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Chapter Text

With the twins gone, and fewer people at the Burrow, Harry expected that it might be a bit quieter at the Burrow. Since arriving on Friday, his hopes had been met with a couple of days of peace. He had got his OWL results and was finally up in the air playing Quidditch with the Weasleys when his expectations took a hard blow.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. IT’S COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE!”

The shouting from the Burrow made Harry stop in midair. While such shouting from the Weasley matriarch had been quite commonplace over the last few years, the usual suspects (the twins) had moved out and the other two youngest suspects were in the air with him. He turned to confirm this, when he felt the Quaffle being punted from his grasp.

“Keep up Potter!”

Ginny had taken advantage of his distraction to nick the Quaffle and head for Hermione, who was hanging near the goals. A quick feint saw Ginny score, but the older three teens simply sat on their brooms, listening to Mrs Weasley rant below.

“DUMBLEDORE WAS VERY CLEAR! IT IS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!”

Whoever was arguing back didn’t raise their voice, so only Mrs Weasley’s side of the argument could be heard. Even Ginny stopped after realizing that the other three were no longer paying attention.

“AFTER ALL THAT BOY HAS BEEN THROUGH, YOU WANT TO SUBJECT HIM TO THIS?”

Harry winced as Mrs Weasley’s impassioned defense of his delicate nature rang out across the Burrow. With a sigh, he pointed his broom down, figuring that if something was going on he should at least be aware of it. Stowing his broom in the Weasley’s broom shed, he was aware of Ron, Hermione and Ginny landing close behind him. He pulled his wand out as he crossed to the back door, in case it was needed.

Entering in the back door, he pulled up in surprise. Mad-Eye Moody and Remus Lupin were sitting calmly as the kitchen table. There was tension in the air, and Mrs Weasley was at the stove, angrily chopping vegetables.

“Potter," barked Mad Eye. “What was the advice I gave you before the first task?”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it as his brain processed the question. After a moments thought, he replied. “Trick question. You and I never met before the first task.”

Moody’s scarred face smiled. “Good lad. Always must watch out for imposters.”

Remus cleared his throat. “What was your father’s nickname in school?”

“Prongs,” Harry said quietly. Hermione gave him a gentle squeeze on the arm and Ron clapped his other shoulder in support. Remus, noticing the byplay between the three, smiled sadly in response.

Mrs Weasley, noticing the teens in the doorway, promptly shooed them upstairs to wash up before dinner. Harry looked at Ron with a quizzical expression and was met with a shrug. Clearly whatever issue Mrs Weasley had with their dinner guests, Ron was just as unaware as Harry was.

Rejoining the dinner guests gave no answers. Remus was the first to broach the subject of their OWL results and was swift to congratulate the three teens on their results. Harry squirmed a little under his gaze, still feeling ashamed of his E result in Potions, which would scupper his plans to be a Auror. But the adults were, thankfully, just as effusive in their praise for the boys results as they were for Hermoine’s near clean sweep of the Outstanding OWL’s. Harry felt a little better after this, having expected to fall in the shadow of his more intelligent best friend.

It was dessert before Remus raised the topic of discussion that had Molly Weasley in such a temper.

“Harry, we need your help with a small task for the Order next Saturday.”

Harry blinked at this. Professor Dumbledore had been very clear that Harry was to remain at the Burrow and that it was very well protected. For them to promptly take him out on an Order mission seemed counter to what Dumbledore had wanted. Mrs Weasley’s increasingly loud grumbles made it clear that this was the issue which had her in such a temper.

“What is the task and why do you need me for it?” Harry asked carefully. He was more than willing to help the Order out, but it seemed suspicious.

Remus smiled warmly at him. “I’ve had a thought about what happened a few weeks ago, at the Ministry.”

Hearing him say it twisted a knife in Harry’s too full stomach. He hadn’t thought about it, but Sirius had been Remus’s last school friend and he was sure the werewolf would blame him for his godfather’s death.

Remus went on, unaware of Harry’s musing. “We might be able to find something to help you with your Occlumency. Failing that, at the least, we might get another safe house out of the trip.”

“Dumbledore said it was not necessary.” Mrs Weasley interrupted fiercely.

Moody chimed in. “Dumbledore said we could do it, lass. He didn’t think it was a bad idea, just not a critical one.”

Hermione cut across the adults before they could start arguing again. “Where are you going and why do you need Harry specifically?”

Remus took up the explanation again. “We are planning on going to Harry’s grandparent’s place. We are thinking we will probably need Harry, since he is the last Potter, to get through the wards without destroying them completely. We might also find the Potter grimoire.”

Harry leaned forward, a confused look on his face. “The Potter grimoire?”

Remus sighed. “Sometimes I forget just how little you know. Most pure blood families have a family grimoire, a book of magic that the family has learned and accumulated over the years. The Black family grimoire, which we looked for at Grimmauld place over the past year, is reputably full of the Darkest possible magic. I wouldn’t expect that from the Potter grimoire, but it should be full of useful magic.”

Hermione had lit up at this, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Ron and Ginny had also adopted looks of interest, but Harry was still wary “How would that have helped with Occlumency lessons?”

Remus smiled sadly “Most of the grimoires have different ways of shielding your mind. Since Severus was… unable to help you in one of the more common ways, finding a way suited to your family might be a bit more tailored to you.”

Moody growled. “Right now, Voldemort is shielding against you. You hurt him in the Ministry battle but the control is all on his side. If we could find a different way to help you learn Occlumency, it could give you control over the link as well.”

Remus picked up where Moody left off. “Tonks and I ducked out earlier this year and checked Godric’s Hollow. It wasn’t there, so logically it should be at your grandparents”

Harry felt better about this. While he had accepted Dumbledore’s reasons for the fiasco of last year, more control over his own mind was appealing. A curious thought struck him and he blurted it out before anyone else could interrupt. “Did you know them? My grandparents?”

Remus nodded “A little. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. We went over there a few times during holidays. They were older than most parents but absolutely adored any friends that James brought over. Sirius ended up with them after being kicked out in fifth year. The died from Dragon pox shortly after your parent’s wedding.”

"But surely you don’t need to go open up the house. Harry is safe here.” Mrs Weasley interrupted.

But Harry felt excited at the thought of exploring and learning more about his family. He had known growing up that he must have had grandparents but had never known the names of his father’s parents.  He looked Mrs Weasley in the eye and said firmly, “I’d like to go.”

Mrs Weasley gave him a sad smile of her own. “Of course you’d like to, dear. But we have to look after you.”

Moody and Remus shared a look before Moody took charge. “We can take a decent guard. You, me…What’s Bill doing that day?”

“’E are looking at houses then. As much as his work is needed for ze order, I do need him occasionally.” Fluer spoke up from the door.

Moody turned at her but Lupin waved her away. “I’ll ask Jones or someone. I was planning on leaving Tonks here as a guard.”

“As long as you aren’t dragging my children on this fool adventure, Remus,”Mrs Weasley growled.

Lupin smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Molly.”

With a rough plan set in for the next weekend, Lupin and Moody took their leave and Fleur started asking Molly questions about who should be invited to the wedding. Harry, Hermione and the younger Weasleys took advantage of the distraction and disappeared off to Ron’s room. Once there, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, his best sources of knowledge on the wizarding world.

“What’s so important about these grimoires?”

Ron grimaced, then spoke. “They’re a mark of status in the wizarding world. Supposedly most of the old pureblood families have one, though I’ve never seen one. They contain magic that the family has deemed important. Secrets family members have discovered. Stuff like specialised potion recipes, spells that an old family member had developed.”

Ginny nodded. “Aunt Muriel probably has the Prewett one. I think our cousin Primus has the Weasley one. I don’t know about who has any others.”

Hermione, who had looked excited about the prospect of new books, now looked a bit disheartened. “I suppose no one will let me read one”

Harry smiled at her. “It’s okay Hermione. You can help me with the Potter grimoire.”

Hermione smiled back at him at this and Harry felt better about the whole situati.on.

The Saturday morning was grey and overcast, promising the rain of the typical British summer. Tonks sidled into the Burrow, looking shockingly normal with drab brown hair. As soon as breakfast was done, Harry was bundled out the door by Remus and Moody, who checked to make sure he had his invisibility cloak and wand. They were out the door and marching down the path when they heard a shout behind them.

“Wait!”

Behind them came Hermione, with a small beaded bag acting as her purse. She was busy pulling a rain jacket over her head in expectation of the future weather, while walking quickly down the garden path.

The three men looked at each other, then back at Hermione. She looked back at them, a hint of defiance in her expression. Harry didn’t bother to argue, simply turning and offering his arm to Remus to be side-along Apparated. Moody growled at her. “What are you doing?”

“Coming with you,” Hermione said calmly, straightening her jacket. “Harry promised me I could help him with the grimoire.”

“I’d give up now,” Harry said bemusedly. “No one in their right mind gets between Hermione and a book.”

Harry didn’t need to turn around to see the glare Hermione was shooting at the back of his head, but she didn’t hex him so Harry figured he was safe.

“It might not be safe, girl,” Moody replied roughly.

“That doesn’t deter her,” Harry sang out in response, still looking away from Hermione at the gate ahead. “She’s followed me into far worse situations for a lot less.”

Remus looked at Harry curiously and Harry shrugged. At this, Remus simply took Harry’s arm and walked along to the gate. Harry didn’t turn, but could hear two sets of footsteps behind him, so he felt that Hermione must have won the argument.

After reaching the gate, Remus gripped Harry’s arm tightly and Harry once more felt the squeezed through a tube sensation of being Apparated. He popped out on a hillside, which was covered in mist and fog. A thud and a groan from behind them signaled the arrival of Mad-Eye and Hermione. Remus and Moody quickly began scanning the area around them, wands drawn. Hermione, the source of the groan, looked more interested in not throwing up.

There was no one around. Not even birdsong or animal noises disrupted the eerie stillness. Harry, being a little more practiced at Apparition, had successfully retained the contents of his stomach, drew his own wand and joined the men in looking around.

Seemingly satisfied, Moody stowed his wand and conjured a simple chair for himself to sit in. Remus, meanwhile, began muttering incantations and moving his wand in complicated patterns. Hermione moved up closer to Harry and took his left hand in hers.

“You could have warned me what Apparition is like.”

Harry channeled his inner McGonagall and looked back at her with one raised eyebrow. Hermione huffed and went on. “I mean, some hints of imminent spewing might have been appreciated."

Harry smiled back at her. “But then you wouldn’t have the full experience.”

Hermione scowled back at him, mist droplets condensing in her curly hair. “There are some experiences I can do without, thank you.”

Harry’s smile fell, remembering how Hermione had taken the purple fire curse weeks earlier in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione saw his smile falling and gave him a reassuring smile back in return. Harry was about to ask her about her wound but a sharp whistle cut through the air.

Instantly both of the adults spun, wands drawn and pointed into the mist. Harry pulled his cloak out, flinging it one-handed over Hermione, who disappeared with a small yelp. His own wand was out when Bill and Fleur stepped from the mists.

Moody turned his ire on the couple. “What're you doing here? And what’s the password?”

Bill raised his arms in an act of surrender. “We don’t have a password. The ones you made up were too complicated for anyone to remember.”

Moody grunted but turned his wand away from Bill. Harry lowered his own wand, ignoring the reappearance of Hermione from under the invisibility cloak. “I thought you were going to look at houses?”

Fleur smiled brightly at him. “'E are. There’s a house here somewhere, isn’t there? And we will look at it, when we find it.”

Bill smiled at her, then turned back to Harry. “She thinks she’s funny. She’s right though. We can help you find your grandparents house and Mum will be none the wiser.”

Harry felt buoyed by this show of support. Hermione pressed his invisibility cloak back into his arms, glaring at him fiercely. Fleur started laughing at this, so Hermione turned her glare on her. For some reason, this only made Fleur laugh harder.

Bill took over from Remus and the former Defense Professor came to stand by Harry. Harry turned to him. “Where are we, anyway?”

Remus hesitated, then explained. “West Country. Godric’s Hollow is about a ten minute walk that way.”

Harry looked in the direction of his wave, realizing that this was the closest he had been to the place where his parents had been killed since that fateful Halloween. Hermione, perhaps realising the train of Harry’s thought, hugged him gently. Harry felt torn, wanting to complete that little walk and see where it had happened, yet at the same time somehow repulsed by the idea.

"Have you ever been back?” Remus asked Harry quietly.

Harry shook his head, still looking away into the fog. “I never even knew where they lived until I went to Hogwarts.” He was glad then, for the fog. It disguised the moisture in his eyes.

An exclamation behind them broke the tense atmosphere and Harry, Hermione and Lupin turned to see Bill and Fleur, who had wandered some distance away, looking intently at a rock on the ground. The three walked quickly over as the sun finally broke through the fog. Even Moody got up from his conjured chair and hobbled over to see the curse breakers work.

Bill knelt on the ground, a rock sitting in front of him. Glowing white script was on the rock in front of him, in some language he didn’t recognise. Fleur crouched over it, waving her wand in a complicated pattern.

Eventually, Fleur sat back. “Eet is not in any language I recognize,” she said simply. “Bill?”

Bill shook his head in reply. “Nothing here either. I thought it might be runic but it’s not something I recognize”

Hermione bent over the rock, obstructing Harry’s view for a moment, then she pulled out a pen and notebook from her bag and began to copy the unknown inscription.

Harry frowned. “We’re thinking about this the wrong way. Who would have made this?”

Everyone turned to look at him and Hermione gave him a brilliant smile before turning back to her notebook.

Remus frowned. “The last time I remember coming here was for your grandparent’s wake. After that, I ended up on the continent as part of a pack for the next few years. I wasn’t in close contact with your parents, so I don’t know who might have done this.”

Moody growled. “Logically James and Lily would have warded the house, then?”

Fleur shook her head. “This is not English, and it won’t translate to any language I know.”

Bill had resumed waving his wand in a pattern around the rock. “Is there someone they would have trusted enough to do this work who isn’t English? Or someone else we can ask?”

Lupin frowned “Unless we want to take it to Dumbledore, I don’t know anyone who might know about it.”

Hermione seemed to have finished her drawing and wandered off a little way to study it. Harry looked at her but she was completely absorbed in making notes on what she had drawn.

Harry frowned. “How can we bypass the wards then? Take it down?”

Bill shook his head. “The whole thing has some fairly hefty anti-tamper spells on it. I think it might actually explode if we try and brute force it.”

Harry swallowed. “When you say explode…”

Bill smiled grimly at him. “As in destroy the house, this hill and probably us.”

Moody started laughing. “Clever Potters! It’s a trap!”

Harry was feeling very nervous, he had been looking forward to getting the grimoire and visiting his grandparents’ house. Now it all might blow up!

Lupin was looking at the rock. “It must be Lily’s work. James never did Runes or Arithmancy. She was good at both. I don't know where she found this language though”

Speaking of someone who was good at Runes and Arithmancy, Harry glanced back over at Hermione, who was still engrossed with her notebook. She had taken Moody's chair, not to sit on but to lay out different pages of paper. She showed no sign of interest in the conversation.

“It’s masterful work." Bill chimed in. "Looks like it needs blood and a password to disable the trap.”

Hermione wandered back over. “What’s going on? What trap?”

Harry turned towards her. “Bill thinks Mum rigged it to explode if the Death Eaters turned up. It needs blood, presumably mine and an unknown password.”

"Et is unlikely the password is English.” Fleur helpfully added.

Hermione looked back at her notes. “Ah. I might have a lead on that.”

Everyone looked at her and Harry felt hope rising in his chest. “What’s the lead?”

Hermione squirmed under the gaze of the other five. “I think I recognize the language. How many chances do we have on the password?”

Everyone looked at Bill, who sighed. “Probably only one.”

Hermione nodded, having come up with a plan. “We verify, then. I think I need to go to Godric’s Hollow and check something at your old house.”

Everyone looked back at Hermione but she had wandered back to her bag and pulled out a potions vial. Checking the colour, she pulled out the stopper and sniffed it gently. Satisfied, she started packing up her notebook and putting everything back into her bag, except for the potion.

Lupin leaned over to Harry. “I didn’t realise Hermione spoke any other languages.”

Harry shrugged. “She’s been on holidays to France, Switzerland and Bulgaria since I’ve known her.” A pang of regret swept through him at that. He had never left Britain. “She must have picked it up somewhere.”

Hermione carefully measured out half of the potion into another vial. With both in hand, she walked carefully back to the group. A memory clicked in Harry’s mind. “Is that…?”

Hermione smiled at him. “Polyjuice, yes. I thought it might come in handy.” She looked around at the group and her eyes settled on the two curse breakers. “Bill, Fleur, would you care to stay behind? I don’t think you’ll be needed for this. But I do need a hair from each of you.”

Harry frowned, a little troubled by the thought of impersonating people he knew and actually liked. “We could use the Cloak.”

Hermione shook her head. “We’re outgrowing the Cloak. Both of us together barely fit under it anymore. And we might need to move quickly.”

Harry thought about it but couldn’t really argue back. Hermione, as always, was probably right.

“Polyjuice potion," growled Moody. “A good idea. Did you get it from a trusted source?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione tartly. “I brewed it myself.”

Lupin looked confused. “I thought you didn’t cover Polyjuice until seventh year?”

Harry snorted and everyone turned to look at him. “She brewed it back in second year. It’s fine… as long as we don’t add cat hair to it.”

Hermione glared at him. She might have hit him or cursed him but she still had a potion vial in each hand.

Bill sighed. With a practiced move, he carefully plucked out a hair from his long tresses and offered it to Hermione. Fleur did the same. With a little swapping of hands, she managed to add one hair to each vial. She then held out one to Harry.

Harry blinked. Gently taking the vial from her, he held it for a moment. “Once I drink this, we’re on a clock,” he said calmly. “Let’s go over the plan first.”

Hermione nodded. “Simple enough. Moody and Remus apparate us in there, we search the house. I’m after their books, so try and note anything about runic languages on the shelves. I’m going to check my best guess, if I’m right I’ll confirm the password and we can pop straight back here.”

Remus held up a hand. “Moody, what’s your best apparition point?”

Moody growled. “The churchyard. Been to too many funerals there.”

Remus closed his eyes at that. “Agreed. Harry, we can give you a few minutes at the graves, but not much more.”

Harry swallowed. Half an hour ago visiting his parents graves had seemed like a distant thought for another day. Now they were going there. He nodded at Remus’ words, unable to trust his own voice.

Since they seemed to be in agreement, Hermione drank her potion. Its was weird to watch, seeing Hermione’s features writhe and shift, to be replaced by Fleur. As Fleur blue eyes looked at his expectantly, Harry sighed and drank his own.

It was an improvement over the taste of Goyle back in second year, but not by much. Harry closed his eyes and waited for the twisting, wrenching feeling to solidify itself back into stable flesh. He opened his eyes to a blurry world, then realized his mistake and took his glasses off, slipping them into a pocket.

Fleur and Hermione stood together and Harry could only tell which was which by the clothes. As he watched, Fleur fixed the issues with a wave of her wand, adjusting the hems on Hermione’s pants so they fit. Fleur promptly walked over to Harry and Harry felt weird looking down at her. With a few more waves of her wand, Harry felt more comfortable in his clothes.

Satisfied, Fleur gave him a jaunty wave and Bill joined her. Remus grabbed hold of his hand and Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling of Apparition once more.

Godric’s Hollow, once Harry’s home, was cloaked in the last of the morning fog still. Remus had popped them near to the church and Harry did a quick check to make sure he had all his fingers and toes attached. Another pop sounded nearby, and Moody and Fleur/Hermione popped into being next to the graveyard. Shaking off Remus’ arm, Harry hurried to meet them.

Hermione smiled at him, then kissed him on the cheek. Too shocked to reply, Harry let Hermione lead him past a small gate. Once there, they let Remus take the lead, taking them over to one of the later rows of graves. There Remus bowed his head at a white marble headstone.

It was a simple enough stone. It had his parents’ names and dates of birth and death. Harry noted that his mother was slightly older than his father, but by less than two months. Oddly enough, the quote along the bottom was Biblical. “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”

Harry felt the grief in his heart, a crushing weight that his parents’ mortal remains lay under the summer grass. For all his life he had simply accepted the loss of his parents as a fact of being but seeing the stone drove home the guilt that they had died for him. Hermione held his hand in her own, offering what small comfort she could.

After a moment Remus raised his head and looked at him. “Fleamont and Euphemia are just over there as well," he said quietly in a low voice. 

Harry and Hermoine went to the indicated stone. Indeed, like his parents, it was adorned with their names and dates of birth and death. Harry noted this time that his grandfather was a little more than two years older than his wife.  This time, the quote was simpler. “Two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one.”

Harry frowned at that. He didn’t recognize that one. Hermione, however reached out and brushed her fingers across the words. He looked at her quizzically and she smiled softly. “It’s a quote by John Keats.”

Harry had neither heard of the quote, nor knew anything about John Keats. But he presumed it made some sense to the rest of his family.

Moody grunted behind them and Harry, Hermione and Lupin remembered that they were indeed on a time limit. With one last nod to his buried forebears, Harry let himself be led from the graveyard.

They walked quickly through the small village as the last of the fog disappeared. So much had happened that Harry hadn’t realized that it was still morning. Lupin had taken the lead and before long they stood before a long abandoned house.

A sign proclaimed the origin of the house and the events that had happened there fourteen years before. Lupin ignored it and walked down the path to the front door. Only by the set of his jaw could Harry see how much stress it was doing to the man.

A thin layer of dust had settled over everything. Hermione dropped Harry’s hand in favour of going to the bookcase in the sitting room. Lupin went with her, scanning through the books and pulling a few likely ones off the shelf. But whatever Hermione was looking for wasn’t there.

Harry couldn’t move. Here he was, in his parents house, where they had died. He looked around, the house unnaturally still. He felt overwhelmed by it all. The grief from the graveyard had returned and sat like a weight in his heart.

Hermione returned from the bookshelf, her hands empty. It was strange to see her very Hermione facial expressions on Fleur’s face. Her perfect teeth worried at her bottom lip and her eyes showed anxiety that Fleur had rarely shown.

She took a deep breath. “How safe is it upstairs?”

Remus came back over with three thick tomes in hand. “Safe enough. Just don’t go to close to the edge.”

Hermione nodded and began to climb the stairs. Harry followed her woodenly, more to keep an eye on her than anything. Upstairs, Hermione moved from room to room methodically, checking both his parent’s bedroom and a spare for bookshelves. Finding none, she moved on to the nursery.

Here was shown the damage of the Killing Curse backfire. Most of the room was open to the sky and ivy had begun to grow over the cot. The furniture had been thrown around, either by the blast or by his mother in some last desperate attempt to defend them both. A small set of drawers had fallen out of the hole at some point, Harry could see its bright colours in the sunlight, lying in the overgrown grass

But Hermione paid no attention to any of that. Immediately after entering the room, she had knelt beside a fallen bookcase, running her hands along the titles. She soon seized on one, pulling it out and opening it on the floor. Her hands moved faster than Harry had ever seen them but after less than a minute she had the book open to a specific page. There, opposite a page of text, was a drawing of a door, with the same weird writing on it.

Hermione didn’t stop there, pulling out her notebook from before and comparing the two. After a moment she sat back on her heels and smiled up at Harry. “Mellon,” she said.

“Melon?” Harry replied, confused. How did fruit come into this?

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “Mellon, two L’s. It’s the password.” Hermione looked around and seemed to realise that Harry’s thoughts were not, in fact, in line with hers. Her mouth opened in a silent ‘o’. “Oh Harry, I’m so sorry!”

Harry waved her apologies away. Standing in the middle of his destroyed nursery, disguised as two different people wasn’t exactly the best place and time to hear her apology. “We came here for the password, didn’t we?”

Hermione nodded, standing up. She tucked the book and her notes in her bag and looked at Harry. “Are you ready to go?”

Harry looked around. There was nothing more to see here. Nothing had changed but the slow degeneration of time since that fateful Halloween when Voldemort had attempted to subvert the prophecy. Here where his mother had died, giving up her chance to live in the slim chance that Harry would be spared.

Harry felt the urge to do something, to say anything. But nothing he could think of could change what had happened. Nothing he could say could ease the aching gulf in his heart.

Hermione took his hand again and Harry allowed himself to be led from the room. Hermione led him back down the stairs, where they met Lupin in the hall. Harry looked around but he could see no evidence for where his father had fallen. Had he fallen here, in the hall? On the stair? Upstairs? He didn't know, and there was no way to find out here and now.

“We’ve got the password,” said Hermione to Lupin quietly. Her hand still held his firmly, as if she was worried he’d wander off. Lupin nodded somberly.

“Is there anything you want to take?” His voice cracked as he asked.I

Harry shook his head. Once upon a time he might have looked through the cottage, eager to learn everything he could have about his parents. But after learning that they had died to protect him, that they had hidden for the last two years of their lives to give him a chance, it all felt very hollow.

Lupin led them to the front door, where Moody was waiting. His raised eyebrow was met with a nod from Lupin and he took Harry’s hand, pulling it free from Hermione’s.

With a crack they disapparated and reappeared on the hillside. Harry said nothing, but simply collapsed into Hermione’s arms and wept.

Chapter Text

After some time, Harry came back to his senses to realise that the Polyjuice had worn off. His clothes hung a bit him, evidence Fleur’s wardrobe enhancements hadn’t been cancelled and he was being held by Hermione, who was also back to being herself. She sat on the grass, gently hugging Harry, and her face had tear tracks of her own.

Harry sat up, taking his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. The hill came into sharp contrast again and his eyes immediately caught upon the four adults, who sat a short distance away. At some point someone had ducked out and gotten food, as well as a picnic blanket. Only Moody eschewed the blanket, sitting as before on his conjured chair.

Hermione gave him a questioning look and Harry gave her a weak smile in return. Hand in hand they walked over to the picnic blanket. Fleur happily gave them a space on the blanket, hopping into Bill’s lap. Remus gave them an amused glance as she did so. Harry picked up a sandwich and began to slowly eat it.

“So what’s the password, lass?” Moody growled.

Hermione swallowed a bite of her own sandwich before replying. “I was checking for two things in Godric’s Hollow. The presence of a book as well as the translation from it. It’s a common enough Muggle book, I thought Lily might have changed it to make it trickier.” She beamed, like they were in class and she had just gotten back a good score on her homework. “The writing translates to 'speak, friend and enter'."

Lupin looked confused. “How does that give us the password?”

“It’s a riddle! The word for friend is the answer!” Hermione said brightly.

Harry started laughing. The morning had been very draining emotionally, but here was Hermione, always ready to solve the riddle or find the book to fix the problem. When he had his laughter under control again, he gasped out. “Hermione, I’m very glad you’re on my side."

Hermione smiled back at him. “Your mum was pretty smart, Harry. No wizard could have gotten that."

Harry’s smile fell as he considered the implications. “I wonder what the plan was if she had died?”

Hermione shrugged. “Your dad probably knew as well.”

"Sirius may have been told," Remus broke in, "as well as Alice Longbottom. She was a close friend of your mother’s.”

So many people had died, sacrificed to keep Harry alive. It was enough to make him want to cry again, but Harry put it aside. “Are we sure it will need my blood?”

Bill looked at Lupin and nodded. “If your parents used your blood to set up the protections in the first place, it would mean that either of them could have accessed it afterwards. If they used either of theirs, the other might have been locked out.”

Harry waved away Fleur’s offer of another sandwich. “Mellon, right?”

Hermione stood from the picnic blanket. “It can’t be anything else, really?"

Harry thought for a moment. “Fleur, take Hermione a safe distance away, please.”

Fleur gave Bill a deep kiss, before taking Hermione’s hand and popping away. Harry and Bill walked over to the stone. Harry looked over all his various scars, debating which might take some additional scarring. Bill simply touched his wand to the back of Harry’s left hand, painlessly drawing a small amount of blood. He moved it over the stone and looked at Harry.

“Mellon.”

At this, the blood fell onto the stone and the hillside lit up with a bright light. For a moment Harry thought it had all gone wrong, that they had somehow triggered the trap and blown up the hill. But then the light cleared to reveal a house.

It was made of dark stone but there was plenty of windows. The white windowsills contrasted strongly and there appeared to be three levels of window, although that did include a couple in the attic. The roof was a faded orange colour and Harry realised he had no idea how old the house was. However, he could see a fairly new looking greenhouse poking out from the back of the house. 

A low stone wall made a long loop around the perimeter of the house, coming up to the height of Harry’s armpits. A short distance away, the wall rose into a gate wide enough to admit them all walking side by side. Above the gate the words Godric's Tor proclaimed the name of the house. There was a path leading into the house but a meter after the path left the gate, it ended abruptly.

As they were looking at the house, before they could step further towards it, there was a distinct pop of Apparition and Hermione and Fleur reappeared. The morning of Apprarating had done Hermione some good, she no longer looked like losing her lunch.

“E are still alive, then?” Fleur said, dropping Hermione’s hand and walking over for a quick kiss with Bill.

“For now," growled Moody, who had his wand out and was casting spells with it. Lupin also had his out, but the werewolf held his in more readiness, waiting for the former Auror to finish his check. Harry also had his wand out but knew he would only cast spells if it was absolutely necessary. Being framed for breaking the Statute of Secrecy and the use of underage magic had that effect on him.

“Someone’s there!” Moody shouted and pointed his wand at a small, indistinct figure coming from the house. The little figure, as small as a child, hurried towards the group.

“Hold!" shouted Lupin, who lowered his wand. Harry didn’t lower his and neither did Moody, but neither of them prevented Lupin from running towards the figure.

It was only when the figure stumbled and fell onto the ground that Harry recognized the features of a house elf. Harry began to walk towards the figure but Lupin, who had arrived at the fallen elf, waved Harry on faster.

Harry responded by breaking into a run and was soon beside the fallen elf. Lupin held the elf’s head off the ground, and Harry could see that the elf looked sick. It’s skin was pale and grey and its big luminous eyes were closed

“Harry, put your hands on her. Quickly.”

Harry gently touched the elf and felt the surge of magic from him to the elf. It had an instantaneous effect on the elf as well and the colour came back into her skin. Her bright blue eyes flickered open and fixed on Harry.

“Master Harry," the little elf said weakly.

In the absence of anything else to say, Harry simply said . "Hi."

Lupin chuckled. “Harry, meet Fizzy, the Potter family house elf.”

Another house elf. Harry had just gotten used to the idea that he owned Kreacher, who he had promptly sent off to Hogwarts. Now here was another, happily calling him master. He looked up from his position on the ground to see Hermione looking down at him with a disapproving look on her face.

“Are you okay, Fizz?”

Remus’ question to the elf brought Harry’s focus back to the elf on the ground. She nodded back, her movements stronger than before. “Fizzy is eager to go back to being a Potter house elf.” A frown crossed the small being’s face. “Where is Master James and Miss Lily?”

Silence fell over the group. Of all the things Harry had expected to find at his grandparents house, a house elf who had no knowledge of his parent’s deaths was not even close being on the list.

“They were killed, Fizz. The Dark Lord came for them."

Harry was grateful to Remus. He didn’t feel up to the explanations of the last fifteen years. Fizzy took the news hard, sobbing wildly and pressing herself into Harry, who gently hugged her back, trying her best to comfort the elf. Hermione stood next to Harry, letting Harry take care of the elf like she had of him.

Eventually Fizzy calmed down enough to hear and respond to questions. She had stayed behind when James and Lily had quietly moved into Godric’s Hollow, looking after Fleamont and Euphemia. When they had passed from dragonpox, Fizzy had stayed in Godric’s Tor, keeping the place going.

James and Lily had had no chance to make long term plans, as the prophecy and Harry had made appearances in quick succession. With Fizzy’s help, they warded the basement, stored all the valuable and sentimental objects there and set the trap for Voldemort. A source of magic was required to keep the wards up, so Fizzy stayed in the basement. Lily had set a stasis charm into the wards and the last thing Fizzy remembered was them departing.

Fizzy didn’t know who else might have known about the trap. Only James and Lily, with baby Harry in tow, had visited Godric’s Tor after the deaths of Fleamont and Effie. Fizzy wasn’t sure on the exact time but she thought the stasis charm had been set several months before the fateful Halloween night.

Remus took up the tale as much as he could. How James and Lily had been killed, Sirius imprisoned, Peter fled, Harry sent to live with the Dursleys, Sirius escaping, the resurrection of Voldemort, Sirius’ death at the Department of Mysteries.

While they continued on the story, Bill and Fleur had wandered a perimeter of the house, and Moody had summoned his chair. He sat with his back to all of them, facing away from the house and keeping watch.

Harry kept hold of Fizzy through it all. The little elf sobbed through parts of the story but clung to Harry. Harry in turn tried to comfort her, but didn’t feel very successful. Hermione got down on one knee but wasn’t able to still her tears or sobs any more than Harry could.

Finally, when all was said, Fizzy turned to Harry “Why has Master returned after all this time?”

Harry squirmed at the title of master, although he was grateful that she didn’t try and call him ‘great’ or ‘halfblood’ as Dobby or Kreacher had done. At least it was simpler this way. “We are hiding from the Dark Lord. We need a place where we can erect strong wards to protect us. We would not be here all the time, but use it as a safe house if the need arises.”

Fizzy nodded enthusiastically. “I can fix house back up! Fizzy is a good elf! Fizzy will work hard for Master Harry.”

Harry held up his hand. This seemed the best time to lay down some ground rules. “Fizzy, you must never work yourself too hard. You are only just recovering, you need to take time to let yourself heal and grieve.” Harry thought for a moment. “And no punishments. If you think you have been a bad elf, you will come to me and we will discuss it.”

Hermione butted in. Harry was surprised it had taken her that long. “And Harry will offer you payment for your work.”

Fizzy shuddered. “Fizzy is a good elf. Fizzy does not want payment."

Harry glared at Hermione. Hermione opened her mouth to object but closed it when she realized that Harry would not back her up on this one.

“Fizzy,” Harry said slowly. “Can you give us a tour of the house? When you feel up to it.”

Hermione gave him a grudging nod, as if to accept the fact that the payment issue would be deferred. Fizzy wiped her eyes on her little dress, then stood, accepting Harry’s hand. Much to his surprise, Fizzy then took Hermione’s hand as well.

“Godric’s Tor has been home for many many Potters," Fizzy began. “Though Fizzy was only hired shortly after Master James was born. Fizzy’s father worked for Potters long ago, so when Master Fleamont looked for a new house elf, Fizzy volunteered.”

Lupin caught his attention. “You three check out the inside. I’ll take Moody and do a perimeter sweep.”

Harry nodded, unsure if Remus just wanted to give him a moment or did actually need to check the perimeter. Fizzy eagerly tugged him and Hermione along to the front door, still talking about the house.

Harry felt a warmth as they crossed the threshold of the house, though he wasn’t sure if it was some magicor the elf telling him about his family. In front of him was a long corridor, with a set of stairs on the left climbing to the upper floors. Wood panelling covered the walls, but it had been done in light woods, to make the whole house seem brighter.

Fizzy continued. “The house has five bedrooms, all upstairs. One was for Master Fleamont and Mistress Effie, the master bedroom. One was for Master James, one for Master Sirius and the other two are guest rooms.” She took them through a door to the left. “On this side of the house, we have a parlour, sitting room, library and study. Master Fleamont had a Potions lab and two greenhouses at the back of the house.”

The mention of library reminded Harry of the other reason they were here. “Actually Fizzy. We were hoping to find the Potter grimoire while we were here. Do you know where it is?” He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking hungrily in the direction of the library.

Fizzy nodded enthusiastically. “Potter grimoire is in basement with many other books.” She grinned shyly. “Fizzy likes sorting the books.”

Harry smiled over at Hermione. “Fizzy, meet Hermione. She likes books too.”

Fizzy bowed. “Fizzy will enjoy sorting the books for Mistress Hermione.”

Harry and Hermione both blinked at Fizzy. Hermione was able to speak first. “I’m not your Mistress, Fizzy.”

Harry picked up on something else Fizzy was saying or not saying. “Fizzy, do you read the books?”

Fizzy shook her head. “Some books. Miss Lily brought Fizzy cookbooks with new things in them. But most books are confusing.”

Hermione knelt down to talk to Fizzy on her level. “I am Muggleborn, like your Miss Lily. I can find you new cookbooks and help you with the ones you have.”

Fizzy beamed. “Miss Hermione will help Fizzy with her books?”

Harry smiled at the two of them. “I think you’ve just made a friend for life." Both Hermione and Fizzy smiled back at him, which was good, because Harry was sure he didn’t want either of them upset with him. He picked a chair in the parlour and sat down in it. “Can you please bring the Potter Grimoire to me, Fizzy?”

Fizzy beamed, then popped away. Hermione glared at him, challenging him with a look.

Harry sighed. “It would take us ages to sort through the basement. It won’t take her any longer than..."

Fizzy popped back into the parlour, a large book, bound in leather, in her arms.

“... that," Harry said.

He took the book from her and gave its pages a quick flick. He couldn’t see any mentions of Occulemcy and was quite surprised by the number of potions recipes in the book. He gave up and handed the book to Hermione, who eagerly took it and sank down into another chair.

Harry started asking Fizzy questions about the house, who eagerly told her new master everything she knew. It was this little tableau that the adults walked into ten minutes later.

Bill Weasley froze. “Hermione, are you reading the Potter grimoire?”

Hermione simply waved at him, thoroughly distracted, leaving it to Harry to reply. “Yes. She reads a lot faster than I do.”

Bill looked a little wide eyed. “You know they usually have some pretty hefty curses on them for non-family members, right?”

This made Hermione look up. “Curses?”

Harry looked over in concern, but Hermione appeared fine. He stood and reached for the book and Hermione let him take it from her limp fingers. “Are you okay?”

Hermione looked back at him, a little wide eyed herself. “I feel okay.”

Bill and Fleur immediately waved their wands around Hermione, checking her over. Harry stared down at the tome in his hands, hoping that it hadn’t hurt his friend. After a moment, they pronounced her fine.

Harry looked at her carefully then offered the book back to her once more. She took it gingerly then, after nothing failed to happen, opened it once more.

Harry looked at the curse breakers and shrugged. “I gave it to her. I guess the book took it to mean she had permission."

Bill looked thoughtful. “That might be it. Or the curses on the book had simply worn down.” He glanced at Hermione, who had curled up on the love seat, once more engrossed in the Potter grimoire. “But maybe check before handing the book to anyone else, okay?”

Harry felt chastised. It hadn’t been that long ago he had led his friends into battle and got them all injured.

Bill went on. “The best protection we could put on this place is the Fidelius Charm. Now I can do the charm, now, or we could wait until someone like Dumbledore is free.”

Moody growled. “Just do it, boy. Albus isn’t always going to be here to wipe your arse.”

Fleur glared at Moody but Bill went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “The other question is who is going to be Secret Keeper. Now, it can’t be someone who would live here permanently, as it weakens the charm. Obviously it needs to be someone in the Order and someone who isn’t going to get drafted in as your protection detail.”

Harry frowned at that. “Protection detail?”

Lupin smiled at Harry. “Moody, Tonks and I are your emergency protection detail. If it comes to using this house, the three of us will be here with you.”

Moody growled. “Of the rest of the Order, I’d probably suggest McGonagall or Shacklebolt. They’re the strongest duelers. Dumbledore is already the Secret Keeper for Headquarters, so let’s go with someone else.”

The room fell silent, and Harry realised that they were waiting for his input. Either McGonagall or Shacklebolt would be an excellent choice… But if Harry ended up here, the two of them would be the most obvious choices. For a moment he considered Hermione then dismissed it. If they ended up hiding out here, they would probably take her along. Which left…

“Fleur”

The blonde witch looked startled. “Es?”

Harry looked at the men in the room. “Make Fleur the Secret Keeper”

The men started to object but Harry cut them off. “The more people we bring in, the harder it is to keep the secret. Fleur isn’t an obvious choice but she’s a capable, skilled witch. She won’t be here, so she’s not going to degrade the charm. And as far as anyone knows, she isn’t even here today.”

The room had fallen silent by the end of Harry’s spiel. The three men at least appeared to be considering the option. Fleur looked a little shocked at the suggestion. Hermione, engrossed in the grimoire once again, gave no indication that she had heard any of the conversation.

Finally Moody nodded. “It’s good enough. Go set up for the Fidelius.”

This broke the silence and Bill and Lupin went back out of the parlour. Fleur came over and gave Harry a quick hug, then followed. Moody just looked at Harry. “Good thinking there Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “Sirius wasn’t entirely wrong in his choice to switch Secret Keepers.” He felt a pang of grief as he spoke. “If it was known that I was under a Fidelius charm, Voldemort would work through the Order, starting with the strongest, or the closest to me. Fleur is pretty far down on both lists. Given the prejudice of the Death Eaters, they’d never believe we’d entrust a secret to her. So we use that against them.”

Moody nodded, as Hermione looked up. “What’s going on?”

Harry sighed. “We’re putting the house under the Fidelius Charm. Bill’s setting up for it now.”

Hermione brightened. “Can we go watch?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Hermione tucked the grimoire under one arm and let Harry lead her and Fizzy out the front door. Over where the ward stone was stood Bill and Fleur, close together talking back and forth. Moody’s distinct clunk of his wooden leg followed them out. Lupin was on the other side of the stone wall, watching off into the distance with his wand drawn.

Hermione stood on the drive and Harry waited, unsure about what she was waiting for.  She turned to Harry. “Do you want me to be your Secret Keeper?”

Harry shook his head. That showed how much Hermione had paid attention while reading a book. “If it comes down to that, I’d rather bring you inside under the charm. You’re too close to me. Too much of an obvious choice. We went with Fleur.”

Hermione blinked, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not she should be offended. Harry caught sight of Bill waving to them and took the lead, leading Hermione and Fizzy over to the elder Weasley.

“Usually I have to do a loop of the property,” Bill was explaining to Fleur as they got closer. “Sometimes, it is a good idea regardless. But with wards as old as these, we can simply tie the Fidelius into them, saving us the walk.”

Harry was reminded of the fact that although Fleur and Bill were engaged, he was her elder by a few years. His tone was that of a patient teacher with a talented student, it reminded him a little of his work with the DA. He looked at Hermione and wasn’t surprised to see her listening intently.

Seeing that Harry and his followers were out of the house, Bill waved them behind him and began casting “Quaero celare secretum...” His voice kept going and Harry was impressed by his concentration, as he kept waving his wand in a highly intricate pattern. As he talked and waved his wand, a soft yellow glow began to build on the end of it. After a few minutes of chanting and waving his wand, the yellow glow built to a almost blinding light. With a final flourish, he touched his wand to Fleur’s chest and the light disappeared.

Fleur gasped and Bill grabbed her to steady her. He held a finger to her lips and asked, “can anyone see the house?”

Harry turned around but the house had disappeared. As far as he was concerned, the hill was empty. Everyone else answered in the negative, Fizzy looked very upset but shook her head vigorously.

Bill smiled, and removed his finger from Fleur’s lips. She smiled and said softly, pronouncing each word carefully, “the house of Harry Potter is at Godric’s Tor.”

At once the house returned, popping back into existence as if it had never been gone. Fizzy gave a small cry of joy, happy to see her house returned.

With the house secure, Bill and Fleur quickly bid their farewells, eager to spend some time together. Moody, feeling that his work was done, found a comfortable chair in the parlour and sat in it. Lupin had wandered up the stairs, perhaps looking over the bedrooms. Hermione resumed her place in the loveseat she had previously occupied, once more reading at high speed through the grimoire. She looked concerned and was looking more frustrated as she went on. Harry sat near her, feeling that he was going to be needed in a moment, and Fizzy disappeared.

Finally Hermione put the book down with a frustrated growl. “There’s no mention of Occlumency here!” She glared at the book as if it had personally offended her.

Harry gently picked up the book. For a moment he considered reading it himself but dismissed the idea. If Hermione couldn’t find the answer in the book, Harry had little hope of picking up anything she missed.

An idea occurred to him. “Maybe there’s another book about Occlumency in the library. ”

Hermione’s face lit up at the idea and she practically dragged Harry through the sitting room. Harry had a brief view of the comfy looking sitting room and then they were in the library.

Harry’s first impression was of shelves. Lots of shelves. While it wasn’t as big as the library at Hogwarts, it was far bigger than any simple reading room. There was comfy chairs and small tables.

And, humming happily to herself was Fizzy the elf, who was bringing books in and resorting them on to shelves. Harry supposed it said something about his family, if the valuable and sentimental items Fizzy had saved from the houses destruction had included the entire library.

“Fizzy?” Hermione said.

Fizzy turned to Hermione, the books in her hands floating up to the shelf behind her. “Yes Miss?”

“Is there any books on Occulumency in here Fizzy?” Hermione said.

The elf wrung her empty hands. “Fizzy is not knowing enough reading to find book on Occulumency, Miss.”

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. It hadn’t occured to Harry that Fizzy would only know enough English to be able to read cookbooks. Judging from the expression on Hermione’s face, she hadn’t thought about it either.

“Fizzy wants to know why Miss needs a book on Occlumency, please."

Seeing no harm, Harry answered. “I need to learn it to protect myelf from the Dark Lord.”

Fizzy looked to be deep in thought, then brightened. “Fizzy will ask Master Fleamont! Go back to the sitting room, please.”

Harry was pretty sure Hermione’s shocked expression was mirrored on his own face. Fizzy had already confirmed that Fleamont was dead. Remus said he had been to thier funeral. So how was Fizzy going to ask Master Fleamont?

Forturnantely they were not left waiting long for a answer. Fizzy pooped into the sitting room carrying a large portrait. It immediately started shouting, two voices overlapping and not making much sense.

Once Fizzy hung it on the wall, Harry could step closer and take a look. The background of the portrait was Godric’s Tor, the house they were currently in, but Harry focussed on the two figures in the front. Both had dark hair, like him, although the man’s was shot through with silver. His hair was messy, like Harrys always was. He was wearing glasses over blue eyes and was quite tall.

The woman next to him was a touch shorter and had dark, curly hair. Her hazel eyes stared at him intently, as if trying to work him out through sight alone. Her skin had a touch of olive in it, which made Harry suspect that maybe she wasn’t English.

Before Harry could silence the two figures in the portrait, or at least answer any of the shouted questions, Fizzy popped back into the room with a second portait, and the shouting and questions increased fivefold. The second portait contained three figures, two men with light brown, messy hair and a slightly taller woman, who had straight black hair. Like the previous portrait, the three figures were also painted in front of Godric’s Tor.

Adding to the chaos, Lupin and Moody poured through the door, wands out and looking ready to curse someone. They added to the shouting but fortunately had the presence of mind to avoid casting any spells.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!”

Harry felt a little bit ashamed of his outburst, but it did have the intended effect. Everyone in the room, both alive and painted, went quiet. After a moment Harry started again.

“Okay. Moody, Remus, I think we have things under control.”

Moody looked like he might argue but put his wand away regardless. Remus put his wand away as well and led Moody out the door into the hall. Harry wasn’t sure they had gone much further than that but had neither the time or energy to argue. The sun was sinking towards the western hills and sooner or later they would need to return to the Burrow.

“My name is Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Potter, previously Evans," he began. “It is the year 1995 and I am aware that the house was under stasis for far longer than it was meant to. I have come to reclaim it and use it as a safe house if needed.”

Harry paused for a moment but the paintings seemed eager to let him keep talking. “I also came to seek out the Potter grimoire, in the hopes of finding spells and anything else useful to help me against Voldemort, who still hunts me.” He glanced at Hermione, then realised belatedly that he should possibly introduce her. “This is Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of the age, muggleborn and a good friend. I presume you know the house elf Fizzy.”

Fizzy gave a curtsy to the paintings and Hermione waved awkwardly, blushing. When the paintings remained quiet, Harry went on. “Can you please introduce yourselves and state what relation you are to me?”

The older man from the first painting was the first to speak. “My name is Fleamont Potter, father to James. That makes me your grandfather. This is my wife Euphimia, or Effie.”

Euphimia gave a elegant curtsy, her dark curly hair dancing around her shoulders. Harry wondered if she and Hermione should swap hair care tips sometime but the thought was interrupted by one of the men from the other painting.

“I am Charlus Potter, Fleamont’s father. With me are my brother Henry and my wife Dorea, formerly of house Black.”

Harry turned to the other painting, nodding in the direction of the three figures. Great grandparents and a great grand uncle? He wasn’t sure where Henry fell, since he wasn’t a direct ancestor. But it was the woman who captured his attention.

“Black? Are you any relation to Sirius?”

The dark haired lady in the middle of the men spoke. “Yes, I am his great aunt, or his first cousin thrice removed, depending on which way you calculate it.” Dorea looked at Harry with an intense stare. “Why is he not here to greet us?”

Without Remus there to do the explanations, Harry felt he had to step up. “He died, Grandmother. Only a few weeks ago.” His shame must have shown on his facebut none of the people in the paintings commented on it.

“The reason we’ve come here is to learn Occulumency from the Potter grimoire,” Hermione supplied, coming to Harry’s rescue. “Harry and Voldemort have a strange mental connection that we don’t fully understand. He needs help closing his mind but the Potter grimoire has nothing on Occulumency.”

The figures in the painting looked at each other, then Charlus spoke. “Well of course. The Potter family has never practiced Occulumency.”

Fleamont and Euphima moved over and joined the earlier generation in their painting. Henry Potter held up a hand. “We are discussing the secrets of the Potter family. Send the girl out of the room and use a privacy spell, please.”

Harry shook his head. “I owe Hermione my life many times over. And she has offered her assistance with this. I trust her completely. Whatever you have to say, you can say it to her.”

The five figures in the painting crowded together at that, talking intensely. Harry conceded one point to his great uncle. “Fizzy, can you ensure we have privacy, please?”

Fizzy simply waved her hand and nodded at Harry to tell him it was done. The group in the painting split, and Charlus resumed speaking. “We will defer to your judgement in this, grandson, though we would feel better if you enforced it with a Unbreakable Vow or magical oath. Have you read the grimoire?”

Harry shook his head. “We only retrieved it a hour or so ago. Hermione was the one to read it.”

Dorea looked expectantly at her husbandand Charlus frowned. “She didn’t need to be introduced to get through the curses on it?”

“Our local curse breaker friend thought the curses might have worn down. Harry handed me the book, so it might have accepted that as permission granted," Hermione said.

Fleamont looked curiously at his father. It was odd to think of them like that, since Fleamont and his wife had been painted in their old age, whereas Charlus and his generation had been painted in middle age. But Harry would try and keep them straight.

Charlus looked thoughtful. “He may be right. Still, every sunset the grimoire will return to the study. Maybe make sure to have Harry hand it to Hermione every time, if you need her help.”

Fleamont cut in. “In the grimoire, there is a section on finding connections. There’s a ritual involved. It should be the first non-Potions section of the book.”

Hermione flicked through the grimoire at a swift pace, then stopped as she located it. “Got it”

“That ritual will summon your soulmate. Simply kiss them to seal the connection and your minds will be impenetrable.”

Harry looked blankly at the painting, then at Hermione. “Is that true?”

Hermione looked like she was going to argue. “There is a ritual here... I think it does what he says it does.” She flicked back and forth over a section of book several pages long. “I didn’t know soulmates was a thing in the magical world.”

“It’s very rarely practiced," Charlus said. “But the Potters have always found thier strength in doing so. There is an alternative, an amulet you can create, but if time is of the essence the ritual is the better choice.”

Harry looked at the painting with dawning comprehension. “You did the ritual?”

Fleamont, Euphima and Henry nodded at that. Charlus waved away his question. “I did the amulet. So did your father.”

Harry had been so enthralled with talking to previous Potters that he had forgotten about his parents. “And everyone found their soulmates?”

Everyone looked at Henry and Harry realised that asking the only unattached person in the paintings might be a little tactless. It was the sort of thing Ron might have done and even Hermione looked at him with a shocked expression.

To his credit, Henry shrugged off the scrutiny. “It is enough for me to say that the ritual worked but I didn’t kiss her to seal the bond for various reasons. None of which should apply to you.”

Harry realised there was a deeper story here, one that also sounded incredibly personal.  He tried to give a dignified nod to his great uncle’s brief story, taking the offered out. An awkward silence fell over the room.

“So how does this work?” Harry asked

Chapter Text

Rituals, Harry discovered, were both really simple and incredibly complicated.

Hermione had given him a brief, simple overview of how they all worked and about ninety percent of what she had told him went over his head anyway. From what Harry gathered, a ritual was simply an act of magic based on Runes and Arithmancy that achieved a desired outcome. The complicated part was that a ritual often took a long time to set up and relied on specific ingredients that could change depending on the phase of the moon, or the weather, or the alignment of the stars. The simplest ritual Hermione knew was one to ripen fruit. It was three feet of parchment long and could be done in about half a day to ripen one piece of fruit.

The ritual to summon his soulmate was the most complicated ritual Hermione had ever seen. It ran for about thirty pages in the grimoire, the ingredients ran to the wild and bizarre and were almost entirely tailored to the individual in question. Harry was sure that even with Hermione’s impressive intellect, they would be utterly lost.

Fortunately, their visit to Godric’s Tor had yielded more than the grimoire. Fizzy had managed to find a small portrait frame into which the five Potters crammed, all trying to help Harry. So Harry was able to take the painted Potters (as Ginny called them) back to the Burrow.

Fizzy herself, of course, was quite happy and eager to help with anything that Harry needed. Although Moody cautioned him to be careful, Harry and the Weasleys allowed Fizzy to help out around the Burrow. Fizzy was eager to help, though she was disappointed in the lack of books. But even without that, she proved to be adept at cleaning, sorting and helping out. Hermione was very disapproving of this, so Harry gave Fizzy tasks to do when Hermione wasn’t looking. Even Mrs Weasley let her help with the cooking on occasion.

But of far more value than that to Harry was the companionship. The five painted Potters were helpful and supportive of Harry in a way he had never experienced. Their righteous anger about the Dursleys, and his many trials through his years at Hogwarts was worth more to Harry than all the gold in Gringotts.

Parental figures they were, they had of course asked to see his OWL results

“Mostly E’s,” Harry said, failing to look any of them in the eye. “I failed History of Magic and Divination”

“Divination?” Charlus said. “You took Divination?”

Henry snorted. “If they still have Binns teaching history, I’m not surprised. Divination is wasted on those who have no Sight, though.”

“Mostly E’s is a reasonable achievement, however,” Dorea said.

“I got one Outstanding,” Harry chimed in, trying to salvage the conversation.

“In Potions, obviously,’ Fleamont said. “You must take after me.”

“No, Transfiguration!” said his wife. “Clearly Harry has inherited his father’s talent, which came from me, Fleamont!”

“I thought he might have inherited Lily’s talent in Charms, perhaps?” Dorea added.

Harry cut everyone off before the argument could get out of hand. “Defense!” The painted Potters looked at him in surprise. “I got the Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The portraits quietened at that. Charlus was the one to break the silence. “Well done Harry. What were you thinking of doing after school?”

Harry shrugged. “I was considering becoming an Auror, but that won’t happen now.”

“Why?” Henry asked as he joined in the conversation.

Harry was glad that he was away from his friends then. He still had not admitted to them, even to Ron and Hermione, just how bitter a loss the E in Potions was. “I needed an Outstanding in Potions to proceed to NEWT level.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” said Fleamont. “That would make it impossible to get enough Potions Masters. You’d only get a few students each year with a NEWT in Potions. Is Slughorn still teaching Potions?”

Those words shook Harry. He opened his mouth to object then closed it once he remembered that Dumbledore hadn’t actually mentioned which subject Slughorn was teaching. But that meant if Slughorn was teaching Potions...

“Bloody Hell.”

This of course meant he had to explain to the parental painted Potters about his previous history with Snape, how Snape had been bullied by James Potter and the Marauders, how Snape had bullied and belittled Harry in turn. How Snape coveted the Defense job and had, apparently now, succeeded.

Fleamont interrupted. “If it’s the policy of the teacher, then the change may be good for you. I know Slughorn, he always appreciates talent. If you were to study Potions for the rest of summer, then you could prove to him that you deserve to be in the class in September.”

So for the rest of summer, Harry got into the habit of studying Potions with Fleamont. Each morning, he would call for Fizzy to bring him the grimoire, which he then handed off to Hermione. Molly was quite happy to let Harry use her small Potions lab off the kitchen. Hemione would divide her day between the Potions lab and the twins room where she had the grimoire, sometimes studying potions with Harry, sometimes talking to the painted Potters about the ritual ingredients. Ginny and Ron wandered in and out but neither took part in the extra Potions lessons. They occasionally dragged Harry and Hermione out to play Quidditch but even that waned after time.

About the only thing that held the interest of the younger Weasleys was the journals of James Potter, which Fizzy brought over when Harry needed a break from Potions. They were filled with detailed pranks that the Marauders had pulled over the years, and had some new and interesting spells. Until Molly caught them, the younger two Weasleys enjoyed practicing the Levicorpus spell on each other, which hoisted them up in the air by the ankle. Even with Mrs Weasleys shouting, it was a enjoyable summer break.

And the painted Potters, over the course of summer, told him about their experiences with their soulmates.

Charlus, Dorea and Henry told the story of Charlus and Dorea.

Charlus began “As you know, I did the amulet. The amulet does nothing except create a bright aura around your soulmate that only you can see and it takes several years to make. My parents had them made for us before we started Hogwarts.”

Harry supposed this made sense. Possibly if his parents had lived, he too would have worn a amulet through his years at Hogwarts as per family tradition. He wondered idly if there was any other family traditions he had missed out on.

“It wasn’t until the start of fourth year that I spotted her,” Charlus continued. “Dorea Black, a cute little first year on the Hogwarts Express, with a bright aura around her.” Dorea, now his wife smiled gently at him.

Henry snorted “I practically got dragged out of my first prefect meeting because Charlus couldn’t wait to tell me he’d seen his soulmate.”

Harry smiled at the three eldest Potters. “Was it difficult after that?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorea said. “I had been betrothed to the Nott heir a few years earlier. My father considered it quite a coup to do so.” She smiled warmly at her husband. “I’m very grateful for the way things turned out.”

“And it’s not like I could simply walk up to her and claim she was my soulmate. No other family has dabbled in such magic, so it would have sounded insane,” Charlus said. “Her family were more aligned with the Notts and wouldn’t take too well to a Potter butting in.”

“So what happened?” Harry asked  

“I wrote to my father that night,” Charlus said. “Though I didn’t know about the betrothal until a bit later, Father made it a goal to get a bit closer to the Blacks, find out background information, while I chatted with Henry and we came up with a plan.”

“He introduced himself to me, very gallantly,” Dorea said. “Kissed my hand, introduced himself to all my friends. Always asked how we were going when we met in the halls.”

“I also made it a determined goal to become a prefect,” Charlus said. “I had been an average, even indifferent student before. Now I needed a prefect badge to get closer to her”

“How would that have helped?” Harry asked. His own experiences with the prefect badge had certainly been varied, though he couldn’t see how one might help in this instance.

“It is quite common for prefects to offer tutoring to younger students,” Charlus said. “And in this way I hoped that I might be able to tutor Dorea and her friends in a couple of subjects, get to know her a little better.” He sighed, running his hand through his messy brown hair. “Of course, the fact that we were in different houses didn’t help.”

“It worked, though,” Dorea said. “My Potions marks were very poor.” She smiled at Charlus. “Charlus is the only way I passed my Potions OWL, really.”

“Dad was also on the Wizengamot,” Henry said. “He was able to have a few discussions with Sirius Black, who was your Sirius’s great grandfather and Dorea’s uncle, about different things, suggest that the Potters might be willing to support some measures they proposed.”

Harry sat back, looking at the small portrait in shock’ “He’d sell his vote in the Wizengamot to get Dorea?” The whole concept seemed alien to him.

“Once you meet your soulmate, you will understand, Harry. There’s nothing like that connection, the feeling of magic intertwined,” Charlus said. “And it wasn’t exactly selling his vote. More like a negotiating tactic, showing the Blacks that we could meet them on issues, find common ground.”

“Cantakerus didn’t make it easy for us,” Dorea said  

Charlus chuckled. “No, he did not.” His eyes looked bright as he recalled his school years. “Cantankerus Nott was very possessive over Dorea. He was a year older than me and a bit of a bully, truth be told. He warned me off Dorea, several times. But my strategy had always been to help Dorea and her friends, so Nott could never accuse me of anything untoward with Dorea specifically. I must have taken every single one of her friends to a date in Hogsmede over the years.”

“I was very jealous,” Dorea said, but the smile on her face forestall any malice.

Harry frowned. Dating his way through a entire group of friends seemed a bit much, really. Not that he had a large experience with dating. A single, aborted date with Cho hardly counted. “No one suspected anything?”

Charlus laughed. “The rumour going around for years was that I was trying to court Lycoris, her cousin, as part of a plot to get hold of some of the Black wealth. Since I was a poor second son.”

“The other rumour was that he was told very firmly to find a suitable bride, since Henry was apparently a wizard’s wizard,” Dorea said, a large smile on her face.

“A wizard’s wizard?” Harry was confused, he had never heard of the term.

“I believe the Muggles call it a confirmed bachelor,” Henry clarified. His face lacked the broad grins of his brother and sister in law but he didn’t seem terribly angry. “Harfang, one of my friends, seemed very eager to play up the stereotype, though.”

“So it was for my last few years at Hogwarts,” Charlus said. “Avoid Cantankerus Nott, spend as much time with Dorea as I could get away with, do as well in my studies as possible.” He spread his arms wide and Dorea slipped into his side easily. “Once I graduated, I powered through a Potions Mastery under my father. While I have never been as talented in Potions as my father or my son after me, I am perfectly competent in my own right.”

He grinned. “Once Dorea graduated, things came to a head. I had still spent as much time with her as possible, this time as a friend, mentor and ally. But I was always careful to create a contrast with Nott. He hadn’t completed a Mastery in anything, probably seeing it as useless and irrelevant for the position he intended to occupy as a Lord of the Wizengamot. He was loud, brash, boorish and crude. I always came bearing gifts, a subtle sign of the wealth I had at my command. My father, brother and friends were always happy to praise my skills and abilities to the heavens to any Black in earshot.”

“The necklace you got me for my 17th was impressive, even by Black standards,” Dorea said, spinning a gem on a chain around her neck. Even painted, it looked expensive.

“Nott may have committed a grave social misstep by turning up late and drunk,” Henry said. The smirk on his face suggested that Nott had had some assistance in this.

“That was also the point Charlus started making a few suggestions about breaking the betrothal. Given how annoyed I had been by Nott and jealous of all my friends who had dated Charlus, the idea had great appeal.” Dorea smiled coyly at her husband. “I suggested such to my mother, she started talking to my father.”

“Cygnus, Sirius and Dad talked about it at length. The Notts were a rich, influential family but the Potters have never been paupers. Given how little the Potter family has gone in for marriage alliances over the centuries, it was seen as a rare opportunity,” Charlus mused.

“In the end, the contract was broken. Charlus and I married the next spring, although we had kissed and sealed the bond before that,” Dorea said. “It was only after we kissed that Charlus explained the whole soulmate thing.”

“Cantankerus never quite got over it,” Henry added. “As a last minute tactic, to try and scare Dorea off Charlus, he had published the Pure-Blood Directory, which claimed that only twenty eight families were of the purest of blood and worthy of marriage. The Potters weren’t on the list.”  

“Complete tosh,” Charlus said. “The Potters have a stronger claim to pure blood than half of them. Olivander has a Muggleborn mother but they dare not offend the premier wand maker in Britain. Same with Burke, who’s only claim to pure blood is that awful shop.”

Harry felt stunned. “Mum was Muggleborn,” he said quietly.

Dorea was the first to notice the change in his demeanor. “Of course Harry, the Potters have never cared about blood,” she said. “It’s just these two idiots -“ at this she smacked both Henry and Charlus in the back of the head, “- are still annoyed over the fact that Cantankerus slandered them.”

The two men looked suitably chastised. Harry still felt a little sick. It was one thing to hear Malfoy talk about being proud of his pure blood but to hear it from his great grandfather was another.

“My point in telling you this, Harry, has been to say that the ritual may deliver your soulmate to you but you must woo the girl as well. Magic doesn’t fix everything.”

Harry felt anxious at this. How did one woo a girl, exactly? He set the photo frame down and wandered outside for a break, thinking. Who he could ask for advice about wooing when the time came?

On another day, Henry told his story, alone in the frame.

“I had an amulet, that my father made for me,” he began, “but no one shone for me, not through all my years at Hogwarts. Truth be told, until Dorea turned up, I was wondering if my father had made a error in making the amulets. Even after leaving Hogwarts, I went on a traditional grand tour of Europe and still no one had the aura of my soulmate.”

Harry felt saddened by his namesake great uncle. To have seen his father, brother, nephew all with their soulmates must have been trying for him.

“My lack of dating in Hogwarts made the rumour that I was uninterested in women a bit more true than I would have liked but it certainly proved advantageous to Charlus. And I was quite happy to help out my brother.” Henry smiled. “We’ve had a few generations of only a single heir, haven’t we? You should do something about that.”

Harry felt his face burn at the implication. “I’ve got a few other things to worry about, first. School, Dark Lord trying to kill me, lack of soulmate...” His voice trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

Henry chortled at Harry’s expression. “Don’t worry, lad. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Now after Dorea had kissed Charlus and sealed their bond, I’ll admit I was jealous. It’s not just Occulumency, you know. You receive a boost to your magic, each of you able to draw upon each other’s magic in times of need. There’s an emotional connection as well, you’re able to feel each other’s emotions, which helps over the course of the relationship.”

He sighed, running his hands through his messy brown hair. “The ritual has been rarely used in the Potter family. The amulets, since their creation, have generally proved to be effective. But after seeing Charlus bond with Dorea, I was determined to find my soulmate.”

“So, you set up for the ritual?” Harry asked. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-three, Henry said. “Young enough, I thought. I had my whole life ahead of me and only needed my soulmate to make it start as soon as possible.” He smiled, but there was no joy to it, only sadness.

The silence between the two stretched out, and Harry felt compelled to break it. “Did you need help with the ritual? I’d be lost without Hermione.”

Henry raised an eyebrow at the implication. “I was trying for a Mastery in Enchanting, so I had studied both Runes and Arithmancy. I added a few rituals to the grimoire in my time. I was perfectly competent in completing the soulmate ritual.”

Harry leaned in, eager to hear more. Henry continued. “I completed the soulmate ritual perfectly. I had planned for everything. I had asked both my mother and Dorea to be present, to avoid scaring the girl.”

He sighed and Harry realised how difficult it must be for him, to recount his failure to his great nephew. But Harry’s curiosity had to be satisfied. He had to know if the ritual could go wrong.

“We did the ritual at night, in the hopes of giving us time to work with her before dawn. There was the expected flash of light and there was a young woman in the circle. Dressed in a simple nightgown, with rings upon her left ring finger.”

“She was married?” Harry asked, shock upon his face.

“Worse,” Henry said. “The nightgown was simple enough to tell that she was with child.”

Harry felt stunned. Out of all the reasons he had thought of why Henry hadn’t completed the bond, a soulmate who was married and pregnant hadn’t occurred to him. “What did you do?”

“I was furious,” Henry said softly. “I wanted to find the husband and kill him. I wanted to hit her until the child she bore was no more.” His eyes met Harry’s own. “I did the only thing I could think of that I could live with… I ran.”

Harry leaned in, his nose almost touching the small portrait. He felt a sense of kinship with his namesake. He had spent most of the last year furious and screaming, wanting someone, anyone, to acknowledge his pain, his grief.

“Did you ever see her again?”

The question fell from his lips in a whisper and Harry felt ashamed by his question. Fortunately Henry didn’t seem concerned by his lack of tact.

“No.” Henry shook his head. “Not in the flesh. Mum and Dorea asked her a few questions, Obliviated her and transported her back home. She was a Muggle, my age. Daughter of a noble somewhere, married off to someone at her father’s insistence. Happy enough in her marriage.”

His voice broke on the last and Harry could see it in his mind’s eye. A Muggle, confused and out of place, surrounded by wizards and witches. Henry running out the door as soon as he realised that his soulmate was married to someone else.

“I never even knew her name. I… didn’t trust myself to know,” Henry whispered.

It would have been so simple for him to find her, if he had her name. All it would have taken was a moment of weakness, and her husband would be dead, her child too. Harry wasn’t sure he could have done anything different.

His mind flashed back to Bellatrix, screaming in pain after Harry used the Cruciatus Curse on her. The remnants of Dumbledore’s office after his tantrum after Sirius’ death. Yes, Harry knew how destructive anger could be.

“I never married.” Henry’s voice had recovered. “It seemed unfair to court a woman, knowing they would always be second to my soulmate. There were a few offers but none I cared to pursue. Nott’s ‘Sacred Twenty Eight’ hampered me there as well, as the Potters were now seen as less than purest blood.”

Harry supposed that made sense. Nott’s slander may have come too late to deny Dorea to Charlus but it would have hurt Henry if he’d tried to find a pureblood wife.

“I became known in the Wizengamot for my pro Muggle leanings, my outspoken support of the Muggleborns.” Henry smiled “It mattered not in the end, but I’d like to think, that if I saw her again, she’d be a little proud of me.”

Harry knew then that Henry had seen her in his dreams most nights. That he had sought to help Muggles hoping that somewhere, his soulmate might be helped as well.

Better than his dreams of Cedric, Sirius, his parents. Better to dream of a wistful past then a horrible one.

“Your soulmate will be an obsession for you either way, Harry. I hope it’s a happy one for you.”

Harry hoped so too.

Fleamont and Euphemia sat Harry down to tell of their experiences with doing the ritual.

“I had listened to Uncle Henry’s story of his soulmate and was determined not to have the same fate,” Fleamont said.

Harry thought that was wise. After hearing Henry’s rather tragic story, he’d have probably done the ritual early too.

“So it came to pass that on the Easter break in my sixth year, on my first visit home after turning seventeen, I set up the ritual at Godric’s Tor.”

“Wow,” Harry said. As soon as he’d turned seventeen! “Did you have an amulet?”

“I did and it had not triggered.” Fleamont ran his hands through his grey hair. “I had been collecting ingredients for some time, with an eye towards doing the ritual. While Potions was my greatest talent, I was proficient enough with Runes and Arithmancy to do the ritual.”

“Did your parents approve?” Harry said. He hadn’t had a lot of parental input over his childhood but he’d seen Ron and the twins get enough Howlers when McGonagall had written to the Weasleys for something Molly disapproved of.

Flemont chuckled. “No, they did not. Though I think they were sympathetic, they wanted me to hold off until after my NEWTs.” He smiled at Euphemia next to him. “I’m glad I ignored them.”

Euphemia snorted next to him. “It could have waited, really. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

A sappy smile was still on Fleamont’s face as he replied. “But then I wouldn’t have had as much time with you.”

Harry felt a moment of affection for his grandparents. They had lived long lives and were clearly still in love despite all they had been through.

“With both my parents against me doing the ritual, I did it alone. I completed the ritual, there was a flash of light and Euphemia stood before me.” Fleamont beamed at Harry. “I may have been biased, of course, but I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

Euphemia groaned and put her head in her hands. Fleamont continued. “We did encounter a slight problem, however.”

Euphemia spoke, not looking at Harry. “He couldn’t speak Greek or French.”

“And my lovely Euphemia couldn’t speak English,” Fleamont said. “I might have been able to scrape by in Dutch, since my grandmother was Dutch, but we had no luck there either.”

Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help himself. After the tumultuous experiences of the previous generation with their soulmates, a simple thing like a language barrier seemed like nothing. But it probably hadn’t been at the time.

As Harry calmed down, Fleamont went on. “I called my parents and Henry to Godric’s Tor, in the hope one of them knew a translation spell. Unfortunately, they knew none and didn’t know any common languages either.”

“I imagine they had a few words to say about you going behind their back as well,” Harry murmured  

Fleamont grinned. “Yes. Yes they did.”

“I can’t say it was the best impression of my future in laws,” Euphemia said. “Summoned by a panicky young man and him promptly being told off by his parents. Really does wonders to melt a girls heart.”

Euphemia’s dry, sarcastic tone had Harry laughing once more. He might have felt bad laughing at Fleamont’s predicament but a quick look reassured him that Fleamont was laughing as well.

“I’d been at Beauxbatons over the break. It had been quiet so I wasn’t going to be missed much. But I still was confused about how I’d ended up in England,” Euphemia said, after the laughter had settled. “The lack of someone speaking a civilized language was a minor detail, really.”

“Eventually, we got hold of Marius, Dorea’s brother,” Fleamont said. “He was a Squib but was quite willing to come and help translate to French.”

“I had heard of soulmates, of course,” Euphemia said. “To hear that this young man was my soulmate was a bit much, really. But he was courteous enough and charming enough. I agreed to let him write to me and we left it at that. A quick portkey back to France and I had to be interrogated as to where I had gone for a few days. Got detention but it seemed a fair trade.”

Harry felt a little shocked. “You didn’t try and kiss her? Seal the bond?”

“No,” Fleamont said. “Why would I? I had what I wanted, really. I had found her and she had given me permission to court her. She was only fifteen at the time.”

“We wrote back and forth for the next few months. We were suitably motivated to learn new languages after our meeting, so I would write to him in English and he would reply in French,” Euphemia said.

“I visited her over the summer in Greece,” Fleamont said. “She introduced me to her parents. Her Uncle was a Potions Master, and after a bit of persuasion, he took me on as an apprentice.”

“It made a suitable story for how we met,” Euphemia said. “Given how secretive the Potters have been about their soulmates, we needed a cover story. So according to everyone else, Fleamont wandered through Europe, found himself a Potions Master and impressed him enough to become an apprentice.”

The secrecy of a soulmate was something Harry hadn’t considered. No wonder they didn’t want him to tell Hermione. “No one else knows about soulmates?”

Fleamont shook his head. “Henry and Charlus had a Potter uncle emigrate to America. They might have passed down some knowledge. But we’ve lost contact with the American branch of the Potters, so who knows?”

Harry made a mental note to look up Potters in America at some point, but it didn’t seem like a priority. Maybe after Voldemort was defeated and he had completed his NEWTs.

“I proposed to her shortly after she turned seventeen and only then did we kiss and seal the bond," Fleamont said.

“I really just wanted the power boost for my NEWTs," Euphemia said, but the broad smile on her face suggested that she was joking.

“What kind of power boost are we talking about?” Harry asked cautiously. It sounded wonderful and useful but Harry was well aware that magic was not without its costs.

“You can access her magic and use it as your own," Fleamont explained. “Comes in useful in duels. I was quite the duelling expert but, after the bond, I could have easily gone professional. But Potions was always my first love.” At a cough from Euphemia, Fleamont added, “next to my darling Effie, of course.”

“Considering that the Dark Lord hunts you, I think any power boost would not go amiss, yes?” Effie said.

Harry nodded. Next time Voldemort came for him, he would need the power of his soulmate.

All of them told him about his parents.

“James had an amulet we had made for him," Fleamont said. “It came as a great relief, initially, to learn that he had seen his soulmate on the Hogwarts Express, in his first year.”

“I take it that was mum?” Harry asked.

Fleamont nodded. “Quite a delightful young lady. We didn’t meet her until after they bonded, which was a few years away.”

Harry frowned. He remembered Snape’s memory that he had seen earlier in the year, of Lily arguing with James. “She thought he was conceited and arrogant for the first five years.”

Fleamont and Euphemia shared a look. “I do admit, there was a few times there where we wondered if we had somehow gotten it wrong," Fleamont said. “He was so despondent that she wouldn’t date him.”

“Had she been from a wizarding family, we might have been able to negotiate a betrothal regardless," Euphemia explained. “But as a Muggleborn, she was so different from him. She wasn’t very wealthy growing up, they excelled in different subjects, they seemed to have nothing in common.”

Harry looked to the portrait. “Is that important?”

Charlus took up the tale. “A big part of being soulmates is understanding each other. Dorea and I could understand each other very well, with our similar backgrounds as pureblood magicians. Effie had plenty of experience of family members who were Potions Masters, which helped her overcome language and cultural backgrounds. Even Henry and his Muggle had similar backgrounds of working in government.”

“Should all else fail, nephew, simply kissing your way through the girls who understand you best may yield some results," Henry said.

This produced a marked reaction among the other painted Potters. Dorea put her face in her hands, Charlus punched Henry in the arm and Fleamont tried to drag his uncle out of the frame. Euphemia simply laughed. After a small scuffle, they settled down in the small frame again. This also gave Harry a moment, as he was sure his face was red.

“Kissed a lot of girls, have you?” Euphemia asked, on seeing his red face.

“One,” Harry said, thinking of his disastrous kiss and date with Cho. “And I’m very sure she wasn’t my soulmate, thank you very much.”

Fleamont nodded. “You begin to see our issue, then. The amulets have proven to be effective over hundreds of years. If not for the fact they take years to make, I would have suggested you make one for yourself.”

“Did Dad ever doubt the amulet?” Harry asked.

“Never,' Euphemia said. “That was the one thing that stopped us from assembling the ritual for him. James never doubted that Lily was his soulmate. He even took Muggle Studies as an elective - to try and understand her world better.”

 “The war was heating up in his sixth year," Fleamont explained. “Attacks on Muggles and their supporters were increasing, even places like Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley weren’t safe.”

“James buckled down, studied more. Became more protective over younger students," Euphemia said. “And it helped that Lily got rid of that toxic friend of hers.”

Briefly Harry wondered who his mum’s friend had been but was quickly caught up in the story once more.

“At some point, James got desperate and told her about the soulmate bond. It took her some time to accept it and longer to accept him as hers," Fleamont said.

“He told her?” Harry asked. “Before the kiss?”

“Before they were even dating," Euphemia said. “He had to show her the grimoire before she accepted the idea.”

“Then she got attacked in the halls at one point, spring of 1977. James was there quickly, but they were still outnumbered by a bunch of Slytherins who were trying to scare Lily off her seventh year. She was a shoo-in for Head Girl and they felt slighted," Fleamont explained.

“She was injured, disarmed. She kissed James and he took them all down," Euphemia said. “Far more dramatic than they needed to be, really.”

“Talking about first impressions, our first impression of Lily was this slip of a girl in a hospital bed," Fleamont said. “We wondered how she could support him, really.”

“You wondered, I had no doubt," Euphemia said. She winked at Harry. “He warmed up to her after learned about her skills in Potions. I think he wanted her for an apprentice.”

“We understood, in the end, that they were always soulmates," Fleamont said. “It was simply that they both had to grow and change into the people they were becoming before they could accept each other as such.”

“Although I hope your bonding with your soulmate is a lot less dramatic than your parents," Charlus said.

Harry snorted at that. “With my luck, I very much doubt it.”

Fortunately, Hermione was able to finish the materials list before their trip to Diagon Alley.

Unfortunately, there was a lot of things on it that they would not be able to find in the shops.

“Dragon’s blood, from a dragon born in the same season as you. A unicorn mane hair as wide as your spread fingers of your wand hand, which makes it… seven and one sixteenth inches," Hermione said, making notes on a sheet of parchment. “A turquoise gemstone. Black Adder venom. Honestly Harry, we’re going to need someone else to help us get hold of all this.”

Harry smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I have some people in mind.”

So it was that the Weasley family made their way to Diagon Alley. Aside from getting all the usual things for school, they were also looking forward to seeing the Weasley twins new shop. Unfortunately, they ran into a familiar face before they got to the joke shop.

“Mother, if you’re wondering what the smell is, a Mudblood just walked in,” Draco said, as he was being fitted for robes by Madam Malkin. Ron went for his wand, to the protests of a whispering Hermione, but Harry responded accordingly.

“That Mudblood helped put your father in Azkaban, Malfoy. I’d be careful around her,” Harry retorted.

Draco sneered but Harry caught a glimpse of ink on his left arm as Malkin moved his sleeve. Had Malfoy taken the Dark Mark?

“Do you suckle her at night, reminding of your own Mudblood mother?” Draco shot back.

Judging from the pale faces of Narcissa Malfoy and Madam Malkin, Draco’s last jibe went beyond the limits of polite society, even for him. But Harry slipped his wand into his hand, ready for anything Malfoy might try.

“Considering that my Mudblood mother killed your precious Dark Lord, Muggleborn witches must have you pissing your pants in fear, Malfoy,” Harry argued back.

“Enough,” Narcissa Malfoy said. “Draco, we are leaving. Perhaps Twilfit and Tatting’s will be up to our discerning standards.”

Dumping the robes on the floor, Draco followed his mother out. Of course, Malkin then had to deal with the discarded clothes and spent the whole visit muttering about hot headed teens and arrogant aristocrats before pushing Harry, Ron and Hermione out the door with robes in hand.

The Weasley parents had collected their books, and they finally found Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George’s shop was packed, which made for a marked contrast to the rest of the Alley. Hordes of children dragged their parents about, and the shop was a riot of colour and noise.

Of course, with Harry there, it only got worse.

“Harry, good to see you,” Fred said, shaking Harry by the hand vigorously. Everyone in the packed store quietened to see Harry shaking the hand of one of the store owners but then the whispers and murmurs followed them around. Fred led Harry on a brief tour, pointing out several items he’d seen before and a few he hadn’t.

Fred dragged Harry into the back to show him his range of Shield Hats and Harry took his chance. “Can you grab George? Got something to discuss with you.”

Fred ducked out quickly and came back with his twin.

“Harry! What’s up?”

Harry took a deep breath. “You know, we never discussed whether that money was a start up loan or an investment. Given I wasn’t in the best place mentally for most of last year with everything, I kind of let it slide.”

The twins nodded.

“We should have asked, anyway,” George said.

“I’ve never had your flair for pranks or tricks but this summer has proved to me that I have something you need," Harry said. “Resources.”

Fred looked at Harry with a questioning look on his face. “We’re pretty good for gold, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “I’m not talking about gold, boys.” With a quiet whisper, he summoned Fizzy.

Who came, as planned, with copies of all his father’s journals.

“The pranking journals of Prongs, boys," Harry said, watching the expression on their faces. “I think they would be worthwhile money makers in your hands and make our investment even richer.” He gestured towards his house elf. “And I’m sure Fizzy here has more than a few memories of her own.”

“Deal," Fred said, not even bothering to look at his twin. “What’s the catch?”

Harry took the ingredients list out of his pocket, passing it to George. “Instead of coin in return, I need some ingredients for a family ritual. Can you get them for me?”

“For the war?” George asked, looking through the list with wide eyes

Harry waved his hand. “Possible war benefits. A family tradition of sorts. Needs to be secret. Call Fizzy to bring them to me. Sooner is better.” He swallowed, hoping the twins would agree.

The twins looked at each other. "Deal," they proclaimed in a single voice.

Harry ended up shaking hands with both twins at once, pleased with himself. Things were looking up.

Chapter Text

The First of September dawned a sunny day, still not willing to let go of the last vestiges of summer. Harry was up early, excited to go back to Hogwarts. He and Hermione had spent the last few weeks of summer pouring over the Potter grimoire and he was amazed by what he had found there. Mostly potions, since he had apparently had a long line of distinguished Potion masters, but there were a few spells as well. He was eager to get back to Hogwarts to try them out. He had also read through a few of the family books on Potions and packed a few more of them to take with him. He was determined that if he was to get a second chance at a Potions NEWT, he wasn’t going to waste it.

Ron didn’t share his enthusiasm. The red head was quite blasé about the chance to get a Potions Newt, simply shrugging and saying that things would work out. He had also refused Harry’s offer to share information from the grimoire, firmly stating that it was Harry’s alone.

Harry had mentioned his suspicions of Malfoy taking the Dark Mark to Tonks and Moody. Both conceded it was possible but neither were willing to arrest Draco on Harry’s suspicion alone. Moody used it as an example of why constant vigilance was needed and promised to discuss it with Dumbledore. If anything came of that before the end of summer, Harry didn’t know.

Harry had quietly asked Fizzy to pack his trunk for him, at a point where both Ron and Hermione wouldn’t see, as he knew neither would approve. As a result, he was the first one ready to go, with Hermione soon joining him waiting by the door. By agreement, they held off from reading the grimoire on the journey to the train, with Harry reading his Advanced Potion making and Hermione reading a tome on ancient Runes. Ginny was the next one ready, beating her brother down the stairs by twenty minutes and Ron only came after repeated threats from his mother.

Harry was not surprised to see the ministry cars waiting to take them to the station with a few Aurors in tow. As far as the Ministry was concerned, Harry was a target and needed to be made safe. Piling into one of the two Ministry Cars with Ron, he settled back for a peaceful ride to London.

“So are you and Hermione dating?”

The blunt question out of nowhere had Harry coughing and choking. “No. What do you mean?”

Ron shrugged “You and her have been getting pretty cosy this summer. Working on those books and all. You’ve never done this much study over summer. I can hardly find time for a chess game with you in these last few weeks. Plus you’ve shown her your new house…”

He trailed off and Harry felt a flush of shame and guilt. “I would have dragged you along too but your mum was upset over the whole thing.”

Ron nodded. “I still think it’s weird letting her read through your family grimoire though. They’re so secret I’ve never even seen ours”

Harry felt a rush of indignation. “When Voldemort kills me, it won’t matter that I’ve let Hermione read it. But letting Hermione read it might help me survive next time he comes for me.”

Ron squirmed, looking guilty. Harry tried a different tack. “Under normal circumstances, how could a Muggleborn access a family grimoire?”

Ron shrugged. “Either they marry into a family or start their own.”

“So they don’t," Harry said, trying to make his friend see sense. “It’s just another way where Hermione is behind all the purebloods. But she’s smarter than all of them, so if I can get her help with this, I can help her with what she wants to do.”

Ron looked shocked. “You can’t mean her stupid SPEW! You own a house elf now.”

“Two actually,” Harry replied, for the first time thinking of Kreacher, who was working at Hogwarts. “And I’m not going to say she’s completely wrong. There are a lot of mistreated house elves out there. But if Hermione wants to try and help them, so much the better. I’d free Kreacher if I could.”

Ron wrinkled up his nose. “Why can’t you? I can’t say he’s the best elf.”

Harry grimaced. “Dumbledore thinks he’d just run off to the Malfoys and spill all my secrets. But me and Fizzy? That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think. She helps me and I help her as well. We’re friends.”

Ron still looked as if he was struggling with the idea and Harry decided to move on. “You’ll help me organise Quidditch this year, yeah?”

Ron brightened at the thought. “Yeah! Do you think we’ll be able to get together a good team?”

Harry nodded. “We’ve got you as Keeper and me as Seeker. Ginny mentioned going for a Chaser role, to replace one of the girls. We’ve still got Katie this year, so we need one more Chaser. If those two from last year can pull up as Beaters again, we should have an solid team.” He looked out the window wistfully. “It was so good to fly again this summer. I missed it last year.”

Ron looked regretful. “If I pass tryouts. We definitely want to see if we can find better Beaters than Kirke and Sloper.”

“You’ll be fine,” Harry said. “You and Ginny spent most of summer on the brooms.” Harry considered his next question carefully. “What will you do for a career if you can’t get into Potions?”

Ron shrugged. “There are other options than being an Auror. Magical Law enforcement and ask for a transfer to watch your back if you get in, maybe.”

Harry felt a little touched by his friend’s concern. “Are you sure you don’t want to do something different? Something for yourself?”

Ron shook his head. “You’re my best friend. You saved me, saved Ginny, saved Dad. But I know you. You won’t trust just anybody at your back and for good reason. If we can do Potions this year, great. We stick to the original plan to be Aurors together. If not, we adapt from there.”

They pulled up to Kings Cross Station at that moment and a bearded Auror quickly took charge of Harry, ushering him and Ron to the station entrance. Harry didn’t even get to push his own luggage trolley as the four Aurors marched Harry, Hermione and the two youngest Weasleys to Platform nine and three quarters. The pushing didn’t stop there, as the quartet of students were promptly escorted onto the train. Even Mrs Weasley seemed intimidated, settling for a brief goodbye rather than a drawn-out hug, for which Harry was sure Ron was grateful.

As the train pulled out of the station, Ginny declared she had to find Dean and left, dragging her trunk behind her. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, but they apologetically reminded him that they had prefect duties and left for the prefects' compartment.

Harry was suddenly alone. It was a bit disconcerting, considering that he had had someone around him since leaving the Dursleys, even if it was only a portrait. But with Ginny running off to find Dean and Hermione and Ron off to handle prefect duties, Harry had to deal with the whispers and stares by himself. Certainly, there seemed to be a lot of girls looking at him, so Harry grabbed his trunk and headed further down the train.

Harry was used to being looked at, stared at and whispered about, but things seem to have gone to a whole new level. Students crowded windows to look at him shambling past. Tiny first years stared up at him in amazement and shrank back from him in the corridor. Finally, he found an empty compartment and put his trunk in the racks. He pulled out his grandfather’s book on Potions, hoping that people might ignore him if he was reading.

A knock from the door told him he was wrong. What he hadn’t expected was for an unfamiliar girl to open the door, stumble in and end up flat on the floor

“Bugger,” a familiar voice mumbled from the floor

“Tonks?” Harry said, hurrying to help the girl up. Once he knew what to look for, he could spot the semi-familiar features of Tonks in disguise. He helped her up and turned back to the door to find that Tonks hadn’t come alone. Susan Bones stood in the doorway, looking a little amused at the scene before her.

Harry quickly realised why Tonks was here. “Bodyguard duties, Tonks?”

Tonks glared at him and Susan sat down opposite them, looking back and forth between them. “You know each other?”

Harry nodded. “Spent some time hanging out with her over the summer. Plus, she was one of the people who came to save our butts at the Ministry fiasco.”

Tonks snorted at that. “You mean I ran in and got stunned by my bat crazy aunt.”

Harry waved her objection away. “You got Malfoy off my back first. That was a big help.”

Susan cut in before Tonks could object. “My aunt was complaining about that for ages. Two of her best Aurors secretly part of Dumbledore’s spy group. Not to mentions, Kingsley wasting everyone’s time by reporting sightings of Sirius Black all over the globe.” Her mouth turned down at the mention of Sirius.

Harry remembered his conversation with Dumbledore from earlier in the summer. They had discussed Amelia Bones’ death, but Harry hadn’t thought about her family. “I’m sorry about your aunt, Susan.”

Susan looked at him and Harry could see the tears in her eyes. She nodded and Harry was happy to leave it at that. He had been the recipient of many condolences in his time, he knew what it felt like.

The thought occurred to him that of everyone at Hogwarts, Susan possibly came pretty close to understanding him. Both of them had lost their parents at a young age. Both of them were now orphaned again, him having lost Sirius and Susan losing her aunt.

And his grandfather had said that understanding was a big part of being a soulmate. Discreetly he checked Susan out. Decent looking, her red hair done in a plait down her back. He figured he’d put her at the top of the list if Henry’s plan of kiss every girl in school until he found the right one needed to come into play.

Tonks broke the silence. “I was just telling Bones stories about her aunt. Trying to cheer her up a bit.”

Susan nodded sadly. “She had always seen me off to Hogwarts every year. I was just upset about this year.”

Harry nodded. Soulmate or not, it wouldn’t hurt to try and build a bit of a friendship with her. “Sirius only got to see me off last year. It was nice while it lasted.”

Susan looked horrified. “He saw you off last year? How? The entire bloody country was looking for him!"

Harry shared a small smile with Tonks. “He was an unregistered Animagus. A big black Grimm.”

Susan collapsed in laughter. When she finally regained her composure, she gasped out. “He licked Auntie’s face! Big black dog, running around the platform, jumped up and licked her face. She complained about it to me in a letter, asked which of the Weasley’s owned the unruly black dog!”

Harry felt cheered by the fact that Sirius had played a prank on Amelia Bones. “Sounds like him. He enjoyed playing pranks, I suppose seeing your aunt was too much temptation for him.”

“The twins said he belonged to their older brother Bill," Susan said. “Said that their dad was just taking him for a walk to the station.”

There was another knock on the door and Ron, Hermione and Hannah Abbot walked in. Tonks flicked her hair back to pink momentarily and Hermione’s eyes lit up in recognition. Ron caught on quickly enough but Hannah Abbot simply looked confused.

“What are we talking about?” Hermoine said with an odd tone to her voice.

“Sirius playing a prank on Amelia Bones last year,” Harry said. “How was the prefect meeting?”

“Okay,” Hermione replied. “We have last patrol, making sure everyone gets off the train alright. But we’re free until then.” Harry was unsure if we included Hannah but since the Hufflepuff girl didn’t comment, Harry didn’t ask.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Harry," Neville said at the door. “I’ve got a note for you.”

Harry opened it to find an invitation to lunch, penned by Horace Slughorn. He felt nervous, as he’d been hoping to put off his next confrontation with the former Head of Slytherin until tomorrow. He got up to leave and Tonks got up to follow him.

“I can’t go in there with a bodyguard, Tonks. This is ridiculous as it is," Harry groaned.

“Sorry squirt, I don’t write my orders. You’re to be protected from possible Death Eater attacks," Tonks said.

Given that he’d argued that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark, Harry didn’t see how he could argue with that. “Fine,” he conceded, pulling out his cloak. “But you can hide under this.”

Tonks settled the cloak over her and put her invisible hand on Harry’s shoulder. Ignoring the wide eyed expression of Susan and Hannah, he followed Neville out the door, although the unseen hand on his shoulder jerked as Tonks tripped over the door frame.

People moved aside as he and Neville walked the corridor, either in awe or fear. Harry suddenly found himself missing the days when he could just curl up in a compartment for the whole trip to school. He had thought then that nothing could be worse than the fame of being the Boy Who Lived. Now he was the Chosen One.

Neville led him to a dining car he had never been in before and Harry entered after a quick knock. Neville came in behind him, keeping the door open enough to make sure Tonks would pass unseen and unheeded.

In the dining car, like a king holding court, sat Slughorn. Harry was mildly surprised to see that his collection of photographs had been displayed behind him for the relatively short train trip. Around the table sat a collection of students and, true to his word that he didn’t favour Slytherins alone, they were of a range of houses and ages. Harry was surprised to see Ginny Weasley sitting about halfway down the table and made for her familiar face. Tonks’ hand dropped off his shoulder but Harry wasn’t concerned. Hopefully Tonks could stay concealed until Hogsmeade.

“Harry!” Slughorn boomed, turning from speaking to Cormac Mclaggan. “Pleasure to see you, m’boy.”

Harry forced himself to smile and shook Slughorn’s offered hand. He reminded himself he needed a favour off Slughorn as he took the seat next to Ginny. Neville slid in on Ginny’s other side, after also shaking Slughorn’s hand.

“We met briefly over the summer, Harry, but that didn’t give me much chance to learn about you. There’s been so many rumours about you, it’s hard to separate fact from fiction," Slughorn said.

Harry considered the room for a moment. Aside from Ginny, himself and Neville, Cormac McLaggen was the only other Gryffindor. Blaise Zabini and another seventh year were from Slytherin. Rounding out the room were a couple of younger students, maybe fourth or fifth years, from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. No known Death Eaters, but of course that meant nothing.

“I’ll trade you, Professor," Harry said. “I have three questions about this year, so I’ll let you ask three questions of me. I’ll answer them as truthfully as I can but I may refuse if I must.”

Slughorn laughed, to the shocked expressions on the other student’s faces. “Ask away, m’boy. I’ll think for a moment on my questions.”

“Are you the Potions professor for this year?” Harry blurted out.

The dining car fell silent and even Slughorn stopped laughing, looking at Harry approvingly. “Yes, Harry. I was once the Potions professor and I will be again this year.”

Harry nodded, accepting the first answer as a given. He hadn’t heard anything from his grandfather about Slughorn being any kind of Defense expert, so it was almost certain. “Will you accept Exceeds Expectations OWL grade students?”

A predatory smile slowly spread across his face as Slughorn replied. “Didn’t quite manage the Outstanding grade, did we? Yes, I’ll take Exceeds Expectations students.”

Harry felt a bit like a fly being descended upon by a hungry spider as Slughorn watched him with that smile. His third question would have been about a special admittance test, but since it was no longer needed, he asked about his other big concern. “Is Snape moving to Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

Slughorn nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Severus always was a talented man. There’s not a lot of teachers who could easily jump between subjects like this.”

Harry leaned back, feeling like he could breathe easily for the first time in months. Snape as the Defence professor was going to be a pain but he couldn’t deny Harry entrance to the class with his Outstanding grade.

He picked up a bottle of butterbeer and opened it. It was time to pay Slughorn back in turn. The first question was one he was expecting.

“Was there really a prophecy about you?”

Harry considered his response, taking a swig of butterbeer in the process. Trying to remember what was publicly known, he said carefully. “There was, recorded in the Department of Mysteries. I know it was about me and Voldemort and it was smashed in the fight, so we never got to hear it. As far as I know, Voldemort doesn’t know the prophecy either.”

Slughorn sighed, obviously hoping for more details from the skirmish at the Ministry. Harry just hoped he wouldn’t ask questions of Ginny or Neville. Ginny had covered his hand with her own, offering him what little comfort she could. The other students were silent, eagerly listening.

“What do you hope to do when you graduate, Harry?” Slughorn asked, who looked as though he was racking his brain for a question.

“An Auror,” Harry said simply. “I’ve got a Dark Lord after me, so training with the Dark Wizard hunters is probably my best chance of long term survival.”

That led to a few surprised looks around the table. Harry supposed that some people might have thought professional Quidditch for his career, or some other lofty dreams like being Minister for Magic. To have all his dreams reduced to mere survival was a poor future, but it was the best he could have at the moment. Slughorn seemed saddened by his answer.

“And is there any truth,” Slughorn began for his last question, "to the rumour that Cornielius Fudge offered to return the Potter seat on the Wizengamot to keep himself in office?”

Harry frowned. He most certainly hadn’t been offered any kind of seat on the Wizengamot in return for supporting Fudge. Although if he had…

“I can honestly say I have had no contact with Fudge since the night Voldemort was exposed,” Harry said. Not since the night Sirius died. “But if the offer had been made, I still would have refused.”

“Why?” This came from the unnamed seventh year Slytherin. “A hereditary seat on the Wizengamot? Most people would trade a fortune for the honour.”

“Because Fudge had to go,” Harry said. “If Fudge had listened to me years ago, Sirius Black could have been freed. Peter Pettigrew, the true betrayer, could have been captured. Even last year, when Voldemort returned, Fudge had Barty Crouch Junior kissed rather than accept Voldemort’s return. Everything Umbridge did last year at Hogwarts can be laid at his feet. To say nothing of the trumped-up charges to get me expelled from Hogwarts last summer.”

Harry was breathing heavily at the end of his rant and the car was so silent that Harry thought he could hear the rustle of Tonks hiding under his Cloak.

“I’m confused," the younger Hufflepuff said. “If the Potters had a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, how did they lose it?”

Slughorn brightened, perhaps eager to turn the conversation to lighter topics. “How much do you know of the Wizengamot, Tristan?”

Tristan the Hufflepuff shrugged. “They pass laws and act as a jury in formal criminal trials.”

Harry wanted to jibe about them being scary old people but Ginny’s hand tightened on his. Maybe she wanted to listen, so Harry obliged her.

“The Wizengamot,” Slughorn began, “is always composed of forty-nine individuals. There are four ways to gain a seat on the Wizengamot. The first is a temporary term, which could last for a single session or might be until a more permanent appointment can be made. They are done by the Minister alone and are usually figures like the Senior Undersecretary or a Department Head.”

Harry wondered if that was how Dolores Umbridge got her voice on the Wizengamot. From the sounds of it, it was likely.

“The second way is a term limited appointment,” Slughorn said. “This method of appointment has to be approved by the Department Heads and expires when the Ministerial term is up. Generally, a new Minister uses such appointments to put a few supporters on the Wizengamot, who help steer the government’s legislation through.”

Slughorn took a drink from the glass in front of him and Harry used the distraction to have a bite of the lunch prepared. It was some kind of bird, slightly spicy, but tasted delicious. He wondered if he should offer some to Tonks but it would kind of defeat the purpose of her hiding as his bodyguard.

“Thirdly," Slughorn continued, “is what is termed a life appointment. Holders of an Order of Merlin First Class are usually offered a seat as such, like our very own Albus Dumbledore. It is also customary for a Minister to offer his or her predecessor a seat like this, although I haven’t heard of Cornelius Fudge being offered one yet. He may decline, not everyone accepts one.”

“Lastly,” Slughorn looked around at the students, smiling at their consideration, "we have hereditary seats. A few people here are related to those who hold seats, or in the case of Neville Longbottom here, will inherit them in due course.”

Neville snorted, appearing amused by Slughorn’s comments. “Gran currently holds the Longbottom seat. While she agreed to cede it to me once I have a Mastery in something, I suspect she will hold it until she dies and, even if she does, she might still hold it as a ghost.”

Slughorn laughed at Neville’s comment. “If I remember Augusta rightly, she might at that.” He looked over to Tristan. “Now we come to a curious piece of history. Only once has a hereditary seat been resigned.” He gestured to Harry. “Fleamont Potter, Harry’s grandfather was one of the best experimental Potioneers the world has ever seen. But he never cared for the Wizengamot and he always felt lacking compared to his uncle Henry, who was a great orator and statesman, so much so he was known as the Minister in Waiting." Slughorn took a drink, then kept talking. Harry suspected he was delighted to be the center of attention. “So when it seemed as if Fleamont would be the last Potter, he chose to resign the seat, rather than let it fall to someone at random. This was during You-Know-Who’s first rise to power and there were few people who seemed trustworthy to hold such a seat. Fleamont put his faith in the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartimus Crouch Senior.”

Harry leaned in, listening intently. His conversations with the painted Potters hadn’t covered this.

“Since Crouch was a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight, a law to resign Fleamont from the hereditary seat and appoint Crouch in his place was met with wide approval. He handed it over and bid the Wizengamot a fond farewell. Barty had both a son and a brother, so it seemed as if the succession to the seat was secure.”

Harry knew that Barty Junior had been the last of his line when he had been kissed after the third task, so the brother mustn’t have survived either.

“Of course, since Fleamont now had more time to spend with his dear wife, she fell pregnant with a son, James. Something for which Harry is grateful, I am sure,” Slughorn said with a less than subtle wink.

“How do the Sacred Twenty Eight factor into the hereditary seats?” This was from the Ravenclaw girl.

“No one is sure who published the Pure Blood Directory,” Slughorn answered. “But there are twenty-eight hereditary seats on the Wizengamot. They were granted to those families for supreme acts of magic in service to the realm.” He lifted his glass in the direction of Neville. “I believe Neville Longbottom here had a family who went into battle against a rampaging Hebridean Black, subsequently slaying the beast and preserving the Statute of Secrecy at great cost.”

Neville nodded. “Every Yule, we sing a saga about it, The Dragon Hunt. I’ve almost got it memorised.”

Given Neville’s notoriously bad memory, Harry considered that quite an achievement.

“The Sacred Twenty Eight have never corresponded to the twenty eight hereditary seats. The Ollivander family for example, has never sought anything to do with the Wizengamot and has never held any seat, temporary or hereditary,” Slughorn said.

Harry was tempted to interject with his own findings about the so called Sacred Twenty Eight but he was enjoying listening for a time. Besides, the food was quite delicious.

“The theory purported by the Pure Blood Directory was that only those of the purest of blood were deserving of the hereditary seats, rather than those they had been gifted to originally. As you can imagine, this created quite a stir among the Wizengamot. Both Weasley and Longbottom denounced the idea, along with their inclusion in the Sacred Twenty Eight. But even now, there are still a few who will argue for the heads of the Sacred Twenty Eight houses to hold the hereditary seats, or as much as could be done.”

A clock chimed, and Slughorn checked it against his watch. “Dear me. I’m afraid this luncheon has run longer than I thought it would. You had all better go get changed, we’ll be arriving at Hogsmeade soon.”

The other students got up to leave, and Harry waited to be the last out, to make sure he collected Tonks with his cloak before he hurried back to his compartment to change.

He found his compartment with ease and retrieved his cloak from Tonks. He quickly changed as he felt the train slowing. By the time the train stopped, Harry was ready to go.

Harry joined with Ron and Hermione again as they headed towards the carriages. Harry gave a brief wave in Hagrid’s direction, as he always did, but the giant of a man was too busy corralling first years to notice. Finding a carriage, Harry jumped up into it, his friends beside him. Tonks was obviously keeping close to him, because she came up after them, with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot following her.

Harry could feel Hermione staring intently at him, wanting answers about something, either his sudden interest in Susan Bones or his time spent with Slughorn. But Harry wasn’t willing to discuss either in front of everyone else, so Hermione would have to go unsatisfied. Instead, he made small talk, discussing OWL results and summer vacations. Tonks soon started telling them about the time she organised a Hogwarts trivia contest which had the whole carriage laughing.

Soon they were dismounting from the carriages and filing into the Great Hall. Tonks ducked away to change into Auror robes and, in the Hall itself, the Hufflepuff duo split off from the Gryffindor trio. No sooner had they taken a seat then Hermione was asking Harry. “Why were you talking with Susan?”

Harry shrugged. “I offered her my condolences about her aunt and we talked from there.” He wasn’t about to mention to Hermione the possibility of having Susan as a soulmate, not while everyone could hear.

Hermione seemed a little surprised by his answer or perhaps she hadn’t thought of it. Perhaps she felt guilty over her own lack of remarks over the death of Amelia Bones. Fortunately, Lavender distracted her by asking about her OWL results.

All around the table, people were catching up from the summer. Harry had sat with his back to the wall, giving him a view across the room. He spotted Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table, not talking to either of his bodyguards. He saw Luna sitting at the Ravenclaw table, talking to Padma Patil, who had the familiar 'talking to Luna' glassy eyed look. He caught Susan’s eye at the Hufflepuff table and gave her a small smile. Hannah, next to her, immediately caught sight of this and started talking to her. Harry felt anxious then, hoping he hadn’t made any issues for her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the doors opening, as McGonagall led the first years from the hall. The crowd of tiny people looked around them in wonder. Harry felt a stab of regret as he realised five years had passed since his own sorting. Where had the time gone? He felt old and he was only sixteen.

The Hat’s song was similar to the one from last year, advising them all to unite and work together, or Hogwarts would fall. Like last year, it was met with various comments of derision but everyone quieted as McGonagall started reading out the names of the first years.

Harry clapped mechanically as new students joined Gryffindor, his mind elsewhere. He could see both Slughorn and Snape up on the teachers table, so he was correct with the information gleaned from the train ride. Dumbledore, for some reason was avoiding clapping, simply nodding as each new student was sorted.

Finally when the last new student went to Ravenclaw, Dumbledore declared the beginning of the feast. Immediately the tables filled with a start of term feast and everyone began talking. Harry ignored most of them, preferring to eat, since he hadn’t actually had that much to eat at Slughorn’s luncheon.

“Harry, did you find out about Slughorn?”

Ron’s question, however, deserved an answer. Harry swallowed a mouthful of roast pork before nodding. “Yes, we should be good to join Potions. Defence is going to be annoying, though.”

Ron caught the implication, perhaps understanding that Harry was reluctant to give out staffing information before Dumbledore. He groaned though. “Well that’s good. I guess I should have listened when you told me to buy the book for it. Can I borrow Hedwig to send a note to Mum after the feast? I don’t trust Pig to be able to carry a book back.”

Hermione just looked at Ron with an expression of mild frustration. Considering it was the same expression she wore when he refused to study extra, was too loud, had upset her with some inane comment or asked her to check his homework five minutes before it was due, Harry was fairly certain that Ron was immune to it.

Harry, hoping for the best, had all the things he needed for his Potions class in his trunk. Including his father’s copy of Advanced Potion Making, to which Fleamont had added his own set of notes and helpful hints. It was odd to go into a year looking forward to Potions and being anxious about Defence, but that was his new reality.

“That’s fine,” Harry said, wondering if he should offer Fizzy’s services instead. Maybe the twins might be able to buy the book and assorted equipment to get to Ron before the first class.  But Fizzy’s existence was best kept a secret, so no one knew he had reclaimed Godric’s Tor.

After the deserts had cleared, Dumbledore stood and gave the usual announcements. Some shock ran through the room at the sight of Dumbledore’s injured hand. The sight of it troubled Harry, who alone of the students knew that the curse had been caused weeks before, just after the end of the previous term. He hadn’t thought to mention it to Ron or Hermione, since it was such an inconsequential detail. But if it hadn’t healed, then perhaps it wasn’t.

Dumbledore announced the fact that Professor Slughorn would be taking over Potions, and Snape moving to Defence Against the Dark Arts. The Slytherin table erupted into applause at this, which Snape acknowledged with a half wave. Harry felt a little sick in his stomach. Defence had always been his best subject, even with Umbridge. Now Snape would be there, taking points and assigning detentions to him for breathing too loudly and aggressively being Harry Potter.

Hopefully the curse would get him. Harry didn’t want to deal with Snape as Defence professor for the next two years.

The last announcement, that Filch had put a blanket ban on everything from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, put a small smile on Harry’s face. Some things never changed.

Chapter Text

The morning of the second of September found Harry with the rest of the Gryffindors at the breakfast table. Hermione was still acting a little cool towards him, but Harry wondered if she was perhaps a bit affronted that Slughorn hadn’t invited her to the Luncheon on the train. To be fair, he had no idea what prompted an invite, although he had noted to her that no other prefects were invited either.

Unlike the previous years, Professor McGonagall left the sixth years until last when handing out timetables. The reason why was soon discovered, as she was checking the assigned classes against a list of OWL results. Harry noticed Hermione deliberately positioned herself at the end of the group and went and sat near her. Harry was a little concerned. Usually for timetables, Hermione was first in line and had taken his and Ron’s as well.

“Miss Granger, seeking to complete Charms, Defence, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Runes and Potions. No issues there at all.” McGonagall gave Hermione a rare smile. “Well done on your OWLs, you made me very proud.”

Hermione smiled back at her. “Thank you, Professor.” She started making notes in her planner.

“Potter…Yes, Defence, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology. Well done on your Transfigurations mark, Potter, I was very pleased. You were actually quite close to getting an Outstanding,” McGonagall continued.

“Can I add Potions back in, Professor?” Harry cut in. “Professor Slughorn said he would accept E students.”

“Certainly,” McGonagall said. “Mr Weasley has done the same. I have had a few people put names down for Quidditch tryouts, I will pass the list along next time I see you.”

A strange buzzing noise surrounded the three of them. Just as Harry identified it as the Muffito charm from his father’s prank journals, Hermione spoke up. “Professor, can I make a request?”

Harry turned to look at her, confused. Hermione simply sat there looking at McGonagall.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” If McGonagall was perturbed by the privacy charm surrounding them, she made no sign.

“I have a side project that will cover some of my work in Arithmancy and Runes. The set up for it is quite extensive, so I need an area where we won’t be interrupted. Do you know of a classroom I could lock and keep the key for?” Hermione asked calmly.

Harry looked at Hermione surprised. He thought they might do the ritual at Christmas break at Godric’s Tor but Hermione had other plans. If it helped him find his soulmate sooner, Harry was all for it.

“The Headmaster is not fond of students doing rituals in Hogwarts,” McGonagall began. “Particularly unproven ones.”

“It’s been proven well enough,” Harry said. “My family has done it twice in the last century.”

McGonagall looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “And will there be any danger to yourselves or other students?”

Harry swallowed. He tended to forget over the summers how intimidating McGonagall could be. Voldemort could take a few lessons from her, really. “No.”

McGonagall eyed both of them carefully. “I will consider which classroom might be made available for your use. You will both be held responsible for any damage which might be incurred. You will not be able to use the Hogwarts house elves to clean the room, it will be your responsibility. And once you are done, I expect the room to be restored to its original condition.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “and if I find that you two are pursuing non-academic activities in the room, you will have detention for a month.”

Harry looked at her confused. “What non-academic activities do you mean?” He already got enough detentions off Snape, he didn’t want to add to it.

Hermione made a small choking noise and Harry looked over to see her holding a hand over her mouth, blushing bright red. With a strangled noise, Hermione managed to gasp out. “Understood, Professor.”

“Quite.” With a wave of her hand, she dispelled the privacy charm and walked out of the almost empty Great Hall.

Hermione was no longer able to hold back her laughter, which attracted a few looks from other tables. Once she had calmed down, she surprised him by giving him a hug. “Oh, Harry.”

By this point, Harry had belatedly realised just which non-academic activities McGonagall was referring to and could feel the heat coming off his own face. Hermione seemed to realise just how embarrassed he was and left to go to Arithmancy.

Harry left to go find Ron. Girls were confusing sometimes. How exactly was he supposed to understand one?

After dinner, McGonagall gave Harry a key to the closest classroom to Gryffindor Tower and the list of aspiring Quidditch players. Harry and Ron had booked the pitch for Quidditch tryouts for the Saturday week, the better to settle on his team quickly. After putting up a notice on the common room notice board, he and Hermione ducked out to check the classroom.

“We’ll need to move all this somewhere else,” Hermione said, looking over the collection of broken tables that were scattered around the room. “And I will need to give the room a good clean before we can even start.”

Harry nodded. “Professor McGonagall said we couldn’t use any of the Hogwarts house elves to clean, right?”

Hermione looked at him, but Harry had already put his plan in action. “Fizzy!”

A pop signalled the arrival of his favourite house elf, “Master Harry called?”

Harry waved to the chaos of the classroom. “This room needs to be cleaned and maintained. Would you care to help us with it?”

Fizzy squealed in delight and immediately started popping the broken desks away. Harry started scorgifying the ground to get the dust away and, after a moment, Hermione joined him.

“This does not mean I approve of using house elves, you know,” Hermione grumbled to him.

“It’s one room," Harry said. “We’ll need to ward it away from everyone else anyway, so it means we can actually talk with Fizzy in here. I doubt she’d be comfortable watching us work on cleaning this place while she sat down.”

“Master Harry is correct,” Fizzy said with a smile, as she popped in to take another desk away.

Between the three of them, they had the room in order quickly, leaving only a couple of small armchairs and a low table with a wide open space. Harry might have argued for keeping a single couch rather than two armchairs but his memory was fresh with the embarrassment of McGonagall talking about non-academic activities.

Hermione added a privacy ward to the door and a Notice-Me-Not charm. “Should we add Ron into the ward?”

Harry shook his head. “At the moment, I’d hate for us to get so caught up in this that we spend all our time in here. If all three of us disappear for hours on end, people will know something is going on. Keep it to just the two of us and we can always add Ron in later.”

While Hermione planned out where the ritual circles would sit, Harry filled her in about his thoughts on Susan Bones as a potential soulmate. To his surprise, Hermione was accepting of the idea.

“You’re applying logic to the wizarding world, Harry, it doesn’t always work like that. It’s not a bad idea, although I can’t think you would want to kiss all the girls in school.”

“No, certainly not,” Harry said. The very thought filled him with disgust. “But I might keep a short list of potential candidates. If we get stuck, taking a few of the girls on dates might yield a result.” He frowned. “If I can persuade them to go out on a date.”

“Oh Harry.” Hermione smiled at him. “Now that you’ve been cleared of being an attention seeking liar, you have never been more attractive to the girls of Hogwarts. Your scars are now badges of honour and you’ve never been more fanciable.” She blushed a little at the idea.

Suitably encouraged, Harry took a blank piece of parchment and stuck it to the wall. He wrote ‘Shortlist’ on the top, and then carefully wrote ‘Susan Bones’ underneath it. For a moment, he considered adding Hermione to the list, then dismissed the idea. Hermione’s soulmate would be some 'Head Boy Ravenclaw' type, who would have a reading list longer than Harry’s broomstick. Come to think of it, this year’s Head Boy was a Ravenclaw. Maybe when he had his soulmate, he might suggest it to her.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be necessary to kiss every girl in Hogwarts.

Harry’s first Potions class with Slughorn was interesting. Snape’s policy of Outstanding grades only had limited the class to only twelve people. Four Slytherins, Four Ravenclaws, and only Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff to join the three Gryffindors. Slughorn displayed a set of cauldrons filled with potions.

“Here,” Slughorn said, “are examples of Potions that you will be able to brew when you are finished your NEWT levels. Does anyone know what they are?”

Hermione’s hand was up first. “I believe that the colourless potion is Veritasium, the next potion is Polyjuice Potion, and the third is Amorentia.”

Harry, who had picked the first two potions, did not begrudge Hermione her answers. Unlike everyone else in the room, she had actually brewed one of the three.

“Well done, Miss...” Slughorn paused, waiting for Hermione to answer.

“Granger, sir. Hermione Granger,” Hermione answered politely

“Are you any relation to Hector Dagworth Granger, founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?” Slughorn looked quite hopeful at the question.

“I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggleborn.” Hermione smiled apologetically.

This seemed to excite Slughorn even more. “I believe Mister Potter was singing your praises to me over the summer. The best student in the year, I think he called you.”

Harry gave a small nod and smile, to Hermione’s embarrassment. Slughorn gave Hermione another look, then turned back to the class. “Now, I’d like to assess each of your skills, since I haven’t been your teacher. So for the rest of the lesson, I’d like you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. It is more complex than any of your OWL potions, so I do not expect a perfect potion from anyone. But for the best attempt...”

Slughorn waved his wand, and a previously disillusioned cauldron appeared. The gold-coloured potion inside seemed to jump and dance, but never spilled a drop.

“Miss Granger, could you please explain for the class what Felix Felicis is?” Slughorn asked.

“It’s liquid luck!” Hermione said excitedly. Harry tried to remember everything Fleamont had said about it but couldn’t remember if he’d mentioned it at all.

“Simple enough, Miss Granger. Felix Felicis is a potion that will ensure that all your endeavors succeed. For this reason, it is banned in competitions, exams, Quidditch matches or elections. So you can only use it on a ordinary day and watch that day become extraordinary!” Slughorn espoused to the class.

Every one of the twelve students was watching Slughorn with rapt attention. Malfoy, in particular, seemed to be watching with special interest.

“So for the best attempt at the Draught of Living Death, one vial of Felix Felicis, good for twelve hours. Page ten of your textbooks, begin!”

Harry flicked to page ten of his book and looked over the ingredients. Sopophorours bean, valerian roots, etc. He went to the store cupboard and grabbed the ingredients. Ron asked Hermione something, but Hermione brushed him off, focused on her own work.

Harry’s book had been edited by his grandfather. According to him, the valerian roots were to be cut lengthwise, not across the plant, to better expose the internal juices. The sopophorours bean was to be crushed with a silver dagger, instead of being cut. The stirring pattern had a slight variation and he had added a few drops of lavender oil to the brew, which the recipe didn’t call for but Harry thought might help.

Harry felt grateful for the lessons he had learned from his grandfather. He was even more happy to see his potion turning a pale purple, like it was supposed to. Next to him, Hermione’s potion was a slightly darker purple, whereas Ron’s potion was the colour and smell of liquorice.

Slughorn called time and started to wander the classroom. He looked over all the Ravenclaw’s Draughts, and Harry noted that they were all purple but were resolutely darker than Hermione’s attempt. He checked the Slytherin’s next and seemed particularly interested in Tracy Davis’ sky blue concoction. Finally he came to Harry’s table. He smiled a little at Ron’s blackened cauldron, nodded at Ernie’s navy potion. He looked impressed at Hermione’s purple potion. Finally he came to Harry’s cauldron and his face split in a broad grin. “We have our clear winner!”

Harry felt happy. He’d brewed a tricky potion that he’d never had to before and getting the Felix Felicius made his summer of study seem worth it. Even Hermione seemed impressed with his work, if a little disappointed.

To Harry’s surprise, Slughorn poked and prodded Harry’s potion more than he had Tracy Davis’s. He sniffed it, twirled some of it around a glass stirring rod, cast two unknown spells at it. He looked up at the class as the bell rang.

“I’m afraid I must ask you to remain for a few minutes more, because such an excellent teaching opportunity rarely comes up. Can I have all of you gather around this bench, please.?”

With a wave of his wand, he brought Tracy Davis’s cauldron over to join Harry and Hermione’s on their bench, moving Ron and Ernie’s off to his own desk.

“Here, we have three different attempts at the Draught of Living Death. Miss Granger’s potion is a very good attempt using the standard set of instructions. Every one of you had the same instructions as she did and she has produced the best result. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

He motioned to Tracy Davis’s potion. “I had the pleasure, many years ago of teaching Miss Davis’s mother, Bronwyn Broderick. I know she went into the family business and became a Potions master, achieving her Mastery in...”

At this, Slughorn proceeded to sniff Tracy’s potion again and Harry realised that she had also operated with a set of inherited, altered instructions like himself.

“Spain, I think,” Slughorn finished. “I would wager that Miss Davis’s mother made some adjustments to the recipe. An excellent attempt regardless, Miss Davis, five points to Slytherin. Do you know where you went wrong?”

“The colour seemed to go off when I added the powdered root of asphodel. Per my mother’s instructions, I had added five drops of goat’s milk as well,” Tracy offered to Slughorn. A Welsh lilt made her words sound almost musical, distracting Harry for a moment.

“That would do it. Your mother was working with Iberian goats, which would increase the sedative effect. Our Highland goats milk simply don’t have the same effect and the milk counteracts the wormwood,” Slughorn explained.

Slughorn moved over to Harry’s chair and looked over his shoulder at Harry’s still open textbook. “Harry has also had a set of instructions adjusted, in his case by his grandfather, Fleamont. He achieved his Mastery in Greece and spent many years as an experimental Potioneer.” Slughorn frowned. “How did you know to add the lavender oil, Harry?”

Harry realised that while he had discussed various sleep adding properties of different ingredients with Fleamont the previous summer, the altered instructions didn’t have it on there. “It was a guess, really. Lavender oil has some sleep-inducing properties, so it will help with the soporific parts of the potion. I knew it didn’t counter any of the other ingredients, so the only decision was when to add the oil. If I’d added it too soon, it would have burned off or evaporated, but too late and it wouldn’t mix. I think I got it right.”

Slughorn’s smile grew broader as Harry explained. “That addition is something I would expect from a Potter, truly. Between you and Miss Davis, you probably descend from a large amount of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.” He looked at the whole class. “Now you see the perils and potential of using non-standard recipes in Potions. A wrong ingredient can spoil your whole potion or bring you an excellent result. Homework is to find a non-standard recipe of the draught and highlight all the differences between the two, as well as expected effects from the differences. Three feet of parchment, please.”

He pulled the small vial from his pocket and gave it to Harry. “Fifteen points to Gryffindor as well Harry. That result is something I would expect from either your mother or grandfather. Class dismissed.”

Harry was shocked. He had actually earned points in a Potions class for once and gotten a better result than Hermione! He tucked the Felix Felicis away carefully, pleased with his efforts.

And, after some thought, he added the Slytherin girl, Tracy Davis, to his shortlist of potential soulmates.

The first Saturday of term found Harry lingering over his lunch in the Great Hall and at a loss of what to do. He knew Ron had joined a large group of Gryffindors flying on the Quidditch pitch, practicing for the tryouts in a week’s time. Katie had suggested to Harry that he stay away, the better to let people practice without the captain making them nervous.

Hermione, meanwhile, had taken advantage of the distraction to start drawing the runes for the ritual. She had patiently explained to Harry that she had over two thousand runes to draw, so the sooner she started, the quicker they would be able to complete the ritual once they had the ingredients. And no, she did not need help, thank you very much, and Harry would probably just be a distraction.

So, when Ernie McMillian of the Hufflepuffs called him over to their table, Harry decided to go see what he needed. He was with three other Hufflepuffs - Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley. He slid in across from Susan and Hannah, and asked Ernie what he was after.

“How did you get hold of that altered recipe for the draught, Harry? I’ve had trouble finding them in the library,” Ernie asked him

Harry thought for a moment, then offered a half truth. While Godric’s Tor was to be a secret, no one would be surprised to hear he had returned to Godric’s Hollow. “I went back to Godric’s Hollow over the summer. There were some books from my parents and grandparents.” Fizzy had objected to leaving any books in Godric’s Hollow, after visiting the place herself, so they had all been transported to Godric’s Tor. “As I understand it, my grandfather had made alterations to a few of the standard recipes, based on his experience. My dad made notes in his textbook, trying to impress my mum.”

The range of emotions was varied among the Hufflepuffs. Ernie seemed impressed that James Potter had gone to the effort of using altered recipes. Justin seemed shocked by the same thought.

Susan favoured Harry with a small, sad smile. Harry supposed that she knew more than anyone what it was like to piece together family history through notes and scraps of information.

Hannah seemed excited. “You went back to Godric’s Hollow?”

“Yes, I visited the graves and the house. I haven’t been back there since my parents died.”  Harry thought Hannah’s excitement seemed a little out of place. Even Susan was giving her a strange look.  

Hannah realised that everyone was looking at her a bit oddly and stopped to explain. “Sorry. I’m quite familiar with Godric’s Hollow. My family lived there for generations, the same as yours.” She seemed to wilt a little in the expectant gazes of the other four.

“Oh,” Harry said. There didn’t seem to be much more he could say to that

“Did you go to the pub? My uncle runs it.” Hannah started asking more questions.

Harry shook his head at that. “Nope, we were in disguise and on a time limit. Only the graves and the house.”

Hannah seemed upset by the answer. “You didn’t even see the war memorial?” She shook her head. “Who hasn’t let you go back to Godric’s Hollow before now?”

Harry shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t even know about magic until my eleventh birthday. My Muggle relatives weren’t about to drag me out to a wizarding village.”

Ernie scoffed at that and Harry turned to look at him. “You didn’t know about magic? That’s ridiculous!”

Harry realised that perhaps not everyone had known he grew up with Muggles. “Nope, just ask Justin. All you have are a few weird things that happen that no one can explain.” And get you locked up in a cupboard.

Justin nodded, perhaps eager to contribute. “My best one was when I fixed a vase I broke, but it had already been cracked years before and I’d fixed that part too. Drove my mum nuts for two years until I got my Hogwarts letter.”

Harry smiled back. “I ended up on the roof of my school once. No idea how I managed it.” Personally Harry thought that setting the snake on Dudley was a better story, but Justin might be a little sensitive to stories about snakes after second year.

Ernie looked at Harry. “But you’re the Boy Who Lived! And no one told you about magic?”

Harry smiled sadly. “It’s worse than that, actually.” He waved towards Justin. “How did you learn about magic, Justin?”

Justin frowned. “Professor Burbage did the initial spiel about the magical world. Then we had a visit from one of Zach Smith’s cousins who works in the Department of Education. He took me, Sophie Roper and Sally Anne Perks on a tour of all the magical places in London. Then we all met up with all the other Muggleborns and Professors McGonagall and Sprout took us to buy our school things in Diagon Alley.” Justin paused, running his hands through his curly hair. “There was a fair bit of reading as well. How the government worked, who gets to vote for Minister, careers after Hogwarts, the role of the ICW.”

Harry nodded. “I got a quick trip through Diagon Alley with Hagrid. That’s it. If it hadn’t been for the Weasleys talking loudly about Muggles, I never would have made it to platform nine and three quarters.” He had learned about the introduction that Hermione got as a Muggle born last year. It hadn’t improved his terrible mood at all. “I was the most ignorant child in our year when we started. I think my aunt thought I’d get the same experience as Mum and the teachers thought my aunt would tell me about magic.”

The four Hufflepuffs seemed to be in various stages of shock. Hannah seemed to be almost in tears, Susan wasn’t far behind. Ernie looked affronted, as if Harry’s poor education reflected badly on him personally. Justin looked a bit pale, as if imagining starting Hogwarts with just a brief introduction himself.

Surprisingly, Hannah was the first to recover. “How much do you know of your family history?”

“Not much,” Harry said. “I’ve been reading through some books salvaged from the house, but there wasn’t a lot there.”

“Of course.” Hannah looked at Susan and they seemed to have a brief, silent conversation. Hannah then looked at everyone else. “Come on, I have a book to lend Harry. And we can take this conversation somewhere a bit quieter.”

Hannah led the group out of the Great Hall and down the halls to the kitchens. Harry mused over the fact that Hannah had so easily taken the lead. She had always seemed the shy type but had taken charge when needed. Not unlike himself, at times, really.

The group went into a room filled with large barrels. They were so large that Harry could have walked through them without ducking his head. Hannah didn’t hesitate, tapping out a brief rhythm on a barrel, which then swung open.

Harry followed Susan through the barrel, then stopped up short, finding himself in a warmly coloured room, with round windows letting the afternoon sun. Bean bags and soft couches were everywhere, and the place looked more like a well lived in home than most of the castle.

That might be because it was filled with students of all ages, who all looked to see Harry standing in the doorway.

Harry half turned and gave a look to Justin behind him, who looked a bit abashed. “You could have said we were going to your common room.”

Ernie, who had followed Justin in, looked at Harry with a hint of confusion. “We prefects are allowed to invite guests into the common rooms, you know.”

Harry pointedly gestured to a blank space on his robes. “Not a prefect, remember.” He turned as the whispers started up again. In an effort to say something nice to the staring Hufflepuffs, he said out loud to the room. “I’m not willing to trade in the excellent views from Gryffindor tower but this is so much nicer than the Slytherin common room.”

Dead silence followed this pronouncement, as Harry remembered belatedly that he officially hadn’t been in the Slytherin Common room.

Then the murmurs and voices began again, louder than before. Feeling thoroughly embarrassed, Harry let Ernie lead him over to another round door. The two girls had disappeared off somewhere and Justin followed behind Harry, laughing.

The round door opened to a cosy yellow little room, which surrounded a round table. A low circular booth surrounded it, and there was a couple of scattered pieces of parchment on the table.

“There’s seven of these study nooks off the common room," Justin explained, as he pulled five butterbeers out of a cupboard in the wall. “It makes a nice place to study but still be a part of the house.”

Ernie sat down and pulled out a piece of parchment. “While we wait for the girls, do you know how to get a different recipe for Potions?”

Harry shrugged and sat down opposite him, while Justin slid in next to Ernie. “I used my grandfather’s. Hermione found one in the library easily enough but she knows French. I don’t think Ron has looked at it yet.”

“French," Ernie muttered, making a note on the piece of parchment. “I didn’t think of that. Why is Ron taking Potions, anyway? I thought he’d be happy to drop it.”

Harry squirmed a little. “He wants to join me in Auror training.” He felt guilty over that still but nothing Harry had said had dissuaded his best friend.

Whatever Ernie might have said about Ron was interrupted by the arrival of Hannah and Susan. Hannah clutched a book to her chest and quickly slid in beside Harry, as Susan sat next to Justin.

“Here we are. A History of Godric’s Hollow by Bathilda Bagshot.” Hannah showed Harry the book.

It took a long moment but Harry remembered where he had heard the name. “Didn’t she write a History of Magic?”

Hannah nodded eagerly. “She actually lives in Godric’s Hollow. She’s quite old now but still sharp. Everyone knows her, helps look after her.”

Harry traced his fingers across the leather. He figured that if this was an older book, it might be on the shelves at Godric’s Tor. But he couldn’t tell Hannah that. Best to borrow the book for a couple of weeks, then return it. He could ask Fizzy about it next time he was in their study room.

“Do you have time for a story that’s not completely in the book?”

Harry didn’t register Hannah’s question at first. He shrugged, not feeling up to facing the common room full of Hufflepuffs just yet. “Sure, I have time.”

“OK, I’ll tell you the story of how the Potters got their Wizengamot seat and started a feud with the Abbotts in doing so.”

Before Harry could object, Hannah launched into her tale. “For many years, the Potter family has been a part of Godric’s Hollow. As you know, it is famed as the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor and has had many wizarding families live there.” Hannah snagged one of the butterbeers and opened it. “With such a large wizarding population, it has attracted attention from others who sought to impose upon wizards. The goblin rebellion of 1355 involved an attack on Godric’s Hollow.”

Ernie, who had been listening carefully, snorted. “1355? Even Binns barely mentions it and he loves the goblin rebellions.”

Hannah ignored him. “The attack involved Farin Foehammer, leading over a thousand goblins to Godric’s Hollow. The Hollowers got word and took refuge in a place outside town, owned by the Potters.”

Hannah’s face creased in momentary confusion as she spoke and Harry realised she was coming against the Findelus Charm. He hadn’t realised that Godric’s Tor was that old, but there was no other place he knew of where to Potters had lived. His fingers caressed the book in front of him, eager to double check.

“The Potters took charge, since it was their home. Eleven members of the family formed the first line of defense, with all other adults stationed inside the house. Most of the children were placed below ground.” Hannah rubbed her head, then continued. “I say most, because one young witch – Elizabeth Abbott – joined the Potters on the first line of defense, defying her mother.”

Harry took a swig of the butterbeer, hoping to hide his sudden nervousness. “How old was she? And was she one of the eleven?”

Hannah smiled sadly at him. “Sixteen. And she was the twelfth. It’s called the Battle of Twelve Potters, despite her not being a Potter.”

Justin looked at Hannah. “Twelve people? Against a thousand goblins? It should have been a massacre.”

“I’m sure the other adults in the house provided a bit of spellfire," Harry murmered. He could see it in his mind, the house packed with people, adults sending spells out of the windows at goblins to protect the children in the basement below.

And at the wall, six pairs of soulmates working together to defend the house. Because Hannah’s description of twelve people made no other sense. Able to draw upon each other to reinforce their magic in battle, along with whatever other gifts the bond bestowed.

“I take it Elizabeth didn’t survive?" Susan asked quietly.

Hannah shook her head. “None of the twelve did. But they took out all the goblins as well. It was the most one-sided battles in magical history. No one knows how they did it. People inside the house reported massive amounts of magic being channeled, major feats of Transfiguration. Goblins falling by the score. Farin himself took down the gate, only to be cut down shortly thereafter.” She nodded at the book. “Bathilda mentions the eyewitness accounts but suggests that they were all exaggerated. She put a few in and they sound like the famous duel between Grindewald and Dumbledore.”

Harry looked down at the book, unable to meet anyone else’s eyes. To hear Hannah describe it, it had been a battle without peer. He didn’t feel worthy of wielding magic on the same level as these ancestors.

Perhaps sensing his distress, Hannah gently took his hand in hers. He looked up, to see her smiling at him. “The Abbott family was most upset. Tried to change the name of the battle, tried to demand compensation from the surviving Potters. The Potter family got a hereditary Wizengamot seat, the Abbotts got nothing.”

Ernie seemed puzzled by the accusation. “Eleven Potters died, to one Abbott. It was on a Potter property, against a goblin horde. You would think the Abbotts would count themselves lucky.”

“Grief is not always rational,” Susan said quietly.

Harry nodded slowly. “It is also very difficult to accept that someone else has laid down their life for yours.” His parents and Sirius who all died to protect him.

Silence followed Harry and Susan’s remarks. The other three didn’t seem to know what to say.

Eventually, Justin broke the silence. “I take it the Abbotts forgave the Potters, since you’re not drawing your wand on him.”

Hannah nodded, eager to finish the story. “Eventually, when the Wizards Council was dissolved, The Potter’s argued for the Abbotts to get a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot. All was forgiven.”

“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to fight. And I get to borrow a book out of the deal,” Harry quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

The Hufflepuffs soon began talking about schoolwork and Harry happily joined in with the conversations, eager to talk about normal things for once.

And on his way up to bed that night, he added Hannah Abbott to his shortlist.

Chapter Text

The following Saturday was Quidditch tryouts. The stands were filled to capacity with Gryffindors and other students, eager to see Harry in action as captain.

Harry hated it. For him, Quidditch and flying had been his talent, the one thing he could do that he was proud of. For everyone to suddenly decide to watch him run his first tryouts was infuriating. If he hadn’t needed new team members, he might not have bothered.

He quickly realised he was going to have to be assertive, as there was a large group of students who were first years and a few others who were in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He set all the others a quick task of five laps around the pitch on brooms.

That weeded out a large group more, although Harry was disappointed to see that most of them simply took a seat rather than leaving. It wouldn’t make it any easier on the remaining participants.

He set the Chaser trials first, sorting them into groups of three and sending them at the hoops. With no Keeper to block, it was simply a test of Quaffle holding and scoring. Katie did very well, given her years of playing. A fifth-year girl named Demelza Robbins and Dean Thomas also made it onto his short list.

But the standout was Ginny. She was playing like her life depended on it, flying with speed, accuracy, and coordination. Since she’d been on the team the previous year, she knew the various tricks Katie, Alica and Angelina had used over the years and used them well. Harry knew that she’d practiced a lot over the summer, but even he was impressed.

With the Chaser trials mostly done, he started on the Beaters. Here he used his four Chasers to good effect, simply assigning them to fly around the pitch while he released the Bludgers and the Beater-hopefuls tried to tag them. Sloper and Kirke from the previous year were okay, but a couple of third years had them beat. Jimmy Peakes was the only one to tag Harry on his Firebolt, raising a lump on the back of his head, and Ritchie Coote managed to hit one Bludger into another and bounce them both into Ginny and Katie.

Surprisingly, no one sought to challenge him for Seeker. He’d left the Keeper trials for last, hoping the crowd might disperse and calm Ron’s nerves but if anything, the crowd had grown. He paired up Dean with Katie and Ginny with Demezla and had each pair take five attempts at goal each.

Cormac McLaggen was the only possible contender, managing to equal Ron in blocking five goals. Harry tried to split them by sending the three new chasers against them but they both succeeded there as well.

He called Katie over to him while he sent the others off for a drinks break. Floating above the pitch on his broom, Harry could almost ignore the crowd. He turned to the seventh year. “What do you think?”

Katie looked a little shocked at the question. “Ginny has me beat. I’d probably go with Demelza over Thomas and I think I’m better than both of them.”

Harry laughed briefly. “No, I meant about the Keepers. I’m going to keep Dean around as a reserve. If I end up in the hospital wing again, he can cover Chaser while Ginny takes Seeker.”

Katie smiled at him. “The two of them are pretty even skill wise. But both of them have a confidence issue.”

Harry frowned at that. “Both of them? I know Ron doubts himself but Cormac certainly doesn’t.”

Katie shook her head, her dark tresses dancing around her face. “Cormac is overconfident. He thinks he can do everything better than anyone else. It will be just as much an issue as Ron, trust me.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I’d been inclined towards Ron. He lives and breathes Quidditch and Merlin knows he’s been helping Ginny work up different strategies. That sort of work Wood used to do but I’ve never had a talent for. If he’d really struggled, I would have had a hard time justifying it. But on the other hand…”

He trailed off and Katie filled in the rest. “You don’t want to be seen as favouring a friend. It makes sense to me to go with Ron, so its justified.”

Harry landed and made his announcement. While he could have just posted it on the bulletin board, he didn’t see any point in delaying the inevitable. He made sure to single out Dean and tell him to come to practices.

Predictably, McLaggen was upset. “You’re only picking him because he is your friend!”

Harry shook his head tiredly. “Nope. He has earned his place on the team. It was equal between the two of you but he has match experience.” Hopefully Ron remembered that he had won matches as Keeper, which should help him.

“Because one of the Chasers is his sister, and she took it easy on him!” McLaggen raged to the crowd around him.

“No,” Harry said simply. “Ginny has six brothers and she would never take it easy on any of them. She’s going to be better than any of them.”

Ginny obviously heard him, blushing red and burying her face in Dean’s shirt. Harry hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her too much. He liked having her to talk to.

“You can’t understand her that well,” Cormac grumbled sulkily.

“Yes, I can. I’ve spent lots of time with her family. She came with me last year to the Ministry. More importantly, it’s my decision, and it’s been made.” He turned and left, hoping to get an hour of Charms study in before dinner.

After dinner found himself sitting in the ritual room, staring at the piece of paper on the wall. Three names sat there. Susan Bones, the fellow orphan. Tracy Davis, the fellow descendant of Potions prodigies. Hannah Abbott, also descended from Hollowers.

Hermione paused in her rune inscribing to talk to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Ginny,” Harry said simply. “Charlus and Dorea talked about understanding your soulmate. I realised today at tryouts that I understand Ginny very well. I understand her drive, her need to prove herself. She has the same attitude to flying that I do. She’s proven herself a loyal friend.”

Hermione frowned a little at that. “So why don’t you add her?”

“Two reasons... and they both sleep in my dorm,” Harry said simply.

Hermione nodded. “Just because she’s in a relationship with Dean isn’t a reason to ignore her. Dorea was betrothed to Nott, remember?”

“I know. I should probably consider people in relationships as well. I can’t say it will go well if he thinks I’m cutting in.” Harry sighed.

“Once you know who your soulmate is, you can explain to them, Harry. But I think you’re more worried about Ron,” Hermione said gently.

“She is his little sister. As much as they fight and bicker, he would throw me from the Astronomy Tower if he thought I’d hurt her or was considering dating her.” Despite not having a sibling of his own, he could understand the protectiveness. He was pretty protective of Hermione, after all.

“We can keep Ron out of here, so you won’t have to show him the list. Actually… Fizzy!” Hermione called.

“Miss Hermione called?” said the house elf, popping in next to them.

Hermione smiled at her. “Yes. Can we set up a standing order? If anyone other than Harry or I come into this room, you are to take all papers and books from here to Godric's Tor and make all the runes illegible.”

Fizzy beamed at Hermione. “Fizzy will do this. Fizzy will set up an elf ward and, if it is breached, I will take everything back home.”

Hermione smiled softly at Harry. “See? Add Ginny. I think she is a good choice and if she is your soulmate, Ron would get over it eventually.”

So, Harry added Ginny Weasley to the list of potential soulmates.

Thursday, thirty-first of October had Harry in a rather bad mood. Since he had had so many things to go wrong on Halloween over his many years at Hogwarts, his first inclination was to try and stay in bed all day. Unfortunately, he was dragged out of his bed by Neville and Ron, under Hermione’s orders.

“Really Harry. Do you just expect to hang about in your bed all day? We have Transfiguration this morning, and you know Professor McGonagall will give you detention for skipping class,” Hermione said as Ron and Neville shoved him into the bathroom.

A brief shower did nothing to improve his mood, nor did the fact that his attempt to skip the day had resulted only in a skipped breakfast. As such, he grumpily struggled to conjure birds non-verbally for the entire Transfiguration lesson, without succeeding to produce more than a feather. Hermione, of course, was soon creating entire flocks of birds to the envy of everyone else. While Harry was usually happy to celebrate his friend’s success, today he was really just waiting for the first thing to go wrong.

They made it to lunch, which was a brief affair so the prefects and house elves could prepare the Great Hall for the Halloween feast that night. Harry ate a couple of sandwiches, but the food did little to dispel his mood.

Everyone else dispersed to find activities to do for the afternoon, everyone eagerly awaiting the feat that night. Harry retreated to the study room, where Hermione had begun to inscribe runes on the floor in silver. Avoiding the ritual area, he curled up in his armchair and tried to read ahead on Potions. He wanted to talk to the painted Potters to distract himself, but other portraits wouldn’t work in the halls of Hogwarts. He had left the small frame at the Burrow, where Arthur and Molly had promised to keep them company.

After giving up on Potions, he tried the morning’s exercise from Transfiguration. Even speaking the avis charm, he still struggled to conjure a single bird. By nightfall, he had given up on the idea of studying, staring out the window helplessly.

He went back up to the dorms, tucking both the Marauders Map and his father’s Invisibility Cloak in his pockets. While he had no indication that anything was going to go wrong, he wanted to be prepared anyway. He returned to the common room to see the house start to file down to the feast, following all the happy first years and the chattering younger students excited for the feast.

Harry filed out, the last in the house to do so. He followed Ginny and Dean, who were far more interested in each other than him. Watching them, Harry felt a pang of jealously. It was so easy for them, for all the other students. They just had to worry about feasts, who was dating who and schoolwork. They didn’t have to worry about prophecies and Dark Lords. They could trust in the adults to protect them.

Finally giving up on the idea of the feast, he abandoned the Gryffindors and retreated to a classroom on the fourth floor. No one noticed him leaving, which suited Harry just fine. Walking into the classroom, he realised he’d been here before – first year, when he looked into the Mirror of Erised.

Throwing the Invisibility Cloak over himself, he sat on a box and stared out the window, trying to come up with an answer to the bad mood that had plagued him all day. He had, after all had plenty of Halloween’s since that night in Godric’s Hollow. Nothing had changed, really.

Why had he resisted getting out of bed this morning? It was only another Halloween.

His musings were interrupted by a gentle pop next to him. “Master Harry must eat,” Fizzy said, placing a platter of food on the box next to him.

“Thank you Fizzy,” Harry said. Just because he was in a bad mood didn’t mean inflicting it on Fizzy. The house elf placed a goblet of pumpkin juice beside the platter, then disappeared.

Harry ate and drank the food Fizzy had brought him, then the elf disappeared the evidence of his meal. Harry pulled the hood of the cloak back over his head, content to disappear himself for a while.

After a while, Harry heard the creak of the door behind him. He froze in place, not even breathing, hoping he wouldn’t be discovered. He hoped in vain. Luna Lovegood came and stood right in front of him, looking right at him.

“Hello Harry.”

With a sigh, Harry lowered the hood of his cloak. “Hello Luna. How did you know I was here?”

A mysterious smile played across her face. “I followed your Wrackspurts, of course. They led right here.”

Accepting that as an answer, Harry moved over to let Luna sit on the boxes beside him. The girl accepted the wordless invitation, sitting next to him.

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. He hadn’t been able to articulate his bad mood to himself, he could hardly do so to Luna. But the words slipped out anyway. “It’s Halloween, I’ve just been waiting for the crisis of the year to start.”

Luna looked at him and Harry thought she needed more of an exclamation. “My first year was the troll that Voldemort let in that tried to kill Hermione. The second, the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Third year, Sirius broke in for his first attempt to kill Pettigrew.” His stomach churned as he realised that Sirius’s timing may have been deliberate, to kill Pettigrew with no innocent bystanders. He’d never had the chance to ask Sirius about it, and now never would.

“Fourth year was that blasted, thrice cursed, confounded Goblet,” Harry continued. “And last year Voldemort broke all the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. So I’m just waiting for whatever this year wants to throw at me. At least this way there’s no one else getting hurt.”

Luna seemed to accept that, leaning against his invisible shoulder. “And what about your friends?”

“I want you safe.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think, perhaps because they required no thought at all. “All of you got hurt last year, following me to the Ministry. I’m the one who walked away unscathed.”

Ginny, who had hurt her ankle. Neville, who had broken his nose and his father’s wand. Luna, unconscious.

Ron, who had been attacked by the brains.

Hermione, who had been hurt by Dolohov’s curse.

Silence followed his pronouncement and Harry thought he’d made his point.

But then Luna spoke, almost delicately. “I’m not used to having friends.”

Harry smiled softly, remembering his own days of loneliness, avoiding his cousin and his friends at school. “Neither am I, really.”

“So if one of your friends was hiding out alone in a classroom because they thought they were bringing danger to everyone else, what would you do?” Luna asked in her quiet voice.

Harry felt a sudden spike of indignation, that it was different , that people had died for him, that everyone had already been hurt enough because of him, that he had hurt people…

And the words on his lips died as he looked into Luna’s all-too-knowing eyes. In the end, it didn’t matter that he would bring danger and destruction to everyone. She was his friend and she would follow him again into danger if it was needed. Because that’s what friends do.

“Come on, friend,” Luna said brightly. “Nothing will happen tonight. We are safe here, and you are too.”

So Harry let Luna lead him back to the Great Hall, full of life, laughter and celebration. To his mild surprise, nothing happened that night and the headlines in the morning didn’t have any major calamities. For the first time in years, Halloween had been incident free.

And Harry added Luna Lovegood to his soulmate list.

Game day for Harry’s new Quidditch team dawned with surprisingly clear weather for November. Harry moved among his team at breakfast, encouraging his newest players to eat, making a point of asking Seamus about his plans for a victory party within earshot of the team.

Katie Bell was doing the same thing, sitting next to Demelza and Ginny and quietly going over Chaser plays with them. Harry had noted that Katie had really made his life easier as Captain, taking a leadership role among the girls.

Ron was the stubborn one. Cormac had made a point of dismissing Ron’s abilities and suggesting that he had only gotten the Keeper position through a combination of Ginny and Harry conspiring to give it to him. After weeks of snide comments, and passive aggressive barbs, Ron had reverted to moaning that he was useless and it would be better if he didn’t play.

Harry was rapidly losing his patience with his best mate. “You won the Quidditch Cup last year! Without me! You will be fine.”

Ron’s only response was to groan and bury his face in his hands. Hermione seemed to take matters into her own hands. Stroking his arm gently, Hermione spoke softly into his ear.

Whatever she said, it worked. Ron perked up and seemed to take heart, eating a piece of toast with bacon. Harry quickly began to eat too, in case he needed his strength for a long match. He did wonder what Hermione had said but quickly put it from his mind. He’d ask her after the match.

Soon they were in the Quidditch change rooms and Harry listened with delight as Ginny stated that Vaisley, the Slytherin’s best Chaser was out since he’d taken a Bludger to the head in practice. Malfoy also called in sick, which Harry thought was suspicious. But to play a subpar Slytherin team for their opening match was an opportunity Harry wasn’t going to squander.

“Okay men.” Harry began his pregame speech

“And women.” Katie jumped in.

“And women,” Harry agreed. “This is it.”

“The big one,” Katie said, on cue.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for.”

“The one we’ve trained for.”

“We’ve got the best team, the best players.”

“So we’re going to win!”

The other five members of the team looked at the two veterans like they’d taken too many Bludger hits and then burst out laughing. Harry and Katie were laughing too, remembering when the twins would copy Oliver’s speech to annoy him. Harry made a mental note to add Katie Bell to his soulmate list after the match. He’d never be able to do the twins speech with anyone else.

Harry mounted up and led the team out. Katie stood up for the Quaffle toss and Harry started looking for the Snitch as soon as the whistle blew. The girls flew effortlessly in moving the Quaffle and the Slytherin’s lack of teamwork showed. Ginny scored the first goal and Harry turned back to searching for the Snitch.

He heard Zach Smith make a derisive comment about Coote and snorted to himself as he kept scanning for that glint of gold. He dodged a Bludger and spotted Harper also looking for the Snitch. Harry threw a feint, but Harper didn’t take the bait.

Playing as captain, Harry decided, was very different from just being the Seeker. For the last five years, his job had just been to catch the Snitch. As captain, he had to monitor the rest of his players, watch for injuries, see if they needed a time out. It really spoiled the whole experience.

Katie scored again, making the score fifty-nil. At the rate they were going, this was going to be the biggest blowout in Hogwarts history. The girls whizzed by and the stands were cheering.

Smith seemed to be grumbling about a lack of sportsmanship from the Gryffindors, which had Harry shaking his head. Surely if their were positions reversed, Smith would be the first to pile on the points in the race for the Quidditch Cup. Harry wondered if all the Quidditch captains were going to be tapped to commentate, it seemed off to allow the Hufflepuff team captain to do so. Harry wasn’t about to volunteer.

Harry completed another circuit of the pitch, catching Ron’s eye as he did so. For all his friends panic of the past week, Ron seemed bored. All the action in the game was happening at the Slytherin goal posts, which was good. Harry tapped his glasses when Ron was watching him, a warning to keep alert. The rhythm of Quidditch could change in a heartbeat.

Ron nodded, and Harry raced off towards the Slytherin end, watching for the Snitch. A cheer went up as Demelza scored her first goal, which Smith half-heartedly congratulated her on. Harper, acting as Slytherin team captain, called a time out and Harry followed his team down to the pitch.

“Going alright there, Katie?” Harry asked.

Katie looked at him and he knew that she realised Harry was asking about more than her health.

“Going well, Captain,” she said, flicking him a salute. “We’re getting the chance to try out all the new moves. Just keep an eye out for that Snitch, yeah?”

Harry nodded back to her, mentally agreeing that it would be a shame for such a fine scoreline to be marred by the loss of the game. “The way you girls are flying, it won’t matter for much longer. Try to ignore Smith, he seems a little intimidated.”

That remark got a laugh. Harry quickly checked in with the rest of the team, but there were no issues. Ginny in particular seemed keen to get back in the air and run up the scoreboard while the Slytherins were still struggling.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Ginny took the Quaffle and soared off to the Slytherin goalposts again. Harry had told Coote and Peakes to guard the three chasers from Crabbe and Goyle, since Ron and Harry were almost reduced to spectating the match.

Happy to leave the Chasers in Katie's hands, Harry resumed his look for the Snitch. Soon Smith begrudgingly announced that Gryffindor had passed the hundred and sixty-point mark and Harry could see that people were starting to leave the stands.

A sudden shout from the crowd had Harry picking out Harper, who had gone into a climb. Above him, Harry could spot the speck of gold that was the Snitch. Harry ignored the score, the crowd and Smith, pushing his Firebolt to its top speed.

The Snitch kept climbing as Harper and Harry kept pushing for it. Harper was well in front, but Harry had the better broom and the greater experience. He had minimized his air resistance as much as possible, (thank you, Hermione) and all his focus was on the Snitch. If the Snitch had manoeuvered at all, Harry wouldn’t have had much chance, but it just kept climbing at speed. Eventually they got close enough that Harry batted away Harper's arm to claim the Snitch.

Harry levelled off, taking stock of the situation. They had ended up high above the pitch, so much so that the crowd looked like ants. Harry had never flown so high and thought he might do so next time he had practice. He turned to his reluctant opponent, offering his non-Snitch hand. “Good game, Harper.”

Harper refused to shake Harry’s hand. “Fuck off, Potter.” He then turned and slowly began to dive down towards the pitch. Harry shrugged and headed down himself. There was no helping some people.

The final score for the match was three hundred and forty to nil. While not a record, it was certainly a good start to the season. As promised, Seamus had planned for a party in the Gryffindor common room after the match.

Harry was, embarrassingly enough, late to the party. First he was waylaid by the Weasleys, as Ron and Ginny seemed close to crossing wands over a celebratory kiss shared between Ginny and Dean. After sorting that out to no one’s satisfaction, McGonagall pulled him aside to discuss the possibility of his commentating next week’s Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match.

“I’m sure there’s other people more qualified, Professor,” Harry protested.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “After that performance, Mr Potter, you can hardly claim to be uneducated in the matters of Quidditch.” Her cool tone sent a shiver down his spine.

“It was a good match, Professor, but that was mostly the Chasers. I just hung back and let them work,” Harry argued. For a moment he thought he should argue for Ron and Ginny to sit in the commentary box, but after breaking up their argument over Dean and Ginny kissing, he couldn’t guarantee the box would survive.

“Exactly, Potter. Do you know how many teams I have seen implode because the Captain thinks he needs to micromanage his players? You did exactly what you needed to do, picked people you could trust and let them do their job,” McGonagall told Harry.

Harry felt embarrassed by her praise. “I just copied Wood’s example,” he mumbled. An idea came to him. “Professor, surely it might take the sting out of the Slytherin loss to ask a couple of them to commentate? Perhaps the two who didn’t play today, Malfoy and Vaisley?”

McGonagall looked at Harry with an eyebrow raised and Harry felt about a foot tall. “I have been a teacher for forty years, Potter. I have taught your father, who was far sneakier than you. You do not fool me. You think Malfoy is up to something and want him hindered.”

“Well, yes,” Harry said. “For the good of the school, of course.” And me, he thought quietly. He can’t kidnap me and drag me off to Voldemort if he’s commentating Quidditch.

McGonagall favoured him with a rare smile. “I will take your suggestion under advisement, Mister Potter. Consider yourself reprieved from commentating. Go and enjoy your party and please tell Mister Finnegan that I was the one to take his Firewhisky. He can have it back after he turns seventeen.”

Harry made it to the Gryffindor common room and stepped inside to raucous cheers, where the party was in full swing. The Creevey brothers were the first to waylay him, eager to discuss the match play by play. Harry might not have minded, since he hadn’t seen everything that went on, but then Romilda Vane came and draped herself over Harry, making him feel very uncomfortable.

Begging off, Harry ducked off to find Seamus and deliver the message from McGonagall. He found him talking to Demelza Robbins and interrupted him to discuss the missing Firewhisky. Seamus was surprised, as he hadn’t noticed the Firewhisky missing, and left to investigate. Demelza gave a brief goodbye and disappeared with a group of her friends.

He then sought refuge from his adoring fans and creepy stalkers with a group of seventh years that included Katie Bell.

“How did we fare, Katie?” Harry asked as he sat down. 

Again, Katie seemed to understand that Harry meant more than the obvious answer. Their long years of playing together had given them an insight into each other that few could match. “Ginny copped a decent bruise from a Bludger, but Pomfrey healed it easily. Other than that, we got away easy.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll cut back the practices until after Christmas. This was a good win and we don’t have another match until Hufflepuff in March. Give us a chance to do non-Quidditch things.”

Katie laughed. “Oliver would have made us practice more, if he’d had a win like this. But I don’t mind. If you think sixth year is hard, wait until you get to seventh.”

“Cormac stormed off to bed, Harry,” Leanne supplied. “I think he was upset about the scope of your win. He wanted you to fail.” 

Harry nodded. “Me and Ron. But the way Katie and the girls were playing, we were just spectating. We’ll have to make sure he can actually block goals before the next match. Speaking of which Katie, do you feel like commentating for a future match? I begged off next week's match, but McGonagall is having a hard time replacing Lee.”

Katie smirked. “So you can sacrifice me in your place? No deal, captain. Your badge, your problem.”

The others laughed and Harry stood to go. The older students had given him some breathing room, but he still wanted to check in on the rest of the team. He spotted his two Beaters surrounded by their year mates and made a point to shake their hands and congratulate them on a good game. He soon found Ginny with Neville and Dean.

“All right Ginny? Katie said you got hit by a Bludger.”

Ginny gave him a grin. “Pomfrey healed me up easily. Dean didn’t even get to apply bruise balm.”

Neville blushed at that and Harry wondered exactly where Ginny had gotten hit. Not that it mattered. “Have you seen Hermione and Ron?”

Neville’s blush deepened and Ginny smirked. “Ron’s over there, the filthy hypocrite.”

Harry looked in the indicated direction and spotted Ron, entangled with Lavender Brown. Her lips were firmly on his and their hands were running all over each other. Harry felt stunned, as Ron had shown no indication of being interested in Lavender before.

“How long has that been going on?”

Dean snorted. “What’s the time now? I’d tell them to get a room, but I don't want to have them end up in our dorm.”

Harry shuddered at the thought. At least they were keeping clothes on. “Where’s Hermione? I thought she would have put a stop to it.”

Neville looked grim. “She left out the portrait hole. I think she was upset. I went after her, but she disappeared before we got to the seventh floor. She must know a secret passage I don’t.”

Harry had stood, taken a step towards the dorm, then reversed course to the Fat Lady. “I know where she’ll be. I’ll look after her.”

Because by giving them the closest classroom to Gryffindor tower, McGonagall had unwittingly given Hermione a private study area of her own. And with a Notice Me Not charm on the door, Neville would have probably walked right past it. Only Harry was keyed in.

Harry considered stomping on the floor, as he knew that room was under the common room, but dismissed the idea. Hermione probably wouldn’t hear, everyone would think he was weird and it would give away the secret of the room. 

Instead he ducked around a group of second years and went out the portrait hole. Harry walked down the stairs and came to the door to their ritual room. He knocked once, then entered the room. Hermione was sitting in her armchair and she looked up at Harry as he entered. Her red rimmed eyes met his and Harry could see that she’d been crying. As he crossed the room to her, she began crying once more.

Being careful not to step on the runes on the floor, Harry gathered Hermione in his arms. Her positioning on the chair made this very awkward, so Harry ended up kneeling in front of her chair, holding her head to his shoulder. She clung to him as if she were drowning and it was all he could do to hug her back.

Harry stayed in that position for a while, until his knees began to ache and the shirt on his shoulder was soaked through. He was determined to hold Hermione as long as she needed, however. She had done it for him when he went back to Godric’s Hollow, he could return the favour now. 

At last she calmed down and raised her head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she croaked. “You should be upstairs celebrating with the others. You’re the captain.”

Harry shook his head. “My friend needs me. I should be here.It’s what friends do.” Thank you Luna.

“Friends,” Hermione said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Sometimes I think you’re the only friend I have, Harry.”

Harry sighed internally. He’d figured Ron had done something to set Hermione off, he just hadn’t been sure what.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione was silent for a long time, so much so that Harry wasn’t certain of her response.

Eventually, she spoke. “I suggested that we could attend the party together. I thought it might help motivate him to play well.”

Harry winced. Hermione’s flat, expressionless, way of talking only hinted at the pain she must be feeling. To have one of her oldest friends pass her over for her roommate must hurt like hell. Harry’s only point of comparison was when Cho and Cedric started dating when Harry had his crush on her in fourth year and Harry knew it wasn’t the same in any way.

“I… didn’t know you were interested in him,” Harry said quietly. If he had known, he might have tried to let the two of them spend more time alone without him.

“I…just feel left behind,” Hermione said quietly. “Ginny is dating boys. You’re looking for your soulmate. It seems like everyone is pairing off. Viktor was nice, but…”

Harry let her thoughts trail off. He wasn’t sure if Hermione had ever taken Viktor Krum up on his offer to visit Bulgaria. He knew they had exchanged a few letters, but wasn’t sure how or why things had ended between them. He’d never asked and she’d never told him.

“Harry…” Hermione spoke hesitatingly. “I don’t want to be left behind. After we find your soulmate, can I do the ritual to find mine?”

Harry felt a rush of relief at the question. Of everything she could have asked him, he was more than happy to let her find her own soulmate.

”Of course, Hermione. It’s the least I can do, really.”

Hermione gave him a wobbly smile and Harry smiled back at her. She hugged him again and Harry felt at peace.

Chapter Text

The difference between Harry and Hermione was apparent by how they tackled the problem of potential soulmates. Harry put a piece of parchment on the wall and added names of girls to it as they occurred to him. He had a list of six names and thought he’d done a good job.

Hermione instead, as a theoretical exercise , took the time to list every boy she thought might work as a soulmate in Hogwarts (so most of the sixth and seventh years, with a couple of fifth years as well) and proceeded to briefly list their attributes and rank them accordingly. Harry wasn’t shocked or surprised by this at all.

What was shocking and surprising was the name at the top of the list

“Dean Thomas!” Harry exclaimed. “Really?”

“Keep your voice down,” Hermione retorted. “We’re under Gryffindor tower, remember.”

Harry had not forgotten that their study room was conveniently close to their common room, but had figured that the thick walls would probably muffle the sound enough. If that wasn’t enough, the room had been warded by both Hermione and Fizzy. Still, he wasn’t about to argue the point. He picked up Hermione’s list again.

“I was just surprised, that’s all. I wouldn’t have put him on top of your list.”

To say nothing of the argument if Ginny found out, he thought to himself.

“Oh?” There was an edge to Hermione’s voice that scared Harry a little. “And who would you have picked to top the list?”

Harry glanced down the list. He noted the absence of his and Ron’s names without much surprise – after Hermione had stormed out of the party, she and Ron hadn’t been on speaking terms. And it’s not like he’d added Hermione to his own list. He noted that most of the Muggleborn boys in their year were high on Hermione’s list, which made a certain amount of sense. Most purebloods wouldn’t know what a dentist was even after getting a NEWT in Muggle Studies, which made understanding Hermione a little more difficult.

Finally he found the name he was looking for. “Eddie Carmichael,” Harry said. “Ravenclaw, Head Boy. I thought you would have ranked him higher than fifteenth.”

He looked up to see Hermione staring at him. “Don't you remember he was the one trying to con you and Ron last year?” Hermione said flatly.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry muttered. Given Hermione’s need to follow rules, someone who broke them wasn’t going to end up highly on her list. He kept reading down the list. “I’m surprised you put Malfoy on here at all… and he’s higher than last.”

“Unlike some people, Malfoy can be quite intelligent,” Hermione argued. “He keeps borrowing my favorite books on alchemy from the library.”

“I wonder if that has anything to do with his mission,” Harry said bluntly. “For the Death Eaters. You know, the terrorists who think you should be killed?”

Hermione waved away his objection. “Malfoy is currently twenty first on my list, so I highly doubt it will get that far. It’s only a theoretical list, anyway. Once we get the ritual working, it will tell me who my soulmate is.” 

“If it’s Malfoy, I’m going to laugh from now until you kill each other,” Harry promised her.

Whatever retort Hermione might have said was interrupted by Fizzy’s arrival. “Master Harry, Master Weasley and Master Weasley have everything on your list for you.” As she spoke, various items popped into existence around her. 

Hermione gave a gasp of surprise. “I was sure it would take them until Christmas.” Gleefully she took the list from Fizzy and began checking things off. Harry waited, feeling excited himself as Hermione double checked the twins' work. Finally, she nodded. “When do you want to do the ritual?”

“As soon as possible,” Harry replied. “Voldemort is only getting stronger. The longer we wait, the more people suffer. The faster we get my soulmate on board, the sooner we can start working out a plan to finish things.”

Hermione nodded. “You’ll have a few things to recite as you cross the circles.” She shuffled through her papers until she came across a piece of paper. “Here are the incantations that you have to say as you cross each circle. I’ve put a note on how to say each one phonetically, so you won’t need to learn Old English to do the ritual. I doubt the other Potters have.”

Harry took it with a certain amount of trepidation. Hermione had always been rather strict on the proper pronunciation of spells. To try and say various things in a different language was daunting.

“How much does Old English differ from modern English? Is it really that hard to learn the difference?”

His hopeful gaze was met with an unamused Hermione. She simply gestured towards the piece of paper in Harry’s hand. “How many of those words do you know?”

Harry looked at the piece of paper. With a sinking heart, he realised that none of the words on the paper had any meaning to him and about half had letters he didn’t recognise. “Very hard then.”

He looked up to see Hermione looking at him with a small, superior smile. “How long do you think it will take you to memorise that?”

Harry felt better at that comment. He might be utterly useless when it came to Runes and Arithmancy but Hogwarts had been nothing but challenge after challenge for him. He looked over the piece of paper and noted that there were really only twenty eight words. It wouldn’t be any harder than learning the Summoning Spell under duress or planning a lesson of the DA. 

“I’ll spend every spare hour on it. I can even drop Quidditch practice tonight. Do you think you can have the runes completed soon?”

Hermione had already begun calculating. Like Harry, she was quite capable at rising to a challenge. “I can have the last runes in place by next Wednesday, twentieth of November. That should be plenty of time for you to memorise your part. Do you know what the phase of the moon will be then?”

Given that he’d happily given up Astronomy, Harry had no clue. “I can ask Professor Sinstera, or check one of the fifth year textbooks.” 

Hermione looked at him. She was trying for a bored or indifferent look, but she couldn’t conceal that her eyes were sparkling with delight. “Go and find out for me please. I have runes to draw.”

Harry left to go and find Ginny or Luna. In less than a week, he would have his soulmate.

Harry’s building excitement was interrupted by a request from Dumbledore to visit his office on Tuesday. While he initially thought about begging off, Hermione had encouraged him to go, claiming she had everything in hand. So it was with no small amount of trepidation that he climbed the stairs to Dumbledore’s office. After all, the last time he’d been inside it, he’d done his very best to smash everything inside to pieces. 

But upon entering, he saw that everything looked much the same as it had over the years. Fawkes stared at him intently from his perch. Harry noticed that the various silver items that he had had smashed after Sirius’ death had been repaired and had resumed their usual dance, spinning and emitting the occasional noise.

The only major change was that the Pensieve had been taken out of its usual cabinet and sat on the desk. Dumbledoor was writing and Harry took a seat while he waited for Dumbledore to acknowledge him.

“Good evening Harry,” Dumbledore said, as he finished his writing. “How has your term been so far?”

“Well, no one tried to kill me on Halloween,” Harry said. “I was a little surprised, to be honest.”

Dumbledore gave Harry a small, bitter smile. “It is unfortunate that your life has become such that you are surprised by no one trying to kill you, Harry. I would have given much to have you spared that fate.”

Harry shrugged. “We’re off to a decent start for the Quidditch Cup, at least.” That topic reminded him of something he meant to address with Dumbledore. “Sir, over the summer I thought I saw the Dark Mark on Malfoy’s arm.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry critically over his half moon glasses. “Are you certain? I am well aware of your enmity with Master Malfoy.”

Harry felt heat flush his face under the scrutiny but he pressed on. “He didn’t exactly show me, but he’s definitely up to something. He called in sick for the Quidditch match and he disappears off the Marauder’s Map at times.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I have my ways of keeping track of young Master Malfoy’s activities, Harry. I would suggest you avoid him as much as possible, given your history. Likely he blames you for his father’s imprisonment in Azkaban. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Harry simply stared back at Dumbledore. His experiences at Hogwarts were such that he did need to worry about Malfoy. No one had listened to them in the first year about the Philosopher's Stone. The teacher they had taken to the Chamber of Secrets had turned out to be a total dud. Sirius had waltzed in and out of Hogwarts under high security and he had to go back in time to save himself from Dementors. Moody had been the one to help him with the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year, which would have been nice if he hadn’t been a polyjuiced Death Eater who was responsible for getting him into that mess in the first place. And no one had acted to stop Umbridge last year or had been around to help him when he’d thought Sirius had been taken.

Unaware of Harry’s thoughts, Dumbledore spoke up. “You seem to have made a striking impression on Professor Slughorn, at any rate. He spends a decent amount of time comparing you to both your mother and your grandfather to anyone who will listen.” A small smile graced his lips. “For some reason, Severus doesn’t believe him.”

Harry snorted. “I learned more from my grandfather over the course of a summer than Snape has taught me in five years.” A frown crossed his face as he thought of something. “Why didn’t you want me to go there, Headmaster? You didn’t want the house opened up, nor want me to find the grimoire?”

Dumbledore looked very old as he answered Harry’s question. “While I am sure you enjoyed learning about your grandparents, I thought that perhaps it was a little too soon after Sirius’ death for you to go looking through such things. I also thought I could look at the wards myself, when I had time to do so. My first priority is always your safety, Harry.”

Given how close they had all come to blowing up Godric’s Tor, Harry could understand that. If it hadn’t been for Hermione, who had invited herself along, they could never have solved his mother’s riddle.

“I am glad you got to visit your parent’s graves, Harry,” Dumbledore continued. “Had you looked a little more through the graveyard, you might have found the graves of my mother and sister. I lived in Godric’s Hollow myself, when I was your age, and some of my family will now always rest alongside generations of Potters. I had planned to take you next time I was visiting there myself.” 

Harry blinked. For some reason, he had never thought of Dumbledore as a young man. His chocolate frog card mentioned his various deeds – his duel with Grindelwald and his work on alchemy. It was easy to think of them all as being done by the aged wizard behind the desk. To think of a young Dumbledore running around Godric’s Hollow was somehow the alien thought.

Dumbledore smiled softly as he saw the expression on Harry’s face. “Yes, once I was a young man myself, Harry. I had dreams and hopes of everything I could achieve in a long life.” His smile faded. “It is a sobering thought to sit here and wonder where all those years have gone.”

With that, he stood and walked around the desk, drawing a vial from his pocket as he did so. “But it is about someone else’s past I wish to talk with you tonight, Harry.  Please, follow me into the Pensieve.”

Pouring the silvery liquid into the Pensieve, Dumbledore put his face in, then disappeared. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry followed.

He landed on a country lane, loose stone crunching under his feet as he stood. Before him, Dumbledore stood to his full height, looking expectantly at an oddly dressed man. The man looked at a sign then set off in the direction of Little Hangleton.

“May I introduce you to Robert Ogden, once an employee of the Department of Law Enforcement,” Dumbledore said as they followed him down the lane. “He passed away some years ago but I persuaded him to share this memory with me. Tell me, Harry, what do you know of the Gaunt family?”

Harry wracked his brain. “They are a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight, which means that they have no known Muggle relatives and likely means they buy into the whole pureblood mania. But I can’t recall meeting anyone in the family.”

Dumbledore nodded as he carefully picked his way down a steep slope. As it levelled out, Ogden pulled out his wand and carefully held it pointed towards the hedges on his left. Harry fought his own instinct to pull out his own wand. As far as he knew, nothing in this memory could harm him.

Ogden came to a gap in the hedges and turned to see a small, rundown house. Harry was perturbed to see a dead snake nailed to the door. A youngish man was lounging against a tree, stroking a snake. 

“ You’re not welcome ,” said the man with the snake.

“Could you please repeat that for me, Harry?” Dumbledore asked quietly

“He said he wasn’t welcome,” Harry said, confused. But the answer quickly came to him. “He’s speaking Parseltongue!”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “The Gaunts were known for it”

“Excuse me, I didn’t quite understand you,” Ogden said, looking nervously at the man as he  lowered the snake to the ground. He did not take his eyes off Ogden. Once the snake was slithering towards Ogden, the young man drew his wand, pointing it at Ogden. Ogden had his own wand raised in response, splitting his attention between the man and his pet snake.

The standoff was interrupted by a man coming out of the door, which made the dead snake swing. The newcomer walked oddly, with one shoulder higher than the other. He looked old but a family resemblance between him and the younger man was clear.  He had his wand out and pointed at Ogden, but looked at the younger man in a fury. 

“Call off the snake and get inside. Don’t argue,” the older man hissed at the younger. This time, Harry was able to distinguish the Parseltongue and he dutifully repeated the words to Dumbledore.

The younger man called to the snake and both of them went inside the shack, leaving Ogden facing off against the older man. Ogden seemed to relax a little, letting his wand fall to his side.

“Marvolo Gaunt, I presume?” Ogden said in a clear voice, clearly determined to make himself heard. “My name is Robert Ogden, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I’m here to talk about your son, Morfin.” 

Marvolo grumbled then waved Ogden inside. The inside of the shack was hardly more appealing than the outside. Everything appeared ruined from long wear or broken. A couple of snakes slid along the floor, heedless of the people around. Morfin had taken a chair and sat crooning to his snake.

It was only after she moved that Harry realised there was another person in the shack. A girl in a grey dress was working over a pot, cooking dinner. Since her grey dress was the same colour as the wall behind her, and she stood mutely stirring a pot, Harry had not spotted her at first.

“My daughter, Merope,” Marvolo said by way of introduction.

Robert nodded an acknowledgement to the girl and said aloud to the room. “Last night, Morfin Gaunt performed magic in front of a Muggle and, indeed, on said Muggle, in violation of the Statute of Secrecy and the Separation of Muggle and Magical Act, which is to protect Muggles from harmful magic.” Robert held out a piece of parchment towards Marvolo. “This is a summons to a hearing which will decide if the charges are to go before the Court of Magical Law.”

Marvolo snatched the paper from Ogden. “This is that bleeding heart Potter’s crap, I’m sure,” he muttered. Harry felt a rush of pride at this, it sounded like Henry’s work. Marvolo glared at Ogden. “Do you support this?”

“That is neither here nor there, Mister Gaunt,” Ogden replied. “What matters is that this is the law and Morfin has broken it.”  Harry felt that it was a bit of a dodge, but given that he was talking to two hostile wizards and several snakes, he couldn’t say it wasn’t warranted. 

“Laws written by Muggle lovers and filth!” spat Marvolo. “See this? We can prove our descent from the Peverells!” Marvolo waved his hand, which was wearing a golden ring set with an ugly black stone, in front of Ogden’s face. 

“And this!” Marvolo further declared, storming over to Merope and grabbing a chain that hung around her neck. Dragging both chain and unwilling girl over to Ogden, he turned the chain to display a locket, heedless of the coughing girl. “The Locket of Slytherin! We’re his last known descendants!”

“Mr Gaunt, please! Your daughter!” Robert shouted, rushing over to the girl. Marvolo released the chain and Merope collapsed to the floor. Ogden knelt next to her, waving his wand in a bruise dispelling spell. Harry recognised it, he’d had it done to him often enough.

A clip clop of horses' hooves sounded outside. Harry caught a glimpse of a young man and woman, riding past on matching horses. “Tom, can’t you do something about that awful shack? It’s quite the eyesore.”

“We’ve tried, darling,” came a male voice. “But the tramp who lives there won’t even talk to us. Crazy man. I think my father is just waiting for the man to die, so we can make an offer to his children.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed. Ogden’s eyes flickered between Marvolo and his son, who both had their wands in hand. Merope looked like she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Marvolo looked incensed at the disparaging comment.

Morfin broke the silence. “ Darling, he calls her. He’d never look at you.” Harry repeated this to Dumbledore, his hand inching closer to his wand.

“What?” Marvolo said, in a rage. “What do you mean?”

“She hangs out the window, watching the pretty boy ride past, Father. Did he look so pretty once I covered him in boils?” Morfin sneered, glaring at his sister on the floor.

“My daughter, a pure blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, hankering after a filthy Muggle?” Marlovo raged at his daughter. He turned his wand towards her and started firing curses at Ogden and the girl. 

Darkness fell across Harry’s vision and he found himself back in Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore walked calmly back around the desk and resumed his seat. “Can you tell me of the last few sentences in the memory, Harry?”

Harry quietly translated the last few exchanges between the Gaunts. Dumbledore nodded, as if nothing the Gaunts had said surprised him. Harry wondered how many times Dumbledore had watched the memory, trying to make sense of the Parseltongue. After a long moment, Harry thought he should ask questions of his own.

“Headmaster? What happened after the end of the memory?”

Dumbledore looked at Harry contemplatively. “Robert Ogden was able to escape and quickly returned with a team of Aurors. Marvolo and Morfin were overcome and dragged before the Wizengamot. Both served time in Azkaban, Marvolo a year and Morfin three. Ironically, their attack on Merope was what earned them the harshest sentence.” 

Harry nodded, accepting the answer. “I have heard the name Marvolo before, in connection with Voldemort. Before he became Voldemort, I mean.”

Dumbledore smiled softly, his eyes resuming their usual twinkle. “And you have heard the name Tom, as well. In our little drama, we have seen Voldemort’s family – his grandfather Marvolo, his uncle Morfin, his mother Merope and the passing, pretty Muggle is undoubtedly Tom Riddle Senior, Voldemort’s father.”

Dumbledore rested his worn, withered hand on the desk, covering it with his other hand. “With her father and brother in Azkaban, Merope appears to have taken matters into her own hands. A few months later, Little Hangleton was abuzz with the news that Tom Riddle, the squire’s son, had absconded with Merope Gaunt, the tramp’s daughter.”

“How?” The query slipped from Harry’s lips before could stop it. “What could make Tom abandon his girl and family and run off with Merope?”

“An excellent question,” Dumbledore said. “What magic do you think she used?”

“The Imperius curse?” Harry wondered. “Maybe the Confundus charm?” His mind flashed back to his first Potions lesson of the year. “Or a love potion?”

“The Confundus charm would make the mind suggestible, but probably not to this extent,” Dumbledore said. “The Imperius Curse is more likely of the two spells, but I suspect a love potion. It would suit the girl’s more romantic notions and requires less effort over a longer time.”

“But to conclude our night, we will take our tale up to Voldemort’s birth. A few months after their marriage, Tom Riddle Senior returned to Little Hangleton and spoke little more of Merope. To those few he spoke to he suggested that he had been tricked, omitting any mention of magic. But he never troubled to learn of Merope, or the fate of the child she bore, to his eventual demise.”

Harry frowned. “He fought off the love potion?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “This is conjecture but I believe she stopped giving it to him. Perhaps she thought he might have truly grown to love her, or might stay for the sake of the child. As we know from Tom’s diary, Merope died in childbirth and Tom was raised in a Muggle orphanage.”

As Harry stood to go, he noticed that one of the many silver instruments held a golden ring with a cracked black stone. His memory recalled seeing it on Dumbledore’s hand during the summer, but he had seen it earlier that night as well. “Is that Marvolo’s ring?”

Dumbledore smiled broadly. “It is indeed. I acquired it over the summer. Most interesting it proved, as well. But we shall discuss that another night.”

Harry could hardly wait for Wednesday night to arrive. He had taken the time during a study period with Ron to update him on Dumbledore’s lesson of the night before. Given how much Ron seemed to be attached at the lips to Lavender, the study period where Lavender was in Divination and Hermione was in Ancient Runes was their best chance to catch up each week. 

Despite the feud between Ron and Hermione, Ron was still his friend.

After dinner, Harry and Hermione practically ran to their study room under Gryffindor tower. Hermione took charge, carefully laying out the various ingredients that they would need. 

The ritual consisted of two sets of circles, laid out next to each other along an east west axis. Each set was seven circles of runes, in different languages. Given that Harry had only a passing familiarity with even the most basic runes, it all looked like chaos to him. 

Around the two sets of circles was a single other ring of runes. This, Hermione assured him, was to focus the magic in the two other circles and prevent any discharge. She was going to be outside the final circle, safe from the potential backlash of magic. Since he was sure that Henry had done a similar ring around the whole setup when he did the ritual, it seemed a wise precaution. 

The ingredients were placed at random points around the two sets of circles. Correction, it seemed like the ingredients were randomly placed. Harry had made the mistake of saying this to Hermione when he had seen her plans for the circles and then had to endure a fifteen minute lecture about transitive properties of different magical items and how they corresponded to the various runes. After the lecture, Harry still didn’t understand why the ingredients were placed where they were, but Hermione seemed to feel better for having explained it.

Harry started just inside the outer ring, the one to protect Hermione. His focus was on the eastern set of rings, and he would have to charge each ring with magic as he passed through. As he charged each of the circles of the eastern set, the corresponding ring in the western set would charge as well. Once he reached the centre, with all the rings charged, he could complete the ritual.

“Blówan wræclíc stéora ceorlisc ofslean líðan feoh.” Harry read off a piece of paper, touching his wand to the outermost circle. The circle began to glow with a soft purple light and Harry was relieved to see that the corresponding circle in the other set was glowing as well. 

Crossing the lit circle, Harry walked a quarter turn widdershins around the next circle – for some reason, Hermione refused to let him call it anticlockwise – and touched his wand to the next circle.

”Wiccedóm hebban engel steór morðorhete lutan.”

The circle lit with a blue light, stronger than the purple light of the previous circle. A glance at the western set showed that the circles were still matching. He carefully stepped over the blue circle.

His heartbeat had picked up in anticipation but Harry was careful to walk back deosil for half the circle. While he had heard of the success of the ritual, he didn’t know what would happen if he messed it up.

“Scéotan wealcol leode frumbearn gebyrde,” he said, touching his wand to the third circle. It lit green as expected and he crossed to charge the next circle.

Following Hermione’s instructions, he charged the next few circles with the remaining colours of the rainbow. Standing outside the last remaining circle, he glanced over at the western set to see if the circles matched. Unfortunately the colours all seemed to blur, so Harry looked at Hermione, feeling slightly panicked.

Hermione saw his worried look and gave him a big smile and thumbs up. Taking that as a positive sign, he touched his wand to the final circle.

“Gelíðan!”

Now all the circles were lit with bright white light, so bright that Harry could no longer see Hermione, or anything outside the circle at all. 

Hoping desperately that nothing had gone wrong, Harry walked around the circle twice deosil, then crossed into the centre. In the exact centre of the circle stood a turquoise gemstone, glowing with the magic and light around it. Harry took a deep breath, then touched the gemstone with his right hand.

There was a vibration in the air, then the light faded. Harry stared at where the western circle should be trying in vain to clear the tears from his eyes. Eventually the spots faded to reveal Hermione.

Harry turned around, but he hadn’t gotten confused. Hermione had somehow been moved from outside the protective circle to the inside of the western circle, where his soulmate should be. 

“Hermione?”

Hermione had been trying to clear her eyes as well and looked as shocked as he felt.

“I’m so sorry Harry! I must have done something wrong in the ritual.” She was trembling as she spoke.

Harry felt a small rush of relief as she said it. For a moment there, he had thought, perhaps…

Hermione had given Harry hugs for many reasons over the years, but Harry had never felt fully comfortable doing the same. But this seemed like a good time to try. Crossing over the now inert circles, Harry hugged Hermione.

“I never would have even tried this without your help, Hermione. You’re the most brilliant witch I know. You’ll find the answer.”

Hermione was still trembling, but she wasn’t crying or screaming hysterically, so Harry counted it as a win. “You’re sure you pronounced every word correctly?’ she asked accusingly. ‘Old English can be very tricky, you know.”

Harry drew back, a touch affronted. “I’ve been hiding out in here all weekend to memorise my twenty eight words, Hermione. Once you stopped correcting my pronunciation, I figured I had it.”

Hermione started looking through her papers, eager to search for an answer, but a wave of fatigue told Harry just how late it had gotten. A quick tempus charm confirmed the time. Somehow between all the prep work and the ritual itself, curfew had snuck up on them.

“It’s getting late, Hermione. Go to bed. We can figure it out tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

“Wards,”  said Hermione as she slid into a seat across the table from Harry. It was the Saturday after the failed ritual attempt, and Harry was spending the Saturday lunch talking with the Hufflepuffs. Other than a single attempt by Snape to put him in detention for being at the wrong table, which Professor Sprout had overruled, no one else had seemed to object.

“Wards?” Ernie Mcmillan asked, sitting next to her. Harry tried to hide a smile, knowing that Hermione had probably ignored everything - including the Hufflepuffs - to tell him something she had discovered. 

Hermione’s planned lecture ground to a halt when she realised that Harry was sitting next to Hannah, and she had interrupted Harry talking about the use of non verbal counter curses. She took a moment to reset and reconsider her words. 

“I think the thing from Wednesday didn’t work because we’re under Hogwarts wards.” Hermione said, at an unusually slow, measured pace. Harry nodded, pretending he knew what the hell Hermione was talking about. Then it clicked. She was talking about the ritual.

He frowned, trying to work out a way of communicating what he wanted to say without tipping off the Hufflepuffs. “The two previous attempts probably also took place under wards.”

Hermione waved his objections away. “Minor, everyday wards. Hardly the Hogwarts wards in wartime.I think it is the major reason for our lack of success.”

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. Hannah gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, while Harry tried to work out a solution to the problem. Because something told him that he wasn’t going anywhere that wasn’t under wards for a while.

Without any solutions, he lifted his head from the table. “I don’t think they’re going to let me hang around somewhere without wards anytime soon. We might have to put it off until summer.” Even Privet Drive had blood wards, but he could possibly sneak over to Hermione’s for an hour or two. If she had somewhere suitable to set up, they could meet up and complete the ritual.

Hermione, to his surprise, had a brilliant smile waiting for him. “I have an idea about that. Since none of the ingredients were absorbed or spoiled, we can re use them for another attempt in a few weeks. Trust me?”

Harry nodded. “Always.”

The Hufflepuffs simply looked between the two of them, confused.

It wasn’t long before Harry found himself invited back to Dumbledore’s office to learn more about Tom Marvolo Riddle. This time, he didn’t go alone.

“For one, we have been told not to go alone through the castle.” Hermione was saying, as she walked with Harry to the Headmaster’s Office. “Secondly, while you’ve told me about what happened in the last memory, it’s conceivable that there may have been a minor detail that you may have missed which could prove useful down the line.” 

Harry nodded as he walked along. He had, in deference to the request that Harry come alone to Dumbledore’s Office, tried to persuade Hermione that her presence was unnecessary. He hadn’t tried very hard, because he knew it was a wasted effort, really. Once Hermione got it into her head that something needed to be done, nothing short of a detention was going to deter her.

They reached the familiar stone gargoyle and Harry said ‘Turkish Delight’, which had the gargoyle moving to let them pass. They walked up the stone staircase, and knocked briefly on the door, then entered. 

Professor Dumbledore was looking out the window when the two teens entered, and turned to greet them with his usual twinkle in his eye. “Welcome, Harry and Miss Granger. However, I believe the invitation was for Harry alone?”

“I thought my perspective may prove useful, Headmaster.” Hermione said simply, staring defiantly back at Dumbledore. “And it’s not like Harry won't tell me everything anyway.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry with an enquiring look, and Harry shrugged. Dumbledore seemed to accept that as an answer, and gestured to the Pensieve, which had once more taken pride of place on the desk. “Once more we shall visit memories of Tom before he became Lord Voldemort. This time, we shall find the memory quite rich in detail, as it is mine.”

With that, he touched a finger to the silvery surface, and Harry and Hermione were quick to join him. They found themselves in a busy London Street, following a much younger Dumbledore to a grim looking orphanage.

The younger Dumbledore enquired after Tom, and gently but firmly asked several probing questions about his behaviour, and Harry caught Hermione’s look of disapproval as Dumbledore used magic on Mrs Cole, the caretaker. He couldn’t say he approved too much either, but the woman was very sharp, and it’s not like Dumbledore had lots of options.

The memory continued with an interview with a young Tom Riddle, who was rather creepy, in Harry’s opinion. Possessive, arrogant and self assured, Harry couldn’t help but compare it to his own Hogwarts letter, five years ago. He had had none of Riddle’s confidence, and had tried to deny that he was anything special.

The memory ended, and they once more found themselves back in Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore pointed out how Riddle liked to operate alone, had no friends, and had resorted to charming people once the threat of force had failed. He mentioned how Riddle had fared at Hogwarts, how he had charmed all the teachers and quite a few classmates for his own gain.

Dumbledore seemed ready to dismiss them, but Hermione jumped in. “Why are you doing this? Why show Harry these memories?”

Dumbledore seemed shocked, but replied. “Miss Granger, I am simply trying to prepare Harry for the battle to come. According to the prophecy, he must be the one to kill Voldemort, and I am giving him the tools he needs.”

“No,” Hermione said simply, and Harry was so stunned by Hermione disagreeing with the Headmaster that he nearly fell out of his chair. “If you were preparing Harry for battle, you’d be teaching him magic to fight with. You’re trying to teach him something about Voldemort, something specific.”

Harry looked at Hermione, and realised that this was why she’d charged into the meeting. It wasn’t something about Voldemort she was after, it was something Dumbledore hadn’t told him.

Dumbledore looked at her over his half moon glasses, contemplatively. “I was planning on covering it after the Christmas holidays.” Dumbledore said quietly. “And planning on telling Harry alone.”

Harry laughed at that. “Unless it involves Quidditch, I’d need her help.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Undoubtedly. Tell me, have either of you heard of a Horcrux?” 

Harry looked at Hermione, but her face was as blank as his own. “I can’t say I have, sir. What subject would it be covered by?”

Dumbledore’s beard twitched in what Harry assumed was a smile. “Defence Against the Dark Arts, of course. But you should not have heard of it. I took great steps to remove all knowledge of such things from the Hogwarts library when I became Headmaster.”

“A Horcrux is an object in which someone has stored part of their soul.” Dumbledore began. “It is extraordinarily complex, but requires, among other things, a deliberate act of murder to sever the soul. Once severed, the fragment of soul can be stored in an object. The object is then rendered almost impossible to destroy.”

This started to make sense to Harry. “You think Voldemort made himself a Horcrux, and that’s why he didn’t die.”

“No,” Dumbledore said, his voice grim. “Do you remember what he said in the graveyard? Further than anyone along the path to immortality… I think he made  multiple Horcruxes. I am certain of it. You yourself have given me proof.”

“I did?” Harry said. He looked at Hermione, but she looked just as clueless as he felt.

“After your little trip to the Chamber of Secrets, you gave to me a diary that tried to possess Ginny Weasley. I believe it to have been a Horcrux. Not least because it required Basilisk venom to destroy it.” Dumbledore told him. 

“If that had been the only one, Voldemort would have truly died when the diary was destroyed.” Hermione said, looking eager to contribute to the discussion. “So there must be at least one more.”

Harry’s head jerked up, looking Dumbledore in the eye. “The ring. The one from Marvolo. Was it another Horcrux?”

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile. “Yes, it was. That is the other piece of good news. Voldemort placed it beneath the ruins of the Gaunt shack, and I was able to recover it and destroy the Horcrux.” He raised his darkened, withered right hand, wiggling his fingers stiffly. “For a price, unfortunately. Such is the nature of things.”

Harry’s mind was already working on the problem of Horcruxes. While it wasn’t quite as broad as Hermione’s, Harry wasn’t unintelligent, and five years of puzzling out mysteries at the threat of torture and death had given him no small measure of skill in working out practical problems. “What about the locket? Voldemort’s mother had it, did Voldemort get it after her death?”

Dumbledore smiled again. “Yes and no, Harry. It would appear that Merope sold the locket to Borgin and Burkes shortly before her death, desperate for money as she was. By a strange twist of fate, or perhaps design, Riddle himself worked there following his graduation from Hogwarts. In his role as a shop assistant, he called upon one Hepzibah Smith, who had purchased the locket some years before. What discussions they had we cannot know, but it seems likely that she showed off her two great treasures to him.”

“Two?” Harry said. “What else did she have?”

“Hepzibah Smith is notable as a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. Her relatives believe that she had a cup from Helga Hufflepuff in her possession, as well as the locket.” Dumbledore sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “It seems that both disappeared after her death, which seemed to happen due to a Potions mixup. She was a secretive woman, so by the time the artifacts were noticed as missing, Tom Riddle had resigned his position and left the country.”

Hermione half raised her hand, then lowered it. “You said someone had to be murdered to create a Horcrux. Could he have used her death to create a Horcrux?”

“And who did he kill to make the first two?” Harry added. But his mind had kept going in mystery solving mode, and answered his own question. “Myrtle for the diary? Since Riddle was sixteen in the Chamber, was he still in Hogwarts when he made the first one?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I think Myrtle was indeed used to make the first Horcrux. The diary is less magically important than our other possibilities, but perhaps that was all he had to hand at the time.”

“Or it was intended to be more concealable.” Hermione offered.

“Quite so,” Dumbledore said. “The murder of his Muggle father, which happened at the end of his fifth year, was possibly used to create the second Horcrux. It was then he stole the ring from his uncle Morfin, framing him for the murder. He was definitely wearing it during his sixth year.”

Harry frowned. “Did no one suspect Voldemort of the other murders? His father’s, or Hepzibah Smith?” He knew that only Dumbledore had suspected Riddle of Myrtle’s murder.

Dumbledore shook his head. “There were easily acceptable reasons for each death. Only with the hindsight of what Voldemort became does murder seem more likely.”

SIlence fell over the office. Hermione was the first to break the silence. “So we don’t know exactly how many Horcruxes have been made, but we suspect at least four. We have an idea about what they are, but have no idea where the other two are. Does that sum up what we need to know?”

Dumbledore nodded. “A succinct summary, Miss Granger.” He paused, and looked at the two of them. “I know you are very busy, but I am afraid I must ask for more from you. Horace Slughorn was Tom Riddle’s Head of House for his years at Hogwarts. If Tom confided in anyone about his quest for immortality and his plan for multiple Horcuxes, it would have been him. While I asked him about it, he brushed me off. But for you, his favorite students…”

Dumbledore’s voice trailed off, sounding weary. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. Harry had noticed more and more this year that Dumbledore seemed old, as if the many years of fighting was too much for him. 

Hermione was shaking her head. “I’m not sure we have that much influence, Professor. If he refused you, I doubt Harry or I could do much more.”

Dumbledore winced at her statement. “All I ask is that you try, Harry.”

Hermione seemed oddly excited by the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. This close to Christmas, It seemed as if the whole castle had forgotten about the looming war. People were planning on doing their Christmas shopping, and talking about their plans for the holidays. Harry had been invited to the Burrow to spend Chrtistmas with the Weasleys, and he knew Hermione was going home to spend Christmas with her parents.

Harry had a mental list of people to buy gifts for. He was planning on buying small gifts for his new friends in Hufflepuff, as well as the Weasleys and the Quidditch team. He had no idea what to get Hermione, who had proven herself to be such a good friend over the last few months. But hopefully Hogsmede would give some hints.

They rode down in a carriage with Ginny and Dean, who were more interested in each other than Harry or Hermione. Ron had excused himself to ride with Lavender Brown and the Patil twins, like a good boyfriend. Ginny asked if they wanted to meet up at the Three Broomsticks later, but Hermione suggested that they might be occupied. Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione, trying to imitate Professor McGonagall. But Hermione was unaffected. 

No sooner had the carriages stopped in Hogsmeade than Hermione was pulling him through the village, her hand like an iron shackle on his wrist. It was all Harry could do to keep up with her, focusing on not face planting on the snowy ground. After a brief march, they came to the Shrieking Shack, and Hermione wasted no time in pulling Harry inside.

 Harry stood in the doorway, looking over the once ruined room where he had first met Sirius Black. Someone had come through recently and changed everything. The broken furniture had vanished, the walls stripped bare. The floor, which had housed several unidentifiable stains, had been restored until it looked almost brand new. The only thing that had remained the same was the boarded up windows.

And covering the floor was two sets of circles with very familiar symbols written in them

For a long moment, it was all Harry could do to gape at the sight before him. He had known how much effort Hermione had put into creating the original set for the ritual. For her to duplicate that effort in a short period of time was nothing short of heroic.

“How on earth did you do this?”

Hermione smiled at him. “To work out what runes to use, how to build the ritual in the first place took most of the time when I first drew it. I simply asked for help duplicating it here.”

With a small pop, Fizzy appeared in the room. “Miss Hermione asked Fizzy to replicate the ritual here. Fizzy can’t read the runes, but Fizzy doesn’t need to know what it says to draw it.”

Harry looked from one to the other. He’d had an inkling, when they had first met Fizzy at Godric’s Tor, that the two of them were not people to cross. It was slightly stunning to see them realise their potential.

Hermione spoke. “I checked it over yesterday. It’s a replica of the set in Hogwarts, with some minor adjustments for the change in date. I’m sure you noticed we’ve left off the outermost shield circle. If the wards were the issue, we should be okay.”

Harry stared at her. “How did you get out here yesterday?”

Hermione shrugged. “Secret passage and a Disillusionment Charm. Wasn’t hard.” For a moment, it was all Harry could do not to gape at her. This was a far cry from the Hermione of first year, where she’d feared death and expulsion after one trip post curfew.

After recovering from his shock, Harry pulled out a scrap of parchment, revising the Old English words to recite for the ritual. After about fifteen minutes of reciting the words to himself, he nodded to Hermione. “Let's do this.”

As before, he carefully walked through the ritual. As before, the circles lit up in colour as he crossed them, and Harry reached the centre circle. Without hesitation, he touched the gem in the middle, and the light flashed to overwhelming brightness.

And as before, the light cleared to find Hermione standing in the second circle. 

There was a mild look of surprise on her face, but she was a lot more focussed this time. “Okay, so it wasn’t the wards.” 

Harry took a moment to look around him in mock astonishment. “I think you’re right.” 

Hermione glared at him, carefully stepping over the circles towards him. “I’m going to check the pronunciation of those words next. If I wrote something wrong, it may be the reason why.” She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket, reading something. Harry realized, without surprise, that Hermione had made a list of possible reasons why the ritual had the same result. 

Something on the list gave her pause. She stared at it for a long moment, then her eyes met his. “Harry,” she began slowly. “Have you considered…”

Her question was interrupted by a piercing scream from somewhere in Hogsmeade. Whatever Hermione was asking him to consider was forgotten as the two of them ran for the door, wands drawn.

The piercing, drawn out scream was still going as Harry and Hermione raced through the streets of Hogsmeade. Most people they saw were running away from the scream, ducking into doorways and Apparating away. Harry and Hermione were alone in running towards the disturbance.

In the churned up snow near the Three Broomsticks they came upon the source of the disturbance. Pravati Patil was lying in the snow, screaming and shaking. Her twin sister and Lavender Brown clung to each other just out of arm's reach, both crying. Ron stood nearby, standing with his wand out trying to see everything.

“Ron!” Harry shouted as he skidded to a halt, “what’s going on?” 

“Harry, she touched a necklace, I think it’s cursed.” Ron rattled off. “We need to get her to the hospital wing.”

Hermione started casting spells on Parvati, in different multicoloured lights. Harry took a moment to try and recover his breath, thinking hard. For a moment, he nearly called Fizzy, since the house elf might be able to get Parvati to Pomfrey without delay. The long summer of trying to hide Fizzy’s existence stopped him.

But Harry knew more than one house elf. He wasn’t sure where the Patil’s were on the blood status checklist, and Kreacher hadn’t exactly proven himself reliable by helping kill Sirius. So he went with another option.

“Dobby!” called Harry.

With a pop, Dobby popped into existence nearby. “How may Dobby help?”

“Parvati Patil has been cursed and needs to go to the hospital wing right away,” said Harry in a rush. “Check back with me once you’re done.”

With a pop, Dobby popped away with Parvati. The sudden silence was jarring, and caused both of the girls to look up in surprise. “Where has she gone?” choked out Padma.

“Hospital Wing,” said Harry quickly. Hermione had gone over to Padma and was helping her stand. “What happened?” he repeated himself

“Paravati picked up this necklace somewhere.” Ron said quietly. Following Ron's eyes, Harry spotted a necklace amongst the churned up snow near his feet. With a start, Harry realised Ron was protecting everyone from it, something Harry probably would have done in his place.

Maybe Ron would make a good Auror, after all.

Taking his scarf from around his neck, he wrapped his hands in it and gently lifted the necklace from the snow, taking extreme care not to touch it to his bare skin. After a long moment, he recognised it. “This is from Borgin and Burkes. It was on display four years ago, and it killed 5 Muggle owners.”

Hermione came over to where Ron and Harry were standing. “Are you sure?”

Harry gave her a small shrug. “Unless there are two of them. But it gives the Aurors a place to start.” Hermione shivered, and Harry realised that she had given her coat to Padma.

Dobby popped back in, and Harry gave him his next instruction. “This necklace is the cause of Paravti’s curse, Dobby. Take it up to the castle and give it to…” His mind blanked as he tried to think of the best person. He didn’t know if Tonks was on duty…

“Snape.” Cut in Hermione. “Take it to Professor Snape, and make sure you don’t touch it. Tell Professor Snape the same before you let him take it.” 

Dobby nodded grimly and clicked his fingers. Harry’s scarf and the necklace disappeared, and Dobby followed with a small pop. Hermione gently pushed Ron towards Lavender, who cuddled up to him. After a moment, Ron swapped his coat for Lavender’s damp one, which she seemed to appreciate. 

Feeling chivalrous, Harry handed his own coat over to Hermione. With three coats and five teenagers, it was an easy choice to have the witches be warm. He had a reputation to uphold as the consummate Gryffindor, after all. Hermione gave him a long look, but didn’t say anything. 

The five teenagers started a long walk up towards the school. They didn’t talk at all, but the wind picked up, making Harry miss his coat and scarf. They were met in the Entrance Hall by Professor McGonagall. 

“Miss Patil, your sister has already been taken to St Mungo’s.” Professor McGonangall said. “Once you have given your statement to an Auror, I would like you to accompany me to discuss the situation with your parents.” Padma followed a female Auror out of the room. Two more red robed figures waited expectantly.

“Potter and Weasley, go with Williamson and give him your statements.” McGonagall continued. “Savage, you will take Miss Granger and Miss Brown.”

“Professor,” Hermione cut in. “We sent the cursed object to Professor Snape. Did he get it? It cursed Parvati with only a touch, so he needs to be careful.”

McGonagall nodded. “Good thinking, Miss Granger. He took the object with Miss Patil to St Mungos. The elf passed along your warning.”

Harry and Ron followed Williamson to a classroom that had been converted to a break room for the patrolling Aurors. It had a few couches in it and was clean, but was still pretty basic.

Williamson waved Harry and Ron to the couches, and took out a quill and parchment. He tapped both with his wand, then said. “Statement from Harry Potter and Ron Weasley about Hogsmeade Incident, date. Auror Williamson questioning.”

Harry watched as the quill dutifully noted down the Aurors words. Williamson himself checked the parchment before continuing. “What happened? Please make sure to speak clearly so the quill can record.”

Harry waved at Ron, sinking back into the couch. “I missed the first part, only arriving after Parvati was already cursed. Go ahead Ron.”

Ron began, talking about how he’d gone into Hogsmeade with Lavender and the Patil twins. He and Lavender had split from the twins and gone to Madam Puddifoots tea shop for a drink. They had wandered the streets of Hogsmeade for a while after that, looking in different shops. They had met up with the twins again outside the Three Boomsticks, where Parvati had already gotten the necklace. 

The twins had gotten into a fight over the package, as Paravati had refused to tell Padma where she had gotten the package or where it was going. It had torn, and the necklace had fallen free. It had touched Parvati, and she had screamed, continuously and scarily.

Harry explained that he and Hermione had been together elsewhere in Hogsmeade, heard the scream and came running. He explained that he had called on a house elf he was familiar with to get Parvati to the hospital wing, and get the cursed object to Snape.

“I think I saw that necklace in Borgin and Burke’s four years ago.” Harry concluded. “It was pretty memorable, and it gives you a place to start.”

Williamson looked at Harry sternly. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m just telling you everything I know. What you do with that information is up to you.”

Williamson sneered at Harry. “Word is you want to be an Auror yourself. That you’ve investigated things by yourself here at Hogwarts. This is a Auror’s job, not a job for school children”

Harry shrugged, feeling exhausted. If he could have trusted the adults to investigate things, his time at Hogwarts would have been a lot quieter. About the only time they’d investigated without it being absolutely necessary was when they disguised themselves as Crabbe and Goyle and snuck into the Slytherin Common room. 

And they’d really only done that because they were afraid Hermione would be killed by the monster. So it was kind of necessary, really.

Taking their silence as acceptance, Harry and Ron were waved back to their common room. They had barely entered when Lavender and Hermione came in behind them. Hermione gently guided a teary Lavender up the stairs to their dorm, leaving Harry and Ron by themselves in the common room.

Before they could decide on what to do, Hermione came back down the steps in a rush, marching over to Harry and Ron with a determined look in her eye. “She’s getting changed,” Hermione began. “So we don’t have long to talk.”

Hermione grabbed the front of Ron’s robes, and pulled his head closer to hers. Harry was shocked for a moment, until Hermione began again. “She has just seen her best friend taken to hospital, Ronald, so you need to make sure that from now you are the very model of a boyfriend, understand?”

Ron nodded, looking a little stunned. It was all Harry could do not to nod along. Hermione was being scary.

“You will spend as much time with her as you possibly can, ask her about her feelings, give her a shoulder to cry on as she needs it.” Hermione continued. “I know you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon, but now you need to step up and find more depth, Ron. If you make me have this conversation with you again, you will regret it. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Ron stammered. “Sure”

Hermione released Ron, and he immediately went and waited by the stairs from the girls dorm. As he reached the bottom, Lavender came down and flung herself into his arms. There were no passionate kisses, just simple cuddling as Lavender cried. 

Despite the lack of kisses, Harry still felt a twinge of jealousy. It was so simple for them. Date and cuddle and kiss. Be there for each other. No quest to find an impossible soulmate, no Chosen one, no prophecy of doom.

Hermione came to stand by him, looking at Ron as well. “I didn’t know you cared.” Harry said quietly. Hermione had always been dismissive of Lavender, even more so since she’d started dating Ron. 

“Parvati won’t be coming back.” Hermione said with quiet finality. “She said it was a big struggle to convince her parents to come this year in the first place.”Once she’s out of hospital, they’ll be leaving for India.”

Harry winced at that. So many people were relying on him, and he was no closer to stopping Voldemort than he’d ever been.

“There’s only two of us left in the dorm.” Continued Hermione, who was unaware of Harry’s thoughts. “Sally Anne left after second year, and Sophie left after third year. Now Parvati’s gone as well. I’m not suggesting we need to start telling Lavender everything, but she’s going to be around us more. Getting Ron to help comfort her can only help her.”

Harry wondered if Hermione was using Ron to comfort Lavender so she wouldn’t have to. Then he wondered if there was anything he should do… Then he swore internally.

He’d never done his Christmas shopping.

He and Hermoine had planned to ask Slughorn after their next Potions class about Horcruxes. Slughorn made this easy by asking them to stay back after class himself.

“I need a favour, m’boy.” began Slughorn. 

Harry looked at Hermione at this. This could be a lot simpler than they’d imagined. 

“I’m planning a Christmas Party, and I need you to be there. There’s going to be guests, all kinds of important people. They will be the sort of people you need to work with in the future, so you will greatly benefit from meeting them.” Slughorn said, looking earnestly at Harry. “It will be good for the school, too.”

Harry was unable to stop himself from groaning. Being shown off at a party was a terrible idea. Slughorn chuckled heartily. “I know people compare you to your parents.  But that reaction was classic Fleamont. As long as he had his Potions lab, and Effie he was a happy man. It was only on her insistence they did any social events at all. “

Harry looked up at Slughorn. “Did you attend any?” As much as he needed information about Horcruxes, he was always willing to hear about his family.

“A few” Slughorn admitted. “I was always welcome, since Fleamont could always talk about his latest experiments with me. But I was the Potions Professor, and couldn’t always drop my work here to attend. But he was always happy to accept a recommendation of an up and coming talent to be his next apprentice.”

Hermione nudged him, and Harry realised they were getting off topic.  “I’ll attend, Professor. In return, what did you tell Tom Riddle about Horcruxes?”

Slughorn looked at Harry, fidgeting a little. “What has Dumbledore told you?”

Harry hesitated at that. Knowledge of the Horcruxes was supposed to be very limited, if only to prevent Voldemort knowing what they were after. “That he looked at making one , and probably did.”

Slughorn shook his head. “I’m afraid the only time Tom broached the subject with me, I told him to go talk to Professor Merrythought, the Defence teacher at the time.  The Dark Arts have never held any appeal for me, I’m afraid.”

“Nor I” said Harry quietly. “I have enough nightmares as it is.”

Slughorn smiled sympathetically at him. “Is there anything else you want as a favour, Harry? Some new dress robes, perhaps?”

Harry shook his head. He still had his ones from fourth year, and he was sure that Hermione or even Lavender knew a spell to make sure they fit.

“Professor, why do you invite Ginny to your meetings and not Ron?” Harry began,trying to work out the Professor’s motivations a little.

Slughorn gave him an evaluative look before replying. “There is a certain set of people who swear by the number seven in magic. Once upon a time, older families tried to have seven sons, and there are several old stories about seventh sons being powerful wizards.”

Harry looked at Hermione, who had a pensive look on her face. She’d probably heard about it then.

“The Weasleys may not have seven sons, but Ginny is the first girl born  to the Weasleys in a couple of centuries, and the seventh child. I was simply wondering if there was any truth to the stories.” Slughorn went on. “The girl is certainly talented, although not in Potions, I’m afraid.”

Harry wondered if Lucius Malfoy had been thinking the same thing when he gave her the diary. Possibly.

“Ronald simply is indistinguishable from his older brothers and cousins, who are major talents in their own right. Even those twins have managed to run a successful business.”

Harry, whose gold financed that successful business, simply smiled. “How many of the others earned Special Awards for Services to the School at thirteen?”

Slughorn chortled at that. “None, I imagine.”

“Ron wants to be an Auror.” said Harry quietly. “Not because of any grand plans or dreams, but simply because I plan on joining the Aurors to survive. He plans on watching my back, just like he always has.”

Slughorn nodded. “I don’t think you need to have your back watched at my parties, m’boy. That’s what a date is for. But I’ll invite him, if you wish. Noble, to ask for such a favour.”

It was all Harry could do not to groan again. Getting a date was going to be as bad as the Yule Ball.

Chapter Text

“You had better get a date quickly, Harry.” Hermione was saying as the party neared. “Some of the girls are talking about love potions.” 

Harry groaned. They had met up in their ritual room to discuss everything, and somehow the topic of the party had come up. “Can you be my date?”

Hermione looked at him. “I think you’re missing the point, Harry. This isn’t some tortuous task this time. It’s an opportunity!”

Harry looked at her smiling face, trying to process her words. She might have started speaking Old English for all the sense she was making. “What do you mean, Hermione?”

She waved her hand towards his list, six names on the wall. “Pick one of them and ask them to the party. Dance a little, get to know them a bit better. If you hit it off, sneak a kiss in. It’s perfect!”

Harry stared at her as if she’d just told him he’d been hit too hard by the troll in their first year and everything since had been a convoluted dream. Because right now, that made more sense.

“What about the ritual?”

Hermione waved her hand at him. “I think I’ve got a plan. I need to find a ghost who can both speak modern English and Old English, and help me make sure the pronunciation is correct. That might take a while. Nick is asking around for me.”

 She fixed her eyes on Harry. “If you can find the right girl, Harry, we won’t even need the ritual. I’ve already asked Justin to go with me, anyway.”

Harry looked at his shortlist, his stomach twisting with anxiety. Susan, Tracy, Hannah, Ginny, Luna and Katie. For all his thoughts about his soulmate over the last few months, he hadn’t added to the list. He looked over at Hermione, wondering if he should find someone to add to make it a nice round seven. Slughorn had said seven was the most magical number, after all.

“You still need to move quickly, though. Neville’s already asked Luna to the party.”

“Really?” Harry asked. He hadn’t noticed that Neville had an attraction to Luna. “As a friend, or a more romantic interest?”

“As a friend, I think.” Hermione said, her attention on a book in front of her. “But there’s two on your list who are going with other people, since Ginny will be going with Dean.”

“Three,” said Harry quietly. “Katie is going with Cormac McLaggan.” Half his list was gone, and he wasn’t about to ask Tracy Davis from Slytherin without half of the DA watching his back. “I’d better chat with Susan and Hannah tonight. Hopefully one of them is free.”

True to his word, that evening Harry went over to the Hufflepuffs. Feeling nervous, he sat on the bench opposite Susan and Hannah, between Ernie and Justin. “Could I ask for a favour?”

Ernie took a swig of pumpkin juice. “Sure, Harry. What do you need?”

Harry shook his head. “I was wondering if one of the girls wanted to go with me to Slughorn’s party?” Harry said hopefully

Silence fell. Immediately beyond their section of table, Harry was aware of the Hufflepuffs down the table looking at him, some even standing up to see what was going on. Mentally Harry cursed himself for doing this in public, but he needed to line up his date as soon as possible.

“One of us?” Hannah said with a small squeak

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. The Sorting Hat keeps talking about cooperation between houses. You’ve all been pretty good to me this year, so I thought I’d ask.” Harry didn’t know much about girls, but even he knew better than to mention that Gryffindor was running out of girls. Hermione and Lavender were the only ones left in their dorm, and both were going to the party already.

Susan looked at him, her eyes shining. “I’m already going with Ernie,” she said, as a sly smile crept across her face. “But Hannah would be delighted to accompany you.” She nudged Hannah as she spoke. Hannah blushed red. 

“If it’s not too much trouble?” Harry said, addressing Hannah hopefully.

“Okay.” Hannah said in a quiet voice. Harry hoped she wasn’t getting a crush on him. It had taken years for Ginny to get over hers.

“Do you need robes or anything?” Harry asked, anxious to seal the deal. Hannah shook her head in response. Harry smiled. “I’ll pick you up, okay?” Hannah nodded, still a bit wide eyed. Harry tried not to look at anyone else, since he knew they were likely the center of attention to the Hufflepuff table at the very least. 

Harry left for the Gryffindor table, as the murmurs and gossip filled the Great Hall

Lavender Brown had never really been someone Harry had called a friend over his years at Hogwarts. She had been around, had been very sympathetic when Trenalway had predicted his death in their third year, and had steadfastly refused to believe Voldemort had returned the previous year. Harry knew that her grades were fairly average, and that she was happy simply passing her subjects.

But Harry hadn’t realised that the girl was a genius when it came to charming clothes. And she seemed to have taken it personally that Harry was going to rewear his old dress robes from the Yule Ball.

Aside from resizing his robes, and adding a red trim, she had also taken it on herself to coordinate with Hannah, who had mysteriously ended up with red robes with a green trim. Personally, Harry thought the whole ensemble was too Chrismassy, but Lavender had put so much effort into it, Harry couldn’t find it in his heart to object. Hannah looked mildly amused by the contrast, but didn’t object either when he and Hermione joined the four Hufflepuffs to go to Slughorn's party. 

The party was taking place in Slughorn’s office, and Harry’s group entered what must have been an enlarged space. Several chandeliers lit the room, which was covered in Christmas decorations. Harry surreptitiously looked for mistletoe, but didn’t spot any. A string quartet stood in one corner, providing music for the mostly empty dance floor. The other end of the room contained food, and more people who were nibbling at things. A couple of house elves moved through the room, carrying trays of butterbeer.

“Harry!” exclaimed Slughorn, making a beeline for him. “Come here for a moment, there’s some people you need to meet!”

Harry was promptly dragged off for a whirlwind meet and greet with various notable names. He turned down an offer of a biography, and was asked at least six times about what he wants to do after Hogwarts. He felt that he held his own against Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, who told him in no uncertain terms that no matter how good a Seeker he was, he would never be recruited to join the all girls team. Harry replied that he was quite happy with that, really.

He was more interested to meet with Gwain Robards, who explained briefly about the aptitude tests that Aurors go through. He nearly asked if he could take his Invisibility Cloak to the stealth and tracking exam, before remembering where he was. He did mention his experience with the Philosopher's Stone traps, comparing it to the Battle Instinct test, hoping for a hint that didn’t come.

Eventually Harry escaped from Slughorn and makes his way back to his friends, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Luna. The group had moved two small tables together, and was talking together. Surprisingly, Ginny was the first one to talk to him

“Harry, what were you talking with Gwenog Jones about? Is she looking for players?” Even over the music, Harry could hear the desperate need in her voice.

“Well, we talked a bit about Quidditch,” said Harry lightly. “She’s heard how good I am on a broom, and suggested a Potions regime which will allow me to play for her. I told her I’d consider it.”

Ron’s face looked a little green at the thought, and Ginny stared at him, her expression uncertain. Harry couldn’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing. 

“Go chat to her yourself, Ginny. I’m not joining the Harpies anytime soon.”

Ginny took his advice and headed off, dragging Dean with her. Harry took a seat next to Hannah, who pushed over a plate of food. Harry started eating carefully, noticing that the pheasant from the train was on the menu. Maybe it was one of Slughorn’s favourites? The rest of the group seemed happy to talk between themselves, letting Harry have a chance to eat after being harangued.

Hermione was sitting across from him, talking with Justin Finch Fletchly about their experiences in getting their Hogwarts letters. Justin was repeating his story about magically fixing the vase that he’d told Harry months ago. Hermione seemed a little awkward talking about life before Hogwarts, Harry knew it was a sore spot for her. She’d been pretty alone and friendless.

Still better than his life before Hogwarts, though.

Hannah poked him, and Harry turned to look at her. She waved towards the dance floor which was filling up, and Harry took the hint, offering her his arm like a gentleman. They followed Susan and Ernie over to the dance floor, which had begun to fill with people.

Harry hadn’t had much experience dancing. He had only danced a single dance with Parvati at the Yule Ball, two years earlier. He hadn’t attended a lot of parties, preferring to avoid them since he was always the centre of attention. So he’d never picked up the ability.

Hannah didn’t seem to mind. Her face lit up with a smile, and she deftly led Harry around the dance floor. To Harry’s surprise, he saw Ron and Lavender out on the dance floor as well. Susan gave Hannah a wink as they passed, and Harry realised that for once, he was having fun.

The next song was a little faster, and Harry found himself passed off to Susan. He complimented her golden dress robes, and she didn’t mock his lack of dancing skills. Harry was surprised to see that Justin had managed to get Hermione out on the dance floor. There were more couples out on the dance floor, but Harry managed to steer Susan so that they stayed in close proximity to their friends. Slughorn’s comments about having someone to watch his back had made him a little paranoid.

The swapping continued, and Harry found himself dancing with Hermione. He had caught her looking wistfully at Ron and Lavender, and nudged her to try and cheer her up. She put her head into his chest as a slow song started, and Harry just held her as the music swirled around them. He knew, without asking that she was envious of the other couple. 

Tired, Harry rejoined his friends who had taken a break. Hannah surprised him by telling everyone a story of the founding of Godric’s Hollow, where seven wizarding families had banded together to found the village a thousand years ago. Of the seven families, only the Potters and the Abbots had survived in the male line. Harry wondered what that meant. He’d have to ask Hermione later.

Once everyone had rested, and had dessert, they danced again. This time Hannah stuck with Harry, complimenting him on his (slightly) improved dancing skills. They went through three more songs together, and ended with a slow one. Harry could spot Ginny with Dean, Hermione with Justin, Luna and Neville, Ron and Lavender.

The party broke up, and Harry started to feel panicky. Wasn’t there supposed to be mistletoe here somewhere? But he joined Hermione and the Hufflepuff quartet as they walked back down to the Hufflepuff common room. The other three entered through the barrel, leaving Harry and Hannah together, Hermione just outside the door.

“I had a really good time tonight, Harry.” Hannah said, smiling at him.

“I did too,” said Harry awkwardly. Hannah was looking at him, and was he supposed to kiss her now? Was she really his soulmate? Or was he just reading too much into a thousand years of shared family history? 

Sensing his hesitation, Hannah leaned up and kissed him… on the cheek.

She turned and disappeared into the Hufflepuff dorms, leaving Harry standing there. Collecting himself, he rejoined Hermione outside the room.

“Did you kiss her?” Hermione asked Harry as they walked back up the stairs. Harry had already checked the Map to avoid a patrolling Snape. He couldn’t trust Snape not to refuse his excuse of being out after curfew and give both of them detention.

“No,” Harry said shortly. He was feeling more and more like an idiot with each step he climbed. 

Hermione seemed to understand that Harry didn’t want to talk about it, so she let him be silent all the way up to Gryffindor tower. As she went to climb the steps to her dorm, she turned and looked at Harry. “It was a good party, regardless. Merry Christmas, Harry.”

Harry went up to his own dorm. He knew he’d be kicking himself for the missed opportunity for a while.

Christmas Day found Harry at the Burrow. They’d taken the Floo to the Burrow the day after the party, and four days later found himself sitting down to the Christmas lunch with the Weasleys.

He’d enlisted Dobby’s help to buy Christmas presents after the disastrous Hogsmeade trip. For Dobby himself, he’d asked Fizzy to find a suitable pair of socks at Godric’s Tor. A pair of socks with the Potter family crest on them made the elf cry happily.

He’d brought presents for Ron and Ginny, new books about their favourite Quidditch teams. Books on Muggle tricks and pranks for Fred and George. A book on France for Bill, and one on Britain for Fleur.

He hadn’t bothered with anything for Percy, which he considered justified after hearing that he’d sent back his Weasley jumper unopened. He’d gotten Molly a new pie dish, and Arthur a Muggle first aid kit, which he’d enjoyed pulling apart.

He hadn’t forgotten his friends. He’d sent a book on cryptids to Luna, some plants from his greenhouse to Neville. Chocolates to the four Hufflepuffs. He’d debated changing Hannah’s present after she’d accepted going to the party with him, but he didn’t want to commit to anything. 

His worries over what to get for Hermione proved groundless. In the end, choosing a present for Hermione had been easy.

Bill had gotten Fleur some goblin made earrings, enchanted to shine brightly if anyone tried any kind of mind magic on her. Upon hearing that, Harry had immediately ordered a pair for Hermione. They would help protect her by warning her if anyone was trying to read her mind. Since she knew all his secrets, it was worth it to protect them. 

He just hoped that no one, especially Hermione, found out exactly how much they’d cost. But protecting Hermione was worth all his gold and then some. And he knew she’d like the sapphire ones he picked out.

With Fizzy’s help, he’d had all his presents wrapped and put the ones for the Weasleys under the tree. He sent off the presents for his friends via owl, keeping only Hermione's earrings. He’d had Fizzy drop them off on Christmas Day morning. He’d also gotten Dobby to get Fizzy some new cookbooks, which she delved into with a squeal of delight. 

Harry had received plenty of presents too. His traditional Weasley jumper had a Golden Snitch on the front. Fred and George had given him a big box of WWW things. Ron and Ginny had bought him a big box of sweets. Ernie and Justin had sent chocolates in return. Susan had sent a Auror training manual, and Hannah had sent him his own copy of the history of Godric’s Hollow. Harry already had a copy, but it was a nice thought.

Christmas lunch however, was interrupted.

“It’s Percy!” Mrs Weasley's shout came as Percy Weasley popped in at the front gate via Apparition. But he wasn’t alone. The other man walking up the path beside him was recognisable as Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.

Immediately Harry looked around, feeling slightly panicky. What secrets did he have that he needed to hide from the Ministry? Should he hide? No, the Ministry had been stationing Aurors at the Burrow for his protection, they knew where he was. Which only left…

“Fizzy!” said Harry urgently. “Hide yourself and anything from home!”

Fizzy disappeared, along with the portrait of the painted Potters, who had been enjoying watching the Christmas lunch. Just in time, as Percy walked in the door, followed by Rufus Scrimgeour. 

Mrs Weasley immediately hugged Percy, who stood still as he surveyed his family. His lack of a smile put Harry on alert and his fingers found his wand.

“Would you like something to eat or drink, Minister?” Arthur Weasley offered. His wand was already out to summon something for his boss.

“No thank you Arthur,” said Scrimgeour. His eyes darted all over the room finally resting on Harry. “We won’t be stopping in for that long, I’m afraid. Perhaps I could borrow Mr Potter for a moment?”

Harry wanted to refuse. He could tell that people expected him to refuse. Mr Weasley looked worried, possibly worried that his job was on the line. Percy stared at Harry, silently judging him for his lack of immediate obedience. 

“Sure, said Harry, standing. “Perhaps outside?” He checked his wand and followed the Minister out onto the front porch.

Outside the Burrow, Harry looked out on the winter snow, waiting for the Minster to speak. He was under no illusions as to why Scrimgeour was here, he wanted something from Harry.

“Mr Potter.” Rufus Scrimgeour said. “I would like for you to assist me in a press conference, stating that the Ministry is doing a good job.”

“No.” Harry said. It seemed a simple enough answer.

“No?” Scrimgeour said. “Why on earth not?”

“Because you’re not doing a good job. That would be a lie.” And I must not tell lies , thought Harry bitterly at the end.

“What makes you qualified to pass judgement on the Ministry?” Rufus said loudly.

“I’m not. But if you’re asking me to speak about my experiences with the Ministry, then I would have to say the Ministry is not doing a good job.” Harry said.

“Would you prefer to hand the country over to the Dark Lord?” Rufus said snidely

Harry wished someone else was here. Dumbledore, McGonagall. Someone with the authority to shut the minister down. But when had there ever been an adult when he needed one?

How would Henry Potter have handled this?

He remembered Charlus speaking of finding common cause with the Black family. Maybe he could try that.

“I don’t, obviously. For the simple fact is that you and I would both be dead.” Harry said. “But maybe, you should try and consider my point of view.”

Scrimgeour frowned at him. “Your point of view?”

Harry nodded. “I spent the first half of this year and most of the last being slandered in the press.” He began. “At first it was just Rita looking for a story, but then Fudge took it and ran with it, making me a running joke to the world because he couldn’t face the truth.”

“I am not Fudge.” The Minister said quietly

“No.” agreed Harry. “But the end result was that people turned on me.” He waved back towards the family inside the Burrow. “Percy Weasley is a good example. I’ve known him since I was eleven. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a friend, but he’s been there. I’ve spent most of my summers with his family. I saved his sister from a basilisk. And because of Fudge’s need to discredit me, he turned on me, condemned me publicly and encouraged the rest of his family to do the same.”

He looked Scrimgeour in the eye as he said softly. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Scrimgeour, to his credit, did not look away. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, a celebrity. You should expect some public scorn from time to time.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “The Boy Who Lived. The orphan whose parents died that I might live. My best source of moral support in the middle of everything was my godfather, who was in hiding because he escaped from Azkaban. Serving a sentence for a crime he didn’t commit, unable to prove his innocence because he was sent there without a trial.” Although Harry hadn’t raised his voice, he was struggling to remain calm. “So I’m sure you can understand that I might be a little sensitive to people being sent to Azkaban without a trial. Like Stan Shunpike.”

“All that happened before I was Minister. You cannot expect to judge me for the sins of my predecessors." Scrimgeour said.

“But you’re making the same mistakes!” Harry said hotly. “What role does Dolores Umbridge have in the Ministry right now?”

“She remains Senior Undersecretary and holds a seat on the Wizengamot.” Scrimgeour admitted. “I know you and her had your differences…”

“No, Minister. Having differences is disagreeing over what to have for Christmas lunch.” Harry said. “She tortured me and tried to kill me. That’s a bit beyond having differences.”

“She tried to kill you?” Scrimgeour, to his credit, kept the disbelief from his voice.

“She admitted that she was the one who sent the Dementors to Surrey.” Harry said. “To try and kill me. To silence me, because I had told the truth about Voldemort’s return.” He held up his hand, so that he could show the distinctive scar on it. “She forced me to write this in my own blood, hundreds of times. She was prepared to use the Cruciactus curse on me.”

Scrimgeour looked shocked “You didn’t tell anyone about this?”

“Who?” Harry said with a bitter laugh. “Who could I tell? My Muggle Aunt and Uncle? My dead parents? My fugitive godfather? Dumbledore stood up to her, and she ran him out of Hogwarts and took his place.” Harry took a deep breath, realising just how alone he was. If it wasn’t for Hermione and Ron, he would have been lost long ago.

Silence fell between them, and Harry was happy to leave it. Hopefully, he had made his point to the Minister.

“I take it you are aware that she only holds a seat on the Wizengamot due to the demise of Barty Crouch.” Said Scrimgeour at last. “The seat which was resigned by your grandfather. She only holds it until the end of the Ministerial term, but I dare say her actions towards you are an attempt to keep it beyond that. There is currently a large amount of support for the idea of returning it to you in the long term.”

Harry hadn’t realised that. But he wasn’t going to say anything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it long term.

“Unfortunately, as a civil servant, firing her isn’t easy.” Scrimgeour admitted. “I will start an investigation, but I can’t promise anything. She is too clever and practiced at covering her tracks.” Scrigmour hesitated, then asked Harry “What do you and Dumbledore talk about, in your lessons?”

Harry considered his response. Scrimgeour had offered an olive branch of sorts and clearly expected something in return. While he couldn’t explain the Horcruxes, a part answer might suffice. “He’s been showing me memories of Voldemort as a younger man. Discussing his history. Something to try and find an edge the next time he comes for me.”

“You seem certain he will come for you again.” Scrimgeour said. “Is it because of the prophecy?”

“The prophecy was smashed, so he doesn’t know it.” Harry said. “At this point, he comes for me because I have defied him repeatedly. Because he needs to prove himself stronger.”

Scrimgeour nodded thoughtfully. “You have offered me your point of view. I might offer you the same.”

Harry looked at him quizzically, but Scrimgeour kept on talking. “I did not want this job. I never campaigned for it, never sought it. I believe Amelia Bones was killed so she couldn’t be here in this role.”

Harry was shocked by this admission. To hear of Dumbledore saying he didn’t want to be Minister for Magic was one thing. To hear the actual Minister saying it was another.

“It is an election year next year. I have the unenviable task of deciding if to hold elections in a country in the middle of a civil war. I will be widely condemned for whatever decision I make. But I will run for re-election regardless, because I will not take the coward's way out.” Scrimgeour sighed. “I will not ask you to make a statement supporting the Ministry again. As much good as it might do for morale, I can understand why that might be a step too far. If one of my children had been through what you have, I can’t say I would have reacted well.”

There didn't seem to be any more to say to that. Wordlessly, Scrimgeour led Harry back inside, where Percy was covered in gravy. His four younger siblings were looking gleeful, and all took credit for it after the pair from the Ministry had left.

That night found Harry sitting by himself in the living room of the Burrow. He had awakened from a nightmare, the graveyard again. Finding himself too restless to sleep, he had wandered down to the living room, hoping to talk to the painted Potters again. But the small frame was stubbornly empty.

Harry poured himself a glass of milk, considering his options. Everyone was asleep, even Fizzy. With nothing else to do, he simply stared out the window at the softly falling snow.

“Harry?”

Harry spun, dropping his glass as he drew his wand. As the glass hit the floor, Harry found himself holding Ginny at wandpoint. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide as she stared at him in shock.

“Oh, sorry. You startled me.” said Harry apologetically. Trying to calm himself down again, he repaired the glass and vanished the spilled milk with a couple of spells, taking deep breaths to calm his suddenly racing heart.

Once he had done that, he looked back at Ginny, who hadn’t moved from where she stood in her dressing gown. “Are you okay?”

Ginny seemed to come out of her state of shock, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Just wasn’t expecting you to pull your wand on me. I suppose I should have expected it, really.”

She turned and sat down on the couch, and Harry followed her after a moment. Sitting himself down next to her, he asked. “What has you awake at this time of night?”

“Nightmares.” Ginny said softly. “The Chamber again. It happens every so often.”

Harry grimaced. Truth be told, the Chamber was a recurring nightmare for him as well, but it had become one of dozens of horrors in his mind. It was rather dispiriting to realise that you had so many nightmares that they had to form a queue. All the way back to Godric’s Hollow, and that fateful Halloween.

Perhaps sensing the direction of Harry’s thoughts, Ginny changed the subject. “What did the Minister talk to you about today?”

Harry briefly went over what the Minister said, and what Harry had said in reply. “I think he was offering me the Potter seat back. Or sounding me out, working out what it might take for me to come out in support of the Ministry.”

“Or both.” said Ginny quietly

Harry nodded in reply. “It might be nice to have a seat on the Wizengamot. Better than being in front of it, anyway.”

Ginny burst out into giggles. “Only you, Harry,” she gasped, “would say that one of the greatest honours in the country would be nice .”

Harry smiled as her laughter petered out. Her next question took him by surprise. “So what’s going on between you and Hannah?”

Harry fidgeted uneasily at the question. “We’re friends. She knows a fair bit about the history of Godric’s Hollow, since both our families are from there. I’ve learned most of it from Fizzy and the painted Potters, but since I can’t tell that to people, it makes a good cover story.”

Ginny’s soft smile turned almost predatory. “Are you going to become more than friends? You looked pretty close at the party. She looked pretty hopeful.”

“She did?” The question slipped from his mouth before he could consider it. Ginny’s smile only grew wider. Harry had the distinct impression he may have just been pranked. With a sigh, he rubbed his nose under his glasses. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.” Ginny said softly. “That shouldn’t prevent you from finding love.”

Of all the people Harry had expected to talk to about love, Ginny Weasley would have been far down the list. Considering she spent her first two years at Hogwarts unable to talk to him because of her crush, Harry had never expected to be having a deep conversation about it with her in the middle of the night.

But here they were. And he had wanted someone to talk to.

“What do you know about soulmates?”

Ginny’s eyes went wide, and her gaze fixed on Harry. Her smile had vanished, and a look of shock, or perhaps awe was on her face. After a moment, she spoke. “It’s rare. Like really rare. So rare that most people would dismiss it as a legend or a fantasy.” A faint blush covered her cheeks. “It makes a good plot point in romance novels. The stories aren’t consistent about whether you need only a kiss to make the bond, or a more…intimate connection.” The blush was fully red now, but she persevered. “The stories are also pretty different about the consequences, but most of them say it’s a good thing.”

“So I’ve heard.” said Harry dryly

Ginny’s gaze darted around the room before landing on the empty portrait frame. Harry could almost see the gears turning in her head. “Your grandparents?”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. “And his parents. And my parents. It’s a bit of a family tradition, you might say.”

Ginny’s eyes snapped back to Harry. “And you want to keep it going.”

Harry groaned. “I need to keep it going.” He looked up at her. “I know the prophecy that Sirius and my parents died for.”

Ginny listened as Harry recited the prophecy as Dumbledore had told him six months ago. About how Voldemort had hunted him for his entire life, choosing him over Neville. Finally, when he’d run out of words at last, he sat on the couch trembling. He didn’t often get much of a chance to consider how utterly unfair the whole situation was.

“You think ‘the power he knows not’ is your soulmate?” Ginny said quietly

Harry hesitated. “Historically, the Potters have had a few instances of powerful members. It’s probably why he chose me over Neville. In reality, each of those had found their soulmate and were stronger for it.” He struggled with putting his next thought into words, but if anyone had a right to know, it was Ginny. “And Voldemort has experimented with soul magic himself.”

Ginny caught onto his implication faster than he had. “The diary.”

Harry nodded. “It had a shard of his soul in it. Convenient that it can be destroyed by basilisk venom.”

Ginny shuddered, and Harry realised belatedly that telling Ginny the truth about the diary may not help her nightmares. But people had kept secrets from Harry all his life, and he knew Ginny wouldn’t forgive him for treating her like a child.

“I think I want to go and take a shower” she muttered, and Harry could completely sympathise with her. He’d felt the same way after seeing Voldemort’s snake attack on Arthur Weasley last Christmas. He put an arm around her to comfort her.

“So you think Hannah might be your soulmate?” Ginny asked him after a long period of silence. Harry shrugged, his arm still around Ginny. “It’s possible. One of her many great aunts was one to one of my many great uncles. But until Hermione and I sort out this ritual, it’s only a guess.”

“So how does it work? Do you need the ritual, or will kissing her without it work? Or do you need to actually do the deed?” Ginny seemed quite excited by the possibility of helping Harry find his soulmate. Maybe it was a girl thing. Harry supposed it seemed romantic, on the surface.

“A kiss is sufficient. The ritual simply tells me who to kiss.” Harry tried to think of a way to temper her enthusiasm before she started dragging him around Hogwarts kissing people. “I kind of thought I might be able to kiss her under the mistletoe at the party. Work out if she is or not.”

“So why didn’t you?” Ginny asked. She pulled away from him, studying his face in the dim lamp light.

Harry fidgeted. He hadn’t told this to Ron, or Hermione. He hadn’t felt comfortable telling them. Truth be told, he struggled to admit it to himself. He looked away from her towards the dying fire.

“I froze, I was worried I’d stuff it up, or make her hate me. Plus there was no mistletoe”

For a long moment, only silence filled the room. Harry’s first indication of her reaction was the subtle vibration of the couch beneath him. He looked back at Ginny to find her hunched over, mouth covered, shoulders shaking. For a heartbeat, Harry thought she was having some kind of panic attack. But the truth was soon clear

She was laughing.

Eventually, Ginny gasped for air, and Harry was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Harry felt a little hurt by her amusement. He wasn’t that bad, really?

“I’m glad you find it so funny.” Harry said, trying and failing to keep the hurt from his voice.

Ginny shook her head. “Sorry. But even you have to admit it’s funny.” She waved her hands at the world beyond the Burrow. “The great Harry Potter. Will challenge Dark Lords at the drop of a hat. Slayer of Basilisks. Outflies dragons. Organises rebel defence groups. Storms the Ministry of Magic on a whim.” She looked back at him, her brown eyes alight with mirth. “Can’t kiss a girl.”

This, thought Harry, was exactly why he hadn’t told anyone. All he needed was for the wrong person to hear about this, and it would be all over Hogwarts. Malfoy would be mocking him about it for years.

“I’m sorry.” Ginny said quietly. With a start, Harry realised he'd slipped into a broody silence. It was the sort of thing Hermione was always complaining about. His lack of sleep was catching up with him. Harry shook his head, anxious not to leave his conversation with Ginny on a sour note.

“It’s okay. Truth be told, I’d prefer flying against the dragon again. It was so simple to do. Almost fun. Trying to find my soulmate is harder. About all I can say for certain is that it’s not Cho.”

Ginny looked at him again, and Harry tried not to cringe at the sympathy in her eyes. Her hand came up and brushed along his cheek. And her face was suddenly very close.

And then her lips were gently touching his. They were soft, and warm and comforting, and it was all Harry could do not to beg for more.  

 But when her face drew back, he felt no different than he had before. Ginny seemed to understand by the look on his face. “It’s not me either, is it?”

Harry shook his head, hating the disappointment in her voice. “No.”

She looked away, and Harry caught sight of a falling tear. Feeling useless, he tried to pat her back awkwardly. The two of them sat in silence. Occasionally Ginny sniffled, and Harry felt worthless.

Finally, Ginny stood. “I’d better go back to bed. Maybe get some more sleep.” The flatness in her voice suggested that her quest would be in vain, but Harry made no move to stop her. He stood, to follow her back up the stairs. More sleep sounded good.

She climbed the first stair, then turned. With her on the stair, Harry looked right into her tear filled eyes. With surprising strength she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, in a voice so quiet Harry might have imagined it. “Thank you for saving my life”

Harry smiled. He had done more than a few things he would regret in life. He’d regretted letting Peter live. He’d regretted suggesting both he and Cedric take the Cup. He really regretted falling into Voldemort’s trap at the Ministry. But he would never regret saving Ginny from the Chamber.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

After such a deep, soul searching chat, Harry was worried that it would have a huge impact on his relationship with Ginny. But there was no major difference. Perhaps she was a little quieter at moments around him, and took a bit longer in the shower than she had before. But she was still talking to him normally, still playing Quidditch with skill. For that he was grateful.

He was able to sit down with the painted Potter’s on a quiet day a few days after Christmas. 

“Is there any other way to learn Occulemacy?” Harry asked them. “We’re struggling a little with the ritual.”

The five Potters looked at each other at that. Henry cleared his throat. “The most common way to learn is to simply have a trusted Ligellimus attack your mind repeatedly. With a clear mind, it becomes easier to identify and repel attacks.”

Harry groaned. “I tried that last year. It didn’t work.” Not that he could call Snape a trusted Ligellimus anyway.

“The Black grimoire has a way they teach all male heirs.” Dorea contributed. “While you possibly qualify, you would probably need another Black to teach you.” She smiled at him sadly. “I never learned, so I won’t work.”

Feeling a pang of grief at the loss of Sirius, Harry simply looked away from the portrait. 

Fleamont interrupted. “Actually, I had a thought about that, before I died.”

Harry looked at him curiously, and noticed that all the other Potters were looking at him in a similar way. Even his wife was looking at him sceptically.

Fleamont was undeterred. “In my last years I realised how reliant people were on the pureblood ways of Occumacy. I spent my time trying to develop a potion to guard the mind.”

Harry was filled with sudden hope. “Is it hard to make?”

Fleamont shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Harry. The potion was never completed.” He smiled slyly at Harry. “But a sufficiently motivated someone could possibly finish it.”

Charlus groaned. “You were one of the best Potions Masters the family has ever produced, Fleamont. What makes you think Harry could finish it?”

Fleamont shrugged. “I’m dead. Harry needs a way to guard his mind. That girl of his is pretty smart, they might be able to succeed where I failed. It’s worth a try.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione being called ‘his’ girl. Hermione belonged to no one but herself. He called Fizzy, who was quick to follow Fleamont’s instructions and retrieve a book of notes from Godric’s Tor. Hopefully they could work out this potion until he discovered his soulmate.

A few days after New Years, Harry and the Weasleys returned to Hogwarts via the Floo. Harry was quick to head to the ritual room, where Hermione was waiting. 

The first thing Harry did was take one of Hermione’s pens and put a line through Ginny’s name on his shortlist. If there was one good thing to come from Christmas, it was that he no longer had to worry about the reactions of Dean or Ron if Ginny had been his soulmate.

He turned back to Hermione and offered her her pen back. Hermione took it, and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry sat down in his chair with a sigh. “So, I may have told Ginny I was looking for my soulmate.”

“Okay.” Hermione’s voice was noncommittal. 

“And told her the prophecy.”

 “That’s your decision. I’m not going to argue that.”

“Also told her the diary had a shard of Voldemort’s soul.”

“That may have been a mistake, Harry.”

“She deserves to know, Hermione.” Harry felt his familiar anger rise. “If someone had told me about the prophecy, Sirius might have lived!”

Hermione closed her eyes, looking tired. “Harry, did you tell her about the other possible Horcruxes?”

Harry shook his head, then realised that Hermione couldn’t see him. “No. I just told her the diary had a shard of Voldemort’s soul, and was destroyed.”

“Before or after you kissed her?” Hermione sounded annoyed at that. Wasn’t this her idea?

Harry thought back to his conversation with Ginny. “Before.” He said quietly. “And for the record, she kissed me. She was trying to help.”

Hermione opened her eyes again, her bright brown eyes finding Harry. “So not Ginny.”

“No,” said Harry quietly. “And I don’t think I can use the same tactic with the other girls. I basically had to explain everything before we kissed.” A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I think my dad had to do something similar with mum, according to my grandparents.”

Hermione picked up a book and started idly flicking through it. “How did Ginny take it?”

Harry glanced away, focussing on the silver runes on the floor. “She was okay, I think. Disappointed, maybe.”

“She had a crush on you for a long time.” Hermione said quietly. “And you did save her life. No matter how many boyfriends she has, you’ll always be special to her, Harry.”

Harry felt a blush cross his cheeks. “I didn’t want to play with her emotions like that.” It had been a pretty intense conversation.

“I’ll talk with her.” Hermione promised. “She’ll be okay.”

Thank heavens he could rely on Hermione. He told her about what Fleamont had planned, a Occumency potion. Hermione brightened up at the idea. 

“I don’t want to distract too much from the ritual research.” concluded Harry. “So I was actually thinking of asking Slughorn for help.”

Hermione looked pensive at the idea. “Is that really a good idea? He’s not a member of the Order. Can he really be trusted that much?”

Harry shrugged. “Voldemort already knows he has access into my mind. What’s the worst Slughorn can tell him? Like as not, Snape will probably tell him anyway.”

Hermione nodded. “Do you think Slughorn was telling the truth about the Horcruxes?”

Harry shrugged again. “I don’t know. Passing off some questionable subject matter to an expert does sound like the sort of thing he’d do. And if Riddle operated under his watch for seven years, I’d guess he’d be pretty practiced at looking the other way. But even if he knows nothing more about Horcruxes, he still might have insight into how many, what they might be, and where we could find them. If we butter him up a little with the potion research, he might help us.”

Hermione looked at Harry intently. “That was actually very well reasoned. I’m glad to know that you can still use logic, even after years in the wizarding world.”

“Professor” said Harry, after his next Potions lesson. “Can I get your help with something?”

Slughorn beamed “Of course Harry, m’boy” He looked positively delighted to have something to help Harry with.

Harry took a deep breath. “I’ve been looking through some of my grandfather’s notes, and there’s a potion he was working on that might really help me”

He handed over the sheaf of notes, and let Slughorn take a look at it. Slughorn took his time, flicking back and forth. Soon he went back to his desk, sat down and pulled out a piece of parchment, making notes of his own. Finally after about 15 mins, he looked up, and his eyes widened in surprise; evidently he had forgotten Harry was still there.

“This is definitely Fleamont's work,” said Slughorn. “I very much recognise his style. How did you find it?”

Harry hesitated. Moody had been very insistent on no one else knowing about Godric’s Tor, and Slughorn had never seemed completely trustworthy. But perhaps a half truth would do “Over the summer, I visited Godric’s Hollow. There were some books and notes of his that were in my parents house.”

Slughorn nodded sombrely “Lily might have been looking to continue his work. Heaven knows James wouldn’t have”

Harry perked up at this. New information about his parents was always welcome. “My father wasn’t any good at potions?”

Slughorn waved Harry to a chair. “I knew Fleamont for years, of course. I was a regular correspondent, and we would frequently trade ideas, or ask for help with something. The world of Potion Masters is a small one, very small indeed.” He set his hands on the desk in front of him “I suppose you know that he invented Skeezy’s, the hair potion?”

Harry nodded “Hermione found out for me. She was a bit miffed, actually. She’d bought quite a bit to use on her hair for the Yule Ball.”

Sughorn smiled “Trying to tame untamable hair. I’m sure you know the struggle.” He winked at Harry. “Everyone says that Fleamont did it for the curse of the Potter hair. Everyone is wrong. He did it for Effie. She had hair similar to Miss Granger, and had the same struggles. I’ve never seen two people more in love.” Harry smiled. He’d seen how much the two were in love in their portrait.

Slughorn cleared his throat “I was very surprised when James was born. Fleamont and Effie had given up hope of having a child” He looked mildly ashamed at the revelation, Harry wondered why. “But any hope of another Potter as a Potions Master seemed dashed from a young age. James lacked… patience.”

Harry felt a little twist in his gut at that. He too, had often lacked patience. “Patience is important to a Potions Master, I agree”

Slughorn nodded “So you see the issue. When he got to Hogwarts, he was more interested in Quidditch, pranks and wand waving than Potions.” He sighed heavily “I wonder at times if I was too hard on him. I expected so much from Fleamont’s son” He wrung his hands a bit “But I should have remembered that he was Effie’s son too. He definitely got his skill in Transfiguration from her. Minerva loved him. I think she saw him as a prodigy in Transfiguration, possibly even planning for him to take her place in time.”

Harry thought for a moment, then offered up a secret of his own “Did you know he was an Animagus?”

Slughorn burst out laughing “An Animagus! Unregistered, I bet” At Harry’s confirming nod he went on “James had a fairly simple approach to rules. He thought they didn’t apply to him. Fleamont struggled so much with him at times”

Harry squirmed in his seat a little. So many times he had broken the rules…. No wonder Snape compared him to his father “Snape has mentioned it a few times” he said quietly

Slughorn shook his head “I’m sure Severus has more than a few bad memories of his interactions with James and his gang. The amount of times Minerva and I had to sort through some issue or another… What has he said about Lily?”

Harry blinked at the turn of the conversation. He cast back his memories through the last five years, trying to remember if Snape had ever said anything about his mother “Nothing” he confirmed to Slughorn and himself. “Snape has never said anything about Mum”

Slughorn looked uncomfortable now “Really?”

Harry looked at the Potions Professor closely “Should he have said anything? I imagine they knew each other, being at school at the same time”

Slughorn fidgeted, and Harry knew when he wasn’t being told something. Snape hated her, calling her a Mudblood. Maybe he felt slighted that Lily had beaten him in Potions at some point?

“I can definitely help with an attempt at the potion, m’boy.” Slughorn said, leaping for safe conversation topics. “But some of these ingredients are difficult to obtain, very difficult indeed.”

Harry sighed. He should have realised that nothing was going to be easy. “If you give me a list, I have a couple of friends who can probably source things quickly and easily.”

Slughorn smiled his predatory smile, “Ah, what kind of favours do you need to do for them? I have more than a few friends on my own, you know. Former students and such.”

Harry hesitated at that. Fred and George were good at what they did, as evidenced by how quickly they had managed to find the ingredients for the ritual. But Slughorn’s network was probably larger and more used to finding rare Potions ingredients. “What will it cost me?”

Slughorn waved his question away. “I’ll see how long it takes to collect the ingredients. I won’t ask too much of you, Harry.”

Harry winced internally. It would probably involve hosting some party or another, some gathering so he could be shown off again. But it would be worth it to get the potion finished, and his mind protected.

Harry got back into the swing of things quickly enough. That Saturday he rejoined the Hufflepuff table for his usual Saturday lunch. It had become a tradition of sorts, and he enjoyed it. 

Hannah didn’t show. It wasn’t until Susan sat down next to him looking sad that Harry realised something was wrong. “Where’s Hannah?”

Susan took his hand. “Hannah’s okay. But her family was attacked over the Christmas holiday. Her mother was killed.”

All thought of food disappeared as Harry stared at her in shock. Seeing his face, Susan led Harry out into the little room off the Hall where the champions had gathered. Ernie and Justin followed on his heels. 

Guilt and worry consumed Harry. Why had Hannah been attacked? Had it been because she’d accompanied Harry to the party? Would the Death Eaters try and kill all his friends?

How many more would die because of him?

Something about his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Susan pulled him into a hug. “It’s not your fault, Harry”

“But they targeted her because she went to the party with me,” Harry said, his words muffled by Susan’s shoulder. He choked up a little, and couldn’t get the rest of his words out.

There was a click from the door behind him. Harry spun, putting Susan behind him, but it was only Ron and Hermione, both looking concerned. 

“Hannah said that her mother was the target.” Susan said, coming out from behind him. “Her mother was a muggleborn, and the Abbotts are part of the Sacred Twenty Eight. It was seen as a betrayal. Two of the Death Eaters were captured. They didn’t even know about the date.”

Harry looked at Susan, who looked to be on the verge of tears. Harry realised that with her long friendship with Hannah, Susan had probably gotten to know Hannah’s mother pretty well. It threw his own problems into a new light.

Ernie cleared his throat. “Hannah sent us a letter. Her family has gathered in their manor, and she’s probably not coming back for a while. She said specifically to thank you for your help. Your work in the DA last year probably helped save the rest of her family.”

Harry sank a bit, but Ron was there to support him. Harry felt an absurd urge to laugh. Godric’s Hollow. The Abbott family manor was in Godric’s Hollow. If Hogwarts was breached, he and Hannah might end up being neighbours under siege.

“Come on mate”, said Ron. “Let's go down to the kitchens for a bit. Dobby will be happy to see you.” 

Harry heard Hermione scoff. Eventually the peace between his friends only lasted while they were worried about him. 

It was in the last week of January that Slughorn had all the ingredients assembled. Slughorn enthusiastically told Harry about it, and they agreed to try and brew the potion on Thursday night. Harry had to beg off Quidditch practice, but Katie was happy to take over for the night. 

Professor Slughorn looked over all the notes that Harry had given him, then smiled “There’s a little trick I like to use when researching”

Professor Slughorn disappeared into his back room. Harry looked at Hermione, confused. Hermione shrugged back, clearly unable to work out what the Potions Professor was doing.

Professor Slughorn reappeared, holding a vial of potion. He set it on the desk before him, and let the two students have a look

Harry didn’t need Hermione’s expertise on this one. He had a copy of the same vial tucked away in his trunk. “Felix” breathed Hermione. She looked up at Slughorn “Of course! One drink of that, and you can use it to solve virtually any problem!”

Slughorn beamed “Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger”

Hermione looked very excited by this, but Harry couldn’t see the point. Surely it couldn’t be that powerful, could it? And it was limited by a time effect, and Slughorn had said something about side effects from using it too much…

“The trick” continued Slughorn “is not to do this alone. You need at least one other person present to record everything that is happening, preferably two. That way, if worse comes to worse and you miss a step, you could always consult pensieve memories to work out what was different.

Harry supposed that made sense. When experimenting with potions, a single stir at the wrong moment could ruin an entire experiment.

“Miss Granger, would you please record everything I say? I would wager that you are the faster writer of the pair of you”

Hermione nodded, pulling out a scroll of paper and a ballpoint pen. Harry raised an eyebrow at the pen, since they were so rare in Hogwarts. Hermione simply shrugged “I can write faster with a pen than with a quill. The only trick is to remember to do my essays with a quill.”

Harry supposed that made sense. For making her personal notes, she didn’t need to use a quill. Harry, whose handwriting was terrible with either a pen or quill, had long ago figured that if he was committing ink to paper, to do it as little as possible.

 “So we follow Fleamont’s instructions. A quart of pure water, over a low heat. Infusion of wormwood, spine of lionfish, crushed. Stir five  times clockwise.” Slughorn matched his words to his actions, carefully adding the ingredients as he spoke. Hermione sat and wrote furiously.

Harry felt a bit left out, as Slughorn didn’t seem to need his help for anything other than observing. But observe he did. He needed this potion to work.

“Harry, could you fetch me the neem oil from the private storeroom, please?”

Harry followed Slughorn's directions and collected the neem oil. It was clearly labelled, so it didn’t take much time. At Slughorn’s direction, he added four drops as Slughorn stirred in a complicated pattern.

That marked the end of Fleamont’s notes, but Slughorn didn’t hesitate to continue on his own. “Harry, can you crush a handspan of wiggentree bark to powder? As fine as possible, please.” 

Harry dutifully pulled out his mortar and pestle, measuring out and crushing the required ingredient. Hermione was still writing furiously, despite the instructions petering off. Harry suspected that she was adding observations to better record the process.

Slughorn was busy adding fluxweed, picked at the new moon, and added a dash of vinegar. At his nod, Harry added the powder, and the potion turned a dull slate grey. 

“We’ll let that simmer for an hour, then it should be done,” said Slughorn, who wiped the sweat from his forehead. “We’ll need to add hair now for the person intending to use it. We could ask one of my seventh years to volunteer.”

“I’ll do it.” Hermione said quickly, cutting across Harry’s own plans to volunteer. She quickly plucked one of her curly hairs from her head and added it to the potion. Harry begrudgingly conceded that she might be a better test subject, since with Slughorns’ presence, anything that could go wrong would be quickly reversed.

Slughorn took advantage of the time required to read over Hermione’s notes, and take a few photos of the simmering potion. He spent the rest of the hour regaling Harry and Hermione with different potions he had helped make in one way shape or form.

Once the potion was ready, Hermione carefully measured out a dose into a vial. “Do you know Legilimency, Professor?” She asked. “I’d like to see this tested as quietly as possible.”

Harry tensed. Somehow, in the middle of all their planning, he’d neglected to realise that they’d need to test the effects of their experiment. And he’d told her the prophecy. For a moment, he almost called a stop to everything.

“I know enough to test its effectiveness, but the rest of your secrets should be safe, Miss Granger.” Slughorn admitted. “If our first test is successful, we might ask Albus or Severus for help.”

As Hermione drank the dose, Harry spotted a pair of familiar earrings in her ears. Good. The goblin forged jewelry should help her. He held off telling Slughorn about them, however. It should prove an interesting test.

“Bleagh,” said Hermione. “It tastes like wet cardboard.”

Harry looked at Hermione, and struggled to focus on her. It was a strange feeling, he knew she was there, but his eyes danced past her. For a moment he thought she’d moved, but once he focussed, he could still see her sitting in her chair.

Whatever was going on clearly affected Slughorn as well. “Miss Granger?” He asked in a trembling voice. Harry glanced at him, but his eyes were looking all over the room. Harry looked back towards Hermione, since he was at least able to see her.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked. Even her voice seemed to be almost lost in the background noise of the castle. 

“It’s like a Notice Me Not Charm.” Harry said, as much to put Slughorn out of his misery as to inform Hermione. “I know you’re there, but you’re hard to focus on.” He felt a small surge of pride that he was doing better than Slughorn, who was looking lost. 

“Notice Me Not Potion.” said Hermione simply. “Even if it does work, we can’t give it to Harry all the time.” She looked a little saddened by the news. 

Slughorn, with a little direction, was able to cast Legilimens at Hermione. Her earrings lit up, and for a moment Slughorn happily proclaimed that the potion was a success, for her mind was hard to read.

“I’m afraid not, said Harry quietly. “Her earrings are goblin made, and act to both alert her to and hinder any attempts at Legilimacy. It’s not perfect, however, or I would have already bought a pair for myself.”

Both Hermione and Slughorn looked at Harry, who felt the need to expand on his reasons. “She knows too many of my secrets for me to do anything else. And they came in sapphire.”

Hermione gave him a stern look which promised that they would discuss this later, and Slughorn sank down into his chair. “I’m afraid I don’t know if it’s possible to create a Occulumency potion, Harry. If Fleamont couldn’t make it, I know I can’t.”

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione didn’t seem too upset. “I think it will be okay, Professor. We’ll manage. I’m sure there might be applications of this new potion.”

Once the new potion had worn off, Hermione duplicated her notes, handing a copy to Slughorn. Slughorn declared that they had to celebrate a successful potion brewing like true Potion Masters, and brought out a bottle of mead. Harry had never had anything stronger than Butterbeer, and was now feeling quite encouraged by their success. Hermione didn't seem too upset either.

“To Fleamont!” Declared Slughorn, and Harry happily joined him in a toast to his grandfather. The mead was quite sweet, and Harry thought it tasted quite good. He did notice that Hermione didn’t seem as interested in the mead, but Harry supposed that the dentist's daughter wasn’t as appreciative of the honeyed mead.

“So Harry”, beamed Slughorn “I think we could make a decent Potions Master out of you yet!”

Harry felt quite floored by the suggestion “I’m not so sure, sir. I did only get a E on my OWLs”

“Nonsense,” said Slughorn. “When we publish this potion, you will receive credit for it. Being credited on innovative potions helps towards a Potions Mastery, you know”

“I was planning on becoming an Auror.” Said Harry automatically. Completing a Mastery wasn’t on his agenda. “And you and Hermione both did more than I.”

“Oh, we’ll make sure Miss Granger gets credit as well.” Said Slughorn, raising his glass in Hermione’s direction. He frowned to see that Hermione wasn’t drinking. “The mead is not to your liking, Miss Granger?”

“Not really, said Hermione quietly. Slughorn called for a house elf to bring a bottle of elf made wine. After finishing his second glass of mead, Harry curiously accepted a glass of wine from the elf. It made the elf happy to serve, so why not?

Slughorn stuck with the mead. Harry tasted the wine, finding it quite strong. He was feeling a little light headed. Slughorn launched into a story about Fleamont, how he’d spent what was supposed to be his anniversary party in his Potions lab. He’d only come out of his lab after Effie had turned his cauldron into an angry marten that had chased him into the house.

 He started feeling sad. For all the stories about his grandparents, he would rather have known them in the flesh. Even the portraits were but pale imitations. He had a lot of things from his family now, more than he ever could have dreamed of, but he would prefer a living family.

“What happens if I die?” Harry said into the sudden quiet.

Hermione and Slughorn shared a concerned look, then looked back at Harry “Harry,” said Hermione gently “No one knows what happens if you die. Given you were able to see shades of your parents in the graveyard, you might know more than us, but I didn’t think it had given you any more insight than the rest of us…”

Harry shook his head, perhaps a touch too empathically. “What happens to my stuff? My vault, the things we found during the summer, what Sirius left me?”

Slughorn cleared his throat “Things would be claimed by various family members. The bulk of your wealth would go to family, depending on your parent’s wills”

Harry tried to get his point across by waving his hands, spilling some elf made wine in the process “I’ve never seen a will from my parents.”

Slughorn frowned “They were quite young when they passed. It’s possible they never made one” He seemed unsettled by the thought.

Hermione also frowned. It looked slightly funny on her face. “Who would inherit? Harry has no close family, except Lily’s sister and her son.”

Slughorn looked deep in thought for a moment “A lot of inheritances are from magical people are limited to magicals by law – to prevent Muggles from being hurt by magical items and a possible breach of the Statue. So, any family of Lily’s would be ineligible to inherit anything magical of Harry’s”

“Bugger” said Harry, a little disappointed “I was hoping for Vernon to inherit Sirius’ old place. He and Walburga’s portrait would get on so well”

Hermione was doing a masterful impression of Professor McGonagall, with her eyebrows raised quite high. Harry wondered if there was any way of borrowing Slughorn's camera to show her what she looked like.

Slughorn continued “So we’d look back along the Potter line for a distant relative. Fleamont was an only child, but there might be a relative of Effie’s in Greece.”

Hermione butted in. “Doesn’t it need to be a relative of the Potter line?”

Slughorn shook his head “Harry is the last Potter. We need to look for his closest magical relative” He stroked his chin while pondering. “I’m not as up to date on Greek families, I’d have to look up to see who the closest relative is there. Fleamont’s mother was a Black, if that fails”

Hermione nodded “Dorea, yes. I’d have to check the library to see who the closest relative is there.” A look of concern came across her face “How much might an inheritance be influenced by those in power?”

Slughorn squirmed a little in his seat. “A lot. Without a will from Harry’s father, some people might be able to get the Wizengamot to rule in a specific way. It’s not ethical or common, but it has been known to happen”

Harry swore, making Hermione jump a little “Malfoy. You think the little ferret would try something?”

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. “His father has lost a lot of influence after being captured at the Ministry last year. With all the money from the Potter and Black families, he would be able to buy forgiveness easily enough”

Harry shook his head. “He’d just give it all to Voldemort.”

Slughorn looked unsettled at the revelation. “I’m sure young Draco has learned from his father’s mistakes…”

Harry tried Hermione’s eyebrow raising trick but couldn’t seem to pull it off. “Yeah. He’ll have someone else set up to take the fall for my death” A thought struck him “What if I made a will?”

Slughorn poured himself another glass of mead. He contemplated it for a long moment, before taking a drink. “A will made by Harry might be able to be overturned, but not easily. Definitely not after he turns seventeen. His age and level of maturity would mean that even were Harry to die tomorrow, his wishes might stand a decent chance of being carried out. I know a few good lawyers that could see it done.”

Harry took another drink of the elf made wine. It didn’t taste as strong as when he had started, but Harry supposed he might be getting used to it. “Hermione, would you have a pen and parchment on you?”

Hermione gave him an indulgent smile, pulling both implements out of her bag “It could probably wait until tomorrow, Harry.”

Harry thought Hermione was wrong. Malfoy was definitely up to something. It was probably at the behest of the Dark Lord, and it didn’t bode well for Harry. And besides, if he was going to divvy up all his possessions amongst his friends, better to do it over some of the wine.

He thought for a moment about what he had, what he valued. Well, there was one easy choice to make “To Remus Lupin, the last of the Marauders, I leave his map and one thousand galleons”

Hermione started writing out Harry’s words, then stopped. “Harry, a thousand galleons is a lot of money. Do you know how much gold you have in your vault?”

Harry shook his head “I’ve never had a full accounting done. Plus Sirius left me lots more gold. Just put a thousand gold for now, I might be able to add to it later.”

Slughorn leaned forward “Sirius left you gold?”

Harry shrugged “He inherited a decent chunk of the Black estate. He designated me his heir. I’m not sure how much I inherited from him, actually.”

Slughorn sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “My dear boy, you might have actually managed to become richer than the Malfoys”

Harry looked at Slughorn coldly. “It doesn’t matter. I have to survive to spend it”

Slughorn nodded. Then he went to the cupboard and pulled out another bottle, with some tiny glasses “Firewhisky.” He looked at Hermione, who waved him off. He filled two of the small glasses with an amber liquid, passing one of them over to Harry

“To Sirius Black!”

Harry echoed Slughorn's toast, drinking the Firewhisky in one shot. It burned, but it was a comforting burn, like a warm blanket.

He handed his glass back to Slughorn, who promptly refilled it. The sight of Hermione with parchment and pen reminded him that he had a task to complete. “To Luna Lovegood, I leave one of my closest and best friends, my owl Hedwig. And a thousand galleons”

Hermione looked a little shocked at this but dutifully wrote it down. Harry had a storm of thoughts in his head, and was eager to keep going “To Ginny Weasley, I leave my Firebolt and a thousand Galleons.”

Slughorn looked impressed. “The Weasley girl? She was talking Gwenog’s ear off at the party. She would really impress on a Firebolt”

Harry nodded, but kept going “To Neville Longbottom, I leave a thousand Galleons and my father’s old cloak, so that he might escape my fate”

Both Hermione and Slughorn looked stunned at that, so Harry took a drink while trying to avoid looking them in the eye. The Firewhisky burned like before, and he was definitely feeling warm. Slughorn gave a quizzical look towards Hermione, who shrugged.

As for the remaining gold. He turned to Professor Slughorn “Professor, while Dumbledore was showing us some old memories, there was a mention of a fund to help orphaned Hogwarts students who had no other resources. Tom Riddle used it as a student. Does it still exist?”

Slughorn gaped at Harry before nodding. For some reason, he didn’t seem able to speak. Harry nodded to himself before continuing. “To the Hogwarts fund for orphaned children, I leave one quarter of my remaining wealth”

Only the crackling of the fire and the sound of Hermione’s pen broke the sudden silence. Something Harry had said shocked Slughorn, and Harry couldn’t think of what. Into the silence, he kept going “I leave one quarter of my remaining wealth to Professor Dumbledore, on the stipulation that he uses it to avenge my death.”

Hermione looked up at that “Avenge your death?” She said with a snort. Harry supposed it did sound a little ridiculous. 

Harry shrugged “It’s worth a try. It’s not like I can take it with me” Harry swayed a bit in his chair, considering his next words “To Ronald Weasley, Best and greatest of friends, I leave all non monetary assets I inherited from Sirius Black, including custody of the house elf Kreacher. And one quarter of my wealth”

Hermione, clever girl that she was, had probably worked out what was coming next. “Harry…”

“To Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of the age, truest and noblest of friends I leave everything else I inherited from my Potter forefathers, including companionship of the house elf Fizzy.”

This seemed to upset her “You can’t leave me Fizzy! She’s her own person!”

Harry felt that this was unjustified “And how else am I supposed to look after her, Hermione? No one will care for her like you will. No one will love her like you will. The law says she needs to be owned, so better I leave her to you than someone else. Do you want someone like Malfoy to abuse her like they did with Dobby?”

His voice raised as he went on his rant, and for once Hermione seemed shocked into silence. Harry stood up, but the room was swaying wildly. He tried to focus on Hermione, but the room was spinning so much he lost his balance and fell to the floor. The floor was surprisingly soft. It seemed like a lot of effort to get up. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a moment, the world would stop spinning…