, I’m not sure. The wardroom felt peaceful, even without any visible doors. Seren just felt familiar.”

“Gringotts has been approached to help evaluate the Hogwarts wards.”

“Oh?”

“We aren’t sure if we will get involved. The ministry and the headmaster are not on the same page. My main concern is that Dumbledore holds the wards. Any improvements we make could put too much control in his hands.”

“The headmaster will probably block all attempts to get Gringotts involved.” Harry shook his head disapprovingly.

“There is that. What do you think?”

“I think that if Hogwarts can be better protected without putting it or its occupants at the mercy of the headmaster, it’s worth doing. If that is not something they would consider, then it’s best to just leave them to their own devices.”

“You are in the castle, young one,” Argo said carefully. “Do you really want to miss out on the opportunity to live in a more protected location?”

“There are limits to how protected I or anyone else will be if the headmaster controls all. And this isn’t just about Dumbledore; any headmaster could find concentrated power too tempting not to abuse. With the current state of the wards, Dumbledore detained everyone because of his desire to search for the missing artifacts. The wards didn’t stop us from leaving. He did. He didn’t even have to attain permission or justify himself, and what consequences has he suffered?

“According to the ministry, Hogwarts’ independence is to be respected. Doesn’t that mean that they’ll defer to Dumbledore on the wards too? They can pretend they are consulting, helping, or whatever, but they don’t have it in them to challenge the headmaster. Not really. I appreciate the need to keep the school separate from the government, but the castle should not be anyone’s personal domain or fortress. Leaders have to be held accountable, one way or another.

“Plus, Seren knows best what the castle needs. Wards that don’t allow Hogwarts to thrive are not the best ones. The castle and the grounds should be above the headmaster, especially when that leader’s agenda is at odds with Hogwarts.”

Argo nodded in satisfaction, and Madam Medallion said, “Thank you, Harry. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Harry smiled. “If you want me to ask Seren anything when I return, let me know.”

“We may just take you up on that, Harry.” Madam Medallion smiled fondly.

———

Harry had a great time at Malfoy Manor for one week. Then, Madam Medallion visited to deliver frustrating news. Dumbledore had escalated his request for Harry to visit the Weasley home. This time, it would not be so easy to postpone.

Dumbledore’s scandals had not distracted him enough for Harry’s benefit. The headmaster had used the unfavorable attention to remind the public about his deep concern for the magical community. He spun a not-untrue story about someone being after the artifacts; Dumbledore was helping. And for those who did not see the sense of storing the stone and mirror at Hogwarts, the headmaster countered: who would suspect a school?

Similar distractions were provided for those wondering if Gringotts might not have been a superior choice: it was there, but “the coveter” knew the stone was there. The headmaster had trained the public well. Those who dared to question him were either soothed by his tale or convinced that challenges weren’t worth the risk. After all, who were they to doubt the Albus Dumbledore?

Fucking disgusting, Harry thought as he reflected on the inanity of it all.

Who is this “coveter,” Headmaster Dumbledore? It’s dangerous to divulge at this time.

Did you have the Sword of Gryffindor, Headmaster? That is less important. I did think the sword could help protect the wizarding community, but I suppose the goblins’ view is different… It was a misunderstanding. I will find another way.

“He’s such an asshole!” Harry walked around his room. Howell wrapped around him more tightly. “He’s trying to make the Goblin Nation look… what? In league with this so-called coveter?”

“Yes, but Harry, we can handle this. I understand and welcome your anger.” Madam Medallion smirked, and Harry calmed down.

“Is it still a good thing that I took back the sword? I could not leave it there.”

“The sword is home, Harry. Do not doubt it. Now, let’s return to the more pressing topic. I think it’s best that you go to the Weasleys. To hold firm now, on this, is unnecessary. There will be times when you are doing far more significant things than enjoying your summer. That is when we cannot allow the headmaster to interfere. This time is flexible.”

“Will my acceptance at least throw him off his game?” Harry smiled ruefully.

“A little, perhaps, but it’s more likely that he’s preparing for either outcome.”

Harry nodded and moved towards the window. He considered his options as he admired the manor grounds. If Harry fought this, Dumbledore could try harder to make the Goblin Nation look like an adversary.

Going to the Weasley home is the right choice. Harry returned to his seat. “How am I going to tell Draco?”

Medallion smiled softly. “He will understand, Harry.” He gave her a disbelieving look. “Okay, he’ll understand eventually.”

“He wanted to show me Italy,” Harry said despondently. “And I was going to meet the baby goblins.”

She smiled. “There are positives to this, Harry.” He looked at her closely. “In addition to the non-negotiables, you will be able to reinforce, with the Weasley parents, that you are not friends with Ronald. Further, you will be able to represent yourself without the direct influence of the headmaster. You can choose to focus on the Weasley twins’ enterprise and use this visit to explain why you cannot stay there next summer. Dumbledore’s stated reasoning is that you deserve and require magical socialization. We will hold him to that; after all, how could you possibly thrive if only exposed to one family?”

Harry chuckled. “He doesn’t want me so close to the Malfoys, but just one other option is far from ideal. I get it, but…”

“Draco,” Medallion said understandingly.

“And you,” Harry said seriously. “The twins don’t know a lot. I probably won’t be free to write often, even with just our linked journals. I’ll certainly not be able to wall-walk or floo…”

“You’ll have Argo, Harry.”

“Poor Argo…”

“Don’t you worry about Argo. They’d rather be near you, keeping you safe, than luxuriating on the Malfoy grounds.”

Harry snorted. “Okay, okay.” Harry threw his arms up. “I’ve sulked. You’ve consoled me. We’ll readjust our plans. Now, I just have to tell Draco…”

“Yes, best wishes.”

———

Draco was upset. Very fucking upset!

He had tensed up as soon as he spotted Harry’s neutral visage. Madam Medallion’s visits would not result in careful facial expressions. Something was wrong. Draco knew it, and then Harry confirmed his feelings by speaking.

I have news, Harry had said.

Dumbledore! Draco felt stupid for thinking summer would grant them distance from the headmaster’s machinations.

Dumbledore had successfully manipulated the public into believing that his (let’s face it) screwups (!) PROVED his great efforts to protect the world at large. The public and the ministry were utterly incapable of evaluating Dumbledore as a headmaster only. They just had to think about his titles and grand history of standing up to dark forces. Blech!

That presumptuous, outmoded reprobate! He is still ruining our summer!

The headmaster upped the stakes too, by planting seeds about the Goblin Nation. Draco didn’t understand why Harry was protective of the goblins. He knew Harry liked Madam Medallion and Gringotts, sure, but the goblins were famous for being able to defend themselves. Be that as it may, Harry thought it was best to lose this one small battle to win the war.

Draco understood enough, but he hated it. He asked for some time alone, and Harry gave it to him. Draco wanted to be the kind of person who maximized the time they did have, but he was upset! The best he could do was not lash out.

———

With Draco needing time alone, Harry spent time with Narcissa. She had plans for the garden, and Harry was happy to assist her. They worked in harmony, and she was pleased to have such willing company. Lucius and Draco supported her when asked, but they made it clear that horticulture was not their interest.

Harry was also a very useful ally when Narcissa came upon a snake. One solved a mystery, informing them of a vole trying to make his home near the Dispatching Daffodils. The plants’ failed attempts to dispatch the vole were making them irritable. The daffodils could not get to the rodent, and because of the plant, neither could the snake.

The snake had described a very near miss with the flowers and confessed to being perturbed by Narcissa’s gardening choices. When the snake left them, Cissa nearly fell over laughing.

“Oh, darling, the world you unlock for others with your gift.”

Harry blushed at the compliment, and together, they went in search of the vole.

———

At dinner, Draco was quiet but polite. Lucius valiantly tried to engage him, but eventually, he turned to ask Narcissa about her day. He was not expecting such humorous stories about gardening; as he wiped tears from his eyes, Lucius had to agree that parseltongue truly could unlock whole worlds.

Draco had smiled courteously but didn’t laugh. So, after dinner, Harry tugged on his arm and led him to the family sitting room. He put Draco in his favorite chair and asked the house elves for a large piece of warm chocolate cake and two forks. Draco’s eyes widened.

“For you, I will eat some incredibly sweet cake.”

Harry pulled another chair close to Draco’s and took a bite. The elves had kindly provided a complementary tea that balanced the sweetness; Harry took several sips.

When the cake was almost gone, Draco whisperingly said, “I don’t want you to go.”

Harry reached for his hand. “It wasn’t my idea. If it made more sense to avoid going, I would not go.” Harry squeezed the blond’s hand. “I’d rather stay, Draco. I promise.”

Draco smiled. “Well, I don’t want you to be miserable. I’m sure the twins will have ways to entertain you at the warren.”

Harry snorted. “The Burrow.”

“I don’t care.”

Harry laughed. “Do you want some more cake?”

“Yes, but stick with your tea.”

———

The goblins made certain that Harry would make his own way to the Burrow rather than have anyone pick him up. The plan was for Harry to floo over and have Argo meet him there. Harry decided to travel as light as possible, taking only the necessities; he wanted to be able to walk away from his belongings comfortably. If someone (Ron, most likely) went poking around, certain safeguards would draw too much attention.

Considering that reports to Dumbledore were expected, Harry didn’t want to seem more distrustful at the Burrow than in the Slytherin dorms. If Harry had thought to factor in a future trip to the Weasley home, he might have handled the pre-inspection staging differently.

Harry had reason to be more precautious at the Burrow. Apart from the twins, he didn’t really know the Weasleys, and he’d not wanted to stay in their home. But Dumbledore did not think linearly. The headmaster would sooner use Harry’s wariness to express misgivings about “Mr. Potter’s magical guardian.” Harry could already picture it: What sort of guardian turns an impressionable young boy against a known light family? Or some other bullshit.

Plus, Harry would have Argo with him. He understood that they didn’t mind going to the Burrow, but Harry didn’t want to make it worse. Argo had enough on, dealing with a new place and watching Harry’s back; he didn’t want them to feel like they had to watch his things closely too. Taking less meant that Argo, like Harry, could use the most basic protections and alerts.

Harry stepped through the floo. He’d travelled to the Burrow via a public floo connection, not wanting to give away his starting point. He emerged covered in soot but knew he could not use magic here. It annoyed him, but he was prepared to adjust. Since no one was there to greet him, Harry called for Argo, who took one look at him and cleaned him up.

“Thanks, Argo.” They nodded. “Is anyone here?” Harry asked quietly.

“I believe they are all outside,” Argo said.

“Do you think I should wait or—”

“Who are you?! Mum! Dad!” The screaming girl took off running.

“Wait, I think,” Argo said amusedly.

Great.

Soon after, several redheads came into the room with their wands drawn. Harry’s brows knitted in aggravated disbelief.

Did they not know I was coming?

“Harry?” George asked, and Harry nodded.

“What are you doing here, mate?” Fred stepped closer.

“I thought I was invited,” Harry said uncertainly.

“Harry! Oh, dear. I do apologize. We weren’t expecting you to arrive via floo. Albus said— Oh, never mind that. Come in, come in,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” Harry said. ”Before I forget, this is my personal house elf, Argo. Argo, these are the Weasleys. Fred, could you please introduce everyone?” Fred did just that, and the other Weasleys seemed confounded.

“Hello,” Argo greeted. “If you’d like to show me where Harry will be sleeping, I can drop off his things.”

“I’ve put him in Ron’s room,” Mrs. Weasley said, and the twins groaned.

“Mum, no! Harry and Ron do not like each other,” George said.

“But Albus—”

“Molly, we know this. Let’s set ourselves up for success. Harry, we’ll put you in Charlie’s room. The twins have practically claimed it for their own, anyway. I’ll show Argo.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said.

Argo followed Mr. Weasley up the stairs, and Harry faced the others. They were just looking at him, and he refused to break the silence that had settled.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. “Well, Harry, welcome to our home. We were just outside enjoying the sunshine and getting some chores done. We are hoping to eat outside for lunch. Why don’t you come through?” She turned and headed back outside, and Harry followed, with the twins walking on either side of him.

“We can’t believe you came, mate,” Fred said lowly. Harry didn’t respond verbally but did offer an inscrutable look he was sure the twins would ask about later.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” the Weasley daughter asked loudly.

Harry redirected the conversation. “Ginnie, right? I apologize for scaring you.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I was just startled. That’s all.”

“Yeah, Harry, our Ginevra is tough,” Fred said, pulling her in for a playful hug.

“Only girl,” George said.

“Youngest sibling,” Fred added.

“She had to be!” the twins said together.

Ginny looked at Harry imploringly. “Please never call me ‘Ginevra.’”

“You got it.” Harry then took a moment to look around the property, admiring the tranquility. He turned to the twins and said, “It’s nice here. Do—”

“You sound surprised!”

“Ron!” Ginnie shouted.

Harry just ignored him and directed his questions to the twins. “Do you think it’s the trees that minimize the sounds of traffic? How many are there?”

“It’s the wards too, but yeah, the trees add something,” George answered.

Fred nodded. “It’s easy to forget how peaceful it can be back here.”

“It’s because Mum never lets us be idle,” George said.

“You’re not doing anything now. Mum wants you to chuck the gnomes!” Ron shouted, hoping to pull Mrs. Weasley’s focus. It worked too.

“That’s right! Fred, George, get back to de-gnoming! Maybe Harry can help.”

The twins rolled their eyes apologetically. Fred whispered, “You don’t have to.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve never seen a gnome.”

Ron, grumbling, went to help his mother when she called. Mrs. Weasley did not assign a task to Ginny, who seemed unsure of herself.

———

“Uh, guys?” Harry ventured. The twins looked over after having found and flung their fifth gnome. “This gnome-throwing plan sucks.”

“We know,” the twins replied together.

“No, I mean, it’s not accomplishing anything. They’ll just come back, right?”

“Well, we can’t kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” George said disappointedly.

Harry snorted. “That’s not what I was thinking.” When he was certain the twins were focused on him and not their extermination fantasies, Harry continued. “Why are they here? I mean, do they prefer this grassier area over the trees or what? Wouldn’t they prefer to be further away from humans and settle in properly? They’re oddly passive about the flinging. What’s that about?”

The twins looked at each other before Fred responded, “I have no idea. This is just what we’ve always done.”

“Could we ask them or follow them? Seriously, why are they not fighting back? Is their home underground? I cannot make sense of this, guys.”

This conversation led to an entire plan of action. Harry would’ve preferred to research the matter, but Mrs. Weasley needed to see them busy. So, taking time to ask questions, write letters, or read books was out. From what Harry could tell, the gnomes were not a problem. It was just the idea that they might become one that bothered Mrs. Weasley. Hence, the occasional tossing around, which the gnomes seemed used to.

Oddly enough, the gnomes would allow for the routine but not verbal confrontation. So, Harry and the twins started holding the gnomes captive, which did not seem like an improvement. But they were in it and treading carefully.

The gnomes were stubbornly resistant to answering questions. Harry and the twins were pretty sure the gnomes understood them perfectly, but the gnomes were great at cultivating doubt.

After their fifth capture, they changed tactics. Harry made sure the gnomes were watching as he menacingly went through the motions of starting a fire. And the twins channeled their “murder fantasy” energy to complete the scene.

When Harry pulled out a matchbox, one of the gnomes shouted in accented English, “Wait! What do you want to know?!”

The other gnomes were not happy about him breaking the silence, but they didn’t stop him either. The twins grinned and took charge of the questioning.

Harry still made a fire because Howell didn’t appreciate “being teased.” When he slid out from Harry’s robes, one of the gnomes flinched.

“He won’t hurt you,” Harry said quietly so as not to interrupt the twins’ conversation.

“You were going to burn us,” the gnome hissed.

Harry smirked. “I’d like to think that I wouldn’t have, but we were committed to getting you to talk.”

The gnome narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Me neither.” Harry winked, and the gnome reluctantly snorted.

They learned that the gnomes liked living near a large family because they were essentially scavengers. They made use of what the Weasleys threw out or forgot about. In exchange, they kept the land looking nice.

“You get nice trees!” one gnome shouted, and the others angrily agreed.

“I don’t like being thrown, but this is our home too!”

“We ain’t leavin’!”

“Okay, okay.” Harry stepped in. “How about a negotiation? Fred, George, how far out do the gnomes have to be to please your mum?” Harry then turned to the gnome who had spoken first — and the only one to provide a name. “Elmer, right?” The gnome nodded. “How far out can you be without disrupting your living situation?”

A fluctuating buffer was agreed to. When the Weasleys were in the yard, the gnomes would fall back 8 feet, and the twins agreed to a demarcation line. So, after lunch, Harry and the twins started working on a fence. The materials and specifications were provided by the gnomes, who seemed to delight in having some larger-sized beings do the manual labor. When they were done, Harry called for Argo.

“Please, could you hook us up with some refreshments? Some gnome-sized stuff too?” Argo took a look at the fence, shook their head, and popped away.

“Was that a yes? Where’s Argo going to get the treats from?” Fred asked.

Harry shrugged. “We shall see, I guess.” Argo popped back with an assortment of goods and then turned to Harry with a lifted eyebrow. “I’d answer you, but I’m not sure what the question is.” Harry reached for a plate of very small biscuits and raised his voice. “Gnomes! Do you want some biscuits?!” Gnomes emerged from seemingly nowhere and everywhere, walking towards the plate. “Elmer, this is a scary approach. I’m just going to hand these to you and get back to eating. But please, tuck in!” Harry waved his arms at the rest of the food and drinks.

George said, “Mum’s gonna be pissed we’re eating right now.”

“Let’s not tell her, then,” Fred said. “Argo, this muffin is awesome.”

Argo looked at Fred and nodded. Then, they responded to George. “I assure you, Mr. Weasley, your mother will be much more upset to hear you dined with gnomes.” George snorted.

Harry’s brow furrowed, but he just kept eating. Then, he patted the ground next to him. “Argo, sit and chat. What do you think of the fence?”

Argo shook their head fondly and sat next to Harry. “It is a sparkly fence. Whose idea was it to use marbles?” Harry snorted.

“The marbles make it pretty, Argo!” The twins said together and joined Harry in laughter.

Mrs. Weasley never commented on their efforts. Harry was pretty sure she didn’t care how they had resolved the gnome issue; therefore, it was unlikely she had noticed the related activities, including the supplemental snack. At dinner, Ron tried to make a stink about the twins “having the easier job,” but unfortunately for him, no one took an interest. Ginny was oddly quiet, which had Harry wondering how she fit into everything.

———

Both Weasley parents had given Harry permission to call them by their first names, Arthur and Molly. He found this helpful but not significant. It didn’t carry the same weight as it had with the Malfoys. The adults were relatively decent people as far as Harry could tell, but they were too close to the headmaster for him to chance knowing them better.

Molly tried to learn more about Harry’s connection to the Malfoys, but he never fueled the topic. Harry kept his answers short and friendly, leaning into the expected naïveté of a young kid. Arthur was easier: he mostly tried to poke Harry’s brain about muggle things. Harry didn’t mind answering him, but ultimately, he had to recommend that Arthur get to know a muggle library. The man should not have to rely on random people to fulfill his curiosity. A library was a much better, long-term resource. Harry considered whether a muggle encyclopedia would suit as a “Thank you for having me” gift.

Or was it heavy-handed? Fucking weasel is getting in my head!

Ron was the biggest issue, of course — Harry hated having to put him on his radar! They didn’t fight, but Ron did eventually succeed in pissing Harry off. But until then, Harry had sort of made a game of staying calm: exactly how many times could serenity be used as a defense? It wasn’t much of a game, and it was far from amusing. But it helped.

Meal times were their main overlap, and Ron was too reactive for his own good. He could find fault with anything Harry did: complimenting the food was “sarcastic;” silence was “snobby,” but conversation made him a “show off;” and offers to help were “insincere.” Ron was so obvious that Harry just had to remain respectfully calm, and an adult would sort the weasel out.

Ron had no idea how much effort Harry was putting into keeping the peace. Sure, it wasn’t all for him, but the weasel did benefit. Not wanting to stoke the post-Pettigrew trauma was at least a small part of the reason behind Howell’s low profile. Howell spent a lot of time in Harry’s new bag, which of course Ron mocked. The dolt thought it was “ladylike” to have a convenient place to store his things.

Yeah, okay… A lady like Narcissa works for me!

Madam Medallion was right. It helped that the Weasley parents were getting firsthand knowledge of the discord between Harry and their son. Arthur was more accepting of the division than Molly, but even she stopped actively trying to push them together.

Overall, Harry did his best to be “a fly on the wall.” He was polite, and he participated. But he’d turn conversations around and exit into a silent observation as soon as possible. The twins noticed how controlled Harry was being, but they didn’t push him to discuss it or try to change his manner. What Harry most appreciated about the twins’ acceptance was that they did not mention Howell.

Despite all of Harry’s precautions and efforts, Ron succeeded in pissing Harry off five days into his stay at the Burrow.

———

Harry was sitting with his back against a tree. He found the area relaxing, and Howell liked being outdoors for at least part of the day. The bag was comfy, but he preferred and deserved freedom of movement. Howell wouldn’t consider spending too much time apart, though, even if Midha was on the grounds.

Her profile was practically non-existent. She didn’t go into the house, and none of the Weasleys knew Harry’s owl had come with him. The Weasleys probably believed he wasn’t keeping in touch with anyone; Harry and friends thought that was for the best. Needless to say, Harry was more comfortable amongst the trees where he too could be more himself.

Harry was drawing in a book that looked exactly like the one he shared with Draco. It was a decoy of sorts, acquired after noticing Ron’s excessive interest in the original journal. Meanwhile, Argo was gathering fruit for a pie. There was enough distance between them and Harry for Ron to think he was clear to approach.

Being aware of his surroundings was second nature to Harry. So, when Ron shouted, “Oi, elf, give me one of those apples,” Harry heard him clearly. He collected his things, stood up, and made his way to Argo’s location.

Harry knew Argo could take care of themselves, but it was not easy for an elf to “justify” behavior towards a wizard. And this was a Weasley property.

“I said throw me an apple, elf!”

Argo said nothing but climbed higher into the tree. Harry saw Ron look around and mount the tree. Harry rushed forward more quickly, and just as Ron was about to get a better grip on a low branch, Harry shouted.

“Ron! Stop!”

The weasel scowled. “If I want to climb, I’ll climb, Potter!”

“Pick another tree.”

Ron returned to the ground and smiled viciously. “Oh, protective of your elf, are you? What? Are you worried you’ll be seen as a nobody if you no longer have one?”

Harry itched to use magic. “Do not speak to Argo again.”

“It’s an elf, Potter. They live to serve,” Ron said callously.

Harry stepped forward, and Ron stepped back. “You like lashing out? Stay focused on me. Do not mess with those I care about.”

“It’s an elf!”

Harry snorted dismissively. “Anything I could say in response to that statement is wasted on you. You sure as shit aren’t going to change your view because of something I say. But I’ve at least paid you the courtesy of warning you and making clear where I stand.”

“You won’t always be around, Potter.”

“You think Argo is helpless, do you? Well, know this, Ronald Weasley: I will fully support whatever action Argo feels they must take to deal with you. They could land you in the hospital, having knocked you on your ass with a concussion, and I would stand by them. So, don’t think I have to ‘be around’ to lend my support.”

“This is my house!”

Harry just stared at Ron. Inside, Harry was fuming and willing Ron to get the fuck away from the tree. Finally, Ron huffed and stormed off. Harry shook his head and muttered, “Fucking asshole.” Then, he put down his bag and stretched his upper body.

After a few minutes, Argo joined Harry on the ground. Harry took one look at the basket Argo was carrying and snorted. “How many pies are you making?”

“I may also make jam. Come. There’s another tree I want to visit. We can have tea there.”

“Lead the way.” Harry bent down to collect his bag, and Howell slithered up his leg.

~“That weasel deserves a bite.”~

~“We’re keeping our fangs to ourselves, Howell. I understand that’s what guests do.”~

~“Then, we must secure our own nest so we may discipline the unruly.”~

Harry snorted. ~“One day. Did you spend some time with Midha?”~

~“She agrees the weasel deserves to be bitten.”~

Harry stroked Howell. ~“He bites himself.”~

~“Since you are so calm, I’m going hunting.”~

Harry laughed, and as Howell exaggeratedly undulated in the grass, he turned to Argo. “He is disappointed in my lack of bite.”

Argo rolled their eyes. “May he find more appropriate vermin.”

———

Forty minutes later, having tea is where Ms. Luna Lovegood found them. “Oh, hello,” the blonde girl said dreamily. She was barefoot and moved her fingers as if she were caressing the air she walked through.

“Hello,” Harry said.

“I’m Luna. Luna Lovegood. I live just over there.” Luna arced her arm in the direction of a yellow house, just visible through the trees.

“I’m Harry Potter, and this is Argo. We’re staying at the Weasleys for a while. Care to join us?”

Luna skipped forward. “Yes, please. I’m told Argo makes lovely fruit and nut bars.” Harry and Argo looked at each other. “It’s sweet how well you two get along. Not everyone is lucky to have such supportive friends.” Luna nibbled on the bar and turned to Argo. “Try coconut oil, Argo. Harry will only ever like honey in tea when his throat is sore.”

Harry started laughing. “I like you, Luna.”

Luna beamed, but her smile was soft.

Chapter Text

Luna became an integral part of Harry’s time at the Weasleys, baffling Ron, Ginny, and Molly. No one protested Luna’s presence on the property, but she was never invited to the house. This disappointmented Harry, which surprised him, but he refused to let the limited hospitality discourage him.

Harry met up with Luna in the Weasley woods at least once a day; they were usually alone. The twins didn’t have a problem with her, but they were absorbed in their experiments. They seemed to be on the verge of some big discovery, and Harry was happy to be their alibi. They weren’t avoiding chores; they were “entertaining Harry.”

One day, Harry and Luna were walking silently amongst the trees when Luna stopped abruptly. Harry was instantly on alert, but the only perceivable concern was Luna’s overbright, sad eyes.

“I need your help, Harry.”

He waited for her to continue, but Luna just gazed at him. When Harry realized that she would not elaborate without an acknowledgment of her words, he said, “If I can, I will help you.”

Luna nodded ruminatively. “My mother nearly died a couple of years ago. I saved her… I called her away just in time. If she’d been any closer to the cauldron when it exploded, she’d have died… This time, I don’t have that option… You may not succeed, but I would like for you to try. Please.”

Luna’s voice was soft, but the plea was urgent nonetheless. Harry knew he should probably be asking questions like “What do you mean?”, “Why me?”, and “Are you sure?” But instead, his mind became placid and clear. What did it really matter why Luna was asking him? Harry had meant what he said: if he could help, he would.

Harry nodded forcefully. “What do you need?”

“The next blast will touch her, and she’ll need to be pulled out.” Luna’s eyes moved across Harry’s face. “Stepping through the wall is best…” Harry blinked in surprise. “We’ll cover up what you do, don’t worry. That’s her only chance, and it still may not work.” Luna reached for his hand. “I won’t blame you if she doesn’t make it, Harry. But please, will you try?”

His hand gripped Luna’s more tightly. “When?”

“Soon.”

After that day, Harry spent most of his time in the woods. He had explained to Howell, Midha, and Argo that Luna would need his help without going into detail. All three knew he was holding back, but Harry would not budge on his decision to say as little as possible. Argo was the most accepting; Harry thought that had something to do with witnessing Luna’s intuitive nature firsthand.

Howell and Midha, on the other hand, could not understand why Luna needing help necessitated Harry to keep his distance. But Harry could not bring himself to tell them about the expected explosion. Not only was this his way of keeping them safe, but Harry believed intentness was essential to achieving his goal. He did not feel like he had the time to convince them, and Harry would not open the door to doubt. These incomprehensible restrictions bothered Howell and Midha; Harry’s reticence irked them more. But they reluctantly accepted that this was a determined course of action and not reflexive stubbornness.

Harry could not wall-walk at the Burrow, and he surely couldn’t practice travelling with a person. Even if he had decided that he could, Harry didn’t think he could leave the Weasley property without raising suspicions. Therefore, Harry could not train with the actual walls either. So, instead, Harry ran thought experiments, and he meditated — a lot.

The twins knew something was bothering him, but they could also tell he wasn’t going to share. They provided cover for him, though, which Harry appreciated. The most difficult to assuage was Draco. He had picked up on Harry’s distance, and Harry didn’t know where to begin with that explanation.

———

“Your dragon misses you.” Luna caressed a tree and stared into the distance.

“He does,” Harry agreed.

“He’ll see you today, I think.” Luna grabbed his hand and moved them beyond the Weasleys’ territory.

Luna let go of Harry’s hand when her eyes glazed over. Then, she whimpered just before a loud boom was heard. Harry clasped Luna’s hand again and pulled her as he ran towards the yellow house.

Standing near the requisite building, Harry alarmingly realized that he didn’t know which wall he needed to enter. Unmoving, he inspected the house, his eyes scanning the superficially undisturbed structure. There were no hints for how to proceed. Without Luna’s foreknowledge, Harry didn’t think he’d know that the bang had originated from the Lovegood home.

“Which wall, Luna?” Harry asked gently.

She led him around the side and pointed low. Harry didn’t question Luna further before he stepped into the wall.

Harry spotted the woman immediately, and he didn’t like her positioning. He quickly pulled a tabletop towards him — a small gift from the blast — and shifted her fluidly onto the surface. Then, he cast a levitation charm on the makeshift stretcher, grasped the board’s edge, prayed to Lady Magic, and pulled as hard as he could.

Harry changed positions while moving through the wall and pushed Luna’s mum out first. He thought that would give him a better chance of preserving her body. Once on the other side, Harry stumbled. The experience had been hard on him, and he wasn’t sure why. Luna rushed to her mother’s side and smoothed her hair, murmuring something Harry couldn’t work out.

“Argo?” Harry called out weakly. Argo appeared in an instant, their eyes wide. “I need you to make it look like that wall had a hole.” They nodded and snapped their fingers. “Thanks. Now, I’m gonna pass out. Please help Luna.” Finally, Harry allowed the darkness to encompass him.

———

Harry came to in an unrecognizable room. There was a faintly glowing orb on the bedside table. Beside it, he spotted his glasses and gratefully put them on. The space did not become more welcoming in the resultant clearness.

“Argo?” Harry hesitantly called out.

But they did not come. That unnerved Harry most of all. His wand was still on his person, secure in its holster, and Harry flicked it to his hand. He carefully got out of bed and padded towards the door. Before he reached it, however, a strange man walked in.

“Good—”

Harry aimed his wand at the stranger’s chest. “Who are you?! Where am I?!” The man squeaked and backed out slowly. Harry ambled forward, matching their progress. “Who are you?!”

“Harry?!”

At the sound of Draco’s voice, Harry lunged and seized the stranger’s cloak. Harry heard a clatter but ignored it as he concentrated on keeping his wand on the unknown man.

“Where am I?!”

The man stuttered, “M-m-mungo’s. S-st. M-mungo’s H-h-hospital.”

“Harry! Harry, it’s okay! You’re in the hospital, Harry. He’s telling the truth.” Draco was now in Harry’s eyeline. “These morons insisted on you being alone in your room.” Draco glared at the stranger. “Come, let’s get you back in bed. Let the idiot go, Harry.”

Harry narrowed his eyes warningly and shoved the stranger back, his wand still leveled on the man. “Go away.”

The man nodded jerkily and hurried off. Harry did not lower his wand as he surveyed the room of gawking bystanders.

Draco snorted, grabbed Harry’s other arm, and gently eased him back into the room. “You’re safe, Harry. That man is an idiot, but he won’t hurt you.”

“Argo didn’t come when I called.” Harry’s voice was surprisingly raspy; he imagined the adrenaline had made his voice clear before.

“Unauthorized house elves aren’t allowed to pop around Mungo’s. Argo was going to stay by your side, but the morons insisted on putting you and Luna’s mum on different floors. Argo decided it was best to be with Luna.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. “What happened?”

“There was a potions-related explosion, and you got Luna’s mum out of the room it occurred in. Do you remember?” Harry nodded. “After you passed out, Argo called for help. Medical transport was arranged, and we met you here. It’s been a challenging, bureaucratic nightmare. That’s why my mother isn’t here. She’s holding the line and arranging to get you out.”

Harry could tell Draco was unwilling to elaborate, and he was too tired to care about the details; Harry could easily wait. “How’s Luna’s mum?”

Draco’s face contorted, and Harry feared the worst. “She’s stable, but they had to put her in a healing coma. They were impressed with your stretcher approach, by the way. The healers have high but cautious hopes that Mrs. Lovegood will recover fully. Mother wants Uncle Severus to consult on the matter since potions experimentation was involved, but…”

“Bureaucratic nightmare?” Harry guessed, and Draco nodded. Draco reached for Harry’s hand and squeezed. Harry closed his eyes at the touch, and soon, he fell back asleep.

———

When Harry next awakened, a more reassuring sight greeted him. Draco and Narcissa were sitting quietly in chairs on either side of his bed. They appeared well, but Narcissa was watchful, with her chair angled towards the now open door.

Harry broke the silence. “Hi, Cissa.”

She turned to face him and smiled. “Hi, darling. It’s good to see your gorgeous eyes again. You gave us quite the scare.” Narcissa gestured towards the open door with her eyes, and Harry nodded. “I have been told you are well. However, when you leave the hospital, your guardian wants your personal healer to take a look too.” Harry smiled.

“Harry?” Draco called for him gently. “You should know that Dumbledore is meddling.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Is he the bulk of the bureaucratic nightmare?”

“Mostly, yes,” Narcissa said. “But don’t you worry about that. Your job is to rest and heal.”

“Will they let me do that at Malfoy Manor?”

“That has been requested, and there are no legitimate hurdles. But since the headmaster is well-regarded, the hospital is delaying your release. Think of it as quadruple checking,” Narcissa said diplomatically.

“He’s trying to use this to draw your guardian into the light, Harry. So, St. Mungo’s is trying to avoid a PR nightmare,” Draco said angrily.

“It’ll be fine, my darlings.” Narcissa reached for their hands. “The important thing is that Harry is well and awake.”

“Where’s Lucius?”

Draco’s eyes darted to Narcissa, whose hold on Harry’s hand strengthened as she gave him her full attention. “The bureaucracy escalated beyond the hospital walls. Lucius felt he could be of greater use at the ministry.”

“So much for privacy, I guess,” Harry grumbled.

“Yeah, that ship sailed. There was a special edition of the Daily Prophet,” Draco added.

Harry groaned. “How long have I been out?”

“The first time, for about 12 hours. After you woke up and saw me, it’s been 9 hours.” Draco chuckled. “You scared the magic out of the trainee medic.”

“Draco,” Narcissa reprimanded, but it was perfunctory at best.

“Is that why no one is coming in here?”

“The healers don’t need to see you anymore. So, they’re keeping their distance. We did warn them that you shouldn’t wake up in an unfamiliar room alone.” Draco shook his head frustratedly.

“Why wouldn’t they let you in?”

“Dumbledore,” Draco gritted.

“We’ll discuss that later, darlings.” Narcissa’s eyes drifted to the open door. Harry’s wakefulness was drawing more attention.

“I take it the open door is mandatory?”

“A compromise,” Narcissa offered.

“How’s Luna?”

”She’s hopeful. Argo has been kind enough to keep her company while her father attends to his wife’s care. The staff are continuously evaluating her mother’s state. The Lovegoods are extremely grateful to you, Harry,” Narcissa said softly.

“I’d like to see her before I leave, but…”

“It’s not a good idea, Harry. It would invite more attention,” Draco said.

“We could ask her to the manor, dear,” Narcissa said.

“That would be nice.” Harry smiled contentedly and then yawned. “I don’t want to fall back asleep. Is there anyone I can talk to, to help get me out of here?”

“Yes. I will return shortly.” Narcissa grinned.

“She’s about to go kick some butt,” Draco whispered, and Harry laughed.

———

In the end, Harry needed to receive a couple more scans, by two different healers — one more senior than the other — and talk privately with Headmost Healer Caroline Beaumont.

Narcissa gave him a snapshot of the hospital chief. She was an accomplished healer who had pursued a more administrative path when it became clear that the bureaucratic side of things needed more practical influence. H.H. Beaumont had robustly carved her own path and strove for balance in her career so as to maintain and advance her healing skills. She was dedicated to never losing sight of how everyday healing occurs on the most patient-facing levels.

She was open-minded, accommodating, and honest. However, H.H. Beaumont was not politically inclined and answered to a board that was heavily influenced by donors. In short, she could potentially be useful to Harry, but the headmost healer would need the right inspiration.

“Left to her own devices, she does good work for St. Mungo’s, but her fortitude crumbles when faced with logic-resistant high-handedness,” Narcissa summarized.

———

The scans validated Harry’s preference for leaving St. Mungo’s, but H.H. Beaumont needed to impart her inquietude. She provided the recording orb and promised to get a copy to Harry’s chosen recipient.

Dumbledore had handled Beaumont’s self-doubt like an experienced schemer. The venerable asshole was “troubled” by the “missing guardian.” He “pondered” over what this could mean for Harry’s living conditions: what kind of guardian doesn’t show up in a charge’s hour of need?

Harry tried to “play along,” but he didn’t have it in him. Did they not say that I needed rest?

“Mr. Potter, your wellbeing is our principal concern. I want—”

“Who do you mean by ‘our,’ Ms. Beaumont?”

“Pardon?”

“When you say ‘our,’ who are you including?”

The chief hesitated before answering, “The hospital, Mr. Potter.”

“That’s good because Headmaster Dumbledore should not have any say in my life beyond the grounds of Hogwarts. Even there, I would argue that his authority requires scrutiny.

“Did the esteemed headmaster tell you that I am not allowed to speak with him without the presence of two witnesses and a recording orb?”

H.H. Beaumont shook her head. “I did not know.”

“You didn’t need to know, though, to make the right decisions for your patient and hospital. I can appreciate that it’s hard to stand opposite the headmaster. He demands meetings with me regularly.”

Beaumont studied Harry’s face. “Why?”

“I am not sure, but I digressed. I apologize. Returning to this matter, Healer Beaumont, I do not believe Headmaster Dumbledore is preoccupied with my wellbeing. That is my view of things, and as the patient, I believe my word should lead us now.”

“I apologize, Mr. Potter.”

“I accept it, Healer Beaumont. To allay any fears of your own, I will share more details with you. This is a private meeting, after all.” It wasn’t a question, but Harry waited for a response.

“It is, yes.”

Harry nodded solemnly and took a sip of water before speaking. “I live with magic-hating muggles, Ms. Beaumont.”

She flinched. “I—”

“My magical guardian has dramatically improved the quality of my life. Sometimes I wonder if that is the real thorn in the headmaster’s side.” Understanding filled the healer’s eyes. “Now, Healer Beaumont, will you please support my departure? I wish to be somewhere more conducive to rest.”

———

The Malfoys and Harry were waiting in the hospital room for Headmost Healer Beaumont to resolve the most pressing administrative matters, but the door was blissfully closed.

Progress. Sometimes, it’s in the little things. “Narcissa, I’m alright with Argo staying with Luna, but how can I let them know that we’re leaving?”

“How about you write them a note, and I’ll deliver it personally before we leave?”

Harry nodded and did just that. When Narcissa exited the room, he examined Draco’s face. The blond didn’t look well-rested, and Harry was oddly touched.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Draco.”

“I know.” Draco rolled his eyes gratifyingly. The blond bit his lip before speaking again. “The real worry was that we’d be cast aside. Dumbledore did his best to invalidate any claim we might have to be near you. Mother was confident that he could not achieve such a thing, but I wasn’t convinced.”

Harry tapped the bed to request Draco’s hand. The blond rolled his eyes amusedly and placed his hand in Harry’s; Harry smiled. “Does the magical world have ‘emergency contact’ forms?”

The blond furrowed his brow before grinning. “I’m not sure, but I’m positive a formal letter can be put in your file.”

Harry liked seeing the uplift in Draco’s mood. “We’ll sort it.”

———

H.H. Beaumont helpfully provided a more private egress from the hospital. Harry could tell from the look on her face that this departure would result in her facing off with Dumbledore again. But he didn’t care beyond being grateful for her help and silence on the matter. He was the patient, after all; Harry didn’t want to get involved in the administrative or political burdens that awaited the headmost healer, and he should not have to.

Once in bed at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa advised him that Madam Medallion would soon visit with the healer. So, Harry did his best to stay awake, getting Draco to help him draft a letter to their friends.

Draco reviewed the parchment. “This is very poorly written, Harry.”

“It’s a draft!”

“I’ll make changes, write it out more neatly, and make copies for you to sign. It’s best that they hear from you today.” Draco shook his head at the letter. “We can’t let your penmanship regress, Harry.”

Harry sighed, “It’s a draft, Draco.”

The blond ignored him. “I better get on this, but don’t expect me to play secretary when you’re better.”

———

Harry was just beginning to doze when there was a knock at his door. “Draco, the door,” he mumbled.

“I heard it.” Draco got up to open the door. “Greetings, Madam Medallion. You’re just in time. Harry was trying to fall asleep again.”

Medallion greeted Draco and politely asked him to step out of the room. Draco agreed and left them to it.

“Hi,” Harry said groggily.

Medallion walked over to Harry’s bed and moved her fingers through his hair. “You’re exhausted.”

“Yup.” Harry popped the “p.”

“So, now you know that you can move another magical human through a wall.” Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Medallion beat him to it. “I know, not in animagus form.” Harry nodded. “It was not easy to leave you in St. Mungo’s, young one. We did not appreciate making the strategic decision over following our instincts to bring you home.” Harry smiled affectionately. “We are grateful to the Malfoys for being onside.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you and for causing such a conflict.”

“You saved a life, Harry. Mrs. Pandora Lovegood is a kind soul. We understand.”

Harry nodded. “Luna asked for my help. She knew her mother would be in danger.”

Medallion nodded. “I’m aware. Save your strength for more pertinent contributions to the conversation.”

Harry snorted. “I think I walked through wards too,” he said undecidedly.

“You did. It’s one of the reasons that your friend Luna could not help her mother. Mrs. Lovegood put up strong wards, knowing full well the risks she was taking. Your friend skillfully guarded your secrets. She allowed the healing staff to believe you got lucky, that the explosion must have caused the wards to fluctuate, thus permitting your entrance.

“Aurors were a little mystified by the wall damage. But again, your friend Luna helped them to believe that the hole was one size when you went in and another when you came out. Argo claimed to have widened the hole to aid your exit, which will also explain any magical residue should they choose to inspect things more closely. They shouldn’t, but with Dumbledore’s officiousness, the more protections, the better.”

“How is my tiredness explained?”

“Theories about exposure to unknown fumes, the effects of shock on the body, and walking through struggling wards.”

“So, people see what they want to see?”

“In this case, it’s yes and no. Healers apply themselves to the patient’s amelioration. They are not in the habit of discussing irrelevant information or conjecture. In your case, however, the combination of your celebrity status and Dumbledore’s involvement led to excessive thought on the matter.

“The old fool even tried to scare people into thinking this was a targeted attack. The headmaster wanted to see you for himself and tried to get a copy of your medical records. St. Mungo’s was well-warned that violating your privacy would have severe consequences. So, they took even greater precautions and sent an official copy of your records to your magical guardian.”

“He’s insane,” Harry rasped.

“That’s unclear, but I do believe he is on his way to becoming so. The pressing concern is that he will use the media to exploit this event. So, we’ve already delicately warned the papers to tread carefully.”

Harry chuckled sleepily. “Delicately.”

“May I now consider you updated, young one?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, Madam Medallion.”

“And are you ready to be evaluated by a goblin healer?” Harry nodded. “Good, I’ll be right back.”

———

The healer was an ethereal goblin named Pearl. In Harry’s exhaustion, he unthinkingly asked, “Are you glowing?”

Madam Medallion laughed; Pearl smiled warmly as she responded, “Perhaps, young one. Let me scan you to see if there’s anything wrong with your vision.” Harry snorted, thinking of his glasses. “Well, Medallion, you’re right. He didn’t just magically exhaust himself.” Pearl waved her arms, and a network of light appeared above him. “You see these strands here, Harry?” Harry nodded. “Your magic is reaching out. Are you thinking strongly of anyone?”

“Uh, yes.” Pearl looked at him, clearly wanting him to continue. “Luna… her mum… Argo.” With each admission, a different strand intensified.

“I need you to accept that you’ll know more about them when it’s time. Focus on Luna’s mother… that’s it… now, breathe steadily and acknowledge to yourself that you’ve done all you can for now.” Pearl gave Harry some time to focus on his own before resuming her guidance. “Let me hear you say it: ‘I’ve done all I can for Luna’s mum.’”

“I’ve done all I can for Luna’s mum,” Harry repeated.

“That’s good. Now, continue saying it. To yourself or aloud, whichever feels right.” Harry did as he was told, and when it was time, Pearl guided him to focus on Luna and Argo. “My friends are safe. I will hear from them when it is time.”

“My friends are safe. I will hear from them when it is time.”

“There, see the strands now. They’re calm again. I think you overexerted yourself, and in that fragile state, your magic responded to your thoughts but could not pull back on its own. You’re young, Harry. Your magic is still developing. What your magic was aiming to do, we may one day find out. Now, I’m going to scan you again… That’s much better, but I’d still like to put you on some supportive potions to build you up a little faster. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Pearl patted his hand and said, “You’re very welcome. Now, close your eyes and rest. When you next wake, you’ll have hearty food and the first of your potions waiting for you.”

Harry closed his eyes, and while Pearl and Madam Medallion were still in the room, he faded into sleep.

———

Harry awoke to a weight on his chest and legs. He was also pretty sure Midha was grooming his hair. As he slowly opened his eyes, he spotted Howell on his chest and Serafina on his legs. Midha was definitely preening his hair.

“Hello everyone.”

Midha ceased what she was doing and made her way to his chest to peer at him. ^“You look well.”^

Harry nodded and gently moved his arm to brush her feathers. “I’m glad you’re here.”

~“No thanks to you. I’m all for independence, Harry, but we didn’t know where you were.”~

^“Leave him alone. We knew something might happen. He told us Luna would need his help. And what could he have done while unconscious?”^ Midha then turned to Harry. ^“Howell was worried.”^

Harry stroked his familiar with his other hand and apologized to them all for causing them distress. He told him about his hospital stay and long bouts of rest. They told him how Argo made time to collect them, which was especially fortunate because they had been considering going in search of him. They’d heard there was an explosion, and when he hadn’t shown up, they assumed he’d been involved.

~“Did you even think about us while in that human recovery structure?”~

~“Hospital.”~ Harry snorted.

~“Did you?”~

Harry inhaled deeply. ~“Not really, no. I’m sorry.”~

^“Tell him why, Harry.”^

~“I thought of you as being safe where you were. At first, I was focused on Luna and her mum. Then, I was dealing with Dumbledore’s bullshit. I was too tired to think everything through, but that’s not an excuse. I should have been more sensitive to you. Maybe I could’ve sent… I have no idea. Argo was with Luna. Narcissa and Draco were with me… I guess I could have asked Draco to—”~

~“Enough. Your self-judgment is not satisfying me.”~

^“What can Harry do to make this better for you, Howell?”^

~“I am better. Just don’t do that again.”~

~“I will try not to.”~

Howell bobbed his head lazily. ~“I suppose that will have to do.”~

Harry laughed and picked Howell up to plant a small kiss on his head. ~“I’m sorry. I would never choose to leave you behind.”~

~“Very well. Put me back down.~ Howell squirmed.

Once Howell was more settled, Serafina moved up and rested her head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey, Wild Girl.” Harry rubbed her flank. “I’m happy to see you too, but I need a favor.” Serafina tipped her head and pushed against him. “Could you please get Draco for me?” Serafina nuzzled his face and made her way out of the room.

In preparation for company, Howell repositioned himself, and Midha flew to a close perch. Harry did his best to sit up, feeling sluggish yet very hungry.

“Good morning, Harry. Are you ready for food?” Draco asked as soon as he entered the room.

“Merlin, yes! Please.”

“Thought so.” Draco chuckled and called for a house elf.

As Harry happily ate his food, Draco filled him in on what he’d missed. The newspapers were still talking about him, but they were holding themselves back. They were extracting as much excitement as they could without going overboard with the melodramatics.

Draco believed that Harry’s guardian would soon release an official update. Their friends had acknowledged the letters and were appreciative of the unvarnished news. The Weasleys had sent a “get well” basket with lots of chocolate sweets, much to the blond’s amusement, and Dumbledore was pushing to see Harry at Malfoy Manor.

“Suddenly, he’s ever so interested in knowing why Sirius Black hasn’t become your guardian.”

“Has Sirius reached out?” Harry asked measuredly.

“No, but I think he just wants to know that he’s better before he does.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry murmured.

“Hey, Harry, look at me.” Harry looked up and met Draco’s eyes. “Sirius knows you’re safe. He knows you have us too. The stronger he gets himself, the better prepared he’ll be to face Dumbledore. That’s why the headmaster is pushing for Sirius now, I bet. The headmaster wants to strike when he knows how affected Sirius must be from Azkaban. Dumbledore probably thinks he can manipulate Sirius’s worry to his advantage. Mother said that Sirius has access to the best healers, and on the continent, he’s not limited by the ministry, the newspapers, or Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. “I just wish that we could be in contact.”

“I know, but there’s a reason for it. Azkaban is—”

“I know.”

“And just like when you didn’t write to every one of your parents’ close friends…”

“Strategy.” Harry smiled.

“Strategy,” Draco echoed.

“Fuck, I hate feeling so feeble right now. It’s throwing me off.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Enjoy the reprieve. You’re not at St. Mungo’s, and Dumbledore didn’t succeed in forcing you to convalesce at the Dursleys or the Weasleys. And remember, you’re just a kid. The adults don’t see fit to update you on his shenanigans.”

Harry snorted. “Good point.”

“Yes, well. I am amazing.”

———

Harry arranged for “thank you” gifts to be sent to the Weasley family, including a muggle encyclopedia set. He apprised them that though he was feeling better, he would not be returning to the Burrow this summer. Harry softened the news by saying that their whole family would be invited to his birthday celebrations once arrangements were finalized.

Harry and Neville had decided to celebrate their birthday together, with the party being held at Longbottom Manor. The original plan was to have a small gathering, but with the unexpected need to invite the Weasleys, the party was opened up. The good news was that the celebration was always going to be a bit last minute, on any day convenient to them both. So, no one was offended by the relatively short notice.

Draco wasn’t pleased to see Hermione Granger on the guest list, but he was slightly mollified when Neville clarified that he had been the one to add her. Harry’s other anomalous pen pal, Cedric Diggory, was also included; though his invitation was more of a joint effort, the main reason also had to do with Neville. Cedric had been particularly helpful to the former Gryffindor after his re-sort.

The only name on the list that Harry did not expect to attend was Luna. He knew her attention was on much more important things, but Harry wanted her to know that she was welcome.

Draco had managed to get Harry to a professional quidditch game before his birthday and was ecstatic that Harry enjoyed himself. So, Draco resolved to fit in another game before the start of school.

When the day of the party arrived, Harry was eager to get there early. He wanted to meet Augusta Longbottom properly before everyone else showed up. She appreciated his efforts and expressed a desire to meet again under less distracting circumstances.

The guests arrived in a steady flow, and the “birthday boys” happily greeted everyone. Harry became better acquainted with some of Neville’s Hufflepuff friends, much to Neville’s delight. Partway through the celebration, Neville got everyone’s attention for an announcement.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I wanted to take a moment to tell you about a project I’ll be leading this school year.” Neville grinned at Harry, who sat up straighter. “It’s taken a lot of convincing, but the powers that be have finally agreed to allow the establishment of an interhouse greenhouse. Its purpose will not be educational but social. We’ll even be able to eat within its walls.”

“Yes!” Harry leapt up to hug Neville. “Brilliant news, Nev! When do we start?”

Neville laughed. “I was getting to that. Sit back down.” Neville gave Harry a playful push and continued. “Once we’re back, an official announcement will be made. Students will be asked to volunteer and provide design input. But I just had to share the news early.” There was a pause, and then Neville said, “I guess that’s it!”

Harry jumped up again and started clapping. The others followed suit, and several guests approached Neville with questions. Since Harry already knew a lot about the project, he returned to his seat and smiled fondly at Neville already taking charge.

A dreamy voice said, “Neville’s greenhouse will be spectacular.”

Harry whipped his head around. “Luna!” Harry was on his feet in a heartbeat to greet her, and Luna initiated a hug. She seemed small in his arms, and he instinctively held her tighter. “I didn’t think you’d make it, moonbeam.”

Luna pulled her head back and smiled at him, without letting go. “My mother will be waking up soon, and I thought you should know.”

“That’s wonderful, Luna. Will you come meet some of my friends?”

Harry introduced Luna to the Slytherins he’d been sitting with, and not surprisingly, Luna took an interest in Draco.

“Dragon, I’m grateful to you for looking after Harry in St. Mungo’s. Thanks to you, and your mother, of course, Argo knew it was safe to stay with me.” Then, she reached for his hand and leaned in close, as if to impart a great secret. “Aren’t mothers the best?”

Draco offered a small, genuine smile. “Yes, they are.”

Luna smiled brightly. “Slytherins, I want to thank you for the lovely map of Hogwarts. It’s very instructive. The castle will feel like an old friend now.”

“You got it?!” Pansy asked excitedly. Luna nodded. “I thought for sure Dumbledore would prevent them from going out.”

“I think he did try,” Luna whispered, and Pansy’s eyes widened.

Ginny and Ron approached the group; thankfully, Ginny spoke first. “Hi, Luna. How’s your mum?”

“Recovering nicely. Thank you for asking,” Luna responded simply. “We were just talking about the Hogwarts school map. What did you think?”

“Oh, I…” Ginny looked at Ron, who grimaced. Then, she cleared her throat. “I haven’t gotten a good look at it yet, but from all the stories I’ve heard from my brothers, it’ll be very useful to have. I’m sure of it.”

Fred spoke up, “What did you do with the map, Ron?”

“Nothing!” Ron’s intensity attracted a few extra pairs of eyes.

“If Ginny doesn’t have that map…” George started.

“… in pristine condition,” Fred continued.

“… by the end of the day,” George added.

“… there will be consequences,” Fred finished.

Ron gulped. “I was just looking at it.” Then, he gave Harry a dirty look. “You just had to make sure everyone knew you were the one behind it, didn’t you?”

Harry looked at Ron in confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Ronald.”

“The Slytherin emblem is everywhere,” Ron said coldly. Well, he tried to sound cold.

“Excuse you,” Pansy said. “There’s only one extra Slytherin crest, and it’s on the back.”

“Surely we’re allowed to take credit for our efforts,” Blaise stated silkily.

“It’s a Hogwarts map. Proceeds should go to Hogwarts,” Ron declared.

“No, it’s a map OF Hogwarts. Where the proceeds go is determined by the creators, and the creators are last year’s Slytherin students,” Theo said matter-of-factly.

“Group projects can be very productive,” Luna said airily.

“Yes, they can,” Harry agreed with her.

“Shut it, Potter,” Ron said. “This is just another way for Slytherins to pretend they’re better than everyone else.”

“Ronniekins, why are you so upset about this?” George asked.

“It’s not like you got a map with your Hogwarts letter this year,” Fred added.

“You could just ignore it,” the twins said together. Ron turned to where he thought Ginny would be; when he saw his sister wasn’t there, he stormed away.

“I don’t think he wants to ignore it.” Luna shook her head.

“So, Luna, which house do you think you’ll join?” Daphne asked, in an effort to change the subject to happier things.

“I’ll be in Ravenclaw,” Luna said genially.

“That’s great, Luna. Our group doesn’t have any representation from the Ravenclaws yet. You’re rounding us out already,” Harry said, and Luna grinned.

———

Two weeks before school began again, Knockturn Alley was shut down for “renovations.” It took many negotiations to bring the closure about, especially with businesses off of the alley, like those on Cottonwood Lane. Deals were made to ensure no shop suffered too greatly from the shutdown.

Since the renovations were scheduled, shops took precautions and alerted customers ahead of time. Even with notice, however, the media made a spectacle of the temporary stoppage. This had the benefit of drawing more people to Diagon Alley to see the closed-off Knockturn entrance for themselves. Plenty of wixes decided to spread out their shopping to have a reason to visit Diagon again when Knockturn reopened.

The planned improvements were real, but they were also a cover for an elaborate land-based ritual. Alterations thus far were much simpler, like spruced-up window displays and painted signage. These were more of a “proof of concept” for the deliberating shopkeepers, who had needed evidence that the aspiring stewards were genuine in their desire to refresh — not dismantle — Knockturn Alley and its chosen character.

Following the ritual, plans were in place to refurbish what the shifting magic would not touch. The repair needs could only be predicted. But regardless of how much work would be needed, the closure dates would not change. The schedule was imperative to protecting the alley and its secrets. Degrees of knowledge had been established. And everyone involved or affected was moving forward with the respect the situation demanded.

It had been decided that an underground ritual chamber would be created for the benefit of Knockturn Alley. That way, individual shop owners would never have to take on the burden of revitalizing the bond with the land themselves, in their own above-ground store.

Finishing touches for the underground chamber took place on the day Knockturn Alley closed to the general public. The day after, the ritual participants convened in the ceremonial space.

———

The goblins led the ritual. Their knowledge of ancient customs and land affinity were instrumental to achieving the sought-after stewardship. The goblins surrounded Harry, Lucius, and Severus, who had taken their place within a drawn circle. The exact mixture was unknown, but it included herbs and seeds.

As the goblins chanted, the three aspiring stewards laid hands on each other’s forearms and joined in. The building energy was palpable and just when the pressure was feeling too intense for Harry, a luminous figure appeared beside them.

“You may stop,” the figure stated firmly. The chanting instantly ceased. “So, after all this time, you seek the renewal of the ancient communions? Why? Are you now displeased with the sporadic nature of my presence?”

Lucius answered, “We only recently learned that such a bond existed. The practice of such magic has fallen out of favor, and the shop owners were hesitant to increase the lawmakers’ mistrust of the area.”

The figure hummed. “I can protect from much, but against what you humans do to each other, I am less equipped.” The figure turned to Harry. “You are young.” Harry nodded. “You are here of your own volition?”

“Yes. May I ask your name?”

The figure looked amused. “I am Noctu. This place used to be called ‘Noctu’s Alley,’ but over time, it became ‘Knockturn Alley.’ I do not mind. Things change, and perhaps it is best to not remind your world of my true name, given these denouncers you speak of.” The figure turned to Severus. “You seek to better the health and wellbeing of your people. I like that.” Noctu surveyed the outer circle of goblins. “Wizards working with goblins.” Noctu hummed. “This is my chamber, is it?”

“This chamber was built to circumvent the changes around us, should it continue to be or become more difficult to sustain these traditions. We built it in pursuit of reestablishing the bond with you. We seek to become the stewards of this land. We represent the occupants and visitors to your alley,” Lucius said.

“With their permission?” Noctu asked.

“Yes,” Lucius confirmed.

“I would like to get a sense of you. Will you allow me in your circle?”

“How do we let you in without breaking the circle?” Harry asked.

Noctu smiled mysteriously. “You need only agree, and I will do the rest.”

Harry looked at the others and seeing their support, nodded and said, “Yes, Noctu. We agree to allow you in our circle.” Noctu then seemed to become a type of mist and entered their very beings. Harry gasped, Severus tensed, and Lucius’s eyes goggled. None of them knew how long it lasted, but when it was done, Noctu reappeared beside them.

“I believe you will make good stewards. Now, please continue your chant and spill blood within your smallest circle. I shall provide the wardstone. I like visits, Stewards. So, please, do not disappoint me.” Then, Noctu was gone, and the chanting resumed.

When the magic swelled again, Harry, Lucius, and Severus were moved to drag their ritual daggers across the palms of their own hands. Their blood flowed down and into the land.

At Lucius’s nod, Harry started the vows. “We promise to honor you and strive to be worthy of your bounty…”

Lucius added, “We promise to protect the beings of this land and respect the visitors who seek to share in your richness…”

Severus continued, “We welcome your guidance and promise to maintain the bonds that make us whole.”

Together, they concluded, “This we promise with our blood and our magic.” As soon as they finished speaking, a large quartz appeared between them, and it glowed with life and magic.

Harry reached out and touched it with his now healed hand, marveling at the wardstone’s presence. “Thank you, Noctu.”

“Yes, thank you, Noctu.” Lucius smiled.

Harry stood up and stretched his back. “That was intense, huh? Who’s hungry?” He stepped out of the circle and went to talk to one of the goblins.

Severus looked at Harry and then turned to Lucius. “He’s growing up so differently, and he has no clue.”

Lucius laughed. “Yes. He just participated in an ancient land-based ritual, and to him, it’s just another day of summer. I bet he’s trying to get the goblins to join us for the feast.”

“They just might.”

———

Immediately following the ritual, there was a large feast to celebrate Knockturn Alley’s new beginnings. Every shopkeeper present was fully aware that a covenant had been entered into on their behalf. But, for their protection, the details were unknown. Most didn’t know who any of the stewards were or think they’d even be present.

On the surface, the feast was a jubilation as well as a “meet and greet” to foster the once-endemic sense of community. Shop owners “off of the alley,” like Kylene, and those of Cottonwood Lane were also invited. And everyone was welcome to bring family and friends too, which is how Harry and Draco could justify being there.

Snape also attended. His presence could easily be justified, but with Dumbledore, Snape had to walk a tightrope. Harry didn’t want to think too much about how Snape would conceal his participation or, if necessary, describe the revelry to the troublesome busybody. For the moment, the third steward was laughing, and that was of greater consequence.

The feast was more significantly about giving thanks to and harmonizing with Noctu. Merriment on her land not only pleased her, but it gave Noctu a better sense of the community's ambitions and desires. Freely flowing joviality and magic was all that was required, and it felt great.

People dined and danced. They laughed and swapped stories. And surrounding the conviviality was magic. The air crackled with it.

By morning, the alley would look different, and they would know which changes were still necessary. Soon after, an entirely reinvigorated Knockturn Alley would welcome the public anew.

———

Harry and Draco arranged to do some of their school shopping on the day Knockturn Alley reopened. They had arranged to meet up with some of their friends, including Fred and George Weasley. Before meeting with them, however, Harry dragged Draco into Beautiful Things. He wanted to place an order and say “hi” to Jerome.

“Harry! Oh, and Heir Malfoy, what brings you two here today?”

“I want to pick up more of those heavy-duty handkerchiefs,” Harry said cheerfully.

Beautiful Things already had a line of impressive kerchiefs, but quill-writing and potions-brewing took enough of a toll on Harry’s hands for him to want better options. It wasn’t because he was a beginner either because Snape’s fingers had seemed permanently inked. Harry had expressed his frustration to Jerome, and his ramblings about “color catching” — “Is there a magical black that can actively absorb color?” — led to a new line of more advanced handkerchiefs. But they hadn't decided on a name.

“We are not calling them ‘heavy-duty,’ Harry,” Jerome said.

Draco snorted. “Tissu firme, perhaps?”

“Closer. I take it your Professor Snape approves,” Jerome said knowingly. The boys chuckled in response.

“Reluctantly, but yes. Just to be on the safe side, though, I’ll get him the plainest ones possible,” Harry said.

“Absolutely not. Come, I know just the ones to get him.”

Harry left the shop with a lovely collection of handkerchiefs for Snape, an embroidered shawl for Narcissa, and a black leather cuff for Lucius.

“You do realize that now I have to get them something too, don’t you?” Draco drawled.

Harry laughed and flung his arm around the blond’s shoulders. “Don’t be silly. I can say it’s from the both of us.”

“I was there,” Draco said pensively.

“See, it’s sorted. Now, let’s go collect your mother and meet our friends.”

Chapter Text

“Where have you been? I want to see Knockturn,” Pansy said, by way of greeting, as soon as she spotted Harry and Draco.

The blond snorted. “Hello to you too, Pansy.” She rolled her eyes. “We need more supervision before that happens. Give it a moment. Mother was just behind us.”

“Hey!” George popped up excitedly.

“We brought Bill!” Fred exclaimed. He was just behind his twin and walking beside the eldest Weasley brother, who waved.

“My mother is just over there.” Blaise pointed to a stunning woman, who was chatting with a shop attendant. “She said to collect her when the strolling begins.”

“I am encouraged that you children won’t be roaming about alone. I’ve never seen such large crowds in the alleys,” Bill said.

“We aren’t alone now either. There’s my father.” Pansy indicated a tall man standing nearby, who was talking with someone Harry couldn’t see. The man looked up to smile warmly at his daughter.

Narcissa soon joined them. “Ah, Mr. Weasley, hello. Will you be joining us on our tour of Knockturn Alley?”

“Yes, Lady Malfoy.”

“Lovely. Three adults should suffice, I think.” She nodded in three directions, silently releasing others from their watch, and then said, “Let’s go and get Blaise’s mother and be off.”

Harry thought Blaise’s mother was insanely cool. Lady Lira Zabini was unexpectedly easy to talk to, too. So much about her screamed wealth and power, but she seemed so grounded. Harry got the impression that she was exceptionally adaptable and would be just as comfortable navigating a local pub as she would be commanding a great, lavish hall.

Blaise whispered near Harry’s ear, “Don’t let her fool you, Harry. My mother is vicious.”

Harry’s eyes glittered. “Oh, that’s obvious, but she’s so cool about it.”

“And another one falls…”

“I think you misunderstand your friend, son.” Lady Zabini’s eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement.

So fucking cool.

“He admires my qualities as something to aspire to. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Absolutely.” Harry nodded.

Lady Zabini reached a finger towards Harry’s cheek and caressed it. “Such a sweet face. Your enemies won’t see you coming,” she said conspiratorially. Harry beamed, and Blaise groaned.

———

The group stopped for lunch at a restaurant off Knockturn Alley called The Rebel’s Moon. As they sat down, Narcissa declared that the meal was on her, and Harry noticed the Weasley twins’ shoulders relax. He had not expected them to be so nervous about money with their older brother around, but Harry knew better than to ask questions. Harry understood the kind of wariness that stemmed from limited funds.

The Rebel’s Moon had been in the area for a long time, but there had never been a proper sign or plentiful seating options. That changed during the renovation period. People who had already appreciated the food were delighted, but most visitors thought the restaurant was brand new.

The menu offered a good variety, particularly for groups that included children. Harry appreciated Narcissa’s forethought in selecting such a welcoming place and looked forward to his burger and fries.

Harry ate contentedly as he listened to the others discussing their impressions of the new Knockturn Alley. The other children had grown up with the cautionary tales, which had effectively dissuaded them from even thinking about exploring the alley. They knew not to walk into the area unaccompanied until they were fully trained adults, if at all. Anyone known to “frequent the alley” was labeled suspicious; they were never to be underestimated.

The idea was easy to laugh at now, but Harry did not doubt that Knockturn had seen truly dark times and deeds. He didn’t have to know the entire history or reputation of the alley to know this. The reason being that darkness comes in many forms and can be found in all kinds of places: why would Knockturn have been any different?

Nevertheless, people didn’t have to put up with or “just accept” undesirable darkness. And neither did they have to tolerate any labeling that they did not agree with. Not everything that was marked as “dark” was the kind of dark that schemed to ruin a person or society. Distorting the meaning of the word and conflating “dark” with destruction had harmed magic.

That’s how Harry was starting to see the ministry and the likes of Dumbledore. Inadvertently or not, they were running roughshod over the very essence of magic in pursuit of their “light” agenda. Their methods had literally suppressed magical knowledge and crushed a magical community. And what gave them the right? Not all that was “light” was pure and perfect. To Harry’s mind, “light” could just as easily corrupt a soul.

Consequently, Harry felt heartily honored to have helped create a safer, more pleasant place in the world — one where magic could thrive.

“So, Mr. Weasley, what did you make of Knockturn’s changes?” Narcissa asked Bill.

“It’s impressive. I never would’ve guessed it would be resuscitated. I thought the alley would ultimately be gutted and outfitted with entirely different shops. I don’t know how they’ve managed it, but even Borgin & Burkes had a welcoming appearance.”

“Change is inevitable. It’s inspiring to see what the shop owners have achieved. They’ve done more than meet its challenge,” Lady Zabini said.

“They have struck a favourable balance too. It would’ve been a shame to lose access to the less common magics that many of these shops still work with,” Bill said.

“I agree with you, Mr. Weasley. It would have been a terrible loss indeed,” Narcissa said.

“Please call me Bill. I meant to say it sooner, and I apologize for not doing so.”

Narcissa acknowledged him with a delicate nod. “Then you must call me Narcissa. Your younger brothers have already gained permission.” She smiled warmly at the twins, who smiled broadly around mouthfuls of food.

The conversation continued. The topics naturally shifted and expanded, which is how they ended up talking about Bill’s role at Gringotts. He was “still training” to be a curse-breaker. That’s how Bill saw it anyway. He was allowed to do many things on his own, but it was a complex field of study, and Gringotts was known for their exacting standards. The goblins believed that there was always something that was “rarely seen,” and the moment a curse-breaker assumed that they “knew it all” was when injury — or worse — followed.

Gringotts categorized their curse-breakers by knowledge level and years of experience. The levels were: novice, apprentice, trainee, expert, instructor, and mentor. The years of experience began to accumulate at the trainee level following a minimum of 6 months as a novice and two years as an apprentice. There were other ways to become a curse-breaker, some more academically based and others far too slapdash. But Gringotts was among the best, and the on-the-job training style meant that learners could start earning money sooner.

The twins filled in much of Bill’s story, claiming that he was far too modest. Bill was a Gringotts trainee with zero completed years of experience, but he could technically go into business for himself at this stage because Gringotts standards were that advanced. They only accepted a few wixes into their program, and they were never “actively recruiting.” Gringotts could go years without accepting any new novices. Bill had impressed them, though, and to Harry, that made Bill’s insights into the Knockturn’s changes particularly valuable.

“I never understood why people thought Knockturn Alley was cursed. In my opinion, that was never the energy it gave off. It struck me more as neglected. Of course, there are those who would have exploited its formerly shadowy nature, but it’s too limiting to dismiss magic that isn’t ‘solely light’ as ‘dark’ or ‘black’ or even ‘malevolent.’” Bill suddenly noticed young, impressionable eyes, and he smiled sheepishly. “I apologize. I can get carried away.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Bill,” Narcissa said. “I think the children are just astonished that you are speaking so freely.”

The children nodded in confirmation, and Theo added, “I find it frustrating how little we learn in school. For those of us who are curious, we’ll likely explore beyond what is presented, but what about those who take what is given as the bulk of what they ought to know? I think that institutionalized ignorance is the number one cause of older magics falling out of favor.”

“We mustn’t forget the curious who lack your conviction, Theo. Many do not know where to begin their search, and others are more easily discouraged,” Lady Zabini said.

“There are also books with incomplete information. Harry tried to learn about basilisks in the Hogwarts library, and the book he read claimed that there weren’t any left at all,” Draco said.

Harry nodded. “I didn’t think I needed to ask someone else. I’d like to know where they are and how they’re doing. How can information be hard to come by? That book needed more details on the page to be worthy of shelf space.”

“Or its binding,” Theo said exasperatedly.

Bill smiled approvingly and looked at his brothers. “I see you two have finally found fellow rebels, huh?”

The twins grinned. “Yes, we have!”

Bill laughed and ruffled George’s hair. Fred playfully bent his head for ruffles too, and their brother obliged.

———

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was having a very bad day. He’d just returned from Diagon Alley and was angrily pacing. Witches and wizards were flocking to Knockturn Alley and strolling beyond its core to explore side streets. The headmaster didn’t understand how they could not see that the stores were fundamentally the same. Everything that was dark was still dark, just with shinier windows. He’d even seen Bill Weasley walking with the likes of Narcissa Malfoy and Lira Zabini! Dumbledore resolved to speak with Molly and Arthur soon.

The school year would soon begin again, and because of the upheaval with the missing artifacts and Quirrell’s death, he’d had to completely delegate many of the tasks he would normally oversee.

Dumbledore was disappointed to learn that Minerva had approved of, ordered, and sent the maps of Hogwarts to the first-years. She hadn’t even objected to the Slytherin house proprietary markings! Now, everyone would soon know that Slytherin had addressed this “need.” Dumbledore saw getting to know the castle as a rite of passage. The castle’s wonder would live on far longer if the students had to discover for themselves all that Hogwarts had to offer. Unfortunately for the headmaster, the staff did not agree.

There was also the matter of the greenhouse project he’d been blocking. He would now be forced to announce that an interhouse meeting place would be established, led by and for the students. The headmaster wasn’t entirely opposed to the mingling of the houses, but he thought it needed careful monitoring. Certain students needed to be kept away from others for the good of the school — and the good of the community! It was his job to manage the influences, and he did that best within the castle walls.

Dumbledore only barely avoided an evaluation of the school wards. They had not presented options that the headmaster was comfortable with, but he assured the ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Governors that he would personally assess the wards throughout the year. Then, they could revisit the topic over the next summer with increased sensibility.

On this matter too, the headmaster’s staff did not agree. Minerva privately told him that he was being stubborn and short-sighted.

Dumbledore was currently waiting impatiently for Severus so that they might discuss the Potter problem.

Finally, Dumbledore thought as he was alerted of Snape’s arrival. “Severus! It’s good to see you. What news do you bring?”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “Headmaster, there is no news. As I have said, it is not the Malfoys that are denying you a visit with the boy. His guardian does not approve.”

“That is most suspicious, Severus. Who could this guardian be to disapprove of me?”

“With respect, Headmaster, I think they disapprove because of what they have witnessed in the recording orbs. Mr. Potter’s guardian is not the only one that is upset with you at present.”

“Yes.” Dumbledore shifted the paperwork on his desk. “Augusta Longbottom is also upset with me. I could not secure an invitation to Mr. Potter’s and Mr. Longbottom’s birthday party.”

“It goes far beyond that, Albus.”

Dumbledore waved the comment away. “And what of your benefactor, Severus? Did they agree to meet with me?”

“They will not.”

Dumbledore slapped his desk. “Someone is working against me, my boy. I can feel it.”

“If that is the case, Headmaster, then perhaps it is time to be above reproach. Will you not rethink the ward work?”

“Severus! They want me to cede control. If I do not hold the wards, how will I protect the school?”

“As the staff understands it, the proposal means that Hogwarts itself will hold most of its wards. However, they’d need to do a more thorough investigation—”

“And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it?! If they have access, what else would they change? No, Severus. It is my responsibility to preserve Hogwarts’ independence from the ministry, and working with the goblins is unwise.”

“Then, will you at least consider allowing the staff to research and explore rituals—”

“Severus! Many are borderline dark!”

“For fuck’s sake, Albus. Then why are we even talking about any of this? Many of your staff have had quite enough of this illusion of consultation.”

“Severus, you are overreaching,” Dumbledore said oppressively.

Snape snorted testily. “Perhaps you’re right, Headmaster. What would a lowly professor know of school wards and how one comes across to others? When you want to discuss something that I am allowed to have a view on, do let me know.”

Snape walked smoothly out of the office; his face never displayed the surprise he felt over speaking those words aloud. Dumbledore, stunned silent, watched him go.

“I do believe that you underestimate your staff, Albus,” the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black said.

Dumbledore sneered. “Do shut up!”

Phineas smirked cruelly. Dumbledore disliked most of the headmasters, but he thought Black was uniquely detestable. The former headmaster was resistant to persuasion and had an indecipherable code of ethics. Dumbledore, thinking he understood the man well, had miscalculated his interactions with the portrait. Instead of gaining the upper hand, Black had toyed with him! The portrait learned far more quickly than most that Dumbledore was not as light as he portrayed himself.

The headmaster had not given up, however. He was determined to find a way to make the portrait agreeable because Dumbledore had a role for Black to play.

Another portrait, Headmaster Armando Dippit, said, “Come now, Albus. Why wouldn’t you want the wards strengthened? In my day—”

“Enough!” Dumbledore picked up a stack of parchment and walked into his private quarters. He didn’t notice or care that he’d left behind a roomful of portraits shaking their heads in disapproval.

———

Soon it was time to return to Hogwarts. Draco was excited to get back and try out for the quidditch team, but Harry was wishing that the summer holiday would last a little longer.

The Malfoys and Snape had been happy with their gifts; though this pleased Harry, he still felt like his expression was incomplete. He wanted them to know how grateful he was to have them in his life.

For so long, imagining such a closeness with anyone was useless: there were far more immediate concerns, and Harry convinced himself that company was unnecessary. And perhaps it is when you only look at life, for one reason or another, from the “barest of necessities” perspective. Harry didn’t want to do that, and fortunately, he didn’t have to either.

Not anymore and never again.

Harry hoped that Snape and the Malfoys understood how much he valued them even if he did not know how to fully communicate it. And if not, then he hoped that he could make it clear to them someday.

———

Harry said his goodbyes to Argo with a box of doughnuts and a thermos. Argo gave him a funny look but seemed tickled nonetheless.

“You’ll have to let me know which ones you prefer.”

“Why? You won’t want one.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to eat doughnuts to buy the ones you prefer. Please try to remember that your goal to make bars I like is self-imposed. If you abandon the quest, I’ll be completely fine with it.” Harry patted Argo’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Argo. When I’m allowed access to Hogsmeade, we’ll have to meet up during the school year.”

“You are ridiculous,” Argo said fondly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry smiled.

———

Once on Platform 9 ¾, Harry looked up at Narcissa entreatingly. “Will you do me a favor and invite Jerome to lunch soon? He sounded different in his last letter. I think maybe the influx of customers has gotten to him.”

Narcissa placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll gladly check in on him. He probably just needs some time to speak freely. Not all customers are as friendly as you are.”

“Thank you.” Harry exhaled and looked at Lucius. “You’ll keep me updated, right? Even if you have to include it with Draco’s letter? Or maybe I could have Midha wait for a reply when I send letters to you?” Harry’s face contorted in thought. “Why didn’t we think of getting connected notebooks?”

“Harry.” It was Lucius’s turn to rest calming hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I will get us linked journals as soon as I can.”

Harry smiled with relief. “Okay, good. I like that plan.” Harry faced Draco. “Are you ready?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ve been ready. You’re the one going through the final administrative details.”

“Draco, eyes,” Narcissa said automatically. “Come give me one last hug before the masses arrive.” Draco stepped forward and hugged his mother tightly. Then, he stepped carefully into his father’s personal space.

Lucius placed his hands on either side of Draco’s face. “I’ll miss you, son.”

Draco’s face glowed. “I’ll miss you too, Father.”

“You boys look after yourselves and each other,” Narcissa said. “Now, get on the train before you make my eyes water.” Harry reached for her hand and squeezed it before letting go and walking away. Draco smiled brightly and joined Harry. Narcissa put her arm through her husband’s and exhaled slowly through her mouth. “Lucius, the summer holidays should be longer. If that man attempts another shutdown…”

“I will storm the school and collect the boys myself.”

“You are a very good husband.”

———

The train was already moving towards Hogwarts with the usual Slytherins in a compartment when there was a knock on the door. Pansy stood up and opened the door to find Luna on the other side.

“Hello,” Luna said dreamily. “I need help with my trunk. May I come in?” Pansy nodded and moved aside. Luna glided in with her luggage in tow.

“Hi, Luna. What’s wrong with your trunk?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, but it needs protection. Some of my housemates will find it funny to take my shoes. I like being barefoot but not because I have no other choice.”

“Will find?” Theo repeated probingly.

Daphne elbowed him. “We’ve discussed this, Theo. Luna seems to be the intuitive type.”

“That’s a lovely way of putting it. Thank you, Daphne.”

“What kind of protections are you interested in, Luna?” Blaise asked.

“I know you’ve all been researching and practicing. But I think simple parsel-wards will do. Best to stay away from blood wards in case a clever claw figures it out.”

“Harry, did you…?” Draco whispered, and Harry shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Dragon. I’m an outstanding secret keeper, and everyone here knows about Harry’s parseltongue ability. And doesn’t Harry just seem like a ‘snake guy’?” Luna turned knowing eyes on Harry. “Telling the matching pair* will be alright. Showing is better, though. More privacy. Too many listeners.”

“Luna, are you going to be okay at Hogwarts?” Pansy asked.

“Eventually.”

The Slytherins did not like the sound of that. So, they channeled their concerns into securing Luna’s trunk and her most precious belongings.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Thank you. I’m going to go exploring now. See you at Hogwarts,” Luna said before drifting out as serenely as she’d arrived.

“Do you think students can improve the wards? There really should be wards that protect students from bullying. I’m not saying that every little thing should be reported, but left unaddressed, it escalates. What is the point of all the portraits if they don’t report what matters?” Theo asked.

“Rituals during certain holidays, maybe, but what if that horrible man were to find out?” Pansy said.

“If the wards improve and he notices, what could he attribute that to if not a ritual?” Theo asked earnestly.

“Rumor has it that there will be fundraising opportunities now that Professor Snape is being sponsored by a generous benefactor. If one of those events were to happen on an auspicious day, a concurrent ritual could be performed, and maybe the headmaster would attribute any changes to the event itself,” Daphne said.

“I think he’d sooner suspect a guest of tampering with the wards,” Harry said. “He’s unlikely to allow such an event anyway. If Hogwarts hasn’t celebrated Professor Snape by now, it’s not happening.”

“Ah, you cynical boy. The rumors started recently, coinciding with Dumbledore’s attempts to minimize his role in the missing artifacts debacle—”

“Don’t forget the dead professor,” Pansy interrupted.

“Ah, yes. I should have said, ‘…the missing artifacts and hidden murder debacle.’ What more could one wish for in a boarding school? Back to the possibilities for better. My guess is that it’s McGonagall who wants to explore the fundraising opportunities,” Daphne said.

“How will that help? The fiasco is still ongoing,” Pansy said.

“How should I know? I’m thinking aloud here…” Daphne said impatiently.

“There’s potential there, I think,” Draco said. “We just have to stay alert and prepare for opportunities that may arise.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” Daphne said.

“I’ll research,” Theo said. Harry hummed in thought.

Blaise added, “I’ll write to my mother.”

“You know,” Pansy said, “the greenhouse project could offer the perfect cover for a land-based ritual.”

Draco and Harry exchanged a brief look. The blond didn’t know the specifics of the Knockturn Alley ritual, but he had heard the then-aspiring stewards discuss the possibility of land-based rituals. And Draco was far from stupid.

He knows way too much, doesn’t he? Harry worried.

“And Neville is very skilled in Herbology…” Theo said.

“Augusta Longbottom is a traditionalist…” Draco added.

“In plain view. That’s bold… I think I like it,” Harry said.

“Look at that! We are learning something from that megalomaniac after all,” Pansy said, and Harry snorted before the train compartment filled with laughter.

———

Harry thought the welcoming feast was fairly interesting, but the sorting process itself was hardly the reason. He liked seeing the excited group of first-year Slytherins huddled over the school map. Harry wondered if they were proud that their house created it.

Beyond clapping for Luna’s Ravenclaw placement and acknowledging the new Slytherins, Harry wasn’t particularly interested in the sorting. The new students were and would likely continue to be strangers to him. He did, however, internally shudder at Ginny’s placement. He hoped that she’d make a more courteous Gryffindor than her youngest brother.

The announcements were the more interesting part of the ceremony. Dumbledore announced the greenhouse project, and Harry was certain he could detect a hint of disapproval. Then, the headmaster’s final words on the matter clinched it: “Remember to be cautious when working with students from the other houses.”

To everyone’s surprise, the deputy headmistress then stood up with some announcements of her own. After offering greetings to all, the core of Mistress McGonagall’s speech began.

“The Hogwarts teaching staff was delighted with the level of enthusiasm last year’s study groups inspired. Therefore, we’ve decided to expand on this concept and offer a lecture series. Some have already been arranged, and we are open to adding more. Over the next couple of weeks, you can expect more information about the dates, topics, and lecturers. If anyone has any recommendations or interests they’d like to share, please do so. You may speak with me or your head of house.

“Now, as many of you know, the original catalyst for supplementary learning was Professor Snape’s participation in last year’s Restorative Research contest, commanded by St. Mungo’s. It has become blisteringly evident that cooperation with people and institutions beyond these castle walls cannot be underestimated. Through collaboration, we can be better. We can be stronger. And we might even achieve our goals faster.

“To that end, we will also be making changes to the quidditch season. Captains will see me for further discussion, but this year, the quidditch games will be open to parents and former students. Tickets to the events will be sold to qualifying guests, and proceeds will support complementary experiences here at Hogwarts. So, please bear this in mind when deciding whether to try out for your house quidditch teams. You will not only be representing your house but also our school.”

———

After the feast, Harry tried to talk to Luna. “Hey, Luna. Congratulations on your placement.”

“Thank you, Harry. What do you make of all the changes? It sounds exciting to me.”

“I like—”

“Oi, Potter!” Ron rudely interrupted.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Luna, I’ll see you soon. You can come to me for anything, okay?”

Luna smiled and reached for his hand. “I know. Thank you, Harry.” Then, she walked away.

“Potter! I am talking to you.”

Ron was getting closer, and Harry was overcome with the desire to punch him in the face. Breathe, Harry.

“Potter!” Ron extended his arm as Harry turned around. Fortunately, this meant that the Gryffindor didn’t make physical contact.

“What is it, Ronald? It’s a little too early in the year to be drawing a crowd, don’t you think?”

“You think you’re too good to talk to me?”

“I was trying to talk to Luna, Ronald. I’m sure you saw us.”

“What are you talking to her for? She’s a—”

“Don’t say whatever it is you want to say, Ronald,” Harry said warningly.

“What do you care what I call her? Who is she to you? Is she your girlfriend?” Ron said “girlfriend” with exaggerated slowness, and then he laughed as if he’d made a hilarious joke. Harry just stared at him. “Oh, Merlin! She is! Isn’t she? Is that why you spent so much time with her over the summer? But you didn’t like her enough to visit her in the hospital, did you? Trying to end it gently?”

Harry looked heavenward and then faced Ron stonily. “What did you want to say, Ronald?”

Ron blinked in astonishment. “Are you gonna try out for quidditch? With the extra-large crowds, I bet you’re eager to show off.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said and then moved to walk away.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You think quidditch is beneath you too? Or maybe you just aren’t good enough anymore?”

“I don’t know, Ronald, because I haven’t spoken to the quidditch captain yet. I don’t know her plans for the year. Will that answer suffice? Will you leave me alone now? Or do you want us to march up to the captain right now and demand to know her plans for tryouts and team building?” Harry then stepped forward, and Ron stepped back before thinking better of it and puffing out his chest. “I am sick of you thinking you are entitled to know anything about me, Ronald. The sooner you learn to keep your mouth shut around me, the happier everyone will be. These public tantrums are getting old.” Ron pulled out his wand, and Harry snorted derisively. “Are you going to curse me now? In front of everyone?” Harry flung out his arms and stepped back. “Go ahead.” Harry stared at Ron unflinchingly.

Ron’s upper lip twitched, and he gripped his wand harder. “You’re not worth it!” Harry’s only response was a small smirk. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“This isn’t over,” Ron whispered.

“Pity,” Harry said. Then, Ron lunged but didn’t get very far. His brothers held him back by his robes.

“Enough, Ron,” Fred said.

“Let’s get you to the tower,” George said.

“You traitors! Why are you protecting him?” The twins yanked him harder.

Snape approached. “Mr. Potter, the headmaster would like a word.”

“Now? Can we not welcome the first-years in peace?”

“It would appear not.”

“Fine.” Harry sought out Draco. “Draco, please take Howell.” Harry pulled an angry and reluctant Howell from his robes and passed him to Draco.

“And your bag?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re right. Fuck.”

“Language,” Draco said, while Snape pretended not to hear.

“And could you let the new snakes know that this shit is actually pretty common? I don’t want them to freak out.”

“Language, but yes,” Draco said, nudging Serafina in Harry’s direction.

“Come along, Wild Girl.” Harry stroked her head before exiting the hall.

———

Snape and Harry walked up to the headmaster’s office in silence until something occurred to Harry.

“Sir, where’s Mistress McGonagall?”

“She went ahead to the tower, without Mr. Weasley, to welcome the first-years properly. She’ll meet us by the gargoyle. We will not proceed without her.”

Harry nodded. “Sir, why did no one intervene? That interaction lasted way too long.”

“The headmaster wanted you to have a chance to resolve your differences for yourselves. I don’t believe you noticed, but Professor McGonagall was not the only head of house to continue as planned.”

“It’s upsetting that the first-year Slytherins are being denied a warmer welcome.”

“They’ll be fine. It’s useful for them to see the dynamics firsthand.”

“Glad to be of service, then,” Harry said sardonically.

“Breathe, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded and focused on his breathing for the rest of the ascent. Serafina sauntered supportively beside him. Once at the gargoyle, they had to wait a little longer for McGonagall. Harry was inclined to think that was deliberate.

“Hello, gentlemen and Serafina. Should we press forward?”

“If we must,” Harry mumbled.

“Mr. Potter, before the next climb, I want to commend you for how well you handled Mr. Weasley. I was informed that after much provocation, you did not shout or draw your wand. Such composure is admirable. In future, however, I do not want you to feel pressure to delay self-defense. Your safety is important too.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” Harry smiled softly.

The group moved up the final flight in composed silence. When they arrived at the headmaster’s office, all three noticed Dumbledore’s look of displeasure. Ignoring his glare, Snape set up the recording device.

When no one offered greetings or apologies, the headmaster asked, “May I know the reason for the delay?”

“The delay was due to it being the first day of term, Albus. I was busy welcoming the Gryffindor first-years, as you well know. And I ask that you keep this meeting short since Professor Snape has had to postpone the Slytherin welcome entirely.”

“In my opinion, Minerva, you are not needed for this meeting,” Dumbledore said. No one bothered to reply, leaving the headmaster alone in the advancement of his plan. “Mr. Potter, I’m disappointed to find cause to call you into my office so early in the year. I had hoped time at the Weasley’s home this summer would have softened your feelings towards poor Ron.” Harry snorted. “Is this funny, Mr. Potter?” Harry shook his head. “Verbal responses, Mr. Potter.”

“This isn’t hysterical, but it is a little funny,” Harry said neutrally.

“Excuse me?” Dumbledore said, but Harry remained silent. “This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Potter. Your continued efforts to alienate poor Ron” — Harry suppressed another snort — “are most disconcerting. I grow increasingly concerned about the influences in your life, Mr. Potter. To be this resistant to someone who simply wants to extend his hand in friendship.”

Friendship?! For fuck’s sake…

“Albus, I will ask you again. Why do you insist on pushing these two students together? Mr. Potter and Mr. Ron Weasley are not disposed towards friendship.”

Dumbledore frowned but ignored the question. “Mr. Potter, your treatment of Ron has made him unpopular in his house. You are an influential young man, perhaps more so than you realize. It is unkind to use your position to hurt others.”

McGonagall had heard enough. “Headmaster Dumbledore, this will be your last meeting with Mr. Potter.”

Dumbledore whipped his head around to face McGonagall. “You have no right—”

“I have every right. These students are under our care, and it is our job to protect them. Mr. Potter does not like Mr. Ronald Weasley and for good reason.”

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said reprovingly.

“No, Headmaster. I have warned you. I have made every attempt to discuss this issue with you. I am the deputy headmistress, and such matters fall under my purview as much as they do yours. Mr. Potter has articulated a preference to meet with me instead of you. His guardian supports that change, and quite frankly, Headmaster, other students and parents are also communicating their misgivings.”

“Minerva.” Dumbledore stood, and his eyes sparked with irritation.

“I will be filing an official complaint with the board of governors, Headmaster. I have grown too wary of your conduct, as you well know.” A lengthy staring contest followed before anyone spoke again.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Minerva. I hope you understand that I will have no choice but to respond in kind via the formal route you have chosen.”

McGonagall held firm and nodded curtly. “Come along, Mr. Potter, Severus. There’s still much to do tonight.”

Professor Snape put away the recording device and moved towards the exit, but before reaching the door, Dumbledore said, “When you have concluded your duties, Severus, I would like a word.”

When the group was past the gargoyle, McGonagall looked at Harry. “I will be writing to your guardian, Mr. Potter. Is there anyone you would like included in the correspondence?”

“Oh, uh…” Harry reached down to pet an agitated Serafina. “Madam Medallion of Gringotts and the Malfoy family. Thank you.”

“The ‘thanks’ is unnecessary, but you’re welcome. Now, when I request meetings with you in my capacity as the deputy headmistress, please remember to bring a second teacher. I wish to be treated with the same formality that you set up with Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“As you wish, but…” Harry considered Snape before refocusing on McGonagall. “I suggest that you request copies of my previous meetings to help support your official complaint with the board.”

“That is generous of you, Mr. Potter. I will take it under advisement. Now, please, continue to the dungeons. Your housemates are no doubt eager for an update.”

“Yes, except there’s one more thing…” Harry again looked at Snape first. “Maybe don’t meet with him alone anymore.”

“Mr. Potter, I—”

“Please, consider it,” Harry said earnestly.

McGonagall found herself nodding before fully processing the implications. “I shall.”

———

Snape and Harry headed towards Slytherin in dispassionate silence. But Serafina entertained herself by running down and back up at each landing. When the group belatedly reached the dungeons, Snape motioned for Harry to keep walking past the entrance to the common room. Harry followed along curiously.

Snape pointed to a snake carving, and Harry nodded in understanding. Harry opened the parsel-passage, and Serafina preceded them vigorously.

“How are you, Mr. Potter?”

“Annoyed, mostly. I really think you need extra protection from that man, sir.”

“Is that right?” Snape quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes. The other professors can more easily avoid meeting alone with him, but he still thinks he holds your life in the palm of his hands. I know you’re gifted in occlumency, but what if he overpowers you one day? Can you be certain he’s never compelled you? What if he corners you into making a vow le—?”

“Mr. Potter, I am an adult. And while I appreciate your concern, I want you to accept that I know how to handle myself in difficult situations.”

“But—”

“Let me finish, Mr. Potter.” Harry nodded jerkily. “The Malfoys and I have seen a darker side of life. We have learned some lessons the hard way, yes, but we extracted as much knowledge as we could. I don’t want you to expend your energy worrying inordinately about the adults in your corner. I do like that you warned Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, but leave the other professors to me. Can we agree on this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That being said, Mr. Potter, I will show you something that may put your mind at ease.” Harry watched as Snape held up his hand, and a ring appeared on his left index finger. “I am a lord. My maternal grandparents’ surname was ‘Prince,’ and though they did not approve of my mother’s relationship with my father, they did not wish to see their line end. So, they deigned to make me the ‘heir.’

“For many reasons, I doubted I would ever pursue this inheritance. I will spare you the details, but I want you to know that this ring offers many protections on top of the skills acquired through study and experience. Do you understand what I am saying, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded as tension fell away. “And before you ask, the answer is ‘no.’ The headmaster does not know, and so I will entrust you to keep the secret — even from your friends.”

“Draco doesn’t know then?”

“No, but his parents do. We agreed to conceal this news from him for the time being.”

“Okay, sir. I understand.”

“Now, I will ask you again: how are you? When you snorted during the headmaster’s speech, I thought you might be struggling to hold your temper.”

“Oh, that…” Harry chuckled. “That was just me finding it mildly amusing that Dumbledore said ‘poor Ron.’ I mean, if he really gave a damn about Ron, he’d never use that word in association with Ron or his family. No matter the intended meaning, Ron would hate it. I don’t think Ron would want to be pitied either, but I know he’d detest any hint at his family’s finances. Dumbledore is just so full of shit, you know?”

“Mr. Potter, you are cursing in front of me again.”

“We’re in a parsel-passage. This doesn’t count.”

“It always counts. Habits matter.”

“Okay, fine. Headmaster Dumbledore…” Harry checked Snape’s reaction.

“Better,” Snape commended.

“…is full of sugar.”

”Excellent choice, especially since you dislike sweets so much.”

Harry snorted. Serafina, who had been running up and down the corridor, came to an abrupt stop and nuzzled Harry’s hand. He squatted down to pet her, and then an idea struck.

“Sir! Do you want to enter the common room from another direction? I can always double back and enter through the usual way. You can totally play up your mysteriousness. It’ll probably freak out the upper years too!”

Snape considered this for a moment. “Alright. Show me.”

Harry popped back up. “Great! I’ll dip into the wall and take a peek. I want to see their faces. But I’ll come in the usual way ASAP. I promise.”

“Very well.” Snape motioned for him to lead the way.

———

Harry was right. Snape did appreciate the Slytherins’ reaction.

Harry had shown Snape the small empty room sandwiched between the parsel-passage and the common room. There were no signs that it had ever been occupied, but Harry had found a narrower passage connecting the plain room to a shadowed section of the common room.

The potions master didn’t yet know what to make of the hidden corridors, but they brought to mind evacuation routes. There was no way he could research the theory, at least not safely. Talking to the portraits and ghosts was risky. And even the most careful communications with the headmaster were out of the question. Snape had to resign himself to riddling out the enigma slowly.

Harry gave Snape the signal to go ahead. They didn’t want to risk revealing the passage to the Slytherins, but this opportunity was too tempting to pass up. So, Harry had acted as a scout too. Dumbledore had sent the Slytherins the wrong message tonight, and Snape aimed to correct it. Slytherins do have power.

“Merlin! Were you in here the whole time?!” Marcus shouted when he noticed Snape’s sudden appearance.

“Marcus, we saw the wall shift… At least, I thought I saw something.” Adrian looked at the space beyond their head of house. He could not tell if anything had been disturbed.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He’ll be along shortly,” Snape said. “Now, first-years, gather around…”

———

Snape had delivered another great speech, and the first-years seemed well. The surprising entrance had been fun, but after Snape left, Harry’s irritation built up again. Harry stared into the fire as he stroked Howell and contemplated murder. With his abilities, Harry was confident that he could easily kill Ron or Dumbledore without raising alarm bells. It tickled Harry that these thoughts didn’t stir up feelings of shame.

Is it not simply cause and effect? If there’s an asshole ruining it for everyone, it’s natural to think of all kinds of solutions. Murder is a solution. That’s just a fact. It may not be the best solution or “worth the hassle,” but it was—

“Harry?” Daphne called, and Harry looked up. “You’re looking a little like a movie villain.”

Harry snorted. “So, stroking any familiar will suffice? It’s not just cats.”

“I guess not.” Daphne smiled. “Are you okay? What did Dumbledore want?”

Harry looked around the room, noticing many interested Slytherins. “I think I’ll just tell everyone.” Harry got up and moved to stand in front of the fireplace. “Anyone who wants to know what Dumbledore wanted, please pay attention.”

“Why should we listen to you?!” a new voice yelled.

At first, Harry couldn’t spot the speaker. The question had been met with silence, but the questioner was easy to identify because several people turned to stare at him in astonishment. The outburst had come from a first-year. Harry assessed the new arrival curiously. He looked so small, and though Harry was used to most people having a clearer face than him, this boy’s face looked flawless. He looked like a children’s book drawing come to life, and he seemed to be reconsidering his actions.

Is that kid really only a year younger than me? Why does he look so damn young? Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he smirked relaxedly. The boy was trying so hard to hold his ground; it made him look even younger.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Harry focused on the house at large. “As most of you know, Dumbledore has called me into his office many times. A common topic of these meetings is Ronald Weasley, the second-year Gryffindor who caused the after-feast drama. That’s what supposedly inspired tonight’s meeting. The headmaster wanted to express his concern about my resistance to Ron’s attempts at friendship.”

“What?!”

Harry turned towards the voice but didn’t place it. He nodded in acknowledgment nonetheless. “Dumbledore told me that I am influential, and as such, my treatment of ‘poor Ron’” — Harry made air quotes — “has affected his popularity within Gryffindor. Basically, the headmaster wanted to impress upon me that I am responsible for Ron’s wellbeing at this school.”

“That’s a load of bollocks!”

“The year just started!”

“I know, right?! Why is the headmaster aware of the weasel’s popularity?”

“This is the weasel’s fault!”

Harry put up a hand. “I don’t like Ron, but the headmaster’s agenda is his own. There’s no way Ron influenced Dumbledore into having this kind of conversation with me. Feel free to dislike them both, but they are not a team.”

“Is Harry defending the weasel?”

“Of course not! Harry just wants you to know who has the power.”

“Harry, is it true you stayed at the weasel’s house this summer?”

“Dumbledore forced the issue!” Draco announced, and the room got quiet.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Draco’s right, and I did stay at the Weasley home for a bit this summer. Dumbledore had been pushing for it, and my magical guardian decided that it was best to give in a little.”

“To shut him up later?”

“Exactly.”

“How did your meeting with Dumbledore end, Harry?” Gemma asked.

Harry smiled mischievously. “On a positive note, I think. Mistress McGonagall is sick of the headmaster’s bullshit. She doesn’t understand why he’s so set on me being friends with Ron, and she plans to file an official complaint against him with the board of governors.”

“No way!” Draco shouted.

Harry grinned. “Oh, yes, and she doesn’t want me to meet with Dumbledore again. The deputy headmistress should be handling these matters anyway. I don’t know if she’ll succeed in blocking all his meetings, but it’s a start at least.”

“So, McGonagall doesn’t have a problem with how you treat Ron?” Pansy asked cautiously.

Harry shook his head. “Nope. In fact, her only concern is that I am being pressured into not defending myself.”

“So, she heard about how you threw your arms open and told Ron to go ahead and curse you?” Theo drawled.

“Seems so,” Harry agreed.

“We did not care for that either, Harry,” Blaise said.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just so sick of him. No response is likely to ever satisfy him. And Dumbledore keeps trying to gaslight me into thinking I’m the aggressor. Worst of all, I can’t just destroy him and be done with it.”

“And if he’d have cursed you, Harry?” Sunila asked.

Harry shrugged. “I had some ideas but nothing concrete. I was mostly just thinking: Will him cursing me finally be blatant enough? Well, that and thinking that on the other side of whatever he did, I could justify subtly tearing him apart over the course of the school year.”

“Did you find out why none of the professors intervened?” Gemma asked.

“Our esteemed headmaster wanted to give us a chance to work it out for ourselves.”

“So, he wanted to meet you in his office?” Theo concluded.

“Pretty much. He’s still trying to find just cause for separating me from my magical guardian. He wants to paint the picture that I am aggressive and resistant to Ron’s offers of friendship because of the types of influences in my life.”

“Which influences?” Millicent asked.

“Anyone that isn’t him and those he wants me to be around.”

“Then, Slytherins have got to be one,” Marcus said. Harry nodded.

“There’s my family too,” Draco said. “When Harry was at St. Mungo’s over the summer, Dumbledore caused such a stir that the hospital wouldn’t allow us to sit with him in his room.”

Harry nodded and added, “He also hates my association with the goblins.”

“You really hate Dumbledore?” The question came from the same first-year boy who had asked why anyone should listen to Harry.

“I guess I could call it that. I think he’s full of shit, and I wouldn’t mourn his loss. ‘Hate’ is a strong emotion…” Harry mused. “He does make me angry…” Harry also considered that he had just been fantasizing about murdering him. “My feelings for him are definitely on that spectrum, yeah. I just don’t like thinking that I feel strongly for him either way.”

“My dad says that you are the Dark Lord’s enemy,” the bold first-year said hesitantly.

“Well, fuck, we’re just letting it all hang out tonight,” Greg said, shocking many, but Vincent, who was sitting beside him, nodded in agreement.

“Look, kid. Wait, what’s your name?”

The kid squared his shoulders and tipped his chin up. “I am Isaac Corr.”

“Okay, look, Mr. Corr,” — the kid flinched a little — “in the narrowest sense of the word, I guess I am the Dark Lord’s enemy.” The room grew tensely silent. “What you have to bear in mind is that it was the Dark Lord that marked me as his enemy. I wasn’t even 2 years old. I did not have political opinions, and I was far from being magically competent. I have no idea why I survived. I suspect my parents utilized some form of sacrificial magic. After they died, I was raised in the muggle world.

”Someone made damn sure I was far removed from anything I could learn growing up alongside other magical beings. But most importantly, I grew up in a house with 2 muggle adults who knew about and hated magic. So, they hated me.” The kid’s eyes widened. “I never met the Dark Lord properly or debated beliefs with him. I am a kid, just a year older than you, affected by the same war that influenced and still influences all of us. I do not seek to destroy the Dark Lord.

“For me, he’s mostly in my past. I do not seek to position myself against all that he stood for. I’m not even sure of all he believed. I certainly don’t like the man. He killed my parents, for fuck’s sake. But I have no desire to seek out and punish those who chose his side of the war when it was ongoing. And I certainly do not presume to know why anyone made the choice to stand by him. One final thing, kid,” Harry said, making sure the boy was still listening. “I don’t hold anyone responsible for what their family members chose then or now. Just look at Ron Weasley. I don’t like him, but I like his older brothers.”

There was silence for a while. Then, Marcus Flint rose up. “Harry, I’ve never heard you say so much all at one time. What the fuck? I didn’t even know you had it in you.”

Harry chortled. “I’ll need to take it easy for the rest of the night, but yeah, I can talk when it’s needed.”

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to know.” Then, he turned to Isaac. “Alright, kid, time for bed.”

“Is everyone going to call me that now?” the boy asked sullenly.

“Absolutely,” several Slytherins said.

The newest snakes stood up to leave, and Harry was approached by Hollis Mercy. She furtively stepped into his personal space and hugged him tightly. He hugged her just as snugly back. After a moment, she stepped back and said, “Want to walk alone together tomorrow after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said. Hollis smiled radiantly and left the room.

Soon after, Sunila came close. “Harry, regarding quidditch, you don’t have to try out, but I will hold seeker tryouts as well. I’m looking to create reserve teams that we can also use as a practice opposition team. Are you alright to continue, or do I have to look into replacing you?” She gave him a look that said, “You better not leave the team.”

“I’m staying put.” Harry smiled. “I saw a couple of professional games over the summer. Quidditch has merit.”

“I’m so glad you now approve,” Sunila said teasingly and patted his arm.

“Captain, would you consider some ‘just for fun’ games too? We could switch up positions.”

“I’ll think about it. It might be nice for blowing off some steam.”

Finally, Draco came to stand beside Harry and put an arm around his shoulders. “And this is just the first day.”

Harry snorted. “Welcome back.”

Chapter Text

Harry adjusted to being back at Hogwarts more easily than he had expected. The new DADA “professor,” Gilderoy Lockhart, was the singular hitch to the rather normal start of term. In another life, the vainglorious man could have been a worthwhile person; in this one, Lockhart pursued attention to the summit of imbecility.

The Slytherins despised him. To them, Lockhart represented the same kind of bias that Dumbledore did. He was “light” and glorious; therefore, his ambitions were rewarded. People practically tripped over themselves to laud the man without question or evaluation.

Slytherin? Not so much. Behind their password-protected door, the Slytherins engaged in many heated discussions about their grandiloquent DADA professor. One night, the snakes passionately debated the value of looks. Was there such a thing as being beautiful enough to override major flaws? The verdict: yes, in some cases, but Lockhart did not pass the test. He was too obnoxious, and his influence was too far-reaching.

On another night, the Slytherins analyzed and criticized the man’s DADA reading list, which included all of his publications! That discussion doubled as an opportunity to teach duplication spells because the house had voted to ban Lockhart’s books. One copy of each of the required books would be available to all, and magical copies could be made as needed.

Before the start of term, a seventh-year Slytherin, Cressida Morley, had organized a letter campaign in the hopes of discouraging additional contributions to Lockhart’s wealth. She wasn’t the most outgoing Slytherin, but that made her effort all the more effective. The house knew that if Cressida was worked up about something, they’d better listen. Also, she had Snape’s support. He never said anything, but they knew how to interpret his silence on the matter.

The Slytherins who the campaign did not reach, which mostly consisted of first-years, were encouraged to return their already purchased copies. If they could not get a refund, they would be reimbursed with map money and asked to share the book’s defacement, or other form of destruction, with the house. This, however, was not mandatory because the overriding goal was to get a genuine DADA education. To that end, a “real DADA book list” had been provided in the letters, and study groups were arranged to cover the material Lockhart was “guaranteed to overlook.”

Loathing Lockhart turned out to be a useful bonding experience for the house. It wasn’t exactly a group project, but it helped break the ice with the first-years. Or, as Draco had postulated, it was possibly “too much too soon,” and the house was overloading the newcomers.

Then, there was the night that the Order of Merlin award was picked apart. They discussed the winners, the alleged corruption, and the “obvious bias.” And they questioned the worthiness of the most relevant (to them) recipients. What did the prize fundamentally mean if people like Dumbledore and Lockhart held the distinction? Sure, Dumbledore had defeated the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, but he was a “shite headmaster.” And Lockhart was “definitely a charlatan!”

“And then, there’s Pettigrew!” Horacio Venquiaruti exclaimed and then looked awkwardly at Harry, who did not notice. But the silence that followed caught his attention.

What? Harry looked up from his journal. He’d been mostly listening, but he was more interested in discussing the details of Simul Dulce, the name of his candy business. Madam Medallion’s implementation of the “prioritize fairness” objective had inspirited the team. They were now planning to release a line of jelly beans in time for Samhain. Harry couldn’t wait to witness other people’s reactions to the confections and, above all, to the logo.

Simul Dulce’s logo was a play on the Deathly Hallows. They’d omitted the wand and tipped two triangles on their sides so that the peaks kissed. Details were added to turn the circles into eyes reminiscent of a dragon’s. The wand was reimagined as swirls of smoke and flame. They decided on this root concept because Simul Dulce was Harry’s first official independent business, and in goblin culture, it was important to own your choices proudly.

Since Harry needed to keep his involvement hidden, they’d had to find a more creative way for him to stake his claim. And, for better or worse, Harry had a connection to the Deathly Hallows. His Gringotts tests had uncovered his “potential” for becoming the “master of death.” It hadn’t meant much at the time, and it still didn’t.

Madam Medallion and Nickel didn’t know the significance, and they could not say if the designation had appeared in anyone else’s tests. Was it even a title? Was it “Master of Death” or “a master of death,” suggesting a longer life, as some interpreted the legend to mean? The Goblin Nation did not presume to know or understand magics from other realms, and they estimated that Death resided in a realm of his own. Perhaps, in Harry’s blood, there was a connection to the death realm? They did not know.

The “master of death” possibility could be exclusively attributed to Harry’s distant relatives, the Peverells. The Peverell brothers — Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus — were believed to be the inspiration behind “The Tale of the Three Brothers.” Madam Medallion had given Harry a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard so that he could familiarize himself with the popular children’s story, which offered a bit of context for the legend of the Deathly Hallows. But the veracity or basis of either was unknown.

Nonetheless, such a connection was not to be ignored. So, the Hallows depiction had been among the images that could conceivably stimulate branding ideas. Harry had been left alone to ponder the options with strict guidance to follow his instincts. And he’d easily gravitated to the representation of the Deathly Hallows. He’d played around with the emblem himself — “to confirm his choice,” as advised — and then the expert had carried on with his superior talents.

Harry liked how the creator had tipped two triangles, evoking the outline of spectacles. The draconic eyes made him feel a connection to the goblin pendant he never took off. And since his first jelly bean idea was spicy, the play of smoke and fire made even more sense to Harry. All together, the logo was still whimsical; the business was candy after all! Harry could barely believe that one. How ridiculous was it that Harry was involved with supplying more sweets to the public?!

The artist Madam Medallion had hired was doing an excellent job with the overall packaging too. It wasn’t obvious that they’d played with the Hallows symbols, but it was clear enough that reactions could help spread the word faster. Harry hoped that someone would figure it out, get riled up, and write to the Daily Prophet, which would then bring about an article. That would be great exposure! Of course, Simul Dulce wouldn’t admit to using the Hallows symbol as inspiration, but they would address the contention as opportunistically as they could. It would be fantastic!

“Harry?!” Draco called.

“Yeah?” Harry blinked, and Draco signalled that Horatio had spoken. Oh, right…

Horacio was a fourth-year who had transferred to Hogwarts the year before. Most of the school was convinced that Horacio had studied at O Baluarte, a magical school in Brazil, but the truth was that his parents had deliberately delayed sending him to boarding school. They had wanted more time with their son, and that sounded sensible to Harry. Horacio was alright, but Harry struggled with his random bouts of doubt.

“There’s nothing wrong with bringing up Pettigrew, Horacio,” Harry said.

“That’s it?” Marcus asked.

Harry shrugged. “What else is there to say?”

“They want to know what you think of Pettigrew being awarded an Order of Merlin, Harry.” Pansy flipped the page of her magazine.

“Oh… okay… well… I didn’t even know about that award before coming to Hogwarts. And since I learned about it because of those unnecessarily interactive chocolate frogs’ cards — the Albus Dumbledore card, to be precise — I truly don’t give a shit. But from what you all are saying, the awards process sounds even sketchier than the winners like Lockhart suggest.

“As for Pettigrew, the administrators of these supposedly prestigious awards couldn’t even make sure he was dead before granting him the honor posthumously?” Harry rolled his eyes. “What a fucking joke! If those awards meant a damn thing, they would have made a bigger deal out of rescinding Pettigrew’s. But hey, why should they do a fucking thing when the ministry is fixated on protecting its ass from the consequences of cockups like sending my godfather to Azkaban? I wonder what Merlin would think of the award winners. Fucking assholes.”

The room was oddly still, and Harry didn’t understand why. Then, Draco snorted, and others joined in the humor Harry couldn’t figure out.

“Alright then! Harry Potter himself says that the Order of Merlin is meaningless. We can all move on,” Marcus said laughingly.

Harry furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Harry,” Draco said, “it’s just a little funny that the boy we’ve all been told is light and good—”

“And the Dark Lord’s end!”

Draco nodded. “The fact that you think the accolade that so many think of as the pinnacle of magical excellence is nothing… It’s just funny.”

“I heard that there were wixes pushing for you to receive the Order of Merlin when you were still a baby,” Morgana said. She was the upper year who’d helped save Hermione from the troll.

“That’s… stupid. They don’t even know what happened that night. See! No investigations.” Harry shook his head exasperatedly. “That ministry needs an overhaul.” Laughter broke out again. “It’s true!”

“Oh, we know,” Cassius said. “But you can’t imagine how much society would be disrupted if Harry Potter released those quotes to the paper.”

Harry groaned. “Dumbledore would be the bigger problem. He’d probably use it as proof that my magical guardian corrupted me.” That made the laughter stop, and Harry felt bad. “I didn’t mean to be a buzzkill. Please forget I mentioned him. Go back to imagining the horrified masses.”

“‘The horrified masses…’” Adrian laughed. “That about sums it up.”

———

The fatuous Lockhart released a cage full of pixies and then had the nerve to get angry with the Slytherins for redirecting the puckish scamps towards him. It wasn’t exactly their fault that when they had blown the pixies away, Lockhart had opted to stand around dumbly. He was the DADA professor! He might have put up a shield or something. But Lockhart had been caught off guard; the teensy rascals swarmed the professor’s “lustrous” hair and changed the “award-winning” smile into a grimace of fear.

“Dishevelment is an understatement,” Lockhart said shakily after help had arrived.

Professor Flitwick, who had heard Lockhart’s screams, hurried in with his wand drawn. After taking in the scene, he loudly declared, “Dryadalis raptus!”

“That’s what my mum says!” Daphne laughed in relief. “It would’ve bugged me all day.”

A band of light sprang from Flitwick’s wand, attracting the pixies. As the mischief-makers merrily danced in the glow, the adept professor led them back to their cage. But Lockhart was pissed. So, Flitwick talked him down from punishing the Slytherins with a week’s detention and redirected the DADA professor’s focus to an acquirable lecture series. And as Lockhart envisioned himself in the presence of captivated audiences, the students quietly exited the classroom.

———

“Harry?”

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Hi.”

“Are you enjoying being back?”

Hermione scrunched her face before saying, “Mostly.”

“Let me guess. Ron?”

She nodded. “He’s more disruptive this year than last. I think he thinks he can impress the Gryffindor quidditch captain by talking loudly about the sport.” She rolled her eyes. “It makes it hard to study and relax in the common room.

“That sucks.”

Hermione nodded. “I, uh, wanted to ask about your DADA book. It seemed to flicker. Is it glamoured?” Harry snorted, and the nearby Slytherins smirked.

“Yes. We decided Lockhart’s books weren’t worth buying. So, there’s one real copy of each of his books in the Slytherin common room, and we invested in better books that cover the second-year curriculum.”

“Oh, you don’t think he’s…?” Hermione trailed off.

“We think he’s a fraud,” Theo stated.

“I see.” Hermione looked disenchanted. “I did think there were some inconsistencies, but I thought that maybe since the book was published, there must have been fact-checkers. I’ve read about time turners and wondered if he’d been trusted enough to use one on his various quests.”

“Time turners are heavily regulated,” Theo said. “Even the most ostensibly credible uses would be judged as too frivolous to risk disrupting the flow of time.”

“Oh…” Hermione frowned thoughtfully, but she changed the subject. “Will you all be participating in the greenhouse project?”

“I’m all in. It’s Neville’s project, after all,” Harry said, and Hermione looked towards the others.

Draco responded, “The rest of us will help out here and there. Only Harry is committed 100%. How about you?”

“I’d like to support Neville, but I’m not particularly interested in the creation part. I do like the idea, and I think it’s great that we’d have a warm, outdoorsy option during winter.”

“I’m sure Neville will understand. He wouldn’t want someone involved reluctantly because he’s going for a pacific vibe. I would recommend that you take a look at his plans, though. With your muggle experience, you may see something that he’s overlooking.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. For example, you did go to the Eden Project over the summer.”

Hermione smiled. “Yeah.” Then, her face turned serious. She looked over her shoulder nervously, and Draco reflexively set up muffling charms. Hermione took note and nodded in acknowledgment. “Listen, Harry, I wanted to warn you that Ginny Weasley has been talking about your visit to the Weasley home over the summer. She’s allowing people to conclude that you two are close. It’s actually kind of weird. I had thought maybe it was self-defense, like maybe she was trying to distance herself from Ron. I mulled over whether to say anything. You are close to the twins, but Ginny’s being very careful about who she says things to and when. So, I’m not sure her brothers will notice.”

“Thanks for telling me, Hermione. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Hermione nodded, looking relieved. Before she left, she asked for a list of recommended DADA books. Surprisingly, it was Pansy who agreed to get her one.

“Thanks. I’ll see you all later.”

When the Slytherins were alone, Daphne said, “So, Ginny Weasley is choosing to go the crazy route like Ronald.” She shook her head. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I know, right? The twins are the better influence,” Blaise replied.

“Speaking of the twins, who’s in the mood for a picnic?” Harry asked animatedly.

“Let’s go tickle the pear!” Draco shouted, and Harry laughed.

———

Neville, Susan, Hannah, Luna, and the Weasley twins joined the Slytherins for an outdoor picnic.

“Just think, Nev, come winter, we’ll be picnicking in your greenhouse.”

“Harry, it could take longer than we think,” Neville said shyly.

“No, it won’t,” Luna said airily. Susan looked at her strangely, but Daphne diffused the rising tension.

“Luna’s the intuitive type.”

“O-kay,” Hannah said.

“Luna, how are things working out for you in Ravenclaw?” Theo asked.

“Most find me weird, but that’s alright. I am unusual. There are some conceivable friends. They aren’t ready to be associated with me. It draws attention. Some are intrigued and bothered by me for talking to Slytherins. It takes time.”

“Do you think you’ll choose to stay in Ravenclaw?” Daphne asked.

“Yes. It’s where I need to be,” Luna said dreamily.

“You’re sure?” Theo asked cautiously.

“Don’t worry, Theodore. Your ideas are splendid. I think you’ll be happy with the results. At the end of the day, everything is a learning experience. And if things get bad, Harry will teach them a lesson.”

“For you, moonbeam, I’ll find a way to make the lesson lasting,” Harry said, and Luna brightened.

“Neville,” Susan said in a stage whisper. “I am a little afraid of your brother.”

“There’s no need to worry about Harry. He’s a protector,” Luna reached out and patted Harry’s hand, and he smiled at her fondly.

Susan searched Harry’s face. “I can see that, actually.”

“Well, I think all the snakes are a little scary. You’re all too good-looking not to be dangerous.”

“Why, Ms. Abbott, that’s a lovely compliment,” Blaise said dashingly.

Hannah turned bewildered eyes on Susan. “Do you see what I mean?”

“They’re just more polished than most of the student body. Look at Harry. He wears hair cuffs all the time now. He’s even got that sleeker bag when he’s not carrying his school one. And he’s one of the rougher-around-the-edges Slytherins,” Neville said.

“That… adds up. Greg Goyle’s shoes are very nice, and he’s taken to wearing a headscarf during Potions.” Hannah’s brow knitted pensively.

“Just wait until third year,” Draco grinned.

“What’s up with third year?” Susan asked.

“That’s when we’re allowed to deviate from the masses,” Theo said openly.

“What?” Hannah wondered if she should feel offended.

“It’s an unspoken rule that we need to be on a more even footing with our fellow classmates. So, we tend to shop where everyone else shops until we all know each other a bit better. Then, come third year, we are allowed to let our different or more expensive tastes show if we want to,” Pansy explained.

“It coincides with our ability to go to Hogsmeade. So, third year,” Blaise added.

“I…” Susan looked stunned; then realization lit up her face. “That’s why I couldn’t buy my robes in Paris! I’d seen this gorgeous black fabric, but my aunt insisted that we get my robes at Madam Malkin’s.”

“See, there you go,” Draco said.

“Draco, do you think they’d allow robes with a lavender lining?” Luna asked.

“Get a shade that complements Ravenclaw colors, and they’d be fools to challenge your choice. If you can, start using clothing that resembles your desired shade now, and once people associate you with that color, they’ll barely notice that the robes shouldn’t be lined with your signature color,” Draco said confidently.

“Harry, do you think your scarf connection could get me some color samples?” Luna asked seriously.

“I’ll write to him and ask,” Harry said.

“I have parchment,” Theo said, pulling out the writing materials. “Ask him about shades of green.”

“I want to see shades of yellow,” Susan asked.

“And pink,” Pansy added.

“Are we talking solids exclusively or prints too?” Harry asked.

“If we’re including prints, I want to see shades of low volume whites and grays,” Blaise said.

“You know, if you review these samples in your common rooms, you might generate enough buzz to buy in bulk,” George suggested.

“And if you can manage to entice the professors, you might even get official permission to brighten up the uniforms,” Fred said.

“I’m going to ask Jerome if he’d have a mind to provide school robes. I don’t want him to find out that we purchased lining fabric and didn’t give his shop the chance to make the outer robes,” Harry said.

“Then, you have to ask for samples of black as well,” Draco said.

“He has great blacks.” Harry nodded and kept writing.

“When it comes time to talk about the greenhouse project, I hope you all are at least half as interested as you are now,” Neville said.

Blaise’s eyes widened, and he looked around the group. No one said anything. Harry eventually looked up from his letter and smiled at Neville. “I will do my level best to bring the enthusiasm, Nev. I promise.” Some indecipherable murmuring followed from the others.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Harry. And don’t worry yourself, Blaise. I’m plenty keen. Just show up and tell me what’s wrong with my ideas, yeah?”

“That, I can do!” Blaise said.

“Me too. I’m superb at spotting bad ideas,” Pansy said.

“This is such a lovely group of people,” Luna smiled serenely, and then she closed her eyes and swayed gently to a melody only she could hear.

———

Two weeks later, Jerome met Naricssa for lunch at a newly opened French bistro on the recently extended main road of Knockturn Alley.

“Thank you for coming to me, Narcissa. I needed a break, but I wouldn’t have been able to relax too far from the store.” Jerome took a sip of his coffee. “I needed this.”

“Is everything alright with the shop?”

“Oh, yes, but when Knockturn Alley closed for renovations, Grandfather became restless. He didn’t know what changes would come, and that set him on edge. And when Grandfather is on edge, we’re all on edge. Business went up, and we expected it would taper after people had seen that the Knockturn stores were substantially the same as before. But business has stayed high. Grandfather was relieved at first. He’d been worried that if Knockturn completely changed its ways, customers would rely upon shops like ours to fill the void.”

“At first?”

“Oh, now he’s querying whether business will stay high long enough to justify hiring someone new. I think he’s just caught up with all the changes, cycling between anxious and excited. When he isn’t exhausting me, I admire how dedicated he still is in the store. He loves it.” Jerome smiled fondly.

“How about hiring someone temporarily?”

“Grandfather does not believe in ‘temporary employees.’ He doesn’t like the idea of people learning too much about the business only to leave. He’s willing to reward loyalty, but he’s uneager to extend trust to people who are sure to leave.”

“That makes sense. Your family’s store is unique.”

“I’m sorry to be talking about work so much, but if you're willing to continue, I have something I’d like to run by you.”

Narcissa put down her glass of wine and made a lighthearted show of giving Jerome her full attention. “Please, go on.”

He smiled. “Young Harry has asked me if we’d be interested in making and selling school robes. It seems some of his friends have taken a liking to the idea of having exquisitely lined robes; they requested a variety of swatches. The idea grew, and Harry thought it only fair that we decide whether we’d prefer to supply the lining fabric or make the entire robe ourselves.”

“School robes by Beautiful Things. That would be unexpected. Your family’s store has never been a key stop during school supply shopping. If you were to do this, I think you’d also have to make dress robes; they’re more in line with the brand.”

“Oh, it doesn’t stop there. Harry and I have been collaborating on a line of scarves specifically designed for potions-brewing. He’s testing them in class.” Jerome chuckled. “He’s hinting at ideas for the protective gloves and aprons, too. Harry can’t help but see the scarves, the other accessories and clothing, and think, ‘Why not this?’ It’s adorable. I just don’t know at what point we should be talking about opening another shop.” Jerome rubbed his temple briefly and took another sip of his drink.

“He’s testing them in class?” Narcissa asked in a hushed voice, even though their privacy was protected.

Jerome nodded. “Yes, and he’s been spending more time in the lab helping others. He says that it's ‘top-notch multitasking.’”

Narcissa laughed. “Does the…?”

“Dour don know?” Narcissa nodded with amusement. “He does not. According to Harry, Severus does not believe that he is merely brewing potions, but the professor is leaving him to it. Harry wants to surprise him.” Jerome rolled his eyes blithesomely. “Our shop may not be a necessary stop for students, but I’ve heard some stories nonetheless. I can’t imagine any other student has ever been so unworried in his presence.”

“I think you’re right. And it does sound like much more than school supplies. If you do decide to open another shop, I hope the name isn’t too different. Would you consider something like: Beautiful Things — Tailored? It would be lovely if it felt like a natural progression of what already is. Could you start with a trial? For instance, could you promote one of your current makers and test how your customers respond? Then, the first orders could be treated as if they were regular custom orders, and you could gauge interest.”

“I like that idea. But what of Madam Malkin’s and Twilfitt and Tattings? How do you think they might respond?”

“I can’t see them being offended, if that’s what you mean. They don’t carry fabric like yours, and you could always consult with them beforehand, letting them know that you’ve received requests from tenacious parties. Maybe they’d prefer to meet that need and solely order fabrics from your shop. That said, Jerome, if you were to keep it in-house, you’d be in full control of how your fabric is represented. I think it’s a flattering idea, and you certainly have the creative eye to make it work.”

“Thank you, Narcissa.” Jerome released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’ll share something else with you about young Harry.”

“I’m listening.”

“Grandfather is so impressed with Harry’s involvement that he’s thinking of offering him a larger investment opportunity.” Jerome smiled enigmatically.

Narcissa blinked a couple of times. “I cannot find my words.”

Jerome chuckled. “I understand completely. Uncle is beside himself with envy. Harry has made me look like an undisputedly savvy businessman.” After a brief pause, Jerome decided to ask a question he knew he was unlikely to receive a direct answer to. “There’s an infinitesimal rumor that Lucius is the mysterious investor in Knockturn Alley. Does this idle talk have promise?”

“There’s potentiality in most gossip, Jerome. It all depends on how it’s fostered.”

“It is commendable that Lucius could be happy about a development that he once expressed an interest in. Many in his position would be furious and eager to know who had gained the privilege.” Narcissa casually took a sip of her wine, and something in the silence made Jerome think of Harry. “No,” he whispered and then grinned. “I surmise that someone like Harry would find Lucius’s business insights fascinating.”

“Oh, yes. They’ve bonded over many ideas during his visits to the manor.” Narcissa smiled subtly.

“In that case, please have your handsome husband write to me soon. I’d love to hear his opinions about the upcoming shops vying for a spot on the alley.”

“No need, darling. You must come to dinner soon.”

“It is easier to be away from the shop after dinner. Would you mind a later meal sometime soon?”

“Not at all. We’ll have to see which days work best,” Narcissa said neutrally, and Jerome smiled.

———

“Draco! Look!” Harry showed Draco Lucius’s latest update about Knockturn Alley. The new shops and restaurants were proving to be a hit with the customers.

“Mother said favourable things about the French bistro,” Draco said. “What’s it called?”

“La Petite Cuillère. Do you think I should secure a location for the twins?”

“What?! Harry, that’s a long way off.”

“I know, but I could lease the space until then. Temporary shops or even an art gallery… I wonder if Argo would like to supply goods to a shop. They do love baking…”

“Harry, one step at a time…”

“If Argo supplies the shop, it might allow the twins to sell some of their products too… oh! If they share the recipes… I have to write to Argo!”

Draco turned to Serafina. “Wild Girl, there’s scarcely any excitement to muster for business talk.” Serafina rose up and nuzzled his head. “Yes, you’re right. He listens to what I say.” She butted him a little more firmly. “Yes, and manages his feelings well. I get it: be happy for him, even if the topic is ‘meh’ to me.” Serafina nosed his face and draped herself partially across his legs.

Blaise came into the room and asked, “Why do you look like you’ve been scolded?”

“Serafina just reminded me that Harry’s interests are important to him,” Draco said sternly, as if to underscore the lesson.

“He isn’t still pushing for a familiar habitat, is he? I thought we all agreed that Hogwarts is too magically charged to create a type of ecosystem within its walls?” Blaise asked, feeling a little alarmed.

Theo, who had walked in partway through Blaise’s questioning, quickly added, “The research and practice are fascinating, but there are simpler means that’ll suffice. Even muggle options like heat lamps are useful.”

Draco allowed their spinning to cheer him. “Be at peace. It’s nothing like that. He just had another business idea.”

“You know, Draco, you’re lucky to know about his schemes. You never can tell when an opportunity will arise that will appeal to you. Harry doesn’t share those with the rest of us,” Blaise stated.

“If his business ideas are as diverse and creative as his magical interests, he’ll likely do very well,” Theo contributed.

“I hear you both, and thank you for underscoring Serafina’s argument,” Draco drawled.

Soon after, Harry bounded back. “Okay! Letter sent. What are we doing for the rest of the day?”

“That must have been some idea,” Blaise murmured, and Theo nodded.

“It was!” Harry said and flopped onto the couch.

Dorm rooms didn’t usually have couches, but Harry had convinced the others to rearrange the furniture. The room used to have four personal desks and two nightstands between each bed. There had been a symmetry to the room with a lot of unused space. Harry had persuaded them to reduce the distance between the beds in exchange for more seating options and “coziness.” He had wanted a couch, and an opportunity presented itself.

Slytherin furniture could not leave Slytherin territory. It could neither be shrunk nor stored. It was an odd rule, but it was enforced all the same. What may have once been a show of respect was now limiting. So, when Harry heard about some 7th years wanting more floor space in the common room, he sketched out alternative layouts for their dorm room and made his pitch.

The room was now divided into quadrants, which factored in everyone’s preferences. Harry was the least picky, and Theo was the most uncompromising. Nonetheless, Theo allowed for his bed to be pushed against a wall and his desk to be moved opposite Blaise’s. He just didn’t want to lose “the generous distance between my face and Blaise’s.” The room looked odd, especially with Harry and Draco sharing a quadrant, but they all liked the couch. That included Serafina, who stretched herself out so that she was draped over both boys.

“So? Let’s do something! Get some fresh air. What do you say, Wild Girl? Should we go for a run?” Serafina looked at Harry keenly. Then, she leapt off the couch and walked towards the door. “That’s one. Are you all coming?”

“I’ll come, but I’m not running.” Draco stood unenthusiastically.

“Draco isn’t helping to sell the idea, but I’ll come,” Blaise said.

“Me too,” Theo said.

On the way towards the main castle doors, they’d collected a few more people, who were lured by Harry’s liveliness. From the joy on his face, they figured that the day must be nicer than they had guessed.

Harry ran around with Serafina while some flew on their brooms. Others studied and chatted on transfigured blankets.

When Harry stopped running to stare consideringly at the lake, a voice interrupted his whims.

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Potter.” Harry started and turned to see McGonagall still a substantial distance away. So, he assumed she had amplified her voice.

Harry smiled and walked in her direction. “Would the giant squid or the mermaids be offended?”

“It’s not that, Mr. Potter. I’d simply prefer that you be more prepared. The contrasting temperatures take a greater toll on the body than you’d expect. You’ll want to make sure that you have a plan and ideally, a group of companions with mixed interests. A swim in the lake often results in the need for a nap. It’s useful to have friends around who have not been swimming so that they may keep watch.”

“Oh…” Harry looked back at the lake for a moment before turning back to McGonagall. “Thank you. Would it be alright if Serafina jumps in?”

“She’d know best, but yes, it’s perfectly acceptable,” McGonagall said, inwardly intrigued.

Harry grinned and ran towards Serafina. “Have at it, Wild Girl!” And Serafina seized the opportunity.

“Harry!” Draco bellowed.

Harry waved consolingly at Draco and looked at the spot Serafina had jumped into. When she broke the surface again, she had a large fish in her mouth and was paddling happily.

“Come on, Wild Girl. I’ll set you up with a fire,” Harry said and proceeded to do just that.

McGonagall was pleased to see Harry choose a safer fire. He also had the foresight to set up a protective barrier: this was a boy who understood that fire could catch. After he was done, Harry walked over to Draco. The boy had not forgotten his friend’s worry.

“More hunting, Harry?” Draco said neutrally. Harry smiled. “Yes, I know.” Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s a wild girl.”

Noticing other professors in the area, McGonagall returned to the castle with a small smile on her face. Then, the headmaster wiped it away.

Dumbledore had been observing the scene from the castle’s entrance. “I see Mr. Potter has become a favorite of yours, Minerva. You allow his familiar to run wild and do not reprimand him for starting a fire.”

“Serafina is not Mr. Potter’s familiar, as you know. And all beings need to run free from time to time. As for the fire, it is not the prohibited type. Furthermore, he took additional precautions that most would argue are unnecessary.”

“The familiar relationship has not been verified, as far as I am aware. Mr. Malfoy may be covering for his friend.”

“If your doubt is sincere, please submit an official request to have the matter explored. At that time, I will investigate,” McGonagall stated firmly.

“Minerva, it has come to this?”

The headmaster spoke with such false solicitude that McGonagall felt her skin crawl.

“As you see,” McGonagall replied.

The headmaster sighed wearily and shook his head disappointedly. “Very well, Minerva. We’ll do this your way.”

———

“Medallion,” Argo greeted stiffly.

“Argo,” Medallion replied curiously.

“I would like a moment of your time. Would now be suitable?”

“Of course, old friend. Please sit,” Medallion offered; Argo shook their head and stayed standing.

“The young one has made me a business proposal.” Medallion, having no idea what the tender was, stayed silent. “I see he didn’t tell you.” Argo began to pace. “It’s outrageous what he is positing, and yet, he speaks as if he isn’t trying to remake the world!”

“Argo, if you wish for me to participate in this conversation, I require more information.” Argo placed the upsetting letter on the table beside her, and she slowly picked it up, gauging Argo’s reaction. As Medallion read through the letter, a smile spread across her face. “This is a wonderful idea, and he seems to have explored it from several different angles.”

“Would he not need permission from the other shop owners or at least, his fellow stewards?”

“The shop owners would not get a say, no, but the stewards have vowed to do what is in the best interest of the alley. So, they’d know to keep their prejudices to themselves. As for the other two stewards, they already know of his attachment to you and are more than aware of what it means to have bonded with the land. If Noctu would take no issue with it, then they should not either. Plus, he says here that your involvement need not be so public, much like his presence is obscured.”

“He proffers a 50/50 ownership of the shop itself… He cannot know all of what that would mean.”

“No, but he likely wouldn’t care. He’d concentrate on the positives.”

“Such as?”

“Your ownership would give you explicit access to the land, which Noctu would welcome. Furthermore, you’d be effectuating an avenue for other elves to call this land home. Should the elven presence become more known, which it seems would be entirely at your discretion, some of the shopkeepers may choose to work with elves as well. Not all magical families have house elves.”

“Not all are willing to treat them well.

“As beings of the land, shop owners would be upsetting Noctu and her stewards by not respecting your presence and contribution.”

Argo exhaled slowly. “This is a lot to take in.”

“If you want to do this, do this. Simply find a way that works for you. Discuss your concerns with Harry and do so soon. His idea of having your wares available by Yule is promising. Your Yule Blessings jam is divine.” Medallion grinned.

“He originally thought of securing a location for a future enterprise with the Weasley twins,” Argo said, testing the veracity of the proposal.

“Yes, but he writes that it would not affect the nature of the contract. He has no designs on using your business as a filler. He only wants you to think about working with them in the meantime, be it a display of limited offerings or producing some of their recipes. Nothing will be done without your approval. And look here. He says plainly that this merely affords an option for future consideration, ‘…if you would like to change locations or completely change the nature of your business.’ He even includes examples of alternatives, like private catering and catalogue orders. He wants you to know that you have choices and that this need not be a permanent commitment.”

“He’s a ridiculous boy,” Argo drawled.

“A ridiculous boy who even offered to discuss building up your own fruit supply. He plans to write to me to discuss his properties and whether we can work around the fact that he is not yet of age.” Medallion gave Argo time to think before more softly adding, “This seems like a dream come true. I know your history, and I know that sharing your creations privately has not been enough. Would it not be utterly satisfying to have magical humans make your provisions a staple at their fancy gatherings?”

“I am wiser now…” Argo’s eyes glittered.

“Aren’t we all?”

Argo smiled gently. “All right, help me collect my thoughts and respond to the young one.”

———

Harry was wall-walking again, and this time, he was determined to get a response from Seren. He’d tried to say hello “face-to-face” and believed she’d like to know that there were students interested in aiding the wards. But she’d been aloof, he supposed. The walls felt fine; there was no cause for alarm, and the pull had balanced out. So, he reasoned that she likely wanted to leave him to it.

A part of him, though, worried that the residue in his scar was putting Seren off. He tried to dismiss the thought because Voldemort’s mark had been there all along. But Harry’s patience was decreasing. This meant it was getting harder not to fuel sentiments about having “served his use.”

Harry had told Draco of his intention to go wall-walking and left the Marauders’ Map with him. Harry’s bed was curtained off and warded, and Draco knew what to do if Harry wasn’t back by breakfast.

“I’m pretty sure you can hear me, Seren. So, I’m just gonna sit down and wait. If Draco has to involve Snape, that’s on you.”

Harry sat down within the wall and closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing, allowing himself no more than the shallowest form of meditation. The aim was to rest and be patient; falling asleep was not an option. Harry didn’t know how much time had passed before he was yanked into the Hogwarts private wardroom for a deeper meditation.

“There you are! What’s going on? Why haven’t you been in contact with me?” Seren regarded him but said nothing. “If you don’t tell me, then you’re encouraging my imagination to run wild. I’ve come up with a couple of theories that don’t flatter you at all.” Seren quirked an eyebrow. “Alright, my first theory is that I’ve exceeded my usefulness, and you want nothing more to do with me.” Seren scoffed. “The second is that you find the darkness in my scar a danger to the school.”

Seren rolled her eyes and tentatively sat in front of him. “It is you who distanced yourself. You’ve bonded with another. You chose Noctu.”

“What?”

“Do you deny it?”

“No. I just don’t understand why that would disturb you or how it changes things.”

“The magical humans who bond with land are ever faithful. They do not take on other land, and you are young. I would not have thought you’d be interested in such a bond yet. The bond you made is strong. Your loyalty must be fierce.”

“Seren, I am one of three stewards of Noctu’s Alley, now known as Knockturn Alley. We chose a ritual that revitalized what was and welcomed the new. Like a bridge mended, reinforced, and redesigned. Everyone who lives, works, and visits the area engages with the bonds. It is strong, yes, and I am committed to its preservation, but I am not restricted by it. On the contrary, to best care for the alley, it is important that I be connected beyond its reach.”

“Oh.” Seren appeared to blush. “I thought I was being abandoned again.” Her voice was slightly above a whisper.

“I didn’t even know I could inadvertently do that,” Harry said. “There is still much to learn, but I trusted the humans and goblins involved in the ritual. At the very least, they would not have wanted to restrict themselves.”

“The goblins do know their rituals,” Seren said quietly.

“In the future, could you please just talk to me? I thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m not skilled at interpreting emotions.”

Seren nodded in acknowledgment. “I apologize, Harry.”

“I accept your apology. Now, I think you’ll like what I have to say next. There are students interested in performing rituals that might bolster the wards.” Seren’s eyes lit up. “However, there is much to brood over, not least of which is the headmaster.”

“What has he done now?” Seren practically growled.

Harry filled her in on what he knew, including Dumbledore’s refusal to take others’ advice about the wards and the possible cover of the greenhouse project and more-public quidditch matches for any “unauthorized” rituals.

Seren certainly had a lot of ideas, all of which would still preserve the sanctity of the heart of Hogwarts. It was important to keep its existence a myth amongst most beings, especially humans.

———

The next day, Harry was a little tired, but overall, he felt surprisingly well for someone who had not been to bed. Draco was a little on edge, but there hadn’t been time to discuss anything before breakfast. When Draco’s mood became obvious, Harry placed a hand on his and said, “We’re all gonna need you to breathe.” Draco looked around to see several of his year mates looking at him curiously. Then, he nodded jerkily and took a deep breath.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, but Draco’s nerves had not settled. Harry resolved to get to the bottom of things.

After dinner, he invited Draco to go for a walk around the castle. Harry led them to a room that also hid an entrance to a parsel-passage. Once inside, Harry warded the room and set a proximity alarm. Then, he led Draco into the Slytherin corridor and walked until he reached his desired location. To Draco’s surprise, they exited into the seventh-floor hallway, near the Room of Requirement.

“Why did you bring me here, Harry?” Draco whispered.

“Go ahead.” Harry gestured. “You remember what to do?” Draco nodded. “Good. Find us a worthy place to chat.”

Harry then pulled out the Marauders’ Map while Draco walked back and forth, reflecting on what he wanted. Draco felt foolish, but he still asked for a safe, relaxing oasis that would help him address his apprehensions. A door appeared, and Draco stepped inside, gasping at what he saw. The room was breathtaking.

Harry soon joined him, and without a word or sound, he moved towards a tree to get Howell situated. Harry pulled his familiar from his robes, and after a hissed exchange, Howell went off to explore the space.

Then, Harry sat down. “What’s going on with you today?”

Draco sighed and found a patch of grass for himself. “Harry… I want to respect your privacy… I know that there are things that you may never tell me, and that’s mostly fine. It’s just that I worry, and there will be times when I need to ask a question.” Draco assessed Harry’s face but did not find a clue. “I have to ask you something. And if it’s off limits, then you’ll have to tell me directly that it’s none of my business…”

“Go ahead, Draco. Ask what you have to ask.”

Draco took a deep breath in, exhaled slowly, and as confidently as he could, he asked, “Who is Seren?”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion and then surprise. Draco was torn between fear (Does he not know who I’m talking about?!) and exasperation (Fine! Forget I asked!), but he forced himself to be patient. Then, Harry chuckled!

Draco felt extremely irritated. “It’s not funny, Harry.”

“It is, actually.” Harry laughed some more, and Draco did his best to wait him out. “I’m tired. I’ve hung in there as long as I could, I think. Anyway, I didn’t know she’d show up on the map. Otherwise, I might have reconsidered leaving the map with you.”

“But then I wouldn’t have known where you were!”

“I understand, but I can’t tell you about Seren.”

“Harry, can you be sure this Seren is not a danger to you?”

“Yes,” Harry said definitively. “You can think of her as a Hogwarts… staple.”

Staple?! Draco could tell this was one of those times when Harry was trying to speak as sincerely as possible while still preserving the secret.

“Like a ghost?” Draco asked.

Harry shook his head. “N…”

Fuck. Harry hummed.

“Harry?”

“I can tell you that she has guidance for how we can help the wards.”

“Harry! Are you hearing yourself? A being of some kind that you cannot talk about is guiding you towards… What? A ritual?”

“That does sound weird,” Harry admitted and rubbed his face. “There are things… Let me think for a minute.” Harry closed his eyes and sat quietly for a while.

Draco turned his attention to the oasis that the Room had furnished. It was remarkable, and he wondered how real it actually was. Would the grass stain his robes? Could the trees support his weight, too? If the water were to be evaluated, would it be from a stream or the tap?

“Okay,” Harry said. “Seren is the one who told me about Peter Pettigrew.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “You didn't spot him on the map?”

“No.”

“The day you captured him drained you… And the training you put yourself through afterwards… to do whatever it is you eventually did…” Harry gave Draco a look that said, Surely you have some idea. “Okay, yes, I have suspicions, but—”

Harry put up a hand. “Let’s not talk about details, Dray. Seren is invested in making sure this school is a safer, better place,” he said emphatically, urging Draco to hear some extra meaning.

Draco knew that Harry would not clarify or confirm anything. “You taxed yourself last year. It’s not acceptable for her to use you like that, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Draco.”

“For what?”

“Seren did what she felt she needed to do. She couldn’t see another way. And, to be fair to her, she did not rush me or tell me how to achieve my goal. She asked for help, and I was able to help. I don't know everything myself. And I really don’t feel the need to know anytime soon. There are more pressing matters...”

“Like Dumbledore?” Harry nodded. “When can you tell me more?”

“When you need to know — like now — or when your occlumency shields are so top-notch that you could resist veritaserum,” Harry said humorlessly.

“So, never?” Draco drawled.

“Draco, now that I know what Dumbledore… Draco, I do not put anything past that man. I believe he is capable of drugging students, falsifying crimes, and maneuvering people in front of the Wizengamot to learn what he wants to know. Your ignorance is important. I didn’t understand that as much as I should have…

“Frankly, you know far more than you should and without the same protections as Snape. You are more vulnerable than your parents, Draco, even if you solely factor in proximity to Dumbledore. That’s a big fucking deal. Please understand that there is a balance we must maintain. You can currently answer honestly that you do not know how Peter Pettigrew was captured. Now, think to yourself, how many other questions can you answer honestly?”

“And if he ever gets me alone…?”

Draco didn’t have to complete the question. Harry understood. “I want you to say and do whatever you need to in order to draw attention away from your involvement.”

“But Harry…” Draco paused, trying to think. “The Malfoy alliance!”

Harry shook his head. “Leave that to your parents. When it comes to you and me, I’m saying that the best way to protect me is to protect yourself.”

Draco did not like the sound of that, but instead of challenging Harry, Draco pressed for confirmation. “What if the best thing to do is to throw you under the Knight Bus?”

“If it gets Dumbledore looking away from you, do it,” Harry said forcefully, without a hint of ambiguity. “I am not alone, Draco. I am preparing myself.”

“What can I do?”

“You are already doing it, but you could work more diligently on mind magic. Talk to Snape, your parents, or even Pomfrey. I understand healer shields are high quality. And always make it look like you are learning because of curiosity, not defense.”

Draco nodded jerkily in acknowledgment and whispered, “Be sneaky.”

“Be a Slytherin.”

“Be a Slytherin,” Draco echoed and smiled. He didn’t like any of this, but he did feel calmer.

But seriously, Draco thought, who the fuck is Seren?

———

After the next potions lesson, Snape requested that Draco and Harry stay behind. Snape led the boys to his office and put up wards.

Snape looked at them contemplatively. “There’s an important update regarding your familiars. Headmaster Dumbledore’s request to have the bonds checked has been accepted, after much discussion and an appeal. The examination will take place soon. However, to avoid tampering, the date, time, and location of the evaluation will not be disclosed in advance.” Harry and Draco both rolled their eyes.

“Now, I need to ask if you know anything about the string of pranks that have befallen the current DADA professor.” The boys giggled but shook their heads. “I prefer verbal responses. Mr. Malfoy?”

“No, sir.”

“Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir.”

“One prank in particular has caused the professor much distress. It would seem that when he attempts to reply to fan mail, his quills are unable to write anything but the words: ‘I am a fraud.’”

“Yikes, that’s unlucky,” Harry said.

“Indeed. He is, however, loath to bring it to Madam Pomfrey’s attention or to seek out help from St. Mungo’s. He conferred with Professor Flitwick and asked him to analyze his quills. As you may have deduced, Professor Flitwick approached me, given my experience with Mr. Ronald Weasley’s case. Yet, he advised our esteemed professor to get more rest and see if it clears up before inconveniencing me. After all, I am surly and would not appreciate someone wasting my time.”

Draco turned panicked eyes on Harry, who cleared his throat before calmly saying, “I’m sure it’ll resolve itself soon, sir. It must be difficult for him to take on teaching duties on top of his celebrity lifestyle. A couple of days of rest should do the trick.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s all it is.”

“I do hope it’s set to rights soon, gentlemen. I wouldn’t be pleased if I had to cover Professor Lockhart’s chaperoning duties during the next Hogsmeade weekend.” Harry, the menace, nodded sympathetically, and Draco, fool boy, widened his eyes. “All right, you may go.”

Draco stood quickly and dashed towards the exit. Harry stood up much more slowly, waiting for Draco to be out of earshot, and pulled his bag over his shoulder. “Do you think we pushed it too far by questioning the inconsistencies in his books? Or was it just right?”

Snape snorted. “Out, menace.”

Harry grinned. “Bye, sir.”

———

Later that night, Harry made his way to Lockhart’s office and disabled the spells on his desk. He was sorry to cancel them, but really, it was kind of Professor Snape to give them the heads-up that the matter would look similar to what they had done to Ron. Harry looked around the room and wondered what he could do that was within bounds and unlikely to result in a short list of Slytherin suspects. Suddenly, the various images of Lockhart enlivened him.

——

“Mirrors?! That’s your big idea. Mirrors?”

“Don’t be an ass, Marcus. Sometimes the simplest ideas have the greatest success,” Gemma said.

“I had to act fast, and I didn’t want what I did to blow back on the house,” Harry defended.

“Well, I guess we’ll see what happens. Let’s get to breakfast.” Marcus headed for the door.

“Did you remember to cover your tracks?” Draco pointedly looked at Harry’s wand.

Harry threw his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Wait until I tell you how I did it. You’ll love it!” Draco narrowed his eyes, but there was no heat. “My wand is clean. I promise.”

Lockhart wasn’t at breakfast, and the entire hall of students took notice. “Okay,” Marcus conceded, “now, I’m curious.”

By lunchtime, rumors were flying. Professor Lockhart was not himself. He was “excessively distracted” and “would not finish his tales.”

———

Before the Slytherin second year’s DADA lesson could start, Professor Snape appeared and requested to speak with Harry and Draco.

“It’s time, children. We’re going to collect your familiars,” Snape said, already leading them to the dungeons.

“Now? I have Howell on me. Could I meet you—”

Draco shoved Harry. “Hey! If I don’t get to see, you don’t get to see. Plus, Midha wants to attend, remember?”

“You could get her,” Harry muttered and glanced back at the DADA classroom door longingly.

“What could possibly be so exciting about today’s DADA lesson, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked knowingly.

“I hear Professor Lockhart hasn’t been himself. ‘Distractible,’ they say,” Harry said.

“And this interests you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m always intrigued by the shifting moods of authority figures.”

“I see. Perhaps this meeting will be brief.”

———

The meeting was not quick. After collecting their familiars, Harry and Draco were brought to the Great Hall, where several people were gathered. Harry recognized Headmaster Dumbledore, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, Augusta Longbottom, and Lucius Malfoy. There was also a man in an auror uniform that Harry did not recognize.

“Sir, why is an auror here?” Harry asked Snape.

“I don’t know,” Snape said deliberately, and that made Harry tense.

“The auror is here, Mr. Potter, because a student is not allowed to have more than one familiar. Should a student be found with two familiars, one shall be confiscated,” Dumbledore said.

”What?!” Draco’s eyes goggled fearfully, and Serafina started adjusting her posture as if she were preparing for a hunt.

“But familiars are protected,” Harry said numbly, and Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. Howell emerged from Harry’s robes and circled his torso. Midha came to land on Harry’s shoulder.

Howell hissed, ~“Don’t be afraid. We know what we’re doing.”~

“Mr. Potter?” Harry’s eyes flicked to the auror. “My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I can assure you that if I am obliged to remove one of the animals, I will ensure that they return to a safe place of yours and Mr. Malfoy’s choosing.”

“You cannot promise that, Kingsley,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, I can.” Shacklebolt’s eyes narrowed determinedly, but his attention was on Harry.

Draco asked, “Do you promise, Auror Shacklebolt?”

“Yes, I swear it.”

But Harry couldn’t believe it. He wanted to talk to Howell and Midha and to stroke Serafina. Logically, he knew he had nothing to fear, but something was happening to him. The possibility of losing his familiars. Yes, plural! He knew it was singular, but this feeling! He felt… overcome! Harry reached for Howell and Midha, and he looked askance at Serafina. Draco admirably stood still and did not reach for her.

“Mr. Potter…” a gentle voice said. Harry turned dazedly towards the sounds; McGonagall was speaking. “There is nothing to fear. This is a grand spectacle, I know, but it will be alright. The test is simple. Madam Pomfrey will cast the spell on you first, and afterwards, she’ll cast it on Draco. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Harry said faintly, still petting Howell and Midha.

“I do not understand why your owl is here, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore stated. “You may send her away.” Harry shook his head as Midha dug her claws into his shoulder. “Mr. Potter, she is not a part of this exam.”

“She stays.”

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore scolded.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry said stonily. “My owl is digging her claws into my shoulder. She wants to stay. So, she stays. I am not in the habit of forcing beings to do what they do not wish to do.”

“Mr. Potter, I will—”

“Albus, the owl’s presence will not compromise the results. Please, let us move on,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, and Dumbledore frowned at her. “Are you ready, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded, and as Madam Pomfrey raised her wand, Howell and Midha bit down on Harry.

Howell broke the skin above Harry’s left collarbone and Midha nipped his right ear. Harry screamed as a surge of magic knocked him to his hands and knees. When Harry’s focus returned, he realized he was staring at the floor and breathing heavily.

”Mr. Potter?”

Harry slowly sat back. “What happened? Was that it? Is it over?”

“That was not the test, Harry,” Lucius said.

“You are here to observe, Mr. Malfoy,” the headmaster said.

“Mr. Malfoy is correct, Mr. Potter. The exam is not painful. Will you allow me to cast it now?” Harry gave consent, and Madam Pomfrey raised her wand. “Two strong familiar bonds. The owl’s connection is newer.”

“The owl must go, then,” Dumbledore said.

Harry reached for Midha, who was now in his lap. No fucking way!

“No, Albus. That is not how this works. This type of bond is too advanced to be subjected to the rule you are attempting to enforce. And the owl was not his familiar until today. Pets and familiars have been known to react on instinct when they feel the relationship is under threat,” Pomfrey said.

“It is unfair to the other students, Poppy.”

“Albus, the reasoning behind the rule is to prevent the overburdening of a magical child’s core. And as the years passed, out of an abundance of caution, familiars for children fell out of favor. In this case, it is too late. The situation is what it is, and Mr. Potter’s core will have to adjust. To separate him from his familiars is unnecessary and would defeat the purpose of the rule regardless. Forced separation would be onerous. Now, Mr. Malfoy, may I test you?”

“This isn’t necessary,” Professor McGonagall said. “The original concern was that Serafina was Mr. Potter’s familiar. Clearly, she is not.”

“It’s best to continue, Minerva. There was a question last year about whether such a wild animal should be admitted into the castle. And if the beast is not a familiar, it will have to go,” Dumbledore said, completely oblivious to the looks he was receiving.

“Mr. Malfoy, may I begin?”

“Yes, Madam,” Draco said.

As before, when Pomfrey raised her wand, there was a bite. Serafina, already lying across the floor in a ready-to-pounce position, bit down hard on Draco’s calf. Draco managed not to scream, but he made a pained face and crumpled to the floor. Harry reached forward to help, but Snape grabbed a handful of his robes to stop him.

Now on his butt, Draco looked at his bleeding leg in shock. Then, he turned to Serafina. “I am not a deer.” Serafina leaned into his side.

“Mr. Malfoy, shall we try this again?” Draco nodded. The scan revealed an undeniably strong bond between Serafina and Draco. “Another indisputable bond. Boys, this category of bites must heal on their own. Please wash as normal and come see me tomorrow. I’d like to track their progress and make sure that they are healing properly.” They nodded in acknowledgment. Then, she turned to the rest of the group, “Am I needed for anything else?”

“No, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you for your assistance,” Mistress McGonagall said, and Pomfrey quickly exited.

Harry looked around the room and was pleased to see Snape had set up the recording station. He didn’t understand why no one else was speaking.

“Mr. Potter, while you are here, I would like to ask if you know anything about Professor Lockhart’s current predicament?”

“I’m not sure what you are referring to, Headmaster.”

“There are mirrors all around his office and classroom, Mr. Potter.”

“Is that what all the rumors are about? I was hoping to find out, but we were called into this meeting before class started.”

“You were not in class, Mr. Potter?”

“No, Headmaster. Professor Snape collected us when we were still waiting in the hall.”

Dumbledore looked at Snape, who nodded in confirmation. “I see. Be that as it may, you are on the list of students suspected of pranking Professor Lockhart. You are one of several students who have stood out to him as seeming to disbelieve his experience.” Harry nodded, and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “Are you nodding for any particular reason, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes. I do doubt Professor Lockhart’s claims. I think there are discrepancies in his books, and as a teacher, I think he is doing the students a disservice by focusing on his alleged accomplishments instead of on the curriculum we will be tested on in the future. I think students would be better off self-studying than attending his lessons.”

“Mr. Potter, it is not your place to make such assessments.”

“But I am entitled to have an opinion about what I’m learning and who I’m learning it from, Headmaster. Furthermore, I was invited to speak on the matter. At least, that is how I interpreted your questioning.” Harry looked around the room, estimating the responses of the others. No one seemed to have a problem with what he was saying, be it a blank face or understated approval.

“Returning to the subject, Mr. Potter. As a student on this list of plausible pranksters, I am formally requesting that you show me your wand’s history.”

“That is not how formal requests work, Headmaster,” McGonagall warned.

“Nonsense. We have two members of the board, three professors, a student, and a recording sphere. Surely, this is official enough.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Lucius said, “the original purpose of this meeting has been fulfilled. It is not meant to be an opportunity for other topics to be explored.”

“You are here to observe, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said icily.

“That was true during the approved purpose of the meeting. Now is another matter.”

Dumbledore ignored him and turned to face Harry. “Mr. Potter, the investigation will include you. Would you rather be searched here or in the Great Hall, during a meal, along with the others?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry hung his head low.

The other adults did not miss the look of self-satisfaction that flitted across Dumbledore’s face. Draco looked unbothered as he petted Serafina.

“I suppose it’s best to do this privately.” Harry waved his wand, unknowingly impressing Augusta Longbottom, to reveal its history.

With each spell that revealed itself, Dumbledore wondered how he had made such an error in judgment. He had determined that the permanent sticking charms used on the mirrors in Lockhart’s office and classroom meant that Harry had gotten the idea from Sirius Black. The mirrors themselves were regular mirrors, variable in size and weight. They were not transfigurations, and… the sticking charm!

“Well, Headmaster, do any of these spells implicate Mr. Potter in whatever has befallen Professor Lockhart?” Augusta Longbottom asked.

“It would appear not.” Dumbledore’s gaze fell on Draco, who was still sitting on the floor petting Serafina.

“Headmaster, I have warned you before. I will not allow a search of an entire house. Mr. Malfoy was not on Professor Lockhart’s list,” Professor McGonagall stated.

Draco looked up. “Now, you think I did something?” Draco shook his head in disgust and then held his wand out to Harry. “Let’s just get this over with. Would you perform the spell, Harry?”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked incredulously and nearly took a step back.

“Might as well try. He won’t let this go otherwise.”

Harry reverently reached for Draco’s wand and willed it to work a little. He didn’t know if Draco’s wand had requested blood like his had. Harry did not want Dumbledore to find out that Draco hadn't gotten his wand from Ollivander’s either. Maybe he already knew... Maybe he hadn’t checked... For fuck’s sake.

“Okay,” Harry said, taking a deep breath.

Draco’s history was similar, which wasn’t surprising given their shared classes, but his had some grooming charms too. Harry gauged it as Draco looking even more innocent.

He’s just a kid living his damn life!

“What of Mr. Malfoy’s wand history, Headmaster? Anything connoting culpability? Were combing charms involved in Professor Lockhart’s woes?” Augusta Longbottom asked dispassionately.

Dumbledore glared at her, and while they engaged in a staring contest, Lucius made his way to the boys. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

As the three reached the doors, however, Dumbledore said, “Mr. Malfoy, you are not authorized to be here beyond the meeting.”

“On the contrary, I suspected that this meeting might upset the children and requested permission ahead of time.” Lucius pulled out an official-looking form from his robes pocket. “Now, I am going to spend time with these two and make sure they are fully recovered before leaving.”

Lucius and the boys walked out of the hall and down to the dungeons. Once they were safe from eavesdropping, Lucius turned to Harry. “Do you have a preference for where we might go? The permission I requested allows me to keep you until I feel you are well.”

Harry tilted his head. “Will Professor Snape be joining us?”

“I hope so, but it all depends on how long he is held back,” Lucius admitted.

“Okay. How about you wait for Professor Snape while Draco and I go get some food? We’ll reconvene here and go from there.” Harry nodded to himself, liking the plan forming in his mind. Lucius agreed, and Harry pulled on Draco’s arm.

“Where are you thinking?” Draco whispered.

“7th floor.” Harry grinned mischievously. “Start thinking of fitting atmospheres.”

Chapter Text

After collecting Lucius and Snape, Harry led the group through the parsel-passages to the 7th floor. Lucius was fascinated by the hidden paths, but he did his best to be “the adult.” Harry could barely contain his laughter as he watched Lucius listen distractedly to Draco’s account of the familiars testing from his point of view.

“Seraphina ruined my trousers, Father…”

She didn’t… Harry pressed his lips together.

“You’re fooling no one, menace. The event upset you, and there’s no need to deny it,” Snape said in a low voice.

“It did, but I’m fine now. Midha and Howell are even more protected now, and my emotional state helped their plans.”

“Their plans?”

“They had planned to bite me.” Harry rolled his eyes affectionately as he gazed up at his owl and patted Howell through his robes. “It’s why Midha wanted to come with us.” The owl in question was shuffling around his head. “I didn’t know, of course, but I like that they were on top of things.”

“Harry, don’t you think Shacklebolt meant what he said?” Draco asked.

“About keeping our familiars safe?” Harry asked. Draco nodded. “I think so, yeah. Whether he could have successfully stopped Dumbledore’s machinations is another matter.”

“That’s what I think, but Father isn’t so sure.”

“He’s always struck me as Dumbledore’s man.”

“Today’s display may have disrupted Shacklebolt’s impression of the headmaster, Lucius,” Snape said.

“Perhaps, but I’ve seen the old man talk his way out of many situations.”

“I’d have sooner left Hogwarts than let that hoary harrier take Midha or Howell,” Harry said.

“‘Hoary harrier?’” Snape drawled.

“You wouldn’t!” Draco exclaimed alarmedly at the same time.

Harry bristled. He hadn’t realized how that would sound. If even Seren could feel abandoned… Harry hadn’t meant that he’d rather leave Draco…

“I, uh, wouldn’t want to leave, Draco, but… I was feeling a lot of feelings. I wasn’t in my right mind, but I’d have done something. Maybe I could have asked to release them into the wild and snuck them back in?”

“I’d have intervened,” Lucius said. “Shacklebolt was not your only option. Draco, I didn't mean to suggest that if the auror had proved useless, the consequences were irremediable.”

“Hoary harrier, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smirked. “You like that one? It’s more satisfying than saying he’s full of sugar.”

The group continued walking, with Draco filling most of the silence. He was so excited to see his dad; it hardly mattered that Dumbledore’s unpleasantness had been the impetus for the visit. Harry was happy for Draco, and under different circumstances, he might have joined in the fun. But he had urgent business to attend to.

Harry came to a stop. “We’re coming up on the desired exit, but I have something to show you first. Draco already knows what it is, and before I expose this secret, I need you both to know that I have no intention of parting with it — no matter what magic it may or may not contain…”

“Mr. Potter, if you have something dangerous, I will not allow it.”

“I know, sir, but this is a grey area. At least, for me, it is.” Harry took a deep breath and pulled out the Marauders’ Map. It was still blank, but Snape eyed it with a hint of disdain.

That’s weird. Can he tell what kind of magic was used?

“Harry, what is that?”

“It’s alright, Father.”

In the ideal world, Harry would never have shown this map to the adults. They were probably obligated to confiscate and destroy it. Even Harry could envision a thousand scenarios to illustrate why such a map should not be in anyone’s hands, much less those of unpredictable children.

Worse yet, what if such a map had fallen into the swellheaded headmaster’s hands? How was it not in his clutches now? Was Harry’s father not in the Order of the Phoenix?

And what of Voldemort? Had Pettigrew not seen the value of such knowledge? Harry didn’t know how the map had remained at Hogwarts, but he was convinced that if the magic behind it had been easy to replicate, Voldemort’s ravages would’ve been grislier.

Annoyingly, part of Harry wanted to know Pettigrew’s reasoning for choosing Voldemort. Had the Dark Lord targeted him, or had the rat independently made his case? Why had Dumbledore not seemed like the better champion? Had Pettigrew not anticipated a satisfying placement in Dumbledore’s promised future? Had Dumbledore tried to appeal to Pettigrew or did he overlook him? Use him?

What would the “light side” have done with these kinds of maps? Horrors could be committed by anyone…

“Harry?” Draco said.

“I was just thinking…”

“That much was obvious, Mr. Potter. What is this parchment?”

“It’s a map of Hogwarts, and it reveals the names and locations of a majority of the occupants… It will help us avoid detection.”

“Mr. Potter, hand it here.”

“But, sir…”

“I’ll hand it back, but I need to check something.”

Harry nodded and handed the map over. Breathe, Harry. Lucius and Snape need to know…

Snape sneered at something only he could see.

Huh… “There’s a password, sir.” As promised, Snape returned the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Snape scoffed. “It’s over the top, I know.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Indeed.”

What’s up with Snape?!

———

As Draco set the scene of the Room of Requirement, Lucius studied the map as Snape looked on. Harry absently contemplated things from Lucius’s perspective: he was being pulled in several directions today, and Harry planned to bombard him with more information still.

Draco had chosen the family room at Malfoy Manor, and the other three soon joined him. The only difference was the addition of a dinner table. Harry set about unpacking the food, and they ate in silence for a while. Lucius and Snape kept glancing at the map, but even they appreciated the sustenance.

“We are not on the map,” Lucius observed.

“We have two theories about that. One is that this room was unknown to the creators, but Draco posits that the room is more likely unplottable. There are flaws in both.” Harry shrugged. “It could be its own being that formed over time. Anything seems possible.” Lucius and Severus exchanged a look that Harry couldn’t discern, but Draco snickered. “Anyway, I’ve been in here a few times, and Dumbledore never comes across as panicking about my absence. So, whatever is going on, we are here and not here. And that works for me.”

Draco chuckled. “Harry has a laid-back approach to magic.”

“Indeed. What other conjectures do you have?”

Harry frowned. “Are you alright, sir?” Snape narrowed his eyes. “Okay, well, Theo was—”

“You told Mr. Nott?”

“No, of course not. What’s going on with you?” Again, Snape did not offer insight into his shifting mood. “Theo doesn’t need to know why a topic is brought up to enjoy the discussion, sir. May I continue?”

“Go on.”

“Theo said that the homonculous charm is purported to have too limited a scope and that those who push for its study, or alternative applications, are often shut down.”

“Because people don’t like to be tracked,” Draco added.

Harry nodded. “Exactly. So—”

“Get to the point, Mr. Potter.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Wow.” There was a beat of silence before Harry shook his head. “The conclusion is that the creators probably got lucky during experimentation.”

“You have inferred that your father ‘got lucky’? You don’t conceive that he held power beyond his years?”

Harry furrowed his brows. What the fuck was going on with Snape?!

“Sir, I cannot think of any other explanation. If they had gone into this project as meticulously as it might appear to the incurious eye, why aren’t there other maps of its kind?”

“Perhaps there are.”

“Okay, sure, but they weren’t key tools in the war even though the mapmakers were involved. Take Pettigrew: would he not have traded this knowledge? Voldie wouldn’t have had to attack Godric’s Hollow. He could have mapped out any place that my parents were known to frequent.”

“They were under—“

“I know, sir. It was just an example. Even before my parents’ seclusion, with this kind of map, Voldie could’ve harassed them more strategically… Here’s the thing, I think a ritual was involved, and given Moony’s lycanthropy, at least one of their attempts was on a full moon day. Maybe before sunset, with the moon barely visible in the sky? If they involved their animagus forms too… I mean, anything is possible.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Lucius asked.

Harry smoothed his hand across the map. “These were reckless boys. If I’m right, they haphazardly chained spells together.”

“Homonculous, homenum revelio, and regular revelio definitely,” Draco said.

“And they had no business experimenting with their animagus forms so young. That’s an advanced transfiguration of your person, for fuck’s sake. And they were still developing. Who knows how their animal form influenced them? As far as I can tell, there comes a point in each change where you are one with the animal.

“Like a clock with two hands. One represents the human and the other, the animal within. But there is still a noon and a midnight. Do you see what I mean?” Snape narrowed his eyes, and Lucius frowned. Draco laughed and took another bite of food. “The way I see it, people like to think of it as this: you are still you in animal form, but there’s a reason why you have to focus on holding onto your humanity. There’s a reason why this should never be attempted unsupervised…”

Who would they have been without their madcap endeavors? Did they become more incautious? Would Pettigrew have betrayed his friends if he hadn’t given himself over to his inner rat’s skittish nature? Or maybe he was an unequivocally treacherous asshole!

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, “are you all right?”

Harry snorted. “Yes, sir. I just think that they took a massive risk, and we cannot know the whole of the effects. And they left the map behind…” Harry shook his head.

“And they called themselves marauders,” Draco said distastefully.

“Yup. It all screams ‘heedless of the consequences.’ So, yes, Professor Snape, I think they got lucky. And maybe that’s a good thing because this…” Harry shuddered.

Snape gave Harry an indecipherable look. “Yet, you want to keep it?”

Harry smirked ruefully. “It was my dad’s.”

“And it can help keep you safe, menace.”

“That too,” Harry smiled a truer smile, and Snape looked steadier.

“What about when you’re in the walls?” Lucius asked.

Harry gestured to Draco. “That’s inconclusive. When Harry is holding the map while inside the wall, he sees himself. When I’m holding the map and Harry’s in the wall, he sometimes flickers in and out. I think that when he’s closer to the wall’s surface, it will look like Harry’s in the hallway. Sometimes, it’s as if the castle is protecting him.”

Draco paused, his forehead wrinkling as he drifted into his mind for a minute. Given their last conversation, Harry was pretty sure that the blond would keep his thoughts to himself: they needed the right balance of knowing and not knowing. Draco could imagine whatever he wanted, but confirmation was entirely different.

“There are also the added factors of blood, intention, and closeness. Maybe since I’m Prongs’s son, the map can more easily place me when I’m the one holding it, or maybe I inherited editing rights?”

Draco snorted. “I still don’t think that’s a thing, Harry.”

Harry laughed. “Anyway, when Draco is holding the map, I know that he’s keeping tabs on me, and we’re pretty close. It’s not the strongest possibility, but it’s not like we could get other people to track me to compare.” Harry studied Snape and Lucius. “I guess we could now. But before, we were rolling with it.”

“My son ‘rolled with it’?”

Harry chortled. “Not really, but we do still use our rings.” The boys held up their hands.

“And we also have contingency plans, but” — Draco looked worriedly at Harry — “we know that since this wall-walking ability is guideless, it’s all trial and error. We are well aware that there may come a time when Harry is stuck somewhere I cannot place and no one can reach. So, he trains, and I practice patience.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Also, I could disappear from the map and be perfectly fine. There’s no sense in raising the alarm, especially with Dumbledore around.”

“What is your contingency plan?” Snape asked.

Harry looked at Snape in surprise. “You.”

“Me?” Snape hid his shock with an unimpressed scowl.

“Yup, you. I think it’s a good plan.” Snape exchanged a look with Lucius. “So, Lucius, how are things?” Harry asked excitedly. Draco groaned. “Okay, okay, I get it. How about you keep chatting with Snape, and I’ll have a private word with your father? In fact…” Harry closed his eyes and asked the Room to add Lucius’s office. “Amazing. Come on, Lucius.”

Draco wanted to protest, but he also didn’t want to hear about Knockturn Alley. So, he said nothing, and Snape glanced at the map still open on the table. Once in “Lucius’ office,” Harry waved his wand to add privacy wards just in case.

“I take it that we will not be talking about the alley.”

“I want to. You know I do, but there’s a more urgent topic. Draco cannot know about it. You’ll have to tell Snape — but not in the castle. I have to speak quickly, so please do not interrupt. For the moment, I need you to listen, but that does not mean that you have to do anything with what I say. But I hope that you get on board. I do not trust talking about this in the journals, much less via owl post…

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but here I go… I am in contact with a presence that represents Hogwarts. Her name is Seren. Draco saw her on the map, but I have no idea how that was even possible. Like I said before, I think my closeness to Draco is at play. I don’t want him to worry; hence, he sees me. Get it?” Lucius shook his head infinitesimally. “But you are following me so far, right?”

“Yes.”

“As I reassured him about Seren, I had to say something, but I was sleep-deprived and likely bungled it. I referred to Seren as a Hogwarts ‘staple.’ He knows that I cannot tell him more than that, but he’s an inquisitive one. So, please don’t let him fool you into thinking that he knows more than he does. Are you still with me?” Lucius nodded. “Okay. Seren informed me about Pettigrew. Shit. I told Draco that too, but that’s it! I wouldn't have told him anything if he hadn’t seen her on the map.

“We talked. He knows he has to stay ignorant, but Draco speculates, even by Slytherin standards. So, please, play dumb if he asks the right kind of questions.”

“I understand, Harry. Our goal is the same.”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Of course, yeah. As I was saying, Seren told me about Pettigrew. She also asked for my help with removing the Philosopher’s Stone and the Mirror of Erised. Draco has put two and two together, but I deliberately did not tell him anything. He did help me train, though…”

Fuck! Draco knows too much!

“I was not prepared to talk to you today…” Harry shook his head to clear it. “Let’s fast forward. Seren is legit, and she is interested in having the Hogwarts wards strengthened. There are multiple options to explore. Think of it like building up the wards in stages, further masking when and how it happened.” Lucius’ eyes widened. “Are you alright? Does this make sense?” Lucius nodded. “Excellent. Now, the part we’d like your help with will take place in this room. You, me, and hopefully, Snape will perform the first ritual. Seren knows what we did with Noctu and likes this trio for the ceremonial. You are a parent and on the board of governors; Snape is a professor and a head of house; and I am a student. So—”

Lucius put up a hand. “And?” Harry stared, brow furrowed. “You are ‘a student’ and…?”

“Oh… That bit is hazy. Seren opines that ‘founders magic’ may run through my veins, but she won’t expand on her hypothesis. Regardless, I have acted like a Hogwarts protector. So, you can think of me as a student and a different kind of overseer.”

“Together, we are a type of circle, like the ‘maiden, mother, crone’ configuration…” Lucius said ponderingly. “Did she give you the name of the desired observance?”

“She knows it as ‘The Essence of the Heart,’” Harry said carefully.

“Harry,” Lucius said slowly. “Are you implying that the myth of the Heart of Hogwarts is real?”

“I am requesting your participation in a ritual. Now that you know its name, perhaps research could help you and Professor Snape in your decision. I want you to be at ease with your choice, and if it’s a ‘yes,’ I ask that you please decide on an auspicious time that works for us all. Other than that, there isn’t much I can divulge. And I don’t know what will be in the Room on the day of the communion. What I do know is that whatever takes place is a beginning. It will be a process.

“I hope to also do something involving Neville’s greenhouse project and incorporate the energy of the public quidditch matches. I think I might need to reach out to the centaurs, too, at some point. Given the headmaster’s obstructionist tendencies, we have to take this one step at a time. But this part — the one involving the three of us — is key to the others working well. Seren has zero interest in empowering Dumbledore. This is about fortifying Hogwarts.”

Lucius sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry that we don’t have more time to discuss this, and I’m sorry that writing about this seems unwise.” Lucius stepped forward and gathered Harry’s hands. “Harry, you are too young to be leading such plans alone.”

“I am not alone,” Harry said earnestly. “Not anymore.” Harry willed Lucius to fathom the deeper meaning.

“You tell Draco as little as you can to protect him. You tell Severus fragments to help him navigate the precarious mediation with Dumbledore. And I’m not as available to you as I’d prefer to be.”

“And Argo can’t pop in. And I see Madam Medallion even less than I see you.” Harry smiled. “But I still have all of you. And most of you can talk to each other.” Harry squeezed Lucius’ hands and jostled them as he continued. “There’s a lot of good here.”

Lucius pulled Harry into a hug, and Harry gingerly hugged him back. Lucius smiled and kissed Harry’s head.

“Okay.” Lucius pulled back and moved his hands to Harry’s shoulders. “I will inform Severus—”

“Away from the castle,” Harry said urgently.

Lucius nodded. “I understand. I will also do my research. Now, please, let’s talk about Knockturn before we step out of here. I’d rather we not lie outright, and I could use a calmer transition.”

Harry laughed and happily listened to the latest news. It was lovely to be speaking with Lucius in person.

———

Harry made his way to Snape’s office that night. The Slytherin head of house’s mood had shifted, but Harry had still been aware of an underlying vexation. Something about the Marauders’ Map had irked Snape, and that bothered Harry. He had half-expected an interrogation, but Snape had exhibited more than distrust. His manner had communicated anger.

Snape had known Harry’s mother, but that didn’t say anything about Snape’s connection to James Potter. From his memories, Harry knew that Snape didn’t think much of his father’s intellect. But most people probably seemed unintelligent to Snape. And just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean that you hate them.

But anger was not indifference… Maybe Snape didn’t dismissively think that James Potter was stupid or unworthy of attention…

Four marauders, thick as thieves…

Did Snape hate them all? If so, why? What the fuck did they do that even after time, death, arrest, and distance, Snape was not over it?

Harry had turned to the Marauders’ Map first because Snape had reacted oddly when it was in his hands. He had entertained the possibility that the parchment could shed light on the mystery. So, when the dorm had gone quiet, Harry had looked a little closer.

Harry did not like what the marauders’ echoes had conveyed.

———

Harry wall-walked to the potions classroom and then knocked on Snape’s office door. He knew Snape was in there, but he did not receive an invitation to enter.

Harry knocked again. “Please, Snape.”

The door swung open. “Now’s not a convenient time, Mr. Potter.”

“I reckoned that we need to talk.”

“It’s past curfew.”

“My father was an asshole, wasn’t he?”

Snape looked down at his desk, and his hair fell forward. “I am not the best one to ask about your father, Mr. Potter.”

Harry pulled out the map and gently placed it on his professor’s desk. “Could you please take another look at the map? I want to see if the conference helped.” Snape sneered. “I’ll turn around.” Harry did as he said and focused his attention on a shelf with preserved specimens and potion ingredients.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Snape said quietly, and silence followed. “Why is the map allowing me access?”

Harry did not turn around. “I told the revenants that I would gladly destroy them if they continued to disrespect you.”

“Sit down and explain.”

“As if I needed more proof that my father and I had very different upbringings, I learned that the map was specifically made to insult you. The adolescent imprint of my father told me, ‘No son of mine would ever be friends with…’ Well, you know…” Harry inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what I’d be like today if I’d been raised by James and Lily Potter, Snape. But I know that the me I am now holds you in high esteem. I hope that you never confuse the me that sits before you with the one I might have been. I am not James Potter.”

“I know that, menace.”

“I wanted to make sure that you knew that a vestige of my father wasn’t going to convince me of what I know to be true. I may feel the loss of parental figures, Snape, but I’m not that fucking desperate.”

“Language.”

“When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time alone. Children who walk alone attract attention, and not just from concerned citizens who worry that loving parents are searching for their lost little lambs… I’m not unfamiliar with being targeted, and it seems to me that my father came upon that standpoint much later than you and I did.”

Snape leaned back in his chair. “Yes, your father was an asshole. From my perspective.”

“Marauders are takers… If my father and his friends could figure out how to become animagi, they could’ve picked up a fucking dictionary too.”

Snape snorted softly. “That word bothers you tremendously.”

“Who the fuck names themselves after a group of people who rove around with the sole objective of plundering? ‘Pirates’ is more ambiguous! Little kids imagine going on great adventures in search of sunken treasures. But marauders? Magic is about intention, and they articulated, ‘Hi Magic, we want your help with our raids. P.S. Help us insult Severus Snape.’”

“I am not the right one to talk to about your father, menace.”

“I suppose not. It’s one thing to vent, but if you went off on one too, I’d probably get defensive.”

“It’s okay to love your father even though he was an asshole. He was not an asshole to you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood to pretend that my father would have continued loving me if only he’d gotten the chance.”

“Did the map say anything else that upset you?”

“The ‘No son of mine’ comment was plenty.” Harry leaned forward and tapped a corner of the map. It looked singed. “I demonstrated that I am indeed a Potter heir.”

“I don’t…”

“The map is hardy, but in my hands, should I wish it, the parchment can undoubtedly become ash.”

“This map can help you.”

“Perhaps I have a reckless streak too.”

“Don’t encourage it, Mr. Potter.” Snape then said the words that returned the map to its inert state.

“Do you want to study it some more?”

“I’ve seen enough for now. You have useful tools and abilities, Mr. Potter, but never underestimate how vigilant you must be.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have your cloak?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll escort you back to the common room.”

Harry stood up. “Professor Snape, I’m always saying that I won’t hold people responsible for what their family did… But that doesn’t change how I feel now. I hope you don’t mind me doing this…” Harry cleared his throat and straightened. “As the last of the Potter line and an heir to the House of Black, I apologize for the harm my forebears caused you.” Harry bowed shallowly for a full minute.

“That was not necessary, Mr. Potter.”

“I feel better.” Harry smirked.

“That was for you, then?”

Harry grinned. “Come on, Snape. It’s past curfew.”

Snape snorted. “Of course, I shan’t delay you any longer.”

———

Snape took a sip of his brandy. It had been a long day. But Lucius had been insisting on an off-site meeting since the day of the familiars testing. Snape had tried to visit sooner, but Dumbledore had been exceptionally annoying of late.

Now that Snape had heard Lucius’s tale, though, he was wishing that he’d postponed the visit a little longer. He did not feel clear-headed enough for this. Snape rubbed his temples.

“So, you’re telling me that you deduce that the myth of the ‘Heart of Hogwarts’ is real?”

“Yes.”

“And Mr. Potter — who did not feel comfortable discussing this with me at Hogwarts — wants us to participate in a ritual some refer to as ‘The Essence of the Heart’?”

“Yes.”

Snape took another sip of his drink. “And you’re thinking that Samhain is propitious…” Snape muttered something that Lucius could not hear and shook his head. “An entity of some kind, which we’re calling Seren, guided Mr. Potter to do this… And you — in your infinite wisdom — determined that it best to place me under an additional vow because Mr. Potter is not giving me the information himself?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have more to add?”

“Yes.” Snape gestured for him to continue. “I think that the Dark Lord wasn’t the only one to mark Harry that night.”

Snape narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You’re not suggesting that the headmaster is another dark lord?”

“No, and I don’t give a damn about the prophecy. I simply find the language orientating. Magic finds a way, Severus. I’d argue that the headmaster did more to mark Harry that night than the Dark Lord did. The Dark Lord wasn’t even around to spread the word, Severus. From what we know, the only ones there that night were Harry, you, Sirius, and Hagrid. Maybe Pettigrew.

“None of you were in a position to be heard. The muggles Harry was left with certainly didn’t perpetuate the story, if indeed they ever knew it. The headmaster could’ve disappeared the boy and claimed that his body had become dust. That would’ve been genuine protection. Instead, he composed and promulgated an allegory featuring Harry, a symbol of such purity that he achieved the impossible. The idea of ‘Harry Potter’ became the guiding light.

“Is that not a form of marking him? By then, the headmaster was already full of himself and failing the students of Hogwarts. That night, the headmaster extended his reach and wronged a boy who wasn’t yet under his care. Much like the Dark Lord, Dumbledore helped to create his opposition. Do you see?”

“No.”

“Magic finds a way, Severus. On some level, all magical humans are connected, be it through blood, magic, both, or the causes and effects of either. So, the founders magic could flow through Harry… In his way, the headmaster marked Harry. The headmaster, connected to the school, connected to generations of students, many becoming leaders themselves… He’s connected to the boy’s parents, connected to the boy’s would-be murderer… The headmaster of Hogwarts looked upon this boy and decided that he would be a beacon of hope…”

“And magic saw the way…”

“Yes! And this boy turned his need to survive, thrive even, into fuel for his magic. Harry walks through walls, Severus! The Heart of Hogwarts is said to be unreachable. But what if one comes along who can pass through the very walls that keep it protected?”

“It would have more protection than stone, Lucius,” Severus said doubtfully.

“Yes, but Harry has walked through wards. And if the heart wanted to be found, needed to be found… Then, along comes a boy with all the right qualities…”

“Magic found a way…”

“Yes.”

“The headmaster marked him...” Snape said quietly as he stared at a spot on the wall.

“Consider this: would the Philosopher’s Stone or the Mirror of Erised have even been in the school if it weren’t for Dumbledore?”

“Pettigrew likely would’ve.”

“Yes, and we’ll never know if Seren would’ve wanted that rat out of Hogwarts enough to task an 11-year-old boy with his removal.”

“Quirrell…”

“What about him?”

“The stone and the mirror, on their own, should not have been in the school. But Quirrell’s pursuit may have escalated the direness… The hole in his head…” Snape said to himself.

“What is it, Severus?”

“The headmaster’s theories about what happened to Quirrell and the missing artifacts shift for unknown reasons and are rarely expanded upon. I listen, Lucius, and try hard not to dismiss all while still lending a confiding ear. I can occasionally challenge but I cannot pry.”

“Or scoff, I’d imagine.”

“The one quality that these theories share is denial. Dumbledore insists that the stone poses no immediate threat…”

“The hubris of that man.” Lucius shook his head and rolled his eyes. “But what does this have to do with Quirrell?”

“Would Seren have been unnerved by an ordinary man who wanted to live a longer life?”

“Are you thinking that this confirms that Quirrell was working towards bringing back the Dark Lord?”

I’m thinking that Quirrell WAS the Dark Lord… Snape rubbed his forehead. If there was a shade… Would the boy know? Could he know and say nothing… to anyone…? No…

Severus stood up and paced. “The dark marks, the book… the research Mr. Potter said that the goblins are doing…”

“Research related to the Dark Lord, yes.”

The boy said that there was something in his scar… He said that he thought he heard Quirrell say “master”… Quirrell looked like he’d suffered a shock…

“Tell me, Lucius. If Mr. Potter believed that the threat was already here, would he still be devoted to business ventures?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. What are you thinking, Severus?”

Snape sat down. “I’m thinking that I’m more willing to ride this ridiculous wave of Mr. Potter’s. Tell me again about the ritual.”

You’re not going to tell me what you were thinking, are you? Lucius exhaled audibly and began again.

———

Harry was walking Luna to the Ravenclaw Tower after a pleasant walk outside. He and Luna had been helping Neville in the greenhouse and decided to have a stroll on the grounds before returning to the castle. Luna was such a lover of animals that she easily welcomed Howell and Serafina’s company. Harry appreciated that about her. Howell need not hesitate to traverse Harry’s body when Luna was around, that was for sure.

“Harry, I’d prefer sweet jelly beans. I do not want to burn my tongue.”

“You got it.”

“How’s Daphne’s plan coming along?”

Harry laughed. “She says that the cards are harder to make than she had presumed. The boxes move more than they should.”

Luna nodded. “Words like to flow. It’s best to let them.”

“Should I tell her?”

“No. She’ll figure it out soon. But you won’t win, Harry.”

“That’s okay.”

“It is. Losing won’t spoil your fun. Thank you for the company, Harry. I’d like to have a familiar someday. It’s too early, though.” Luna stroked Howell in farewell.

“All in good time.” Harry smiled softly.

He was used to Luna’s intuitions. With experience, it grew easier to distinguish a regular statement from an insightful one. Like with the current topic of familiars, Harry could tell that it was best not to challenge her. If he had asked why she couldn’t get one yet, the conversation would have gotten choppy, and Harry didn’t like to see her off-kilter. Acceptance was key to Luna’s comfort, and that mattered to Harry.

“I’m sorry, Harry. My time with Howell has delayed your plans. Now, you’ll have to return the long way. Ginny is not herself.” Luna petted Serafina and waved goodbye.

“Bye, Luna.” Harry sighed, tucked Howell into his robes, and briefly squatted to stroke Serafina. “Sorry, girl, no more running tonight. You have to stay by my side.” She butted his head and leaned into the scratches. “Alright, let’s get going.” They headed back to the dungeons more publicly than he’d intended. Harry didn’t like denying Serafina a run through the parsel-passages, but Luna had spoken, and he was no fool.

“Hi, Harry!” Ginny appeared as soon as Harry arrived at the first staircase.

“Hello, Ginny.” Harry tried to continue, but Ginny made a small step into his path. It wasn’t to block him, exactly, but her intention was obvious. “Do you have something to say?” Harry asked as politely as he could.

“Oh, sorry.” Ginny giggled. “I thought that you might have something to ask me.” Ginny’s eyes were wide with anticipation, and Harry couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. “Where’ve you been, Harry? You’re pretty far from the dungeons.”

“I was escorting Luna back to Ravenclaw Tower,” Harry answered generously. He was painfully aware of the onlooking portraits.

“You were still with Luna?” Ginny frowned. “I saw you on the grounds with her. You two seem close.” Harry could not identify Ginny’s tone, but he didn’t like it. “Maybe you could take me on a walk sometime.”

“I am not interested in doing that, Ginny,” Harry said gently. Then, he noticed a flare around her neck. Was that her necklace? He glanced back at her face to find her eyes tearing up. Fuck. “I better get back to the dungeons. Bye.”

Harry took a step back and walked around her. But Ginny just stood there, and he forced himself to not look back. Harry walked as innocently as he could. He wasn’t a boy with misgivings. There was nothing odd about that chat. He was merely a 12-year-old who politely declined another student’s suggestion.

———

When Harry stepped into the Slytherin common room, he let his emotions and thoughts hit him. He was attracting attention, but he didn’t care. He scanned the room and saw Theo talking to Gemma.

Perfect. Harry hurried over. “I have a question.”

“O-kay… Go on, ask,” Gemma said.

Harry nodded jerkily. “Are there simple-looking chains, like a necklace, that make you like someone?”

“Like someone?” Theo said to himself, already searching his brain.

“Harry” — Draco walked over — “start from the beginning.”

Harry told them about Ginny’s demeanor, roundabout invitation, and watery eyes. Most importantly, he described the necklace and its little bursts.

“Something about this sounds familiar,” Gemma said.

“Sounds like those Covet-Me chains!” Pansy interjected from her position on a nearby couch. Then, she flipped the page of her magazine.

Harry’s eyes widened, and he turned to Draco. “That’s it! She offers no explanation?”

Pansy’s head whipped up. “Oh! Sorry, Harry. I was reading an article about Lockhart. Word is spreading that he’s basically in love with himself — as if that hadn’t been patent.” Pansy rolled her eyes, and Harry glared. “Okay, okay… how do I explain this?”

Gemma gasped, “I remembered where I heard about this!” Then, she shushed herself and gave Pansy her attention too.

“The Covet-Me chains used to be freely given to people who were marrying for reasons other than love. They were meant to heighten feelings. For instance, if you are curious about a person, the chain would elevate it a bit so that you’d be more likely to ask a question. The purpose was to help the couple connect.”

“Would it act like a love potion?” Theo asked, and Harry’s eyes goggled.

Pansy shook her head exaggeratedly for Harry’s benefit. “No. Absolutely not. It was meant to nudge them in a more united direction. The aim was to minimize resentment over not having chosen each other. There was no stigma attached to the chains. They were a relationship-building tool and an unspoken acknowledgment that you were entering into an uncomfortable situation.”

“But doesn’t it heighten all feelings?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Pansy said. “If you felt disgusted by your partner, you’d be more likely to show it. But that was taken into account. It was a resource that you could use or not use at your discretion.”

“How would we know if Ms. Weasley’s necklace is one of those?” Draco asked.

Pansy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of the flares that Harry described. If that's a normal occurrence, it probably isn’t visible to most. Maybe Harry noticed it because he was standing nearby when she had a strong emotion. Or maybe it’s faulty. They are simple-looking, but they vary in design.”

“How were they made?” Theo asked.

“I think there was one supplier. The wearer’s family never made them, if that’s what you mean,” Pansy answered, and Theo nodded.

“Tell Snape,” Gemma said confidently. “He can observe her or pass it to McGonagall, saying that one of his students expressed a concern.”

“Maybe the twins could get it away from her?”

“No, Harry,” Draco said. “There’s no need for scheming on this one. Go to Snape. Never mind, let’s go now.” Draco pulled on Harry’s arm, and Harry followed, still in his head about what he considered to be a staggeringly unsettling necklace.

———

Snape would sort it. Thank Magic for that!

“Are you alright, Harry?” Pansy asked. Draco was sitting next to him on the floor, which was not the blond’s preference. Draco petted Serafina, but it was like he was also soothing Harry.

“Yes. Thanks for knowing about those necklaces…”

Pansy blushed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Pans.”

“I don’t understand. Is Harry in shock?” Theo asked.

“He’s processing the implications of magical manipulation—”

“Abuse,” Harry interrupted, and Draco nodded. “Love potions…”

“Are not lovely,” Daphne said.

“Exactly! What the fuck?! How the fuck are people supposed to protect themselves from all of the…?” Harry arced his arm as if to encompass the whole world. “I…”

WHAT THE FUCK? What good was a knife against a “love potion?” What was “trust” in a world where poisoned food could do far more insidious things than kill you? How were such things not “unforgivable” too?

“There are measures that—” Theo began.

“Not now,” Daphne whispered.

Pansy said, “Harry, I know that the regulations and preventive measures don’t feel like enough. As a society, we rely too heavily on convention and the illusion of ethics. Learning to navigate the dangers is an ongoing process. We start young, and—”

“What about those who don’t? What about those who might never discover that they were messed with? What happens to those who never get the chance to make their own choices? What about those who don’t even know it could happen? What of those who don’t start learning young?”

“Like muggles?” someone further away said.

Harry looked up angrily. He didn’t know who had asked, and though the derision had been subtle, Harry didn’t care for the arrogance. He knew that many people in that room were wondering the same thing. This was normal to them, and that gave them a false sense of security. And that pissed Harry off even more!

“Like me,” Harry gritted. “Have you forgotten that I wasn’t told about magic until I was 11 years old? I'm hardly immune to it now, am I? Knowledge is the first step, not the protection itself. What about you?” Harry’s eyes glanced over the room’s occupants. “Do you know if someone close — someone you trust — used magic to shape you? Do you know without a shadow of a doubt that your favorite toy was free from compulsion?

“I don’t expect anyone here to understand my feelings because I can’t even tell what they are. But as Slytherins, I’d have thought that you’d appreciate that conceit can be its own end. We like to think that we trust no one, but our wholeness depends on the ethics of everyone in this room — whether we like it or not. We don’t scan every shared treat or letter received. We rely on beliefs. We presume that our peers wouldn’t take the risk or that they’d have nothing to gain. But what about the unreservedly crazy, huh?

“What about the ones who fuck with you because they can? Or because they want to? Are we correctly interpreting the actions of those around us? Power has its appeal, sure, but we all know that there’s always something or someone more powerful. More than that, we know strategy can circumvent strength. So, yes, I sound muggley, but for fuck’s sake, is the idea of an unforeseen threat that passé to you?”

“We’re used to it,” someone said, and again, Harry didn’t catch the speaker.

Harry sighed and stood. “I see a demonstration is in order.”

The room tensed. Good.

“Harry…”

Harry pulled out his wand and handed it to Draco. While confusion filled the room, Harry threw his knife.

“Harry!”

“What the fuck?!” Marcus jumped up, and others echoed his feelings.

“It’s in the fucking wall!”

“What if you’d missed?”

“Did that pass by close to my head?”

Draco slipped Harry’s wand back into Harry’s hand and stood up, with his wand out too. “I think we all understand what Harry is saying.”

“I fucking don’t!”

“Harry, are you going to fucking explain yourself?” Adrian asked.

“Will you listen?”

The Slytherins muttered irritatedly but gave Harry their attention. “Every day you trust me to not throw my knife at your heart, use my parseltongue to set a snake on you, or turn your most conspicuous weakness against you.”

“Lockhart,” someone said.

Harry nodded. “And I am trusting you to not use my ignorance against me. I am trusting you to not use subtle magic — magic that I might never have cause to learn about — against me.”

“How do you know we haven’t?” Cassius asked curiously.

“Did you miss the part about my magical guardian’s high regard for goblin offerings?”

“The tests.”

“Bingo.”

“For fuck’s sake, Harry!”

Harry bewilderedly studied Daphne’s expression. “Oh, right. Posso!”

“Porro!”

Harry chuckled. “I might be a lost cause, Daph. I’m too used to ‘Bingo.’”

“Get your damn knife. I might as well hand out the cards.”

———

Slytherins did what they do best. They adapted to the new vibe in the room, but Harry could tell that he had given them food for thought.

It was so muggley of them to understand the point in one situation but not in another. Humans were humans, magical or not.

Did the Slytherins not travel in groups, knowing full well that other houses might not evaluate the risk of “causing harm” in the same way? Ronald Weasley certainly didn’t chew over the consequences of offending the “House of Potter” when he confronted Harry. That sort of logic might work amongst traditional magical families, but not all. The Slytherins knew this and accounted for it; that didn’t mean that they did it all the time.

Perhaps it took too much energy to be cautious all day long, or maybe it was just nicer to let your guard down in comfortable surroundings. Conceivably, there was more at play here than the difference between Harry’s and the other Slytherins’ exposure to magical knowledge — quantity and quality. Maybe this had more to do with the disparity between knowing that someone had your back and believing that dispossession could happen… again.

Harry’s world had vastly improved since leaving the Dursleys, but he wasn’t yet free of Dumbledore’s plans. A part of Harry often reflected on how easily his life could’ve gone the other way. What if Petunia had not been open to making the deal? What if he’d never met Madam Medallion? What if Draco hadn’t been so friendly? Without Draco, he could have led a different kind of secluded life…

Then, there was Seren…

Harry knew that he belonged with the Goblin Nation. Like them, the Malfoys and Snape had his back, but it was hard to dispense with the doubt. The insecurity of what-nearly-was haunted Harry. Would he always have them? If so, would their support be enough?

What if, despite all his newfound interconnectedness, a dab hand could dissolve Harry’s new under-construction life? Swish and flick. Gone.

Harry thought of Argo, Howell, Midha, the Slytherins (even the vacillating ones), Neville, the twins, moonbeam… He wasn’t alone anymore, and maybe he was never as alone as he had felt… But was it safe to count on others? Could they rely on him?

Harry had made his choice. He did not want to be alone again. Independence was one thing; isolation was altogether different. Harry would live! He’d take on the challenges and eschew selflessness.

The discovery of the Covet-Me necklace had merely plucked at fears that were already there. What if he hadn’t realized that something was off? What if he hadn’t asked anyone about what he’d witnessed? What if he’d been wearing the necklace or drawn in by the wearer? What if the exchange with Ginny had gone horribly wrong and he’d have been charged with something criminal? Dumbledore’s dominance was everywhere…

Harry knew that without the memories, he’d have been soul-crushingly vulnerable, and the truth was that he was still too uninformed and powerless for his liking.

He needed more… and balance was the key. He’d appreciate what he had and not nurture his fears… he’d figure out how transparent he could be without putting his friends in danger… Harry would fight for more. Dumbledore could keep his fighting against outlook; he could choke on it! Voldemort and Dumbledore would not define Harry Potter!

———

“This is your card, knife wielder.” Daphne waved a PORRO card in front of his face.

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Greengrass, for including me in your game even though I am a muggley ‘BINGO’ sayer.”

“Yes, well, you are a Slytherin, and I like to include everyone.”

Harry laughed and read through his card. PORRO was a BINGO-like game with 25 squares that you would mark off if the boxed description “was called,” so to speak. This Porro was Lockhart-themed, and each square postulated what could happen to the DADA professor as a result of his love of mirrors. And like Bingo, each card varied. For example, one square suggested that Lockhart would get fired, but that option wasn’t on Harry’s card, for which he was glad given that he had zero faith in that happening.

“Wait. So, if Lockhart gets into a lover’s tiff with his reflection but it doesn’t happen in our class, I don’t get to mark it off?” Blaise asked disappointedly.

“That’s correct. Did everyone hear what Blaise asked? Boxes that stipulate ‘in your class’ must in fact occur during your DADA lesson.”

“What if it happens in my class but I’m not there?”

“Sorry, kid, but you have to be there for it to count,” Daphne said, and Isaac frowned.

“You shouldn’t be missing lessons” — Gemma glared at the ceiling — “such as they are. Is there a reason why you wouldn’t be in class?”

“No,” Isaac said sullenly. “I just don’t like him.”

“That’s the right response, kid. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“This charm work is excellent, Daphne,” Theo said.

“Says the guy who helped her.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Why do the boxes move again?”

“Harry!” Daphne whirled around. “That’s part of the game. This is not fucking Bingo.”

Harry raised his arms in surrender. “I’m not trying to start something. Mine are moving around a lot. That’s all, and I realized that I don’t remember why that is.”

Daphne sighed. “Yeah, I know. You got one of the more unruly ones. I figured you wouldn’t complain, seeing as you don’t give a shit about Porro.”

“Daph, I don’t give a shit about Bingo either.”

Daphne laughed. “Fuck off, Harry!”

“You’ve been a bad influence, Harry.”

“Your muggley uncouthness is catching.”

“Can we not start saying ‘muggley?’ It sounds casuistic.”

“What do you mean, Cory?”

Cory Banter was a third-year Slytherin from a stodgier family. However, other purebloods were wary of them because they were never explicit about where their loyalties lay. They excelled at being relatively unknown and didn’t let tradition get in the way of avoiding predictability. For instance, Cory was at Hogwarts, but her elder brother was at Durmstrang, and her younger sister would go to Beauxbatons.

“Muggles should never be underestimated. There is a reason why we hide from them.”

“That’s bollocks,” Gavin Yaxley piped up. “Even a first-year could take on a muggle.”

Ah, Gavin… Harry thought that guy protested way too damn much. His family was meant to be in deep with the Dark Lord, but Harry had met them and had a feeling that they wanted out of that association. Despite the airs Corban Yaxley put on, the household would be perfectly happy if Voldie never returned. But they covered their asses well.

“Did you not see Harry throw a knife?”

“And what of it?”

“Aren’t you the same guy who enjoys karate?”

“That’s exercise.”

“Harry,” Corry said, “what do you think?”

“He’s not a muggle reference,” Draco said.

“He kind of is,” Marcus said.

Harry cleared his throat. “My muggle experience was small. I am not the best reference, but I will say that Gavin’s logic is flawed even if only for two reasons.”

“Enlighten us, golden boy.”

“‘Golden’? Ew. But back to the point… Muggle technology has advanced in ways that could capture our deeds.”

“Like a pensive, right?”

Harry nodded. “Kinda, yeah. I can see that. We know what rumors about sorcery have led to, and evidence could be damning. This isn’t unique to the muggles either. Within the magical community, some crafts are seen as ‘too dark.’ So, you can just call it a good strategy to widen the purview of your discretion.”

“And what about the muggleborns, huh?” Cory asked.

“Who gives a fuck about them?”

“What the fuck crawled up your ass, Gavin?” Cassius asked. “You know the answer to this one. If a muggleborn’s magic is discovered, they come looking for the rest of us.”

“This is exactly why you can never assume why people were drawn in by the Dark Lord,” Cory said. “Some saw muggles as inferior, and others saw them as a threat.”

“Or both.”

“Or neither,” Blaise said.

“Who the fuck would think neither?” Gavin asked, but silence followed. “Well, Zabini?”

“Let’s see, Gavin…” Harry said bullishly, trying to pull Yaxley’s focus away from Blaise. “Survival, power, fear, strategy, ‘lesser evil’ view, darker magical options, career prospects—”

“Career prospects?!”

“Yeah. If your opportunities were few, and you surmised that the winds of change were blowing in one direction and you were trying to establish yourself in the magical world, you might choose whoever you believed would hold more sway in the future. Look at Pettigrew,” Harry said. “I don’t know why he betrayed his friends. He chose his mother’s surname, but who was his father? If someone like him thought that the magical world with Dumbledore at the helm would keep him down but that the Dark Lord’s path offered a chance of being more…” Harry shrugged. “How do I know if he wasn’t just hoping for a better job at the ministry?”

Someone spluttered and exclaimed, “You can’t be serious!”

“I am 100% serious. I have come up with other possibilities too, but all I’m saying is that following the Dark Lord is not as straightforward as people want us to accept. Have we not gone over that in this common room before? Gavin, I don’t know if you really despise muggles or not. But it would be unwise to underestimate anyone, including those without or a different amount or type of magic.”

“Whatever, Potter. If the Dark Lord returns, I’m on his side.”

Collectively, the room stiffened, but Harry chuckled. “I’m 12, Gavin. Choosing him would be the conventional move. But if the Dark Lord doesn’t return, look at this shaky foundation we are building.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “You are not taking these things seriously, Potter.”

“Hey, I just lost my shit over a fucking necklace. I comprehend the threats. But I don’t want to assume that the future is set in stone.”

“Fair enough.”

“Super. Now, Gavin, if you get into a fight with a muggle, use karate not magic. And Cory, I will try not to say ‘muggley.’ Thus concludes this elementary muggle perspective.”

Chapter Text

After the first-years’ Transfiguration class, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall requested a meeting with Ms. Ginevra Weasley.

“Please see me at the end of the day’s lessons, Ms. Weasley.”

McGonagall had known that no matter how casual the tone, the girl would worry about their upcoming appointment for the rest of the day. She would have preferred doing things differently, but the other options were worse. The topic required more than the amount of time between lessons. And if the request were too formal, it would draw the headmaster’s eye.

McGonagall could not trust him, and she would not risk Ms. Weasley’s wellbeing. The odds were that the girl was unharmed. But what if she wasn’t?

The tension between Dumbledore and Harry Potter had changed Minerva McGonagall’s outlook, past and present. The boy resembled his father enough that the comparison was unavoidable. Both were charming, talented, and confident as they moved effortlessly through the castle’s halls and quidditch pitch’s sky.

She appreciated the boy and remembered the father fondly. But McGonagall could not deny that next to Harry Potter, James would come across as a hubristic blighter.

Harry Potter had unexpectedly opened McGonagall’s eyes, and she didn’t like what she saw. Nonetheless, she would not shy away from the awareness. McGonagall now understood that James Potter had gone beyond youthful grandstanding, situating himself quite comfortably in elitism, and Albus Dumbledore had enabled him.

Harry Potter, who seemed to have inherited his mother’s forbearance and quieter strength, was somehow perceived as the worst Potter. The son interacted amiably with students from the other houses, whereas the father had held Gryffindors above everyone. James had reveled in rivalries; Harry wanted Ron Weasley to leave him alone. Yet, to Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter was the recalcitrant student.

Minerva McGonagall could not reconcile the many faces of Albus Dumbledore. Consequentially, she could not trust him, and she frequently second-guessed herself. McGonagall did not like the optics of the meeting she had arranged with Ms. Weasley, but for now, it was the best that she could do.

———

Professor McGonagall sat opposite Ms. Ginevra Weasley, while Professor Flitwick stood nearby. It was his job to examine the jewelry, and McGonagall hoped that the student who had noticed something amiss was wrong.

McGonagall asked to see the necklace. Ginny morosely unclasped the chain and placed it on her professor’s desk.

“I didn’t take it from anyone. I swear.”

McGonagall softened her tone. “No one said that you did, Ms. Weasley. Does it not belong to you?”

“I found it… I thought that maybe the owner had finally realized it was missing or saw it around my neck.”

“No, Ms. Weasley. As I said, this is a wellness check. Professor Flitwick is here to make sure that everything is as it should be. How about we leave him to his evaluation, and we can have a cup of tea?”

Ginny agreed, and Flitwick moved the necklace to a student desk for inspection. McGonagall carefully gathered information about how the chain had come to be in the girl’s possession. The answers were distressfully patchy…

Flitwick subtly caught McGonagall’s eye and signaled that it was not, in fact, an ordinary piece of jewelry. McGonagall pressed her lips together. Then, she delicately shifted the conversation while Flitwick floo’d Madam Pomfrey.

———

McGonagall paced angrily in Snape’s office. “She is devastated, Severus. I don’t know when she’ll trust her emotions again.”

“Did she reveal the location of its discovery?”

“Near the greenhouse project. The memory,” Minerva spat, “is fuzzy. She was targeted, Severus. And I don’t give a damn what the headmaster says. This was not a prank!”

“Is he dismissing it?”

“On the contrary, it’s his latest excuse for obviating the greenhouse project. After all, if its construction is unearthing troubling debris…” McGonagall mimicked.

“It’s both a prank and debris?” Snape drawled.

“He will no doubt manufacture theory after theory while he navigates us away from taking this matter seriously. Her face, Severus...” McGonagall sat down, feeling both worked up and exhausted. “Her little first-year face... She’s not even sure when she happened upon the necklace. She vaguely recalls keeping it with her, observing others. She assumed that someone would search for it if it was theirs…” McGonagall ran her hands along her robe. “From what we’ve gathered, she’s been wearing it for at least a fortnight.

“When asked why she didn’t hand it over to a professor or check with her peers to see who might have lost a chain, she said that she had not wanted to part with it… Her face, Severus. She looked horrified by her admission, desperately adding that she wasn’t a thief. ‘Not usually,’ she cried…” McGonagall brought a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes as if she were in pain.

“Are compulsions suspected, then?”

“Filius ascertained that there were subtle compulsions that degraded quickly, likely by design.” McGonagall took a calming breath. “Albus contends that we are getting ahead of ourselves. Poppy, the sane woman that she is, proclaimed that Ms. Weasley’s health should be our driving principle. She recommended that Ms. Weasley speak with a mind healer. But the headmaster,” McGonagall gritted, “construes this medical judgment as making matters worse.

“Mrs. Weasley, unfortunately, deferred to the headmaster.” There was silence for a few minutes, with Snape giving her the time to sort through everything. “The headmaster is once again connecting an event to Mr. Potter. He claims that Ms. Weasley was visibly distraught following a recent conversation with Mr. Potter. Since an undisclosed source raised the issue of Ms. Weasley’s necklace, he afforded his informer the same protection.”

“Are you asking me something, Minerva?”

“No, Severus. There’s no need. As far as I am concerned, the one who first brought this to our attention did Ms. Weasley a great service. Such items were never meant to be worn unwittingly or for extended periods. If I had my way, I’d want to see her taking a break from classes to better collect herself. Without the motive of mind healing, however…”

“Is there no way around the headmaster’s and mother’s decision?”

“No. Mr. Arthur Weasley took his wife’s lead, and she took the headmaster’s. Those three are the opinions that matter… Severus, this matter will continue to shape the term. Ms. Weasley wants to make apologies to those she remembers being perplexed by her altered behavior. Of course, her youngest brother will want his say.” She shook her head with a composite of exasperation and indelible sadness. “Discouraging her seemed unwise. She needs to do whatever she deems best. I hope it helps… Severus, Mr. Potter’s response to all of this will be monitored.”

“Mr. Potter has dealt with Mr. Weasley before, and I doubt he’s spent much time dwelling on his interaction with Ms. Weasley. He’s not the type to overly invest in other people’s lives.” McGonagall knitted her brows in consideration of Snape’s words. “Concentrate on helping Ms. Weasley, Minerva. I’ll take care of Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

———

News of Ginny’s “upset” with Harry reached Ron all too quickly.

“Oi, Potter! What did you do to my sister?”

Here we go…

Dinner was about to start; Harry wanted to get this encounter over with before entering the more populated dining hall.

“I didn’t do anything to Ginny, Ronald,” Harry stated calmly.

“I heard she asked you out, and you turned her down,” Ron uttered as if that was a perfectly reasonable description of an offense.

“That didn’t happen, Ronald.”

“Are you calling my sister a liar?!” Ron seemed determined to make a scene.

“No, but I doubt that your information came from Ginny.”

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this, Potter. I’ve had it with you thinking that you’re too good for my family!”

“I have no idea what you are going on about, Ronald. I am friends with the twins and—”

“The twins! Hah, they’re the worst of us! So, they are good enough but not every other Weasley? Guess your standards are low. It adds up, given the company you keep.” Ron sneered at the surrounding Slytherins.

“Isis and Morgana, he’s a moron,” Pansy murmured.

“Shut it, Parkinson!” Ron glowered at Pansy.

Harry took a step to regain Ron’s attention. “Ronald, you are mistaken. Fred and George are fiercely intelligent, genial company, and extremely hardworking. The only Weasley I have a problem with is you, and that is because YOU make yourself my problem.”

“If you don’t have a problem with Ginny, why’d you make her cry, huh?! You did something to her. I know it!” Ron charged forward, but strong hands pulled him back. The twins had arrived with Ginny.

“Ron, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Will you please stop?” Ginny pleaded with Ron, but her brother wouldn’t listen, not even after he had stopped resisting the twins. “Ron, Harry didn’t do anything wrong.” Ginny moved to stand in front of Ron, her hands up as if she were trying to placate a wild animal.

“Don’t cover for him, Ginny. That’s what he wants,” Ron whisper-shouted.

“Ron, please, stop,” Ginny urged. But now free from the twins’ hold, Ron shoved past her and lunged towards Harry.

Harry used Ron’s momentum to spin him around, pulling his arms behind his back. “She told you to stop. Look at her, you dolt. Are you helping?”

With his focus on Harry, Ron had accidentally knocked his younger sister to the ground. Harry knew that Ron cared for Ginny, but he wasn’t acting like it; he couldn’t even register her fall.

Ron tried to wrestle himself out of Harry’s grip. “Let go of me, you slimy snake.”

Harry regarded the twins. “If I let go, do you have him?” They nodded. Harry ensured there was plenty of space, and then he pushed Ron forward.

Ron rubbed his shoulders and scowled at Harry. “I’ll get you back for hurting her.”

“I told you he didn’t do anything.” Ginny confronted Ron again. “You’re making a scene for yourself, not me.” Then, she marched away.

“Ginny, wait!” Ron shouted.

“Leave it, Ron,” the twins commanded.

“It’s time for dinner,” George said.

“We need to have a dialogue.” Fred yanked Ron forward.

“You know” — Blaise stepped forward to stand beside Harry — “if the twins are the worst of them, then the other Weasleys must be exceptional.”

“Ron excluded, of course,” Pansy clarified.

“Of course.” Blaise encouraged them to resume walking towards the food.

“Hey.” Daphne got Harry’s attention. “Are you alright?”

Harry exhaled steadily. “It pisses me off that he used his sister that way and scorned the twins.”

“He didn’t speak kindly of Slytherins, either,” Theo added.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m getting at, don’t you? They are his family, and he doesn’t appreciate them at all.”

“So, what you’re saying is” — Draco smiled teasingly — “that because we’re your family, you didn’t have to defend us to him?”

“That’s how I heard it,” Daphne singsonged.

Theo nodded solemnly, and Harry chuckled.

“Hurry up!” Pansy called over her shoulder.

“Big sis is calling you now,” Theo drawled.

———

Harry received a care package from his magical guardian containing pasties and an assortment of Simul Dulce jelly beans. Harry had known it was coming, but the parcel still felt special.

“That’s a happy face,” Blaise said. “What’s in the box?”

“Pasties and candy from my magical guardian.” Harry smiled broadly as he pulled out the goodies.

“Why would they send you sweets?” Draco suspiciously eyed the various bags. “I imagined them knowing you better.”

“They do, Draco. The sugar is for you lot, in case I choose not to share my pasties.”

Theo picked up one of the bags. “They’re jelly beans.”

“Not Bertie Bott?” Draco picked up another bag. “These aren’t Every Flavoured… What in Merlin’s name is Simul Dulce?”

“It looks like a new company.” Theo shook a bag. “This is intriguing. Why would your guardian send these to you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Samhain is coming. Children like sweet treats.”

“But this is new,” Blaise said. “I’ve never heard of this Simul Dulce, and my mother knows everything, Harry.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Harry shook his head and took a bite of his pasty. “Oh… These are perfect. Decide for yourselves. I need a moment alone.” Harry plopped down on the couch and took the next bite with his eyes closed.

———

“Simul Dulce?”

Harry rolled his eyes. They were now in the common room, and the rest of the house was also wary of the new confectionary company.

“Why do you have access to spanking new candy?”

“He’s Harry Potter. People must send him all sorts of just released shite. Right, Harry?”

Harry groaned and opened a bag. His eyes exaggeratedly roved the room before he put a bean in his mouth. When he made a yuck-face, someone asked, “What does it taste like?”

“Cupcakes.” Harry shivered.

“You don’t even like candy. Why did you put it in your mouth?” Draco pulled the bag away from Harry.

“You all are reacting so weirdly. I thought that maybe the hesitance stemmed from a concern about trickery. So, I decided to prove otherwise.”

“What if that was the safe bag?” Marcus teased.

Harry snorted. “Fine. Let’s open all the bags, and I’ll have a random one from each.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Draco will sample them.” Daphne tossed Draco a bag.

“Me? I don’t want to taste the spicy ones.”

“I can handle the spicy ones. You try the chocolate.”

“I do like chocolate.” Draco smiled as Pansy waved the Bon Bon Voyage bag in the blond’s face.

An hour later, Harry was eating another pasty to stifle the saccharine with the savory. But he was happy with the result. The Slytherins were cautiously optimistic that they’d found an “acceptable alternative” to Bertie Bott’s.

For adaptable students, the snakes were strangely averse to change when it came to their confections. It was a good thing that Simul Dulce had decided to release their products before Samhain. If the Slytherins were any indication, people needed the extra time to ruminate over the brand before trying it. If they had launched later, Samhain might have come and gone without a single bag sold!

“What kind of madman could conceive of spicy jelly beans?” Theo rolled a bright red one between his fingers.

Harry laughed. “Yes, because ‘vomit’ is infinitely more sensible.”

“I find it fascinating that you hated Bertie Bott’s, and here we are, a year later, sampling the goods of a fledgling competitor.”

“First off, my antipathy for sweets is not unique to beans or Botts. Second, is distaste for vomit not a sufficient reason for my magical guardian to send a different brand?”

“Stop trying to stir the pot, Theo,” Blaise said. “I think I like the Beans with Attitude. It’s not as radical as Bertie Bott’s, but it’s still chancy.”

Theo leaned in to whisper. “The logo is sirenic. It's also reminiscent of glasses, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry turned unimpressed eyes on Theo. “Is this your way of securing more sweets? Because I’ll happily request more for you, Theo. I don’t need an elaborate excuse.”

Theo snorted and sat back lazily. “A reliable flow of sugar does sound appealing.”

“Done. Now, let me eat my next pasty in peace.”

———

Harry felt like he’d misread the jelly bean dynamic. HOW could the risk of tasting VOMIT secure such loyalty?! From SLYTHERINS?!

The box of “acceptable alternatives” went mostly untouched after that first day in the common room. And Harry hadn’t shared them with anyone outside of the house even though that had been the plan all along. He’d annoyingly lost his nerve.

Theo’s exploration had spooked him. Harry thought he might’ve handled things better if he hadn’t been worried about Draco’s interpretation. The blond was bothered on Harry’s behalf that his magical guardian didn’t comprehend the extent to which Harry disliked confectionery. And though misguided, Harry would rather Draco stick with that notion. Simul Dulce’s logo was screaming “Harry Potter” in Harry’s bubbling paranoia.

How could he justify sharing the jelly beans with other houses now if the Slytherins were so unimpressed? Why would Harry tell Luna or Neville or even the Weasley twins to “try these” if the sugary snacks weren’t a hit? How was Harry supposed to act?

Fuck it!

“Harry?” Hollis said as he was leaving the common room with the remainder. “What are you doing?”

“I figured that since the Slytherins are iffy about the jelly beans” — Harry jostled the box — “I’d pass them over to the others.”

“I thought they were ours,” Greg said, and Harry peered over his shoulder. “Are you taking them back?”

Harry turned all the way around, feeling even more confused. “I thought that you would prefer it. The candy doesn’t have to sit on the snack table just because my magical guardian sent it. And maybe they overestimated the thrill of the new. I don’t know.” Harry shrugged.

“Harry, put the box back.” Hollis smiled, gesturing towards the table, and Harry bobbled his head cluelessly.

Hollis then took Harry aside to explain that the Slytherins didn’t know if they could like the jelly beans. Unresolved enigmas like, “Who owned the company?” would determine how freely they could appreciate the sweets. What if the owner was a rival of their parents? What if the owner was in poor standing?

Ohhhhh… What?!

———
(Harry’s linked journal with Madam Medallion)

HP: … but the Slytherins don’t know if they can like them. From what I somewhat understand, they are afraid to make a social misstep. Like if they are seen eating the jelly beans and then it turns out that a rival of their parents owns the company. Do you see what I mean? It’s candy! That they can eat in private! I don’t get it.

MM: I did tell you that it would take time to build up a following.

HP: I seriously underestimated how picky children could be about junk food. I was prepared for them to like it, and I was adapting to their lack of enthusiasm. But this “leave the box even though we still aren’t sure” thing is confusing me, and I don’t know what to do.

I wanted to share some with the other houses, but if I go around promoting sugar that the Slytherins don’t openly like! That’s suspicious!

And I thought that we were so clever with the logo, but now I’m nervous that someone will figure out that I’m behind it. Theo asked probing questions, and I have an invisibility cloak!

MM: I’m laughing at you right now.

HP: Snape will figure it out. I gave him a bag, but he was going to notice the box anyway. So, that’s probably okay.

MM: I’ll send you more jelly beans.

HP: What? Why?

MM: Because you communicated that you did not receive enough. Your guardian sent your friends treats, and as I hear it, they did not send a sufficient amount. Otherwise, you could easily share with those beyond Slytherin. Would you like more pasties too?

HP: Oh… Okay. Yes, please :)

MM: The beans are excellent. Distribution is healthy, and the sales are as expected. Word will spread.

If your Professor Snape figures you out AND says something to you, ask him not to tell the Malfoys out of respect for Draco. Snape is intelligent, but he is not one to easily marry myths with the facts before him. There are other invisibility cloaks.

HP: The Peverell connection?

MM: The Potter lineage is not commonly discussed over meals.

HP: I would bet that Dumbledore knows…

MM: He’s also losing credibility, and his bias against you is off-putting. Try to trust yourself, Harry. You like the logo. Let the veracity of your decision outweigh the doubt.

HP: Okay.

MM: Do you want to tell me about the other things on your mind?

HP: Not yet. Can you tell me how Argo’s plans are coming along?

MM: I will tell you what I can…

———

Harry was studying in the library with Neville when Ginny approached, with the twins not far behind.

“Harry?”

Harry glanced up from his Charms notes. “Hi, Ginny.”

“May I sit down? There’s something I’d like to say.” Harry motioned for her to go ahead, and she slowly sat down. “The day I… talked to you… I wasn’t myself.” Ginny cleared her throat. “I want to apologize for… confusing you, I guess. And also, I’m sorry about Ron’s—”

“Please don’t apologize for Ronald’s behavior. That’s not on you. As for that day, I’ll accept your apology.” Even though it isn’t needed! “Are you more yourself now?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’m more myself, but I’m not over it, if that makes sense. I’d rather not go into the details if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine, but maybe you could talk to someone.” Harry gestured towards the twins who were observing their conversation from a respectful distance.

“I don’t know. They’re so…”

“Hyper?” Neville offered, and Ginny started. Harry thought maybe she’d forgotten that he was there. “They can be serious too, but you might have to tell them that’s what you need.”

Harry nodded. “That’s been my experience too.”

“You do like the twins,” Ginny said more to herself and stared at her brothers. “Mum is always talking about how immature they are; I guess it’s hard to see past that.” The twins waved but in different styles. She chuckled and stood up. “Thanks, Harry. See you around. Bye, Neville.”

When they’d gone, Neville whispered, “Ron is a moron.”

“I could not agree with you more, Nev.”

Neville patted Harry on the shoulder and resumed his coursework.

———

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall called. “Please stay after class. It won’t take long.”

Harry stayed seated after putting his things away. When the door closed behind the last student, Harry looked expectantly at his professor.

“I wanted to inform you that Mr. Ronald Weasley has filed an official complaint against you. The investigation will be thorough, and I’ve already written to your guardian, copying the same contacts you chose before. There’s nothing you need to do, but I wanted to make you aware.” Harry nodded. “If, at any point, you wish to discuss this further, please inform your head of house, and we will schedule a conference.”

Harry nodded again, and then he stood up to leave. “Thank you for letting me know, Mistress McGonagall.”

When Harry was gone, McGonagall took a moment to reflect on his composure and asked herself if even that notification should have been more formal. Then, she dismissed the doubtfulness. McGonagall would’ve handled the matter that way with any other student. Consistency was imperative, especially with Dumbledore’s increasing implications of favoritism.

———

“Harry, darling,” Pansy said sweetly.

Uh oh…

“I’d like to take a moment to discuss something positively frivolous if you wouldn’t mind.”

What?

Daphne giggled. “What she means, Harry, is that there’s been far too much drama lately, and she’d like to finally confab about Lockhart.”

“Yes, exactly.” Pansy pulled out several magazines from her bag. “As I said on the day that we discussed the Covet-Me chains, news has spread about Lockhart’s love of himself. Behold!” Pansy pointed to an image taken within Hogwarts.

“That’s a picture from inside the classroom!”

Blaise laughed. “Well spotted, Harry.”

Harry ignored him and kept eyeing the photograph. “Amazing shot. There aren’t any students in the reflections,” Harry mused.

“Focus, Harry.” Harry glared at Pansy but without heat. “Now, for some reason, the Daily Prophet hasn’t picked this story up. But with more and more articles written in magazines, it’s increasingly suspicious that the Prophet hasn’t. But this photo changes things. These are not just rumors anymore. Now, bear this likeness in mind when considering the preceding articles.”

Blaise playfully cleared his throat. “One student claims that Professor Lockhart has refused to change classrooms despite his assertions of displeasure about the vandalization.”

Daphne shared, “Classes have suffered delays, and in some instances, were forgotten altogether. Parents must be debating how their children are learning anything at all.”

“This is one of my favorites.” Pansy stood up. “Setting aside the headmaster’s decision to keep him on staff, one has to wonder how a man so derailed by his visage was ever able to survive the events described in his many books.” Pansy bounced in place. “Isn’t it magnolious?!”

“I want to see how Lockhart handles the media when he’s no longer protected.” Theo set down a magazine and picked up a book.

“How did they get the photo?” Harry asked, and Pansy groaned. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Pansy. I agree that this is delightful. But I’d like to know who got this picture into the right hands and what their intentions are. Is this a bit of fun? A straightforward business opportunity — money for a snapshot? Or is someone trying to take Lockhart down?” Pansy reluctantly contemplated Harry’s viewpoint. “Is the media allowed to print photos of children? Or are they not supposed to, but they can occasionally get away with it?”

“Technically, there is no rule against it, but there’s an unspoken understanding that it’s in poor taste. However, that probably has more to do with the fact that the more sought-after children of interest usually have powerful connections. For instance, you, Harry. On the one hand, enough people would want to read news about you that, collectively, the media and the public would overlook the impropriety. But if your connections, starting with your guardian, impressed upon the outlet the need to stick to convention, they’d rethink their options,” Theo said.

Harry’s verdant eyes homed in on Draco. “I was so focused on Dumbledore and the hospital’s misplaced deference. I didn’t think of the bigger shitshow that the media could’ve been.”

Draco put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Others dealt with it for you. Your job was to recover.”

“If things had worked out in his favor…” Harry shook his head. “Fucking asshole.” Draco understood what Harry was saying; the others would not bother guessing. All accepted that Harry guarded his secrets more than most. “Let’s get back on track. We need to know who’s behind this spot-on representation and what their motivation is because this” — Harry tapped Lockhart’s portrait — “means that we might be able to achieve far more than what we originally envisaged.”

“Like ruin him?” Pansy grinned wickedly.

“Not just him.” Harry wagged his eyebrows.

“Now we’re talking!” Pansy cheered.

———

Neville’s greenhouse project was once again back on track. With the intermittent delays, students had begun to ponder why anyone would have a problem with such a seemingly harmless venture. The interruptions, however, could not prevent Neville from being in the greenhouse and strategizing. Dumbledore adventitiously benefitted Neville by leaving him to do what he did best — work with nature.

Harry and the Slytherins had filled Neville in on their desire to use the greenhouse opening as a cover for a land-based ritual that would help Hogwarts protect itself and its students better. Neville, though, took things a step further and gradually adjusted the structure and plant layout to achieve an area more conducive to earth magic. The breaks in the project offered plenty of time for Neville to “overthink things.”

He meticulously chose the placement of the entrances, the style of the windows, and the direction of the plants. What he planted in the north, for instance, would set the intention of how magic shared in this space would be channeled. Neville also incorporated a tree in the center of the greenhouse that connected to the land itself.

This, he informed them, would allow direct access to the castle’s grounds. The type of tree he had chosen looked harmless but had an aggressive root system that responded well to rituals old and new. Even the location of the drains served a higher purpose. They too were connections to the land itself, and they were hidden behind raised beds. Best of all, Neville used the lack of consistency with their gatherings and work times to obscure which ideas came from where.

Harry was most impressed with Neville's ability to discern what nature wanted.

“Sometimes, a plant doesn’t want to be near a window, even if their sister does,” he said one day.

Harry could not contribute on that front, but when Neville was debating between 2 types of windows, Harry shuddered at the touch of one of them.

“That one feels wrong.”

Neville carried it over to his “tester” plants. “Huh, they don’t like it either. Great job, Harry!”

“I aim to please.” Harry saluted.

Neville laughed. “Glad to hear it.” Then, he put Harry to the task of shifting some plants into the sun.

———

Before Harry knew it, it was Samhain. The plan was for Harry to leave the Halloween feast early and make his way to the Room of Requirement by 10:30 pm to set up what he could for the Essence of the Heart ritual. Lucius would meet him at 11:30 pm to see what he needed to add, and by midnight, Snape would join them.

Draco did not know what Harry was up to, and sadly, Harry could not tell him. He wanted to tell the blond not to worry, that he’d be with his father and Snape, but again, that would be too much information. At least Draco knew Harry wouldn’t be lying in bed depressed about his parents’ demise.

That was something, right?

Neville would help Harry leave the feast early, and Draco would stay with the other Slytherins. Neville didn’t know about Seren, but like Draco, he had bits and pieces that could lead to some probable assumptions. His brother didn’t have to say anything for Harry to know that he suspected a ritual of some sort.

Neville wasn’t a fan of the Halloween feast either. The in-betweenness of Samhain made him think of his parents' marginal being, and it angered him to be pressured into happiness.

Until either could leave, though, Harry soaked in the chatter of the Great Hall.

“Did Bertie Bott create new beans?!” a Ravenclaw shouted, and others from the table participated in the discovery.

“This whole bowl may be chocolate! I haven’t eaten anything gross!”

“Where’s the trick?”

“I don’t get it.”

“How boring!”

“This can’t be—”

Theo nudged Harry. “Why are you so curious about the claws, Harry?”

“I like seeing how normal children respond to new confections, Theo.”

Theo chuckled. “Sure.”

“Do you think this creamy assortment is Simul Dulce too?” Daphne examined the jelly bean in her hand.

“Harry, you didn’t get us some of these.” Blaise plucked a white one from the bowl.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I was sent a variety. I never claimed it was the entire line.”

“I bet you have access to it, though, huh?” Theo pressed. “What do you think, Draco?”

“Harry doesn’t like sweets. Let it go.” Draco popped another bonbon-flavored jelly bean into his mouth. “It’d be more believable if I had a candy company, especially one that sold chocolate. Harry has to be exhausted to tolerate cocoa products.”

Harry smirked. “Blondie gets me.”

Draco groaned. “Harry, don’t call me that!”

“A slip. I apologize.”

“I think we should include a big bag of jelly beans in the PORRO prize. Harry, could you arrange that? You do owe me for all the BINGO madness.”

“I disagree with the assessment, Daph, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oooh! See if they’d do a custom bag in Slytherin colors,” Pansy said.

“Maybe they could arrange them to spell PORRO,” Theo said.

“In a transparent bag, you mean?” Daphne grinned.

Theo smirked. “I bet Harry could sort it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If making enquiries counts as sorting it, sure.”

“I’m going to have to ask my mother about Simul Dulce,” Blaise said. “If she doesn’t know about them, they have to be local.”

“How new can they be if they’re already on the Hogwarts table, though?”

Harry leaned into Draco’s side. “I have to get going. Don’t overdo it on the chocolate, or you won’t sleep soundly.”

Draco fixed his eyes on Harry’s. “Don’t push it, Potter.”

Harry nodded once and rose from the table. “I’m off, snakes.”

———

Harry walked back and forth in front of the painting with the dancing trolls, silently asking for the place Seren needed them to use. When a door appeared, it looked to be made from a single stone, worn smooth by flowing water. Harry wanted to take a moment to touch and admire it, but avoiding the risk of notice won out. He rushed inside.

The chamber was reminiscent of the one that housed Seren’s wardstone, but it was larger and more open, like a naturally occurring cave. And in lieu of the sound of trickling water, there was a visible stream. Harry bent down to touch the floor and found that it was a merger of compacted earth and stone. It felt felicitous — cool to the touch with a warm welcome.

“Alright, Room, is there anything we’ll need to set up?”

A large, weathered wooden table took shape; on its surface were a sheet of parchment, several bowls of ingredients, and a stack of white robes. The note read: “Remove your shoes and clothing. Put on a fresh robe. Wash your feet in the stream. Prepare the blend by combining the contents of the bowls in the order they are placed, from left to right. Then, use it to fill in the circle.”

“Circle?” Harry turned around to see a glowing groove on the floor. It was indeed in the shape of a circle. “Okay, Room, you got it.”

Lucius found Harry humming to himself as he moved about sprinkling a dry, red mixture on the ground. Lucius didn’t want to disturb him. So, he walked over to the table and read the parchment lying on its surface. When he got to the end, another appeared. This one read: “Remove your shoes and clothing. Put on a white robe. Wash your feet in the stream. Prepare the iungere paste.”

A book materialised, already open to a specific page. Following that, a pestle and mortar popped into existence alongside several bowls of various substances. As Lucius’s eyes searched for somewhere to change, a privacy screen came into view, and he got on with things.

Snape arrived earlier than he had expected and saw Lucius and Harry conversing quietly over an old book. He approached unhurriedly, not wanting to disturb them.

Harry spotted him. “Hi, professor, there’s a robe there for you. You’ll need to remove your shoes and clothing; then, wash your feet in the stream.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy and did as he was told. As he washed his feet, he mulled over his long, still-going day.

By the end of the Halloween feast, Snape had started fantasizing about creating a choking charm that could be cast on lemon drops. The trick, he thought, would be in making it extraordinarily undetectable to the target and the investigators. In essence, you’d want to increase the risk of choking as opposed to aiming for death. Then, Albus Dumbledore’s demise would present as a realistic abnormality worthy of the eccentrically attired headmaster.

Dumbledore would not stop speculating about why “young Mr. Potter” had felt “the need” to leave the feast “early.” The boy partook in nearly half of the feast! Were the emotional challenges of attending a celebratory feast on the anniversary of his parents’ murders truly insufficient?! What other reason need there be?! He had walked out with the Longbottom boy, for fuck’s sake!

And the pestiferous discussion about Simul Dulce! Who would dare compete with Bertie Bott? He was a good wizard, and anyone could be behind the unknown Simul Dulce!

“There’s something peculiar about the design, Severus. I’ve run scans on the packet, but I want you to examine the contents more closely. The children are taking to them with uncommon alacrity. Argus asked if he should be confiscating them…”

Snape didn’t care, but the study would be painless. His Slytherins kept them in the common room. And Mr. Potter had given him a bag of Singed Tongue, which offered an assortment of the hottest ones Simul Dulce produced. The tagline read, “Can you take the heat?” It was ridiculous! But they were tasty. Snape didn’t know what the menace’s connection was to the company, but he knew there had to be one.

As for why the children enjoy them, you zealot, they’re colorful and have zero nutritional value!

“Professor Snape?”

Snape whipped his head around. “Your feet are clean. See, these are your instructions.”

Snape reviewed the words on the page: “Your feet are clean. Calm yourself. Proceed to the table.”

“It’s okay, Professor Snape. The Room gave me and Lucius a parchment each too. Come on, you’ll like the book.”

———

The three were now standing at their assigned places, white paste marking their faces, arms, and the tops of their feet in the prescribed designs. Chanting wasn’t stipulated, but they needed to reach meditative states. Only once all three were in immersed cogitation would the magic guide them. This practice was highly intuitive and demanded a level of openness that most would shy away from.

Thus, Snape thought he was an exceedingly poor choice for this observance. Nevertheless, he knew his mind and easily arrived at an ethereal forest that felt familiar even though he knew he’d never seen it before.

From behind one of the trees, a woman emerged. “Greetings, professor.”

“You must be Seren,” Snape drawled.

“Severus Snape.” Seren bounced a little with each step in Snape’s direction. “How happy I am to see the man you have become. You’ve held on to the best of you even when powerful forces made every attempt to cleave it from your very soul.”

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“One day you’ll stop thinking that she was better than you.” Seren observed something in the distance that Snape could not see. “She could be kind, I’ll give you that, but she was not as caring as you.”

“I will not tolerate you disparaging her,” Snape bit out.

“It’s simply the truth. She wore her goodwill on the outside, but her limits were shallow. She knew it too. You know that because you kept each other’s secrets: she could be mean, and you could be nice. Only you knew how ambitious she could be. No one understood that about her like you did. It wasn’t just magic that connected you.

“But unlike you, she could hide her pertinacity in plain sight. She knew you’d never betray her, and even if you had, who would have believed you? She took advantage of that, and it hurt when she allowed others to interpret her continued friendship as a beneficence. You told yourself that she was doing her best to navigate magical society too; your skills were just different… But it still felt like she was exploiting your eagerness to see the best in her.

“She knew that she wasn’t giving you all that you deserved. But she did not like apologizing, did she? And she judged herself for qualities you valued. As with you, your friendship was the most honest she’d ever known. Where she took it for granted, you clung to it as if it were life itself. You hurt her, yes, but she hurt you too.”

Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Please stop.”

“Your pain was not less, Severus. You were both young, and she was the pampered type of juvenile. You desperately wanted her to remember that she knew you better than that one moment, but by then, it was too late. She’d made her choice, again and again. No matter how important your friendship had been to her, you did not fit in with the life she wanted. She’d been letting you go for years.”

“I chose—”

“Did you? Did you feel like you had a choice?”

“I chose!”

Seren hummed. “Did she? If she were alive today, would she admit that her decisions affected your friendship too? Or would she blame you?” Snape stayed quiet. “When she contacted you again, she skipped over a lot… She saw what you refuse to see in yourself: your goodness runs deep, and your limits are far from shallow. She needed to see you, and you went to her.

“In time, she might have learned new depths. Some might argue that motherhood deepened her wells. But you know better… The threats of war were too great to truly flourish. You could practically smell her fear. That is why you think she forgave you, because she intuited that she was going to die.”

“Stop!”

“Stubborn boy… Behold!” Seren pointed in the distance and an image of Harry peacefully meditating appeared. “Not a single shred of his being blames you. You're his contingency plan! How adorable is that?” Seren’s laughter might have been beautiful if she weren’t saying painful things. “Regard him, Severus. That boy can walk through the walls of Hogwarts, yet he believes that you could find a way to help him out of a crisis. And that’s not the most amazing thing. Nope. The most amazing thing is that YOU believe that you could do it.” Seren raised her arms to the sky. “Severus Snape would tear this castle apart, stone by stone, to save that boy there!”

Seren then squatted in front of him and stared deep into his eyes. “Given the right circumstances, he’d probably even do it for Ronald Weasley.” She grinned with too many teeth for Snape’s comfort. But Seren gently cradled his face and kissed his forehead. Then, she turned her head to rest her cheek on Snape’s temple.

“You are kind-hearted, and you know it. Stop punishing yourself for things that you would never hold against anyone else in the same predicament. It’s time to be compassionate with yourself, Severus. She forgave you. The situation wasn’t ideal, and the conversation was incomplete, but let it count anyway. It’s time to forgive yourself.

“I think Harry inherited her sense of you. She knew that she could trust you, and he knows it too.” Seren threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Hug me back. I know you want to.”

Snape tentatively hugged her back, and she laughed. Seren stood up and pulled him up so that he’d join her.

“And when the time comes, Severus, let the boy know that you don’t like girls. He’s had enough loneliness to last a lifetime.”

Seren grabbed his hand and gently pulled Snape to the trees. “Now, come, let’s consult on what you acutely want to know.”

As they walked amongst the trees, Seren told Snape about the basilisk. “You are, of course, correct that there’s a basilisk within the castle that poses a danger to the school. Salazar did not choose to leave her behind alone. He thought that he’d have more time to finalize his plans. As his familiar, she knew when he died, but she did her best to honor what she understood his plans to be.

“When an heir came along, she was vulnerable to suggestion… You’ll need Harry to lead you, but he will not want you to dispatch her. She sleeps, Severus. He would not apprehend your preference to end her when she is most vulnerable. I cannot be sure she’d respond to his charm, but so long as there is a chance, you’ll have to let him try. But yes, Severus, you must enter her domain prepared to fight and win. Choose your moment wisely.”

“Is it true that parselmouths are immune to a basilisk’s glare?” Snape asked doubtfully, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“It is unclear and not worth testing. Many surmise it to be little more than a myth, finding the other theory that basilisks have an extra set of eyelids, which neutralize the effects, to be more reasonable. In this case, it's best to check with the individual snake and assume nothing. Now, for the most important part of this discussion, Severus.” Seren stopped in her tracks and gazed into Snape’s eyes. “I offer you confirmation. Yes, the Dark Lord Voldemort was inhabiting Professor Quirrell last year.”

Severus Snape’s blood ran cold. Seren hooked her arm in his and continued to lead him through the forest.

Snape eventually spoke but in a barely audible voice. “Does he know?”

“Albus Dumbledore knew Voldemort when he was a boy named Tom Riddle. Tom had a miserable life before Hogwarts… His time here was mixed… And the more he learned of the tragicalness that preceded his birth, the more desirous for power he became.

“The current headmaster likes to imagine that Tom was meant for wickedness, but I appraise him as a boy who made a series of choices… a human being who maybe could’ve been someone else… I wish that Dumbledore had worked harder to see the boy instead of the tumult within…”

“That was not who I was asking about.”

“I know, Severus, but there’s another you must speak to.”

Snape stopped walking. “Please.”

Seren smiled sadly and grabbed Snape’s hands. “Meet with Madam Medallion, Severus. It is time.” Then, she embraced him once more and left him to his thoughts.

———

“Hi, Lucius!”

Lucius opened his eyes to see Seren sitting opposite him and inclined his head. “Lady Hogwarts.”

“Such formality.” Seren fell back and stretched her arms on the grass. “Join me, Lucius. Let’s take this in.” He carefully lay down. “Thank you, Lucius. My favorite thing about you is your loving nature. Most view you as the cold, strategic man that your family pushed you to be.” Seren shifted to her side and propped her head up with her hand. “They’re missing out. Oh, Lucius, please consider sharing a bit more with others. It’s… Ahhh…” Seren flung herself back on the grass. “Marvelous!”

They lay there for an unknowable amount of time, breathing in the fabulous tranquility of the place. Almost like a child, Seren made her way into Lucius’ arms, and he held her close.

Before she left, Seren pointed to images of Severus and Harry meditating. “Your family is lucky to have you.”

When she was gone, Lucius allowed tears to fall from his eyes.

———

“Hi, Seren! Are we doing this correctly?”

“Of course, young one. How are your classes going?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “They’re okay. I have to force myself to learn their way. I’m enjoying the discussion series, though. Professor Sprout brought to life how influential the alignment of the stars is on the development of plants. I used to think growing schedules were mostly about temperature.”

“And what of your private projects?”

Harry chuckled. “I’ve learned the value of spending more time on the development stage before experimenting.”

“Yes, there are other dangers besides explosions,” Seren said, and Harry shuddered. “How is Mrs. Lovegood?”

“She’s mostly recovered, but Luna is concerned that she’ll continue with the project that led to the accident. I don’t know what it is, but it has to be important if she’d risk dying. She wouldn’t want to leave Luna, right?” Harry turned pleading eyes on Seren, and she smiled softly before gradually reaching for his hand.

“No, young one, she’d never want to leave her moonbeam.”

“I’m thinking about asking Professor Snape to check in on her.”

Seren pulled Harry into a hug so quickly that he was shocked into laughter. She held on tight and tilted them back onto the earth.

“Tell him that you don’t want Luna to lose her mom, and he will understand. Don’t you worry.” She kissed the top of his head with an exaggerated “mwah.” Then, she whispered close to his ear. “I will never leave you. I am with you always.” Harry’s hold tightened a little bit, and he drifted into sleep while Seren held him.

———

When Harry opened his eyes, he saw Lucius and Snape open their eyes as well. Harry was about to ask if they were done when Seren appeared in the center of the circle, visible for the first time to all three of them.

“Thank you for what you have shared with me today.” She closed her eyes and inhaled extendedly. “Ah… your generosity” — Seren touched her hands to her chest — “is like an untroubled fire.” Then, she opened her eyes and grinned contentedly. “Now, obviously, Harry has a more direct line of communication with me, but with time and hope, I hold that all of our connections will strengthen. Until then, Severus and Lucius, if you need me to hear you, lay your hands on the castle wall, and I will respond as best I can.”

Lucius bowed his head. “Yes, my dear lady.”

“Please, Lucius, call me Seren.” She winked and was gone.

Harry broke the silence that followed. “Are you two alright?” When they didn’t immediately respond, he continued, “I suppose it would be overwhelming meeting her for the first time under these conditions. But she’s pretty cool, right?”

Professor Snape quirked an eyebrow. “Cool, Mr. Potter?” Harry weighed up his words and nodded.

Lucius walked up to Harry and put an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, Harry. Seren is wonderfully cool.”

Harry beamed. “I’m so glad you two know her now. Merlin, I’m hungry. What time is it?”

Snape was thrown by the abrupt shift, but Lucius smiled. “Come, Harry. I’m sure Mick has a feast waiting for us in Severus’s quarters.”

“I get to visit Professor Snape’s quarters! That’s great! I’m convinced one of the parsel-passages leads there.”

———

“You’re cheerful this morning,” Daphne remarked at breakfast.

Harry hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he felt amazing. “I am. Must have been a restorative rest, you know?”

“Pleasant dreams, perhaps,” Theo suggested. “It is Samhain, after all.”

“I don’t remember, but I wouldn’t rule it out.” Harry smiled softly. “It’s a nice thought anyway.”

“It’s here!” Pansy spread the Daily Prophet on the table. The headline read:

Beneath it was a larger copy of the outstanding photograph, which even more exquisitely conveyed Lockhart’s mindset.

“Brilliant,” Harry whispered.

“Listen to this.” Pansy began to read the article aloud. “Dear Readers, we at The Daily Prophet were divided about reporting on the rumors involving Professor Lockhart. We had been assured that the stories were ‘misunderstandings’ and that ‘impressionable minds’ could too often ‘miss the nuances’ of the world around them. Still, we kept our ears to the ground, knowing that many children observe far more than some are willing to accept. The image below—”

The newspaper disappeared from within Pansy’s grasp, and sounds of displeasure could be heard around the Great Hall.

“Hey!” Pansy’s voice carried for all to hear. “Who took tha—”

“Ms. Parkinson, I will remind you that this is a communal space. You must comport yourself accordingly.”

Pansy grimaced at Dumbledore. “It was you then. Is the headmaster stooping to censorship now?”

“Ms. Parkinson, sit down,” Dumbledore reproached. Harry didn’t even know when she’d stood up.

“Not until you return the newspapers. They are not yours.”

Pansy held her ground, and sounds of agreement were heard around the hall. The students and professors watched the staring contest with a jumble of complicated emotions and thoughts.

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall rose from the head table. “I suggest a compromise. The newspapers will be returned to your common rooms for you to read at your leisure. Classes will soon begin. Now, please, everyone, continue with your breakfast. I don’t want anyone missing out on the necessary sustenance. Ms. Parkinson, the headmaster and staff will consider the concerns you alluded to and devise a solution.”

Pansy nodded once and sat down. The rest of the students gradually returned their attention to their meals. When conversations resumed, they were subdued.

Harry nudged Pansy’s foot with his own. “Hey, Pans,” he whispered. “I’d call that progress on phase two. Good job.”

She frowned and threw a muffin at him, which he caught and handed to Draco.

“Damn, Harry, that must have been some dream,” Blaise drawled, and Pansy started to chuckle despite herself.

Draco reached for Pansy’s arm and patted it gently.

Daphne threw an arm around her shoulders. “Darling, you’re overlooking two pivotal details.”

Pansy turned to her, and Daphne tipped her head in the direction of the hourglasses that kept count of their “stones of success.” A grin spread across Pansy’s face as she realized that what she had done went entirely unpunished. She did not lose house points or receive a detention. That effectively communicated that the headmaster was the one in the wrong.

Pansy perked up and reached for her fork, ready to continue eating. “You know, Harry, your merriness is catching.”

———

Dumbledore’s actions at breakfast backfired spectacularly. Students were eager to know what the newspaper could’ve published that had upset him so much. Those who adored the headmaster pored over the paper, searching for hidden meanings in minor articles. Those who believed that he “meant well” tried to see it as Dumbledore protecting one of his professors, but they couldn’t puzzle out why the headmaster didn’t want them to read in print what they already knew firsthand. Those who detested Albus Dumbledore were having a delightful and validating day.

———

At lunch, Isaac Corr hesitantly approached the Slytherin table opposite where Harry sat. Finding the reticence odd, Harry spoke first, in the hopes of taking some of the pressure off.

“Hey kid, what’s up?”

Isaac started. “I, uh, heard that you wanted to find the one who took the picture of Lockhart. You know, the one in the newspaper.”

Harry nodded. “I do.”

“I think I know who it is,” Isaac said choppily.

“Kid, sit down, and please calm yourself.” Isaac sat down cagily, eyeing Harry the whole time. Harry felt increasingly uncomfortable. “Are you going to tell me why you are so twitchy?”

Isaac cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought that you might not want, uh, discourse outside of the common room... since I’m a first-year.”

“Then, why didn’t you wait until we were in the common room?” Harry asked curiously.

“My schedule. I, uh, wouldn’t have had the chance until after dinner today, and I thought that you’d prefer to know as soon as possible.”

“Isaac?” The boy started again. “Take a breath, eat some food, and then we’ll chat about your theory. Okay?” Isaac inhaled sharply and moved to stand. “Here, Isaac.”

Isaac looked askance. “But won’t the others be here soon?”

“Yes, and they’ll take their seats around you. Kid, what’s going on? Why are these your impressions?”

Isaac’s shoulders ticked up. “I… heard stories… in class.”

“Okay, kid, here’s what I’m gonna do. Emotions are not my forte. So, I’m going to ask someone to speak to you, okay? You cool with Gemma?” Isaac bobbed his head. “Excellent. I’ll get Gemma to talk this through with you, and after that, if you have a query for me, I will do my best to address it. But I cannot handle walking you through what you’ve got going on. I’ll probably fuck it up.” Isaac smiled shyly. “Are you alright with the other plan? You eat, and then we chat?” Isaac nodded. “Great.” Harry took a deep breath and resumed eating.

“Hi, Harry. Hi, kid.” Pansy looked quizzically at Harry.

“The kid has an idea of who the photographer is.”

“That’s exciting.” Pansy brightened and started plating her food. “Where do you want to meet the visual genius, then, Harry?”

“The Slytherin common room, but that’s not going to happen. Well, I’m assuming that they aren’t in Slytherin. Is that right, kid?” Isaac nodded.

“What has your face scrunched up, Harry?” Blaise sat down.

“Where would be the best place to confer with the photographer?”

“Abandoned classroom,” Blaise recommended, as he deliberated between the protein options.

“But it has to be presentable, Harry. Maybe we could ask the elves for some furniture?” Pansy prepared a pork chop sandwich. Harry respected her creativity with the gravy.

“Why do you need furniture?” Daphne sat down. “The others are on their way. They got delayed chatting about quidditch with Sunila.”

“The kid has an idea of who the paparazzo is, and since they’re not in Slytherin, we need to make an abandoned classroom feel welcoming,” Blaise summarized.

“I take it we don’t want transfigured furniture?” Daphne asked cheekily.

“Absolutely not,” Pansy declared. “I don’t want my chair to give way without warning.”

“Does that happen?” Isaac’s eyes widened.

Harry snorted, and Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Oh, it happens, especially when you don’t know that you are sitting on a transfigured chair!”

“Pans, we thought that we’d removed the transfigured one. I promise you,” Harry said apologetically.

“Just no transfigured furniture.”

“You got it. I will begin searching for proper furniture today.” Harry already had an idea of where to start.

“Sorry we’re late. Sunila wanted to go over training suggestions, and Theo here tried to get out of being on the team again.” Draco shook his head.

“It’s a bigger time commitment than I was expecting, Draco. I thought the reserve team would train less.”

“This is why you aren’t in Ravenclaw. You are a manipulative little shit,” Draco said exasperatedly.

“What’s he after?” Isaac asked, and Draco looked at him absently.

“Nothing in particular. He likes to stir things up occasionally and watch what happens.”

“I do not agree with your assessment,” Theo drawled.

“Of course you don’t.” Blaise winked. Theo smirked and continued eating.

“Why are you sitting with us, kid?” Draco took a bite of his food, and Isaac tensed. The blond peeked bewilderedly at Harry.

“He has an idea of who the photographer could be, but I suggested that he eat first,” Harry said plainly, and Isaac relaxed. Draco nodded, feeling caught up enough to enjoy his food in peace.

“Who is it?” Theo asked.

Draco nudged Theo. “Patience. Isn’t that what you told me to have when you knew that I was hungry but had to ask the captain about the time spent training?”

“Very well. I will show you how it’s done.”

Amusement followed, and lunch continued; no one pressured Isaac to reveal his thoughts, much to Harry’s relief. He didn’t know why Isaac had been so tense and was eager to get Gemma involved.

“Isaac, do you want to go outside before our next class?” another first-year Slytherin, Malcolm, asked.

Isaac’s eyes lit up for a second before he regarded Harry. “Oh, uh, I was going to speak to Harry about something.”

“It’ll keep, kid. Go enjoy the sunshine.” Harry waved him off.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Isaac assessed the other second years. When no one protested, he stood up. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Works for me.” As casually as he could, Harry shifted his attention to Pansy’s and Daphne’s quiet exchange.

When Isaac left the dining hall, Draco fixed his eyes on Harry. “Why was he so nervous?”

“Oh, good, we’re talking about it now. It’s been bugging me since I sat down,” Blaise said. Pansy and Daphne turned towards Harry too.

“There isn’t much to say. He approached me timidly, and I didn’t know how to handle it.” Harry shrugged. “I told him I was going to get Gemma to speak to him.”

Theo chuckled. “How did you explain that one?”

“I told him the truth. His emotions baffled me, and I’d likely fuck it up.” Draco rolled his eyes, and the others laughed. “He thought that I wouldn’t want ‘discourse outside of the common room.’”

“That’s weird,” Blaise said pensively. “Did he mean you alone or any upper-year?”

“I’d guess the latter, but I don’t know… I have to get Gemma involved.” Harry shivered at the idea of dealing with Isaac himself.

“I have total confidence in you, Harry. One day, you and your feelings will be like this.” Daphne showed him two entwined fingers.

“He is still young,” Theo said sagely.

“I cannot tell if you are joking.”

“I think it’s both a joke and a sincere statement,” Draco said. “From both.”

“Ah, well, I…” Harry started and then shrugged before reaching for a bit more to eat.

The others chuckled, and Draco smiled fondly. He agreed with Daphne. Harry would no doubt get there.

———

Well after dinner, Harry was “working on his Transfiguration essay” at a communal table in the Slytherin common room. He’d mostly finished his essay and was scribbling his thoughts about beetle qualities and how they might affect the “button” goal. The spell was blatta claudet, but Harry fancied that there could be more to the story.

If the beetle was meant to be used as a closure, what if what needed finishing was a fight and not a coat? Could a hardier beetle do some serious damage? If you were in a tight spot but had access to tough insects, could you use transfiguration to create useful projectiles to aid your egress to safety? And if you took into consideration that a button was essentially something that pushed up or out, like a “bellybutton,” could the right beetle (or intention) result in a shiv? It’d be temporary, sure, but—

“Harry, could we have a word?” Gemma asked, and Harry immediately set aside his things.

“Of course. Here or…?’’

“Here’s fine, but I’ll ensure our privacy. Take a seat, Isaac.” Gemma waved her wand, and the kid sat down — more comfortably than he had before.

Thank you, Gemma!

“What would you like to chat about?”

“Some rumors are going around that you are pretending to be a snake.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “The would-be bullies appear to be getting smarter. As far as I can tell, the rumor started with some upper-years in at least one other house, and it spread quickly amongst the first-years.”

Harry looked questioningly at Isaac. “But I thought that you were concerned about me not wanting to talk to you outside of the common room?”

Isaac tipped his head down, and Gemma placed a hand on his shoulder. “Isaac has had a few claims running through his head. He’s seen upper-years in other houses refuse to interact with the lower-years of the same house. None of them were Slytherins,” Gemma said pointedly to the both of them. “Ultimately, Isaac is a little overwhelmed by the newness of being in a different place, away from home, and surrounded by so many people.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry said thoughtfully. Isaac looked up and smiled. Harry smiled back.

“Yes, it does. I’ve recommended to Isaac that he spend a little less time studying and a little more time getting to know his fellow Slytherins. Yearmates do tend to stick together, but that’s a natural result of attending all of their classes together.”

“Or them being assholes, from the sounds of what Isaac has witnessed.”

“Language, Harry, but yes.” Gemma nodded in agreement, but Harry furrowed his brow. “I’m trying to set a good example, Harry. I am the oldest student at the table.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll leave that to the more mature members of the house.”

Gemma smirked. “That’s probably best.” Harry grinned. “Now, Harry, Isaac’s queries made me realize that we have yet to organize a house project to truly bring the first-years into the fold. Do you have any ideas you’ve been kicking around?”

Harry blushed a little. “I, uh, didn’t even think of that. My mind’s been…” Then, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “It’s not exactly a house project, but it is a house interest. And Isaac here may hold the missing piece.” Harry’s keen eyes centered on Isaac. “Who do you reckon the photographer is?”

Isaac turned to Gemma, and she dipped her head encouragingly. “You’re up, kid. Who’s your pick?”

Chapter Text

Isaac reckoned that the photographer was a first-year muggleborn Gryffindor named Colin Creevey. He’d noticed Creevey taking pictures around the school, and when Isaac had caught sight of Creevey’s developed images, he thought that the Gryffindor showed real talent.

Isaac explained that although he knew of other students with cameras, Creevey was the boldest. The Gryffindor would pull out his camera whenever the desire struck, and he’d even asked total strangers for permission to photograph them. Isaac suspected that Creevey was the only one with true pictorial passion.

Isaac hadn’t immediately assumed that Creevey was behind Lockhart’s likeness because they shared DADA. Isaac had never glimpsed Creevey using his camera during class. But when no other snapshots of Lockhart surfaced, Isaac concluded that a purposeful eye had taken the photo, not someone exploitative or enamored — like Lockhart himself!

Harry liked Isaac’s logic and felt good about the lead. He gave Isaac the chance to approach Creevey on his behalf, but the first-year was perfectly content to stand aside. He knew Harry’s intentions but wanted nothing to do with being the face of the invitation.

That same night, Harry talked to everyone who was in the common room about his idea to hire “the photographer.” If Slytherin House agreed, “map money” — the term they affectionately used to describe the funds earned from last year’s house project — would pay for Creevey’s services.

When Harry’s housemates understood that, either way, Harry would be making the photographer an offer, they began to take his idea more seriously. There were a lot of questions, several concerns, and unequivocal caveat requests. Daphne kindly organized all of the deliberations, tips, and worriments, and Harry agreed to make the arrangement official. He’d get the ball rolling on the paperwork and show the house the final draft before any party signed anything.

———

Harry and a likely too-large group of friends were hanging out in the chosen abandoned classroom, newly furnished with neglected pieces from around the castle. It was cozy, Harry thought, and hoped that they could incorporate it on the list of safe places to hang out.

The plan was for the Weasley twins to talk to Mr. Creevey first, informing him that Harry wanted to meet. Fred and George had assured the Slytherins that this would not be a problem. Creevey had originally been overly interested in becoming acquainted with “The Boy Who Lived;” the matching pair had nipped that in the bud by explaining to Creevey that Harry would not appreciate his fascination.

Fred and George had helped Creevey to understand that most people didn’t want a camera shoved in their face. They impressed upon him that Hogwarts was the students’ home, however temporary, and people had a right to their domiciliary privacy. The whole school had the matching pair to thank for Creevey’s prudently toned-down style.

Harry was surprised by how pleased he felt to learn of yet another unforeseen difficulty. Someone else had identified and addressed a potentially damaging quandary without his involvement or awareness. In another world, Harry’s daily life could have been documented and plastered all over the newspapers. “Harry Potter” could have become a bigger illusion without his permission or steerage. It was a terrifying thought, but it served as further proof that Harry was no longer alone… He didn’t have — and would never have — parents, but maybe, in his own way, he could be like other children and sink into just being.

The twins arrived with Creevey, made introductions, and as planned, went to sit at a far table to observe the Marauders’ Map. Draco was the only Slytherin student who knew of the map, and the Weasley pair were happy to put their exclusive knowledge to good use. They were excited about playing a small part in another young kid getting the chance to receive dream support.

Colin sat timidly in a chair opposite Harry and Draco, who were sitting on a plush couch. Daphne was off to one side, sitting on a high back chair, poised to take notes; Blaise and Theo were in a far corner, working on some ideas for ward-enhancing rites. Pansy chose not to attend for several reasons, but her disapproval of the number of participants was overriding.

Harry could see her point better now, but the configuration had made sense at the time! There had been a lot of factors in the decision-making process, including what to do if they were discovered despite their best efforts. Furthermore, Slytherin needed to feel protected and trust the account. Blaise and Theo functioned as observers. Plus, didn’t 2 sets of people who appeared to be studying come across as disarming? It was like a library, not an office!

They had never lost sight of the goal of putting Colin at ease. There were snacks! And Gryffindors were present! But as Harry studied the nervous tells of Mr. Colin Creevey, a first-year sitting in a room with a lot of upper-years, most of whom were Slytherins, he thought that Pansy had been right all along.

Harry attempted to soften the remaining harshness of the atmosphere by attempting small talk. “How are you settling in at Hogwarts, Mr. Creevey?”

“It’s… nice.” Creevey chewed on his lip.

“Nice?”

Creevey nodded jerkily.

“Do you want to elaborate?”

Creevey shrugged and bobbed his head at the same time.

“Mr. Creevey, please, speak freely. You are unlikely to say anything that would offend anyone in this room. Plus, what I wish to discuss with you today will benefit from a more open dialogue.” The first-year gawped. When the silence lasted too long, in Harry’s opinion at least, he spoke again. “Mr, Creevey, are you alright?”

Creevey shook his head as if to clear it. “Sorry, I… Please call me Colin. It’s just that you are speaking so formally to me. I’m not used to people speaking so… directly, I guess, to me.”

“How do people usually speak to you, Colin?”

“In passing, you could say. Like an afterthought. I sometimes think it’s my fault for always being behind a camera. On the other hand, maybe I got comfortable taking pictures because it rarely mattered if I was there. Does that make sense?” Harry quirked an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Colin continued. “Sorry, I guess that’s too much information.” He reached for a drink and took a delicate sip.

“It does make sense, but I’d recommend being more cautious. What you just communicated and how you expressed it reveals more than you may realize. Others might take advantage.” Colin’s eyes widened. “Not anyone here, Colin, but we have an interest in your wellbeing. You do not, however, know what that is, and if we were less scrupulous, we could have factored your revelations into our plans.” Colin’s brows furrowed.

“You’re overwhelming him, Harry,” Draco said.

Harry smiled. “My apologies, Colin. I was more prepared for a simpler answer. Shall we try again? How do you like Hogwarts?”

“It’s okay, I guess.” Colin shrugged.

“What would make your stay at Hogwarts better, Mr. Creevey?” Draco questioned.

“Oh, uh, more activities, I think. Apart from learning, there isn’t much to do. I mean, I know it’s a school, but we live here. There are no planned outings or big gatherings — apart from meals or feasts, but those are just more decorated meals! Is that what I left home for? Studying and food? I can do that anywhere!” Colin inhaled deeply and blushed.

“What sort of activities would you like to see, Colin?” Harry queried, genuinely intrigued.

“More sports options, I think. There’s quidditch, but only a few people in the entire school get to play. Why are there no other more active options? There’s wizards’ chess and gobstones, but that’s more sitting! Isn’t exercise supposed to be beneficial to one’s mind or something like that?! And we’re in a castle in Scotland! Exercise would help us stay warm. Why is everything so limited? There aren’t even tours of the castle! There are real ghosts here, and we don’t even have a ‘Ghost Stories’ hour on Halloween. That could be sitting, why isn’t that a thing? Something, anything! For such a magical place, why is there terribly little to engage the senses?! You know? What am I supposed to take pictures of if nothing is happening?!?!”

By the time Colin was through, he was gasping for breath, and he’d drawn everyone’s attention. The twins, true to their word, resumed their guard.

“Wow, Colin.” Harry grinned. “You’ve got a lot to offer, don’t you? I feel even better about our proposition than before.” He clapped his hands.

“Harry, we’ve not confirmed that he is the one,” Daphne interjected.

“It’s got to be him,” Harry voiced but conceded the point. “She’s right, though, Colin. We have to make sure. Did you or did you not take the photo of Lockhart that graced the front of the Daily Prophet?”

“I did,” Colin confessed sheepishly. “With his permission though, I swear!”

“With his permission?” Draco drawled.

Colin dipped his head. “Yes.”

“Permission to take or to distribute to the media?”

“Oh, uh, both?” Colin answered with a doubtful inflection, and Draco narrowed his eyes. Colin reflexively cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Both. I wanted to send a photo of him in front of the mirrors, but I didn’t want it to seem like I was validating the rumors. I asked Professor Lockhart if he wanted me to capture him in his element. He agreed and, of course, requested a copy. When I gave it to him, I checked if he’d object to me sending the portrait to a magazine, and he said that such an image deserved to be shared with the world.”

Colin finished his story and tried to gauge Harry and Draco’s responses. Harry was the first to show any expression. He chortled.

“That’s fucking brilliant! What made you do it?”

“You,” Colin answered shyly.

“Me?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard a rumor that you were suspected of putting up the mirrors and that Dumbledore himself confronted you. I thought it was unfair that the headmaster targeted you without proof. I mean, what’s the fuss about mirrors? It’s Professor Lockhart who can’t stop adoring himself. The mirrors don’t make him look. So, to go after anyone is absurd, much less going after them without evidence. It’s just… wrong. And I figured that a picture could help show Professor Lockhart for who he truly is.”

Harry smiled subtly. “How would you describe the man in the photo, Colin?”

“What do you mean?”

“For instance, if you could have added a caption or decided on the accompanying headline, what would you have commented?”

Colin perused the illustration, now sitting on the table in front of him. “I don’t think I can come up with something catchy or a clever title. But I’d describe that man as someone blinded by his own light. He dazzled himself dumb and refused to see beyond his reflection.”

Harry smiled broadly, feeling like Yule had come early. “Colin, we want to hire you as our photographer?”

“What do you mean?”

“Might I suggest that you enquire, ‘Who is ‘we’?’” Draco said neutrally.

“Oh, good point! Who is ‘we’?” Colin reframed, and Draco tipped his head in approval.

“‘We’ are the students currently enrolled in Slytherin House. We would give you permission to photograph us around the school and the grounds. We’re not expecting you to follow us around. It’s more like we want you to feel free to capture moments that speak to you, should you happen to witness them. For the most part, those likenesses will belong to us; you will not be allowed to circulate those pictures, freely or monetarily, without our consent.

“If, however, an opportunity arises and you wish to sell copies of a photo, we would consider permitting you. Circumstances and division of profits are factors that will determine how we would proceed. It’s all laid out in the contract that we’ve drafted.” Daphne pulled out the document and set it on the table alongside the Daily Prophet. Colin picked it up disbelievingly. “We want you to take that and talk it over with your parents and people. Feel free to consult a lawyer and, if you have an account with Gringotts, your manager. This is a legitimate overture, Colin, and we want you to feel comfortable.”

“How much are you offering to pay?”

“Ah.” Harry smiled. “We resolved to let you propose the first amount to be discussed. You, after all, are better informed about the cost of supplies and the efforts you make.”

“I wouldn’t know how to price what I do.” Colin stared at the parchment in his hands. It looked so official!

“I suggest making a list of everything that goes into what you do. If it doesn’t have a monetary value, assign one. Then, triple it, and decide if that amount is fair; if not, keep adjusting it until the fee is right for you. Again, we intend for you to go over this offer with your representatives. If you review the signatures section, you’ll see all of the people who are expected to sign this agreement by the time we reach the end of our discussions.”

“What’s this section… caveats?” Colin tried to read them, but his brain was fuzzy.

“Those are the result of much debate within the house. For example, if you take a photo of a Slytherin kissing another person, the depicted Slytherin or Slytherins get the first say — not the House. If the other person is not in Slytherin, and they can be recognized, that image cannot be circulated. We have made it abundantly clear that these prints will not be used for nefarious purposes.”

“Can I still take other pictures? Like snaps of other people in the school?”

“Yes, Mr. Creevey,” Draco answered.

“Please, call me Colin. So, if I understand you correctly, you are not claiming all photos. Just those related to Slytherin students.”

“Yes and no, Colin,” Daphne said. “Slytherin’s head of house is included, but you must proceed judiciously. He hasn’t given overt permission. He doesn’t even know about this yet, but we acknowledge that you will occasionally take photos that have other people in them — like at a quidditch match.”

Colin nodded. “What about former Slytherins, like with the upcoming public matches?”

“Out of respect, their photos will default to being Slytherin House’s property. From there, it will be determined how to proceed. We stipulate that this is not about concealing someone’s actions, should you expose an offense for example, nor is it about acquiring information on others,” Draco spoke plainly.

“Maybe give him a more ordinary occurrence, Draco,” Harry suggested.

“Alright. Let’s say, Colin, that you snap a Slytherin parent tearfully hugging their child goodbye. That photo is not for public consumption. It does appear that you have a keen eye, and we are interested in seeing what you reflect to us, but there are limits to how open we are willing to publicly be. Does this make sense?”

“And you would pay me for this?” Colin murmured dreamily.

“Yes, Colin,” Harry responded gently. “This is not a joke. It is not a trick. And we would appreciate your discretion. Some would interfere just because they can. Therefore, we ask for subtlety.”

“But we’re partial to a quick turnaround,” Daphne added. “The public matches are fast approaching, and the greenhouse construction will soon end.”

“I can ask my parents, right?”

Harry chuckled. “Colin, you are 11. You cannot enter into this type of contract without their signatures.”

“What if my magical guardian doesn’t approve?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “I made sure that your magical guardian wasn’t the person I knew would never approve. Other than that, I have no idea who they are or how they’ll react. So, you’ll have to see for yourself. If, for whatever reason, they do not approve, I recommend that you talk to Gringotts. My account manager helped with this, and they will be handling matters if you decide to proceed. Gringotts would know best if your specific case allows for flexibility. Do you have a relationship with the bank?”

“Yes, but I haven’t used my vault much. My parents deal with the muggle side, and I have access in theory, but… We don’t even go into the local village until third year!” Colin slouched back in his chair. “This castle is extraordinarily limited!”

“Colin, I tell you what” — Colin looked at Harry morosely — “whether you go through with this proposal or not, I will help you suss out how to have more active things to do around here. And I will also show you store catalogs from Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley; that way, you can get a sense of what you can buy even when stuck in the castle.”

Colin perked up. “There are catalogues?!”

Harry nodded sympathetically. Hogwarts needed to do a better job of welcoming muggle-based students to the magical world. Or maybe stores could put together their own “welcome” package… like a coupon book… or a “shop hop” scavenger hunt! There could be rewards at the end! He’d have to write to Lucius!

———

As soon as the meeting ended, and the Slytherins were back in the common room, Harry excused himself and practically ran out of the room.

“What’s that about?” Pansy asked. “Did the assembly not go well?”

Daphne flopped onto the couch next to her. “Colin is not only talented, he’s insightful and passionate. It’ll be interesting to watch his capacity unleash.”

“Do you think he’ll take the deal?”

“It could go either way,” Draco admitted. “We don’t know who his magical guardian is, and his parents may decide that he’s too young to take on what essentially amounts to a job while still in school. And at the end of the day, he’s 11-years-old. We didn’t put him under a vow or even speak to him with wards-protection. By tomorrow, he might have told Ron Weasley, and the contract will be presented as some form of indentured servitude!”

“What’s going on with you?” Daphne asked.

Draco sighed and slowly sat in a chair by the fire. “I think I’m just pissed off about a lot of things. I’m increasingly aware of how little we know about the lives muggleborns lead. They could grow up in houses with magic-fearing guardians. Then, their ability to adapt to this world is determined by their magical guardian, who could be assigned to them. We don’t appreciate how rough of a transition it can be because we’re allowed — if not encouraged — to believe that they’re trying to change us. But as I looked into Colin’s eyes, I thought, ‘What if he’s being abused at home? What if his magical guardian tells his parents that Slytherins are evil?’ Seriously, what the fuck is the ‘magical guardian’ policy anyway? Does anyone even know?”

“Draco,” Theo said gently. “We recognize more now, and this situation will reveal how well Colin is being treated. This is an amazing deal. If his parents refuse to allow it, that will say something. If his magical guardian thwarts him, that will also say something.”

Blaise lightly pushed Draco’s shoulder. “We will do what we can, Draco. We learn more, we gain more, we achieve more. Right?”

“Is that what’s up with Harry? Is he worried about Colin, too?”

Draco snorted. “No, Pansy. That was him having another business-related idea. I can identify that aspect a kilometer away now. If I had to guess, I’d say Colin’s complaint about not having access to the local village is what inspired him.”

———

“Severus, I’d like a private word.”

It was a few days after the Slytherins had met with Colin, and the Gryffindor head of house had questions. Snape raised his wand with a query in his eyes. She nodded, and he put up the necessary wards. Then, McGonagall pulled out a copy of the contract that Colin’s parents had sent and set it on Snape’s desk.

“Were you aware of this?”

Snape peered at the document without touching it, but when he saw that it had to do with his Slytherins, he quickly picked it up.

“No,” Snape said disgruntledly. “How did this find its way to you?”

“Ah. Mr. Colin Creevey and his parents are decidedly pleased about this opportunity.” McGonagall pointed at the parchment still in Snape’s hand. “They have an account with Gringotts, and as it happens, their family lawyer is a squib whose cousin went to Beauxbatons. Since he and their financial advisor are also thrilled about this proposal, Mr. Creevey’s parents judged it best to speak with someone else that they trusted — in this case, me — who moreover has first-hand experience with Hogwarts and, in particular, Slytherin. And frankly, Severus, I do not know what to say.” Snape raised an eyebrow. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s generous.”

“Is it too much? Does it border on philanthropical?”

Snape scoffed. “It may appear munificent to those focusing on Mr. Creevey’s age. But the thoroughness of the contract and the flexibility extended to Mr. Creevey also safeguards Slytherin, which is often viewed negatively. If Mr. Creevey accepts this deal, there will be no disguising his actions. Soon, the entire school and beyond would know that he has been retained by Slytherin. This agreement protects the house from those who would accuse them of having ill intent. Therefore, in being generous with Mr. Creevey, they are securing themselves.”

“Severus, why would Slytherin want to do this? What reason could they have for wanting photos of themselves all around the school and grounds? If it were more limited, I’d think it was a passing childish folly. But this undertaking is ongoing. It is probable that Slytherin will employ Mr. Creevey for the duration of his Hogwarts’ stay. I can’t even conjecture that your charges acted rashly. The document addresses scenarios that wouldn’t have crossed my mind. Did you see the section about witnessing a crime?”

“What will you say to the Creeveys?”

“I will tell them the truth. I’d never encountered such a contract, and I imagine that has a lot to do with the fact that until last year, I’d never beheld a house united like Slytherin is today. It is their choice how they spend the money that they earn from the maps they created. Honestly, I am impressed that they are spending those funds in a way that benefits a student from another house. They’ve done what the headmaster has not: created another paid position within these walls.

“It is a fantastic opportunity, but I cannot make a recommendation. I have to be able to face the headmaster and say that I spoke as neutrally as possible. But know this, Severus, they are changing that boy’s life with that proposal. He loves taking pictures, and that passion might have eventually alienated him. He’s annoyed more than a handful of people with his exuberance. Now, he’s supported in a stupendously unexpected, empowering way. I look forward to seeing what becomes of this enigma.” McGonagall tapped Snape’s desk and stood. “I suppose I’ll speak to you again after it’s signed. I hope you’ll have more to share with me then.”

Snape handed over the contract, and McGonagall left him alone with his ruminations.

What was the menace up to now?

———

“Mr. Potter, a word?” Snape drawled when he spotted Harry in the common room.

“Hello, sir.”

Snape gestured for him to sit down and then took the seat opposite him. Then, he waved his wand to shield their conversation from eavesdroppers.

“This is different. How exciting.”

“I will need to obscure the fact that we had this conversation. And since the matter technically involves Slytherin House, I will likely call a house meeting.”

Harry pressed his lips together, suppressing a chuckle. “Is this about Colin?”

“Indeed. The deputy headmistress brought the scheme to my attention.”

“Is she Colin’s magical guardian, then?”

“No.” Snape furrowed his brow. Harry dropped it, and Snape continued. “His parents wanted her opinion.” Harry perked up but then frowned when Snape added, “An opinion I will not share with you.”

“Okay, I get it. What would you like to know?”

“I need information, Mr. Potter. Why was I not told about this?”

“The proposal is more of an investment in potential. We’ll know more about what we can do with the photos once we see what Colin sees in us. At the very least, we gain a powerful tool in understanding how we come across to the world. However” — Harry smirked — “there is a strong possibility that the images will give us great PR.”

“Of course. Now, I must ask because this topic will come up. Why Mr. Creevey?”

“I know, I know. There’ll be those who think it’s some sort of plot to use or dispose of a muggleborn. We could have that contract published in its entirety across all media outlets, and there would still be those who interpret it as a trick. But the truth is that Colin Creevey is the one who took the latest well-circulated likeness of Professor Lockhart.”

“And no one put him up to it,” Snape correctly concluded.

“Nope. And he did it with Professor Lockhart’s permission!”

Snape’s eyes widened minutely. “Permission to take or distribute?”

“Both!” Harry exclaimed happily.

“That may be why he ‘couldn’t recall’ anything useful to identifying the photographer.”

“Yeah, well, I’m more impressed that Colin didn’t keep it a secret, and yet, no one seems to realize that it was him. It’s like he’s playing up the ‘I’m 11. I didn’t know what would happen’ card.”

“Which you love.”

“I do! And he’s a little ball of energy with all sorts of opinions and ideas about Hogwarts,” Harry said distractedly.

“What kind of ideas?”

“Nothing major. Not objectively anyway.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Colin wants more things to do around here. How hard would it be to introduce some sports options besides quidditch?” Snape gave him a look that confirmed what Harry already knew. “Okay, fine. How about this, then? We use the lecture series to introduce muggle sports to the school and see what happens. I’ll buy some footballs in advance of the demonstration, pass them around, and if people just play, what’s there to stop?

“The announcement alone would give muggleborns a chance to shine. The first-years, especially. A planned ‘icebreaker,’ you know? There are so many options: skateboarding, swimming, jumping rope, rock climbing! Can you imagine being allowed to climb the castle walls? We live in this spectacular part of the world, and Hogwarts doesn’t even offer hikes.”

“You win, you menace, compile a list of suggestions, and I will discuss them with the deputy headmistress. I’ll say it was a troublesome consequence of the interhouse consortium.” Harry snorted. “Now, return to your seat. I need to gather everyone.”

“But you wanted to know why I didn’t tell you.”

“I apprehended the reason from your account, menace.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry grinned.

“Plausible deniability.” Snape began to organize a house meeting.

Harry didn’t bother to clear his countenance before rejoining his friends.

Draco whispered, “You have the oddest interactions with Severus. I’ve never seen anyone grin around him as much as you do.”

In reply, Harry bumped Draco’s shoulder with his own. The meeting was about to begin, and Harry didn’t have much to say about the blond’s observation. He liked Snape, and Draco knew that already.

———

On the day of the first quidditch match of the season, Harry, Neville, Theo, and Luna were ensconced in Neville’s greenhouse. The twins were under the stands watching out for overeager arrivals. Their main goal was to keep people away from the building. No one should go poking around and subtle deterrents were in place, but the backup was altogether smart. The matching pair had the Marauders’ Map “just in case,” but Harry told them that their keen senses should do.

They usually had their heads together, scheming over parchment. So, poring over the map would go unnoticed, but Harry didn’t want to risk it if the twins could avoid it. He wasn’t afraid of them getting caught with the map and if they looked to be plotting something, that was a usual occurrence. But the bigger issue was secrecy.

Fred and George weren’t informers, but they didn’t have to know about the ritual. If they did, their behavior could subconsciously shift and draw more attention. And if the matching pair ended up consulting the map at a time when the ceremonial positioning would come off as odd, in terms of “dot vibes,” Harry trusted the twins to choose the smarter path from among the options an unexpected circumstance afforded.

Overall, Harry felt good about the day’s chances. And the twins were the better choice for sentinels because Draco would be monitored by the hoary harrier. All the Malfoys would be observed. To Dumbledore, they were basically harbingers of darkness.

Fucking nutter!

The first game of the more public season was between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Attendance was high. To Harry, this meant a decreased probability of discovery. Neville felt like everyone was watching.

“Can’t it be at night, Harry? This is too risky,” Neville whispered desperately.

“Neville, breathe. We need you to be calm for this,” Harry soothed. “We went over this, remember? This is a prime time—”

“Wizard time,” Luna interjected.

“Bully time,” Theo contributed.

“Yes. All good words. Neville, this is the time. The crowds provide magical cover and distraction. After the game, people will come to the greenhouse’s opening. With so many people in attendance, and it being the first day, visitors are less likely to notice anything amiss.”

“Also, Neville, it benefits the ritual to have clusters of enthusiastic people on the grounds. This ceremony is for fostering a sense of welcome and peace,” Theo elaborated.

“Oh, yes,” Luna said dreamily, “people who feel welcome are less likely to cause distress to others. It’s very well thought out, Theo.” Then, she approached the central tree. “Oh, my, she’s hungry. I think she’ll want blood.” Neville’s eyes goggled.

“Neville, remember, this is your dominion. You decided on every last detail. Nothing bad will happen because you and yours won’t let it. Your intention will guide us,” Harry asserted.

“Neville, the land speaks to you, does it not?” Theo pressed, and Neville nodded jerkily. “Then, ask them.”

Theo gestured to the central tree and surrounding plants. Neville inhaled deeply and focused on his “herbomily” as Harry sometimes called the greenhouse’s residents. They were eager and calm.

Neville smiled reverently. “I think they know what we’re planning, and they are excited.”

“There you go, Neville. Now, we should begin. We’ll want to be well recovered when the others arrive.” Luna moved into position.

The ritual was led by Neville. He had built up their surroundings, and his strong connection to the land and its flora would ground the practice, strengthening the effects. Knowing that the space would be used for ceremonials, Neville had chosen the plants for their abstruse attributes. There was a type of fern that had a knack for distorting light, including magical luminescence. With that detail and others, even someone staring right at the glasshouse would think nothing of what they might see.

As for how the site would feel afterwards, that was trickier to conceal. Someone excessively suspicious, observant, and/or magically sensitive might contemplate the possibility that a ritual had been performed. Thus, opening day bestowed a perfect opportunity.

Many people would be distracted by the newness of it all and having never experienced it whole, they wouldn’t know what Neville’s greenhouse was “supposed” to feel like. Plus, with all the magical people, experiencing a lot of emotions, at a magical school, the signs would be easier to overlook.

Finally, there was the fact that they were kids, and it was broad daylight. Who would think that first- and second-years would comprehend enough and be bold enough to do such a thing?

As for the uncongenially suspicious, Dumbledore had expressed so much criticism about the project that they doubted anyone would take him seriously. Most details that seemed “ritualistic” could be attributed to Neville’s well-known sympathy with nature.

Neville reached the part of the incantation where the others were meant to join in, and after a few repetitions, the magic began to guide them to the “hidden verses.” According to accounts, no one could remember what the magic had guided them to sing. There were only theories, and the one Neville preferred postulated that the chants were composed of “pure treesong.”

As Harry chanted, he realized that he did kind of feel like a tree, swaying ever so slightly with the currents of magic.

“Why do you four call upon me?”

The tree is talking!

“We come to offer assistance with Hogwarts’ ability to protect itself and its beings, from students to forest dwellers, flora and fauna, and all souls who subsist on this land,” Neville put forth.

“And how do you propose to do that, hmm?”

“We seek your guidance,” Neville spoke deferentially. “Who but you would know best what you need?”

“What I need, stout heart, may be more than you are willing to give. I sense doubt in you.”

“I am simply afraid of being discovered. What we practice is no longer well-received in society, and the headmaster of the school is not inclined towards these types of traditions,” Neville clarified carefully.

“We discern his tenor. He claims to be a friend to every life, but he keeps all but his favorites and his playthings in the shadows. We don’t like him, but for Hogwarts, we serve.”

“We thought that you were Hogwarts,” Neville stated slowly.

The tree guffawed, “We are and we are not. What of you, hunter soul?” The tree focused on Theo. “Why do you insist on these rituals, hmm?”

“I don’t like the discordance, be it the castle walls that cannot sufficiently keep the children safe, the powerful wards that are lacking the necessary support, or the students that act not for themselves but others. If things can be righted, then I want to see them righted.”

“Do you despise hypocrisy, then?”

“I do not despise it, but I do not care for it either. There is enough hypocrisy that rights itself for me to focus on other matters.”

“What do you hate, quester?”

“Cruelty for cruelty’s sake,” Theo declared.

“As do I,” the tree proclaimed and turned to Luna.

“The moon in the sunshine, a delightful sight to behold.” Luna beamed. “You must visit me often.” Luna nodded, and the tree fixed their gaze on Harry.

“You disappoint,” the tree drawled. “You are not seeking out your natural talents.” Harry’s brow furrowed. “Very well, stick with your slow approach, but do not delay too long, or we might push you in.”

The tree grinned! There weren’t actually teeth, but somehow, they pulled it off.

“We must be quick, but I expect all of you to visit regularly. Henceforth, when this locality crosses your mind, do not ignore it. You’ll know when we are done. Now, I will require blood from each of you. Do not worry about the cuts. My roots will heal you when they are done.”

They’d come prepared with small, nondescript knives, but the tree shook loose four sharp branches. Once they’d sliced their hands, four roots rose from the ground and covered the openings. The exchange was odd but not unpleasant. Seemingly on instinct, all four students offered the branches they’d used to the roots, before they disappeared into the ground again.

“Thank you,” Luna whispered into the dirt.

“You chose well. This is a propitious day for unions and introductions.” The tree’s branches quivered happily. “Until we meet again…”

“Wait,” Harry said, “what’s your name?”

“We can be called Niamh.” The tree winked, and their surface was solid and static again.

“That,” Neville began, “was the most amazing thing to ever happen to me!” The others laughed and cleared away the evidence while Neville laid hands on the central tree's bark, completely in awe.

Finally, the four students put the finishing touches on the greenhouse. This involved arranging the seating areas, which Neville had deliberately postponed to disguise their intentions. They’d all planned to stay until the end of the quidditch match, but then Luna made a pronouncement.

“You must go, Harry, or Dumbledore will leave the game early.”

“Thanks, Luna. We’ll see you two soon.”

As Harry and Theo reached the exit, Luna spoke again. “No, Harry, you must arrive late, and I must leave early. Theo, do not leave Harry’s side. Neville, Niamh will keep you safe. Stay till the end, and return to the castle with Harry and Theo.” Then she walked to a colorful pouf and plopped down distractedly.

“She has spoken.” Harry’s words dispelled the trance that had gripped them. “I’ll see you later, Nev.” Then, Harry grabbed Theo’s arm and rushed ahead. “Let’s make sure that asshole espies me.”

“Are you going to pretend you’re eager to see the rest of the match?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Of course not, I’ll make a show of greeting Lucius.” Harry smirked wickedly.

Theo snorted. “That’ll do it.”

———

“I’m sure Mr. Potter will be here soon, Cornelius. He’s worked diligently to bring this project to fruition,” Dumbledore said.

“Is that right? I never imagined he’d have such a passion for herbology. It’s not often a younger student shows such expertise. This place is wonderful.” The Minister of Magic gazed around and spotted Neville, who was tending to a flustered orchid. “Who’s that there?”

“That’s one of Mr. Potter’s good friends. Mr. Longbottom has helped tremendously with this operation.”

“He’s certainly committed, isn’t he? Still working on things even when it’s time to celebrate.” Dumbledore hummed in reply, glancing around, asking himself where that blasted boy was.

A dreamy voice interrupted the headmaster’s caprices. “Hello, Minister Fudge, I see you are enjoying the winter garden. Didn’t Neville do a marvelous job?”

“Hello, miss, who’s Neville?”

“Neville Longbottom,” Luna elucidated, pointing in Neville’s direction. He’d moved on to another plant but was still within Fudge’s line of sight. “This is his vision. What a lovely place his mind must be.” Then, she drifted away.

“Albus, from the way you were speaking, I assumed this was Mr. Potter’s endeavor.”

“Many students were involved, Cornelius,” Dumbledore replied evasively. “It is quite something when students can overcome their differences and work together.” Dumbledore hummed, in his all-knowing way.

Cornelius narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Excuse me, Headmaster, I should be mingling with others as well.” The minister casually walked towards a group admiring an extremely expressive fern.

The event was long past the “small talk” beginnings when Harry walked in with Theo and the Malfoys.

“This is glorious,” Narcissa remarked.

“It’s all Neville’s doing,” Harry stated proudly.

“Bring me to him, Harry. I must congratulate him on his talent and success. It’s a shame Augusta couldn’t make it. She’ll have to come to the next event to behold this magnificence.”

Harry led Narcissa to Neville, who turned multiple shades of red at her praise. Harry didn’t dare leave Neville alone, but he did step away slightly to give them time to talk about their shared interest. Harry had a hunch that he’d be seeing Neville at Malfoy Manor the following summer. Theo was next to him, as Luna had advised, and Draco was with his father, conversing with someone Harry didn’t recognize.

“This establishment feels better and better,” Theo whispered, and Harry nodded; a satisfied smile spread across his face.

“We’ll have to drop round at night, sometime. I’d like to see how the space feels after all the magic of the visitors has settled.” Theo turned curious eyes on Harry but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore greeted too loudly.

Out of a show of respect, Harry kept his voice low. “I’ve asked you not to call me that, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive an old man for forgetting the little preferences of young children, Mr. Potter.”

Asshole!

“Headmaster Dumbledore.” Narcissa placed her arm gently across Harry’s shoulders, and Harry focused on cooling his ire. “I’m delighted that you eventually saw the sense in this project. There’s such potential here.”

Dumbledore’s initial greeting had already drawn attention, and Narcissa’s voice carried mellifluously throughout the structure. Dumbledore simpered and surveyed the room, reassured by the incoming faces of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

“I was merely concerned that interhouse tensions would escalate with the children so far away from close supervision.”

“I can certainly understand that, but we can’t always be there to protect them, can we?” Narcissa regarded Harry fondly and ran a hand through his hair. “So” — Narcissa returned her attention to Dumbledore — “does this mean that you’ll provide an alternative within the castle? When I was a student here, I always thought it a shame that there were so many unused classrooms.”

“I can relate to you on that one, Lady Malfoy,” Arthur Weasley said.

“And what would you have wanted to see in one of the rooms, Mr. Weasley?”

“Evening diversions, open to all, would’ve been nice. Muggle board games, perhaps?” Arthur uttered with a faraway visage, oblivious to Dumbledore’s growing discomfort.

“I’m not yet acquainted with those, but over the summer, Lucius arranged for… Harry, dear, what’s it called again?”

“A home entertainment system,” Harry replied easily, and she smiled softly.

“That’s it. A home entertainment system. Harry and Draco were interested in viewing movies, and we thought it was safer to have them do so at the manor.”

“You were able to set up an entire muggle system in a magical home? I would love to learn how you achieved it. I’ve tried for years, but I can’t even get a Walkman to work long enough to listen to a whole record! You know, Albus, if the Malfoys understand how to do such things, movies would be an excellent indoor option for the children. You’d be presenting an alternative, which could ease your apprehensions, and at least one empty room would be put to good use.”

Lucius Malfoy joined them, with an amused Draco beside him. “Furthermore, the children would have something new to discuss amongst themselves. When I was in school, it was all classes and quidditch.”

“Now, Lucius,” Dumbledore said, “I know you explored other interests.”