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Chapter Text

“So what’s for dinner?” Sirius Black asked as he rested his head in his hand, absentmindedly playing with the ear of his teacup as he looked at Remus. His expression was both teasing and smug, but not unkind or mocking. “Chocolate with a dash of your boyfriend?” He continued and reached for the honey, which Remus pushed towards him, saving him from covering the entirety of the table with his body in an attempt to reach the honey jar. 

The two of them were having tea in the basement, not too far away from Remus’ werewolf cage, which was hidden away behind a curtain. Their tea was served on an old table with an unreliably unstable leg which threatened to give away with every nudge on said table. Remus would rather not their tea and snack be ruined because the escaped criminal forgot that he was, in fact, heavier as a human than he was as a dog. 

Snuffles, that is to say, Sirius in his animagus form, had moved in with Remus and Harry after Remus left Hogwarts. Remus had been more than a little worried about the man staying with them. but he was a dog for the most part, and having him around proved more than a little calming. Snuffles was mostly silent, and seemed to spend most days just relaxing or enjoying his freedom by running around in the garden. Most of all, Snuffles slept a lot, as Sirius was still mentally recovering and didn’t have a lot of energy for extensive periods of time. He was more than happy to sleep next to Remus in his bed when the man was experiencing high levels of anxiety, or snuggle up on the couch to keep him company. Unless he was asked to stop, Snuffles followed Remus everywhere and made sure that he was safe and comfortable. Remus very much suspected his current relationship with Sirius to be the same as a person with a therapy dog. Except the fact that this dog paid for his own food. 

Sirius had, during some time between escaping from Azkaban and becoming the Lupin household dog, managed to retrieve a rather large sum of money from Gringotts, which he had used a small portion of to buy and send Harry the Firebolt broom last year. Sirius had given all that money to Remus, stating that he had it hidden away in the Shrieking Shack and that the money was probably happier being with Remus than it was hiding under the floorboards of the Shack. It had been hard to accept it at first, but after Sirius presented the money as rent, Remus had finally agreed. The addition of Sirius' money made it much easier to feed his son, himself, and the new family pet.

Thanks to Dumbledore, Remus' financial situation was stable for the year to come as well. He had been hired to teach Hagrid throughout the summer and the following year, with the plan that Hagrid would be able to get his teacher’s license and begin working as a full time teacher by the beginning of the following autumn term. Remus was getting paid as much as he had been while teaching at Hogwarts, although he suspected that the reason for that was because the payment was coming from Dumbledore’s own pocket, and the old wizard had money to spare. 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad to live with Sirius, and it did feel good that the broken animagus and escaped criminal badly needed his help and presence too. Sirius had gotten a lot better compared to the state he had been in when they had met again for the first time in twelve years. The animagus spent most of his time in his preferred shape of a dog, but when he did change back into his human shape, it was evident that his health had improved. His bones were no longer visible through his skin, and his cheeks no longer hollowed. His skin had become less dry, his teeth were no longer yellowed, and his hair and beard were not dirty, tangled, or tattered. 

The biggest sign of improvement was the man’s eyes. They were alive with happiness and mischief, rather than only filled with misery and madness. Remus had been somewhat worried that his friend’s improvement would make him hard to deal with, as Sirius has been a very demanding man throughout most of his life, but twelve years in Azkaban had humbled him greatly. He didn’t really ask for anything, and when he did make requests, or teased Remus about something, he didn't do it with malice or cruelty, but friendly familiarity. It was with such familiarity that Sirius spoke to him about Severus Snape, referring to the man as Remus' boyfriend, not with the intention to hurt anyone, but because Remus and Severus were, in fact, dating. 

“No, Severus isn’t coming over today.” Remus smiled at his friend, picking up his own cup to have a sip of his tea. “Although I’m sure you’ll see each other soon enough.” He chuckled as Sirius pretended to pout at him, but then quickly joined him in his laughter.

It felt absolutely impossible for Remus to think that he had a partner, that there was a person who liked him enough to want to be with him.

A person who would visit him, speak to him with soft words, and tell him things in the dark which nobody else had the right to hear. A person with whom to share his bed, and snuggle up to and hold. A person who touched his body and heart, and a person whose heart and body he was allowed to touch in return. 

Remus’ life had not been exactly pleasant since he was revealed to the world as a werewolf. For so many years, he had feared the reveal and what the world might think of him should his condition be known. It was stressful, and he was more anxious than ever to go anywhere where somebody might recognise him as the former werewolf teacher of Hogwarts, as the news seemed to have spread like fiendfyre, but he was managing surprisingly well with the help of Severus, Sirius, and of course his son Harry. Not to mention that he was very lucky in that the reveal of his condition was pretty quickly overshadowed by the announcement that the Quidditch World Cup would be held in the UK that year, with Ireland competing for the World Cup. The exposing of his condition was very likely to be overshadowed by the news of the Trimagus Tournament which would be held at Hogwarts that year. Remus couldn’t wait to simply become a forgotten note in an old newspaper. Of course, the werewolf doubted that he would ever truly be forgotten, as the news had continuously blown up as much as they had because he was none other than the father of ‘Harry Potter.’ 

There were days where he felt completely crushed and didn’t want to get out of bed, but he found himself being able to motivate himself to action by thinking of his child’s needs rather than his own. Sirius was of course helping as well, but the thing which motivated him more than anything else was the fact that Severus and he had somehow become a couple. Despite the world knowing of his condition, and shunning him in turn, Severus had somehow given him a chance. It felt absolutely bizarre to think that in a world which rejected him, he was allowed the comfort and companionship of a man who he had come to find himself hopelessly in love with yet again. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as too much a surprise that Severus would accept him where nobody else would, but since Remus had become an adult and lost most of his friends and acquaintances, too much time had passed for him to truly remember what it felt like in the times he wasn’t hiding from everyone around him. A mere half a year wasn’t enough to get used to such different circumstances.

In hindsight, it was hard to tell when and how they had become a couple. They had grown closer and closer in the aftermath of the reveal, with Severus finding reasons and excuses to remain in close proximity to Remus, and come see him at his house over the summer. One night when Harry and Sirius were asleep, and the two of them found themselves alone. Somehow, the conversation about leaving turned to honesty about needs and desires, and hesitant touches turned into kisses. When he thought back to how they got to the point they were currently at, Remus remembered that night as the night when he knew that he was in love, but he wasn’t sure if it was the night when they began dating. It felt so natural, like it was something they both wanted, and so, they both allowed it to continue. 

Sirius was of course the first person to call them out on their attractions, and the fact that they were more or less dating, and so, it had just happened. Neither of them had any reason to deny it at that point, and the fact that, unlike in their youth, Severus wasn’t attempting to deny it in the slightest made Remus feel overwhelmingly warm and happy.

Remus sometimes feared that the whole thing was just something he was pushing onto Severus, as the man had remained distant to him for a long time, yet Severus continuously informed him that he wanted this as well, although he found it hard to be vocal about his desires and needs. Still, Remus doubted, until his partner found himself somewhat annoyed with his insecurities and pointed out that it was rather rude of Remus to presume that Severus was forcing himself to be with him when he was in fact very happy to be dating the werewolf. After that, Remus didn’t find himself questioning Severus’ words, instead, he found comfort in the knowledge that if Severus wanted their relationship to end, he would say so. 

“So… how did it go, dropping the Lupling off with the Malloys? Are you sure that they are treating you right?” Sirius asked, lifting his cup to his lips and drank. Judging by his displeased expression, the tea was too hot for him still, thus, he put his cup down. 

In his stubbornness, Sirius had elected to call the Malfoys the Malloys, as he didn’t like the family very much and he had decided that nobody would really mind as long as they didn’t hear him. Seeing as he was only human with Remus, and only hidden away in the basement, the werewolf supposed that he could call the Malfoys whatever he wanted. The Lupling was a nickname which one of Harry’s friends had given him, and after learning of it, Sirius had been excited to use the nickname too. Harry allowed it, even if he didn’t yet allow Sirius the usage of his first name. Other than that, Harry wasn’t making things hard for Sirius in any way. It was true that Sirius needed some time to recover before even thinking about the past. Acts like apologising for the past would mean tearing up old scars, which the man truly wasn’t ready for yet.

Remus had always been worrying about how his condition as a werewolf would affect his relationships with other families and mages. However, after it was made known to the world that Harry Potter’s father was a werewolf, he had found himself worrying about how it might affect his son and his friendships. He could accept that his own relationships suffered, but the idea of ruining something for an innocent party made the werewolf highly self conscious and anxious. 

To Remus’ great surprise and relief, Draco Malfoy had other plans than to allow anything to ruin his relationship with Harry Lupin. From what he had learned from Severus and Sirius, Lucius Malfoy’s authority had been challenged by his son, and to everyone’s surprise, Lucius Malfoy had picked his son over his own beliefs. In a sense, it was understandable that a family of such influence as the Malfoys would seek to keep the family together and not lose the one heir to the family, but it still felt quite surprising. While Remus had little doubt that Lucius Malfoy wanted to cut him and Harry out of his son’s life, Draco Malfoy did not allow that to happen. From what Harry told him, his friend had made certain that his father not only allowed him to continue seeing Harry, but also allowed him to let his friend visit, just as Harry had been allowed last summer. 

Remus was very happy that Harry’s relationships hadn’t been damaged by him. He still had friends who wrote to him, and wanted to see him over the summer break. Granger had visited a lot during the summer, and judging from her words, her family didn’t know about her former teacher being a werewolf, which might be why they didn’t mind her coming over so often. Not to mention that Sirius was more than happy to play with her cat Crookshanks, which made her visits pleasant for everyone. 

Harry also told him that his friend Nott had been writing a lot as well, he seemed very eager to apologise for the way he had acted when Remus’ condition had been made known, and was apparently still eager to be adopted, referring to some sort of inside joke between the boys. Remus knew that the boy was joking, but it warmed his heart to think that the boy still made those jokes even after he knew of the werewolf’s condition. He had also enclosed a little mechanical toy for Remus in one of his letters, calling it ‘another jumping werewolf so that the other one will have a family.’ The little present meant a lot to Remus, and he kept it on his desk to remind him that his students didn’t all despise him for what he was. 

However well things seemed to be going for Harry and his friendships, Remus had never dreamt that he would be allowed inside Malfoy Manor ever again. Thus, it was with great surprise that he found Narcissa Malfoy waiting for him when he had come to drop Harry off. Adding to that surprise was the fact that she and her son weren’t alone, but that Severus had been with her. Narcissa Malfoy had, with a displeased look on her face, and a sternness to her body language, welcomed Remus inside for tea. Rather than welcome, her voice had made it clear that she wouldn’t accept a refusal, and so, Remus had found himself in the very same tea parlour as last summer, only this time, Severus was there too, and Madam Malfoy seemed highly displeased with at least one of her guests. 

“My son has continuously informed me throughout the summer that I should speak with you both about the... information which was revealed earlier this spring.” Naricssa had said, speaking of course of the werewolf incident as she sat down in an armchair, staring them both down. “And he has continuously informed me that I should speak with you both, as one of you is an expert of the subject and the other has… the experience required to confirm the information. Thus…. I ask you both… explain. I shall listen.”  

The day had been slow and exhausting, and their conversation had continued for hours, with Severus doing most of the talking, and Remus remaining silent by his side, trying to not give in to the rising anxiety within him. Severus was essentially giving her the same lesson as he had to his students, using facts and history to back up his words to an even greater extent when dealing with an adult.

By the end of their discussion, Narcissa had questioned his words with the fact that if all of this had been true, how was it that Severus hadn't told her about it earlier.

To this, Severus had calmly responded that he could have told her at any time, but that she hadn’t been ready to listen to his words, much to the Madam’s displeasure, but she didn’t argue.

She had pondered this for almost a minute, before she slowly admitted to herself and the two men that she had been wrong about werewolves, and that she would no longer have a problem with her son’s best friend and the friend’s father. She did not make any grand exclamations about no longer being prejudiced against werewolves, or accepting them all as the same, but she seemed to have decided that she would no longer lock Remus away from her life because of his illness. Remus didn’t feel like he had specifically gained much more of a friend in her than he had previously, but he felt like she was no longer opposed to him. Before he left with Severus, she made a point out of extending an open invitation to her household, should Remus want to visit alongside his son. Remus had yet to take her up on her offer, but he highly appreciated it. 

Well back in his home, Severus had expressed his relief in that Narcissa had accepted his words to be true, as she was a very sheltered person, who didn’t quite know or care about the world outside her mansion. He stated that it was good for her to have knowledge of the world outside her home, as she had a bad habit of locking herself away from anything which didn’t quite fit into the worldview which she had been taught to believe in since childhood. Be it the fact that werewolves were but sick, not dangerous people and not beasts, or the fact that science disproved her highly treasured elitist Pureblood beliefs, it was quite the challenge for the woman to adapt to the matters without interacting with the world around her the way her son had. The man who was her son’s Godfather was clearly pleased that he had been able to widen her references, and that it had the benefit of making her no longer treat his partner as something Remus was not. 

“The Malfoys are trying hard to not treat me badly. I can tell that it isn’t easy for them, but they are being more respectful than I could ever dare hoping. Not to mention that they are treating Harry well when he stays over.” Remus smiled at his old friend, calmly drinking some of his tea. 

“I sure wish I could come with him tomorrow… Just to, you know, keep an eye on him.” Sirius sighed as he leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling with a longing expression on his face. 

“You just want to see the Quidditch World Cup for yourself, don’t you?” Remus chuckled, teasing his friend, as Sirius so often teased him. 

Sirius made a face before sinking down further in the chair, whimpering like a dog. “You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. It’s the World Cup, Remus. World. Cup. And Ireland is playing. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity…” He disappeared out of view from sinking so far down on the chair that Remus couldn’t see him anymore. “Of course I want to see it for myself… But I’m also worried about Harry, you know? There is this person who has gone missing in Albania, where Voldemort was last seen. That could mean trouble.” 

Remus gave him a weak, joyless smile. “I know… her disappearance bothers me too, but I don’t think that it's necessarily connected to the Dark Lord. The Ministry is doing their best to find her, we truly do not know more than that.” 

“What if Death Eaters show up at the game?” Sirius sat up again, his expression tense and his eyes nervous. “What if Malloy would try to sell Har-, the Lupling out to his Death Eater buddies?” 

“Sirius, please…” Remus wasn’t begging his friend to stop speaking because of his accusations, but because Sirius’ paranoia reflected Remus fears as well. “I know how you feel, and I do not trust Lucius Malfoy either, but I do trust that he has been able to get this far by denying all ties to the Death Eaters. For him to try something after the Chamber of Secrets, and while trying to prove himself to his son and the world, would be political and societal suicide. He couldn’t possibly let any harm come to Harry, or the world will seek justice. Not to mention that his son would. I have been assured that they will leave right after the game, and return to Malfoy Manor. Harry has been safe this entire time in their household, I am certain that Malfoy won’t seek to harm him.” 

“Hm. If he tries, I will eat his head.” The escaped prisoner mumbled at his teacup. Remus didn’t doubt that he would try. 

The werewolf took a deep breath and lifted his own cup to his lips, trying hard to not think of the words which his partner had spoken when Remus asked him about Lucius Malfoy. Severus’ face had become stern, twisting into the mask of displeasure which so many thought was the one and only expression he was capable of making. 

“Remus,” he had said, his voice lowering to a somber, yet audible tone. “Make no mistake. Lucius Malfoy was, and will doubtlessly always be, a Death Eater. Be wary of him.”

Remus and Sirius had always been rather certain that the man was a Death Eater, the confirmation from Severus was all that they needed to know beyond doubt. However, Remus didn’t want to believe that Lucius Malfoy couldn’t possibly change. He had already proven to be changing. If REmus could actively hide and rely on the escaped criminal Sirius Black, as well as love a man who most students found terrifying beyond belief, why shouldn’t he allow Lucius Malfoy to at the very least try to change for the better? 

Remus hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake in allowing Harry to go to the Quidditch World Cup with his best friend. 

Chapter Text

“Would you like to go to the Quidditch World Cup with me and father, Harry?”

Draco Malfoy’s question had come as a surprise, but before Harry could answer him, or vocally express his confusion, the blonde wizard had continued on. “Father got tickets for the Cup. He wanted to go with me and mother, but she isn’t too interested in sports. Mother suggested we take you with us instead of her. I know you don’t enjoy Quidditch but, well… I do not feel too comfortable going alone with father, and the game will be held in Ireland, so it is not even that far from here.” He took a deep breath, finally looking Harry in the eyes. He didn’t appear shy, but he did appear hesitant. “I suppose that… I’d feel better if you come with us. I won’t demand anything, but I would really be… thankful for your company.” 

Harry had spent a lot of the summer at Malfoy Manor, and he had been surprised by the fact that he was still welcome there. Draco’s parents weren’t necessarily familiar with him, he always felt distant to them, but he was beginning to think that it was just the way the family was, so he didn’t take it personally.

The mansion was a strange place to be in, a place which never quite felt familiar or known to Harry. It had been far easier when he had been new to the mansion together with two of their friends last year, but the more time he spent in the place, the less familiar it felt. He could never quite shake the feeling that he was a stranger in the Manor, an unwelcome guest who might disappear into a painting, or get lost in the hallways to never be found again. In this house of unfamiliar sights and strange scents, Draco’s room was a safe place. At the very least, the teenager’s room was familiar to Harry by now, and it felt good to be there. 

They were both seated on the blonde wizard’s bed, both of them reading quietly before Draco spoke up. They had just had dinner, and Harry felt warm and comfortable upon the soft bed together with his friend. Draco hadn’t changed much over the summer, but to Harry’s small dismay, he had grown even taller, while Harry himself seemed to just have stopped growing altogether. He hoped that his bones would squeeze out a few more centimeters to add to his height, but he was beginning to think that it wasn’t going to happen. 

Hermione Granger had caught up with Harry as well, the two of them reaching around the same height by now. Harry had noticed it since long back, seeing as she had been staying over a lot during the summer. She hadn’t specifically been vocal about her reasons for wanting to stay over a lot during the break, but judging by what little she did say about her situation, she seemingly found her home to be stressful and uncomfortable for the moment. She had mentioned something about how her voice was growing darker, and how she was outgrowing her clothes. Her mother was trying to bring her on shopping tours, which was making her feel bad and insecure. Harry hadn’t asked further, but instead opted to try and keep her mind off the bad things, rather than force her to make a confession which she didn't seem ready to make.

He hadn’t seen Neville for most of the summer, but the two of them were writing a lot to one another. Hermione had been coming over to Neville’s house as well as Harry’s, but Neville’s grandmother Augusta Longbottom had forbidden werewolves or werewolf children in her house. She didn’t want to help Neville visit Harry either, so the two friends were locked away from one another. It was uncomfortable to learn that the old witch disapproved of him and his dad, but Neville had assured him that he did not share her feelings in the least. He was still considering Remus to be the best teacher he had ever had, and highly valued Harry as his friend. The Gryffindor boy had assured him that by the time they were back in Hogwarts, he would not treat or think any differently of Harry than he did before the summer break. His assuring words made the son of a werewolf feel a lot better, and he longed to see his friend and give him a hug. A big one. 

As for Ronald Weasley, who had requested to be called Ron, as he didn’t like the lack of identity in his surname, he and Harry had been writing a little to one another. They really didn’t have that much in common with one another, but as the Weasleys were very accepting people, it still felt good to write to the teenager, if only for the confirmation that there really were families out there who weren’t prejudiced towards werewolves or their families. He got to learn a little more about the red haired family, and Ron’s many brothers and single sister, but only because they were mentioned in passing. Harry, in turn, told him about books he had read, as he couldn’t think of anything else to write about. 

The last time they wrote to one another, Ron was announcing that his dad had gotten tickets for the Quidditch World Cup which would be held in Ireland. Ron’s two eldest brothers weren’t interested in going, so they had two tickets over which Ron planned on sharing with Hermione and Neville. He wrote to Harry to make certain that he didn’t feel left out, should Ron bring the two Gryffindor students with him and his family. Harry did of course not mind in the least, as he didn’t like Quidditch, and was happy to hear that Ron had actually gotten friends to be with. Not that he wrote the last bit to the teenager, but he did mention it to his dad and dogfather. 

Harry had imagined that that was the last he’d hear about the Quidditch World Cup until he would meet his friends on their way back to Hogwarts. He had not imagined to be offered a ticket of his very own. 

“...I… I mean, I…” Harry stuttered as he processed his friend’s request. “I will have to ask dad first, but if you want me to come with you, I don’t mind. I still don’t know a lot about the game, but if I’m with you, I’m sure it will be fun.” He smiled at the other teenager, earning a smile back. 

“That’s great.” Draco was visibly more relaxed after Harry accepted his invitation. “According to father, we have the best seats, and I’ll explain everything to you about Quidditch yet again.” He teased, chuckling as Harry’s expression revealed him to not remember the rules clearly. “Professional Quidditch is played with different rules than school Quidditch at Hogwarts. I’ll explain them on the day of the game, rather than now, or you will forget it.” 

“Hey, I’m not that absentminded.” Harry pouted at his friend, before shaking his head and raising his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, I don’t know what it is about Quidditch, but I keep forgetting the details. At least I know that you are the Seeker, and that you are trying to catch the Golden Snitch, while everyone else plays to get points by throwing the… the… big ball… And there are small balls which attack people, they are called Bludgers. And the Chasers are trying to get the big ball through the rings on the other end of the stadium.” 

Draco laughed merrily at him, his expression kind despite him laughing at Harry. “Big ball… Hoh.” He snorted, shaking his head. “You sure have a way with words, don’t you?” He chuckled. 

“I do, just not… sports words.” Harry waved his hand, as if he could chase away the heat from his cheeks by doing so. It didn’t work. “I will ask dad about it, and we’ll see if he minds or not.” 

“I hope he doesn’t.” Draco smiled as he laid back in his bed, picking his book up once more. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I hope he’ll let you go.” 

Remus wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of letting his son go to the Quidditch World Cup, but he was in no way opposing letting Harry go there if he wanted to. Sirius very much thought that Harry should go, until he realised that the offer came from the Malfoy family. At that point, he became somewhat doubtful about Harry going, but it was easy to see that he was excited about the idea of the Quidditch World Cup as a whole. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little happy in return, as his dogfather was struggling with finding happiness in anything. It was good to see him excited about something, although neither Harry nor Remus shared in the excitement. 

Remus' biggest worry came in the form of considering Harry’s safety. Before he agreed to even consider the offer, he wanted to speak to Lucius Malfoy about the whole arrangement, and learn in what way they would be travelling back and forth, among other details. The meeting was the first time Remus and Mr. Malfoy had ever really spoken to one another. From what Remus later told Harry, it was stiff and strained, but they managed to communicate with one another until Remus’ worries about his child’s safety had been settled. 

The idea was for Harry and the two Malfoys to travel by Portkey to the location of the Quidditch World Cup, whereas they would attend the game, and then return home without getting involved with the celebrations. Neither Harry nor Remus wanted the little group to remain afterwards, as they were both aware of how loud those celebrations were likely to become, and didn’t trust the mages present to not be rowdy. Thus, it was important to the Lupins that Harry wasn’t caught in a loud place with nowhere to escape, and instead came back home safely. Neither of the Malfoys found that to be unreasonable, and Mr. Malfoy assured the werewolf that they would leave as soon as the game was over. After speaking with Harry and Draco to hear their opinions, it was arranged that Harry would sleep over at the mansion before Remus came to get him the next day, as to not tire the boy out too much with travelling. 

As they wouldn’t be staying, there was no time to meet Hermione, Neville and Ron after the game, thus, the friends set out to arrange a meeting before the game started. At first, Lucius Malfoy was less than eager to venture out among the tents and the people for the sake of his child meeting Arthur Weasley’s boy and his Gryffindor friends, but after some discussion with his son, he yielded and agreed to come with the boys to meet their friends. Draco had phrased it as some manner of final evidence that his father had mended his ways, if he could actually treat these people with dignity. The meeting was arranged by Draco and Hermione, who acted as ambassador for the Weasley group. Harry could tell that Mr. Malfoy was less than pleased that Mr. Weasley agreed to the meeting, but he tried to act with dignity and surrendered to that it was what the children wanted. 

Harry was woken up by someone lightly shaking him. He objected to the touch and made a valiant attempt of disappearing under the covers, but the covers were removed from him. Harry grunted and opened his eyes, sleepily blinking up at the unclear image of his best friend. He reached for his glasses and placed them on his nose, before once more looking up at the blonde teenager who had woken him. 

A room had been prepared for Harry back when he first started spending time at the estate, but after having been scared half to death by a House Elf who had been tasked with lighting a fire in his room as the night had proven to be very cold, he had hastily migrated to Draco’s room and his bed, where he had slept every time he came over after that. Draco didn’t mind, and nobody bothered to tell his parents, just in case one of them would have a problem with it. 

“Good morning,” Draco’s voice carried with it an excitement and energy which Harry associated with his passion for Quidditch. “Today is the day. The big day. I can’t believe it… Ireland has a chance for the World Cup… I just know it, this day will be remembered by history.”

“Gnurm…” Harry responded as he remembered where he was. He smiled weakly at his friend’s enthusiasm as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning.”

Draco smiled at him before getting up from the bed and headed towards his clothes which lay waiting for him on the chair assigned for clothes. Harry would have to pull his clothes out of his bag and put them on as well. He still found it strange to be clothed by breakfast, rather than remain in pajamas until after food, but he had sort of adapted to the way in which the Malfoys did things.

“See, we will be travelling by Portkey, it is rather straining on the body, thus, we will not eat until after we have travelled.” Draco explained, probably for the fifth time, as he and Harry got dressed. Harry was glad that it was summer, or he imagined that the floor would be very cold. “However, father has arranged food for us when we arrive, so that will not be a problem.” Draco assured him, to which Harry nodded. 

“I know…” He yawned as he pulled his trousers on and found that he was missing a sock. Harry began searching for it. “You’ve said it a few times now.” He chuckled as Draco’s cheeks heated slightly. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you remembered it.” He defended himself. “You had never travelled by Portkey before, right?” 

“No, but I have apparated with dad. It wasn’t very comfortable.” Harry sighed, remembering just how ill he had felt when they had reached their destination. “I think I’ll be alright.” 

“Just know that you can ask if you need to breathe for a few moments after using the Portkey.” Draco finished buttoning up his shirt and turned to Harry. “Where is your other sock?” He asked, noticing that Harry hadn’t found it yet.

Harry flashed him an apologetic smile. “I’m searching for it as we speak. And I do know that, but thank you either way.”

Lucius and Draco Malfoy were dressed in a similar manner, although Mr. Malfoy’s clothing was far more elaborate. While Draco was wearing black clothing with a blazer, trousers, west and a white collared shirt, all of which would make it easier for him to move, his father wore a black cape decorated with black fur lining and snake themed accessories over other elaborately patterned but still all black clothing. In his hand, Mr. Malfoy was holding his decorated snake cane, an item which Harry found to be very beautiful. The detail of the silver head of the snake was exquisite, it had probably cost more than the Lupin family’s entire house, or so Harry thought. Both of the Malfoys looked more like they were going to the opera, rather than appear to be going to a sports event. Harry couldn’t help but feel underdressed, even though Draco had assured him that he need not worry about it. 

Mr. Malfoy looked at the clock behind the two teenagers and nodded to himself. The clock had just passed ten while the older Malfoy corrected his son’s collar. “If you are both collected, then let us be off. I expect that you both remain with me at all times during the game, and do not under any circumstances wander off on your own, even when you do meet your associates. Is that understood?” 

“Yes father.” Draco responded. 

“Yes, Sir.” Assured Harry. 

“Very well, you will be sharing the top stand together with the Minister of Magic himself, and other wealthy or otherwise respectable members of both the British and the Bulgarian Mage societies, as well as possible other visitors from other countries. I expect you to act as good examples of our society, and present yourselves respectable and honorably. Only speak to adults after they have spoken to you, and do by no means engage in any kind of argument or display confrontational behavior.” Mr. Malfoy continued, causing both boys to nod. 

Harry felt more than a little uncomfortable with the displeased look the older Malfoy gave him, but he understood what was asked of him and why. 

“As for you, Mr. Lupin,” the man continued, causing Harry to tense up and focus his attention even harder on the man. “You shall be introduced as the associate of my son, with your name being the one which you prefer. However, should anyone identify you as Harry Potter, I will speak for you, and do my utmost to preserve your dignity.” 

Harry nodded once more, giving the man a small but thankful smile. He wasn’t entirely sure what Lucius Malfoy meant when he said that he would preserve his dignity, but the man’s expression was so serious that Harry couldn’t help but believe that Mr. Malfoy wanted to assure Harry that he had the right to his preferred name. It felt good to know that someone as distant and cold as Lucius Malfoy cared about allowing Harry to be ‘Lupin’ rather than demand him to be ‘Potter.’ It may not have been the case when they were complete strangers, but they weren't strangers anymore, and Mr. Malfoy had adapted well and easily to using the right name.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you.” The son of a werewolf bowed his head slightly, earning a nod of approval from the man in question. 

“Good. We shall ride by carriage to a spot which is located roughly thirty minutes from here. Then we shall proceed by Portkey and… meet up… with the Weasley company.” He couldn’t hide his sour tone while speaking about the Weasleys, neither could he stop from scowling, yet the man had at the very least made an attempt to not show how displeased he was with the situation. “We will then access our seats in the Minister of Magic’s own box, attend the game, and then travel back here afterwards as agreed by me and Mr. Lupin. Is there anything you find unclear?” As he asked, he looked at Harry, clearly expecting him to have something to question. 

Harry shook his head, as did Draco, both confirming that they understood everything which had been said. With their confirmation, Mr. Malfoy decided to bring them out to the black carriage, which stood waiting for them outside. 

The ride was somewhat tense, until Draco began speaking to Harry. The man didn’t pay them much mind, instead, he remained seated as he looked out the window, calmly observing the world pass by. It was a relief to have the other teenager break the silence, rather than allowing the suffocating lack of conversation to continue for a whole thirty minutes. 

“You see, professional Quidditch plays differently than old Quidditch, you know how in our school tournaments, we only have a time restriction if the game continues on past four hours, and the Golden Snitch is worth 150 points?” Draco looked at his friend, expecting an answer before he continued. 

“Yes, it’s sort of like playing two games at once, and only one really matters. It’s almost like the rest of the players are just… there? It’s hard to make anything matter at all when the Golden Snitch is worth that many points.” Harry looked at his friend, feeling worried that Draco would feel insulted by him questioning the rules of Quidditch to his face. 

To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy nodded. “You are not wrong. Added to that is the fact that the Beaters aren’t allowed to in any way attack or engage with the Seekers, they really do play outside of the rest of the game. Thus, professional Quidditch has embraced the fact that there are two different games being played on the same field. The players who aren’t Seekers are playing the same game as you know, namely the Chasers trying to get the Quaffler through the rings and score points, while the Keeper guards the rings, and the Beaters trying to interrupt the players with the help of the Bludgers. The second game, the Game of Seekers, is a sort of terrain or obstacle course, as they have to play alongside another game while not getting caught up in it or interrupting it, while scoring points for their team by catching the various Golden Snitches.” 

“There is more than one?” Harry questioned, trying to memorise all of the added and different rules. 

“Oh yes. Professional Quidditch has a set time of two hours, with a fifteen minute break in the middle. Thus, there are a total of ten Golden Snitches for the Seekers to catch. As it is an even number, that means that the Game of Seekers cannot easily overtake the lead in points, which makes the Game of Seekers an addition to the Quidditch game. Every Golden Snitch is worth forty points, so if a Seeker could actually catch them all, their team would get a massive lead of four hundred points.” He grinned as he talked about the Seeker’s importance to the game. It was clear that he was proud of the position he played, even though he wasn’t actually playing with the sports approved Quidditch rules in school. 

“Most of the time, the battle for the Golden Snitches is so fierce and the players so good that it’s rare for a Game of Seekers to end with more than a six - four difference in total numbers of Snitches caught. Most of the time, they truly do end up being five and five if all the Snitches are caught. It’s not always that they manage to catch them all during one game.” Draco was rambling now, his passion for Quidditch having overtaken him. “The Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, is highly praised for being a very skilled flier and Seeker, he once caught two Snitches by the time span of five minutes. He’s incredible. And he’s still in school, just turned eighteen.”  

“What happens when all the Golden Snitches are caught? Does that end the game earlier?” Harry asked, leaning forward to show his friend that he was paying attention. 

“If that happens, then the Game of Seekers concludes, not the entire game. There are some very interesting discussions to be had about the psychological warfare in having all the Snitches caught, versus leaving some for last minute play. There have been a few games where all the Snitches are caught, and those games immediately become more focused on blocking rather than scoring, which has lead to several losses when teams became unfocused and relaxed. Similarly, if the Seekers do not catch the Snitches as fast as possible, considering the team spirit and game as a whole, they instead risk losing the points to the other team, but I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Draco laughed to himself as he glanced towards his father, who didn’t seem inclined to comment. 

“It’s interesting. Besides, you always ramble a little bit when it comes to Quidditch. I don’t mind.” Harry assured him, trying to not make it sound like a bad thing. “Anything else I should know?” 

As he asked, the carriage came to a halt, signalling that they had arrived at their destination. The door swung open, allowing them to exit their vehicle. Mr. Malfoy stepped out first, followed by his son and then Harry. They were standing in what seemed to be essentially nowhere, big, grassy fields stretching before them, with a little forest behind them. Mr. Malfoy moved his cane in a soft, controlled manner, and a small blue trail of smoke appeared, leading into the woods, down a small pathway. The man told the driver to be off, before he began following the trail, causing the two teenagers to follow him. Soon enough, they found where the smoke had stopped, snaking around a rock which was hidden up in a tree. Without the trail of smoke, it would have been nearly impossible to notice it. 

“Is that a Portkey?” Harry whispered to Draco, who nodded in return. 

“Yes, they are made to look inconspicuous and ordinary so that Muggles won’t want to touch or play with them. However, anything which looks man made might be interacted with, so instead they started to use rocks or branches or organic things, and hid them away where Muggles usually don’t travel.” Draco explained. 

In front of them, Mr. Malfoy used his cane once more, moving it towards the rock and then pulled back, causing the item to come floating down from the branch and hover in front of him. In a controlled movement, he took off the soft glove from one of his hands. “Both of you, grab onto my arm. When I touch the Portkey, you will be pulled alongside me. If we all try to touch it at the same time, one of you might be too late or too early, causing us trouble. Thus, you grab me, and I shall grab the rock.” 

Draco grabbed the arm which was being offered to him, urging Harry to grab it as well. Harry felt uncomfortable grabbing the expensive fabric of the man’s coat, but he did it nonetheless, carefully holding on to the sleeve. 

“You must hold onto me tighter or you might be pulled away from me.” Mr. Malfoy sighed.

His comment caused Harry to hold on to him harder as his cheeks heated. He had tried to be respectful by keeping his grip loose, but it seemed that hadn’t been an option. Draco glanced at his friend before wrapping an arm around him, holding on tightly to his clothes to not allow Harry to be ripped away from them, should he lose his grip. Harry gave him a comforted smile, one which the blonde boy returned with a smile of his own. 

Then Lucius Malfoy touched the rock. 

Harry quickly learned that he didn’t like travelling by Portkey. He felt as if something had hooked itself somewhere under his navel, causing him to feel like his guts were being yanked forward, prompting the rest of him to follow. Harry closed his eyes as the world began to swish by, clinging to the arm which was offered to him. Somewhere next to him, he felt that Draco’s grip had turned stronger as well, causing Harry to conclude that his friend might fear that Harry would lose his grip on Mr. Malfoy. 

Then the horrible feeling was over, causing Harry to almost fall over. Draco seemed equally unsteady, but the older Malfoy grabbed them both, supporting them from falling as they found themselves standing on solid ground once more. Draco groaned softly as Harry placed a hand over his stomach, as he felt like he had to check that the invisible hook was really gone. It was, which was a relief. 

As the two teenagers recovered from the travelling, Mr. Malfoy stood next to them. He was still holding the stone, which he placed in one of his inner pockets. Harry assumed that touching it again would trigger a return to the place where they had picked the Portkey up. 

“Are you two quite collected again?” The man asked as he closed his coat, leaning against his staff as he looked his son and his friend over. He reached out to correct his son’s clothes, making sure that he was presentable once more. 

“Yes, father.” Draco allowed the man to fuss, before he turned towards Harry. After looking him over, he reached out and corrected his hair, helping his friend hide his scar from view. 

“Thank you.” Harry looked down upon himself and corrected his jacket before looking around at where they were. 

He found himself staring out over green empty fields and plains, but it seemed to mostly be untouched natural plains, rather than any cultivated grounds. As he looked about, it truly seemed they were out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere, with forest areas rising around them. After looking about a little, Harry realised that there was a single visible thing, standing out from the surrounding area. There was a little tent, just a short walk from where they were standing, where there seemed to be two people standing about. Both of the women looked not too different from Muggles out on a hike, or at least so Harry thought as their little group approached said women. 

With elegance and purpose, Mr. Malfoy brought out their tickets for the women to inspect, whereas one of the women brought out a wand and directed it out behind them, seemingly doing something, or speaking some sort of spell rather silently. 

Once again, Mr. Malfoy and his son started walking, so Harry assumed he should simply follow. He wasn't too used to the security around large events as such, as he and his dad had generally avoided larger events and public areas for most of their lives. 

The son of a werewolf had not expected the sight of the field to suddenly change right before his eyes, by merely taking another step forward. He stopped in his tracks, as colors, noises, and far too many impressions assaulted his mind all at once. The area had evidently been put under a Concealment Charm to keep it hidden from the Muggle world and Muggle surveillance. 

In front of them was a huge Quidditch arena, or well, Harry assumed it to be an arena hidden within a giant stadium, and monstrously large stands. Simply staring at the stadium made the boy realise just how many people were probably attending. 

The group turned from the giant beast stands which rose high in the sky, hiding the giant arena where the Quidditch World Cup would take place, to instead walk towards the myriad of tents which stretched before them like strewn about trash on a beach. Without the littering of tents and the endless moving of the mages, the view had been spectacular, before entering within the concealed area. Around them, people were passing, paying no attention to their group. Harry felt himself becoming somewhat uncomfortable almost right away, as the sounds all around him were already hurting his head, and the close proximity of so many people made him feel stressed. Draco noticed, and sneaked his hand into Harry’s, giving it a squeeze. Harry held it back, thankful for the reminder that he wasn’t alone. 

Mr. Malfoy clicked his tongue in a display of disapproval before he began to walk towards the tents. He didn’t seem to be displeased with what the teenagers were doing, but instead disapproved of walking down among the tents. The man stopped to look at a map over the area before continuing again. The Weasleys’ tent lot was Grindylow 23 and 24, which didn’t take too long for the blonde man to find on the map, thus, he strode towards their location, his head held high and his expression a mask of disinterest. Harry and the man’s son followed him, easily walking behind him in the space which Mr. Malfoy’s presence created, as people mostly stepped out of the way for him. Harry secretly revelled in the fact that Lucius Malfoy was far more important than him, and that it was so easy to disappear in his shadow, as few people would pay attention to the shabby looking child next to the overpowering presence of Lucius Malfoy. 

The Weasleys were easy to spot, not because their tent looked any different from any other tent, but because Arthur Weasley was standing outside of it, speaking to another man who looked far too well dressed to be standing amongst the shabby tents. Just like Mr. Malfoy, the man appeared to be more suited for an expensive office, rather than to be standing on the grass outside in a messy field. He had short grey hair with a neat parting and a narrow toothbrush-like moustache. The man wore a black suit and highly polished shoes, the first impression he gave Harry was that of a Muggle businessman. The man had clearly attempted to disguise himself. 

The man noticed Mr. Malfoy first. Judging by his expression, he would never have expected to find the man out here among the rabble of mages. “Lucius. I believed I wouldn’t meet you until the game began.” The man’s voice was strange, forceful and direct, as if he was interrogating whoever he was addressing, demanding an answer rather than making any type of statement. Harry got the feeling that the man was an Auror, or at least was working within a magical law office. The way he was looking at Mr. Malfoy was somewhat unsettling, it was as if the man did not so much look at another person, but instead at a traitor, or at the very least a man whom he did not respect. 

Mr. Weasley turned towards the blonde man and the teenagers with him. He was dressed as a Muggle as well, in older clothing which colors had become paler with time, making his whole appearance seem faded and tattered. He didn’t seem entirely pleased to see Mr. Malfoy, but tried his best to hide it. Harry got a feeling that the two men would drive one another insane for the following hours by pretending to be polite with one another. He glanced towards Draco, trying to ask him with his eyes if the blonde boy really thought that this was a good idea. Draco didn’t notice Harry’s questioning eyes, instead he focused on his father, seemingly wanting to remind him with his gaze that this whole situation was in fact a test which he needed to overcome if he wanted his son to believe in him again. 

“Bartemius.” Mr. Malfoy extended his hand to the other man, who shook it in return, despite seeming unhappy about touching the blonde man. Harry noticed an expensive looking silver ring on the Mr. Malfoy's finger, shaped like a snake. He wondered if the man wore the piece of jewelry to display his wealth in front of Arthur Weasley. “I see I’m not the only one wandering about among the tents. Draco, Lupin, this is Minister Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” 

Harry saw something in Draco’s eyes before the blonde boy averted his gaze from the Minister. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He stated in a polite voice. 

“Good day, sir.” Harry more or less echoed, bowing his head slightly as he felt the man’s stern gaze shift to him. 

“...Enjoy the game, children. I have duties to attend to. See you at work, Arthur. Good bye Lucius.”  The man didn’t remain but walked away with a brisk pace. 

Harry got the feeling that the man didn’t like Mr. Malfoy in the least, and he was rather certain that the dislike had travelled on to Harry as well. He wondered if the man had connected his name to the werewolf incident earlier that year, and deemed Harry unworthy in some manner. It wasn’t the first time he had experienced werewolf prejudice, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Luckily for Harry though, the unpleasant meeting with Crouch was over, and a far more pleasant meeting was heading his way in the form of Hermione, who had noticed him and Draco, and was hurrying towards them, her face lit up by a grin. 

“Harry! Malfoy!” Hermione stopped in front of them, having changed her mind about hugging them when she realised that Mr. Malfoy was right next to them. Her long hair had been gathered in a semi bun on top of her head, but it was already falling out of it, sending pleasant curls hanging over her face and neck. She had grown a little taller than last year, her soft face beginning to become harder when puberty had begun to change her. Her voice had grown darker during the summer, but she seemed to be making an effort to speak in a lighter voice to hide it. Harry hadn’t seen the clothes she was wearing before, so he assumed that her mother had made her go shop for new clothes. The aforementioned clothes appeared more masculine than her previous choices, but Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. 

“Hermione, your hair looks great.” Harry moved forward to hug her. She might not be able to hug Draco there and then, but there was nothing stopping him from hugging her. The hug was somewhat distant, as if Hermione was scared of bodily contact. Harry didn’t mind, instead tried his best to respect her boundaries and simply hugged her carefully. 

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned red as she hastily pulled back. “I tried to keep it away from my face but it doesn’t seem to be working…” She sighed as Neville and Ron caught up with them. 

Seeing Neville again after not having seen him the entire summer made for quite the shock when they finally did meet like this. Puberty was clearly changing him, his soft, round face was becoming longer and more defined. His hair had grown into somewhat thin curls, which seemed to frame his face in ways which highlighted the change from soft to firm. He had grown taller as well, and his lips seemed to be plumper and redder than Harry remembered them. Both Harry and Draco were evidently staring at him, for the teenager’s cheeks appeared to heat and he avoided their gazes. “W-what… why are you both looking at me like that…?” He mumbled, causing both teenagers to realise their actions. 

“Sorry!” Harry gave him an apologetic smile. “You look… really good. It’s been so long since I saw you that I just… I didn’t mean to stare.”

Neville turned even redder as he waved at Harry. “Sh-sheesh. Thanks. I think. I mean, I do think, thanks, just, uh…” He trailed off. “You look good too. The longer hair suits you.” He smiled and shrugged, seeming to slowly regain his composure. 

Harry nodded from side to side. “Thanks, I’m just trying it out to see if I like it.” 

“It looks nice.” Hermione agreed with Neville. 

Behind the children, the two adult men exchanged a short greeting. 

“Arthur.” 

“Lucius.” 

Ron stood a bit to the side while Neville and Harry hugged one another in a greeting, patiently waiting for there to be an opportunity for him to say hello. As he waited, he absently played with the scars on his fingertips, studying the group before him as if he had no place inside of it. Harry noticed, thus he turned towards the red haired teenager. 

Ron had grown taller as well, not as tall as Neville, but nonetheless taller. His hair had grown longer, and was parted to fall around his face in waves. He was growing more handsome as well, but not quite as handsome as Neville. Both teenagers appeared to be working out as both of them, as well as Draco, wanted to play Quidditch. Harry wasn’t too surprised to realise that all of them were becoming more physically fit than he was. However, while it was easy to see that Draco and Neville were appealing to him, it was hard to think of Ron as handsome. Harry couldn’t think of any reason as to why that was, but he supposed it could have to do with the fact that Ron wasn’t as close a friend to him as the other two teenagers. 

“Hey.” Ron said, flashing Harry a lopsided grin. “Glad to see you could make it.” 

Harry nodded. “Nice to see you. I hadn’t exactly planned on attending but, well… here we are.” He shrugged, gesturing around himself towards the tents and the arena. 

“Did you get the water, Ron?” The red haired boy’s father asked him, causing the young Weasley to raise the bucket he was holding. 

“We got it, dad.” The teenager responded as he began moving towards the tent, trying very hard to not look at Lucius Malfoy. Ron didn’t exactly know that Lucius Malfoy was to blame for everything with Tom Riddle’s diary, but the boy had concluded that the diary appearing in his cauldron might have had something to do with Mr. Malfoy. Needless to say, Weasley was frightened by the man, but had no way to prove that he has reason to be. 

Mr. Malfoy didn’t even look at Ron, instead focusing on his son, patiently waiting for the boy to introduce his associates. 

“Father,” Draco began, showing towards Hermione, who happened to be standing the closest to him. “This is Hermione Granger, although she is still young, she has been called the most brilliant witch of her age many times.” She blinked at him, his words causing her cheeks to heat as she avoided his eyes. “And this is Neville Longbottom, who is most competent in the subject of Herbology, and my Quidditch protégée.” Neville bowed his head in a nervous greeting. “And of course, Ronald Weasley, who you do of course know of as Mr. Weasley’s son.” He turned towards his friends, showing towards his parent. “Allow me to introduce my father, Lucius Malfoy, Patriarch of the Malfoy family, landowner and Ministry consultant on both Magical Artifacts as well as Magical Law, specifically in regards to education and Hogwarts business.” 

All the teenagers looked a little humbled and worried to be in the presence of someone like Mr. Malfoy, yet they all tried to be polite rather than appear frightened. They exchanged greetings with the man, who stood tall and proud before them. 

“I have heard of you all from my son, especially about you, Ms. Granger.” He looked at the young woman, who looked beyond bewildered to have been known by a man such as Mr. Malfoy. “My wife did speak highly of you as well, she seems to believe you to be most capable, considering your b-” the man halted himself, as he had been about to criticise Hermione’s blood status. Draco’s gaze turned cold as he stared at his father, silently evaluating his efforts to change, as he had claimed that he would. “...That you have been aware of the world of magic for less than four years.” He concluded. 

His words caused the witch to smile at him, her shoulders were somewhat raised and her body language defensive, but she understood well how much the compliment meant coming from Lucius Malfoy. 

“Have you had lunch yet, Arthur?” The blonde wizard turned towards the fellow adult, his hair sweeping behind him as he focused on the other man. 

“...No, as a matter of fact, we were just about to.” The red haired man nodded towards the tent, which Mr. Malfoy opted to translate into an invitation. 

The blonde stepped forward, sweeping inside the small tent as if he owned it. Mr. Weasley looked insulted as he trailed after the other man. Harry and his friends looked at one another before slowly heading inside after them. The tent was very big from the outside, almost taking up the entirety of the two lots. Harry found it rather stuffy, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was only visiting and not staying. In the middle of the room in which they found themselves, a table was set up, one big enough for at the very least six to eight people. Mr. Malfoy had selected the best chair, which was a scrappy little folding chair, upon which he had sat down, to the apparent irritation of Mr. Weasley. 

“I do not believe I allowed you to use that chair.” The red haired man grumbled under his breath. 

“Oh, should your guest sit on the floor, Arthur?” The man huffed as he reached inside his coat, pulling out an elegant watch which seemed to further accentuate how much money the Patriarch of the Malfoy family had. He glanced at it before placing it back inside his pocket. 

“No… But I’m not sure you can be called a guest when you just… do that thing where you take over the room by just being inside of it.” Mr. Weasley objected. 

“Ah yes. That rumored… thing.” The blonde man rolled his eyes at the other adult. 

Their discussion, or perhaps argument, called every Weasley to the big room. The twins were there, as was Ron’s only sister. The blonde man noticed that everyone had gathered, it appeared that it was exactly what he had been waiting for. 

“Well then, Arthur, to apologise for my intrusion, I have brought with me a gift.” The blonde man swept out with his arm in a theatrical gesture, there was a strange noise, as if the air was sucked out of place and then returned again, only this time, bringing with it House Elves. 

The House Elves appeared all around the tent, carrying with them plates of food, drinks, and various sweet pastries and desserts. Harry thought he recognised the new Malfoy House Elf among them. They placed the food on the table, but said table was quickly filled up, so they began placing the trays wherever there was space. The smell of the lavish breakfast or lunch quickly filled the tent, as the Weasleys and their guests stared at the display of wealth which was taking place all around them. One House Elf carefully placed a giant teapot in the middle of the table, before handing Mr. Weasley a cup, which he accepted with a look of utmost confusion. When every previously available inch of the tent seemed full of edible or drinkable items, the House Elves bowed to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley before apparating away. 

“Is all of this…” 

“For all of us?” The Weasley twins finished each other’s sentences as they each eyed the same plate of sweets. 

“Why yes.” Mr. Malfoy moved some hair over his shoulder in an elegant gesture, making direct eye contact with the other adult with a triumphant look on his face. He had somehow managed to make the act of sharing food become a statement of wealth, secretly yet openly mocking the red haired man with the display of splendor and charity. “Myself, my son, and Lupin have yet to eat breakfast. I believed it to be… rude, to simply feed us. Thus I had my servants prepare a little something for your lot as well.” 

Left and Right Weasley were already munching on the cupcakes which they had deemed the most important to eat first. 

Draco avoided everyone’s eyes, seemingly embarrassed over his father’s behavior, but being unable to classify it as rude or directly faulty. Harry gave him a small pat on the back, as the children tried to find spots to sit, seeing as all chairs but Mr. Malfoy’s had become tables for plates of food. 

Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville and Ron managed to cram themselves together in a corner. They gathered food on their plates and sat down to talk. The group was soon joined by Ginny Weasley, who managed to nestle herself into the group next to Neville and Draco. She seemed very satisfied with her position between the two of them. Left and Right Weasley brought their food with them to their corner of the tent, while Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley ended up stuck with only one another for company by the table. Draco would glance at them from time to time to make certain that his father was keeping his promise of acting dignified towards the Weasleys. When he had concluded that the man was indeed trying to be polite and not condescending to his host, Draco focused on the teenagers’ conversation instead. 

“The Burrow is absolutely amazing. It is the most cosy house I have ever been in. It has a lot of floors, a wonderful garden, and it always smells of newly made food. It just has this same feeling of homeliness as drinking butterbeer.” Hermione finished telling Harry about how much she was enjoying spending time with the Weasley family. 

Harry knew that she enjoyed spending time with him and his dad too, but it seemed that the homeliness of the Weasley household was more appealing to her than that of staying with the Lupins and their depressed dog. Harry didn’t mind, and neither did Neville, with whom Hermione had stayed with a lot as well. It seemed she wanted to be anywhere but home, none of them knew why, but they could all understand that she likely didn’t feel comfortable at home due to the distance from the world of magic. 

“Geeze…” Ron mumbled, seemingly embarrassed over someone liking his home so much. 

Ginny beamed at her. “The fields are the best part, there is so much space away from Muggles, so we can always practice Quidditch and fly as much as we want!” She grinned, looking up at both Draco and Neville. “You both better watch out this Quidditch season, I bet I’ll be really pumped up and ready to fly when we get back to school. After this game, I’ll be so inspired, I will be explosive on the field!” She promised. 

“There won’t be a Quidditch season this year at Hogwarts.” Neville gently reminded her with a kind voice. 

Her face dropped into a displeased frown. “Oh… Yeah… Bloody Tournament…” She sighed. “Damn it, Percy.” She added under her breath. 

“Percy?” Hermione questioned. “What does he have to do with the Quidditch games being cancelled?”

“Oh… uh, n-no, it’s just a joke!” Ginny waved her hands, her cheeks turning red. “He is working for the Ministry now, and he is all prissy about it, so we’ve just, I mean, Fred and George have this joke about everything being Percy’s fault and I just… I didn’t think about it when I…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Ron finished a sandwich and placed his plate aside in favor of picking up his teacup. “He’s not here, but try and not say that to anyone, Percy would be hurt by it.” He didn’t look at anyone as he spoke. 

Harry felt a tingle of pride as the Gryffindor teenager proved to not engage in bullying of his brother. It seemed that Ron might have actually started getting over himself, not anymore bullying others for the sake of managing his own hurt. At least it was what Harry hoped to be the reason. 

“You sound like Bill…” The girl mumbled, seemingly trying to not pout but failed. 

“Was… Bill the second oldest or the oldest brother…?” Neville glanced at Ron. 

“Bill is the older one, he has somewhat shorter hair and an earring. Charlie is our second oldest brother, he has long, wild hair and a beard. Also a lot of scars and such, but I’m not sure if you saw those.” The red haired boy shrugged as he spoke. He didn’t so much appear dismissive, but he appeared to keep his sentences short and direct as to not make anyone bored of him. Harry guessed that Ron wasn’t exactly used to people listening to him, and therefore was somewhat clumsy when it came to conversation. 

“Scars?” Harry echoed. “Was he hurt?” He couldn’t help but feel concerned about the scarred man, seeing as his dad was often seen as a dangerous individual by strangers because of his scars. 

“Charlie is a dragon keeper.” Ron explained. “It sort of comes with the job. He and some of his work buddies have come back to the UK to work with the Trimagus Tournament, he isn’t allowed to say what they will be working with, but I guess it’s safe to say that it probably has to do with dragons or draconic creatures.” He sipped his tea, looking like he might have said too much. 

“Bill and Charlie didn’t have time to come to the game, so Neville and Hermione are using their tickets.” Ginny informed the group of what they already knew with a proud look on her face. 

She was about to say something more, but as she did, there was the sound which resembled that of a weak explosion from the Twins’ part of the tent. Everyone exchanged looks, glancing towards the curtains which separated the rooms in the tent. Mr. Weasley seemed comparatively relieved to have an excuse to leave the breakfast table and check on his children rather than having to continue playing polite with Mr. Malfoy. The blonde man looked after the red haired man with a look of pure distaste, before he continued to sip his own tea. 

“Was that… was that an explosion?” Harry turned to the Weasleys, looking bewildered. 

“Yeah… that kind of happens a lot…” Neville spoke first, rubbing his neck as he was speaking. “We’ve been staying with the Weasleys for about two days, and… well, I’ve almost gotten used to it.” 

“They seem to be making something, they are experimenting with it and have been for ages. It’s no so often that things explode, but it has happened before. It’s just happening a lot lately.” Ginny summarised. 

“Mom is really worried about them, there was this big meeting about it.” Ron continued. “They are saying that they want to make… joke things. Like Zonko’s Joke Shop stuff, but better. But they are struggling with the actual creation of things. Mom forbade them to experiment in the house… Guess they found a loophole in the tent…” He seemed to realise the loophole as he was speaking. 

Mr. Weasley exited the other part of the tent, bringing with him something gooey and pink, which he had evidently confiscated from the Twins. Mr. Malfoy decided that he had enough of the Weasleys’ hospitality and rose to his feet. 

“I believe it is time for us to leave you, Arthur.” He looked upon the thing in the red haired man’s hand, scrunching his nose as he did. “My servants will come over to pick the silverware up during the game, so you may have at the food that is left until then.” He nodded towards Draco and Harry, who both got to their feet and joined him. 

Mr. Malfoy was about to leave, but he was stopped by a subtle cough from his son. The cough made him turn towards his host once again, before forcing a polite smile which resembled the grin of a feline more than it did a human smile. “Thank you most kindly for your hospitality. I do hope I was not overstepping my boundaries in bringing with me so much food for you and your family and your guests.” 

Mr. Weasley forced a grin back, his resembling that of a canine which was commanded to smile by an overly enthusiastic owner, and only did smile because of the treats involved. “It was my pleasure to host you in this little tent here which is by no means your usual standard of living, or existing. The food was lovely, as was your company…” 

Both men looked like they were about to be physically ill from having to fake their emotions like this. They grinned at one another for a few more seconds, before Mr. Malfoy turned to leave, followed by his son and Harry. Harry couldn’t think of any other way to describe his best friend’s expression than smug. At the very least, Draco was satisfied with the events which had unfolded. 

Chapter Text

Mr. Malfoy brought the two teenagers with him to the stadium, where they climbed higher and higher on the stands, reaching the Ministry of Magic’s own box.

It was located high up, with an excellent view of the arena. It was easy to tell by just looking at the way the box had been built compared to the rest of the stands, that it was meant for finer people. The seats were stuffed and with backrests, they reminded Harry of seats at the opera, not that he had ever been to the opera, but he knew what splendor was expected at such a place. Harry recognised a few faces on the people in the box, namely the Minister of Magic himself, and a few other Ministers who he had seen in the newspaper. However, Harry’s attention was drawn towards a lonely House Elf who sat forgotten in the back of the box. Most people seemed to be mingling for the moment, with only the servant not moving or speaking to anyone. Harry couldn’t help but look at the little creature as the box attendant looked over Mr. Malfoy’s tickets before letting them inside. 

“Lucius, good to see you, good to see you.” The English Minister of Magic called the man to him as he noticed the Malfoys and Harry, waving a small, careful gesture at the children as well. “Allow me to introduce you to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, this is… Mr… Oblansk…” Fudge seemed to be struggling with pronouncing the man’s name. “He doesn’t speak English very well. This here is Lucius Malfoy!” He turned to speak to the Minister, gesturing towards the blonde man, he made some more strange gestures as he tried to communicate. However, all his gestures managed to do was make it seem like Mr. Malfoy had money, as Fudge failed to communicate anything but the fact that the Malfoys were rich. 

Mr. Oblansk nodded and shook hands with Mr. Malfoy, exchanging a greeting with a heavy accent. One which Mr. Malfoy returned politely, speaking in a completely normal tone compared to Fudge, who had adapted the speech pattern of talking to a child in his desperate attempts to make himself understood by the foreign Minister. Harry felt embarrassed about the Minister of Magic’s behavior, but he couldn’t exactly say anything, and wasn't too sure why he felt personally embarrassed.

“Excuse me, dear Minister. Perhaps I can be of service in this little predicament of yours?” A soft, smooth voice entered into the conversation. The voice was so very pleasant to the ear that everyone who heard it seemed to lose track of where they were or what they were doing, before turning to the source of the alluring sound. 

The source proved to be a woman, one who was so very beautiful that she didn’t seem real. Her skin was dark, standing in beautiful contrast to her bright eyes and golden jewelry. Her hair was cut millimeter short, revealing a small head with a long neck which looked like it had been sculpted with the intention to have it bear expensive necklaces. Her lips were full, and upon them danced a playful smile, which somehow seemed to enhance everything about her even further. She was dressed in expensive looking golden clothes, her robes by no means clinging to her, but neither attempted to hide what she was and the assets she possessed. 

“Ms. Zabini.” Mr. Malfoy greeted her. He was seemingly the only person in the company to not have been utterly stunned by her appearance. As he spoke her name, Harry realised with a startle that this was Blaise’s mother. He looked to the side to see if her son was with her.

He located him a little away, where he was speaking to a man who was likely not his father, as they had no features in common. The man with Blaise seemed to be glancing after Blaise’s mother, which lead Harry to the conclusion that the man was likely Ms. Zabini’s current partner. Harry’s assumption proved right when the woman answered Mr. Malfoy. 

“Mrs. Zabini, Lucius. How’s the wife, is she doing well? I haven’t seen her for ages.” The woman laughed, waving her hand as she did. Her laughter was so pleasant that it made Harry shudder. 

“She’s doing well, thank you. How is your current husband doing?” Mr. Malfoy wasn’t exactly challenging her, but there was a tension between them, one which Harry wasn’t certain was either hostile or competitive, or something entirely else. 

“Oh he could not be better. So very excited for the game, as most boys are.” She chuckled again, turning her face towards the Bulgarian Minister of Magic as she spoke, blinking her long, dark lashes towards him. The man swallowed. “Speaking of boys, is young Mr. Malfoy bringing his boyfriend to the game?” She instead turned to smile at Harry and Draco, winking at them with a cheeky grin playing on her lips. 

Draco and Harry looked at one another, both of them opening their mouths at the same time before turning embarrassed and turning away from one another. Harry had never before thought of Draco like that, not that he could remember at least, and having the suggestion pushed upon them by an adult made him very uncertain of how to act. He wasn't uncomfortable but very taken aback by the suggestion. Before any of them could answer her, she had turned towards the Bulgarian Minister of Magic instead, and was now speaking to him in Bulgarian. From what anyone English could tell, she sounded native as she spoke. 

“Draco, Lupin, you may go speak to your friend.” Mr. Malfoy noted before turning towards Fudge, who was staring at Mrs. Zabini with a transfixed look. “Minister? I was wondering if I may steal some of your time and discuss the upcoming Trimagus Tournament with you? I have a few simple questions in terms of the exchange student program; I may no longer be part of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, but I do have my merits, which is why I’d feel inclined to discuss it with you, should you allow me?” 

“Yes… Yes of course, Lucius…!” The Minister of Magic pried his eyes from the beautiful woman and focused on the blonde wizard instead. “Have you had any wine yet? It’s a Bulgarian one that they are serving. Very tasty.” 

Harry and Draco separated from the group of adults and moved towards Blaise and the young, handsome man who was apparently the current Mr. Zabini. Blaise looked as handsome as ever, the similarities to his mother were very clear now that Harry had met her, but Harry had to admit to himself that Blaise was more appealing to him than the older woman. However, he wasn’t quite as appealing as Draco who… did people really think that the two of them were boyfriends? That was a little weird, wasn’t it? Sure, they were around each other a lot and they got along really well but… dating? Draco was very handsome and all, and he had a really great smile but that didn’t mean anything other than that his friend was subjectively handsome, right? Harry bit down on his lower lip and chased the somewhat messy thoughts from his mind. It wouldn’t do to overthink just because he had become nervous about what someone else might think of him and his friend. At the very least, it was relieving to know that he didn't feel as bad as he had previous years when being accused of being in love with his friends, it just didn't seem as important, just a little odd.

“Hello, how nice to see the two of you here. I’m glad I’m not the only non sports fan to attend this game today.” Blaise's voice was smooth as well as he smiled at them, his voice hadn’t changed much since they last heard it, and he appeared equally mature as he always had. His expression turned a little pained when he locked eyes with Harry. “I’m… very sorry about what you’ve had to go through since the incident last term. This summer must have been rough, are you doing alright, Harry?” 

Harry had expected to be uncomfortable with Blaise, seeing as the other teenager had once again distanced himself from Harry upon the reveal of his dad’s condition. It was tiring to have the teenager leave so easily, and then come back when things had settled down. It made it hard to feel like he truly had a relationship with the other Slytherin student, and wasn’t just being used as a distraction when it fit Blaise. Then again, he couldn’t really blame the other for his actions. If he had the option to just turn away and allow himself to be impartial towards anything but his own well being and mental health, Harry might have found himself doing the same thing as Blaise was. It wasn’t inherently selfish to think of oneself, but it was selfish to demand that everyone around always adhered to someone else’s needs before their own. Blaise wasn’t doing anything morally bad or even questionable, but that didn’t mean that his behavior wasn’t tiring to someone who valued friendship and his bond to others. Harry had decided that Blaise was just a distant sort of person in his friend circle, somebody with whom he could talk and have fun with, but not someone he trusted to be an actual friend to rely on when matters turned grim. It felt like a good decision, as he could neither force someone to be his friend, nor could Blaise expect Harry to not feel anything regarding the repeated act of rejection, if they forced themselves to be close with one another. 

“I’m doing fine. The World Cup sort of overshadowed everything else, so that is rather relieving.” Harry smiled at him, while Draco seemed to find the other teenager’s words somewhat insincere, judging by his expression. 

The man next to Blaise spoke up, introduced himself as Mr. Zabini, and proceeded to ask if Draco and Harry were both Malfoys. He seemed to not be from the UK, as his accent was heavy and he seemed generally lost in the crowd of English and Bulgarian high standing members of society. 

“I’m the only child of the Malfoy family.” Draco politely explained, seemingly unbothered by the idea of Harry being his brother. “Harry Lupin here is invited as our family’s guest.”

Harry was a little bothered by the idea. He knew well that it was common for mage families to engage in polygamy, especially the Pureblood families, who struggled to find suitable marriage candidates but still wanted heirs of pure blood. As the English mage society wasn’t very big, it wasn’t strange that polyamorous relationships would be established between those who sought to find partners capable of wielding magic, rather than look to the Muggle world for love. It was not strange or insulting to think that Harry could have been a Malfoy, as it by no means meant that either adult Malfoy was suspected of unfaithfulness or adultery, but simply assumed that the family sought more pure blooded heirs from other bloodlines, as to not overcrowd the next generations with only the same blood. 

No, the reason as to why felt strange was because he had just realised that he could, in fact, be perceived as Draco’s partner, and to now be perceived as his brother made for a very strange clash of images.

Not to mention that anyone who looked at Harry and Draco could tell that they had very different clothing styles, which would make it seem like Mr. Malfoy was dressing one of his sons like himself, and the other in the equivalent of rags. Needless to say, the idea that someone would suspect that Mr. Malfoy would display open favoritism among his own children made Harry feel uncomfortable for the sake of what kind of person that would make the man. 

“Nice to meet you.” Harry mumbled, trying to be polite while wrestling with his confused emotions. 

Luckily for him, there was some ruckus by the entrance to the box, which stole the attention away from him. Blaise’s current father turned away, looking over towards the man who was arguing with the boxkeeper in Bulgarian. Mr. Oblansk noticed and came over to assist, soon enough allowing the man to enter alongside him. Said man was tall and had generally dark hair, a dark goatee and dark eyebrows, all of which were slightly stained with specks of silver, as age stole the darkness of his hair from him. His eyes were cold and aware, Harry got the impression that the man knew everyone’s location in the box, and kept a sharp eye on all of them at once. He was dressed in sleek, silver furs and general clothes which seemed too warm for British summers, although the man himself was seemingly unbothered. 

The man who had been introduced as Minister Crouch earlier that day had appeared sometime between Harry and Draco entering the box and the man in silver furs had entered. He now stood up from where he was seated, walking over to the Bulgarian Minister and the loud man. “What is the ruckus about now, Karkaroff?” Crouch demanded to know, staring at the tall man as if he was disgusted by him.

The wizard by the name of Karkaroff seemed to shrink together slightly, looking away from the man as if the Minister’s aura burnt him. 

To everyone but Mrs. Zabini’s surprise, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic spoke up in perfect English. “It seems that the boxkeeper has not been notified that Igor would not need to show his ticket, as he is the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute and Victor Krum’s personal guest. This is quite the failure on part of the British Ministry, as I doubt anyone would have questioned the attendance of Albus Dumbledore in this box.” He may have an accent, but it didn’t stop his sentence structure from being coherent. 

Fudge nearly choked on his own tongue. “You speak English? But here I’ve… I’ve…” He seemed to realise that he had been making a fool out of himself with his gesture game, and quickly quieted down, his expression like that of a tricked dog. 

“It seems the Minister is a little bit of a trickster.” Mrs. Zabini chuckled to herself as she looked at the foreign Minister. 

“How well to see you attend, Igor.” Mr. Malfoy greeted the Durmstrang headmaster, which earned him a displeased look from the man. 

“Lucius, you fox.” The man slowly nodded at him. “Enjoying wealth and fortune, yes? I read that you were kicked off the Hogwarts Board of Governors a few years back, I trust I won’t be seeing you during the Trimagus Tournament.” The Headmaster went straight to wounding with his words, the statements barely hidden beneath a thin layer of pretend politeness which nobody took for anything but a masked insult. 

Mr. Malfoy’s gaze shifted to Minister Crouch, who stared at both of the men with a displeased and stern expression on his face. The blonde man turned his attention back to the Headmaster. “Perhaps I will buy a ticket for one of the events and come visit Hogwarts like any other civilian,” he responded before turning back to the English Minister of Magic, continuing their conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted. Minister Crouch glanced at Karkaroff before returning to his seat, turning around to address his House Elf. Karkaroff, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and Mrs. Zabini continued to have a conversation in Bulgarian while Mr. Zabini wandered off to speak with someone he seemingly recognised who had just entered the Minister’s box. 

“...I get the feeling that Mr. Crouch doesn’t like your father, or the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute…” Harry whispered to Draco and Blaise. 

The two of them exchanged looks, before Draco answered Harry while reaching out to play with his cufflinks. He was not wearing his favorite snake ones, as he had explained to Harry that they were too valuable to him to risk losing them at an event such as the Quidditch World Cup, where they likely would never be found again. Harry had been happy and humbled by the expression of how much the cheap cufflinks meant to his best friend. 

“Due to my family’s belief in purity of blood,” Draco began whispering, making sure that only Harry and Blaise could hear him. “Many believed that they were supporters of you-know-who. No matter what accusations they tried to force upon my family, they were all proven to be false or unsubstantial. Back then, Crouch was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he was famous for his cruel methods. He was ruthless and brutal to the point where some likened his behavior towards that of the Death Eaters he condemned. He has always been hostile towards my father, because he believes that he got away, or something like that.” The blonde wizard was speaking the way he was since Blaise was there, avoiding stating the facts which he and Harry knew to be true about Lucius Malfoy in such a public place. 

Harry could tell that it hurt Draco to speak of the accusations towards his family, even now that his father and mother had made an effort for his sake to be at least better than in the past, for the sake of their son. The blonde wizard seemed tired and uncomfortable, his expression reminding Harry of his own dad’s, and just how much accusations alone could hurt and tire a person out. He reached out to give Draco’s hand a squeeze, earning him a thankful smile from his best friend. 

“Minister Crouch’s son was accused of being a Death Eater, he was ruthless during the trial, condemning his own child to Azkaban.” Blaise whispered, trying hard not to glance in the man’s direction. “Many believe that if he had actually continued as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the British mage community would look very different. I’m not sure if you read about it, Harry, but when Black escaped, many pointed to Minister Crouch as the solution to the problem. They tried to get him reinstated, but he rejected the post in favor of his current one. Nobody knows why.” 

“No, I wasn’t following the politicalness around that escape, just where he had been sighted and so on.” Harry gave his associate a strained smile, imagining the peaceful scruffy dog Snuffles as he curled together in front of the fireplace. A free dog, although not a free man. “I’m just glad all that is over with.” 

“The Durmstrang Headmaster is actually a convicted former Death Eater.” Draco whispered in an even smaller voice. “However, he was released because he provided information which led to the capture of some notorious Death Eaters, including the Lestrages and… well… Crouch Jr. He’s seen as a hero throughout most of Britain, someone who may have been wrong, but changed his ways and helped save lives in providing assistance against you-know-whose army. The danger in going against the rest of the Death Eaters, even after the fall of the Dark Lord is by no means small.” 

Harry was about to ask something more, but his words were overpowered by a loud whistle which effectively quieted the stadium down. Somewhere to their right, the commentator of the game had taken his place at the front of the box. It seemed that the Top Box didn’t really have assigned seats, as everyone in it seemed to sit down in any available seat. Although nobody approached the seat next to Minister Crouch, leaving the chair by his side empty, while the House Elf was standing behind it, seemingly planning on peeking at the game through the seats. Harry couldn’t help but think that it would have been far more humane to offer the elf the free seat, rather than just having her remain behind her owner. 

The game was starting, judging by how tight Draco grabbed his hand next to him, as excitement got to his muscles as well. Harry turned to look towards the arena itself as well, awaiting the players. He hoped that wherever the Weasleys and their guests were, they were having a great time watching the game. If he got bored during said game, he decided that he would see if he could find them somewhere in the sea of people. 

“Mages of all ages and countries, it is my great honor and exciting pleasure to welcome you to the 1994 Quidditch World Cup finals, featuring a game between Ireland and Bulgaria!” The commentator’s voice boomed over the stadium, earning cheers and screaming from every stand. Nobody in the Top Box made much of a fuss, but some did applaud politely as the commentator spoke. “This World Cup final is being sponsored by Butterbeer CO, Welsh Pumpkin Juice Incorporated, Gringotts Magus Bank, and the Nimbus 2001 edition brooms, brought to us by Nimbus Racing Broom Company.” He rambled through the sponsors and then raised his wand. “I give you now… the players of the Irish team!” 

From somewhere below, fliers appeared on their brooms, clad in green and with silver details on their clothing. From the end of their brooms flowed green and silvery smoke, reminding Harry of the Slytherin House colors more than it did remind him of the Irish flag. The team flew in a synchronised arc, with their colored tails remaining in the air before it quivered, becoming a rainbow. The rainbow hung in the air, then broke out into colorful fireworks which made Harry cover his eyes as the stadium screamed with excitement. 

“And now, their opponents, the Bulgarian team!” The commentator screamed, as did the stadium as the team flew from whatever place they had been, deep below by the ground. 

This team appeared much like the Irish one, only their tails were scarlet red and black, their coloring somehow being far more aggressive than the softer green of the Irish team. One flier moved away from the group, speeding in front of them as he spun the broom, effortlessly putting on stunt after stunt to the wild crowd. Somewhere behind the three teenagers, the Durmstrang Headmaster spoke the name Victor Krum, and he was congratulated for having such a noteworthy student. The short exchange of praise reminded Harry about the way British mages often praised one another for their Hogwarts Houses, while there was no actual effort on anyone’s part to belong to a House. The Headmaster’s given praise for the achievements of his student sounded equally false to Harry as that kind of House biased praising. 

The Bulgarian team flew high in the air, their smoke suddenly turning into fire, rising upwards like the breath of a dragon, rising higher and higher until the players flew to the side, leaving Krum floating in the center of the fire trails, as if he was floating on top of a fountain of fire. The crowd cheered and screamed, Harry wondered how many screamed for the team, and how many screamed for Krum. Nonetheless, the noise was making Harry’s head throb, so he covered his ears, although the show didn’t demand that he closed his eyes from the flashing lights. 

“Stunning! The crowd is ever so electric this evening, the teams are ready for the game to begin, this is Luco Bagman, and I am ready for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup! By the count of three, the Golden Snitches will be released, and the Quaffler will rise! Count with me, Quidditch fans! One… Two…!” 

The stadium screamed with him as the players hovered up to face one another, with the two Seekers hovering behind the other teams and a little below them. 

“Three!” Bagman and the stadium screamed, as the Quaffler was thrown up in the air. Both Seekers looked around, with the Irish one pulling herself away from the battle for the Quaffler, while Krum chased after a golden flash which only he had seen. 

It didn’t take long for the teams to begin scoring points, with Krum managing to catch a Golden Snitch within the first five minutes. For at least a while, Harry found the game to be the most entertaining Quidditch game he had ever seen, but the novelty quickly wore off. Draco was deep into the game, cheering and supporting Ireland while not allowing himself to be too excited, due to how it would affect his personal image. It was somewhat amusing to watch the blonde wizard struggle with keeping his inner Quidditch fan down for the sake of his public face. Harry wished that he would have been allowed to cheer for his team however he wanted, but he also understood that it wasn’t acceptable for a Malfoy to become one of the screaming masses. 

Harry looked around to find that at least some people were bored of the game as well, as conversation had begun to take place around him in the Top Box, with the commentator still yelling into his microphone, undisturbed by the subtle conversations happening a few feet away from him. Blaise's mother was speaking to the Bulgarian Minister, and Crouch was staring into the wall next to him, seemingly finding the game very boring. Mr. Malfoy and the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute were both displeased with being next to one another, but didn’t seem entirely hostile towards the other. 

Harry turned to Blaise, who seemed equally bored as he was to be watching a game about madmages on broomsticks. “How come you are here watching a Quidditch game? I didn’t think you cared about sports,” Harry finally asked.

Blaise chuckled, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, casually continuing to observe the game as he spoke. “Mother’s husband learnt that she would be working during this game as an official translator, and he decided to get us tickets as well. Us being me and him, as every young mage clearly likes watching Quidditch.” Blaise rolled his eyes, his commentary causing Harry to chuckle slightly. “Now he seems pouty that mother has to work, which is the very reason she is here. I would introduce you to my mother, but she is rather busy right now. She is a scholar, knowledgeable in five different languages and works as a translator for a lot of Ministry business. She is a close friend of many important people etc, etc… I’m rather sure you understand where this introduction is going.” 

Harry nodded. “She seems to be a very impressive person. I believed the Ministry mostly used translation spells, rather than people?” He questioned, hoping that he wasn’t being rude in asking. 

“Translation spells are very flimsy in the first place. They are only capable of translating words, not syntax, sentence structure, or tense. It becomes messy very fast, especially in business or political context. A translator is far more reliable than any spell which currently exists.” 

Next to them, Draco cheered alongside the rest of the stadium as Krum and the Irish Seeker caught one Snitch each, at almost the exact same time, while the Bulgarian team scored another ten points. 

“Say, Harry?” Blaise began, approaching whatever he wanted to speak about more carefully than Harry could remember him approaching anything. 

“Yes?” The son of a werewolf looked at his associate, waiting for him to continue. 

“...Would you tell your father that he was a great teacher, and that he will be missed at Hogwarts? Whoever comes next has some big shoes to fill.” Blaise gave Harry a weak, surprisingly honest smile. 

Harry stared at the other teenager before a grin spread over his lips, lighting up his face. “I’ll tell him. Thanks, I’m sure he will appreciate hearing it.” He felt a lot better knowing that Blaise wasn’t opposed to Remus, but had likely pulled back because he didn’t want to be involved in the situation at all. 

Blaise smiled back, before returning his gaze to the Quidditch game. Harry did the same. The two of them soon began to chat once more about books they had read during the summer, talking back and forth as the game continued. 

The 1994 Quidditch World Cup pulled to a close, signalled by a loud whistle which caused Harry to have to cover his ears to escape from the noise. He was happy that he had, as the stadium quickly filled with screaming and cheering when it was revealed that Bulgaria had won. Krum had dominated the Game of Seekers, catching a staggering eight out of ten Golden Snitches, which was absolutely shocking to the history of Quidditch, or at least so Bagman yelled. The battle had been tense and while no team had been quite able to pull away from the other in terms of point gap, Bulgaria had finally won. 

The two teams were gathering in the Top Box, where the seats had been pulled back and left everyone standing as the sweaty, dirty team members gathered in the box. More than a few of them had gotten a bit bruised up by the game, which Harry found rather worrying but which nobody else seemed to even note. Karkaroff moved over to his student to wipe his face clean before allowing him to turn towards the two Ministers of Magic, who ceremoniously presented the Bulgarian team the Quidditch World Cup, much to the delight of at least half the stadium. 

Harry was rather tired at that point, with a variety of sound, noise and lights draining his energy until the point where he was rather ready to go back to Malfoy Manor and fall asleep in Draco’s fluffy bed. He tried to pay attention to the ceremony, but he was more than a little happy when Bagman explained everything to be over. The players were congratulated by the Ministers in the box, and Karkaroff beamed from the attention his student was being given. 

The box was cleared out of players, who all seemed eager to get out of their uniforms and either start celebrating or take a nap. Krum glanced towards the three teenagers when he passed them, raising his hand in a polite greeting. All of them smiled at him and waved back. It wasn’t much more than simply acknowledging the young, possible future athletes on Krum’s part, but Draco’s fellow Slytherin students could tell how happy it made the blonde teenager to have been at the very least seen. It wasn’t going to get to his head, Harry knew his friend far better than to assume that, it was simply a nice gesture from Krum which the Quidditch fan happened to enjoy. 

“Well then… I suppose I will be paying for your drinks tonight, Mr. Minister.” Fudge spoke to the Bulgarian Minister as the two of them, as well as Zabini’s mother walked towards the exit to the top box. 

“As agreed.” The man looked ahead, seemingly in a very good mood as his team had brought home victory that evening. 

“Blaise, dear, I will be joining the Ministers and Mr. Karkaroff for celebratory drinks. You go home with Charles and I will see you tomorrow.” Zabini’s mother stopped quickly to give him a kiss on the head before hurrying after the three men. 

“Of course. I will see you two in school.” Blaise waved his mother off before standing, bid his schoolmates goodbye, and walked over to his current father. 

Harry and Draco watched him go, waving after him before turning towards Mr. Malfoy, who approached them now that most important adults had left. Only Mr. Crouch was left, and he seemed intent on remaining until the end. Harry wondered if it was normal for the man to simply sit and stare like he did, but he wasn’t about to question it, as the man’s wrath frightened him. He’d much rather ask his dad about more information about Crouch later, somewhere where the man would never know about it. 

“You have not lost anything?” Mr. Malfoy questioned as he looked over the two of them, then adjusted his son’s lapel just for good measure.  

Both boys checked their pockets, Harry opened his jacket to reach inside his inner pocket, checking to make sure that his wand was still there. It was safe and secure in his inside its assigned pocket, so he closed his jacket once more, as Draco confirmed that he had both his wand and jewelry. 

They were given the same instructions as before, both of them grabbing onto the man and one another before Mr. Malfoy touched the Portkey with his bare hand. The travelling was just as uncomfortable as the first time, but Harry was at the very least prepared this time, which probably helped. They appeared inside the forest from which they had set of from, but instead of waiting for the carriage to come pick them up, Mr. Malfoy apparated them back to the mansion. 

The combined travelling methods caused both the teenagers to feel rather ill, thus, they were excused from dinner and instead provided with food in Draco’s room, much to both their excitement. They were forbidden from eating in the bed, and a table was instead arranged for them to eat by. Harry was thankful for Malfoy Manor's distance to everything, enjoying the overall silence, where the only sounds came from his friend speaking about the legendary Quidditch World Cup which they had the fortune to witness. Harry listened and ate his dinner, but he didn’t really feel like he contributed in any way to the conversation. 

Draco was still speaking as they got dressed for bed, Harry was only able to hear every second word by the time he slid down under the covers. Something touched his foot, and thus, he hooked his toes around it and pulled out his missing sock, blinking at it. He decided to throw it down at the floor, hoping to avoid Draco noticing that he had only been wearing one sock the entire day. 

Harry fell asleep next to his best friend that night, thinking that it was rather nice to know that he could attend a Quidditch game without the world ending. The last thing he remembered was Draco speaking about how this day would go down in history. 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Chapter Text

The day seemed to be a day like any other when the two of them woke up, got dressed, and headed downstairs to attend breakfast, after which Remus would come pick Harry up. Neither Harry, nor Draco expected anything different about this day, but when they reached the dining room and found only Narcissa Malfoy, and then noticed she wasn’t seated, both of the boys knew that something was wrong. 

“Draco… I…” She trailed off, looking around as if something around her could help her voice the words which she didn’t know how to arrange into a coherent sentence. “Your father had to go to the Ministry… I… there…” In her hand, she held a copy of the newspaper for that day, although she was keeping the front page away from them, hidden against her skirt. She tried yet again to find words, but she finally surrendered and handed the two of them the copy of The Daily Prophet, trying hard to keep her face a mask of sternness in a futile attempt to appear collected. 

Harry felt his heart sink as he looked upon the newspaper in Draco’s hand, feeling how it became harder to breathe with every word he read. His mind circled around a single thought, a single thing which he managed to formulate in his head: this isn’t happening. 

SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

The Dark Mark poisons British skies once again in the aftermath of a riot which took place last night at the campsite of the Quidditch World Cup; St. Mungos fills with wounded mages!

Yesterday, Bulgaria won the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, gaining notoriety in Victor Krum’s outstanding victory in the Game of Seekers. The British mages may not have been celebrating the victory of their country, but the celebrations were lively and happy. It seemed as if the festivities were going to continue all night, when the scene of celebrations turned into a nightmare of terror.

Figures dressed in similar attire to that of followers of He-who-must-not-be-mentioned appeared to begin a flame based assault on the camping sites located the furthest away from the Quidditch World Cup stadium. The fire quickly spread as the mages advanced on the terrified participants of the Cup celebrations, the dry grass catching on fire as well, further adding to the inferno. None has been reported dead, although St. Mungos Hospital is currently reporting some cases of highly damaged mages who might not make it through another night. Many have been helped to the hospital to be treated for burns and smoke damage. 

As the security team and the present Ministry workers and Aurors rushed to get the fire under control, the assault continued by the terrorists, who are not confirmed to be Death Eaters, but suspected of possible connections to He-who-must-not-be-mentioned. Nobody at the Ministry of Magic could be reached for an interview or comment, but as the situation currently stands, the attackers will be referred to as terrorists. 

However, that was not the end of the terrors of the previous night, in the middle of the riot, as the terrorists were chased towards the woods, the Dark Mark appeared on the sky. The terrorists fled, or perhaps left in victory, leaving only the fire and the Dark Mark behind. The forest is currently being searched for any bodies, but so far, none has been discovered. Neither has the caster of the spell, although an abandoned wand was located and tested positive as the wand which cast the spell. The owner of the wand is being investigated by the Ministry, but it is unclear if the perpetrator is truly the owner of the wand or if the wand was stolen from them. 

As it currently stands, there are far more questions in regards to the riot than there are answers. 

The British Ministry of Magic is facing heavy criticism for allowing these events to transpire during such an important exchange of comradery and border-overlapping exchange of culture. The riot has brought about many questions about security. The damages which will be sought by those who lost property in the fire, and those who were damaged by it, will likely cost the British Ministry of Magic thousands of galleons. Worried mages are now turning towards the cultural exchange between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, questioning if the Ministry will be able to provide the ample security for the minor centered Trimagus Tournament. More on pages 4-6. 

On the front page was a photo of the Dark Mark, the green snake was almost lazily moving over the dark clouds, sleepily dancing from the open mouth of the human skull where it had seemingly nested. Harry couldn’t help but get the uncomfortable feeling that the snake knew and revelled in being watched, knowing fully well how terrifying it appeared to all who raised their heads to observe it. 

Harry had only seen the Dark Mark once, and that was during the boggart lesson last year, when Draco faced his worst fear. He found himself chewing on his lower lip as he nervously glanced towards his friend while he tried to figure out the best approach to ask Draco if he was alright. There was probably a lot of things which he could or should have focused on other than how his friend was feeling, but at that moment, having read the article and knowing that the picture on the front page captured was what Draco feared more than anything, Harry’s mind wouldn’t allow him to focus on anything but the wizard next to him. Before Harry managed to formulate himself, the blonde teenager raised his head, focusing on Mrs. Malfoy. 

“Mother… father was… he did not leave again yesterday, did he?” Draco slowly asked, he was not hesitant as much as he tried to not engage in a direct confrontation. However, it was evidently important for him to ask. His expression was not bold, not determined, not strong. Instead, he looked ever so hurt, slightly desperate, and evidently scared. However, added to all those emotions, there was a need to know, and honest, open plea for communication. 

“Draco…” His mother breathed slowly through her nose, her expression settling to a mask of disapproval, a mask which was cracking at the edges. “You would not think to accuse your own father of servitude to the Dark Lord.” It wasn’t a question, it was a somewhat more controlled outburst. 

“I would want nothing more than to never suspect my father of anything. I would want him to be absolutely innocent in every way.” Draco tried hard to control his voice, but it was clear that his emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. He wasn’t screaming, but he had raised his voice slightly. “But father hasn’t proven to be trustworthy, he hasn’t proven to be innocent. He tried to lead an entire coup of murder against innocent minors at Hogwarts for Merlin’s sake! I know that he is trying better, I want to believe that he was trying, but… But…” He looked down at the newspaper, his voice breaking and he became silent. 

Harry glanced between the two Malfoys, observing as the mother’s mask cracked and she reached out to pull her son into her arms, holding him close as she put a hand over his head. Draco tensed up in her arms, acting as if he was expecting her to try and convince him to let the topic go for the sake of their family. 

“I’m sorry.” Narcissa Malfoy mumbled, stroking over her son’s head. “I know that your father has failed you, and that you feel betrayed by his past actions. But in this, Lucius is innocent. He was with me the entire night, I know, because he spoke of the game for hours on end.” 

Draco bit his lower lip, then hugged back, the two of them seemingly having forgotten Harry. The Malfoys’ guest could tell that his friend wasn’t entirely convinced of his father’s innocence, but he seemed relieved to have his mother understand his concerns, and acknowledge them. Rather than providing excuses for Lucius Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy took care to present evidence, or at the very least testify of her own experiences. 

The son of a werewolf felt a little confused to hear that Mr. Malfoy and his son seemed so… similar. He had only seen the man around other adults, practicing self control and distance to all those around him. It was strangely endearing to learn that the father, just like his son, could apparently spend hours speaking about something he was interested in. Harry couldn’t imagine it, but he liked the idea that even such a man as Lucius Malfoy could be excited about something, even if the only person to ever know that excitement was his wife.

Harry felt out of place during the moment between the two Malfoys, and briefly wondered if he should just back out of the room and leave them alone. Before he could choose an action to take, there was a soft knock on the door. The voice of a servant was heard beyond it. 

“Madam? Mr. Lupin has arrived before the scheduled meeting, should I allow him inside?” 

Mrs. Malfoy stroke over her son’s head one more time before allowing him to go, then turned her body towards the door while straightening her clothes. “Yes. He must be worried about his son, do not keep the man waiting, let him in.” 

“Assuredly, Madam.” The voice responded, followed by the sound of footsteps. 

It did not take Remus long to arrive at the dining hall, he wasn’t running but he was walking as fast as a person could without breaking into jogging. He spotted his son and rushed over capturing him in a hug. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” His dad breathed out the question as he leaned back to see his face. 

Harry nodded, trying to give his dad an encouraging smile, which didn’t quite come off as sincere. “We returned here before any of that took place, me and Draco and Mr. Malfoy were long gone by the time the riot took place.”

“Yes… ah, g-good…” The man mumbled as he straightened up. He turned towards the Madam, giving her a polite bow of his head. “I’m sorry for coming unannounced, I was simply so worried. Thank you for receiving me.” Remus likely felt a little silly for coming running, especially since he logically knew that Harry and his company had been supposed to be back at the mansion directly after the game. 

Mrs. Malfoy shook her head, waving his concerns to the side. “Any worthy father would have done the same.” She stated. 

“Dad,” Harry spoke up, raising his head so that he was looking at the tall man. “Our friends were there, at the camping site. Would you please take us, uh, I mean me, to the Burrow?” It had become so natural to speak for himself and Draco that he accidentally included Draco into his request without thinking. “I need to know that they are all safe.”

Before Remus could answer, Draco spoke up. “I would like to come as well,” he stated, before looking to his mother for approval. 

Although her jaw tensed, she still gave her approval by the means of nodding. Remus looked to her as well, upon which she calmly announced her support verbally. “He may, but I want him to return home before eight tonight.” 

Remus nodded. “Very well… Harry, Mr. Malfoy, grab onto my arms.” He instructed them. “I don’t know in what state we will find the family in, and we might even be asked to leave without seeing anyone. However, I trust you both to not act out of line.” 

Harry and Draco grabbed one arm each, nodding as their former teacher instructed them on what they should expect and do. If Draco was as uncomfortable touching and holding onto Remus as Harry was touching Mr. Malfoy, he didn’t show it. Mrs. Malfoy didn’t appear to mind that the man planned on apparating from her dining room, and if she did mind, she wasn’t showing it. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for them to leave, not defensively or to make a statement about being displeased, but likely because she might be feeling lonely in seeing both her husband and son leave at such a stressful time. 

Her son noticed, and so he spoke to her before they apprated away. “I’ll be back soon, mother.” 

She nodded at him, smiling weakly. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

The Burrow appeared as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but additional rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked in a way which was impossible to achieve with mere Muggle architecture. A total of four or possibly five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof, every other color of the house somehow managed to clash horribly with that red roof. Remus had apprated to a spot right in front of it, but far enough that the full building could be seen from where they were standing. Draco couldn’t help but scrunch his nose slightly, but Harry assumed it was because the architecture and color of the building offended him, not because he couldn't possibly stand the idea of being in a poorer family’s home. After all, Draco had no problem with the Lupins’ house, his only dislike towards Harry’s home came in the form of discovering the hard way that not every home had unlimited amounts of hot water. 

The group hurried towards the doors, with Remus walking before the two teenagers as they approached the building. Next to the brightly colored door hung an old looking brass bell, one which Remus’ rang. There was some noise from inside, voices which Harry couldn’t make out, then the door opened to reveal Percy Weasley. He looked like he had been dressed properly, but his once white shirt was now darkened with soot, sweat and grass stains, and the tie hung limply over his shoulder, likely being thrown there to remain out of his way. His eyes looked tired, and his face was dirty, but he made a valiant attempt to appear presentable to the strangers. However, upon realising that he was looking at his former werewolf teacher, he allowed himself to relax. 

“Professor.” Percy nodded, then stepped aside. “Mother? Professor Lupin is here.” He showed for them to enter, then led them towards the kitchen. 

On the way to said kitchen, Harry glanced around in the Weasleys’ home. He didn’t know what he had expected from the home, but everything was somehow just as he expected. There were things everywhere, small, large, normal looking and absurdly shaped. Every surface had something on it, and the walls were covered in endless family pictures and portraits. The house smelled strange, not bad or good, but a curious mix of familiar and non familiar scents, of food and unknown plants and herbs. The Weasley family and their guests were located in the cluttered yet decently large kitchen. 

“Professor! Harry, Malfoy!” Hermione’s voice met them first, where she hurried over to them and more or less threw herself around Draco’s neck, hugging him tightly. This time, she didn’t seem to care about speaking in a lighter voice, just allowing her words to come out the way they did. “Oh I’m so happy to see you… We were worried that you might have gotten caught up or hurt.” She rambled. 

Draco hugged her in return, carefully patting her back. “No, we left right after the game.” He assured her as the young woman choked back a sob. She had clearly had a very rough night, and she was not the only one by far.

Neville and Ron were with her, neither of which seemed hurt, they looked tired and dirty, although not to the same extent as Percy. Neither Mr. Weasley nor any of the oldest siblings were there, but the mother of the family was fussing over her daughter and one of the twins by the other end of the long dining table. Ginny’s hair had been roughly cut off on one side, and she was keeping what seemed to be a cold, wet towel pressed against her neck and cheek, leading Harry to the conclusion that she might have gotten burnt by the fire. One of the twins was sitting by the table as the other stood behind him, the seated twin’s hands appeared to have been burnt, and Mrs. Weasley was trying to treat them with some manner of ointment as she mumbled worriedly to herself.

“Oh Ginny… your beautiful face, and hair... and George’s hands… how will you be able to do anything like this… Whatever did you need that thing for? You should have just left it…”  She fussed, glancing at her daughter’s face and then turned away quickly, as if it was too hard for her to see the wound. 

Remus walked over to the other end of the table, carefully pulling out a small potion vial from his inner pocket. “Molly?” He gently addressed her, causing her to look up from her son’s hands and towards the bottle. 

“Oh! Is that… a healing extract? Whatever are you… Remus, please, we couldn’t possibly accept such an expensive gift…!” She objected loudly, shaking her head. 

The man looked a little uncomfortable over her refusal. “I do not need it. It was given to me by Severus, and he has already stated that he will make me another one, should I need it.” 

She stared at the little vial, as if it was tempting her. Then she slowly reached out and accepted. “You’re too kind… thank you so very much.” She turned back to her children as Remus gave her a small smile. The woman then stopped, seeming to consider which one of her children she should give the vial to, as there wasn’t enough to give them both. Her eyes came to rest on her daughter, but before she could make a choice, Ginny spoke up. 

“Mom, give it to George. He’s actually using his hands everyday, I will be fine.” She looked almost insulted over the fact that her mother considered hers and her brother’s wounds to be equal enough to even begin considering who most needed the extract. 

“But Ginny, your face! You’ll become scarred!” The woman spoke of the scarring as if it was the worst possible thing which could ever happen to anyone, the word escaping from her lips like it burnt her tongue to speak it. 

Behind her, Remus flinched ever so slightly. He averted his eyes, turning his scarred face from the gathered group as he became self conscious about his own scarred appearance. 

Harry felt a throb of annoyance, and he opened his mouth to say something, object in some way, but before he could figure out what to say, Ginny spoke up before him. 

“Mom, a scar on my face doesn’t matter! A tiny little scar is just a little scar, it doesn’t make me any less of what I was before the scar. Also, I plan on becoming a Professional Quidditch player, my nose is pretty much forfeit already. Besides, scars are cool.”  She was referring to the fact that most Quidditch players broke their noses at least once during their careers. When she mentioned that scars were cool, she glanced towards Harry before quickly looking away. “You’re acting as if a scar will ruin my life, well, it won’t.” 

Behind her mother, Remus smiled weakly, clearly not as self conscious now as he was a few seconds prior. 

“You’re right… you’re right… My children are so very clever, helping your silly mother when she is wrong…” The woman mumbled as she turned towards her son, and began to prepare the hands for the healing extract. 

“What… happened yesterday?” Draco addressed his friend in a subtle voice, his voice kind and gentle as to not stir up too strong emotions in anyone. Hermione had let him go, but was still standing next to him. 

“The situation got out of hand.” The seated Weasley twin grinned, before his expression turned pained as his mother began to treat his wounds with the extract. It wouldn’t heal him instantly, and there would take time for him to recover even after the skin no longer hurt. Still, the healing extract would help the skin heal better and significantly lower the risk of infection in the wounds, probably even prevent the skin from bigger long term scarring. 

“Ron, you take your friends up to your room, I’ll get you tea and a snack later. Just out you go, it’s getting crowded in here.” Mrs. Weasley half chased them out, waving her hand at them. 

As Ron nodded towards the house, signalling for his friends to come with him, Ginny turned towards her former teacher. Harry heard her ask a question as they left the room. 

“Do you cut Harry’s hair, Professor?” 

Ron led his friends upwards in the house, leading them higher and higher on unstable looking stairs up to his room. It was seemingly located beneath the attic, with a sign on the door which read ‘Ron’ in bright orange letters. The teenager hesitated before opening his door, allowing his friends to walk inside. Their eyes were assaulted with orange. The walls were orange, and all over the room were pictures of a Quidditch team whose uniforms were bright orange as well. It seemed that there were only necessary things in the boy’s bedroom, with a desk, a chair and a bed. A few shelves had been hammered into the walls and an empty rat cage had been thrown into a corner. Ron didn’t seem to have a lot of books or clothes, but on his wall hung his school robes. Most of the carpet was covered up by a mattress, which Harry assumed Neville had been sleeping in during his visit. Harry and Draco stopped to take in the orangeness of the room, before they entered. Draco peeked at the closest picture of the Quidditch team, nodding slowly as he recognised them. 

“Chudley Cannons.” Draco commented. “I didn’t think they played anymore.” 

Ron shut the door behind them, looking somewhat uncomfortable with Draco looking at his posters and photographs. “Well… they do… They are just… They just aren’t that… uh, noticeable anymore…” 

“I think one of their Chasers recently left for another team.” Neville carefully weighed in. 

Harry and Hermione looked at one another with a look of understanding. They both assumed that the others would start talking about Quidditch, and they couldn’t really give any comments on that topic. When Ron answered, the two friends realised that they were, indeed, right. 

“Don’t speak about her betrayal. I’m still hurting in my heart.” Ron whimpered, although it was rather evident that he was playing up his feelings a little. 

Draco shook his head. “She wasn’t their best player, I for one don’t understand why she’d be chosen over…” 

The three of them got lost in speaking about Quidditch. Perhaps they needed it to escape the feeling of dread and shock which had captured them all in its clutches. Neither Harry nor Hermione minded their discussion, but as they couldn’t participate in it, they pulled themselves to the side, with Hermione sitting down on the chair next to Ron’s desk as Harry peeked out the window. They were rather high up, and he stopped to take in the view of golden fields and the bright, almost cloudless sky before turning to his friend. 

“So… how are you doing?” Harry considered sitting down on the mattress, but he decided against it. He could stand, he was still young, he supposed. 

“Oh I’m… I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt.” Hermione answered, a weak smile playing on her lips. “I never thought… I didn’t think that…” She trailed off twice before shutting her mouth as she stared down at her hands. “I guess it was beyond silly of me, but I didn’t think things like this… happened to mages. I don’t know why, as I know of the Mage War, but I…” She fumbled with her fingers as she spoke, playing with her nails in a way which Harry deemed a little dangerous. He carefully reached out to pat the back of her hand, bringing to her attention what she was doing to herself. “Oh… Yes, forgive me…” She mumbled, keeping eye contact with one of the many orange posters in Ron’s room. 

Harry decided that she needed some space, instead turning to Neville and Ron, as the Quidditch interested group had noticed that their two friends weren’t able to participate in the conversation. As they turned, they noticed Hermione’s expression, and collectively concluded that they should probably pay attention to her and Harry. Not because they had to, or were socially expected to, but because they wanted to help ease their friend’s worries, as the question of what had happened the previous day still hung heavy in the air.

“If you do not mind me asking, what happened to your group yesterday?” Draco repeated his question, looking at Neville and Ron as he asked. “Me, Harry, and my father all returned home right from our seats. We didn’t stay or participate in the celebrations at all. All we know is what was written in The Daily Prophet.”

“We attended the game, of course, all of us. It was amazing. I’ve always wanted to see a world class team compete.” Neville began speaking, looking from Draco to Harry as he spoke, then smiled appreciatively towards Ron before he continued. “We weren’t exactly ecstatic that Ireland lost, but the Game of Seekers was so amazing that we were rather happy. The three of us and all the Weasley siblings were preparing to celebrate, but there was some loud ruckus from outside. Mr. Weasley went outside to check, and he came back with this shocked and haunted look on his face. He told us all to leave, hurry up to exit the tent and run towards the forest. When we all went outside, the world was a sea of flames. There were screams coming from every direction, with tents burning all around, and people running for the woods like spooked cattle.” 

Hermione shuddered at his words before moving her arms up around her, hugging herself. Harry wished that he had some chocolate to share with her, but he hadn’t brought any with him to Malfoy Manor. Now when he thought about it, he realised that he had completely forgotten his bag in Draco’s room with all that had happened. Oh well, at least he had his two socks. He just had to make sure to pick up the bag when Remus dropped Draco off later that day. 

Everyone noticed, her actions caused Neville to stop speaking. Ron took over in his stead, so as to not cause Hermione to feel bad over having halted the conversation without even speaking. 

“Dad and Percy joined the efforts to put the fires out and to help people flee. We began running towards the forest as the tent caught on fire. George suddenly stopped and ran back to it. He apparently forgot something, he won’t tell us what, but apparently it was important enough for him to need to go back to the tent. That’s what caused his hands to get hurt. Me, Neville and Hermione got swept away by the crowd and didn’t see any of that ourselves, but luckily, Fred and Ginny managed to get him away from the fire before he got hurt any worse. When they tried to make it to the forest, one of those Death Ea- I mean, terrorists, threw a fire charm of some kind at them. It caught Ginny’s hair, but Percy was close by, and he cut her hair off with a cutting charm. He aimed really well, cut her hair off and only graced her cheek and ear a little bit, barely even a wound. Mom is pretty mad at him for ruining her hair, which is kind of weird considering the alternative… ” Ron trailed off when he realised just what the alternative meant. He lowered his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Your mom is just trying to forget what could have been lost by focusing on what was lost, as a way of cooperating with her anxiety.” Neville carefully patted the red haired teenager’s back. “It tends to happen when someone is trying to avoid thinking of the alternative, instead opting to fuss about the lesser loss so as to not have to think.” 

Harry nodded at his words. “It is not because she doesn’t care, but because she knows that she couldn’t express herself about the potential loss without breaking,” he filled in. Once more, Harry was reminded of the fact that Neville knew more than any boy his age should about loss and cooperation with loss. He tried to not think too hard about it.

“Still…” Ron muttered. “That comment about scars was really unnecessary. Professor Lupin looked so hurt, not to mention that you were there too…” He looked towards Harry, who couldn’t help but let his fingertips touch his own scarred forehead. “I’m glad Ginny told her off. Speaking of Ginny, are you really alright with her using your first name?” He continued to look at Harry as he spoke, but then looked at Neville and Draco in turn. 

“She’s using all of our first names?” Draco questioned, a displeased frown twisting his, to Harry, pleasing features. 

Ron shrugged, evidently nervous. “She just… has been doing it since my second year. She sort of sees you as heroes after what you did to save me from the Chamber of Secrets. She’s been all of your fan since then.” 

“Our fan…?” Neville mumbled as his cheeks heated. “You mean she feels that way about me too…?” He licked his lips, avoiding to look at anyone of them as he grappled with the idea that someone would find him worthy of being a hero. He could understand why someone would think that of Harry, as well as Draco. He would probably not even have batted an eye if someone told him that they viewed Hermione as an inspiration or idol, but he couldn’t really see anything worth admiring about himself. 

“Don’t let fame get to your head.” Draco teased him, pushing him with his elbow. 

Neville smiled and pushed him back with his own elbow, although far lighter than Draco had pushed him. “If I can be friends with you, Harry and Hermione without getting delusions of grandeur, I do believe I will be fine.” 

There was a knock on the door before Draco could answer, and Ginny entered without being allowed to. Her previously long, red hair had now been cut short, in a style similar to Harry’s but somewhat more flat. Actually her hair was shorter than his, seeing that it had been a while since Harry last cut his hair. Her cheek and neck were still scorched by the charm which had been thrown at her, but she didn’t show any sign of pain or that she had trouble moving. Ron seemed slightly annoyed by her rejection of his privacy, but before he could complain, she spoke up. 

“Wanna play Quidditch?” Ginny beamed at them. “Mom is making some snacks alongside Professor Lupin, and I thought we all could use some cheering up. Draco, you can use George’s broom, and you can use dad’s broom, Neville. I know that Hermione and Harry don't play, so I won’t ask any of you to play.” She grinned at them, unintentionally confirming to everyone present that she really was bold enough to use all their first names. 

Harry considered if it was worth correcting her into using his surname, but he found that he didn’t entirely mind her using his first name. Since he wasn’t minding her brother using his first name, it felt a little silly to demand that she used it. Thus, he opted for not saying anything about it, instead just nodding at her. Draco seemed more displeased to not have been addressed as Malfoy, but his annoyance seemed to fade when there was Quidditch to be occupied by. 

“Very well… What rules do you play by?” Draco asked, following her towards the door. 

Neville and Ron looked at one another, before glancing at Harry and Hermione. The young woman stood up, showing them all that she was about to come with them. Thus, the group migrated downwards and out on the fields. Harry and Hermione sat down on one of the half broken benches which faced the fields. From their bench, they could see the pseudo Quidditch arena.

They were sitting in front of the golden fields, under clear blue skies, with the gentle wind ruffling their hair and whatever was growing on those golden fields. Somewhere above them and to the left, a windchime was playing its music to the peaceful world. The scene felt calm, so very calm that Harry almost found it abnormal. He wondered if every day at the Burrow was this serene. If it was, he understood well why someone would want to remain here and just allow themselves to partake in that peace. He completely understood what Hermione had meant when she spoke of how much she adored this place.

In front of them, the other teenagers began flying, breaking the stillness with their game, but not to calmness of it. Harry glanced towards Hermione, and noticed that she still seemed to be stressed and emotional, which was very understandable. 

“Say, Hermione?” His words made her raise her head, glancing towards him from underneath her long, messy hair. “If you need to talk, or want to talk, I will listen to you. Whenever, wherever. If you need it, I’m here.” He gave her a gentle smile, leaning his head to the side. 

She returned his smile, then licked her lips while avoiding his eyes. “I really… I really don’t want to talk right now but… If you could, that is, if you don’t mind… I could really use a hug…” She wasn’t so much speaking as she was mumbling. “If you could just… hug me… and hold me… I’d be… thankful…” 

Harry raised his arm, allowing her to slide closer to him, their sides touching as she rested her head against his shoulder. Harry put his arm around her, careful not to touch anywhere which would make her uncomfortable. She curled up against him, and closed her eyes. 

“I’ll hug you as much as you want.” Harry promised her in a small voice, making sure that his words were only for her to hear. 

Harry looked forward again, watching the game unfolding before them on that peaceful day. The chime continued to play above their heads, but it didn’t play loud enough to cover up the sound of the young woman crying. The son of a werewolf let her cry against him, he kept his arm around her, trusting that she would ask him if she needed more than just his arm and his closeness. 

Chapter Text

The rest of the summer felt like it swept by without Harry really experiencing the individual days as they turned into the next day. Remus, but especially Sirius, were hesitant about Harry visiting the Malfoys any more that summer, but far more eager to allow Draco to stay with them. They never accused Mr. Malfoy of anything, and they never changed their opinion on his son, but the two men were unable to forget Severus Snape’s warning, and therefore found themselves more comfortable to have Harry remain with them and invite Draco to their home, rather than have Harry stay at Malfoy Manor. At least with how things were for the moment. They hoped that they might be able to trust their sort-of-shared-but-mostly-Remus’-child to stay in the same house as Lucius Malfoy again, somewhere in the future. 

Hermione stayed over at the Lupin household once, but she seemed to have found a connection with the Weasley family, and spent a lot of time there for the remaining days of summer break. She wrote to Harry that she would be joining the Weasley children on their way to the Hogwarts Express on the first of September, and that she was looking forward to seeing him and her other friends again. The connection to mage society seemed to do her good, as she had been steadily improving since the day after the terrorist attack. 

Harry, his dad, and his dogfather left for the Hogwarts Express early, as they always did on the days when Harry left for school. They arrived at the hidden platform, and made their way to the back of the train. Snuffles tried to get on with Harry, and had to ultimately be lifted off the train by Remus. Remus didn’t let him down again, but instead held the large dog in his arms. This suited the canine just fine, as his vantage point improved significantly. 

While they waited for the rest of the passengers to arrive, Harry and Remus held a conversation, with Harry inside the train, hanging out of the window to speak with his dad, who was in turn standing on the platform, holding his, on paper, service dog. As they spoke, more and more people gathered at the platform. However, to all of their surprises, a few students stopped to speak with Remus, or at the very least wished him a good day. Harry could tell how happy it made his dad, judging by the dog’s wagging tail, Snuffles enjoyed seeing his fellow pseudo-canine's happiness as well. A few people wanted to pet Snuffles as well, which the Professor allowed, causing the dog’s tail to wag even more. At least for Snuffles, the crowd and rush weren't bothering him.

With the help of Remus’ tall figure, Harry’s friends found the compartment which he had reserved for them all. Draco arrived first. Only his mother had joined in dropping him off, and she stopped for a minute to address Remus, before she left again. During her polite but not forced conversation with the werewolf, her dog-disguised cousin did his best to make the weirdest dog faces and noises in attempting to interrupt the conversation. They were still noises and expressions of a canine, but quite the odd ones. It didn’t work in his favor, she only glanced at him once. When she had left, Remus threatened to put him down again, after which Snuffles became a very obedient dog once more. 

The whistle sounded, signalling that the Hogwarts Express was about to set out. Remus stepped back, waving towards Harry and his friends as the train began to roll out. In his arms, Snuffles waved a paw as well, in a gesture which made him seem far too human for an animal, but luckily, nobody seemed to notice in the crowd of waving mage children and families. 

Harry’s compartment ended up hosting himself, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Nott. Nott was the only one in the compartment who had been mostly absent from the others during the summer break, and while he was not anyone’s close friend, he was a person who they all felt decently at ease being around. While Neville and Harry had been unable to meet each other a lot, they had still kept active letter exchange going.

They group began by chatting to one another about their summer breaks, but as most of them had been around the others throughout most of the break, the available information to exchange with one another quickly depleted. It became somewhat patronising to tell Nott everything they all already knew, so they stuck to summaries mostly. Besides, nobody in the compartment likely wanted to talk about Death Eaters and terrorists.

After a short discussion about Quidditch, most occupants of the compartment began to look through their bags for something to read. Hermione and Draco both pulled out their copies of the day’s newspaper, Neville searched for a book in his luggage, while Nott looked for a book which he was excited to show the others.

Ron reached for his own bag and opened it. As he did, something shot out of it, launching into the air before exploding into a colorful firework. The one firework became many, filling the entire compartment with smaller fireworks which released a large amount of glitter all over the people gathered. The display had been loud, colorful, intense, but also short, leaving only the glitter behind to prove that it had happened. 

Most of them had just stared at it, not even Harry had managed to utter a sound during the short display. He now found himself staring blankly at what was left of the display with an open mouth and a horrified look on his face. He wasn’t the only one who had been scared, Hermione’s eyes were wet, and Neville looked very pale. Draco had bit his lower lip, his wand in his hand as he had half gotten up from his seat. Only Nott seemed transfixed with what had just been, his eyes shining with mad glee. 

“Sh-! I’m so sorry!” Ron apologised, noticing just how much the display had scared and affected his friends. “Fred and George are sort of going nuts with their… joke products! I didn’t know it was there, I swear. I’ll tell mom and have her scold them, gosh, I’m so sorry…” He repeated once more, staring at his bag with an honest expression of dislike and disapproval. He seemed more than a little ashamed and scared to have had something in his bag which startled his newfound friend group.

Nott got up, sending a cloud of glitter all around him as he jumped to his feet. “That… was… awesome!” He cheered. “Your brothers made that? I mean, it was way cool, but I bet it could be even better! I have to go talk to them right now, I’ll be back later… what a rush!” He yelled the last as he bolted for the door, the glitter flowing around him as he ran, creating a colorful cloud trail behind him. 

Draco slowly sat back down as he attempted to brush the glitter from his clothes. He looked like he was trying very hard to hold back his anger in an attempt to remain dignified. He knew that being mad with Ron would gain him nothing, thus he tried to contain himself in not blowing up at him. 

“Does anyone know… any cleaning spell for this…?” Ron mumbled as he looked out over the glitter carnage, his expression a sheepish one of pain, regret and shame. 

“I think Professor McGonagall used one to clean away dog hair last year…” Neville looked to Hermione, hoping that she would be able to recall what the spell had been. 

“Oh, yes! Yes, of course…” Hermione’s face lit up as she realised that she did remember that spell. She pulled her wand out, causing everyone to let out relieved sighs over the fact that they wouldn’t be glitter covered for the rest of the year. She uttered the spell, and to their relief, it worked. The glitter gathered into a ball in the air, which they placed in the trash bag of the compartment. 

“You have collectively saved all our lives… Thanks, Hermione…” Ron sank back in his own seat, sighing deeply. “Bloody dinguses…” He muttered the last words to himself. 

Draco sighed as he pulled his hand through his blonde hair, slowly shaking his head. “I cannot say I appreciated that, thank you for cleaning us up.” He nodded at Hermione, who smiled as Harry and Neville thanked her too.

Harry leaned back in his seat, looking down into the trash can, at all the glitter. He thought about what Ron had said about the whole thing being a joke, and he wondered what had actually been funny about it. The so-called prank had been loud, bright, and all together rather scary. The fire in the fireworks had seemingly triggered bad memories from the terrorist attack at the Quidditch World Cup in both Neville and Hermione. Ron would probably never be able to open a bag again without fearing that his siblings had sneaked something inside of it. In the end, nobody had even been there to enjoy the display of frightening Ron and his friends, and thus all there was to it was the fear and inconvenience caused for the people experiencing it. The only one who had even found the joke remotely funny had been Nott, but he was a person who seemed to desire distraction and thrill more than anything. Since he was very likely depressed in some manner, loud distractions were probably something that he felt like he needed. Especially if he suspected that his own dad had been involved with the Quidditch terrorist attack, then he might desire even more mind-halting distractions. Harry considered speaking to Nott later, maybe he could help him feel better by speaking about Nott’s inventions, if only for a little. 

Next to the green eyed teenager, Draco had opened his copy of The Daily Prophet, and was reading the article which had so prominently been featured on the front page. The title read ALASTOR ‘MAD-EYE’ MOODY’S HOME ATTACKED! 

Harry gently pushed his friend with his elbow, causing Draco to look over at him, waiting for a question. “Do you mind if I read with you?” Harry asked. 

“Not at all.” The blonde mage shifted the newspaper so that the son of a werewolf could read it better, then settled back in his chair to read.

ALASTOR ‘MAD-EYE’ MOODY’S HOME ATTACKED!

Break in inside former Auror’s home reported by the neighbours last night; Ministry officials called to the scene to find Mr. Moody safe but aggressive, his house turned upside down!

Yesterday, the last day of August, neighbours of Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody heard violent noises and shouting from his home. It is not unusual for Mr. Moody to raise a fuss; after his retirement from the Auror business, the man has become infamous for seeing Death Eaters everywhere. His actions and suspicions have led many Ministry workers to check up on him and his household. Thus, the disturbance itself was not too big of an occurrence for Mr. Moody’s fellow mages. That was, until a flash of green caused them all alarm, and Ministry professionals were called to the scene.

When the Ministry professionals arrived at the scene, they found a roughed up Mr. Moody, who came to greet them. According to reports, the man allegedly yelled at the officials that “They were too late!” and that “If this is the standard we will be accepting from now on, we all might just lay down and perform the killing curse on ourselves, since the intruder would have killed me five times over by the time you dogs showed up!” His commentary was yelled at the officers, before he refused to let them enter his home.

However, complications arose when Muggle officers arrived at the scene, and had to be convinced to leave the scene once again by the gathered Ministry officials. After a considerable amount of time, the professionals were able to enter Mr. Moody’s house, where they confirmed that some manner of attack had taken place. Mr. Moody witnessed that his attacker was masked, and thus did not allow any form of identification. Further, he stated that the masked attacker had apparated away before the Aurors had made it to the scene. According to one of the Ministry workers, it seemed that somebody had turned the house upside down, pulling out drawers, books, and thrown items all around. The worker stated to The Daily Prophet that it very much looked like someone had been searching feverishly for something. The Ministry officials made certain to enforce that Mr. Moody should contact them if he found that anything had been stolen. The former Auror then chased the Ministry officials out, and closed the door on them, saying that he needed to pack for his journey to Hogwarts.

Mr. Moody’s wand was tested for the performance of the forbidden killing curse, but came out negative. No further legal actions will be taken against the former Auror, as this particular occurrence did in fact place him in danger.

Mr. Moody may be a retired Auror, but he will be working as the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry for a year, starting the first of September, 1994. The wizard will be taking over the position from Mr. Remus Lupin, the infamous werewolf who worked at the school for one and a half years before the reveal of his nature. Hopefully, the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher may prove safer to keep around children and minors.

Harry leaned back in his seat, displeased, angry and bothered emotions all wrestling for dominance on his face. He did not like in the least that the article had found the need to bring up his dad and hurt him like that. He couldn’t help but think of his dad, alone in the house, once again experiencing the world turning against him for something that he couldn’t help.

Then, Harry remembered that Remus wasn’t alone.

Remus had a partner. For the second time in his life, Remus was experiencing a different love than family love, a love that he had likely desired and needed all his life: the love between partners. Not to mention, there was also Sirius. Harry smiled to himself as he recalled Snuffles stealing newspapers from Remus after said papers had hurt him by calling the werewolf a dangerous individual, and promptly proceeding to rip said newspaper apart. 

Harry couldn’t let an article get him down, he wouldn’t allow it to get him down. It was just words on a page after all, the words would be replaced by new words, until everyone had forgotten about those previous words. It would take time, and it would be hard until then, but at the very least, this was temporary. Sooner or later, the world would stop caring. Harry tried to find solace in that. 

“Why would they call him that?” Hermione’s words were annoyed and comparatively loud, as she angrily lowered her newspaper and stared down at the front page which displayed a house labelled as Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody’s. “Why would they call him ‘Mad-Eye’? That is horrible…” 

“Well, it’s because he has this crazy eye that…” Ron began, but when Hermione looked at him with such disapproval that he shut his mouth. His cheeks began to heat as understanding dawned on him, causing him to nod to himself. “I...I see your point… I’m… I get it.” When he thought about it, Ron realised as well as her that giving people cruel nicknames based on disfigurement wasn’t exactly a humane or kind practice. 

“In the case of Moody,” Draco spoke up after Ron, urging Hermione to direct her anger in his direction. “He does not mind the nickname. I understand why you feel that it is slander, and unfair towards him as it makes a mockery of his appearance. However, Moody has cited that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him or his appearance. He could have had any normal eye prosthetic if he wished to, but he has specifically chosen his, well, mad-eye, because it gives him an advantage with being able to look in any direction, unhindered by, well…. most things.” The blonde wizard explained. “It could be that he was just forced to get used to it, but even if it was, you’d only insult him if you tried to protect him from slander at this point. It’s far better to not use the nickname since you find it offensive, and call him Mr. Moody instead.” 

Hermione huffed weakly, surrendering to the truth of her friend’s words. “I don’t… like it…” She admitted. “But I guess you are right… I can’t really do anything about it since he is an adult, all I can do is really just be respectful on my own, despite what the world says.” She nodded to herself, looking determined to be the best she could personally be. 

“When you are the Minister of Magic, maybe you can change things then?” Neville suggested, smiling gently at his friend in a way which made him appear more handsome than just a second ago. 

Hermione looked embarrassed before she quickly nodded. “Yes, yeah, sure… when I am the Minister of Magic…” She nervously joked and lifted the newspaper up and hid behind it. 

Draco turned to Harry, giving him a smile. “Do you want to keep on reading with me or do you plan on reading on your own?” He asked as the son of a werewolf avoided looking into his pale, beautiful eyes. 

“Nah, I’ll just… read on my own, thanks.” Harry nodded at him, before beginning to look for a book to read in his luggage. 

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was a comparatively calm one. The friends spend most of the journey reading, the stillness broken by small conversations, and Ron’s snoring, as he fell asleep with his head resting on the wall of the train. For the rest of the ride, all felt peaceful. 

In contrast to the calm stillness of the Hogwarts Express, Harry experienced the Great Hall as loud and intrusive. He was happy to be back, and he looked forward to the feast, but the happy and warm atmosphere which he had expected seemed to not really be as present as it usually was by the beginning of the year. It took the son of a werewolf some time until he noticed what was different, but when he did notice, it became obvious. Some people and groups were avoided by the rest of the students, creating gaps on the benches. It was happening by every table, but most of all by the Slytherin. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, and least by the Hufflepuff table. 

Harry looked around after they had been seated, and realised that his group was one of the groups which people avoided. The group consisted of himself and Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, as well as Blaise and Nott. Hermione, Neville and Ron were seated by the Gryffindor table, as was expected of them for at least the moment. Their little trio was apparently unaffected by the avoidance.

This caused Harry to consider what might be causing the divide. He could only think of one reason, one thing which could possibly connect the behavior with the people and groups which were being avoided: affiliation with Death Eaters. Draco’s father was a well known Death Eater suspect, as were the Crabbe and Goyle families suspected of affiliation with Death Eaters. Nott’s dad was a confirmed Death Eater, which made him especially worthy of avoidance. Harry looked further down the Slytherin table, and found that he could single out a few people in the same predicament as his friends, all of them having gaps around them.  

The realisation of how the Quidditch terrorist attack had affected the climate at Hogwarts made Harry feel a little ill, his stomach aching with nervous anxiety. He had already been through a lot of accusations in regards to his own supposed dark powers, and affiliation with forbidden and Dark Magic. Not to mention the ignorance in fearing him because of his dad’s condition. He did not want anyone to have reason to freeze him out or suspect him or further misconduct but… what could he do? There was no way he would abandon any of his friends, or leave Draco alone to face the potential accusations which risked arising.

Harry chewed on his lower lip, trying to not let his anxiety affect him. He came to the conclusion that he would simply do as Hermione had decided that she would do; namely not try to change the world, but instead focus on what he could logically do for the moment. He would keep his head down, try and just remain out of focus, and be polite and kind towards those he interacted with. Some would suspect him, and other people like him, no matter what he did, thus he decided to give them as many reasons as possible to doubt that he would ever step out of line. Yeah, that plan would surely work, if at least only a little. 

Harry gathered his courage and leaned forward, calling his friends a little closer so that he could speak to them without disturbing the sorting ceremony. He licked his lips before beginning to whisper to them. “Hey, everyone? So, I’d hate for there to be a misunderstanding later on… For what it’s worth, I was staying at Malfoy Manor during the night of the terrorist attack on the Quidditch Cup. Mr. Malfoy never left the mansion after we returned that day, and Mrs. Malfoy never left to begin with. I just wanted you all to know that even if people might talk, the Malfoys were not physically involved in that attack.” He didn’t say that the family wasn’t involved whatsoever, as he didn’t know if Mr. Malfoy was, but he stressed that the Pureblood hadn’t been present during the riot. Hopefully he could trust Narcissa Malfoy's words regarding her husband, he truly wanted to believe in the woman's words. If nothing else, Harry felt that he was willing to risk being a little deceitful for the sake of Draco being safe and comfortable.

Nott and Goyle nodded, while Crabbe avoided looking straight at anyone. 

“I bet my old man was there…” Nott spit out an accusation in a low tone of voice. “I can’t prove it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t worry, nobody is going to accuse anyone without proof.” Nott continued, his statement gained a few nods from the people gathered. “If we start attacking one another, we’ll all fall.”

“Very true.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Besides, we all know better than to judge one another based on the actions, perceived or not, which our parents have performed.”

To Harry’s surprise, Blaise nodded. “You are correct, I would not enjoy being judged based on someone else’s actions.” 

Everyone knew that Blaise wasn’t the type to really stick up for anyone which made his words appear somewhat sarcastic. Still, they all felt like there was some meaning behind his words, rather than just mockery. Harry assumed that Blaise knew more than most what it was like to be judged for his parent’s actions, as his mother had quite the reputation due to her rather frequent change of marriage partners. 

“I mean… we are all friends, right?” Goyle smiled nervously at them all. “If we have troubles with one another, we should talk it out and not ignore it.” 

“Sounds great.” Harry smiled at him, then to his fellow Slytherin students. “Can we agree on not spreading rumors and instead talk to one another if we are struggling?” He suggested, looking hopefully at his friends. 

Parkinson was the only one who hesitated to agree, but in the end, they all nodded, approving of the idea. The unity among his friends made Harry’s heart feel lighter right away. Judging by Draco’s relieved expression, he felt the same way. 

The sorting of the first years was completed, with some new faces joining every table. Harry didn’t know anyone who would be sorted that year, which led to him and his friends mostly whispering to one another about this and that as the ceremony went on, only breaking their conversation for the sake of applauding every now and then.

Harry couldn’t help but think back again to how it had appeared that every person in the entire hall was watching him as he was sorted, and how it felt like absolutely everyone had stared and was paying attention to him. To some extent, it might be true that Harry Potter received more attention than other first year students upon his sorting, but in hindsight, Harry probably wasn’t as observed as he had felt back then. It had mattered, it wasn't that he hadn't been noticed, but time still had moved on and thus the event hadn't affected his continued schooling too much. No matter if the event itself had been as bad as he remembered it, it still passed. 

The Headmaster rose to his feet, drawing attention towards him and the teachers’ table as he did. Harry sneaked a peek towards Professor Snape, who appeared oddly lonely without Remus by his side, seeing how Harry had seen the man together with his dad over more or less the entirety of the summer. The teenager noted that the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher wasn’t present by the teachers’ table, which seemed slightly odd. He also noticed that Hagrid wasn’t by the table either. As he hadn’t earned his teaching license yet, it was not very surprising. The old wizard who had educated them last year was seated next to Professor McGonagall, seemingly enjoying conversing with her. She looked pleased in return, although she kept on glancing towards the empty seat, likely wondering as Harry was why the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher hadn’t arrived yet. 

“Dear students, old and new, you are all most welcome to Hogwarts.” Professor Dumbledore held out his hands towards them all, as if welcoming them into his embrace. His expression and posture was open and cheerful, it seemed to beam at them all personally, as if he really was excited to greet them. Harry couldn’t help but think that the old wizard yet again appeared like a grandfather, one who had missed his grandchildren and was overjoyed to see them again, while also trying his best to not overlook a greeting in favor of moving on to what he really wanted to talk about. “Before I move on to telling you about this upcoming year at the school, I must go over some rules.” 

Harry noticed how a few older students around them stopped listening when the Headmaster repeated the same rules which they had heard over and over again for many years now. Harry did his best to listen, but he found his mind drifting off, called to adventure and dreams by the old wizard’s calming voice. 

“Now, allow me to begin with telling all of you students about the exciting details of the Trimagus Tournament, as I am quite sure you are all eager to learn more than what the newspapers have been telling you.” As he spoke, a door sung open behind the teachers' table with such force that it slammed into the wall. The door created a loud and sudden noise, which startled at least half of the assembled people in the Great Hall. Many teachers spun around to see what had caused the noise, as the Headmaster himself looked towards it with polite confusion. 

In the doorway stood a man. Harry was a little too far away to see him clearly, yet he felt as if he could feel the wizard’s paranoid and heavy aura all the way to where he was sitting. From the little he could see, the man appeared rough, like all his features had been carved out of wood by a not too careful woodcutter, as scars covered his entire face and likely most of his body. His expression was hard, haunted, yet impossibly stern. He seemed to stare down the entire Great Hall as the people inside it stared at him. One of the man’s eyes appeared normal, while the other was a big, vivid, electric blue orb. Even from where Harry was sitting he could see it moving, dancing around his skull as if trying to keep every single person in the hall under surveillance at once. Slowly, he started moving, the normal eye locking on to the teachers’ table as the other likely kept on observing the world around him. As he walked, Harry noticed that one of his legs was actually made out of wood, its heavy contact with the ground sending echoes around the very silent hall as he approached the table. 

The Headmaster moved his chair back a little before coming around the table to shake the man’s hand. The two exchanged silent words to one another, before the old wizard showed towards the free seat by the table, towards which the newly arrived man headed. He sat down heavily, only nodding towards the other teachers and professors who glanced towards him with various expressions of displeasure and worry. 

“Students and colleagues, allow me to introduce the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher: Alastor Moody. Mr. Moody shall be acting as your teacher for only this year, by my own personal request. He apologises for his late arrival, and hopes that he did not cause you too big of a shock with the opening of that door.” The old wizard chuckled, making a few other mages participate in his laughter as the newly arrived man hauled a bottle from inside his coat and drank from it. 

The Headmaster hadn’t needed to introduce the man, everyone knew from the eye alone that the teacher had to be Alastor Mad-Eye Moody. Most didn't quite dare looking at him, but the man’s electric blue eye appeared more than eager to stare anyone and everyone down. 

The old professor thought for a second, but then continued where he had left off. “For those of you who are not familiar with the Trimagus Tournament, it was first established around three hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of magic: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute. A champion will be selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools have historically taken turns to host the tournament once every five years, and this year, Hogwarts has the honor to welcome our international friends to Britain.” 

The old wizard stopped to smile at the students, but he probably needed a short breathing break as well before he continued speaking. “The tournament was created to foster relationships between the schools and promote friendship, as well as allow exchange of information between the students and teachers from different nations. Both the schools will of course be bringing a collection of students who will be competing for the honor to represent their respective houses of learning. Those who were not chosen as the champion will be attending Hogwarts this year as exchange students. They will be taking classes alongside the sixth and seventh year students of Hogwarts, and graduate for the year alongside you. I expect you all to treat them well, and be patient with the fact that English is not their native language.”

The Headmaster took another short breathing break before continuing on once more. “The Ministry of Magic has for some years been eager to reinstate the Trimagus Tournament, and has now managed to do it. That means that Hogwarts will not only become host to three large events this school year, or simply hosting visitors from other nations, but that the three tasks will take place on Hogwarts grounds. The tournament is sponsored by the Ministry, and there will continuously be many people coming and going during the weekends in which the events take place. As I stated last year, the tournament is likely to come to provide a distraction in your study year, which could potentially become problematic for your studies. I will not pretend that this is not a fact. Thus, I want to stress that anyone who feels like the events are distracting them should speak with their Head of their House or teacher of choice, thus be allowed extra counseling or assistance. The hosted events are only mandatory for the champions, and the events will only take up a total of three weekends. It has been designed to be as little in the way of the other students as possible, but should you need it, help is freely given to anyone within Hogwarts, should they but ask.” 

“For those students who find themselves interested in competing for Hogwarts, I remind you now that no participants below the age of sixteen will be permitted to compete. Even then, you will need permission from your parents if you are below eighteen, and you will likely have to retake a year here at Hogwarts, as your year will mostly consist of the tournament. The person who is chosen to champion Hogwarts will be speaking to the Head of their House about their studies, and formulate plans to finish up their studies next year, for the sake of allowing them to place their focus on the tournament. That being said, the student is expected to attend all their classes as usual, although full completion of the year will not be demanded, instead, some leisure will be offered.” 

The Headmaster was interrupted by people objecting to the idea that the champion was excused from a collection of things in regards to studying. 

The old wizard simply chuckled at them. “Previously, the champion was expected to compete while completing the entire school year as well. Many burnt themselves out quite badly, and failed in both academics and the Trimagus Tournament.” He scolded the loud students gently, easing them back in their seats with sullen looks on their faces.  

“For the Trimagus Tournament this year, the tournament will be attended to and looked over by Mr. Crouch’ Department of International Cooperation and Mr. Bagman’s Department of Games and Sports, from British Ministry of Magic. The three champions will be participating for the honor of their school, as well as for a hundred Galleons. Thus, the tournament is going to be far more an impressive event this year, at the hands of the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry have decided to reinstate the tournament under the condition that new safety rules are used, including the rule that no student under the age of sixteen will submit their name for consideration.” He smiled at them with a glint in his eyes as a few people began to whisper to one another.

“Ah, yes, some of you have noted that I said consideration, rather than selection. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Trimagus Tournament, the champions were traditionally selected by the use of the Goblet of Fire, in which all who wished to enter the tournament placed their names within, and the most fitting candidates were chosen. This year, as arranged by the Ministry of Magic of Britain, France and Bulgaria, the artifact will be used sparingly. The Goblet of Fire will not be on open display, and only a total of nine names will be placed within it, three names from each school. The Goblet is the final judge, but the people are carefully chosen beforehand with the help of teachers’ approval, and their parents’ approval should the student be below eighteen. I state this now for the sake of clarity: nobody is to place their name in the Goblet without strict monitoring and approval. The Goblet will not be on display and students will not be allowed to access it.” The old wizard stared down at the students, eyeing them with a serious look on his old face, one which showed both compassion and worry. “The Goblet is a powerful magical artifact, and to protect those who wish to enter, the teachers will be closely monitoring and evaluating who is allowed to even attempt to initiate a contract with the Goblet, as the contract with the Goblet is binding.” 

“Now, with all this said, allow me to speak a little longer,” the old wizard’s expression returned to the usual kind one he often wore, as he smiled at his students. “The delegations from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute will arrive by the 30 of October, those of you who wish to become Hogwarts champions should speak to the Head of your Houses, or a trusted teacher, and be evaluated for entry. The three names from each school will be placed within the Goblet of Fire, and the champions will be announced the following day during dinner. Now, now, I’ve kept your attention for so long! My dear students, enjoy the feast!” 

As he exclaimed the last words, the plates before them filled with food, and the jugs and jars filled with various drinks. The Great Hall became full of life and noise as people began partaking in the feast. Around them, the older students who were allowed to enter the tournament began talking about the prospect of entering, while some of the younger students complained that they wouldn’t be allowed to compete for their school.

Harry didn’t care too much about the tournament, but he was more than happy about the topic having seemingly overpowered all thoughts and conversations about anything that wasn’t the Trimagus Tournament. Perhaps the tournament would help distracting from the unrest regarding Death Eaters and terror attacks, and thus let Harry and his friends go unnoticed for a year. As he put some potatoes on his plate, he noticed Hermione, Neville and Ron approach their side of the Slytherin table. They weren’t the only ones crossing over to other tables, it seemed to be happening a little everywhere around the Great Hall. 

“Hi Zabini,” Hermione greeted him as she sat down next to him. “Nice to see you.” 

Blaise didn’t answer her right away, as he was staring over her shoulder towards Neville, staring at him with an almost lost expression. If his skin hadn’t been so dark, his cheeks might have even been red, but as it was, Harry couldn’t tell if his associate was blushing or not, but he most certainly seemed to be. Next to Blaise, Nott followed his gaze, before his expression turned sour, and he looked down at his food, seemingly searching for a means of escape from the situation. Blaise snapped out of his trance before smiling at the newly arrived Gryffindor students. 

Pleasantries were exchanged before everyone began to eat, however, it didn’t take too long before a careful and gentle voice pushed its way into the conversation, interrupting enough for the owner to get their attention. When Harry looked towards the owner, he found Luna Lovegood standing next to their spot by table, her pale hands playing with a copy of The Quibbler as she looked directly at Harry. 

“Hello, fellow child of a werewolf,” the girl began, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Her words caused Harry to chuckle.

“I have noticed that many seem to practice the art of exchange this year. So in preparation for the cultural exchanges, I have opted to begin practicing as well. Thus, I was wondering if any of your seats are free tonight?” 

“You’re welcome.” Harry smiled at her as he showed towards the empty seat next to him. “Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood, fellow child of a werewolf.” Harry called for his friends’ attention. “She’s one year younger than us, but I hope nobody minds.” 

“Nah, you’re cool!” Nott grinned at her, jumping at the chance to escape his unpleasant mind space. “I love The Quibbler, your dad is my hero. I’ve been reading the newspaper since I was, like, ten.” 

“You do?” The blonde girl smiled absently at him in return, she appeared to struggle a little to focus on his face, instead avoiding his eyes in a way she hadn’t done with Harry’s. In a sense, she appeared almost shy. “That makes me very happy to hear. Dad will be very happy too.” 

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” Draco hurriedly interrupted Nott before he could drown the girl in an avalanche of words and leave them all nameless to her for another year to come. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Oooh, French. I see you are practicing too.” The daughter of a werewolf nodded approvingly. 

Draco glanced at Harry as if to ask for help, but Harry just shook his head slightly, showing that he shouldn’t try and challenge her view of the world. Maybe one day, but not here and not now. 

“Yes, I do speak French.” Draco concluded, it was impossible to know from just the statement if the teenager really did speak French or if he was just trying to not make the girl seem strange. 

“I’m Blaise Zabini. Pleased to meet you.” Blaise smiled politely, his attention continuously going back to Neville. “I, too, speak a little French.” 

“My name is Neville Longbottom, I like your necklace.” Neville tried, leaning his head politely to the side. 

“Thank you.” She absently played with her corkscrew necklace as the teenager complimented her. 

“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you, Luna. You can call me Hermione.” The young woman skipped past the awkwardness of boundaries and allowed the younger one to address her with familiarity.

“Ron Weasley. Just Ron is fine, nobody knows who Mr. Weasley is anyhow.” The red haired teenager shrugged. 

“Call me Vince, this here is my girlfriend Pansy.” Crabbe spoke up, shocking Harry with how dark his voice had become. He had heard it before the feast, but in the silence, it was easy to forget that the previously soft boy had matured so much. 

Parkinson let out a little squeak and pushed him with her elbow. “You romantic you! But I can introduce myself as well, I’m Pansy Parkinson, that is Parkinson to you. Actually all of you. Except for my boyfriend, of course.” She beamed at Crabbe, who smiled back and put an arm around her. The arm made her immensely happy, and she cuddled up to him. The two of them seemed to be very happy. Harry couldn't recall ever seeing Parkinson so very confident, which truly was an improvement to the girl who had first come into their circle of friends. Crabbe seemed very confident and satisfied with himself, as well. 

“You didn’t tell us you were dating!” Nott exclaimed before reaching out to high five them both in turn. “Congratulations!” 

“Thanks!” Parkinson returned the high five before snuggling back up to Crabbe, looking like the cat who got the cream, which she, in her eyes, of course had. “Don’t be jealous now, any of you.” When she exclaimed that they shouldn’t be jealous, she looked directly at Hermione, and then at Harry, who both stuttered out responses. 

“I’m not…!”

“W-we aren’t…”

“Not that you shouldn’t be happy!”

“Yeah, congratulations!” 

Harry glanced at Draco as he stuttered out barely coherent words, as Hermione was doing her best to not look at anyone. Parkinson looked even more satisfied as she reached out to fill her boyfriend’s cup with some of his favorite drink, which he thanked her for doing. 

Behind the two partners, Goyle leaned forward. “I’m Goyle. Hi.” He waved, as Luna waved back. 

“Hi Goyle. What a cool name you have.” She lowered her hand before reaching out to fill her plate with the strangest looking food she could reach. Harry wondered if it was a matter of taste, or a life choice which made her pick the least appealing looking foods from the table. 

The feast continued on, with people speaking mostly about the Trimagus Tournament, before the Great Hall slowly began to empty of people. Harry and his fellow Slytherin returned to their dormitories while the Gryffindors and the lone Ravenclaw headed in different directions. The first day of Hogwarts was drawing to a close, and Harry was happy to fall onto his bed and roll in under the covers for a pleasant night’s rest. He didn’t have to wait long for sleep to claim him, as the food and the journey helped lull him to sleep almost as soon as he had lay down.

Chapter Text

Harry reached for the big teapot which stood in the middle of the table, pulling it closer to himself before lifting it and pouring himself a cup of tea, his eyes sleepily drifting over his friends. Next to him, Draco stretched his arms over his head, making Harry notice yet again how much taller the other was, even when sitting. Hermione was half nodding over her cup of tea opposite the two of them, as Neville and Ron both reached for the same piece of bread, which they both then tried to surrender to the other. Nott was lying face down on the table, he might have fallen asleep again, while Blaise read his copy of The Daily Prophet next to his fallen comrade. Crabbe, Parkinson and Goyle sat a little away, they weren’t avoiding their group of friends, but they seemed to have found another friend group who they wanted to sit with that morning. Goyle was struggling to keep his eyes open, while Crabbe and Parkinson had both resorted to the drink of power, poison, and promise: coffee. Nothing big had happened last night, they were all simply too used to their freedom after the summer break. Harry’s dad had once joked about it being harder to get up from bed the older one becomes, and Harry was fearing that he was beginning to feel it. Nott snored into the table. 

“Hello, hello.” Luna Lovegood’s voice came floating towards them, as did she. She sat down next to Ron, who scooted over to make space for her. She was carrying a large bookbag with her, which she placed between her feet under the table. 

“Hi.” Someone responded but Harry didn’t catch who. Most people by the table just nodded at her. 

“Snnnrrm.” Nott said. 

“Today again, I practice for the exchange. I have even looked up a few words in French and Bulgarian respectively.” The girl seemed to be the only one awake by the table.

“What words did you learn?” Draco politely asked. 

“I don’t know, I forgot them already.” The girl smiled softly, blinking at the blonde wizard like an owl. 

Draco gave her a strained smile, which she seemed to accept as genuine. 

“What classes do you have today?” She looked up at Ron, who was busy covering his piece of bread with as much jam as he possibly could. 

“Oh, uh, I… I have…” He looked for his schedule but found that his hands were covered in jam, which made him unable to touch anything without jamifying it. 

“Arithmancy.” Hermione confirmed about herself. 

Blaise responded without lifting his head. “As do I.” 

“Keb of magickkall kreturss.” Nott spoke into the table. 

“Don’t you have Divination with me, Ron?” Neville asked, looking to his friend. 

“Oh no, I switched.” The red haired teenager looked up from his sandwich bottomed jam breakfast. “I couldn’t stand her crazy talk anymore, also, I’m tired of being proclaimed a walking dead. I either have Care of Magical Creatures or my first Muggle Studies class.” 

“I have Muggle Studies.” Harry smiled at Lovegood over his cup, carefully blowing on it before drinking. “My first class, I switched too, as I realised Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t for me. I’ll have more use for these studies in the future, I think.” 

“I, too, switched from Magical Creatures to Ancient Runes.” Draco reached for a croissant, which he gave to Harry, before reaching for one of his own. The two of them had grown to know each other’s taste palette very well after being practically inseparable during the summer break. “I will be having Ancient Runes.” 

“I think Ginny is taking Ancient Runes, you might be in the same class.” Ron pointed out as he dried his fingers off with a napkin. “Harry, may I have some more tea?” He nodded towards the teapot. The son of a werewolf got to his feet, pouring his friend a cup, much to Ron’s appreciation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Honey, sugar, or milk?” Harry placed the kettle down. 

“I take my tea black.” Ron joked, causing Hermione to snort into her tea with laughter. 

“It would certainly be preferable if I was in the same class as someone familiar to me.” Draco bit into his croissant and swallowed before speaking again. “It’s not a necessity, but I think better if I have someone to debate with.” 

Harry used his cup to hide his smile, knowing well that Draco was looking at him. 

“I have Muggle Studies, we should be in the same class.” Lovegood looked towards Harry as she broke a chocolate muffin apart, only to dip it in milk and then eat it. 

“Great, then we can help each other with homework.” Harry smiled at her.

He might just be lenient towards her because she was another child of a werewolf, but he truly didn’t mind her weirdness on a personal level. It appeared to him that the girl was lonely, and that her quirkiness was just her way of keeping herself entertained.

The Great Hall was beginning to empty as people finished their breakfasts and began walking off towards their classes. Harry and Draco both rose, as did Lovegood. Their classes were in roughly the same direction, while being the complete opposite of Care of Magical Creatures. Blaise left Nott to his fate as he stood and joined Hermione, the two of them leaving together. 

“Mr. Lupin! Mr. Lupin!” A voice called his name before the three of them could leave the Great Hall. 

Harry turned around to find Colin Creevy, the photography happy boy who had been petrified by Secrets the basilisk during his first year at Hogwarts. He had to retake the entire year, and was now two grades below Harry, rather than one. Harry couldn’t help but notice that the boy was holding his camera in his hands, or supposedly a new one, since his old one had been destroyed by her gaze. 

“Yes?” Harry looked the boy over, on guard should the boy raise his camera for a sneak photography. 

“Well, sir, I mean… I mean Mr. Lupin…” Creevy was twisting and turning his body, swaying about as he tried to contain his nervousness about speaking to the older student. “Well, I saw that your dad was in the newspaper this summer. A lot. I don’t know if you saw that bu-”

“Yes. Yes I did see that.” Harry concluded, feeling anxiety and discomfort creeping up on him as he watched the nervous boy in front of him. After all the uncomfortable questions last spring, this was not how he wanted to start his year, he felt like everyone in the Great Hall was looking at him and Creevy. Of course, they weren’t, but Harry still experienced their phantom eyes on him. 

“Ah, well, I thought you oughta hear from me, that not everyone is buying into that werewolf slander!” Creevy suddenly spoke with force, his little fists balled to his sides as he looked up at Harry in a burst of courage. “In fact, he was a great Professor! I’m putting together a petition for students to sign, so that after Mr. Moody resigns when this year is over, the school will see that we really want Professor Lupin back. It’s a Muggle thing, you have people sign their names on a list to prove a point, then you show it to people in charge, and they will have to make a change.”

Harry raised his hand over his mouth, then let out a weak noise, before moving forward, capturing the little Gryffindor in his arms and hugged him. The boy turned bright red, but froze in Harry’s arm like he had somehow managed to hit the stop button on the squirming boy. 

“Thank you.” Harry pulled back, uttering a breathless expression of gratitude. “I’ll make sure to sign it… Dad will be overjoyed… Haah, thank you.” He continued speaking breathlessly, his joy so overwhelming that it was hard to speak in the first place. 

“Y-y-you’re we-e-elcome…” Creevy blushed still, avoiding Harry’s eyes before laughing nervously. At least he didn’t seem upset or uncomfortable with the sudden hug, which Harry had to admit had been a little careless. He had simply been swept away by emotion and forgotten himself.

“I’ll gather as many names as I can… just you wait, Mr. Lupin! I’ll make you happy!” The boy exclaimed loudly before he more or less ran away, hurrying off to whatever class he was called to. 

Harry, Draco and Lovegood looked after him. 

“He’s most definitely crushing on you.” Draco chuckled. 

Harry’s cheeks heated. “He is not!” He objected. 

“I truly do think that he likes you.” Lovegood confirmed, nodding alongside the blonde wizard. 

“Just a hug, and you got him wrapped around your pinky.” Draco waved his hand, spinning his finger slowly and methodically, his charming smile beaming at Harry as he spoke, his back straight and his posture proud. 

Harry pretended to bite after the finger, to which the blonde wizard only laughed. They were interrupted by the sound of the clock striking, signalling to all of them that they were late for class. The three exchanged looks, before beginning to run towards their respective lessons. 

“Good morning, students, and welcome to your first year of Muggle Studies. We have an older student with us this year, welcome, welcome. I’m Professor Charity Burbage, I will be your guide through all things Muggle.” The teacher of the class was a small, blonde woman, whose hair had begun to turn grey and whose face was a canvas of wrinkles all of which moved upwards as she smiled, making for a very pleasant expression of kindness. 

Harry was slightly uncomfortable to have been called out as older than the rest, but the class was very small, so he could see why she gave him the extra attention. With this small a class, the students a year younger would likely easily identify him as older than them, thus it was better to dissolve the mysticism immediately. He smiled and nodded politely at her, which seemed to make her happy. 

“You may stop me at any time, should you have any questions. I shall begin with asking you all a very simple straightforward question: in what way are mages divided by our society?” Professor Burbage stopped by her blackboard, waiting for someone to raise their hand. 

A student in the front was given the word. “Pureblood, Fullblood, Half-Blood, and, uh, Muggle-born. Squibs too, I guess.” She might have been about to say something inappropriate, but managed to stop herself from using any crude terms. 

“Excellent.” The woman wrote on the board. “Now these all relate back to your blood status, as I am sure you all know. My next question is: what category system does the Muggles use to distinguish one another?” 

Nobody raised their hand as Professor Burbage waited patiently. 

“See,” she began, with a glint in her eye. “The Muggles have been known to categorise themselves after many different things, sex, heritage, skin color, and so on, yet they have repeatedly agreed that categorising people is generally a bad thing, and has seen negative effects on society through the ages. We shall discuss further why this is a negative thing later on. In this class, and at this level, we will distinguish between Muggles and mages, for the sake of allowing you to follow more clearly, but in the end, we are all human beings. Now let me tell you that it has stated that there are ten times more Muggles than mages in the world.” She paused for effect as the young mages looked between one another, surprised to have had their existence put into perspective against the Muggles. 

“If the global Muggle population was about 5 billion then it would mean that the mage population was 500 million, these numbers aren’t entirely proven, but they are a good estimation. Depending on interpretations, as sources are stating rather different numbers, the total world population of mages would be 0.01% to 0.29%. Needless to say, we mages are a minority, and still we act as if we are not. As if we are the elite about the masses, who need not concern ourselves with the everyday life of Muggles, as it does not affect us or our society.”

“I’m here to educate you about how and why Muggle society does affect mage society, and how we will only lose in locking ourselves away from Muggles, because we do not have the means by which to become self-sustaining, as that would be both economically and societally devastating to us. In this class, you will learn about Muggles, how to coexist with Muggles, and why it is essential that we continue our further symbiosis alongside them, and do not allow prejudice from a long passed age to negatively influence our lifestyles today. Everyone, open your textbooks to page five, and we will read together.”

As the students began to open their books, Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself. He already liked Professor Burbage. He found himself enjoying her one lesson more than he had ever enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures altogether. As he turned to page five, he imagined Draco in the same classroom, fighting his long inherited biases and beliefs for the sake of learning. He smiled yet again, as he opened Draco’s copy of Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Wilhelm Wigworthy, which he had been given as he stated to his friend that he was switching to Muggle Studies. On the first page, he saw that certain sentences had been underlined, alongside his friend’s handwriting, noting things of interest. One note was just an exclamation mark, which Harry found utterly adorable. 

Further, the lesson itself made Harry consider a fact which he had previously not thought of, namely that mage societies had to look very different from one another depending on what country the society was located in. Surely, Britain wasn’t some kind of mould which every other mage society strived to mimic or live up to. Instead, what Harry found normal, other mages from different countries must find curious or even strange. It wasn’t something he had thought of before, yet the realisation felt highly natural once he had thought of it. However, the lesson was continuing, so he did not have the time to muse about differences between mage societies, instead returning to the present, and Draco’s notes. 

The next lesson was Potions with Professor Snape. Harry and his group of friends divided themselves up around the tables for three, whereas Draco quickly captured Hermione for his and Harry’s group, leaving Neville and Ron to share their table with Nott, who seemed to have woken up enough that he wouldn’t unintentionally blow his cauldron up. Then again, Nott had made small explosions occur intentionally when he was wide awake too, which made it hard to really trust him when it came to, well, anything. 

Professor Snape strode into the classroom, as he always did the first day, his long black robes flowing after him as he headed for the center of the classroom, turning around towards his class once he reached his chalkboard. He glanced over the students in the room, his eyes settling on Harry. Unlike previous years, there was a calm to the man’s expression as their eyes met, and Harry was so very used to the man’s presence at that point that he didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated by him, unlike many of his fellow students who claimed the man’s gaze to be immensely frightening. Harry smiled up at his Professor, who didn’t per say smile back, but didn’t look particularly displeased with him either, just stoic as ever. 

“Your tie has come undone, Mr. Lupin.” The Potions Master stated in a casual manner, his words clearly meant to merely be helpful and not scolding, before he began writing on the board. His words left Harry to grapple with his tie until Draco took pity on him and reached out to assist him. When the Professor turned back, the tie was once more corrected. 

Professor Snape nodded before addressing the class, beginning by giving them all a summary of what they could expect from the coming year, and what would be expected of them in return. Most of the lesson consisted of going through the curriculum for the year, as well as the assignments, that is to say what recipes of potions, the students should focus on specifically as they were likely to be on the exam. Thanks to the structure of the lesson, Nott didn’t have the chance to blow anything up that day, either unintentionally or intentionally.

And so the lessons passed, leading the collective student body of Hogwarts towards the first weekend of the study year. They had only had about half a week’s study to start with, but the weekend was more than welcome in Harry’s opinion. 

Harry was woken up by Draco, who gently shook him from his blissful slumber in a way which made Harry not quite want to bite him for stealing his sleep from him. He sat up and fumbled for his glasses, which were given to him by his friend, who knew well what he was searching for. Once he had his glasses on, he could see that Crabbe’s bed was empty, as was Draco’s, but since the teenager was standing next to him, Harry didn’t need to worry about where he was. Blaise and Goyle were fast asleep in their respective beds. 

“Is there a problem?” Harry whispered. In reality, his inquiry sounded more like ‘hee heeere ah prublmm?’ but Draco had grown proficient in tired-Harry-speech, and figured out what he meant while the son of a werewolf sleepily blinked at him with his head to the side and his hair sprouting in different, gravity defying angles. 

“No, no problem,” Draco assured him. “I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me this morning, before it gets too crowded out there?”

“Out there?” Harry’s words became more coherent as he strongly considered sliding back down under the covers again. 

“Yeah, if you’d like to. Otherwise, I’ll go alone.” Draco shrugged, trying to appear as if he wasn’t invested in having Harry come with him on his morning walk. The two had been together for most of the summer, so to be alone or away from one another had begun to feel unnatural to both of them. 

“I’m coming…” Harry nodded, pulling the covers to the side as he mentally prepared himself to exit his blissful little cocoon of pleasant but not overbearing warmth. 

Draco smiled at him, that type of small, gentle smile which wasn’t so much joyful as it was pleased. It was a soft expression which made Harry feel a strange impulse to wrap his arms around the other teenager’s neck and yank him into the blankets and hug him. Possibly something more. Harry quickly patted his cheeks, trying to mask his emotions behind the overdramatic and exaggerated gesture which was meant to look like something he did to wake himself up. 

Harry hurriedly got dressed, then joined his friend as Draco exited their dormitory. The two had planned on immediately heading towards the exit of the common room, but they found themselves halted in their tracks as they found Crabbe, Parkinson and Nott in the room. Nott was curled together on one of the sofas, hugging himself. His face was pale, his eyes wet and his breathing slightly erratic. He seemed to be in great pain, weak whimpers leaving his lips from time to time. Parkinson and Crabbe were dressed in clothes which made it clear that they had planned on heading outside to work out, but had likely been stopped by finding Nott in the common room. Crabbe was sitting next to him, stroking his back, while Parkinson stood to the side, looking uncomfortable, confused, and a little guilty. 

Harry and Draco wasted no time in hurrying over to them, both teenagers feeling great worry over the way Nott appeared. 

“What has happened?” Draco spoke up first as they reached the sofa. They were all alone in the common room that morning, which made his voice appear loud and intrusive in the cold room despite the fact that he wasn’t shouting. 

Nott whimpered, looking up at Draco and Harry with a desperate and sad look on his face, before another wave of pain caused him to gasp and curl together further, hugging his stomach tighter. 

“Should I go get a teacher? Madam Pomfrey?” Draco added, looking over at the other two. His eyes seemed to blame them for not having gone to get one already. 

Meanwhile, Harry leaned down next to Nott to touch his forehead, concluding that the teenager had a fever. He wasn’t too surprised, but it added to his worry. 

To all their surprise, Nott was the one to respond in a whimper. “I’m fine… It’s normal…” 

The three young men stared at him, while Parkinson bit her lower lip and looked to the side, the guilt more evident on her face. 

Crabbe stroked over Nott’s back once more, carefully pressing against it with his large fingers. He found a spot which made Nott cry out in pain. After pulling back automatically, Crabbe returned his fingers to the spot, beginning to gently massage the sore spot. “Nott, let us at least take you to our dorm. You shouldn’t suffer like this out here, or someone really will call a teacher.” Crabbe’s voice was soft, gentle even. “You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to, but at least let us help you.” His dark voice sounded very soothing as he spoke, his fingers gently massaging Nott’s back still, which seemed to both increase and ease the boy’s pain. 

Nott hesitated, but another wave of pain caused him to yield. He nodded, then attempted to sit up. His pain didn’t allow him to, but luckily for him, Crabbe had already foreseen that the teenager wasn’t getting up on his own, thus bent down to help him by simply lifting him up and carrying the shivering Nottling towards their dormitory. Harry, Draco and Parkinson followed, the two young men exchanging worried looks, although something about Draco’s expression made it appear as if some manner of understanding had come to him, while Harry was utterly clueless. 

Crabbe wasn’t especially careful in kicking open the door to their dormitory, which woke both Goyle and Blaise, who both sat up in a confused flurry of limbs, blankets, and in Blaise’s case, rejuvenating face masks and other natural, non-damaging to the skin, skin products. Both young men looked more than a little confused as Crabbe placed Nott down upon his own bed, and began by handing him a pillow to hug, which Nott latched onto like a greedy racoon. 

“What is happening…?” Goyle mumbled as he half tumbled from his bed, walking towards the group who was gathering around Nott. 

Blaise joined them as well, but not before he had removed his face mask from his face. Some of the oils were still coating his skin, making him appear shiny and otherworldly. Harry was once more reminded of how beautiful he found Blaise, but when the teenager was standing next to Draco, despite all of Blaise’s pleasant features, Harry’s eyes were irreparably drawn towards the blonde wizard, shyly peeking at Draco from under his own eyelashes while his heart whispered colorful descriptions of the blonde teenager’s beauty, which were so utterly cheesy that Shakespeare himself would have found them too overbearing. Luckily for Harry, he was yanked away from his romantic thoughts by his worry for Nott, who had just been unable to suffocate a sob. 

“I’m not… hurting.” Nott half growled, half whimpered at them, his eyes wet with pain. “I’m not in pain.” He lied, whispering the words as a mantra to himself. 

Draco knelt next to the teenager in the bed, he had definitely figured out something which Harry hadn’t. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but not patronising. “Nott, if you are hurting, you shouldn’t just endure it. That doesn’t make you strong, it only hurts you. Nobody will think less of you for being in pain, as it is not your fault.” 

Harry realised what was going on then, as he heard Draco argue with the suffering teenager. Nott was a person who prided himself in always being happy and wild, who didn’t want to admit that he had problems, and who clung to his mental image of himself to the point where he rejected the idea that he might have needs outside of what he wanted himself to have. To be in pain, or rather, to be perceived as weak in any manner, was likely something Nott violently rejected. Harry had seen him try to speak about heavier subjects, such as Nott’s own father, only to have the teenager hastily break the conversation in favour of pretending that it never happened. As it was now, Nott was hurting, and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t hurting, and it was clearly breaking him apart both mentally and physically. Harry felt a pang of sadness in his chest, he couldn’t quite understand why at that moment, but the reason as to why he felt guilty was because he found the whole idea of Nott finding pain to be the better solution to asking for help ultimately destructive and endlessly sad. 

“I’m not hurting.” Nott sobbed, curling together further around the pillow as big tears began to roll down his cheeks. He shook his head and hid in the pillow. “I’m not hurting… I’m not… Oh Merlin, it hurts so much.” His muffled voice rose from the pillow as his shoulders shook with his sobs. 

A few of the teenagers exchanged looks with one another, Blaise looked uncomfortable, but also like he had had an understanding of some kind. Goyle looked like he wanted to hug Nott, but was trying hard to not overstep his boundaries. 

“Would you tell us what is wrong?” Draco gently coaxed Nott as he stroked over his head. “We can’t help you if you don’t let us.” With the way Draco said it, it sounded like they really could help Nott. This confirmed to Harry that Draco really did know something which he did not. Further, it appeared to him that Crabbe, Blaise and Parkinson knew what was wrong as well, leaving Harry and Goyle as the unknowing party. 

“And we do want to help you.” Harry hurriedly added, causing everyone gathered to nod with purpose as Nott glanced at them with sad, nervous eyes. 

Nott hesitated for a little longer, before glancing at Draco once more, confirming in his eyes that his pain really wasn’t a weakness which would make them all dislike him or think less of him. Draco smiled at him, a smile which made Harry unrighteously jealous because he desired that smile for himself. The impulse was so strong that it shocked Harry, and it made him feel so guilty that he didn’t find himself able to look at either Draco or Nott. 

Unbeknownst to the fourteen year old teenager, thoughts tended to be tricky things, and many people thought things which they didn’t mean, followed by shock, disgust, fear, or worry as a reaction to that thought. It was usually the reaction to the thought which was the person’s true feelings, while the stray thought itself was simply the product of processing a concept or an idea which didn’t natively or originally belong in the person's mind. Harry had yet to learn of this, thus, he felt guilty about his jealous stray thought, rather than realised that the reaction he was experiencing currently was a more honest reflection of his true feelings and personality.  

Nott took a shaky breath, then admitted to what was hurting him. “I’ve gotten my period…” The young man told them. “It hurts so bad. I always knew it wasn’t going to be, like, fine, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. My stomach is all messed up, my back is hurting like… so much, and my ankles are aching. I can’t even walk… I was just going to go hide away somewhere but I couldn’t make it out of the common room.” He looked back down again, shamefully curling together around the pillow which was wet with his tears. Not because he was ashamed of his period, but because he was ashamed over what it did to him physically and mentally. “And I’m just… sad. So sad. I’m never sad, and my period is like, ‘nope, you’re sad now. I don’t care what you want, time to bawl like a lonely puppy.’” 

Draco nodded with understanding. “Yes, my father gets really bad period cramps as well, so I recognised your symptoms.” He wasn’t stating it like he was a clever sleuth who had figured something out despite the odds, but a person who recognised a friend suffering from something he knew his parent to be suffering from as well. “I happen to know a few tricks to help ease the pain, my father taught them to me in preparation for my future partner, if you don’t want to take any potions for it.” 

Harry tried to not be distracted by the way that his friend said ‘future partner.’ It made him remember that no matter who Draco might come to love in the future, he was still expected to have a blood heir. Harry could already tell that he wasn’t comfortable with the path which those thoughts might bring him down so he hastily put a halt to them. He was fourteen, and experiencing hormonal changes in his body which all pulled him towards his best friend with an irresistible allure, but that didn’t mean that a simple crush would ensure a future as Draco’s partner. Besides, Harry had yet to admit that he was even possibly crushing on Draco in the first place. 

“No potions… M-maybe later, I don’t know if all of them are going to be this bad and I don’t want to overreact.” Nott mumbled, his face still pale and his breathing erratic. 

“First of all,” Draco was in his element now. He might have become somewhat shy when it came to expressing an opinion without having all the facts, however, that did not mean that he had stopped expressing his opinions, or stopped sharing information which he knew to be true with the people around him. Yet, he was far from the eleven year old child who had blurted out his opinions as facts without thinking about it, and a far nicer person to be around because of it. In fact, the person Draco had once been was so very different from the person he currently was that they weren’t even comparable. “Warmth helps, you have a very good idea with the pillow, but body heat is another great help, according to my father.” 

Goyle stepped forward, with more purpose than he had ever had in his life, spreading his arms as he did. “My time has come.” He announced as he looked down at Nott. “I’m warm and I’m soft, if you are alright with it, I’ll keep you warm in turn.”

“Please.” Nott weakly croaked, looking up at the taller teenager with thankful eyes. 

Goyle took up position in Crabbe’s bed, which the latter didn’t show any sign of minding, and captured Nott in his arms, wrapping his arms around the smaller teenager’s stomach. Nott whimpered once more, his expression turning blissful as he sank into Goyle’s arms, his aching back was soothed by the warmth of another body, and the heavy arms and hot hands pressed down upon his hurting stomach. It was clear that he was already feeling a little better, even if it didn’t save him from his pain completely. 

“Further, you should be drinking and eating and not just stop because of the pain. You are likely to become dehydrated while this is happening to your body, so you should seek to drink a lot of water, or eat food with high water measures, like watermelon or cucumber or things like that. As you are losing blood, leafy green vegetables such as kale and spinach can boost your iron levels, spinach is also rich in magnesium. Added to that, A warm mug of ginger tea can improve certain symptoms of period pain. Ginger has anti-inflammatory effects, which can soothe achy muscles, ginger may also reduce nausea, although one should be careful not to eat too much of it or the ginger might cause some side effects like heartburn and stomach aches. My father has found that hot raspberry tea helps him, but I don’t know if that is helpful for everyone.” Draco rambled, although everyone clung to his words as he seemed knowledgeable on the subject. 

“Strawberries are good to eat as well, as they help the iron intake after the loss of blood. Other than that, there is the classical dark chocolate as it is rich in iron and magnesium, which will help ease many period cramps symptoms.” Draco finished, concluding his story with a nod as he turned towards his friends. 

“Crabbe and Parkinson, would you head upstairs and grab some fruit from the breakfast table, as well as a cup of hot raspberry tea for Nott?” The two nodded as Draco asked them to help their fellow classmate. “Harry, do you have any dark chocolate? The darker the better, I’d say.” 

Harry nodded in turn. “Of course. Dad and I abhor milk chocolate in the first place.” He hurried over to his bag to search for the promised chocolate. 

Draco turned to Blaise. “I think I remember you having a heat-up pillow? Do you mind sharing it with Nott for the moment?” 

“Of course not.” Blaise assured him as he turned towards his own part of the room to go find the pillow. It was one of those items which was meant for easing back or neck pain, it was heated up by a simple, magical command. Blaise often heated it up and placed it around his shoulders after showering, or applied it after a particularly long day. However, the warm pillow would likely be just as useful to Nott as he suffered from his period cramps. 

Needless to say, the entire dormitory ended up fussing over their friend, and worked together to ensure his well being. Nott found it embarrassing, and probably a little shameful, but he was so badly off from the pain that he surrendered to it and allowed himself to indulge in their help. Harry got him chocolate, Blaise got him the warm pillow, and Crabbe and Parkinson returned with a plate full of fresh fruit and a steaming cup of hot tea. They briefly mentioned that nobody had minded them taking the items out of the Great Hall as they pulled Crabbe’s nightstand closer to their position in the bed so that Nott could eat. On the plate was a muffin for Goyle, which Crabbe gave him alongside the statement that he did not want to get crumbs in his bed. Goyle understood perfectly. Their collective care made Nott cry again, but they all secretly agreed that it was probably good for him to not hold his feelings back. They weren’t likely to always do this for Nott, as that frankly wouldn’t really work with their own lives and schedules, but that day, there was nothing stopping them from looking after their friend’s well being. 

“Nott?” Draco spoke his name as the teenager drank his raspberry tea, which, judging by the way his expression eased into less pained and less pale, was helping. 

Nott looked up at him, leaning his head to the side, wordlessly asking what the blonde wizard wanted. 

“You should speak with someone in your dormitory so that they can help you if you find yourself in a situation where you can’t move or do things because of your period cramps. I think I can state for a fact that none of us would mind helping you, but you shouldn’t have to have to make it all the way here just to get help.” Draco finished. 

Nott licked his lips. “Yeah… I have a friend I can ask. I just didn’t want to bother him, or anyone with this… But I guess he wouldn’t mind helping me.” The suffering boy concluded. 

“One more thing?” Draco added, causing Nott to look at him again with a confused frown. “From what I understand, it is normal that period cramps cause a person pain, and that can be quite some pain for some people, but it’s not normal if it continues for days and is always unbearably painful. If it so happens that your period continues to be insufferable like this without easing up at all, you have to speak to Madam Pomfrey because something might be wrong. I’m not saying that you must get potion help against your pain, but if something is wrong, you shouldn’t just ignore it. There is help to receive, and it does not make you weak or abnormal if you accept it.” 

Nott nodded. “Fine… fine. Okay. If it so happens, I will go talk with her, but as I said, I don’t wanna overreact. This is my first period after all, and it might not be like this always. I hope.” He looked wistful as he spoke the last words, and slightly worried. 

“Nott?” Parkinson finally spoke up for the first time that day. She looked nervous and guilty still, her eyes darting around the room, not focusing on Nott but on everything and anything she got her eyes on which wasn’t part of her classmate’s body. “I’m… sorry. I always thought that all other girls in my dormitory were just playing their pain up to get affection and attention and… stuff like that.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “I guess I needed a boy to help me see that they might… actually be in that much pain. My period isn’t that bad, sure, it hurts, but not that much. Since, you know, boys don’t tend to play up their pain to get chocolate for free.” She summarised as her face began to heat. 

Behind her, Crabbe looked proud over his girlfriend. It stood to reason that he had had a hand in making her speak up about her problems, although she most assuredly shouldn’t be apologising to Nott, but to the people she might have hurt, if any, with her misguided opinion. Her idea that it was impossible for boys to play things up for attention was misguided as well, as things like that really wasn’t so much because of a person’s gender, but because of the person in question. However, she was already pushing the limits of her own personality, and it wasn’t fair of Harry to push her harder when she was already straining. Maybe he could help her see that the idea was misguided in the future, but today, right now, was not the time to do so. Maybe she’d even figure it out on her own, maybe he’d never need to assist her. However, all of that was for the future, and not the present. 

Nott blinked at his classmate, looking every bit like a confused racoon as she apologised to him. “You don’t have to be sorry, but I guess I’m glad I could help you.” He returned her words with some manner of confused praise. 

Draco walked up to Harry, who was struck with the realisation of how dependable his best friend was. Not only had he helped Nott when he needed it, he had been able to make the stubborn teenager admit to being hurt, and then assisted him in getting better, both inside his head, as well as helping his body.

Harry didn’t know the first thing about periods or period cramps, because he lived in a household which consisted of him and his dad, and neither of them had been born with a body which was biologically cursed to live with the pain and blood which was a natural, yet painful and loathed part of many other people’s lives. It was a privilege of his, to never know the pain which Nott and people with similar body structures had to face within the course of their lives. While the whole concept seemed rather frightening, potentially disgusting, and looked very painful, and the concept itself weirded Harry out a little bit, he was rather sure that he shouldn't let himself think like that. Surely, it could be a disgusting experience, and the side effects might make a person feel disgusting for the moment, but it did not mean that they were disgusting for something they couldn’t help and which was natural to their bodies. If something was happening to half the population of people out there, it had to be considered normal, no matter if he himself experienced it or not. He only held sympathy for the people like Nott who had to go through worse pain than some others, and chose not to spend any more time thinking about it in-depth.

Harry was very happy that Draco had known enough to be able to help their struggling friend, because he knew that there was nothing he himself knew which could have helped Nott. He made a promise to himself that he would never object to or mind someone needing chocolate from him for the sake of easing their pain, no matter how little he might have left. Not because he needed to, or was obliged to, but because it was what he would have wanted in the same situation. 

Draco touched him, the cold, slender fingers gently brushing against the back of Harry’s hand to capture his attention. The green eyed teenager jumped slightly, as he pulled his hand to himself, not because he wanted to get away from Draco, but because he wanted to do the opposite a little too much. So much that it scared him slightly. 

If Draco had been displeased or satisfied or anything in between, it didn’t show on his face. He spoke as if nothing had changed, addressing Harry with the same usual familiarity and pleasant voice as he always did. “How about taking that walk now?” 

“Oh, yeah, walk!” Harry’s own voice was too loud in his ears. Not in the same way as when he was overwhelmed by sound and noises, but in a way which made it clear to himself that he had spoken louder than necessary. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Crabbe and Parkinson glanced at him before they excused themselves to finally go have their postponed morning workout. Harry and Draco left soon after them, leaving Nott, Goyle and Blaise alone in the dormitory. As they left, Blaise asked what Goyle would like to eat, offering to make sure that the three of them got to eat breakfast. 

The morning air was not quite the crisp, wet touch which Harry had expected when he exited Hogwarts. Instead, the morning was warm and welcoming without being suffocatingly warm. Harry and Draco walked together along the shoreline of the lake, speaking calmly to one another while a few students jogged passed them. Harry found himself searching their faces for Marcus Flint or Oliver Wood, only to then recall that the two of them had already finished school. 

Harry and Draco walked for health reasons, as they had many times during the summer. Still, Harry got the impression that the blonde wizard wanted to jog or work out more than he wanted to simply walk, despite the fact that he had invited Harry to come with him in the first place. He wondered if there was anything Draco wanted to speak to him about, but he didn’t mention anything. Instead, they simply trudged on as the warm summer morning heating their cheeks, and the lake next to them appearing so very still that even Harry had to admit that it was beautiful and serene. Despite Nott’s earlier trouble, their day turned out to be a calm one, one which Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville and Ron spent most of outside in the sun.

Chapter Text

The weekend passed rather calmly, and luckily, it seemed that Nott’s pain wasn’t constant, but at its worst a few hours back and forth over the weekend. Days passed, and the time had come for their first lesson with the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody.

The fourth year Slytherin students and the Gryffindor students were having his classes together, and there was an air of nervousness and sadness in the classroom. It appeared to the son of a werewolf that some people were already missing Professor Lupin, and found themselves slightly disappointed now that reality had caught up with fact and they knew that the werewolf would not be there with, or for, them that year. Other than those hints of sadness, there was the general nervousness of having a new teacher and not knowing what to expect from a man with a nickname which included the colorful description of ‘mad.’ 

They heard him before they saw him. There was a prominent and ominous sound from somewhere, which seemed to rattle the beams above the students’ heads. Then it repeated, over and over, until they were able to identify the sound of Moody’s wooden leg and his staff. The man appeared by the blackboard, nobody was quite sure when he arrived there, or if he had walked past them at all, yet he was suddenly there, present, and terrifying to look upon. Not because of his appearance, but because he regarded the students in front of him with deep and seething distrust, as if they were the vilest of scum to have been locked away in Azkaban for their crimes against the British mage society. Harry remembered that he overheard the Weasley twins celebrate Moody as the coolest teacher who they had ever had, and he immediately felt less safe. Judging by the air in the room, he wasn’t alone in feeling frightened. 

“Fourth years, eh?” Moody spoke, his voice as crude as his appearance, yet his words clear and strong, echoing in the classroom which should have belonged to Harry’s dad had the world not rebelled against the idea. “Slytherins and Gryffindors, here together, huh. Bet the lot of you have thought lots of unpleasant things about one another.” 

The class shifted and glanced across their imagined House borders, with some people accidentally glancing at another specific person. Draco and Ron locked eyes before quickly looking away, neither of them comfortable to have glanced at the other. There was a murmur in the classroom, while young, scared and inexperienced students were forced to feel guilt over a behavior which had been forced into them by society without them noticing. Harry did not think that he was going to enjoy the teacher-student experience with Moody as their Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. 

Harry and Draco had elected to sit with Goyle that day, as Crabbe and Parkinson were sitting with one of her female friends. It hadn’t been a particularly big decision, it simply came naturally as they didn’t know what to expect of the new teacher and thus adapted to the traditional behaviours of the two Houses staying on one side of the classroom each. When Alastor Moody spoke as if he knew that every single one of them hated one another for being in different Houses, Harry felt a strange sense of disgust, making him regret him and Draco not having chosen the alleged Gryffindor side that very lesson, if only to prove the man wrong. Maybe the man wasn’t entirely wrong, but they weren’t eleven anymore, and a lot of them knew better, had learnt better. For Moody to discredit that altogether to accuse the lot of them just made it feel like he wanted them to be guilty for things they weren’t actually guilty of. Making every single student guilty for something not all of them participated in surely couldn’t be a good idea, his dad would never do such a thing. 

After making all his students turn uncomfortably in their seats for about a minute, Moody spoke up once more: “such thoughts aren’t going to get you to Azkaban, so you might as well calm down again. Can anyone tell the class any of the three curses, or one of the forbidden charm or spell respectively, that gets you a one way ticket to Azkaban, or earn you a less than tender kiss from a Dementor’s plucky lips? One answer per person, one curse per mouth.” His mad-eye spun in his head, burying into them like a searchlight seeking a guilty runaway. 

Hermione raised her hand, bravely taking the first steps towards communication, much to everyone else’s relief. She was given the word as Moody pointed at her with his staff, one eye on her while the other one burned into Seamus Finnigan. “There is the, well, the… Killing curse.” She stated. 

“Correct.” Behind him, a piece of chalk sprung to life, and began writing on the black board. It wrote the title of the curse as well as the incantation for it. 

A murmur passed through among the students as they realised that they had just technically been taught Dark Arts by their Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody ignored them. “Another!” He roared before pointing at a female Gryffindor student who jumped with fear. 

“Ah, uh, I-Imperius Clause, I mean Curse!” She spoke, her entire expression one akin to a hunted animal. 

“...” Moody’s one brown eye glazed over for a good five seconds, as he became lost in what appeared to be deep thoughts. Behind him, the piece of chalk wrote on the board, spelling out the name of the curse and the word with which to cast it. Suddenly, he snapped back again, nodding his large head at the teenager’s answer. “Next.” His voice was not quite as strong as he turned towards his students again, pointing at one of them to demand an answer from him. 

He picked Neville to answer next, but what followed, nobody could really quite explain afterwards. 

Moody’s big staff pointed at Neville, who flinched, then spoke in a very small voice. “The… Cruciatus Curse… The torture curse…” He whispered, yet everyone in the room heard his words as clearly as if they had been whispered into their ear. 

Both of Moody’s eyes snapped to Neville, staring at him as the man’s face twisted into a look of surprise and recognition. The students may have their first lesson with the man, yet they could all tell that something was wrong if both of Moody’s eyes focused on one thing. The man slowly opened his mouth, his staff frozen in the air as the piece of chalk wrote on the board behind him, copying Neville’s words onto the blackboard. “You are… the Longbottoms’ son?” Moody asked in a gruff yet surprisingly emotional voice. Harry thought he saw his lower lip tremble slightly. 

Neville didn’t have the strength to do more than nod. 

Moody nodded in return, trying to catch himself. “I… I knew your parents. Good folks. Powerful, stubborn… proud.” His mad eye rolled backwards in his head, as if it wanted to look inside his own brain, or seek to hide from the world. Both seemed equally impossible, and equally strange. Moody remained silent for another two seconds, then pointed at Blaise with his staff. “You. Final forbidden curse?” 

Blaise was the only one to not jump, as it was beneath him in dignity. “The Memory Charm, also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, and the False Memory Spell, which are usually counted together.” 

Moody seemed a little upset that he listed both the charm and the spell, but he let it slide while Blaise’s answer was written on the blackboard. Moody began walking down the line between the benches, his heavy leg thudding against the ground alongside his staff as he spoke. “Now some of you will look at that board, and you will see all the forbidden curses, spell and charm which we as a society have deemed punishable by the gravest of punishment. That is death which I am speaking of. Either way, some of you will look at that, and you will have the realisation that I’ve just taught you Dark Arts.” 

His words caused a great number of students to start speaking over one another. 

Moody slammed his staff into the floor, earning silence as easily as that. “Some of you will feel tempted to use them, even. Some of you might, and earn yourself a one way ticket to what Muggles would call ‘Hell.’” He began circling the classroom as he lectured, the piece of chalk writing only the necessary or noteworthy part of his speech onto the board.

“Now here is where it gets very interesting for the lot of you. You can’t just say the curse and think that you can kill someone, or cast any of the memory spells and think that all you need is a stupid little word. No, for all of these curses written on that board, you cannot cast them without meaning it. Truly meaning it. Desire the outcome with all of your heart, mind and whatever is between those two. Why, you could all turn your silly little wands towards me and do your worst, and I would not even be knocked down, and my memory would be as fine as always. Long story short: you all couldn’t possibly cast the curses successfully, and the charm and the spell are both far beyond your level. However, should you think that is an invitation or a challenge, think again, if any of those syllables leaves your lips in the full fledged form of the words, you will nonetheless be sent to Azkaban.” 

Moody stopped at the front of his class once more, and spun towards them with his brown eye blazing at them, the other lost inside the cage of his skull. “Let’s begin with the big one, the Killing Curse. Straight forward deal, but nonetheless nasty. Death in two words. Nobody has ever survived it, except for one person, and he is sitting in this room.” Moody didn’t so much focus on Harry as much as he simply glanced at him before continuing on, not even bothering to point him out as an example. “I can guarantee you that every parent or adult in your lives has lost at least five people, friends, or family members to this curse. There is not a lot more to say about that one, thus, we move on. There is also the Cruciatus curse, or the Torture curse.” He skipped the Imperius curse for now, instead discussing the curse which had stolen Neville’s parents from him when he was but a baby.  

“As you can hear by the name,” Moody continued to walk around the room as he spoke, restlessly wandering between their benches and around them, reminding his students of a locked up animal with the way he was pacing. “The Torture Curse hurts people. Real bad. Makes you feel like your every bone, muscle, nerve and organ are on fire. It’s a very hard curse to cast, with even skilled mages using it to the effect of a burst of pain in their victim and nothing more. No, this nasty piece of work requires an even nastier mind to cast it. Perhaps even nastier than the Killing Curse.”

He halted by the window, and stared out over the Hogwarts grounds, then looked past them and towards the Forbidden Forest, his expression hidden from his students. Whatever it was he was looking at, it might not be in the present, or visible to anyone else. Still, nobody dared moving. 

Neville looked sick. He was paler than Harry had ever seen him before, even more than when he had faced his worst fears during the boggart class last year. His arms had moved to his stomach, and he hugged himself, staring forward with a distant look. Whatever it was he saw in his inner eye, it was not something which did him any good. Harry wished that he could have reached out and helped him, but he was too far away, on the other side of the classroom, to be able to. Luckily, Hermione noticed as well, and she sneaked her hand to the teenager’s hand, squeezing it lightly. 

“Last of the curses,” Moody swung back at them with such speed that half the students nearly fell out of their seats. “Is the Imperius Curse. It penetrates the mind, makes you nothing but an obedient slave to the one who controls you. You take your free will for granted, yet the Imperius Curse will make you want to surrender control to the caster. This spell is particularly useful against people who don't want to make their own decisions, or those who have grown tired of life and want to go to sleep for a while. Depending on who you are, and in what time of life you are in, you might even welcome the embrace of this curse and the opportunity to let go of your mind. You kids should be comparatively resilient to it, but that doesn’t mean that you will be when you grow old and life has had a go at you.” 

Moody’s cruel eyes turned towards Draco, both of them rested on him before the blue eye rolled away once more. “Some people have been made to do horrible things under this curse, killing and maiming and serving the Dark Lord. While others have gotten away from such accusations by claiming that they only served the Dark Lord because they were under the Imperius Curse. Why, you Malfoys should know all about that. As would the rest of you Slytherins whose parents aren’t rotting in Azkaban. At least Nott is locked up where he belongs, while your father nimbly slunk away because of money.” The teacher towered over Harry, Draco and Goyle’s table, staring down at Draco with his dark eye while the blue one honed in on every Slytherin student who had ever had Death Eater accusations aimed at them or their family. Moody seemed to hate them all, but his hatred for Draco and his family seemed stronger than his hatred for the rest of the families. 

Moody’s crude comments about Death Eaters, and Death Eater children, hurt more than one student. He only targeted Slytherin students, making accusations towards them without even considering that there were students whose parents had supported the Dark Lord in other Houses as well. As his wrath was mostly aimed towards Draco, the young man took the brunt of his distaste. Many other students shrunk back from the blue eye.

Nott looked like he wanted to throw up, and Harry knew how much he hated his dad. Moody’s comment must have hurt him even more since Nott’s father was no longer locked away, but had returned to poison his son’s life. Nott had taken a stand against his father, and all his friends knew that, yet here was a teacher, locking the child to crimes which had been his father's. Locking children to crimes and mistakes which were not theirs. 

To someone who didn’t know him, Draco might have appeared collected and proud. His posture was tense, his head held high and his eyes meeting Moody’s without any sign of fear. However, Harry knew his best friend far better than to be fooled by his collected appearance.

He knew that Draco had been trained to adapt the behaviour he was now displaying when he found himself in a tense situation which he didn’t know how to deal with. Keep proud, look collected, never show that they have touched something fragile within you, things such as those teachings had been part of Draco’s life as he grew up, and habits die hard. Draco couldn’t allow his fellow students, or Moody, to know how much the accusations hurt him. Even further, Draco likely believed the accusations to be true as well, and it wounded his pride as a person coming into his own that he was bound by the past mistake of his family. He was celebrated yet condemned by the Malfoy family name, and all that it meant, despite never having a say in what family he was born into. On his lap, Draco’s hands were shaking slightly, tremblingly grabbing onto his trousers as he enforced discipline on himself. 

Moody finally remembered that he had a job to do, and so he turned away from Draco, focusing on the rest of the class, to the collected immense relief of the students. 

“Ultimately, there is the Memory charm and spell,” the teacher who was not worthy of the title Professor spoke again, “these two are nasty pieces of work in their own right, and a fundamental invasion of both privacy and identity. However, they are not illegal in the same way as the Unforgivable Curses. Certain Ministry workers, and fast responders, have the authority to use the magic on Muggles, for the sake of protecting the dignity and safety of our dear, darling mage society.” When Moody called something ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ it sounded like he was cursing it, the words twisting from something positive, into a mockery of the fundamental meaning of the word.

“We don’t look so cruelly on using it on Muggles, but when it is used on our own people, we get mad. Your former teacher, that fraud Lockhart, earned himself a one way ticket to Azkaban for the usage of the charm. Currently, there is no known way to restore someone who had been obliviated, or return the memories which were taken. The False Memory Spell has been recorded to be reversible in some few cases, but it is the exception, not the rule.” He stopped, then added, as if he had forgotten it. “The memory magic is easier to cast than the curses, but as I said, they will still earn you a life in a cage. Until the Dementors take that from you as well.” 

“Now, I see in all of your little faces that you are asking yourself ‘Why is he doing this? Teaching us Dark Arts and telling us that we shouldn’t use it?’ Go ahead, all of you who want to experiment with it. As I’ve stated multiple times, it will get you nowhere but to Azkaban. Then again, might be better to have you sent there as kids, than let you actually cast the magic as adults…” The way he stared at them made it seem like he wanted them to try and perform any of the listed curses, spell, or charm. It made it seem like he was looking for a reason, any reason, to lock them away. It didn’t matter that they were minors, and it didn’t matter that they had hitherto done nothing to deserve his paranoia and suspicion, Moody still viewed them with the eyes of somebody who was convinced of their collective guilt. 

“Now that that has been gone over,” the old Auror continued, “here is the real reason why I’ve taught you the incantations. It doesn’t matter that the Ministry and the School Board and whatnot have told me not to, as the real world out there isn’t as cuddly as they want you to think. If you hear any of these syllables, if you hear the incantation, or get a whiff of suspicion that someone is just about to cast any of those curses, I want you to get it into your heads to duck. Throw yourselves to the side, run. Anything to get away from the magic and the person casting it. If you hear someone cast a Forbidden Curse in your direction, I want to bang it into your heads to flee or move, not wait to see what will happen. Confusion, any confusion at all, might and will cost you lives or limbs out there. To not allow you the knowledge of the incantations will be contributing to your deaths should a war come, and my teachings are meant to help you survive at all costs.”

Judging by the way Moody looked, every student believed him when he cited to believe in survival, no matter what means had to be taken to assure it. As much as Harry didn’t want to agree with the man, the reasoning made sense, at the very least.

Whatever the students had expected next, it was not to be called forth from their seats to line up in the middle of the room.

Nobody wanted to stand in front, yet one Gryffindor student or another was pushed before the others, collectively chosen by the students as the first sacrifice. Harry couldn’t tell who had been chosen, but he thought it was a male specimen. Everyone had the same worried, aching feeling in their chests and throats, fearing whatever it was that Moody was about to subject them to, for they held no illusions about the man’s insanity at that point. They collectively believed that the man was going to do something to them which was sure to blossom into a teenage trauma when they grew older. If Harry didn’t know better, he would truly have suspected that Moody wanted to sow distrust and paranoia among the students, but as he was a teacher, the notion itself appeared paranoid to Harry.

Moody explained that he was about to cast a charm on them, one which relaxed the mind and body to a state of bliss and serenity. The charm, he stated, was meant to be used as a means of relaxation for stressed mages and while it was not illegal to cast it, casting it was frowned upon. He stated that it was in some ways similar to the mindset which the Imperius Curse caused, it was the closest they could get to the effect of the Imperius Curse without actually experiencing it for themselves.

Moody continued to state that the students were to subject themselves to the magic so that he could judge if they had the willpower to break it on their own, or if they got lost in it. It was possible to will oneself out of the bounds of both this charm, and the Imperius Curse, although it was far harder to break the curse than the charm. Moody reasoned that anyone who could break the charm had good potential to break free from the curse, should it be cast upon then, and anyone who didn’t better become very good at ducking as soon as possible. With the explanation done with, he pointed his staff as the trembling Gryffindor boy, and told him to step forward. 

Unlike with Remus’ lessons, this forced participation was uncomfortable and stressful for everyone. Because of Moody’s paranoid and erratic behavior, many students’ minds welcomed the bliss of not having to think, or be, for a few moments, if only just to escape from their crazed teacher. It was far from the optimal space to be able to break through a spell with sheer mind power, but then again, should the Imperius Curse be cast upon any of them, it would not likely be in a context which was ideal for them. In a twisted kind of way, the logic did work out, even if nobody was happy about it. 

The divide between the people who broke free from their trance and those who did not was about half-half, which seemed to satisfy Moody.

In the end, Neville, Draco, Hermione and Blaise broke out of their trance without too much trouble, with Neville breaking it so fast that it was as if it hadn’t been cast upon him at all. Moody gave him twenty points to his House right there and then, although the man was odd about it, and seemed to straight up struggle with even looking upon the teenager.

Harry theorised that Neville’s pain over the loss of his family, particularly the loss of their minds, to one of the Forbidden Curses had made him scarred to the idea of forced relaxation and general mind altering magic.

A memory came to Harry as he thought about the possibility of Neville having a phobia in relation to that type of magic, and how it explained the quickness, and violence, with which he had acted when Lockhart attempted to obliviate them in the tunnels outside of Secret’s Chamber. Harry had always thought of it as a panicked impulse, but that panic might have been fuelled by more than he had realised back then. 

Further, Ron, Nott, Crabbe, Parkinson and Goyle struggled to break out of the trance, with only Parkinson managing to break it after almost two minutes of struggling. Once she finally managed, she looked about to pass out from the effort, and was quickly swept to the side and given water by her boyfriend. Nobody minded them, as she was by far not the only one to have been drained by the effort. 

Harry had his suspicions as to why the people around him could or could not break free from the trance. In Neville’s case, it was trauma, in Draco’s it was pride. Blaise couldn’t allow anyone else to influence him, and Hermione was too active in her own mind to accept that it was empty. Ron and Nott both likely needed the break which came with turning those thoughts and complexes off, while Crabbe wasn’t able to reject a suggested path.

Goyle had been taught that he wasn’t good at thinking, and despite what his friends told him, he struggled with being more than just a side character in someone else’s story. In some ways, Goyle might even enjoy the calmness of not being defined to anyone as a forceful presence, but peaceful with the idea of a muted existence where things weren’t quite expected of him. The idea of finding peace in non-existence was frightening to Harry, but he recognised that he didn’t know what Goyle really thought of himself, and the paranoia of applying all the things he had just assumed onto the teenage boy based on him being unable to break a spell was rather insulting of Harry, which lead to him pushing those thoughts away. Unlike the others, Harry really didn't have any concrete evidence regarding Goyle, thus he stopped.

It was interesting to theorise about why Parkinson had been able to break the spell on her. Harry chose to believe that it meant that she could change, and that, however comfortable the idea of not thinking was to her, she ultimately rejected the comfort in favor of the real world. Just as she had been able to accept that her ideas about other girls and young women had been false when faced with a truth which contradicted her reality, she had been able to reject the illusion of peace, and return to a world which might not allow her much of it. He wouldn't take those thoughts for granted either, as making assumptions without facts, especially about people, was usually never a good idea.

As Harry thought and theorised, he had ended up at the front of the line, where Moody was waiting with his wand raised.

Harry glanced up at the scarred, paranoid, older man, who had given his mind and body to the protection of the Mage community, Whose reward had been the title of ‘mad’ attributed to a deformity likely caused by bringing peace to a community which might never know or appreciate what Moody had sacrificed for them.

It was definitely something humbling about being in the presence of someone like Alastor Moody, and had he been a less frightening, unfair and cruel man, Harry believed that it would have been easy for him to feel awed in front of the Auror. Yet the unpleasant and current memories of the way the man treated Harry’s friends and his students was so utterly fresh in his mind that the awe was replaced with a seething distaste for the man which made saliva feel bitter on his tongue. 

The former Auror licked his lips in a quick movement, which reminded Harry slightly of a snake, but which appeared to be a nervous tick. “My class list and the Professors tell me your name is Lupin, not Potter.”

Harry assumed that the statement was meant to be a question, and with a rising panic and discomfort threatening to steal his words and his breath away from him, he responded. “Yes, sir.”

Moody’s nose scrunched. “I take it the Ministry won’t allow you to change your name officially based on some bias or crude old rule.” The man snorted, appearing to be angry at the Ministry for more reasons than them simply rejecting Harry’s wish to change his name. 

Harry blinked at the man, his mouth falling open slightly before he slowly nodded.

Nobody, neither Professor nor student had ever complained about the Ministry in that manner. It was almost as if Moody himself understood the frustration in having one’s identity rejected by an uncaring, faceless authority, which truthfully couldn’t care less about the mental health of the applicant, or care to provide even a single reason for the rejection. “Y-yes sir.” Harry stuttered out, nodding as he tried to focus on the man’s brown eye rather than the spinning blue one. 

Moody nodded, he seemed angry still, but not at Harry. “Anyone gives you attitude about your name because it's not the same as the one printed in some rotting old archive, you tell them that a name is an exchange and offer of trust, and the rejection or fumbling of a name is the rejection of that offer. It deems the person unworthy of any of your trust or your time.” He nodded and raised his wand. “Now then, I have a lesson to continue.” 

While Harry truly appreciated Moody’s very unexpected but welcome support for his name, Harry wasn’t sure if he believed that a singular fumbling of one’s name was reason to reject that person immediately.

He understood where Moody was coming from, and he didn’t think that anyone was wrong to remove themselves from people, be it friends of family members or coworkers, who couldn’t manage the basic effort of making sure they addressed the person in the way they wanted and preferred. However, had he rejected Draco right away for failing to display courtesy to a stranger whose name he didn’t yet understand the importance of, he would have lost his current best friend and the object of his affection.

In Harry’s mind, any person who realised their mistake, and made a conscious effort to never repeat the mistake again made him willing to give them a chance, but that was something which he himself had decided on his own, and he would never argue that it was the ultimate choice which everyone else should also adhere to. People had the right to reject or not reject anyone on their own terms, and to decide what was best for someone else, or to simply choose a universal best course of action, were ultimately ignorant. Moody’s words were true, but they were not the only truth. 

As Moody had just started quite the activity in Harry’s brain, only to turn all that activity off, it was very easy for him to reject the enforced calm. He wasn’t the quickest, it took him maybe half a minute before he was able to break through the veil of muddled thoughts and force his relaxed muscles to tense up once more, as he returned to have control over that which made him.

Harry blinked up at Moody, finding that he was relieved that the effect hadn’t been harder to resist. Perhaps, if Moody had simply let him be and not talked to him, it would have been harder for Harry to break the spell, as his thoughts would have been more shattered and less focused. It was hard to know for certain, but Harry found that he was certain of the fact that he was glad that it was over, and that he could step aside to allow another student to face down Moody and his direct teaching methods. 

Ultimately, Moody’s words to Harry hadn’t made the lesson any more pleasant. The fact that he had said one good thing, and been approving of Harry’s name, didn’t mean that he hadn’t hurt a lot of the students in the span of a single hour, spreading discord and distrust by means of accusations, and made them feel unsafe in his presence.

The students were still stressed as they exited the classroom, and some of them appeared outright scared by Moody and his forcefulness. Some wore expressions which told Harry that they never wanted to return to the classroom with Moody ever again.

Nott in particular appeared stressed out of his mind, and he hurried from the lesson to more or less dash towards the bathrooms. Blaise sped up his steps to follow, it made Harry feel happy to know that, for at least this once, Blaise wasn’t passively distancing himself, but appeared to be actively trying to assist a friend in need.

Next to Harry, Draco was nervously picking at his nails, absently retorting inwards, while his fingers suffered the result of his discomfort. Ron was picking at his old scars, the two teenagers’ movements mimicking the others’ without either of them noticing it. Neville looked like he wanted to throw up, one of his hands placed over his lips while his eyes remained unfocused.

Harry got the distinct feeling that he couldn’t really see, that whatever it was he was looking at belonged in his memories, and not in the present.

Hermione appeared furious, her expression tense, determined, and likely hiding her own discomfort. Harry was about to say something, to unite his group by some encouraging speech, like he often did, but to his surprise, and slight relief, Hermione spoke up before him, saving him from being the one to have to support five people while he too, felt uncomfortable. 

“This cannot be acceptable!” Hermione declared. “That type of behavior, scaring and scarring the students… I understand his reasoning behind teaching us about it, but the way he was edging us against one another…!” She reached out and grabbed a hold of both Draco and Ron, stopping each teenager from ripping old wounds open in their silent distress. “Harry, Malfoy, you go speak with Professor Snape right away. Neville and Ron, we’ll go speak to Professor McGonagall.” 

Ron, who appeared highly embarrassed to have been touched out of nowhere, and also caught in the midst of retorting to bad habits, chewed on his lower lip. “Can we really do that? Go complain about a teacher? Hermione, he is king in there, complaining isn’t going to… to…” He thought of a suiting symbolism for the king. “Remove his crown?” He finished, somewhat lamely. 

Hermione’s eyes flared with passion as she looked back at him. “Grossly oversimplified: America ended segregation by the means of suing the people in power and the government, which some might call similar to complaining.” She stated. “And the first Pride Parade was a riot. Compliance in a bad situation is feeding those who would rather see you remain in it.” She squeezed both Draco’s and Ron’s hands, then let go of Draco to gently grab Neville instead. “We’ll see you at dinner.” She began pulling her friends with her, leading them towards change. 

Harry and Draco remained where they were, looking after their friends as Hermione hurried them along, although she took great care to not push Neville too hard or too much. Harry slid a little closer to his friend, with the awkwardness of someone who knew that he was allowed to, but hesitated for personal reasons. He replaced Hermione’s hand with his own, although the replacement was clumsy, causing Harry to bump against the silver snake cufflinks which Draco always wore, as he grabbed onto the pale wizard’s hand. 

Draco looked down at him, the angle really wasn’t too flattering, but Harry found himself unable to care about such unimportant details when he could instead put his energy into looking upon the teenager’s slightly red lips. Draco returned the squeeze of his hand as per usual.

“What is a Pride Parade?” He asked as the two of them began walking towards Professor Snape’s office, as they both agreed, without having to voice it, that Hermione was right in her suggested course of action. 

“I don’t know,” Harry responded, “but it sounds very important. Maybe even life changing for some, by the way she compared it to segregation.”

“I suppose I will ask her later then.” Draco concluded. “Do you believe Nott will be alright? I haven’t seen him that shaken, with the exception of when he was faced with a Dementor.”  

“I think Blaise might make it better.” Harry thought of the way Nott looked upon his fellow Slytherin, and of the affections which he likely held towards Blaise. It wasn’t that everyone enjoyed being comforted by the person who they were crushing on, but Harry knew Nott well enough to suspect that he was one of the people who would. Maybe, in the case of Nott and Blaise, knowing that Blaise did care about him enough to follow him, might be enough to at least momentarily lift the tinkerer goblin’s spirits. 

Harry knew for certain that he would have appreciated Draco comforting him if he was distressed. He also knew that the blonde teenager would beyond doubt come to comfort him, and the certainty behind the thought made Harry feel endlessly happy. He hoped that Draco knew that he would come to comfort him too, should he need it. Always. 

Professor Snape was not surprised about their complaints about the teaching methods of Alastor Moody. They had been lucky to catch him in his office, working on administrative documents and papers which were likely in preparation of the delegates from the other schools which would arrive shortly. He welcomed Harry and Draco inside so that they could speak freely about their highly uncomfortable lesson with Moody. They did their best to retell everything objectively, but it was hard to not feel upset about the events which had transpired. Professor Snape did not blame them for their inability to remain objective. 

“I believe it is a failure of us as a teaching body to allow this to happen,” the Potions Master began, “but you are not the first ones to complain about Mr. Moody and his teaching methods. It has been less than a week, and he will be receiving a warning as soon as the Headmaster returns from Bulgaria. He is currently busy with preparations for the Trimagus Tournament, but he will be back by tomorrow night. He has so far managed to frighten most of the student body with his behaviour, and it is not something Hogwarts stands for as a house of education.” 

After stating what was expected of him as a teacher, Snape looked down upon his partner’s son and his own Godson, as his expression turned gentler. The expression had no doubt come to enter into his possession through his relationship with Remus, but if he failed to hide it because he had become comfortable with the expression, or if he wanted to show it to his close-to-but-technically-not sons, neither of the almost sons knew for certain. “I did not think it was a good idea to hire Moody. I’m sorry that you, and everyone else, are forced to deal with him because we could not find someone more qualified to take his place. I will personally speak with Professor Dumbledore, this is not something you students should endure.” He confessed. 

“Thank you, Professor.” As if they had rehearsed it, the two teenagers spoke up in tandem. 

Professor Snape nodded. “If Mr. Nott does not improve, I will encourage him to visit the school counselor, as he should not be left to suffer in silence or alone. I trust that the Deputy Headmistress will do the same to her students, but I will take care to mention it to her when I see her next. Was there anything else you needed me for?” He glanced back towards his work, expressing without words that he had a lot of work ahead of him which he would like to get back to. Yet, it was not a demand for them to leave.

Over the time Professor Snape had come to spend with the Lupin family, it seemed that he was seeking to isolate himself a lot less, which both boys were happy about. Harry sometimes thought back to what Draco had admitted about his mother's worries for the man, and how it seemed that Professor Snape was better off these days just as Harry knew the relationship was good for his dad.

“I did not have anything else to say, no.” Draco looked to Harry. 

Harry shook his head in return. “Nothing comes to mind, thank you for your time, Professor.” Harry smiled at the man. 

“It is part of my work.” The Professor assured them, secretly running from the compliment by using such a standardised response. “Would you make sure to close the door properly on your way out? Good. Ah, and Mr. Lupin, do write to your father before too long, or he will think that something has happened to you.” 

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the comment. “I will. You should write to him as well, or he will think that something has happened to you.” 

Harry didn’t get to see his dad’s partner’s reaction, for Draco accidentally pushed the door shut as he tried to hold back his fit of laughter, managing to do so at the cost of shutting the door too quickly. As soon as the door was safely shut Draco’s facade broke and he chuckled loudly into his hand. 

“Harry…!” He breathed, clearly not upset at all, but unable to say anything else for the moment. 

Harry smiled innocently. “What?” He tried to keep from laughing along with his best friend, but was ultimately pulled along with his amusement. It felt wonderful to laugh, to chase away the discomfort of Moody by replacing it with joy instead. 

Inside his office, Severus Snape placed a paper aside on his desk, dedicating it to become a letter to his partner in the near future. A partner who would indeed become worried if he did not hear from either him or Harry, although Remus would never admit it out of fear of being a burden.

Severus, in turn, wouldn’t tell him that he was flattered by the very concept of someone worrying about him, as he had always believed that to be a luxury which nobody would ever extend towards his person. He knew it was a strange form of selfishness to find pleasure in such a thing, but the reasons why he enjoyed Remus’ company and their relationship were plenty, having one comparatively bad reason which he kept to himself was no crime, and it did not harm them as a couple. 

As he returned to work, a distant, far part of his mind toyed with the idea of dedicating the letter to ‘Dearest Remus’ but the words were too powerful to record, too honest to write, too fragile to think about clearly. For now, the letter would say ‘Dear Remus’ and it would bring the man in question immense joy. In the safety of his office, Severus allowed himself a small smile as he thought about just how happy a single letter from him would make his partner. The endearing, honest, gentle man that he was. 

However, there was work to be done, so Remus would have to wait a little longer for his promised letter.  

Chapter Text

Almost two months had passed since Harry and his friends began their fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry had written to his dad a few times, but he generally didn’t have a lot to write about beside school activities, as he was mostly busy with schoolwork. 

Luckily, the problem which was Moody was dealt with as soon as Professor Dumbledore came back, with the man receiving a warning for his treatment of the students. He also had to apologise to each class, and while some might have preferred if he apologised specifically to the students who he had hurt, far more were uncomfortable with the idea of receiving a personal apology from Moody. 

Then, something quite so extraordinary had happened: Moody had become a decent to good teacher. He stopped accusing students and seemed to have well received the notion that he would have to behave and treat the children with respect, lest lose his job.

He was still struggling with some things, and he sometimes startled the students with hasty movements or simply disassociated in the middle of speaking. Still, he was becoming better, so much so that after a mere two months, he had started to have his own style of teaching, which some students, like Nott, had begun to enjoy. It didn’t mean that they were all comfortable with him, and while he was nowhere near as good of a teacher as Remus was, he was far more animated and exciting to listen to than Professor Quirrell, and clearly knew what he was talking about in a way which Professor Lockhart hadn’t. Once, he even mentioned werewolves in the same tone which one spoke of a sickness which couldn’t be cured. That earned him a slight bit more respect from Harry. 

Moody’s teaching methods proved to be highly physical. 

At first, he had seemed quite so bitter that he was no longer able to teach the students in a way he wanted to, yet he came up with a lesson idea which Harry was rather sure wasn’t in any teaching plans in any magic centered school.

Moody told them all to bring their least valuable clothes, skip their ties and suggested for everyone to wear trousers to the next lesson. Then, he gathered them outside on one of the fields, which he had remade into a sort of training course with obstacles and barricades. He taught them all a spell which, upon hitting someone, would discolor their clothes with what appeared to be big spots of paint, but was in fact magic discoloring what it had hit. The spots could be easily removed with another spell, which he taught them as well. Then, he set them free in an all against all battle, training them to duck and hide. Once hit by the illusion of paint, that person was removed from the field and had to wait to be let back in. Hermione said that the game reminded her of one which she had played in Muggle middle school, where the goal was mostly the same but the objects doing the hitting were soft balls. 

In the beginning, the games had been simple, all against all, loss after hit, but then Moody began to add other rules. He allowed them to pair up, then to become units. He built little houses for them to invade, then divided the students up as actors, where some played innocent civilians to be saved from the ‘criminals’ as Moody called them. It did occur to some that they were essentially being trained as Aurors, as task forces, but it was mostly so much fun that few cared.

However, someone complained again, and Moody had grumpily told them that he had to restrict his outdoor lessons since some people found it too cold. Further, he had been told that he was straying too far from the curriculum and had to restrict the outdoor lessons to one per month, until the weather got warmer. Then he would be allowed to let them out twice a month. 

Harry, alongside a number of students, lamented the loss of the outdoor lessons, as they had been fun, and Moody was clearly in a far better mood when he was not locked up in a classroom. Harry absentmindedly noticed that it was possible that the man’s paranoia caused him slight claustrophobia, yet he couldn’t be sure. 

Draco, along with many of the other Quidditch players and aspiring Quidditch players, had welcomed the physical activity, and were sad to see it removed. 

Nott, who had found great enjoyment in overacting a distressed civilian, was expressively sad that he would have no use for his, almost perfected, distress call. The call in question had terrified Ron, who had accidentally shot Nott once, while he aimed at Blaise and failed to consider the possibility that Blaise would use Nott as a shield to protect himself. Ron had been quite upset, but Moody and Nott had both found it hilarious, while Blaise tried his best to act like his usage of Nott as a shield hadn’t been more of a mistake than a planned action. 

Hermione had struggled a lot with the lessons, and had generally been taken out pretty early, except once, when she had strategically crashed into Draco, and got them both taken out by a stray attack from someone neither of them had seen. Once, she had betrayed Neville, and had subsequently felt bad for the rest of the day, although everyone assured her that it had been fine. 

Parkinson proved to be a cunning strategist and was more often than not in the game to the very end. One of the most memorable of the games had pitted her against Parvati Patil, and the battle had escalated into a Muggle Western drama, which Harry had recently learned about in Muggle Studies, with the two young women shouting insults at one another while they colored the objects around them in all colors of the rainbow. When Parkinson finally won, it had been a legendary victory, at least until Nott began to live out his dreams of being a distressed civilian. 

Draco was generally good at the game, but tended to forget that he wasn’t as fast on ground as he was in the air, on a broom. He often made the right maneuvers, and was very quick in ducking or hiding, but sometimes misjudged the distance of covers. He greatly enjoyed the game, and Harry, as well as their friends, couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be getting better with an alarming speed. Once, they sent him into a makeshift building alone, and he managed to defeat the three people in there without any color getting to him. After that measurable feat, he was collided into by Hermione, this time by accident, and they were both hit. It spoiled his legendary victory slightly, but after a few minutes, it had him doubling over with laughter as Hermione squeaked out apologies. 

Harry was by no means very good at the game, but he was slightly better at hiding than Hermione was, so he usually lasted longer than her, but not by too long. He became decent at ducking, but afterwards, he didn’t really have the speed or stamina to get away. Ron had identified this weakness, and the two of them were fighting a fierce but friendly battle of survival. Currently, the score was Ron: 8 and Harry: 3. Once, Ron had saved Harry from Goyle, which they both counted as a victory for themselves, and had agreed to raise the numbers by one. After they came to that conclusion, they were both taken out in quick succession by Neville, who had seen a chance and opted to take it. 

Harry was slightly bummed out that he wouldn’t have the chance to raise his score any higher for a while, but made a small promise to himself to try and work out more, if only to get better at running away from Ron during outdoors Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco thought the idea of exercise was good, and volunteered to help him, should he need it. Harry welcomed and needed the help. 

Some more time passed, and the long awaited day finally came, when the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive, signalling the start of the Trimagus Tournament. 

“Remember,” Professor McGonagall concluded her lesson, “that all students should begin preparation for their O.W.L exams which will be taking place next year. I know that me telling this now may appear far too early, but you should all know of and be prepared for them. However, as the delegates from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute will be arriving today, I can tell that if I tell you of your O.W.Ls today, you will forget it in the rush of tonight. I will properly instruct you in what those exams mean during your next Transfiguration lesson. Have a pleasant All Hallow’s Eve, and do not run in the corridors.” With those words, she ended her lesson, and concluded their final lesson of the day. 

She hadn’t been wrong about their excitement. The whole school seemed to be buzzing with life and energy, as the students and Hogwarts workers became infected with curiosity and excitement, most of which was aimed towards the students who would soon arrive to share a living space with them. Some were nervous, but most people looked forward to the occasion. After all, they would have a tournament taking place on their very own school grounds, with free admission for the students to enjoy the spectacle. 

The castle had been scrubbed almost floor to ceiling, appearing as close to new as it probably could. Things had been cleaned, restored, the Hogwarts House Hourglasses polished until they were shining. The décor in the Great Hall that evening was splendid, with seemingly no expenses spared in making sure that the decorations appeared exquisite and magical. The younger students, and the more likely than not Muggle-born ones, were enthralled by the magic on display. Harry spotted Colin Creevy and with someone who was likely his brother judging by his appearance. The older brother pointed to the decorations and took photos of his younger brother, both of them talking eagerly. Harry made a note in the back of his mind to ask Creevy if the younger teenager would be alright with taking a photograph of him and his friends later.

Harry and his group of friends were slightly disappointed to be separated from the rest of their friend group when the Headmaster asked everyone to return to their House tables for the moment. They were allowed to return to their preferred seats wherever they wanted after the welcoming ceremony was done, but for the sake of not confusing the newcomers, the Headmaster asked them to sit by their Houses for the moment. Harry could think of a few counter arguments to the idea that they had to be seated by numbers for the sake of not confusing the newcomers, especially since the confusion would surely be bigger if they all simply wandered about after having been presented in sets of color. However, he wasn’t in a position to complain, so he watched his Gryffindor friends return to their House table, while Lovegood fluttered off to hers. 

The delegates had arrived earlier that day, both in rather bold fashion. The students had been told to leave them be, and not go outside to witness their arrival for the sake of not making the arriving students feel pressured and exposed before they even had the time to settle in. Some had respected the fact that treating the visitors like objects to admire would be dehumanising them, but some had sneaked away from the castle to have a look either way. Harry and his friends had overheard someone talk about it; apparently, the Beauxbatons students had arrived in a flying carriage, drawn by winged horses as big as elephants, while the Durmstrang students had come by boat, a massive ship with the most intricate of details and decorations. The students from Beauxbatons were apparently all stunningly beautiful and elegant in all that they did, not to mention, they welcomed the looks and attention, or so people said. The Durmstrang students looked hardened and tough, the type of young men and women who would just as well use magic as they would use violence in a fight. Some students claimed that they all appeared to be Dark Mages, and seemed solemn and a little frightening. Harry decided to refrain from judgement until he saw the students for himself, as his own observations would probably be far more useful to him than any gossip from another source. 

“Students, would you lend me your ears?” Professor Dumbledore spoke up from the front of the Great Hall, raising his hands to further note to the people gathered that he wanted their attention. 

The Great Hall quieted down, and for the moment, most people forgot to look towards the doors, even if some still glanced expectantly towards them. It was at the very least an improvement compared to everyone guarding the door like dogs waiting for the mail to arrive. Normally, Harry wouldn’t naturally think of that comparison, but after having lived with his dogfather for a few months, he had learned that there were few things as interesting to a dog as the arrival of the mail. 

“As you know, the delegates have arrived, and are waiting outside of the Great Hall on my request, as I wanted this final chance to speak just to you.” The old wizard began. 

Some looked worried as he spoke, glancing between one another as if they expected to be scolded. 

“I want you all to remember that Hogwarts will be the home to more students than just you this year, and as it will be their home, I should hope that you think of them not as some strange, exotic guests to be stared at, but as fellow students. Some of them have chosen to come here despite struggling somewhat with the language. Do not treat them as if they are less intelligent for this fact, but respect that some words are taught more frequently and commonly than others to non-native speakers. Be respectful, not patronising. Finally, know that the culture of Mage societies in different countries differs more than you might have initially thought. You have probably heard that the Durmstrang Institute has elected to teach their students Dark Arts, and this might raise some alarm for some of you. However, to understand what might seem frightening and ever so surprising to us, we have to consider the fact that most of central and Eastern Europe, as well as East of it, did not experience the Mage War, neither any extremism and terror before it. What we know as Dark Arts has never poisoned the societies wherein they lived, not like anything we experienced here in Britain. I would like to remind you that Dark Arts is not, and have never been, strictly illegal, but rather frowned upon and removed from the British mage society to heal the wounds of war. The arts are still implemented in many parts of society, but in harmless forms we accept and do not mind. If you recall anything from my little speech, remember that Dark Arts is not as frightening as it may sound.” 

The old wizard paused to allow his words to sink in, then began to speak once more. “The students from Durmstrang have been made aware of the hurt and damage which have been caused by and with Dark Arts here in Britain, and have been asked to be mindful towards a culture different from their various origins. Likewise, I would ask you to be mindful and respectful towards them, and to not brand them with ideologies that were never a part of their lives.”

The students of Hogwarts seemed to react in various ways to the Headmaster’s statement. Harry was reminded of those thoughts he was confirming the more time he spent in Muggle Studies, that was to say, that people in different parts of the world experienced different things, had different cultures, and altogether different references of things. Had he not learnt those things, or entertained those thoughts, he probably wouldn’t have had as easy of a time agreeing with Professor Dumbledore. Dark Arts had been the source of a lot of hurt towards his dad, his close family and friends, and Harry had very negative associations with the arts after having been accused of being a practitioner repeatedly. Yet, if Dark Arts was only frowned upon because of the Mage War, then most of the world would likely not mind Dark Arts, seeing the fact that the war took place in Britain, and only scarcely affected nearby countries and connected communities.

Knowing the current student body of Hogwarts, Harry sincerely doubted that the exchange would go far too smoothly. From experience, he could point at some people which would likely not accept them at all, and some people, like his friends, who he knew would at least try to be patient and understanding, no matter how Dark Arts had affected them negatively. Hopefully, it wouldn’t become too much of a problem at the school.

“Further,” the Headmaster called for their attention once more, “I wish you all to know that many of the students who will be attending this year are in high numbers close to or over eighteen, as both Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy incorporate study years from one to eight, rather than the one to seven which Hogwarts employs.” 

The old man smiled at his students, giving them all a very grandfather-like look, before he held out his hands towards the doors of the Great Hall, which flew open at his unspoken command. “Hogwarts, let us welcome Igor Karkaroff and his students of Durmstrang Institute with an applause.” 

Igor Karkaroff entered first, walking before his students, who were dressed in what Harry assumed to be the uniforms of their school. There was no difference between the uniforms, all of them adapted black trousers and a dark red, almost brown jacket, and a pair of boots. He briefly wondered if the dark colors was what had made people say they looked like Dark Mages. Karkaroff looked a lot like he had back when Harry had first met him at the Quidditch World Cup, he looked dignified and slightly pleased with the applause, accepting it as if it was for him alone. He reminded Harry of a smug cat where he walked before his students, guiding them. 

Next to Karkaroff walked a person who, judging by the whispers and Draco’s claws in Harry’s arm, was Victor Krum, the Quidditch player legend. Over by the Gryffindor table, Ron had adopted a similar approach to what Draco had done as he saw Krum, only that Neville happened to be his victim. Krum looked utterly jaded to the applause, instead staring straight ahead, almost as if he couldn’t really hear it. 

Behind the Headmaster walked another two teachers, one man and one woman. The students which followed the teachers and Krum appeared like normal students, albeit that many of them appeared close to seventeen and eighteen, rather than the mix of ages in Hogwarts. Some appeared dignified, others nervous, while some looked like they regretted quite a few choices which had led them to this point in their lives. More than anything, they looked like people. Had they been wearing Hogwarts uniforms, Harry was certain that they would have fit in without anyone noticing. 

The students moved towards the front of the Slytherin table, and were seated. Some of them greeted the Hogwarts students next to them, while others took the time to study the ceiling or take in the grandness of the Hall itself. 

Professor Dumbledore allowed the applause to die down as Karkaroff walked to take his place by the Teachers’ table, followed by the other two teachers from Durmstrang Institute. Harry noticed how the man stopped for just a moment to give Professor Snape’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before taking his seat next to the Potions Master. It made Harry happy to see that his dad’s partner had more friends in the world than the members of the Hogwarts faculty. 

“Now, I wish you all to extend an equal welcome to Madame Olympe Maxime and her students from Beauxbatons Acamedy of Magic.” The old wizard spoke once more. 

His words produced a collection of students from the entrance hall, making it appear as if they had been hiding out of sight. They were a collection of young mages, dressed in bright blue uniforms. Unlike Durmstrang Institute, the student from Beauxbatons had differing uniforms, some featuring skirts and some featuring trousers, both made in the same lightweight, silky material as the top part of the uniform. It appeared as if they had some manner of hair dressing code, for none of the students wore their hair freely if it reached to their shoulders, but had it put up in elaborate hairdos. The uniforms were clearly not gendered, as Harry saw some male presenting people wear skirts, and some female presenting people wear trousers. 

Yet again, Harry noticed that the students from Beauxbatons were, well, just people. They weren’t all otherworldly beauties, but people who had clearly put effort into presenting professionally as they visited another country. This professional appearance took the form of cleanly pressed uniforms, elaborate hairdos, and makeup. Even then, not all the students had taken the time to do more than have their uniforms pressed. 

Behind the students walked two teachers, one being a smaller woman with her hair put up in a similar way to the students, her skin a deep, dark tone, and robes a similar color to the students before her. Next to her walked a giant woman, with a coat which was no doubt more expensive than the entirety of Harry’s home and most things within it. Harry could immediately tell that she was the Headmaster of Beauxbatons, because the way she carried herself left no doubt about her position. She wore a kind expression on her face as she walked alongside the other teacher towards the other end of the Great Hall where the Hogwarts Headmaster was waiting. Professor Dumbledore took the time to kiss her hand, as well as the hand of the much smaller female teacher she had brought with her as the Beauxbatons students got seated by the Ravenclaw table. Harry absently noted that a few more of them seemed eager to speak with the Hogwarts students by the same table, but that probably had more to do with the fact that older students were seated at the front of the Ravenclaw table compared to the first year Slytherin students who found themselves next to the Durmstrang students. 

The Hogwarts Headmaster returned to his podium once more and held up his arms, signalling for the attention of the people gathered in the Great Hall. When he spoke, he took extra care to articulate his words, he did so without sounding patronising. “All students, welcome to Hogwarts. We welcome you as our own students, and hope that you will find yourselves comfortable during this year of cultural and social exchange. Now, for the main event of this evening, allow me to present to you… The Goblet of Fire!” Seeing the fact that the Headmaster went straight ahead to the main event, Harry concluded that the teachers must have met with the foreign students previous to this gathering.

Next to the old wizard, blue smoke erupted, and a beautiful goblet rose from the ground, capturing the light of thousands of candles within its cup as it ascended. From the cup rose a deeply blue flame in the same color as Moody’s blue eye. From around the goblet, smoke continued to pour, swirling as if moved by the awe which was aimed at the magical artifact by the entirety of the Great Hall. 

Professor Dumbledore allowed the students to speak between themselves for a little while, then spoke over them, kindly calling their attention back to him. “A total of nine names will be entered into the Goblet of Fire, three from each school. Those of you who have had interest in entering will be properly reviewed during the following day, and your names will be entered in the evening of Saturday. On Sunday this weekend, the Trimagus champions will be chosen, and then a grand feast will be held to celebrate said champions. Of course, the Goblet of Fire shall not be put on display, as it is far too dangerous to leave an ancient magical artifact out in the open. This is not to say that we do not trust you students but-”

“You don’t actually trust us!” One of the Weasley twins shouted. He saw a chance and took it. 

Some people giggled at his outburst, including some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, but most looked embarrassed over the unwanted commentary. Ron and Ginny looked like they both wanted to sink through the floor, with Ron even attempting to hide his red hair under his hands. It didn’t work at all, but it did make him look ever so miserable. 

Professor Dumbledore chuckled at the Weasley twin’s words, then shook his head. “I was going to state that we do not want any accidents to unfold, but if you find your version more appealing, then I assure you I shall not take your freedom of choice from you.” The Headmaster avoided mentioning Weasley’s name, to assure that nobody was able to identify him who didn’t already know him. “But for the rest of today, we shall honor the cultural and social exchange, and allow our very guests to enjoy the food and drink Hogwarts has to offer. Let the Halloween welcoming feast begin.” 

The scent of food followed Professor Dumbledore's words as food appeared upon the plates and serving trays upon the tables, much to the enjoyment of the students. 

Draco turned towards Harry, who could see stars in his best friend’s eyes. “He’s so handsome…!” He whispered, trying to remain as calm and collected as always, clearly restraining himself in his desire to look towards the place where Victor Krum was seated. 

“He looked more normal than I had expected up close.” Blaise answered, clearly having heard Draco’s whisper. 

Draco looked like he was about to pout, but he managed to regain control over himself before he succumbed to such dishonor. “Handsome doesn’t necessarily have to mean extraordinary.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but did anyone spot the handsome woman amongst the Be-be-beh students?” Nott asked eagerly. “Or I think it was a woman, actually, maybe it wasn’t a woman? If I ever meet them, I’ll ask for their preferred pronouns.” 

“It’s Beauxbatons.” Draco and Blaise corrected him, both with perfect French accents, at least to Harry’s ears. 

Nott met Harry’s gaze before rolling his own eyes, causing the son of a werewolf to chuckle and shake his head. “I admire your attempt.” Harry said, diplomatically. 

“Thank you, Lup-ling, my only friend in this trying time.” Nott spoke solemnly, before he broke out laughing. “I hope we get any of the students in our class, I’d love to ask the French people some stuff about their subjects. I’ve heard that they have a class which specialises in teaching about magical objects, and infusing magic into otherwise mundane constructions, like clockwork!” 

“And bombs?” Blaise suggested. 

“Yes!” Nott cheered, his eyes gleaming. 

Harry smiled at Draco as the blonde teenager passed him a piece of chicken which he couldn’t reach from his current position. He hadn’t even noticed that the chicken pieces were there, but Draco apparently had and had skipped the questioning to simply give Harry his desired food. His plate filled with more food, although this time, it was added by himself, mostly. Nott made an attempt to push a piece of pumpkin over to him, and Harry accepted it to help his friend. After all, it was Halloween, and Harry wanted all the pumpkin he could get.  

His group was too far from the Durmstrang students to actually interact them, which meant that their dinner was mostly the same as always, if not for the fact that it took their Gryffindor friends a while to join them. The Slytherin table was rather full that evening and Hermione, Neville and Ron had to wait for some students to leave before there was space for them. Only when the three Gryffindor students came over to their group did it truly feel like they were celebrating together with friends. 

“Krum is even more handsome in real life than he is on his posters!” Ron whispered as he sat down next to Draco, who nodded in support of his words. 

“Finally someone who understands.” Draco sighed, throwing Blaise a disapproving look. 

The teenager returned with a shrug, hiding his pleasant smile behind his drinking goblet.  

Neville absently rubbed his upper arm where Ron had forcefully grabbed him. “I had a suspicion you found him appealing…” He mumbled. 

Hermione giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand. Harry noticed that she seemed exceedingly happy. He didn’t know it, but for a person like Hermione who had grown up in the Muggle world, where those masculine of gender were expected to never admit attraction to someone of the same sex or gender presentation, it was an incredible relief to her to be reminded that the Mage Society of which she was a part of was different to the one from which she had originally come. Neville smiled at her in a knowing manner. He knew well what Harry did not, and he strongly approved of his best friend feeling comfortable among her own people. 

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that we are studying when there are new students who we could be spending time getting to know.” Ron complained. He had been very honest in admitting that he needed help with his Muggle Studies homework, and he hadn’t complained for three hours. Even now, he wasn’t so much complaining as he was venting his emotions in a slightly unhealthy manner, as he wasn’t actually addressing the real problem. 

“At least we are finished now.” Draco commented as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head as he held back a yawn. 

“You were a great help.” Harry smiled towards Draco and Hermione. “It would have taken us double the time on our own.” 

Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Lovegood were sitting in a study room together, going over Harry, Ron and Lovegood’s Muggle Studies homework. The homework itself was rather simple, but it had taken them quite some time to go over it because they had ended up distracted by small things and information which led them down rabbit holes. By the time they had finished their study session, Hermione, with some passive assistance from Draco, had taught them a lot more than they needed to know to pass the next lesson with flying colors. Neville was there because he didn’t want to be alone, he had mostly listened to the information with a passive look of polite interest. 

“It’s no trouble at all!” Hermione beamed at Harry. 

“I learned a lot. Let us hope that the Knowledgenibblers don’t get to us so that we forget it all again.” Lovegood spoke in her absent tone of voice. 

“Yeah, that would be a shame.” Ron agreed as he stood up to open a window. The cold October wind was not the most pleasant to have entering their study abode, but they all needed the air for the sake of their brains. Ron sighed, resting his head on his hand, his elbow firmly planted onto the windowsill. He was still standing up. “Who do you think will be chosen as the Hogwarts Champion?” He asked. 

Harry frowned to himself. “I don’t think I know anyone who is old enough to enter the tournament.” He glanced towards Draco, as if his friend held the answer to who he knew and did not know. 

Draco shrugged. “I would have suggested Marcus Flint or Oliver Wood, but they both graduated last year, so they couldn’t possibly be chosen for the tournament.” 

Harry remembered what Oliver Wood had been like back when he had actually sort of spent time with the firecracker of a Gryffindor student during last year and last year's Holiday celebrations. Wood would surely have been someone who wanted to compete for honor and glory in the Trimagus Tournament. Harry smiled a small smile at the memory of Flint and Wood, and how the two got along so well despite being supposed rivals. 

“Cedric Diggory will compete for Hogwarts.” Lovegood spoke up as she looked out at the half moon which hung in the sky, defying the rules which stated that it should only be visible during the night.  

“How do you know?” Neville blinked at the younger girl, leaning his head to the side. 

“The moon told me.” She nodded knowingly. “She only speaks in riddles, written in the sand of a moonlit beach by the moon alignment merfolks. Some call them mermaids, but they are tired of being placed within binary boxes, and prefer merfolk.” 

Nobody had the heart to tell Lovegood that the underwater people might not be all too aware of a giant space rock hovering miles and miles above their abode in the deepest parts of the sea. When living at the bottom of the ocean, the different tides would make little to no difference for the creatures. 

“Ron, it’s getting cold, do you mind closing the window?” Hermione glanced towards the red haired teenager, smiling carefully at him. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” Ron closed the window, then suddenly screamed. 

Only he wasn’t the only voice who was screaming. 

Then there was a subtle thud and Hermione let out a yelp. 

Ron had closed the window, only to find the reflection of a pair of big, yellow eyes staring up at him from around waist height. He spun around, pressing himself to the windowsill, as the owner of the yellow eyes screamed and retreated in the other direction and straight into Hermione’s knees. Draco got to his feet, as did Harry. Now that they were standing up, the two Slytherin students could see the yellow eyed creature for what, or rather, who, it was. 

“...Dobby?” Draco spoke up first, looking at the small elf, who was rubbing the back of his head. 

“Young Master!” Dobby raised his head, unable to stop himself from smiling as he spotted Draco and Harry. He was dressed in a small set of clothes, which appeared to be completely brand new. They fit him almost perfectly. He had a small dress shirt, a vest, a set of striped trousers and a pair of tiny shoes. Upon his head was a stylish yet small top hat. He looked healthy, happy and most of all confident. Nothing like the House Elf which Harry had met almost two years ago. He was so stylish that he rendered the House Elf behind him almost invisible. She was dressed in a shoddy dress made out of an old pillowcase, her feet bare and her expression sour. “Oh, no… Dobby isn’t… Dobby is sorry for the confusion, Young Mr. Malfoy.” He bowed deeply. He made no effort to harm himself, or to speak of his life and existence as useless. 

Harry stared at him, a smile beginning to appear on his face as Draco gaped at his former servant. Hermione still didn’t know where to look or what to say. Ron stared, as did Neville, while Lovegood appeared as calm as ever.  

“Dobby… What are you doing here…?” Harry slowly began to speak, trying hard to stop himself from smiling. He felt like an idiot, but Dobby’s change was so dramatic that he didn’t know what else to do. It was incredibly relieving to know that the House Elf was no longer as self destructive as he had once been. 

“Harry Potter Lupin!” The House Elf beamed at Harry now. 

Well, it seemed like he still had some work to reach a person who Harry could actually spend time around. 

“You see, Dobby’s friend Winky has been very depressed lately, so Dobby thought that if she was taken to meet the Harry Pott-” he suddenly stopped speaking, frowned to himself, then spoke up once more. “Dobby misspoke, Harry Lupin.”

Harry blinked, finding himself laughing with relief and happiness as Dobby addressed him by his name. He found himself grabbing Draco’s arm, beaming at the other teenager. 

“Well, Dobby through that Winky would be happy to meet Harry Lupin, as he is very nice to House Elves!” Dobby concluded, beaming at his friend. 

She looked like she wanted to feed his top hat to him, as a look of hatred flashed over her round features. She grabbed her ears in an outburst of desperation and stomped her feet. “No! No! No!” She whimpered. “Dobby speaks to his old Master! He addressed a hero without the proper title! He dresses in human clothes! Disgrace! Disgrace! Winky has been forced to leave her Master, and now she will become associated with Dobby the human House Elf!” She all but wailed. 

“H-hey… No, don’t…” Hermione got up and then got down on her knees, carefully pulling the elf’s hands away from her ears to stop her from hurting herself. “W-what are you doing?” 

“She is a House Elf, Hermione…” Ron spoke up as the House Elf glared daggers at the teenager. “They are like that, you will only make it worse if you try to intervene with her.” 

“Like that?” She echoed, blinking as she kept Winky from pulling her ears once more. “You want me to let her keep on hurting herself?” Other than seeing the House Elf at Malfoy Manor from afar, Hermione had never really interacted with House Elves, neither had she seen Dobby at his worst, or even known of his behaviours.

“No…” Ron admitted, chewing on his lower lip. “But they are sort of… trained to be punished for their failures…” The more he spoke, the more Ron realised that what he was saying was nothing he could stand for, or that he believed was a good thing. 

“And you… Is your House Elf hurting herself like this as well…? Punishing herself for… for… minor mistakes and the like?” Hermione looked at Draco, her eyes filling with uncertainty and blame. Harry almost wanted to intervene just to tell her that the new House Elf with the Malfoys wasn't being punished or abused, but wasn't the first who spoke up.

“My family owns House Elves as well, and they aren’t always being hurt for failures.” Neville had also noticed that Draco was becoming uncomfortable and stepped in to help him. “Hogwarts employs over a hundred of them for various chores around the castle. They are the ones cleaning and cooking for everyone, among other things.” 

“But that… that is slavery! I thought that Hogwarts hired and paid people to do those chores,” Hermione cried out as she got to her feet. “Look at this poor elf, she is not wearing shoes in October? And that dress is… it’s a pillow sheet!” 

“If you give a House Elf a piece of clothing, they will be freed from service.” Neville explained. “So they are often dressed in whatever they can use to make clothes out of.”

He was the only one who dared speaking to Hermione when she was like this. Everyone else in the room was worried that they would hurt her, insult her, or make her feel like an outsider as she didn’t know what they viewed as common knowledge. Not to mention that she really made them all realise just how enslaved the House Elves were. Informing her of their existence felt like an all too lacking explanation for something which they all should have identified as wrong a lot earlier. 

Hermione’s eyes were practically bulging as she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean that I have unknowingly benefited from slavery for three years? How… How could Hogwarts do this!? I… This can’t be right, we have to do something… make a petition to the Ministry… gather people, rise up… Something!” 

“Hermione,” Draco suddenly spoke up, his voice cutting through her panic as he addressed her by her name. “There is nothing you can do.” He stated the fact as clearly as he could. “This goes a lot deeper than you appear to understand. You are right, this isn’t right, and it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. However, very few people would agree with you in that it has to change. People do not tend to rise up against something they benefit from. The elves themselves couldn't actually rise up from their current position, neither would they dare to, and they might even reject you and their freedom.”

“N-no way…” She objected, as she turned towards the elves. She knew from knowing Draco that House Elves existed, but she had clearly never imagined that their existence was like this, as the Malfoy family’s House Elf was at the very least dressed better than this and possessed shoes for colder days. The way Hogwarts treated its House Elves was clearly far more traditional than the Malfoys' way of treating their servants. 

Winky had placed her hands over her ears, clearly rejecting Hermione’s attempts to talk to her about freedom and her own rights. Dobby looked guilty. He was poking at the ground in front of him with his feet, trying very hard not to look at any human in the room. 

The look on Hermione’s face could only be described as horrified understanding. When she looked back at Draco, there were traces of tears in her eyes. “This… there has to be a way to change this… Maybe we could go on a hunger strike and…”

“Hermione,” Draco stepped forward and carefully took her hands. “There are some things which can only be changed from up above. We are too young, and too few to actually change anything. However, that might not always be the case. You can work your way up, you can join the Ministry of Magic, and you can bring about change for real. See, right now a House Elf doesn't even have legal rights or protection, neither could they appeal to a Court. It will take time and effort, but going on a hunger strike at the age of fourteen to protest will only make people worry about your mind, not listen to your words.” 

“If you become the Minister of Magic, then you could definitely change a lot of things for Ho- I mean, elves.” Ron added in a helpful manner. 

Hermione sniffled and moved in to hug Draco, who happened to stand the closest to her. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed into Draco’s shirt. He didn’t mind, instead patted her back gently, letting her vent her emotions without interrupting. Anyone who had leant that they had been unknowingly benefitting from slavery for three years had the right to feel upset enough to cry. 

“Uh… How have you been, Dobby? Have you been hired by Hogwarts since long?” Harry tried to avoid a scenario where everyone simply stared at Hermione while she exercised her right to cry. 

If Dobby realised what Harry was doing or not, Harry had no idea, but the House Elf did begin to speak in a hurried manner. “Oh, Dobby was looking for another job for a long time, but couldn’t find one. He came across Winky one day, after she had recently been…” He trailed off, giving his fellow elf a nervous look. 

Winky began to whine about being a disgrace to her Master and her Master’s honorable and wonderful name. If Harry remembered correctly, her Master had been Bartemius Crouch, but he wasn’t entirely sure. It was a little hard to tell with House Elves, but Winky did resemble the elf at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Well, we found our way to Hogwarts, and Mas-, pardon, Headmaster Professor Dumbledore accepted us into his service.” Dobby finished, smiling awkwardly as he wagged back and forth within his shiny shoes. “Dobby is even getting paid! Isn’t that something, Mr. Harry Lupin?!” He looked proud over this.

Winky’s whining rose to prominence once more. “DISGRACE!” She more or less shrieked. 

Dobby gave Harry a strained look which somehow held more personality than Harry would ever have imagined Dobby to possess. It very clearly communicated something along the lines of ‘do you see what I have to deal with?’ 

Dobby raised his voice over Winky’s whining, trying to speak to Harry as if she wasn’t there. “That is why Dobby has clothes now, he bought them for himself through a catalogue. Does Harry Lupin like Dobby’s hat?” 

“DOSGASE!” Winky was no longer making any resemblance of sense. 

Neville finally had enough. “Winky, right? You are dismissed, thank you for your contribution.” 

She sniffed and then disappeared with a plop which seemed ever so passive aggressive. 

Dobby breathed out, evidently relieved that she had left. 

Hermione pulled herself away from Draco, then went to search for a napkin within her bag with which to dry her nose off. Her absence allowed Draco to turn towards his former House Elf. 

“I like your clothes, Dobby.” Draco stated as he absently fumbled with his beloved silver snake cufflinks. “How much did you say that Professor Dumbledore is paying you?” 

“Headmaster Professor Dumbledore pays Dobby one Galleon a week, and lets Dobby have one day off each month!” Dobby looked proud of himself, puffing out his chest. “He offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends completely off every week, but, uh, Dobby thought that was far too much…” 

“I think you should have accepted it. It’s far less than most mages make, and even students get the weekends off.” Draco carefully supported Dobby. 

“Yeah, my dad makes more than that, and he is way underpaid.” Ron had crowned himself the king of the windowsill and had placed himself atop it. “You should at the very least get as much as forty Gallons a month.” 

“You could buy yourself more hats.” Neville suggested. 

“And you’d be an inspiration to House Elves everywhere, allowing them to learn that they can be more than unpaid slaves.” Hermione continued, looking approvingly at Dobby. 

“An inspiration!” Dobby touched both his hands to his cheeks, quickly shaking his head. “No… not Dobby? He couldn’t possibly be anything more than a disgrace of a House Elf…?” He looked to Draco for support. 

The blonde teenager gave him a small smile in return. “Of course you could. You have the chance to be a positive example for your entire kind. You should beyond doubt take this chance to show what you can be, and not remain what you were.” 

Dobby’s cheeks heated and he shook his head again. “Dobby will… Dobby will think about it!” The small elf looked between the people gathered, seemingly swelling with pride as they all gave him approving smiles and nods. Even Lovegood, who had just been sitting still for the entire conversation, nodded. 

It was impossible to spend any time around Lovegood and not realise that the girl was heavily bullied. After all, she preferred to hide away with them by the Slytherin table, or study with them instead of with her classmates, at any chance she got. Harry had realised that she had taken to carrying almost all of her books around with her all the time out of fear that they would be stolen by her fellow students. Every time Harry had tried to initiate a careful conversation about it, she had launched into explanations about Nargles, or Bookwyrms, or something else which was hiding her possessions. Yet to Harry, it was becoming increasingly evident that her quirky behaviors and strange utterances were clearly a fantasy which she kept up to not face the reality of her situation as a bully victim. Harry had even seen her without shoes on a few occasions, which he had recently realised was not because she was quirky, but because someone had stolen them from her, leaving her shoeless in October. 

As Harry looked upon her now, he realised something else about the girl which made him slightly uncomfortable and ever so worried. It appeared that a self defense of Lovegoods’ was to utterly zone out when things got too overwhelming for her. She appeared to have been mentally absent for the entirety of the conversations with the House Elves, and had instead constructed another mental fantasy to protect herself and her mind from the situation at hand. Judging by what little Harry actually knew about Lovegood, it had probably been very hard for her to handle the House Elf yelling about ‘disgrace,’ as it was probably a word which she had likely had thrown at her from a wide variety of people throughout her short life. Both as the daughter of a werewolf, and the daughter of the man who self published the Quibbler. Harry wished that he had noticed something sooner, so that he might have taken Lovegood away from the situation for her own sake. No matter how fine Lovegood forced herself to be right now, she shouldn’t have had to experience the House Elf’s words, or witnessed her self-inflicted self-harm and self-loathing. 

How did one help someone who didn’t want to accept that she needed help? Was the better option to simply leave her be, or to force her to face reality and save her from her own delusions? The delusions themselves were not the problem, it was the fact that by pretending that the situation didn't exist, it would never change, there would never be means to make a change. Harry didn’t have the answer, and he didn’t have any better solution for the moment than to simply be Lovegood’s friend. Maybe that rather lackluster feeling solution was enough to help her in some small, meaningful way? After all, Dobby had changed, and Harry hadn’t really done anything to help him at the end of the day. Maybe Lovegood didn’t need someone to help her as much as she needed someone else to set the ball of change rolling. Then again, maybe Harry wasn’t the right person to do such a thing in the first place. 

Hermione spoke up, shattering Harry’s thoughts in a way which he desperately desired for the moment. She was speaking to Draco, looking at him with a look of disbelief. 

“You just… called me by my name…” 

Draco turned towards her, blinking at her as he played back his own memories to confirm her words to be true. “Oh.” He began, then continued with slightly reddened cheeks. “I should have asked you beforehand, I apologise if I-”

“No, no!” Hermione hurried to interrupt him. “I did… I mean, it is my name after all, why would I not want people to call me by my own name?” 

Draco smiled at her, his cheeks returning to their normal shade of moonlit parchment. “Then I will of course extend the courtesy to you using my name as well.” 

“Oh, like… Like Draco?” She squeaked, fumbling with her own hair as nervousness overcame her. 

“Yes, that is my name.” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. “What did you think my name was?” He teased her slightly, giving her a friendly buff with his elbow. 

“Lucius Junior.” Ron responded from the windowsill, answering the question which wasn’t supposed to be answered. 

Harry and Neville both chuckled, unable to hold back from the unexpected comment. 

“No, that is, in fact, my middle name. Lucius that is, not Junior.” Draco sighed, shaking his head as he stared Ron down. 

Harry spoke up as a frown began to form on his face. “Now that you mention it, I think that I share my middle name with my birth dad as well…”  

“I don’t think I have one…” Neville frowned as well, as if he was trying to remember if he did or not. 

“N-neither have I…” Hermione hurriedly followed Neville. 

Ron sighed, resting his head in his hand as a pouty look formed on his face. “I shouldn’t say anything. I’m named after my uncle… Bilius… Thanks, mom…” 

“My middle name was stolen when I was just a child.” Lovegood’s answer translated to ‘I don’t have a middle name’ to Harry. “I am thankful that it was only my middle name which was stolen, and not my first name, or the toes of my left foot.” 

“Dobby is just Dobby.” The House Elf nodded to himself, looking satisfied with the short and concise identity which he happened to possess. 

The group slowly returned to their seats, and Dobby stayed with them for another half an hour to exchange pleasantries and simply speak. He left with a promise that he would speak to the Headmaster about his paycheck and about having the weekends off. Before he left, he asked Harry to give his best to ‘his father werewolf’ and wished them all a ‘good following year’ and ‘happy health’ before he simply disappeared. After his departure, the group stayed a little longer in their study room, before making their way to the Great Hall to eat dinner.  

Before going to bed that day, Harry took the time to write a letter to his dad, telling Remus about the delegates from the schools, Dobby, and relay Dobby’s message to his dad. He finished the letter by asking his dad to give the best to Snuffles, as he felt like Sirius would appreciate it. He left the letter on his desk to let the ink dry over the night as he went to bed, promising himself that he would send said letter first thing in the morning.  

Chapter Text

The next day passed without too much happening which was of interest for anyone, and yet the entire school and all the students seemed to be a tense mass of expectation and excitement. When the time finally came and the three schools and all the students gathered in the Great Hall, the atmosphere was almost suffocating. 

Even as Harry and his friends were gathering by the Slytherin table, they could hear people speculate all around them over who would be picked for the Trimagus Tournament. Victor Krum was an almost universal expectation for the champion from Durmstrang Institute, but nobody quite knew what else to expect. Harry had heard that Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff House was a likely candidate for Hogwarts, which explained where Lovegood had gotten the idea from, as neither Harry nor anyone of his friends believed in her reading moon messages from merpeople to obtain that information. Judging by the chatter all around them, nobody was sure what person might be expected to be selected as the champion from Beauxbatons Academy. It seemed that those students were a bit closer to each other in abilities than the selection from the other schools. 

The Great Hall had been decorated with banners from all three schools, proudly displaying the Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons emblems above the students’ heads. The candles which floated above them were not the usual warm tones, but instead shone with a blue light which matched the blue flame which the Goblet of Fire produced. The Goblet of Fire was resting next to the Headmaster’s podium, on top of a small stone column, immediately visible to anyone who entered the Great Hall through the main doors. 

Everyone was gathered, the teachers’ table was filled with people, and had to be extended by another, smaller table, to fit everyone. Harry spotted a few people who he recognised from the Quidditch World Cup together with the teachers, namely Ludo Bagman, and Bartemius Crouch. Luckily, there was no problem fitting all the students by the four grand tables. Added to that was the bonus that the students were no longer expected to sit by their House tables, which allowed everyone to sit wherever they wanted. Thus, Harry’s group was once again complete with the three Gryffindor students, as well as Lovegood. 

It was with great expectation and excitement that Harry and his friends gathered around the Slytherin table, their attention on the Goblet of Fire and the Hogwarts Headmaster, who just stepped onto his podium and called for the attention of everyone gathered by raising his arms. 

“Dear students, honored guests, Hogwarts faculty, representatives of the Ministry of Magic” The old wizard began, smiling at them all in turn. “I have the great pleasure to not stall you any longer, and instead begin the announcement of the champions who will compete in the Trimagus Tournament.”

The Great Hall erupted in cheering. 

Professor Dumbledore smiled, then showed towards a door which was located behind the teachers’ table. “Those who are selected as champions are asked to proceed into the room behind that door, you will receive some brief information from Mr. Bagman and Mr. Couch, before you will rejoin the feast. From what I have been told, it is simply some practical information about the upcoming interview with The Daily Prophet which will take place on Monday. Now let us not dwell, the first champion to have been selected is…”

His words appeared to have activated the artifact, as it suddenly flared up, sending a piece of seemingly scorched parchment into the air. The Headmaster, who was an old wizard, did not jump or try to capture the piece of parchment through physical means. Instead, the wizard moved his wand, causing the object to come to him, landing calmly in his hand, like a tired bird. 

The Great Hall appeared to collectively hold their breath. Harry could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, speeding off with a slightly alarming speed. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so invested, but concluded that it had to be because everyone else felt the tension within their bodies as well. 

“Victor Krum, from Durmstrang Institute!” Professor Dumbledore concluded. 

Cheers erupted everywhere, especially from the Durmstrang students. Harry could see Krum looking around, then be pushed forward by a friend. Only then did he seem to realise that he had been selected. A smile formed on his lips, and he rose to his feet, walking towards the door behind the teachers’ table. Karkaroff applauded enthusiastically with a rather smug look on his face, then rose to pat Krum on the back, speaking something into his ear before he allowed Krum to enter the room while the man remained outside. The display was a little odd, but not overtly strange. 

The Goblet of Fire flamed up once more, after Professor Dumbledore awoke it by declaring that the second champion had been chosen. Yet again, the piece of parchment was spit out of the flames, and came to settle within the Headmaster’s hand like a little paper bird. 

“From Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, we have Fleur Delacour!” 

The cheers were not as loud as they had been for Victor Krum as a student from Beauxbatons rose to their feet. The person swept some of their brilliantly blonde hair from their face as they headed towards the door behind the teachers’ table. The person in question was wearing trousers, and they appeared very gender neutral. As Professor Dumbledore had mentioned no pronouns, Harry felt more comfortable addressing the person with neutral pronouns in his head, as to pick a binary choice on random didn’t feel like the correct thing to do. The person disappeared without their Headmistress stopping them to speak to them, unlike what Karkaroff had done to Krum. 

“Finally, the last champion, representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is…” 

Another, final piece of parchment rose from the flames, yet again coming over to Professor Dumbledore to nest in his hand. He lifted the piece of parchment, then read out loud:

“Cedric Diggory!” 

The Great Hall exploded into cheers once more, not quite as loud as for Krum, but louder than for Delacour, as most Hogwarts students within the Hall at least had a connection to the champion of their own school, compared to Delacour who was only known by their own school, and Krum, whom almost everyone knew. It was no wonder their applause varied so much in strength. 

Professor Dumbledore asked the students to extend an applause to all the champions as Diggory headed for the door, joining in on the final applause himself, before he spoke up once more. “Congratulations, champions. Now, with all the champions selected-” 

He didn’t get any further, as the Goblet of Fire flamed up one last time, sending a stay piece of parchment into the air, before it slowly fluttered towards the ground in front of the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall, as if it was mocking them all into silence. Professor Dumbledore slowly approached it where it had fallen, and picked it up to look upon the name written on it. Nobody even dared whisper as the old wizard raised his head, his gaze tracing the Slytherin table until they came to rest on Harry. Even from so far away, Harry could see the concern and worry within his eyes. 

“Harry Potter.” 

The Headmaster’s whisper was caught by someone, then whispered to the person next to them. Then on to another. The name spread in different directions, rising in volume until the entirety of the Great Hall seemed to be repeating it. The name of the person who didn’t really exist, the name of the illusive Harry Potter who had plagued Harry Lupin’s existence since he was a child. 

It felt like it had been so long, while it hadn’t really. He hadn't had to be associated with Potter for quite some time.

Harry didn’t immediately react or respond to the stranger’s name, but remained confused for a few moments, looking around at his friends. His mind caught on when he saw the terrified look on Hermione’s face from opposite of him at the table. Then, the force of the ever elusive but ever so powerful Harry Potter, the boy who didn’t exist, hit him with full force. It was him. It was his name which had been placed in a powerful magical artifact creating a binding contract to a dangerous tournament. Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe, and when Draco addressed him, worriedly grabbing onto his arm, he could see the teenager's lips move while not hearing a single word. 

All of his friends seemed to have come to the same understanding as him at various speeds, but most of them faster than Harry himself. Somebody had put his name in the cup. Somebody wanted to force him into the magical tournament. 

Professor Dumbledore seemed at a slight loss of what to do, but as the whispers turned into shouts, he made the choice of making certain that Harry was removed from the Great Hall as swiftly as possible so as to not have to face the cascade of words and accusations which were being thrown at him from all around the grand room. “Mr. Lupin, would you be so kind as to head to the room over there? Something must have gone wrong with the selection process, I ask everyone present to remain calm and to exercise respect while this unexpected occurrence is dealt with.” 

Later, Harry would suspect that the Headmaster might have cast some manner of spell on him, as he was up and halfway through the Great Hall before he had even had the chance to suspect that his legs wouldn’t carry him like they should. It might not have been the case, he might just have actually heard the man and somehow managed to run away when the opportunity had presented itself. He kept his head lowered, avoiding any and all gazes which were aimed towards him. Once he got to the back door, he more or less yanked it open and escaped inside the door, tears already threatening to roll down his cheeks as he got the door shut. 

Behind the door was a small room, which appeared to once have been a part of the banquet hall, but which had now become little more than a storage room for all things belonging to the Great Hall. The first thing Harry saw upon entering was the three selected champions, standing in a sort of semi circle. They appeared to have been chatting about something, Krum’s heavy accent was easy to distinguish from the French accent which was Delacour’s. Diggory’s familiar English accent was easy to distinguish as well, as it seemed so very common and boring next to the two far more foreign accents. They all stopped speaking when they spotted Harry. 

Delacour was the first to speak. “Yes? Has something gone wrong? Are you calling us back again?” 

“N-nnn…” Harry tried to speak but then shook his head. He felt like he was about to faint. 

“What did he say?” Krum looked to Delacour as they shrugged in response. 

Diggory realised that something was wrong, not only with the whole situation, but with Harry as well. He signalled for the other two to be silent, before approaching Harry and rather forcefully pulled him over to a chair so that he could sit down. “You just breathe, okay?” 

Harry nodded in response. 

“What did he say?” Krum asked Delacour once more, who simply relayed Diggory’s words to him with slight annoyance in their voice. 

Before anything else could happen between them, the door flew open and a collection of people entered, with Professor Dumbledore first, followed by Professor Snape, Mr. Moody, Headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, as well as Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch. Professor Snape wasted no time in hurrying over to Harry, taking Diggory’s place by his side. 

“That little brat sneaked his name into the Goblet!” Karkaroff wasted no time in pointing towards Harry, accusing him right away. 

“Igor, the boy’s name is Lupin in all but some legal documents.” Professor Dumbledore politely silenced the man’s first argument with a stern look, before he carefully patted Harry on the shoulder. “He would under no circumstances present himself as Harry Potter, he does not bear any guilt in the appearance of his name in the Goblet of Fire.” 

Harry sat numbly in the chair. He was trying to not listen to the words being exchanged, instead simply focusing on Professor Snape’s hand on his shoulder. The touch of someone familiar was helping him orient himself, and made him feel safer in the situation.

“A clever ploy, to make certain none would suspect him!” Karkaroff was still angry, his face beginning to turn red as he spoke, his finger still pointing towards Harry. 

“Igor, if Albus says that the boy wouldn’t do it, then he is telling the truth.” The room was almost too small for Madame Maxime, and yet she remained dignified where she stood with her knees slightly bent. “I am more interested in Albus’ reasoning as to why the name appeared in the first place.” 

“Well, that one is easy.” Moody huffed. Until then, he had remained in the shadows, staying as far away from everyone as possible, while also placing himself so that his back was protected by a strong looking stone wall. He rested heavily against his walking stick, his brown eye locked on Karkaroff, while his blue eye wandered the room, almost avoiding looking at anyone altogether. “Someone must have placed his name within the Goblet, likely using a powerful hex to make it think that four schools were competing, rather than three, or maybe changed the number of contestants.” 

“Ah!” Karkaroff exclaimed. “This is a plot of Hogwarts to get more than one champion and gain glory it is undeserving of! One of you teachers at Hogwarts must have smuggled his name into the Goblet! All for eternal glory.”

Nobody, not even his own student, believed that statement to hold any weight whatsoever. Krum even bit his lower lip and looked to the side, seemingly embarrassed over the almost childish outburst of his Headmaster’s. 

“How Mr. Lupin’s name ended up in the Goblet of Fire isn’t important,” Professor Snape spoke up, sternly calling everyone’s attention back to what really mattered. “What is important is to get this child out of the Trimagus Tournament, rather than discuss how he ended up in it.” 

“Indeed. Severus is right. Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch, what does the rules say?” Professor Dumbledore turned towards the two representatives of the Ministry of Magic, a troubled frown curving his eyebrows into small half-moons above his brilliant eyes. 

“Well… The problem isn't really the rules, it is the fact that his name was even entered in the first place…” Mr. Bagman shifted from foot to foot, nervously avoiding everyone’s gaze as he almost danced in front of them. “You see, the Goblet of Fire is akin to a magical contract, it's a rather ancient form of magic, entering the name into it is akin to sealing the contract. The champions sign that they will use all of their powers and capabilities to win in the name of their school. You see, a champion cannot not compete, once they have been chosen. If somebody entered the boy's name for him, it would still be valid, as they would likely convey a clear image within their mind, or maybe use a possession of the child to make the spell recognise him.” 

Harry felt like he was about to faint, and he reached up to cling to Professor Snape’s arm, feeling like he was about to fall over. 

“However!” Mr. Bagman hurriedly continued to speak. “Despite the boy’s legal name, there is hope, if he really views himself as Harry… something, rather than Potter. Just as how a normal contract isn’t valid if someone else signs it, the fact that his mentally perceived name is so very different from the name on the contract means that he might not be as affected by this magical contract as the other contestants. That is to say, through a loophole, Mr. Not-Potter might not be as bound to the tournament as the rest of the champions. Hopefully.” 

“Can’t he be excused from it altogether?” Professor Snape continued to inquire as a slightly upset frown began to form on his face. “The judges and the Headmasters and Headmistress can all confirm that the boy does not want to be in the tournament, thus he should be excused.” 

“That is not how the magic which formed the contract works…” Mr. Bagman carefully objected. 

Mr. Crouch, who appeared as if he swallowed a sour lemon spoke next “he can only be disqualified if he attacks another champion during one of the trials. There is no other way to disqualify a person chosen by the Goblet of Fire. Not to mention that if Mr. Lupin is disqualified, it would, at worst, disqualify Hogwarts from competing in the tournament altogether.” 

“The man is right.” Mr. Moody agreed, licking his lips in a nervous, twitchy gesture. He was seemingly avoiding looking at the man, instead staring at the floor, rather than anyone in the room. Harry could hear that the man’s breathing was hard and strained. In some ways, Mr. Moody appeared all the more stressed to be in this room that Harry was. 

Harry wasn’t the only one who noticed his discomfort. Karkaroff spoke up, sending a glare towards Moody. “How are you doing over there, Mad-Eye? Age finally catching up to you? You seem nervous.”

The former Auror scoffed, then glared at the man with black, hateful eyes. “No, Karkaroff, just displeased to be stuck in the same room as two former Death Eaters, who have gone unpunished for their crimes.” 

“What you call ‘former Death Eaters,’ most call ‘heroes’ these days, as we did the right thing and helped bring about you-know-whose end!” Karkaroff bit back. 

“You fancy yourself a Hero these days, do you?” 

If Mr. Moody was about to say something more, he wasn’t allowed to by Professor Dumbledore, who silenced them both with a stern stare. 

“So we have no other choice than to have Mr. Lupin compete in the Trimagus Tournament…?” The Headmaster of Hogwarts looked towards Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, seeking answers. 

Yet Karkaroff had found a final problem to hone in on, and he once more spoke up. “Lupin? Is that not the name of that werewolf who was exposed in your newspapers earlier this year? You’d have the son of a werewolf dishonor this tournament by being allowed to compete?” 

Harry couldn’t help but let a sob escape his lips. He was already completely mentally exhausted from all the things which were happening around him. To have the loud, intrusive man who was Karkaroff yell about his dad in a way which suggested that Remus, and subsequently Harry, were dirty or undeserving of participating in anything without dishonoring that something, was enough to make Harry’s tears finally escape from his attempted hold on them. 

“Igor. The man you speak of happens to be my partner.” Severus spoke up, his voice was so cold, so chillingly calm and direct that his words became like a knife, cutting through Karkaroff’s objection with a sharpness that was terrifying to face, judging by Karkaroff’s reaction. “I will not allow you to speak ill of him, or of his son. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” 

The Headmaster of Durmstrang nodded, suddenly becoming very busy with his own shoes. 

“Igor, it does not matter what you personally think of the person’s lineage. The Goblet of Fire has elected him, your words have no power here.” Madame Maxime stated, placing her hands on her hips as she looked down upon the much smaller man. 

“Yes!” Delacour spoke up as well, raising their voice to make certain that they were heard. “If what you are saying is true, then I, as a blood relative to a Veela, have less right to participate in this tournament than the adoptive son of a werewolf.” 

By now, Karkaroff had shrunk to quite the small size, avoiding everyone’s disapproving gazes which were being aimed towards him. He muttered what sounded like an apology, but as he didn’t aim it towards anyone, it ended up being a little unclear to who he apologised. 

Professor Dumbledore looked towards Harry, who was still hiding his face in his hands, and then looked around towards his fellow adults. “Everyone, I propose that we leave the champions here for a few moments to discuss between ourselves about the next course of action. Mr. Lupin deserves a chance to catch his breath and Madame Maxime should not be kept in such a confiding space. Please, come with me. Severus, I will need you with us, if you are able?” 

Professor Snape looked towards Diggory, who nodded towards him as he understood what the look was meant to communicate. 

“I will look after Mr. Lupin, Professor.” The older Hufflepuff student swore. 

It was enough for Professor Snape to leave Harry in his capable hands, before he followed the rest of the adults outside through another door, which brought them to an empty corridor where they could speak without stressing Harry out further. Harry was very thankful for the fact that he wouldn’t need to listen to them anymore, and simply allow himself to concentrate on not breaking apart. Harry tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying hard to regain control over himself. Thus, he didn’t really hear what the other champions said when they began to speak between themselves. It was about him, but Harry didn’t care to know what they said. 

The conversation, which Harry did not pay attention to, went accordingly; 

“That is Harry Potter?” Delacour questioned, staring at Diggory as if he was at fault for Harry Potter being an inconspicuous mage, who was in fact unable to even stand up for the moment since his legs were shaking so much.  

“...Technically…” Diggory agreed with them. “It’s generally realised by anyone who knows him that Harry Potter is some icon, not a real person. He is Harry Lupin, Harry Potter is a legend.” 

“No, no but… He is just… ugh… what is word… Un bébé! Not a strong, capable wizard to best the Dark Lord. He is not but a bébé! We have all been taught that he was some… some unstoppable magic force, some great mage, not… not… so small!” They showed a small space between their index finger and thumb to properly communicate just how small they thought the legendary Harry Potter was. 

“Well…” Diggory hesitated. “He sort of killed the Dark Lord when he was a baby. A real béb- uh, baby… It’s a very commonly known and realised fact here in Britain.” 

Krum raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Harry. In particular, he was studying Harry’s non-athletic build and weak arms. “Do you actually believe that to be the truth? That a baby killed the Dark Lord?” 

Diggory’s cheeks turned red as he licked his lips, then shrugged. “Magic works in mysterious ways?” He concluded.

“Not so mysterious that a bébé can kill a Dark Lord.” Delacour objected. 

“The right word is ‘baby.’” Krum informed them. 

“Yes, I realised. I’m nicknameing him Bébé to hide my embarrassment for forgetting such a simple word.” They huffed at the world renowned Quidditch player in return, correcting some imaginary imperfection about their own hair.

Krum nodded. “Makes sense. Bébe it is.” 

“‘Nicknameing’ isn’t really a real word… But it works.” Diggory smiled weakly as he began to correct the other champion, but then thought better of it. 

“Is he any good?” Krum nodded towards Harry, still asking Diggory for answers, rather than aiming his questions towards Harry himself. 

“Pardon?” Diggory blinked at the Quidditch player in return. 

“He looks weak, if he isn’t any good with magic, then it stands to reason that this whole farce is an elaborate assassination attempt.” Krum continued. 

Delacour hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Not in front of Bébé! He is already upset, don’t scare him more.” 

“Oh yeah…” Krum didn’t even blink from being lightly tapped. “My bad. Sorry.” 

“His father is a teacher, but I’ve never really seen him perform all that outstandingly. He casts a pretty powerful patronus I hear, but other than that, I always assumed him to be more of an academic type person than action oriented.” Diggory searched his memory for anything else which was noteworthy about Harry Lupin. “He can speak Parseltongue, once saved a student from Hufflepuff from being bitten by a snake.” 

“Is his father really a werewolf?” Krum asked. “Or are people just confusing his father with someone else?”

“No, Professor Lupin truly is a werewolf.” Diggory confirmed. 

“I see.” Krum nodded, seemingly completely unbothered by the answer. “I thought it was better to know that not. Guess it feels slightly good that Mr. Karkaroff wasn’t just throwing things at him without any basis in fact, even though he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

Delacour snorted. “For a teacher to discriminate against anyone based on blood lineage is wrong.” They concluded, rather forcefully. 

“It especially shouldn’t be done in front of other students and teachers. Good thing that Professor Snape was able to deescalate the situation so smoothly.” Diggory concluded, causing the other two champions to agree with him by means of nodding along with his statement. “Besides,” Diggory added. “It might have been slightly uncomfortable to find out that Professor Lupin was a werewolf at the time, but he truly was one of the best teachers we’ve ever had in Defense against the Dark Arts.”

“Defense…? Do you not mean simply Dark Arts?” Krum asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, no, they do not teach Dark Arts in Britain.” Delacour informed him, shaking their head. They had a very theatrical way of speaking, often utilising their body to communicate what they were saying. 

Krum frowned. In contrast to Delacour, he wasn’t very animated at all, only ever changing the position of his eyebrows slightly to communicate his emotions to the world. “Ah, yes. It’s a little hard to remember. The whole concept is a little strange. Like being taught how to treat a wound without ever seeing a real wound." 

Diggory shrugged. “A little bit of a clash brought about by our cultural exchange, I imagine.” He smiled pleasantly at the Quidditch player, clearly not finding his conclusion faulty or appalling. “Your metaphor does make a lot of sense.” 

Before they had the chance to speak more about the subject, the teachers returned. Professor Snape wasted little time in returning to Harry’s side, while Mr. Moody remained by the door while the rest of the adults returned to the center. 

Mr. Bagman began to speak. “It has been decided by the judges as well as the Headmasters and Headmistress of the three completing schools that Mr. Harry Lupin must attend each of the trials as the magical contract will likely bind him and compel him to at the very least be present and participate, but he will be given extra information about each task as well as mental and magical support throughout the entirety of the Trimagus Tournament so that he may complete all the trials in a safe manner, which should allow no harm to come to his person, be it mental or physical.” He stopped to make sure that everyone was following him before he continued. “Thus, Mr. Lupin shall not attempt to win any of the trials, but instead simply make it through them without causing permanent harm to his person and mind, as he is far too young to be expected to compete in such a dangerous tournament. All judges, and every teacher who has the ability to assist him, will lend him their assistance to assure that these requirements are met.”  

“Further,” Mr. Crouch continued, looking tired and stressed, but nonetheless collected. “We will announce these matters to the world through the assistance of The Daily Prophet , making certain that the public learns of this mistake, and knows the length that everyone involved will go through to assure the safety of the minor who was caught up in this demanding tournament.” 

Nobody had any objections. Diggory, Delacour and Krum all nodded, agreeing that Harry had to be kept safe from the tournament which he was in no way qualified to participate in, yet possibly forced to participate in by the means of a powerful binding spell. Not to mention that nobody in the room believed that Harry Lupin had chosen to place his name into the Goblet of Fire, not even Karkaroff once he had calmed down a little. The three actual champions even believed that Harry didn’t even have the required abilities to be able to compete in the tournament first place, which in turn lead them to believe that the person who wanted to, as Krum placed it, assassinate Harry, had gone so far as to make certain that the Goblet of Fire thought Harry worthy when he was not. 

“As long as your excuses don't take away from the actual tournament…” Karkaroff concluded. 

“They will not.” Mr. Bagman assured him with a smile which assured nobody. 

“Then my next statement to the champions goes as follows;” Mr. Crouch began to speak. “First Task will be taking place on 24 November and the champions have until then to figure out what the first task is and to best prepare for it. You will learn the details of the Second Task after completing the First Task. Further, you are all exempt from the end of year exams due to the Trimagus Tournament, and will more than likely have to retake this year, as you are already aware of. I will warn you now that the first task involves facing a larger magical creature, so at the very least, you should master some protection spells so that you are all at the very least safe. Tomorrow, Monday at 10 in the morning, you are to gather here in the Great Hall for the mandatory wand examination, press coverage, and the rest. It would be good if you looked your best, but it is of course not mandatory. You are not required to attend any classes tomorrow, as your day will be rather busy.” Mr. Crouch concluded. 

Finally, the room was being emptied of people, leaving Harry and Professor Snape alone. Harry slowly raised his head as the man knelt before him. Whatever the Potions Master had planned on doing next was quickly interrupted by Harry’s next action, namely to throw himself into the man’s arms, breaking down utterly against his chest as he clung to him. Of what little words Harry managed to express, it was easy to understand that he didn’t want to compete in the Trimagus Tournament, and that he was terrified and hurt by having to do so either way. His words quickly became nothing more than sobs and wails. 

Professor Snape accepted Harry into his arms, carefully stroking the teenage boy over his head and back while he allowed him to cry against his chest, sparing not even a stray thought about his own appearance or the mess Harry’s breakdown would cause upon his clothing. He assured the crying son of a werewolf that he would bring Remus to him first thing in the morning, and that his dad would be there for him when he woke up. 

It took a long time before Harry had calmed down enough to be even remotely capable of returning to the Slytherin common room and his own dormitory, but in the time it took for him to calm down, the man who was his dad’s lover remained with him during it all, supporting him through it. Just like Severus Snape had done so many years ago when Remus Lupin had broken down upon his shoulder as a young teenager, equally crushed by the world, and equally needing the help of someone who might even be considered a friend. 

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Harry didn’t remember a lot of the evening. He was assisted by Professor Snape, who helped him return to the Slytherin common room, and then to his dormitory. Harry remembered Draco being with him, as well as Nott, Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson. He remembered trying to tell the story, but mostly ending up crying against Draco’s chest over and over, until he simply fell asleep from exhaustion. 

The beginning of the next day wasn’t any more fun. Harry stayed in the shower for what felt like hours, hiding in a curled up position against the wall, while the water rushed over him. Draco came to check on him every now and then, but mostly let him be, he didn’t try and force Harry to come outside. 

When he did exit the shower, Draco was there to help him get ready for the day, which meant that he was effectively skipping school to attend to Harry. Normally, such a thing would make him feel bad, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care for the moment. 

It appeared that Harry had somehow managed to tell Draco about the activities which he was expected to perform that day, as his socially and politically aware friend took the time to help him get his hair in some resemblance of order, then lent him an expensive feeling shirt and an even more expensive looking bolo tie, which had a decoration of a green gem which was held in place by a silver dragon resembling a snake. He had no trousers which would fit Harry, but with some socks, they, mostly Draco, managed to lend Harry a pair of shoes as well. Draco asked if Harry would allow him to put some makeup on him, mostly to make him appear less broken up when he was interviewed by a representative from The Daily Prophet. Harry agreed, if only for his own comfort in not wanting the entire world to know that he had been crying for hours the day prior.  

It was somewhat uncomfortable to be dressed up like it, especially when Harry was feeling drained and plain bad, but upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little excited, as he found himself to look rather handsome. Draco had mostly layered dark colors on dark colors, which allowed Harry further comfort in not being too far out of his general comfort zone. The dark dress shirt even had reasonable sleeves, and not giant bell sleeves which was the preferred shape of Draco’s not-necessarily-for-everyday-school-purposes wardrobe. 

It was a small relief, but it made him feel just a little better, at the very least. Draco seemed satisfied with the result as well. He tried to have Harry accept a pair of cufflinks to go with his outfit, but Harry politely declined. It was one thing having an expensive bolo tie, which was rather secure around his neck, but to have a pair of expensive cufflinks which might fall off at any time was an entirely different matter. 

It took a little longer for them to leave the Slytherin common room and dormitories, as Harry was struggling to be able to exit his safe haven. However, the fact that they were heading to Professor Snape’s office was another small relief. That relief became immensely bigger when the door to said office was opened to reveal Remus and Snuffles inside of it, as well as an aroma of chocolate. Someone of the three men, technically two men and a dog, had realised that Harry likely hadn’t eaten breakfast that day, so they had arranged for breakfast to be sent to Professor Snape’s office. There was enough for both Harry and Draco, as none of the adults had expected Harry to come alone. 

“Harry…” Remus was by his son’s side in seconds, wrapping him into his arms and holding him tight enough for Harry to start crying once more as he clung to his dad. 

Snuffles barked and ran up to Harry as well, then struggled with what action to perform, only to whimper and returned to the space where he had started, looking slightly disappointed in himself. The disappointment seemed to instantly disappear once Draco passed the dog and took a moment to give him a few pets, in greeting his distant dog-cousin.

“Mr. Malfoy, I trust that you will return to your classes after Mr. Lupin is called away for his Trimagus Tournament duties.” Professor Snape addressed Draco as a chair turned to invite the blonde wizard to be seated. “Although I do not encourage you skipping classes, I will nonetheless reward you with ten points for your concern for your fellow classmate. Ten points to Slytherin.” 

Draco shrugged as he sat down, appearing passively unimpressed with his superficial rewarded points. “Naturally. Mental health goes above the need to perform.” He concluded as he reached for a cup of tea which had just pushed itself within his grasp.

Snuffles barked in support of that statement. 

Professor Snape turned towards Harry and Remus, who were still remaining by the now closed door. Harry had stopped crying, but he remained clinging to his dad, truly unable to figure out any other action than to hold on to him. “Remus, you should truly persuade your son to eat something before he attends the wand weighing ceremony.” 

“Oh, yes… Of course…” Remus led Harry towards the chair which had been waiting for him all this time, and showed for him to sit down. 

Harry let himself be led, then thankfully reached for the first thing he saw, and began to eat it. It happened to be a piece of bread with pumpkin jam, which was sweet enough to make Harry feel happier with just the first bite. The adults, dog, and his best friend watched him eat, yet Harry wasn’t bothered by their glances, as he only had eyes for his breakfast. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I don’t recognise Harry’s clothes, did you lend them to him?” Remus engaged in small talk as his son ate. 

“I did indeed.” Draco confirmed, looking proud over himself. “I would have wanted to dress him up a little more, but I know that it is not what Harry wants, so I made certain to choose a shirt which would suit his tastes.”  

Harry looked up from his breakfast. “Thank you.” 

“Think nothing of it.” Draco smiled at him. 

Even through his misery, Harry couldn’t help but think that Draco had the most pleasant smile there had ever been. It didn’t make him overwhelmingly happy or confident, but it made Harry feel appreciation for his friend, which helped him feel slightly less miserable. 

“Harry, do you… feel comfortable with today?” Remus carefully spoke up, looking at his child with hints of worry showing in his eyes and upon his face. “If you do not, you don’t have to participate. This is nothing you chose, and you have no obligation to attend any of these… not mandatory activities. I’m certain Mr. Ollivander would understand, and perform the wand checking ceremony on your wand without the need for you to go through the photoshoot and the interview and all that.” 

Harry thought about it, sinking into a deep silence as he turned all of the information over in his head. It was an easy solution to just run away from it all, to hide in bed, or in the shower, or in Professor Snape’s office. He could run, but there might be consequences afterwards. Mr. Crouch had spoken about using the newspaper to help spread the truth behind the incident with the Goblet of Fire and the fourth champion. If he did not participate, he would have no power over what was said, and that could lead to the possibility of, well, anything being said on his behalf. However, if he used the interview to his own advantage, he could get his own story out there, in a major newspaper, for everyone to read. That seemed far better than letting anyone control his words without his input. Not to mention that it was probably better to have his wand checked alongside the others, as to not trouble Mr. Ollivander. 

It seemed all the more useful to take charge of the situation, and join in with the other champions, rather to allow this whole thing to spiral out of his hands. Harry took a deep breath, looking up at his dad, giving him a careful smile. “I will do it. All I need to do is make certain that people know the truth, and then I can go back to being Harry Lupin, instead of being forced to be Harry Potter.” He spoke the name as if it was the name of a stranger, for it very much was. 

Remus carefully returned the smile, then bent down and hugged his son once more. “You’re not alone, Harry. Everyone around you will make sure that you come out of this safely.” 

Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around his very tall dad, and hugged him back. He knew that his dad was right. He only needed to do this one last thing, and then the adults around him would help him with the rest. Harry dared to believe that things might be alright. 

The photography studio was a little room which had been set up for the sole purpose of photographing the champions. It had everything which Harry associated with picture day, and he immediately felt uncomfortable with himself as he knew that he was about to be put up on display and posed in ways to make him appear as part of a set. Normally, he had the comfort of being with people his own age during picture day, but now, he was paired with three almost adults, who were all far more handsome than Harry felt himself to be. 

Krum was dressed in a very similar way to how Karkaroff generally dressed, his already big frame being made bigger with layers of expensive looking fur. His color palette was a calm wine red combined with black and dark furs. He appeared calm and disinterested. Harry got the feeling that he would have been equally disinterested and calm had he been dressed is nothing at all. Harry admired his attitude, he wished that he could adapt some of it. 

Diggory was dressed sort of similarly to Harry, but in a way that he had grabbed whatever he had found in his wardrobe which appeared fancy enough for a photoshoot. It seemed that, tragically, Diggory had no one like Draco to help him with his appearance. Nonetheless, the hair looked good. He truly didn’t look that different from the previous day he still wore his House colors, but his hair had been styled. His appearance made Harry wonder if he himself appeared dressed up. Compared to Krum’s attire, surely both Harry and Diggory appeared lackluster in comparison? 

Then there was Delacour, who made everyone else appear as if they were homeless people who hadn’t even bothered to wash their faces before entering the makeshift photo studio. Harry’s first impression of them was that they looked like a prince. Their pale hair had been pleasantly curled to fall from their shoulders in soft waves, making their comparatively slightly smaller head appear a little bigger. Their makeup made their cheeks a little redder, their cheekbones a little higher, and their lips a slight red which would have looked natural had Harry not know what their face looked like without the slight exaggeration of the makeup. Their clothing consisted of tight, white trousers which left little to imagination, high brown boots with intricate leather workings. The top piece jacket was a highly elaborate piece in light blue colors with white details. The jacket was cinched at the waist, making the padded shoulders appear far larger. Across that waist was a beautiful leather belt which matched their shoes, into which their pale wand had been safety secured. Upon their hands, they wore a set of white, decorated gloves which looked to be made out of a very soft fabric. 

Harry really hoped that he wouldn’t have to stand next to them in the photo, as they were simply that well dressed while he was not. 

The photographer, a man with a badge which said ‘Press’ upon it, began to gather them together for the photograph. “If the lady will sit down on the chair and the men gather behind her, that should do the trick.” He said, while peering through his camera at the chair which had been arranged for the photo. 

“What did he say?” Krum turned towards Diggory, asking with a small frown. 

“He said that the lady should come over and sit in the chair.” Diggory shrugged. “Do you think he means me?” 

“Surely, the photographer is confused.” Delacour stated with a theatrical sigh. “As there are no women present here, and even if there were, it would seem rather patronising and unprofessional to have only the woman sit.” 

“Very unprofessional.” Krum agreed, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“Very.” Harry nodded. 

The photographer looked up, peering at Delacour. He then licked his lips and nodded to himself. “You are correct, that was very unprofessional of me. I did not pay attention. I apologise.” 

Diggory shrugged. “Apology accepted. I am not permanently offended.” Rather than leaving Delacour to have to defend themselves in any way, Diggory pretended that the careless comment to have been made about him. Someone else might not have appreciated the gesture, but Delacour seemed to approve of it. 

“Perhaps Bébé should sit?” Delacour commented. “Since he is the smallest.” 

Harry looked around to confirm that he was ‘Bébé.’ He had no idea where the name had come from, but he surrendered to the nickname without question. It didn’t sound like it was an insult, and he really didn’t have the energy to care about what people called him. As long as it wasn’t ‘Potter.’ 

“Should I really?” Harry looked up at the taller champions. “I’m not really a champion, why should I get to be in the front? That seems a little… trophy-like to me…?” 

Diggory, Krum and Delacour looked at one another, all of them considering his words. 

“Then let's just take more than one photo.” Diggory concluded as he looked over towards the photographer. “One with the three of us for the front page, and then another of the four of us for the inside of the paper.” 

“Good idea.” Delacour nodded, then gently moved to guide Harry towards the chair in the middle of the photo studio. “Stretch your back up, lean your head a little forward, and for all you do, don’t curl together. You will look great.” They promised the words as they let go of him to take a position to the right of Harry’s chair. Diggory accepted his position in the middle, while Krum came to stand to the left of Harry. None of the champions actually stood by Harry’s chair as much as they stood behind it. 

The photographer guided the shoot, making sure to take pictures of them all together, then without Harry, only to then photograph each of the champions alone. Harry politely declined to have a photo taken of him alone, as he didn’t trust that the photography wouldn’t end up somewhere he didn’t want it. If he wanted a picture of himself, he would ask Colin Creevy to take it for him, as that would mean that he didn’t surrender his ownership of his own picture to a major newspaper. Harry wasn’t a paranoid person, but he wasn’t trusting enough to believe that The Daily Prophet would not use ‘Harry Potter’s’ photograph for something he hadn’t agreed to. The newspaper was not very trustworthy to Harry, seeing what it had published about his dad that very same year, costing the man his dream job in the process.  

Afterwards, the weighing of the wands ceremony took place. This time, Headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, as well as Diggory’s father, Amos Diggory, and Harry’s dad were present alongside their wards and sons. 

Remus initially appeared to be very uncomfortable, but Madame Maxime took up position next to him, and made certain that anyone who addressed the werewolf did so with proper respect, else face her. Madame Maxime was evidently a half giant, and while she did not explicitly make this fact known, she was nonetheless intent on displaying her position in regards to the fact that blood lineage had no practical effect on magic abilities. Thus, the half giant made a point to assure that the werewolf was not hounded by the press, or discriminated against by anyone else in the room. A headmistress usually made a very compelling case for respect, but when she was as large of a figure as Madame Maxime, people had little choice but to listen to her. 

The weighing of the wands ceremony was surprisingly simple. Mr. Ollivander greeted Harry and Diggory, whom he apparently remembered since he had sold them their wands, and then proceeded to have them all cast a simple spell each. After this, he looked over each of the wands, and deemed them all worthy of use in the Trimagus Tournament. He then proceeded to inform them all of what respective oils they should use to improve the capabilities of their wands and stop them from breaking after long term use. Mr. Ollivander commended Diggory for being the best out of them when it came to taking care of his wand, but other than that, the ceremony wasn’t too noteworthy and concluded rather quickly. 

Following the ceremony came the, to Harry, much dreaded interview with The Daily Prophet. It consisted of two parts, or rather, five parts, if one was to be technical. Firstly, Mr. Crouch spoke for the three schools, and the Ministry of Magic, explaining and addressing how four champions had come to attend the Trimagus Tournament rather than the expected, traditional number of three. A few journalists had arrived to conduct the interviews, accompanying them were their photographers, which made for a total of six additional people.

There were quite a number of questions aimed towards Mr. Crouch from the journalists, but they primarily came from a woman with blonde, curled hair and a pair of red glasses. Her red painted nails matched her glasses in a way which made her look colorful, but also put together. She was dressed in green robes, which had a thick fur collar as well as fur by the end of the sleeves. Next to her hovered a roll of parchment and a quill in a poisonous green color. Somehow, her parchment had far more words written on it than any other journalists’, judging by how much of the roll she had already used up. 

The separate first part of the interview concluded, and the champions were divided up to conduct separate interviews with the journalists. Harry assumed that he was going to have to wait until last, but to his surprise, the woman with the red glasses and nails approached him, and quickly requested his time for an interview with her. Harry found that there was something rather artificial about her smile, and he was somewhat unsettled by the way the green quill was still writing on the parchment despite him having said nothing to the journalist yet. 

“S-sure…?” Harry heard himself more or less squeak out a response. 

“Excellent, Mr. Potter!” She grabbed a hold of him, and pulled him towards the other end of the room inside which they were in, likely to avoid having to shout over the other voices which were beginning to request interviews with the champions. 

Harry didn’t like her touching him at all, but out of fear of appearing like a prude in front of a journalist, he allowed himself to be pulled away by her. However, he made sure to glance towards his dad, assuring himself of the fact that Remus was there and would come to help him if he needed it. His dad appeared bothered by the whole situation, but Harry signalled to him that he was fine. Remus didn’t appear convinced, but he let Harry be, respecting his son’s choice. 

“Well, Mr. Potter!” The woman all but cheered as she seated herself in front of Harry, leaning forward to peer at him with a gaze which made Harry feel like he was her prey and that she planned on eating him. “The readers of The Daily Prophet have long desired to meet you, tell our readers all about yourself! How long have you known that you would be in the Trimagus Tournament? How did you convince a teacher to sneak your name in for you? How did-”

“Excuse me.” Harry stated very firmly, as she shattered all his patience and willingness to be pleasant to this woman the more she spoke. “My name is Lupin. Harry Lupin, not Potter. You are making some very heavy statements right there, none of which are true. Not to mention that-”

She cut him off by laughing at him. Harry stared at her in horror, completely unable to comprehend that someone had just laughed at his defense for himself. It made him feel horrible to know that someone would listen to the correction of his name and find it worthy of being laughed at. As if his identity and his claim to his own identity was just a joke in the eyes of this adult. 

“You don’t want to be cited as Harry Lupin.” She told Harry in an almost sugary sweet voice, as if Harry was but a stupid child. “Everyone will mix you together with that werewolf we exposed last year, you don’t want to be associated with a werewolf, now do you, Harry?” 

Harry had never before felt inclined to violence, but when he heard this stranger belittle him, his name, and his identity, to only then claim his dad to be nothing but ‘an exposed werewolf,’ he felt a wave of rage wash over him. Harry got to his feet, staring down at the journalist with such disgust which he had never before displayed. “That’s Lupin to you, ma’m. And this interview is over. I have no intentions of speaking to you or anyone else from your Daily Prophet. Excuse me.” He spoke every word as if it was a curse which he spit at her, yet took excruciating care in making his words polite enough that they couldn’t easily be used against him. 

She objected, but Harry had already turned away from her and her photographer, making his way towards his dad. He was very thankful that she let him go, instead of attempting to stop him. Harry collided with his dad in a hug, clinging to him yet again. Remus stroke over his son’s head, allowing Harry to remain where he was. He didn’t say anything, simply wordlessly assisted his son with his presence. Next to them, Madame Maxime stepped forward, positioning herself so that her giant frame shielded Harry from view from the unpleasant woman’s photographer, who had turned his camera to follow Harry as he left them. As he noticed that the Headmistress of Beauxbatons had covered the object of his interest up, he lowered the camera once more. It didn’t take long for the duo to go pick up Diggory for an interview instead, but anyone looking at them could tell that they weren’t satisfied with the way things had unfolded. 

Remus thanked Madame Maxime, but she simply smiled at him, shaking her head. She didn’t answer in words, but her body language communicated that she did not feel the need to be celebrated for doing the right thing. At first, she avoided speaking as she noticed that Harry appeared to be approaching an sensory overload, and she wanted to avoid triggering it for him. 

However, a few minutes later, after she concluded that Harry was no longer needed for anything in the room, the woman encouraged Remus and Harry to leave altogether so that the teenage boy could get some rest. She had further concluded, based on evidence, that Remus was Professor Snape’s partner, and therefore assumed, not incorrectly, that he could find a calm place for Harry to rest. Remus thanked her once more, then brought Harry with him to Professor Snape’s office, where Snuffles was waiting for them. Remus transfigured a chair into a comfortable armchair for Harry, and let the boy sit down to simply rest. Snuffles curled together by Harry’s feet, wagging his tail as he looked up upon the son of a werewolf. 

Harry hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but after a few moments, he was completely knocked out, snoring softly as he sank deep into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t like this, Remus.” Sirius Black sat down on top of Snape’s desk, crossing his legs as he stared at his old friend with a stubborn look upon his face. “I don’t like this at all.” He enforced when the werewolf didn’t even turn to look at him. 

“Sirius, turn back again, please.” Remus rubbed his forehead as he turned towards him, the tired look on his face made him appear older. 

Sirius stubbornly stared back at him, refusing to move from on top of the slightly clustered but neatly arranged desk.

He was dressed in a combination of Remus’ and Harry’s old clothes, his upper body was a little too big for Harry’s shirts, and far too small for Remus’ shirts; his legs too long for Harry’s trousers, and still too short for anything Remus’ could ever have fit into. He had chosen to wear Remus’ bigger shirt rather than a too small one, and a pair of Harry’s old trousers, which were too short, but not too small. 

The fact that he was roughly the same size as a fourteen year old did some things to Sirius’ confidence but he pretended that he didn’t mind. He blamed it on still being underweight, and promised himself that one day, these trousers would not only be too short, but also too small. 

“This is clearly an assassination attempt aimed towards Harry, and they all act as if it’s just a minor inconvenience!” Sirius wasn’t screaming at his friend, but he raised his voice slightly. 

Remus glanced towards the shape of his son in the armchair. “Please, Harry is sleeping. Don’t wake him up.” 

“Then get your butt over here so that I don’t have to scream to be heard.” Sirius pointed like he was directing a dog, onto the spot next to him on the desk. He refrained from thinking about the fact that said butt had probably never fit into anything as small as the trousers which Sirius had inherited from his own godson. 

Remus sighed, but he did come over to stand next to Sirius. He did not take up on the offer of sitting on his partner’s desk, mostly out of respect, but also because he couldn’t actually fit next to Sirius on the desk. He glanced down at him, but then turned to position himself in a way which allowed him to see his child more clearly. 

“We talked about this yesterday when Severus came to get us…” Remus spoke up in a small voice, leaning in towards Sirius as he spoke so as to not bother the sleeping teenager. “Your argument makes just as little sense now as it did yesterday.” 

“No, but think about it, Rem…” Sirius felt annoyance throb in his chest, affecting his tone of voice. “Why else would anyone put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire and force him to compete in this, actually dangerous, tournament? It has to be a plot to get him killed during the trials.” He was completely convinced that he was right. 

“That doesn’t make sense, I keep telling you… The Trimagus Tournament has been carefully crafted so that nobody will be in risk of dying this time. It makes little sense to use such a carefully monitored event to try and get to one child. It is a school tournament for young adults, not some sort of death trial.”

“Teenager.” 

“T-teenager… Yes, you are right.” Remus licked his lips, looking between his friend and his son. He didn’t look upset or sad, his expression communicated a mix of pride and disbelief. Remus couldn’t believe that his son had grown up so fast, that he was already a teenager. The idea of being a father had been so impossible to him, and here he was, the father of a teenage son. 

They were silent for a few seconds, before Sirius spoke up once more. “Karkaroff is a former Death Eater, he could have slipped Harry’s name into the Goblet. He actually had the chance, and the motive of wanting to use the Trimagus Tournament to try and kill Harry.” 

“Former. Former Death Eater, Sirius.” Remus stared down at his friend, shaking his head with disapproval. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck while absently chewing on his lower lip. “Karkaroff is considered a hero after his actions to assure the capture of a collection of notorious Dark Lord supporters. Including Bellatrix Lestrange, as you are well aware of.” 

Remus really was tired of him, if he felt the need to remind Sirius of the capturing of his cousin to make him listen.

Sirius clicked his tongue, looking away from the taller man with an angry look on his face. He muttered out his response, “but that doesn’t make him a good person.” 

“Nobody said he was a good person. You don’t have to be a good person to do the right, or even the good thing. Matter of fact is, that he still did the right thing.” Remus carefully reached out to touch Sirius’ arm, gently grabbing it before pulling his old friend to lean against his chest. 

Sirius didn’t resist, but allowed himself to fall against the much taller man’s chest. He sighed, then closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Rem… I’m worried that you are forgiving people too easily. With your boyfriend being a former Death Eater as well.” 

“And my best friend being a madman from Azkaban?” Remus asked gently as he petted Sirius’s head, causing his locks to bounce slightly. 

“Yeah, something like that…” Sirius nuzzled against him before he pulled back and smiled at the man. The smile quickly froze on his lips. “I mean it though, I don’t trust Karkaroff. I’ve accepted that Snape is a former Death Eater, so I’m clearly not being discriminatory here.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he believed his own words, and it quickly became evident that Remus wasn’t convinced either. 

“It’s not as if I am completely comfortable about the fact that Severus was a Death Eater when he was younger. Especially since he chose that path for himself, compared to, well, me being a werewolf, which was forced upon me. However, both you and I know that he never believed in any of those things, and only joined them because he feared for his own safety, and wanted somewhere to belong."

Sirius scoffed at the other, and refused to meet his eyes. He really didn't want the reminder of why Snape joined the Death Eaters. He was already pretty busy blaming himself for pretty much everything else in his life, and in Remus' life at that, and at the loss of his best friend's life. 

When he didn't speak, Remus continued.

"What good does it do anyone to hunt a man down and prosecute him for crimes which he has been trialled for and deemed innocent in? I know for a fact that the mark hurts him every day. Not physically, but mentally. It’s a reminder that he chose the wrong path. If anyone sees it now, he will become no better than a monster in their eyes. People have every right to be upset with, and scared by, the people who bear His mark, but that doesn’t remove the fact that some people are trying to atone, and to do better. If we do not allow them to regain their, well, humanity by choosing to do the right thing, then I believe that it is us who failed them.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, then kicked the air in front of him. He didn’t want to listen to this perspective. He didn't want the guilt. He didn't want to feel responsible. It was so much easier to imagine them all as bad, evil freaks, like Bellatrix Lestrange, who just wanted to do bad things and not be held responsible. “Some things can’t be forgiven.” He finally muttered, trying very hard to not lose himself down a path of bad memories and regret. 

“I’m not saying that you have to. You don’t even have to believe that Severus and Karkaroff are sincere in what they are trying to do, however, you are not allowed to ruin their efforts and their lives because you doubt them.” Remus reached out once more to pet Sirius. 

He bit after Remus as a joke, but then surrendered to the pets, leaning against Remus once more. Pets were great. You didn’t have to be a dog to know that pets ruled. “...How come Karkaroff was a Death Eater in the first place? From what I know, there aren’t a lot of Death Eaters in other countries.” 

“Well, I don’t know him personally, but I remember reading in the newspapers, back in the old days,” he chuckled and shook his head over how old the statement made him sound, “that he had citizenship in both the UK and Bulgaria due to parentage. I believe he even went to Hogwarts, and grew up in Britain but moved to Bulgaria after the war. I don’t know if he was bilingual or not as a child, but he has had a lot of time to learn Bulgarian.” 

Sirius had closed his eyes, resting against his friend like a sleepy dog as more pets were graciously administered upon his person. “I...forgot why I asked.” 

Remus rolled his eyes, then smiled at his friend. “Of course you did.” 

The two were silent for a while, Sirius let his eyes remain closed, while Remus glanced at Harry every now and then to make certain that he was alright and hadn’t fallen over, but mostly left him be. 

“I’m worried too. I hope you know that.” Remus suddenly spoke up, causing Sirius to jump slightly. 

The former prisoner of Azkaban sat up, blinking some sleep from his eyes as he focused on his friend. “...Of course you are worried. You’re more easily worried than anyone I know. So be it that I know, like, a total of… five people? If I’m being generous.” 

Remus sighed. “I just don’t believe that suspecting or accusing anyone without any semblance of evidence will make anything better. I’m worried, I want to do something, but all we can do now is support Harry to the best of our abilities. I have been promised that he will be as safe as he can be, and that he will have everyone’s assistance in getting through these trials as smoothly as possible, if he is bound to complete them.” 

“...I guess I do believe in Dumbledore.” Sirius agreed, pushing some hair from his face. He considered, not for the first time, if he should maybe cut all of his hair off, but decided against it, as he always did. “We will attend all the trials then, right? To be here for Harry?” 

“Of course.” Remus gave his back a pat. “But you truly should stop using ‘Harry’, you know that you haven’t earned it yet.” 

The former prisoner stuck his tongue out towards the real father of their technically shared, but not really, child. “I know, I know. My bad.” Then, Sirius thought of something else. He cocked his head, offering his friend a smug grin which wasn’t reflective of his true nature or actual mood whatsoever. “Will you buy me cotton candy to eat during the Trimagus Tournament trial?” He suggested, the very opposite of innocence. 

Remus smiled back at him. “No. White sugar isn’t good for anyone, least of all dogs.” 

Sirius made another face at him, then jumped off the desk and transformed back into his dog shape, thus signalling that he had nothing more to say. He returned to Harry’s armchair, and curled up next to it. Speaking was exhausting when one wasn’t really used to it. Thus, he shut his eyes, deciding to snooze while he waited for his Godson to wake up. 

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up from his nap, he woke to meet his dad within Professor Snape’s office, with his Dogfather half-asleep by the foot of the armchair which his dad had transfigured for him. To his surprise, Harry was told that Dobby had visited while he slept to leave some lunch for all the people gathered, and a bowl of meat for what he perceived to be a dog. Remus concluded that Dobby had been very pleasant to speak to, compared to what he had been like before, while Snuffles ate from the bowl of meat. Remus had cooked the meat, breaking his one rule about cooking food with magic so that Sirius would be spared the stomachache from eating raw meat. Sirius Black might be mostly a dog, but he was a person as well, and raw meat was not ideal for a person to consume. 

Professor Snape returned when they were just finishing their food, seemingly having eaten in the Great Hall himself. They didn’t have a lot of time before the Potions Professor had to return to his teaching duties, but in the brief time they had before his lunch break was over, the man took the time to ask Harry how he wanted to handle the upcoming school year, as his unwilling addition to the Trimagus Tournament provided a disturbance to his studies. Professor Snape informed him that he could retake a year, and focus his attention on the tournament and his own mental health in regards to it, or that he could continue on as normal, but with extra attention from the teachers to help him pass this school year. 

While Harry wasn’t too excited to overwork himself in that manner, he was even less excited about the prospect of not being able to stay in the same year and class as his friends. He did know Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, but he didn’t know any Slytherin student who was a year younger than him. Harry loved his friends very much, and the thought of losing them, although they wouldn’t really lose one another, was enough to make him almost cry. There was no doubt in his heart of what he wanted, and none of the adults held any illusions about what Harry’s choice would be. 

Thus, it was decided that Harry would be given the assistance he needed to pass this study year, as it was what he wanted. Professor Snape assured that if it would come to it, he would assign certain assignments and homework and the like during the next summer to assure that Harry would be able to continue on to his fifth year, even if he failed to pass his end of the year exams. 

After the conversation with the Head of his House, the Professor had to leave for work. Remus carefully spoke to his son about the repercussions which might come with such an event like the Trimagus Tournament. He reminded his son about the effect fame had on many people’s lives, and how newspapers and the like might come to hone in on certain things and twist them out of proportions. Harry may be famous, but he hadn't been given the attention of a celebrity until this point in his life. Remus looked very pained as he spoke of these matters, it was clear to the son of the werewolf that it hurt Remus to tell his son to mind his words and actions, as the world might choose to reinterpret them to suit its own agenda. Further, it was evident that Remus lamented not being able to help his son in any way, as him being such a vulnerable minority meant that he couldn’t speak up and help Harry without risking making the whole situation worse. 

Harry listened to his dad, and he believed all that he said, even if it was hard to fully understand and accept it as the reality in which he had to live. Nonetheless, he had seen it happen. He had seen it happen to his beloved dad, and he had seen the after effects of what a single newspaper had done, haunting and hurting the man. 

Remus and Snuffles had to leave by the end of the day, but as they left, they could take solace in the fact that Harry’s friends had come to pick him up and bring him to the Slytherin dormitory. Hermione, Neville and Ron had gotten permission from Professor Snape to visit the dormitory, and together, Draco, Nott, Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson, as well as the three Gryffindor students, had arranged a small party for Harry in an attempt to cheer him up. 

They weren’t trying to celebrate that he had been forcefully chosen as a Trimagus champion, but had arranged something small just to give Harry a reason to not feel dread about, well, everything. With the help of Dobby, they had been able to create a small feast for them all instead of going to dinner. However, they had asked for permission before arranging such a thing, so it was not as if they were going behind anyone’s back to make this little feast happen. 

Harry appreciated the feast a lot, even if he didn’t really have the energy to be, so to speak, partying or anything like that.

Still, it was nice to relax and know that his friends were having fun, and that he wasn’t a burden for not being able to join in with them. Nott and Ron figured out that they could have a soundless dance battle, and spent a lot of time trying to outdance one another, to everyone’s amusement. It was clear that they were putting on a bit of a show to entertain the other people gathered, but nobody minded their antics.  

By the end of the evening, Harry had been asked by Draco if he wanted to join him and Neville in working out so that he would be in better shape for the activities which he would be asked to perform that year. He thankfully accepted, feeling a tad sad that what had earlier been an agreement for him to be able to challenge Ron in outdoor Defense against the Dark Arts had now become something he needed to do for the sake of being even remotely safe in what was to come. 

Ron and Hermione had asked if they could join as well, which made Harry slightly happier, in that Hermione would be as lackluster of an athlete as him, meaning that he wasn’t the one person who was less fast and less strong than everyone else. He and Hermione were joined in being the brainy ones, who could collapse together after the workout.  Everyone was aware of this, and he and Hermione even toasted to being the feeble ones. 

The next day, Harry was uncomfortable going to the Great Hall, as he knew what he could expect from the rest of the school. A boy by the age of fourteen should not be used to stares, whispers and displeased rejection from an entire school’s worth of people, or most of them anyway, but Harry Lupin had come to know what such a treatment felt like by the age of twelve. That did not mean that he knew how to handle it, or that it didn’t bother him, but he knew to expect it, and he had mentally prepared himself for whatever might come his way. Or at least so he thought. 

Whispers followed him to his seat, but Harry had expected nothing less, so he wasn’t overwhelmingly bothered by it. Instead, he lowered his head and focused on his pumpkin flavored breakfast, while waiting for the mail to arrive for the day. When it did arrive, things quickly became worse for Harry. 

The first sign that something was wrong came from Hermione, who let out a loud “what in the world?” when she unfolded her copy of The Daily Prophet . Her expression twisted into a combination of anger and disbelief, one which was quickly shared by Draco when he unfolded his copy. 

“What is it?” Harry leaned closer to look at Draco’s copy of the newspaper. 

The blonde wizard made an attempt to hide the front page from him, but it was too late, Harry had already seen that which he tried to hide.

On the front page was the picture which everyone had agreed upon should not be used on the front page, featuring Harry in front of all of the other champions. The three champions and Harry smiled up at the reader under a bold headline which read ‘Harry Potter returns - the Trimagus champion to defend Hogwarts Honor!’ The photograph placed Harry in the center of focus, and while the three champions appeared to talk and laugh together behind him, Harry sat solemnly and still in the chair, staring out from the photograph with a guilty look. Harry got the feeling that the photograph was silently apologising to him. 

“L-let me… s-see that…?” Harry mumbled, reaching for the newspaper as if in a trance, as if he was a drowning person, reaching for a perceived rope which might pull him from the waters. 

“It’s all lies!” Hermione enforced, as she slammed her own copy down onto the table with a look of disgust spreading over her face. “How can they even print that stuff? It’s like some kind of sensationalism fiction, not journalism!” 

Neville was chewing on his lower lip, seemingly deep in thought but equally uncertain of what he was actually looking at when he eyed the first page photograph. Ron stared at the first page with a look of utter disbelief, as if his mind had simply stopped functioning. Blaise was hidden behind his copy of the newspaper, reading through the articles themselves without saying anything, as he was not as fast of a reader as Hermione. Nott didn’t look like he knew what to do with himself, nor did he know where to look as his eyes kept on jumping between people and objects. 

Draco was still staring at Harry with clear worry on his face, before he reached up to grab Harry’s hand, lowering it for him. “I’m not sure you want to read it, Harry…” He glanced towards Hermione to confirm with her. 

Her face was scrunched together with anger, and she seemed unable to sit still in her rage. “It’s lies and slander, you shouldn’t waste your time, Harry. Nobody believes this slander either way!” She huffed, looking towards Blaise, who just lowered his copy of The Daily Prophet. 

“No, this is ridiculous. It’s some kind of three page exposé on Harry, about his life and the like, with two pages about Krum, one half on Delacour, and one half of Diggory. Nobody wants to read this kind of speculation fiction in their newspaper…” He looked disgusted as he placed it down in front of himself. 

Harry’s panic was rising in his chest, and he snatched the newspaper out of Draco’s hands, before he ran from the Great Hall, the stolen newspaper in his hand. It had been a very dramatic action, overly dramatic even, but Harry was getting so very stressed out by his friends keeping something from him that he couldn’t keep the dramatic impulse back. It had probably been dramatic enough that nobody of his friends had known what to do, which was why he got away with it, and managed to run away before one of them could catch up to him. 

Harry ducked into a side passageway and ran upwards in the castle, aimlessly heading for someplace where there wouldn’t be any people at the time, namely the astronomy tower. Well there, he sat down on the stairs and allowed himself to pant for almost a minute, before he opened the newspaper with shaking hands, staring down at the headline once more. Harry could feel that he was already holding back tears as he began reading the front page. 

HARRY POTTER RETURNS

- the Trimagus champion to defend Hogwarts Honour!

The illusive Harry Potter, the slayer of you-know-who, darling of all of Hogwarts, and the pride of the British Mage community makes a dashing return to the public by joining the Trimagus Tournament! Two days ago, Mr. Potter was chosen as the Hogwarts champion, to defend his and Britain's honour in the exciting competition between the UK, Bulgaria, and France.

When Mr. Potter’s name was released from the Goblet of Fire, the magical artifact used to select the champions in the Trimagus Tournament, the entire Great Hall of Hogwarts came ablaze with cheers of support and jeers of disagreement. Mr. Harry Potter, age 14, did not appear surprised to have been chosen as the Hogwarts champion, but instead marched across the Hall with his head held high, according to eyewitnesses. He disappeared inside the champions room, leaving behind a myriad of questions to be answered. 

According to Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, both representatives of the Ministry of Magic here in Britain, Mr. Potter was not supposed to be in the Trimagus Tournament, but his name appeared in the Goblet of Fire during mysterious circumstances. Due to the rules of the Tournament, Mr. Potter must be allowed to compete, which shocked everyone, except the boy himself, who appeared calm and collected. When The Daily Prophet tried to interview him about his inclusion as the Hogwarts champion, Mr. Potter declined any comments, and left the reporters with a hasty, guilty stride. It stands to reason that Mr. Potter’s plan has worked, and we are all excited to see our national hero defend Britain once more, albeit from a slightly less dangerous threat! Good luck, Harry Potter, Britain cheers for you! 

To learn more about Mr. Harry Potter and his exciting life, turn to page 5. 

Harry did not have the energy to turn to page five to read about his life, which was likely nothing but a series of lies or confused facts, which had probably been poisoned with lies about his dad and his childhood. He felt horrible, not only had the reporter, Rita Skeeter, judging by the name on the article, twisted his words and intentions to paint a story which was, like Hermione and Blaise had said, fiction, but she had also punished him for not wanting to talk to her, all under the guise of cheering for him. She had also taken the achievements of Cedric Diggory, and made them into nothing but footnotes in Harry Potter’s tale of glory. 

Harry stared down at the photography on the front page once more, then began ripping the newspaper apart as tears began to roll down his cheeks and sobs shaked his body. He ripped more and more of it apart, throwing the pieces all around him as he continued to cry. Finally, when the whole thing was nothing but shredder paper did Harry curl together to cry against his knees, hugging himself tightly while blaming himself for running away from Draco, whose embrace he wanted more than anything right then. His dad’s embrace would have been great too, but at that moment, Harry could only think of what a horrible person he was for stealing and destroying something which wasn’t his in that he had stolen his friend’s newspaper. 

“Oh… oh dear, oh dear…” 

A weak voice came floating towards Harry from somewhere above him. He sniffed, and raised his head, looking upwards towards the path to the platform on top of the tower, as tears continued to stream down his face and snot threatened to escape his nose. 

Further up in the staircase stood a woman. She was dressed in layers of colorful clothing, with pearls and beads decorating her wrists and neck, and with big rings on her thin fingers, inside which galaxies swirled slowly. She was noticeably thin, and wore big, thick framed glasses, and had blonde, curly hair which bobbed up and down when she moved. She looked at Harry, who stared back at her, both of them completely unprepared to meet someone else in that staircase at that time. 

Harry glanced towards the paper carnage, before he sniffed and rubbed some tears away with his hands. They were quickly replaced by other tears. “I-I’m sorry…” he sobbed, “I will clean it away…”

The woman came alive, and began searching through her layered clothing. She found a napkin, which she brought to Harry for him to blow his nose in. She had a rather curious way of moving, as if she really wasn’t sure of what to do with her limbs or her layered clothing. 

“Oh, no, no.” She objected gently while hesitantly taking a place next to Harry on the staircase. She gave him a smile which was surprisingly honest while she played with her beautiful, giant rings. “Emotions are good. You mustn't hold them back, or you will hurt yourself, emotionally, and physically.” 

Harry blew his nose, then curled together again, hiding from her. He heard the woman pick through the scraps of newspaper, she was seemingly very fidgety, which wasn’t a huge comfort for Harry, but at least he wasn’t alone where he sat. 

“I sometimes come up here when nobody is using the tower to just… scream, and let out some of my emotions. Having an assigned scream place is good for you, lets you release all of the bad energies without doing it in a place where you want to keep the good energies.” The woman continued to speak. 

She reminded Harry a lot of Lovegood. 

“Oh!” she continued again, “I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Professor Trelawney, I teach Divination, I don’t think you’re one of my students?” She questioned, leaning her head to the side with a confused look on her face. 

“I’m not…” Harry sniffed, glancing up at her before hiding again. 

“Oh, then I shall use the power of Divination to reveal your name.” She lifted one of her rings up, then stared deeply into the swirling cosmos of the ring, as she hummed deeply, swaying back and forth. “Is your name…”She hesitated, then her face lit up and she raised her head. “Tom...as. Tomas!” 

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, which was enough for her to conclude that she had gotten the wrong name. The fact that she had picked something so close to Tom was a little unsettling. She closed her eyes and tried again. 

“Perhaps… Nathaniel?” She tried, earning another shake of Harry’s head. “How about… Patrick? No… Henry?” 

“Harry.” Harry corrected her. 

“Harry! Yes, of course, now I hear it correctly.” She nodded quickly, but then, she looked at Harry’s face, and realised that she wasn’t exactly making him feel better. At this realisation, she sighed deeply and rested her head in her hands, staring out into space. “I know, I know, I’m not very good at speaking with the spirits… or communicating with the cosmos. My grandmother had the gift of prophecy, I, however, am not particularly gifted.” She paused, then hurriedly added, “however, I do have a little bit of the gift. Not to mention, I see it as my mission to guide those with the gifts, even if my own are rather… unimpressive.” She twisted her hands in front of her in a rather nervous manner, laughing to herself to hide her discomfort about the subject. 

Harry shrugged. He was feeling horrible, but even then, he didn’t want to make this woman feel bad about herself just so that he would feel better. 

“You see, I have always believed that life is a single, undisturbed line of events, which will happen according to a destined plan. I would believe that all good which came to me was granted to me by the universe, and that everything bad was simply a punishment I was destined to receive. Had you asked me a few years ago, I would have encouraged you to not seek to end your sadness, as it is simply what the universe wants for you.” She continued to ramble, without Harry saying anything to support her. Maybe it was simply a nervous tick of hers. 

“However, I recently had a revelation, and it was granted to me by one of my students, rather than the universe. You see, in the past, I’ve had the habit, or perhaps the misunderstanding, that many omens which I saw had to do with death. Perhaps I simply… felt so insecure in myself that I was… That I tried to hook my students on the most eye catching of omens… namely demise.” She continued to fumble with her rings, looking ever so guilty. “Then, last year, one of my students played a prank on me, and I experienced the fear of that demise myself, the crippling reality of death which I had put onto my students for the sake of proving to them that Divination was worth their time.” Professor Trelawney sighed, then hid in her hands, much like Harry had earlier, likely staining her glasses with the natural oils on her hands. 

“You see, Divination isn’t about avoiding the future, or used to claim that all is decided and settled for. Nothing is settled. If you feel bad, you shouldn’t ignore it. If you feel good, you should be allowed to feel good, and not thank or blame the universe for your emotions. See, rather than sitting here and speaking to me, maybe there is something you can do to feel better?” She seemed to finally have gotten to her point. “You may leave the clean up to me, you just go find the thing to make you happier, won’t you?” She gently patted Harry on his back. 

It would have been easy to feel like she wanted to get rid of him, but Harry understood what it was she was trying to tell him. Namely that it was alright for him to feel bad, but that he should allow himself to search for, or obtain, something to make him happy again, rather than feel like he deserved the pain. He wasn’t entirely sure why she had told him about herself and her student, and it would take him some time to realise that she was actually speaking of Snuffles and Ron scaring her with the Grim in revenge for her terrorising Ron with the omen of death all year. Still, her words helped him find the courage to allow himself to go back to Draco and his other friends, instead of separating himself from the people who could make him feel better. 

Harry got to his feet, then nodded at her. “Is it really alright to leave you with cleaning up…?” He asked in a shy manner, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment over his own actions. 

“You leave it all to me, dear.” She smiled, nodding towards him. “Some simple cleaning is not a problem. Whatever it was you destroyed, it will remain destroyed.” She pulled out her wand, looking ready to get to work. 

Harry nodded once more, completing their back and forth nodding ritual which they had unintentionally come up with during the course of the conversation. “Thank you so much, Professor.” He began hurrying down the stairs. 

It wasn’t too long until he almost collided with Neville, as his friends had spread out to search for him to make certain that he was alright. The tall, handsome teenager looked surprised, then relieved that he had found Harry.

Before he could say anything, Harry had allowed himself to fall into his strong arms, hugging the other around the neck. Neville let out a weak squeak, but allowed himself to be hugged and hugged Harry in return. Harry would have preferred to hug Draco, but he was very thankful for Neville, and his mind was so desperate for comfort that Neville’s body broke down his defenses and caused him to sob once more, against his shoulder. 

“That’s alright.” Neville promised Harry as he stroked over his head and back, seemingly not unused to supporting someone who was upset or crying. “You can cry, don’t hold back. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape and, like, all of the teachers seemed rather upset. I’m sure that Dumbledore has already left to do something about this. We met Diggory too, and he says that you shouldn’t worry about the article, and that he isn’t upset. Neither are any of the other champions. Well, they're not upset with you, they're upset with the newspaper. Apparently yours wasn't the only fabricated article.” 

As if Harry needed more of a reason to cry, although this time, his tears were tears of relief. 

Neville wasn’t Draco, but he sure was a good person to cry on. A good friend to cry on. Neville, father of Trevor, had come a long way from the scared boy whom Harry had befriended when they were eleven. Harry, for one, was endlessly thankful for his friend at that moment. 

Chapter Text

Despite the support which Harry was getting from the tournament administration, the teachers and his friends, many people were still upset with him for a great many reasons, all of which had to do with the Trimagus Tournament. Many claimed that he had cheated his way into the event in various ways, and that he shouldn’t be allowed to stay for a myriad of reasons, while others claimed that Harry was Professor Dumbledore’s pet student and could get away with anything. 

The adults, that was to say, the Headmaster, the teachers and the Ministry, had in various ways and on various occasions tried to refute these claims and tried to get the information right. It didn’t seem to be common knowledge exactly how the Goblet of Fire was constructed, and students at Hogwarts knew even less of how the magical artifact worked. A lot of people seemed to decide on an opinion based on their own assumptions of what had happened, before finding out any of the facts.

In various ways, the adults involved tried to explain that the magical contract wasn’t binding by some sort of established rule or decision, but binding in a will-altering sense. It meant that if the contract was in place, then it would make Harry compete at his utmost no matter if he was prevented from it or not, meaning that he could get seriously endangered if he wasn’t allowed to compete. 

An established contract with the goblet would stop at nothing to have him compete.

The thought alone of not having a say or will in this was terrifying to Harry. Professor Snape had explained how the goblet worked, and the risks involved, in great honesty and detail once the man had been properly informed himself. He didn’t hold back from explaining it to any complaining student or person within reach either. 

However, while Professor Snape had a more honest approach to the whole ordeal, it was clear that the Ministry was trying to hold back, both in their own explanations and by attempting to enforce boundaries on Professor Dumbledore. Admitting just how dangerous the contract with the Goblet of Fire could be in the wrong scenario would also show just how far they chose to endanger the champions, and now an unwilling minor. It would not have been a problem if the participants were all willing, since the tournament itself wasn’t meant to be overly dangerous. However, it was becoming a problem when their rules and systems of protection failed, resulting in having to abide the contract lest risk endangering somebody. 

It seemed that following tradition, simply because it had worked most of the time in the past truly had not been a particularly good move, despite the care and new implemented rules. While the Ministry was trying hard to not paint Harry up as the culprit, they were also trying to cover up their own mistakes. Thus, the avoidance of clear answers and details led to students making up their own versions of the events.

There was even an incident with some students making and giving out badges which read things like ‘Potter stinks’ and ‘Diggory - true Hogwarts champion’, and other such inscriptions on them. This had quickly been put to a halt by the teachers, who didn’t allow the bullying to continue. They confiscated all badges they could find and removed fifty points each from any person who wore a badge which aimed to belittle or insult Harry.

Diggory himself took the time to find and apologise to Harry, as he found the badges to be childish and insulting, and didn’t want his support to come at the cost of insulting someone like Harry, who was innocent in all this. Of course, there was nothing Harry should forgive him for, as Diggory hadn’t done anything wrong, but he appreciated the action for what it was. 

From Diggory, he also got to hear in better detail why the other champions were personally upset with The Daily Prophet.  

Krum was the least upset out of them, but dissatisfied with that the newspaper seemed to act like it was alright to get small details and information wrong about him. Small mistakes in regards to his career, origin and personal information had been made without asking or addressing Krum through the interview, which would very directly have clarified what the actual answer would be. The celebrated Quidditch player had felt, at least a bit, as if they didn’t care to check the facts either because he was a celebrity or a foreigner from far away.

Diggory and Delacour were both very dissatisfied with their articles because said articles, in short, didn’t treat them like human beings. 

Delacour’s specifically only went on about their Veela lineage and beauty, completely disregarding their impressive academic and magical achievements, which they had been sure to discuss properly during the interview. It painted a false picture of somebody who had been chosen out of popularity, rather than somebody worthy of competing.

Diggory had been treated very similarly to Delacour, in that all of that which he had achieved was ignored in favor of either focusing on Harry Potter, or talking about Diggory as being popular and attractive, which he himself didn’t even really agree with.

In the end, it wasn’t only Harry who had been mistreated and misrepresented by the newspaper, and it was clearly creating quite a stir among the adults involved in the tournament, but there didn't seem to have been a proper resolution found just yet.

As more time passed, Harry was reminded of something Professor Dumbledore had said last year, in that friends was a great medicine against loneliness, or something along those lines. The son of a werewolf found himself endlessly thankful for his friends in this very stressful and tiring situation which had somehow become present in everything he did. Harry didn’t want to imagine how hopelessly awful he would have felt if he had been alone in all this, without his friend to support and help him, usually by simply being there, by existing. 

Harry was especially thankful towards Draco, who was doing wonders in just being there for him. Part of him felt guilty for being so needy with his friend, but Draco continuously enforced that it was not a problem for him to have Harry cling to him or sleep in his bed, as he was, everything considered, used to it. 

“Truthfully, your current behavior really is no different from how you usually behave around me.” Draco had told Harry when he expressed worry about being so very dependent on the blonde wizard. “The only difference is that you are struggling emotionally for the moment, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t do what you always do.” 

While it was a little embarrassing to be informed that he had always been clingy, Harry found his friend’s words comforting. Whenever he doubted his own right to be comforted, Harry would simply try his best to repeat Draco’s words to himself until he believed them again. For the most part, it worked, and for the times it didn’t, there was always Draco’s arm to grab and hold until he physically knew what his mind refused to believe. 

Of course, his other friends supported him in a number of different ways, with Hermione and Neville focusing on gathering notes in class for Harry to read in his own time since it was sometimes hard for him to focus during the lessons. Ron was trying his best to make jokes together with Nott, both of whom had elected to try and fill Harry’s days with laughter and noise to suppress his melancholia and anxiety. 

Even Blaise would offer some manner of assistance in subtle ways, such as showing Harry selected articles in The Daily Prophet during breakfast, as to try and show Harry that there was still entertainment to find in the newspaper, and that it wasn’t that frightening to interact with, at least that was what Harry would guess the other was doing. 

Draco provided emotional support, academic support, as well as helped Harry with small things, like getting out of bed every morning and reminded him of when to hand in his homework. Small, natural gestures which meant the world to Harry, which more often than not simply had the two of them be around each other. 

The circumstances of asking an unwilling minor to participate in something grand and time-consuming which risked ruining the entirety of his school year and regular plans wasn't any kind of ordinary circumstances. It wasn't strange to be that very scared and beaten down by it, as well as by the unwilling fame and lies spread on a much larger scale than previously in Harry's life. Logically, he knew that there was nothing for him to be ashamed of, but it wasn't always easy to remember. 

That day, as most other days, their friend group was sitting by the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. They were up comparatively early for it being a Saturday, and they had lost Nott to the comfort of his bed. 

Draco, Neville and Ron were planning on going for a run together, and Harry and Hermione were finally joining them. The group was trying to eat a light breakfast so as to not go jogging on empty stomachs. Ron was longingly staring at the newly brewed coffee which was tempting him from across the table. He was trying not to drink anything more than a glass of water before working out, as it, in his own words, ‘placed him in need of a leak far quicker than he wanted while trying to go running.’ 

“Is it going to be cold, you think?” Hermione glanced towards the entrance to the Great Hall, trying to see the main doors of the castle from where she was sitting. She had little success. “Maybe I should have brought a thicker pair of gloves?” 

Hermione was dressed in clothes which were somewhat too warm to go running in, but which would allow her some manner of freedom of movement. She had even managed to gather her hair away from her face and secured it a knot which was dangerously close to breaking. 

“You have good gloves, and you have a warm enough hat, you will be fine.” Neville gently smiled at her as he patted the little crochet object which was lying next to her on the table. “Many people forget the hat when they go running, and will come back inside with throbbing ears.” 

“Warmer gloves would make you sweat too much for comfort too quickly.” Ron filled in, as he dried some jam from his face with his thumb and then ate it without a care in the world. “Yours are good.” 

“Okay… yeah, and my shoes are good too?” Hermione fumbled with her gloves as she asked, she was clearly nervous about the whole ordeal of running together, which resulted in her trying to plan out every detail and figure everything out ahead of time. 

“Your shoes are fine. We will be following a track around the Hogwarts premise which has been taken care of to allow safe running, even when it’s cold.” Draco explained as he rested his head in his hand. He had already finished his breakfast and was waiting for the rest to finish as well. 

“Oh, it has been sanded?” 

Hermione’s words caused some confused looks to be exchanged between the gathered teenage boys, who weren’t familiar with the Muggle term. 

“I don’t know.” Draco finally admitted, nodding to himself as he thought about the idea. “I never thought about how they do it, I assumed it was by means of magic, but now that you do mention it, it could be that they use a Muggle created method to make the path safer to run on.” 

“That would be rather cool,” Ron nodded, looking at Neville for approval. “I mean, if they do use Muggle methods. I always thought they melted the snow with fire magic or alike, but maybe it’s more convenient to use something more… Muggledane.” 

Neville and Hermione snorted at his joke while Draco and Harry smiled.

Harry appreciated being allowed to remain in the background while his friends spoke, as he didn’t have the energy to involve himself at the moment. This was still nice, and still pleasant. He felt included, even if he wasn’t expected to perform. 

“The path goes past the lakeside beach for a long stretch,” Draco answered. “It tends to be a little more slippery there, especially in the mornings, so be careful, the two of you.” He looked to Harry and Hermione, both of whom nodded at his words. 

“Got it.” Harry confirmed. 

“I will be careful.” Hermione nodded again, this time at her own words. 

“I will- ow!” Ron began to say something, but before he had the time to finish his sentence, an owl dropped an envelope onto Ron’s head, scaring him to the extent that he hit his elbow against the table. He rubbed said elbow as he looked after the owl, which had a brilliantly reddish coat of feathers, making it easily distinguished from the rest of the crowd of owls. It was by no means an owl any of them recognised, and definitely not the Weasley family owl. They all followed the reddish owl with their eyes as it dropped another envelope onto Ginny’s head, causing her to fumble with it, and almost drop it, into a dangerously open teapot which appeared particularly hungry for envelopes. 

“That… envelope is slightly burnt…” Neville recovered first from the confusion, and pointed out that the object was missing an entire corner. 

“...OH!” Ron sat up straighter as he grabbed the envelope, ripping it open to read it. “It’s from Charlie!” He began to read the letter inside, which had also been slightly scorched by what couldn’t be anything but fire. 

“His brother?” Draco asked Hermione and Neville, as he didn’t want to disturb the reading teenager. 

They both nodded in response. 

“What is he saying?” Hermione leaned over the table to be a little closer to Ron, her expression slightly worried. “Is he alright?” 

“Oh, he is fine.” Ron folded the envelope and looked up at his friends with a big grin. “He is visiting Hogwarts today, and asked me to come see him at Hagrid’s hut when I can. I think I’ll just head there right away and catch up with you later, if you don’t mind?” He was already getting to his feet. By the Gryffindor table, Ginny did the same. 

“Of course not.” 

Everyone, including Harry, echoed at once. They then looked at one another, and laughed. Ron snorted as well, before hurrying to meet up with Ginny. Together, the two siblings headed outside the Great Hall.

“Has everyone finished?” Draco looked over his friends, who had all indeed finished their breakfast. “We should set out before it gets too crowded out there.” He then halted himself, before he added. “And I’m eager to get going, do tell me if I’m stressing you all.” 

“It’s fine. I’m ready as well.” Harry assured him as he got to his feet. “Some fresh air will be nice, I think.” 

Draco, Hermione and Neville stood up as well and together they headed towards the entrance of Hogwarts. From there, they would pass over the premise and get to the trail. Before they all could exit through the door, they heard a voice call for Harry.

“Mr Lupin! Oh, Mr Lupin, do you have a moment?” From the other side of the entrance hall came Colin Creevy, jogging towards them. He had left his friend group to come to them, and said group proceeded to enter the Great Hall.

Harry turned towards the smaller boy, after glancing towards his own friends to check that they didn’t mind the interruption. “We were heading outside, I’m sorry to ask but would you please make it short?” 

“Oh, not a problem!” Creevy smiled up at him, as he dug through his bag and produced a clipboard upon which a parchment had been secured. Upon it lay a Muggle pen, which had undoubtedly been used upon the parchment. The clash between mage tools and Muggle tools was somewhat jarring, but also exactly what Harry had expected of Colin Creevy. 

The Gryffindor student proudly showed the clipboard to Harry, letting him read what had been written upon it. Harry leaned in to read, and his heart immediately soared in his chest as he understood what he was looking at. Behind him, his friends leaned in to read what the parchment said. 

Petition to reinstate Remus Lupin as the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, 1994 and forward.

Creevy beamed at Harry as he pulled the pen free from the clipboard and presented it tohim. “Fifty names and counting, Mr Lupin!” He beamed at the whole group of people. “I’m hoping to catch at least four more before breakfast.” His smile somehow became even bigger as he held the clipboard out for Harry to take, presenting the pen like he was gifting an ancient blade. 

Harry choked back a sob as he accepted the clumsy pen which was in no way as elegant as a quill. He then stopped, thought for a second, then signed a different name from what he had planned, the name of Harry Potter. If they were forcing Harry to not be who he wanted to be, then he would use the name of the teenager who was not him to his advantage. Harry smiled at Creevy, feeling mischievousness thug at his own heart before he winked at the more than capable Gryffindor boy. “Five names.” Harry stated as he handed the pen and board over to Neville, who was standing to his right. 

Creevy blushed, clearly excited by Harry’s words, still beaming as he nodded eagerly. 

Draco chuckled, then reached up to pat Harry on the back, he was beaming with approval. “Excellent.” Draco didn’t need to say anything else, for his thoughts were freely accessed by looking upon his face, proud of Harry’s political move. 

“Do I just… it has ink inside of it?” Neville asked, glancing between Creevy and Hermione. 

“Yes, just write like with a quill.” Hermione instructed him. 

Neville signed the parchment then handed it to Hermione, who signed her name onto it as well. She appeared a little uncertain, as if she was considering writing something more, but didn’t.

“How nostalgic to use one of these.” She spoke loudly, as if she was trying to change topics, as she handed the clipboard and pen to Draco. “You usually don’t see any pens at Hogwarts at all.” 

“I have quite the supply of them.” Creevy puffed his chest out like a proud bird as Harry showed Draco how to use the Muggle object. “My brother has rheumatism, and his wrists and hands are especially weak. He cannot be expected to go back and forth with a quill, and I don’t want him to feel left out just because he was born differently from the norm.” Creevy raised his hands and made air quotes from the ‘born differently’ part and to the end of his sentence, trying to make clear to show that it was something others had forced upon them, rather than a correct definition. 

“That’s...very kind of you.” Hermione looked somewhat surprised to learn this about her fellow Gryffindor student’s brother. 

Creevy shrugged as he accepted the clipboard back from Draco, nodding in thanks to him as he secured the pen to the board. “I don’t know about that, I’m just using a pen I’m used to. It’s not like I’m making some grand statement or changing the world or anything.” 

“I’m not sure I have heard about... that condition before, would you mind explaining it to me?” Draco asked Creevy. Judging by his expression, he felt a little embarrassed to not know what most of the others seemed to know. In return, the younger Gryffindor boy nodded and started talking.

“Rheumatic inflammatory diseases are a collection of almost hundred disorders which are caused by inflammation of the movement organs, or the supportive tissue surrounding those organs, in other words the bones, muscles and tendons.” Creevy rambled, sounding like he had memorised a pamphlet about the condition. Considering what Harry had seen of him and his brother, it seemed to make sense that Creevy would learn to understand the condition very well to help his younger brother explain it, even if he was merely guessing in thinking that. Colin Creevy was a very forward and capable boy, after all. 

“There are also rheumatic diseases that affect the entire body as well as rheumatic diseases that are not caused by inflammation, such as osteoarthritis, which is what my brother has. Osteoarthritis is the most common form of arthritis, it affects millions of people worldwide, according to the doctors. It occurs when the protective cartilage that cushions the ends of one's bones wears down over time.” 

“That sounds very serious, what are the effects of such a condition?” Draco looked somewhat surprised and worried, but not falsely or overly so. There was a politeness about his reaction, but he was nonetheless humbled about the fact that he didn’t know anything about the condition, and wanted to know more. He seemed to decently keep up with the very scientific explanation, as well.

“Mostly pain and stiffness. As I said, he struggles to use a quill because of the constant need to move it back and forth from the ink bottle and to the paper, I mean parchment. He has some trouble with actually wielding the wand as well, but as magic isn’t actually bound to a wand and only a wand, I think he will be fine. Somehow. Somewhat.” A sad expression passed over Creevy’s face as he hugged the clipboard to his chest. He then shook his head before raising it up. “Thank you for your time, I should get back to my friends before they eat all the good cupcakes. Thank you for signing the list, take care!” 

Like he had come, Colin Creevy was soon gone again, whirling away to places known, namely the Great Hall and the Gryffindor table. 

Harry turned back to his friends, giving them all a smile. His chest felt less heavy than it had felt for a month, even more so since he had managed to conquer the beast which was Harry Potter and used the name for a good cause. His friends looked somewhat taken aback, but then Hermione all but sobbed as she moved in to hug him tightly around the neck.

“W-what?” Harry blinked, raising a hand to pat her back, then returned the hug. She sniffed in return. 

“It’s just… you haven’t smiled for a while.” Neville commented, his entire being seeming more at ease as he smiled at Harry. “I mean, you have smiled, but not like this. Not as honestly as this. It’s… It’s nice.”

Hermione pulled back, searching her pockets for a tissue with which to blow her nose. 

“Very nice.” Draco smiled at Harry as well, reaching up to gently pap his cheek. Even in the not-the-most-flattering-of-clothes and with a hat pushed down deep over his pale ears, Draco was so stunningly beautiful when he smiled that Harry felt his own face go from normal to burning hot. 

The son of a werewolf quickly looked to the side, mumbling something about how they were overreacting. Harry didn’t really mean it, as he understood well how good it must feel to see some improvement from the anxious wreck which Harry had been for the past month. Still, he wasn’t sure if he could remain like this, or if the world would bring him to his knees once more. Because of that, he didn’t dare to conclude himself as completely or even partly recovered, but for the moment, Harry felt rather good. It was, indeed, very nice. 

Something which was not nice was the cold, or the jogging. 

At first, Hermione and Harry were doing alright, but they quickly fell behind and struggled overall with the exhaustion from what appeared to Draco and Neville to be a simple track to run. By the time they got to the lakeside, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks and declared that they weren’t fit to continue with their running. Draco and Neville decided that they would continue for another lap, but would come back to check on them soon. After all, they weren’t dying, they were just physically tired. 

Together, Harry and Hermione sank down on a semi-cold rock, leaning against one another as they both tried to breathe. Harry pulled off his hat, and his glasses as they were fogging up from his sweating and panting. Hermione pulled her gloves off but kept the hat on. They sat panting for a while, leaned forward to let the air move more freely through their lungs. 

“Well… that didn’t work out…” Harry mumbled, wiping some cold sweat from his forehead, unknowingly baring his scar to the world. 

“Y-yeah…” Hermione sighed, lightly hitting her chest. “My asthma is coming back to haunt me…” She breathed deeply, her breath didn’t sound entirely right, and slightly raspy. 

“Oh…” Harry struggled to come up with something to say that would sound at least somewhat encouraging. “Is it dangerous?” He did not manage very well. 

“It can be, but I will be fine.” She assured him. 

“Good… Good…” Harry nodded. 

“Hello? Are you two alright?” 

A voice came towards them, as well as the owner of the voice. The voice had a heavy accent, and the clothes gave the person away as a student from Durmstang. However, it was only as he was standing right in front of them that Harry identified him as Victor Krum himself. Krum identified Harry in turn when he had stopped before them, causing Krum some surprise, judging by the fact that his eyebrows twitched. Both of them, as a matter of fact. 

“Lupin,” Krum nodded, acknowledging that he had recognised him. “Has something happened?” 

Harry shook his head. “No, nothing except the two of us aren’t very athletic…” He managed to pant out as Hermione continued to lightly tap her own chest, her face even redder now that someone had come to help them. “Running is rather… demanding…” He laughed, or tried to, as it instead triggered a small coughing attack which shook his body. “T-thank you, though…” He added. 

Krum looked the two of them over, then shrugged and sat down upon another rock which was close by, on Hermione’s side. He nodded towards her in greeting. “I’m Victor Krum from Durmstrang Institute.” 

“H-hermione Granger…” Hermione managed to breathe out her name. She was clearly embarrassed to meet somebody under these circumstances. It wasn’t for the fact that he was Victor Krum, but that he had met her while she was struggling to breathe upon a rock next to a cold lake, as her face remained affected by strain and embarrassment. 

“Her...moi...ni?” The Bulgarian Quidditch player tried to pronounce her name but found himself struggling. 

She shook her head. “Her-my-ni.” She was breathing a little easier now, which made it a little less impossible to speak. 

“Her-my-ni. Her-my-ni. Hermione.” Krum repeated a few times before he got it right. 

“That’s it.” Hermione giggled, leaning her head to the side as she smiled at him. 

“I hope you are not upset that I couldn’t pronounce it right away…” Krum hesitated slightly, showing an emotion which Harry hadn’t seen him display before. Something like guilt, or insecurity. 

“It’s fine. I’d rather help you with it then let you mispronounce it.” She assured him. 

Krum nodded at her, then looked the two of them over. “Are you trying to work out for health or fitness?” 

“Health, mostly.” Hermione informed him. “Harry is working out so that he won’t hurt himself during the tournament.” 

“Among other tournament based reasons.” Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the champion title weigh upon him once more. The son of a werewolf tried to not let it crush him. 

“Good, I have some advice for you,” Krum didn’t hesitate to share said advice with them, it was as if it didn’t even occur to him that someone would even want to decline advice from him. “It is important to be careful when working out, because you can badly damage yourself if you do not listen to your body. It goes for all kinds of workouts. Sometimes, your best is twenty push ups. On another day, it could be fifteen or even ten. The important thing is that you listen to your body and know when it is worth pushing yourself and when it is not. It is hard to judge, but you should set a realistic goal which you expand on, not an unrealistic goal which hurts you. Rather than the two of you trying to run if you don’t have the practice of working out regularly, for now, you should walk for thirty minutes every day, but make sure to take breaks if it becomes too much. It should be fine, but if it hurts, make it thirty minutes every second day. Lupin especially shouldn’t damage his muscles by being reckless, as it could cost him in the tournament. After a few weeks, you can start trying to run in shorter intervals and actually experiment with heavier workouts, but you need to get used to to the movement.” 

“That… sounds good… I think we should try that…” Hermione looked towards Harry. 

Harry nodded, smiling at her. “That sounds really nice. To walk with you every day will be fun.” 

Her eyes lit up at his comment, and she waved in front of herself, as if she was trying to smack something that wasn’t there. It was a rather funny, cute reaction, which caused Harry to chuckle.  

“Harry! Harry! Oh man, I got to talk to you, glad I found you!”

Ron’s voice approached them out of nowhere, alongside a somewhat red faced and sweaty teenager. Since Harry had put his glasses back on, it was easier to spot his Gryffindor classmate. Ron attempted to slide to a halt in front of Harry and Hermione’s rock, but he didn’t manage and instead slid past them and half crashed into Krum’s arms. 

Krum hadn’t stood up, but he had apparently been ready to catch anything which might fall on him. Ron was captured, and helped to his feet. 

“Galloping gorgons! Thank you, that could have ended badly.” Ron thanked the famous Quidditch player, not even registering who it was who had saved him from crashing into a rock. Instead, Ron turned back to Harry, and hurried towards him. “I gotta talk to you quickly, mind coming with me?” 

“Uh, ah… n-no, course not…” Harry’s voice had pretty much returned by now. Ron appeared more than a little stressed, which was somewhat worrying. Whatever he wanted to say appeared to be of utmost importance. “Do you mind, Hermione?” Harry remembered to ask her before leaving her alone with Krum. 

“Oh, no, I don’t mind! I need to sit a little longer…” She raised her hands and shook her head with a smile on her face. Her breathing was still strained, and she was still sounding rather raspy. 

“We’ll be back soon. Thank you, Mr. Krum.” Harry quickly thanked the other champion before he attempted to leave with Ron. 

When he turned towards his friend, the red haired teenager had realised who he had crashed into, and who it was that sat next to Hermione. Ron’s expression was torn between meeting his hero, and telling Harry whatever it was that he needed to tell him. It surprised Harry greatly when Ron turned towards him instead of Krum, then set off towards the edge of the forest so that they could speak in peace. Apparently, Ron’s desire to speak to Harry was stronger than his desire to speak to Victor Krum. 

They barely made it to the edge of the woods before Ron spun towards Harry, his face red and his eyes fiery. “Wyverns!”  He looked as if he had dragon fire breathing behind him, worry and determination clashing into a somewhat twisted expression. “The first trial is wyverns! You are supposed to fight one and get something, like an egg, from them. One wyvern per champion, and then a fourth for you!”

“I… I’m afraid I…” Harry stuttered as he tried to comprehend what the teenager in front of him was saying. Slowly, understanding was coming to him, causing him to blink rapidly. “Wait… you… you say that we, I mean, the champions and me, are supposed to fight wyverns? Like, the tiny dragons…?” 

“Technically, they are draconic creatures, not tiny dragons. Dragons typically have four legs, wyvs only have two and then the wings.” Ron explained, somewhat matter-of-factly. 

Normally, Harry would have appreciated that explanation, but for the moment he was a little too stressed to enjoy the extra information. “I will be fighting a living creature? A… that… is alive? Fight it?”

“Well… you technically just have to get past it, you probably aren’t supposed to hurt or fight it in reality.” The red haired teenager shrugged. “Either way, you know, my brother Charlie?” 

Harry shook his head. 

“I have a brother named Charlie,” Ron explained. “He works with dragons, and draconic creatures in Romania. He came here to Hogwarts just today, as he will be helping with getting the wyverns here to Britain, and all the settling them in and stuff. Me and Ginny went to see him, and he told us all about it. Said not to tell anyone, but I had to tell you or… or…” He stuttered as his face turned redder with every stutter. Finally, he avoided looking at Harry altogether, after his face took the time to become almost irreversible red. “I… I just… had to… tell you, you know? Can’t have some draconic beast take a munch out of you when I can… help, right?” 

“Right…” Harry hoped that he looked and sounded relieved and appreciative rather than terrified. “A wyvern… you said. I mean, I… I’m really thankful but… Ah, no, like this, I will have time to find ways to try and… get past it.” 

As soon as the words had left Harry’s lips, he realised that he was imagining himself alone, fighting the draconic creature. The idea of a lone hero challenging a beast in brutal yet honorable combat to slay said beast was one which had been promoted in so many forms that it was the first image which came to Harry, but he was too realistic to not shudder at the actual reality of what such a fight would be like. It wouldn’t be fun, or thrilling, or glorious or honorable. It would be terrifying, painful, and very likely cause the death of the person who was foolish enough to challenge the beast, dragon, or other creature. Still, even if the lone hero managed to wound the beast they were fighting, what kind of person took pleasure in challenging, wounding and killing an animal which had done nothing wrong but was strong enough to be considered worthy of slaying for glory? 

Then, another realisation came to the son of a werewolf; he wasn’t alone. There was no lone hero role for him to fill, for he had plenty of friends, and many accomplished and capable adults surrounding him, all of whom would want to help him, as well as wanted him to be safe. Thus, he knew what to do, and it certainly wasn’t to close his mouth and allow himself to worry until worry broke him apart, both physically and mentally. 

Ron had been silent for a while, carefully playing and probing the scars on his fingers while waiting for Harry to speak first. He was glancing back and forth, but his gaze continually returned to Harry’s face, searching for some manner of sign. Finally, Ron’s nervousness got to him, and he carefully spoke up; “so… what are you going to do? What should we do?” It wasn’t clear exactly who 'we' was referring to, but Harry assumed it to mean their friends. 

“I was thinking of going to see Professor Snape as soon as possible to ask what I should do.” Harry responded after taking two deep breaths. “I really appreciate your help, and the future offer of more help. Will you allow me to get back to you, and of course everyone else, once I know what Professor Snape says to do?” 

Ron nodded, he appeared slightly relieved that he wasn’t really asked to do anything for the moment. “Are you heading over to Snape’s right away then?”

“Professor.” Harry corrected him, without thinking. 

Ron’s appearance perked up, and a mischievous smile formed on his lips. “You don’t have to call me Professor, Harry.” 

Harry blinked, then snorted, shaking his head. “Good one, you got me. But please call him Professor Snape without dropping his title next time, please?” 

“I will, I will.” Ron promised, raising his hands as he forced a look of innocence upon his face. “I just forgot this time, sorry.” 

“I appreciate it. I was thinking of going to him right away, yes, would you mind telling Hermione and the rest where I went?” 

“No problem,” the red haired teenager gave Harry a thumb’s up. “I’ll make sure we will head to the Great Hall when we are done here so that you can meet us there. Hermione should probably have a cup of tea or something, she looked cold.” 

“Thank you, I’ll see you later.” Harry turned to leave, but the other teenager stopped him before he could make it anywhere. 

“Uhm… just… say….?” Ron stumbled, playing with his scarred fingertips once more.

“Yes?” Harry stopped himself from hurrying off and turned back towards Ron. 

“No, nothing… I was just… I was just wondering if, you know… that was… Victor Krum…? Back there I mean? Talking to Hermione?” The Quidditch fan and aspiring Quidditch player shyly asked about his idol while avoiding looking at Harry. His entire being had become as red as the Gryffindor emblem. The blush was so furiously red that it hid even his freckles. 

“Yes, yes it was.” Harry confirmed. 

“Oh,” squeaked the other, licking his lips while his eyes travelled around so fast and without focus that he looked like he was about to faint. 

“He was giving us some workout directions, I’m sure you could ask for some as well. If you want to, of course.” Harry smiled at his friend. “I really have to go though. I don’t think you need to be scared to meet him. Everything I’ve seen of him, he has been very pleasant, although a bit distant.”

“No, no, yeah, sorry for keeping you!” Ron waved his hands, appearing a little more focused now. “I’ll… Hope I don’t make a fool out of myself, thank you.” 

“You can do it, Ron.” The Slytherin student patted the Gryffindor student on the shoulder before turning from him. This time he successfully managed to leave Ron. 

As Harry left and Ron turned towards the place where Hermione and Krum were, Harry faintly heard the other mumble to himself; “you can do it, Ron.” 

Chapter Text

“Mr. Lupin, excellent. I was just about to send for you.” 

As Harry knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s office and was let in, he was greeted by the Potions Master’s words and an approving nod. 

“You wanted to see me?” Harry asked, closing the door behind him before coming to stand before the man’s desk. 

“Indeed. I…” The man stopped himself as he looked Harry over, then slowly nodded approvingly once more. “You have already been informed of your task by Mr. Weasley then. That will spare me some introduction.” 

Harry blinked, then smiled a little. Somehow, it had become so natural that Professor Snape could read thoughts, and still, Harry was sometimes surprised by it nonetheless. It was convenient in a way, even if the ability was rather frightening as a concept altogether. Still, Harry wasn’t the only one whose mind had been read by the man, and he wouldn’t be the last. Harry’s relationship to Professor Snape had changed quite a bit the more he had gotten to know the man as more than a distant authority figure and teacher. From what he knew about Professor Snape, he never abused that ability, least of all for the purpose of judging anyone. 

Professor Snape continued to speak about the tournament; “the first task is currently being prepared, as you know, but enough of it has been that this is an excellent time for you to be included in what the task is. Professor Zabelle has agreed to take some time out of his schedule to help introduce you to the draconic creatures you will be facing. By facing, I of course do not refer to fighting. The task is indeed to get past them, as Mr. Weasley informed you of.” 

The man appeared rather uncomfortable with his own words, something which Harry would not have recognised when he first met him, not the way he could tell now. Harry was uncomfortable too, he would have hoped that somebody would tell him that they were, in fact, not going to make him have to challenge a living, breathing and dangerous animal.

As much as Harry worried… it really wouldn’t help. He had already cried so much, and he was not about to again. Thus, he tried to focus again.

“I do not think that I remember a Professor Zabelle, sir?” He politely asked the man without directly making his question a question. Ever since Harry had been dealing with people asking uncomfortable questions about werewolves and discrimination against his dad, he had found it easier and safer to be very polite when he felt stressed, as it made him feel ever so slightly in control.

“He is responsible for Care of Magical Creatures while Hagrid is working to achieve a teaching degree.” The Professor reminded him, and he nodded in return.

“So the wyverns really are draconic creatures? Not dragons?” Harry felt it safer to ask than not, even if it meant changing the topic and risking to cause himself worry. It was probably better than letting the fears fester inside his mind further.

The Potions Master scrunched his nose. “Certainly not dragons. Professor Zabelle can tell you more about the creatures. I believe he is taking you to see the creatures for yourself as well, thus, you can also speak to the handlers about them. Charlie Weasley was never too attentive in my classes, but he is most accomplished in his area of work. As you know his brother, it might be easier for you to speak to him than other handlers, should you feel nervous.” 

Harry agreed with him, appreciating that the man had the awareness that it might be hard for him to speak to strangers. “Where can I find Professor Zabelle? I’d like to try and see the draconic creatures while it’s still daytime.” 

“He should be in his office,” Professor Snape began, then continued to give Harry instructions of where said office was located. “If he is confused to have you come to him, do send my regards.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry gave the man a small bow before turning towards the door, attempting to leave. 

“Mr. Lupin.” 

Harry was stopped by the other man’s calm yet nasal voice. He turned around to face him once more, and was met with a calm, ever so slightly pleased, expression. 

“Do remember to write to your father. Some news would do his nerves good, even if they are not necessarily positive.” The Potions Master wasn’t smiling, but it seemed that whatever exchange of reminders which had been started between the two of them didn’t bother the man, in fact it seemed like it did the opposite of bothering him. 

Harry smiled at him. “I will, Professor, thank you for the reminder.” 

Harry had to admit to himself that he had completely forgotten the name of his Care of Magical Creatures teacher from last year. Professor Zabelle was a man who had clearly been struggling with both his English and to speak in the first place, due to a prominent scar upon his neck. Harry recalled that he probably had introduced himself by name sometime in the beginning of the previous school year, but Harry had completely forgotten the name. 

Still, he recalled the teacher as friendly and patient, and upon meeting him outside the classes it seemed that the man was surprisingly chatty, although he was somewhat hard to understand. This Professor Zabelle made up for by speaking a little slower at times, and frequently making certain that he was making himself understood. He clearly let nothing stop him, as his disabilities didn’t seem to hinder him much. He had elected to take Harry out to meet the wyverns a little later in the afternoon when the man had some free time to spare.

“Oh, I have been wanting to see some wyverns for myself for a while now, I met them in my youth, but it has been so long, so very long.” As they approached the Forbidden Forest, Professor Zabelle continued to chatter, happily guiding Harry down the path and towards whatever hidden location they were heading to. It seemed that the man’s English had improved very much over the almost-year he had spent at Hogwarts, even if his accent was still heavy.

“Now, you have to have a very advanced certificate to deal with draconic creatures in general, especially dragons. I never got the certificate for myself, you see, after I watched a careless lass approach some wyverns in that first class and… Oh, no, no, that is far too gruesome to speak of, my lad.” He shook his head and turned towards Harry, smiling. “What did you say your name was again? I’m terribly sorry but after so many years, all of you students blur together. No offense, no offense.” 

Harry noticed that the professor was missing some teeth, but he nonetheless returned the smile. “None taken, Professor. It’s Lupin.” It was wonderfully refreshing to be forgotten, to not have to be Harry Potter, and to simply remind a kind but possibly forgetful man of what his name was. There was no prejudice or objection to the exchange, simply an old man’s memory failing him. 

“Are you taking my class, Mr. Lupin?” 

Professor Zabelle stepped over a fallen branch while Harry circled it. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were surrounding them now, casting not so ominous but rather chilling shadows over their path. Harry remembered when he had been inside the forest back during his first year, and how absolutely terrifying the woods had appeared, and been, back then. Today, as he walked through them with a capable, yet somewhat aged, wizard, in broad daylight, the forest seemed pleasant enough to even be serene. 

“I am not, Professor, but many of my friends are. I was taking it last year, but I learnt that it was not for me.” Harry tried to be polite and not blame the man for not remembering him. 

“Is that so?” Professor Zabelle nodded to himself, keeping his gaze in front of him. “I’m afraid I don’t recall you too clearly, but your name does sound a little familiar. Did you know it almost sounds like lupus, as in canis lupus, the latin name for wolf? Oh my! Did you hear that? We are getting close, how exciting!” After telling Harry about what his name reminded him of, the wizard was quickly distracted.

The man had been interrupted by something which was likely a draconic creature’s growl. Harry truly did not want to approach anything which could make a noise like that. The sound was hard for him to describe, but somehow, that type of roaring and hissing hybrid of a noise sounded exactly like what Harry had imagined a wyvern would make. Nonetheless, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor sped on, forgetting about Harry. Thus, Harry sped on in return, not wanting to be left alone in the Forbidden Forest. 

They entered a clearing inside which had been raised a great cage, taking up most of the space entirely. It was large enough to allow the creatures within it to fly free under certain restrictions, and a barrier’s faint shimmer was easily distinguished between the bars. The barrier was likely there to protect from the wyverns’ fire breaths… if they now breathed fire. Harry realised that he didn’t quite know. He counted three of the creatures in the air, and one which appeared older, who had built itself some manner of nest out of straw and was sleepily dozing in the warm sunlight, seemingly content. Harry hoped that that one was meant for him. It seemed calm. 

Around the cage stood a few people, who had to be the handlers. Among them was one who stood out a lot in that he had fiery red hair, all of which reached down past his shoulders, where it had been captured into a hard braid to make sure it remained out of the way. Harry immediately identified him as Charlie Weasley, despite the distance to him. Next to the larger, clearly adult man, stood another smaller redhead. Upon closing the gap between them, namely by following the excited Professor who wasted no time in approaching the handlers, Harry noticed that the other redhead was none other than Ginny Weasley. 

Professor Zabelle happily called out to the handlers. In his excitement, he ended up speaking French, rather than English. However, his announcement made the handlers, and Ginny, look their way. 

Ginny wasted no time in coming over to him, smiling from ear to ear. Harry noticed that her scar had been completely healed since she was hit by magical fire. While the scar was certainly there, and certainly present, it didn’t mean that it took up all of her face. It covered a bit of her lower left cheek, and reached down upon the beginning of her neck. Harry concluded that it looked rather good on her, like it suited her in a way which made it not only a scar on her face, but a part of that face. Much more noticeable was the fact that she had still kept her hair short, since the summer, and seemed very comfortable in said haircut.

“Harry! Come meet Charlie, he is my second oldest brother.” 

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s arm and stole him away from Professor Zabelle’s side. The man was still excitedly babbling to the handlers in French. Judging by their faces, none of them understood what he was saying and hadn’t had a chance to politely interrupt the man just yet, but nobody seemed to expressly mind the happy man’s gestures and excited speaking. 

“Charlie, this is Harry, Harry Lupin. Son of Professor Lupin, who cut my hair.” To emphasize her words, she shook her head, sending her short, red hair flying around her face. 

“Hi, Harry. I’m Charlie.” The draconic handler extended a strong hard towards Harry for him to shake. 

Up close, Charlie Weasley was quite impressive. All of his red hair had been gathered away from his face, which made it very easy for Harry to tell that he didn’t really resemble Ron at all. One reason for it was likely because part of his face was covered in a red beard, which had been braided with some turquoise beads. His skin was sunburnt, his frame large and strong and his arms muscular. He smelled faintly of sweat, yet there was a warmth about him, the type of happiness which came from a person doing what he truly wanted to do in life. Harry could see that one of Charlie Weasley’s ears had been burnt off, the scar covering a little of his face as well. His left hand, which was not being extended towards Harry, had a wound upon it which appeared to have been caused by some manner of acid or poison. 

“I’m Harry Lupin. If you don’t mind, I’d rather you called me Lupin, as we are strangers.” Harry carefully extended his hand, hoping that he hadn’t offended the man. 

“Not a problem.” Charlie Weasley shook his hand. “Call me Charlie either way. I’m a dragon and draconic creature handler by trade. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled, evidently not bothered by Harry’s polite reprimand. His hand was hard, it felt like touching the hand of a statue, cold, but humanoid, and not entirely unpleasant. It was evident that he was strong, so very strong that Harry didn’t doubt that this was a man who could wrestle a small draconic creature to the ground. 

“Likewise. I’m a student by trade, and highly unwilling Trimagus Tournament inclusion as of currently.” Harry tried to make a joke to make himself feel less depressed about the situation. It helped a little. Charlie seemed amused as well. 

“Show him your tattoos!” Ginny interrupted. “You have to see them, Harry, they are awesome!”

Charlie laughed. “You’re their biggest fan, aren’t you?” He teased his sister, before he pulled his sleeves up and showed them to Harry. 

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother, but didn’t say anything. She simply smiled.  

There were some scars here and there upon Charlie’s arms, likely left by the claws of the beasts he worked with. Further, upon his arms were various tattoos, most featuring dragons and draconic creatures, twisting and curling around each other, with colorful scales and lifelike eyes. The little spaces in between the many tattoos were filled with smaller depictions of nature objects, like plants, mushrooms, and trees. The art pieces as a whole looked somewhat messy but also collected, as if the large variation was something which was meant to be, despite the first impression of a glance. The ink was beautiful, the colors were truly vibrant while the darker parts and the shading appeared as dark as when the ink had first taken residence upon his body. Harry had never thought of tattoos as something more than just something that was upon a person, but as he looked upon Charlie’s tattoos, he felt like he understood for the first time that tattoos truly were art pieces. 

“They are… beautiful…” Harry struggled to find a compliment which was big enough to actually describe the way he felt towards the tattoos. “Are all of these real species of dragons and the like?” He followed his praise up with a question. 

“Yep.” Charlie grinned, then turned his arm over to point at a draconic creature high up on his left arm. “This beauty here is the same as the ones in the cage behind us. They are a Scottish breed of wyvern, one that spits acid instead of fire.” 

“Acid…” Harry repeated, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Somehow, acid didn’t feel any less dangerous than fire. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry.” Charlie pulled his sleeves down before turning to point towards the cage. “You see the snoozy one there? He has been in captivity all his life, as he was born with very weak wings. He is so old that he cannot produce any acid any longer. We got him shipped here especially for you.” 

The draconic creature in question was the one which Harry had noticed as the one curled up. The wyvern itself was a rather pale green, but with brown and darker green shades within its scales. Many of the scales lacked shine, and seemed to be aged in that they were less colorful than the younger wyverns. It had a rather round head and a somewhat short snout, with a long neck and a long tail which ended in a thin curl. Harry couldn’t see its legs too well, but judging by the other creatures who were flying around in the cage, he assumed the legs to be strong and ending in three toed feet with claws. 

“He looks… nice.” Harry hesitated to say that a wyvern appeared nice, but there was something rather soothing about knowing that the sleepy old wyvern was the one he would face. “Are there only males in this cage?” 

Charlie nodded, smiling at Harry in the type of manner which enthusiastic people reserved for their biggest interests. It was a very endearing expression, which made Harry want to listen to whatever Charlie was about to say next. 

“Yep, yep, female wyverns are larger and more aggressive than the male ones. We frequently observe how the female will lay the eggs and then leave the male to tend to the nest and its eggs. The female hunts food for herself and then brings it back to the male. Should she decide to leave him altogether, which happens rather frequently mind you, it is far more common for another male to move in with the nest-bound male. Male wyvs are generally more family centered ones, while the female ones do as they please.” Charlie finished with a hum, looking towards the sleeping old wyvern. “I tell you, kids, that one has had more husbands than I’ve had kisses from my partners.”  

“Do the males struggle to find food if there is no female there to bring it to them?” Ginny asked. She was looking upwards, studying the flying ones who were exploring the cage by crawling on it with what appeared to be their wing fingers, or hovering around the top of the cage. 

“No, they only really struggle with that when they are bound to a nest. Even then, they will leave and find food for themselves before raising unhatched eggs. Most of these are used to being fed by people, so they aren’t necessarily looking to hunt for the moment.” Charlie continued to speak about his clearly beloved draconic creatures. 

“Why are they used to people? Were they hurt?” Ginny continued to question her brother before Harry had a chance to ask the same question. 

“Yeah, none of these are wyverns coming from the wilds. That would be far too cruel to the animals, to bring them into an environment where they aren’t comfortable, surrounded by people they aren’t even used to seeing…” Charlie shuddered. “No way, these lads are used to people, and comparatively friendly. They aren’t likely to spit acid unless threatened, and I’m going to personally break the champions bones if they physically harm any of them. The real challenge for your champions is to convince them to give up one of their eggs, which, if you ask me, is also stupid. Whoever decided that they wanted wyverns to play-fight against is a moron.” Rage had appeared on Charlie’s face, rather suddenly. His voice became forceful, and his eyes sharp. It was clear that he didn’t support this idea in the least, and that he was worried for the safety of the draconic creatures when they were asked to face a group of teenagers with no experience in handling them. 

“If you don’t like it, why are you here?” Charlie’s sister asked without hesitation but she wasn’t accusing him of anything. There was genuine surprise on Ginny’s face as she studied her brother, blinking at him. “You could have said no.” 

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I could have, but the problem is that these lads and some of their friends live in a sanctuary which costs money to run. The three ministries of magic of the UK, Bulgaria and France are paying a hefty sum of money to it for borrowing the wyvs. The sanctuary needs that money. Me and my pals are here to make sure that the wyvs don’t get hurt or mistreated on the way or during that so-called fight.” The dragon keeper sighed deeply as he rubbed the back of his head, shaking it. “Really, I just wish you could compete in who can pet a wyv the best, but I guess that doesn’t make for good entertainment in the publics’ eyes.” 

“I wish that was the competition as well…” Harry agreed with a longing voice. In truth, he didn’t feel comfortable approaching anything as terrifying as a wyvern, but if he had to, he would much rather it be because it wanted pets than because it wanted a fight. 

Charlie moved a strong hand to Harry’s shoulder, nodding approvingly at him. Then, he appeared to have remembered something, as his expression turned to slight surprise. “Oh yeah, I was going to teach you how to handle old curly-tail over there.” He let go of Harry. “Our first trick when handling a dragon or draconic creature is always to use a sleeping spell. You have two options, the sleeping charm, or the bewitched sleep charm. They are slightly different in that the former is longer lasting and stronger, while the other one is slightly less potent but easier to learn. For old curly-tail, both would do the trick, but since he is likely to be somewhat more agitated when you meet him next, you might want to practice the sleeping charm before the bewitched sleep charm.”

Harry nodded. He felt a bit like he had been slapped in the face with a book about wyverns, but he tried to follow what Charlie was saying. “So the sleeping charm then?” 

Charlie nodded to confirm that Harry was right. 

“I should practice that, then cast it on the wyvern, grab the egg and then get out of… wherever I will be, very quickly?” Harry concluded. 

“That’s about it.” Charlie confirmed. “I’ll help you practice it for a bit, but after that, you might wanna ask your friends if someone is willing to be your practice dummy.”  

“You will let me cast it on you?” Harry blinked, his surprise written on his face. “But what if I-”

“No, no, not me.” Charlie shook his head. “Ginny said she was happy to be the dummy for the moment, but I can only watch over your practice for a bit before I have to head off.” 

“You still have work to do?” Ginny asked, looking towards the wyverns with an understanding look. 

“Nah, one of my colleagues asked me out for a couple of drinks down at the bar in Hogsmeade. It’s been forever since I had something strong and I don’t wanna keep my pal waiting.” Charlie laughed heartily, then turned towards the two students. “Well then, shall we begin?” 

After spending about an hour together with Charlie, practicing the sleeping charm, the man had to break the training session in favor of heading away with one of his fellow dragon keepers, a woman with no hair, whose face had been half burnt by what Harry assumed to be dragon fire. Charlie offered her his arm and the two were off, chatting happily with one another about who could outdrink who. 

Harry and Ginny returned towards the Hogwarts castle. Ginny was still blinking sleep out of her eyes, stopping every now and then to yawn before continuing again. Harry had gotten the sleeping charm down rather well, he thought, although it was a rather complex charm to cast. He hadn’t managed to put the girl to sleep even half of the attempts, but during the latter half of their practice, he had managed better and better. It didn’t feel impossible to learn the spell well enough to cast it in the given time until the first trial was scheduled, as long as Harry found someone who didn’t mind being his practice victim.  

“I want a nap…” Ginny shook her head to wake herself up as they returned back inside. “I’m heading back to the Gryffindor common room, see you later, Harry.” With those words, she stumbled off. 

Harry waved after her. “Bye, thank you for the help.” 

She didn’t respond verbally, but waved her hand at him as if to say ‘don’t mention it.’ 

Harry turned towards the Great Hall, hoping that his friends were still waiting there like Ron had said they would. He was happy to note that they were all there, sitting by the rather empty Slytherin table. Hermione was reading a book, her hair once more freed from the restriction of her bun. Neville was reading as well, while taking notes on a parchment next to him. Next to the two of them, Ron and Nott were engaged in a passionate battle of wizard chess, which Draco observed from the sidelines. Lovegood had joined them as well, she appeared to be playing cards against herself, but when Harry approached, he noticed that she was actually doing a tarot reading. 

As Harry approached his friends, he was quickly halted by the approach of Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson, who appeared to have almost waited for him. The group appeared slightly nervous, but not in any way threatening. 

“Sorry to bother you, Harry, have you got a moment?” Goyle spoke up first, giving Harry a careful smile. His face was slightly sweaty, which made him appear even more nervous. 

“Just want to exchange a word.” Crabbe filled in, or rather ordered Harry, judging by the tone of his voice. He looked down upon his fellow Slytherin student as if Harry was not a threat but someone he didn’t quite trust. 

The look was rather hurtful and unsettling to Harry, but the son of a werewolf tried to tell himself that he could be imagining it. “Sure, here or somewhere else?” 

“Just outside the Great Hall, we don’t mean to keep you.” Parkinson answered next, nodding towards the doors which Harry just stepped in through. 

Harry glanced towards his friends, but then turned towards his fellow Slytherin students. “Of course, but please don’t take too long.” 

Crabbe didn’t wait for him to say anything more, he started walking, expecting the rest of them to follow. Parkinson wasted no time in following her boyfriend, but Goyle fell in step with Harry. The larger boy attempted to give Harry a gentle smile, but once more, it came off as nervous. Harry did his best to smile back. 

Outside the Great Hall, Crabbe led them to the closest corner, where he turned around and rested against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for his girlfriend and friend, and possible lackey, to do the talking. Goyle looked to Crabbe, a confused expression forming on his face. He had clearly expected the other teenage boy to talk to Harry. 

Luckily, Parkinson wasn’t slow on the uptake. Instead, she focused her attention on Harry and began to speak. “The first trial is dragons. Hagrid told us.” 

“He said it was a secret, and that we weren’t allowed to tell anyone.” Goyle spoke next, clearly encouraged by her beginning to speak. “But we think you should know, since… you know…” 

“Since they will be your trouble pretty soon.” Parkinson filled in, very mannerly. 

“Oh…” Harry blinked at the three of them as a smile began to form on his lips. That explained their nervousness, they were only acting so suspicious because they believed themselves to be doing something they shouldn’t do while simultaneously placing Hagrid in a compromised position. “Thank you so much, I have already been told about that. In fact, I’ve been practicing for the past hour together with one of the keepers. Not to mention that Hagrid has been slightly misinformed, they are not dragons, they are wyverns.” He hoped that he wasn’t sounding patronising. 

“Oh… that does sound slightly more reasonable than to have you fight a whole dragon.” Goyle agreed. 

“Lupin.” Crabbe suddenly stepped forward, towering over Harry in a way which made it hard to interpret his actions as anything other than menacing. 

Harry automatically took a step back so as to not feel as cornered. “Yes?” 

“You have to win the Tournament for Slytherin.” Crabbe didn’t ask, he demanded. He didn’t waste any more time to specify why Harry had to win for Slytherin, or why it was important, he just demanded it without a single care about what Harry wanted. 

Harry felt his heart sink in his chest as he heard those words. Crabbe didn’t remain to wait for him to respond, instead, he pushed past Harry and walked off towards the Slytherin common room without looking back. Clearly, he expected the rest of his group to follow him, which they did. 

“Good luck,” Parkinson said. As she walked off, she flicked her head so that her ponytail whipped the air. The movement made her appear rather powerful, much like Harry imagined a female wyvern to appear, as she sauntered off with purpose and confidence. Harry believed that she meant those words, as she had no reason to mock him or want him to be hurt or lose. 

As she left, he was suddenly reminded of having wanted to help her, or talk a few things out with her. Somehow, all of that had simply vanished under the heavy load of which was asked of Harry over this year. In the end, she as well as Crabbe and Goyle had gone out of their way to do something for him instead, and she seemed somewhat different from just a few months back. Things were clearly changing around him, but Harry wasn't in a state to keep up with all of it.

Goyle took the time to gently squeeze Harry’s hand. “Be careful though.” He had to jog slightly to catch up with the other two.

Harry was left feeling pressured by their encouragement and demands. He found himself feeling small and tired, rather than feeling eased as he had before he had spoken to them. Everyone around him understood that Harry was just a child, and that he shouldn’t be and couldn’t be demanded to perform for victory in the Trimagus Tournament. It was a shock to the little more than boy to learn that there were people around him who expected that he would try to win the whole thing. It felt so utterly out of the bounds of rationality that Harry hadn’t even imagined it. Yet there were three of his classmates who appeared to consider it Harry’s duty as a Slytherin to risk himself for fame and recognition. As if ambition was worth Harry’s safety, as long as it reflected good on the Slytherin House. 

It was with a heavier heart that Harry returned to his friends and sank down next to Draco. His arrival prompted many questions, but they were soon halted when his friends learned what Crabbe had said. They were all rather upset about it, with Ron and Nott objecting so loudly to the idea that Harry should risk getting hurt for fame that they ended up talking over one another. 

“There is no way that that-”

“How could they even demand such a thing?”

“...As if that would really be worth anything when…”

“Crabbe has been acting weird for a while, I tell you, don’t listen…”

“And to bring Harry into it? So messed up, do it yourself, prick!”

“He’s become such a bully, I swear he was way nicer before he…” 

Hermione objected as well, but in a slightly more comprehensive manner, which made it possible to hear everything she was saying “Some people will always demand unreasonable things from you, Harry. It can sometimes be hard to know when they are actually making demands and when they are trying to help. In this case, they are being unreasonable.” 

Neville shook his head disapprovingly, his expression turning sour as he muttered about how 'fame couldn’t possibly be worth that much.' 

Draco pulled a hand though Harry’s hair before pulling his head down on his shoulder, offering him a much desired closeness and warmth which eased his heart as if by magic. “If Crabbe continues to speak with you in that manner, do inform me and I will attempt to talk to him. The last thing you need is more outside pressure. I thought Crabbe knew better than this…” As he spoke the last sentence, his expression turned bothered. If Draco hadn’t been holding Harry, the blonde wizard would likely have nervously fidgeted with his cufflinks.

Harry responded by gently shaking his head. “I appreciate it, but if Crabbe becomes a problem, I will speak to Professor Snape about it. It’s not your responsibility to handle him, especially since you aren’t that close friends anymore.” 

Draco nodded from side to side, then ruffled Harry’s hair again, causing Harry to object without any real displeasure. “You are correct,” Draco sighed. 

“Lupin, would you like me to tell your future using the cards?” Lovegood’s distant voice slid into their conversation. The girl held up her deck in front of her, showing it to Harry. “It’s fun, and you always learn something new.” 

Harry glanced at the beautiful cards which she presented to him, allowing his eyes to glance over the names of said cards as well. One was labelled the Star, its art showed a starry night sky with a big, brilliant star in the center. Another read the Moon, it looked similar to the Star, but with a moon in the center of the sky. A third had the Empress written underneath a detailed art peace of a beautiful yet sorrowful woman. 

Lovegood smiled absentmindedly. “I took out all the bad cards like Death, The Tower and the Hanged Man, those aren’t very nice. Thus, my deck is a little smaller, and nicer.” 

“Fortune telling is bogus in the first place, she might as well do what she wants.” Ron muttered somewhere behind Harry. 

“...Sure.” Harry gave her a hesitant smile before he straightened up, allowing the girl to have his full attention.

Lovegood began to place the cards on the table before Harry, then slowly began to read his fortune. It was a clumsy reading, and clearly not very reliable, but when she was done, she had confirmed that Harry would be safe, happy, and that he would have academic successes to look forward to. Plus, he would probably win a lot of money very soon. It was rather evident to Harry that this was Lovegood’s way of cheering him up. He appreciated the gesture for what it was, and even made a little bit of a show in considering what he would buy with that money which he in no way was about to win. 

At the end of the day, after Harry had spoken with his friends about all that he had learned, and secured both Nott and Ron as his willing sleep subjects, Harry fell asleep rather quickly next to Draco. It had been a long day. Harry was eager to escape from everything for a few hours and just rest. Luckily, he was allowed a dreamless sleep, which was just what he needed. 

Chapter Text

The last week before the first trial, Harry felt like he had an endless amount of things which he needed to do, but that endless list also helped keep his mind off the fear of facing a wyvern. At least a little. 

His friends helped him practice the sleeping charm, with Hermione acting as their supervisor. However, she was not always available, which meant that practice couldn’t continue forever, but that was just as well, or Harry would probably have ended up overworking all of them out of his own fears. 

Harry and Hermione tried to stick to Krum’s workout advice, which meant that they aimed to walk for thirty minutes every day. Harry felt like it was helping him, not to mention that it really was nice to speak to Hermione alone. Harry found that he was interested in learning more about what life was like living in a Muggle society, but he tried to not only ask her about things like that in case it would make her self-conscious. Thus, they talked about this and that, sometimes school work, or an interesting book which Hermione was reading. Now and then they talked about the everyday life of Muggles, which made Harry feel rather certain that he would no doubt exceed expectations during the next Muggle Studies class. 

Krum would come join Harry and Hermione every now and then, usually covered in sweat after having worked out on his own. He appeared to enjoy listening to Hermione speak in general, and didn't usually make any comments or speak up. 

Three days before the first trial Krum joined the two of them, as usual. They had both gotten used to him quietly walking next to them, which made for a rather curious change when he suddenly spoke up. Hermione had been telling Harry about democracy and how it had been formed around 2500 years ago in a city by the name of Athen, and had then been rediscovered and changed to become a core of western societal and political beliefs, when Krum raised his voice. 

“How come you know so much about the non-muggle users?” Krum struggled a little with remembering the English shortening for non-mages and mashed them all together into something completely opposite to what he was trying to say. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks before Hermione answered, her voice slightly hesitant and her gaze avoiding the foreign student. “I’m… Neither of my parents were mages. In fact, there have been no mages in my family until me.” 

Krum blinked at her. “You are… Not mage born?” There was a small hint of surprise in his voice as he studied her. “But you are so… accomplished in magic, and you know so much, how could you not be mage born?” 

Hermione closed her eyes, then took a deep breath through her nose. When she opened her eyes once more, her face settled on determination. “I am, because I study. Knowledge isn’t something you are gifted with by manner of birth or blood, it is something you gain through work. Magic talent based on blood lineage, or whatever you wish to call it, is a myth.” 

Krum blinked once again, then slowly nodded. “I did not mean to make it seem as if you are not good at what you do based on your own work, I was just surprised. Durmstrang does not accept students if they don’t have at least one mage parent, someone like you just… would not be allowed.” He was frowning at this point, turning to look forward as he walked.

“...Are you saying that you have some manner of problem with me being here?” Hermione’s voice sounded sharper than Harry had heard it before, as she more or less angrily challenged Krum to answer her. However, Harry knew her well enough to know that her anger was just to mask her hurt. 

“No, no.” Krum shook his head, turning to fully face her. His expression was subtle, but he was nonetheless looking at Hermione with some manner of awe. “It must… You are really good at magic performance, and you know so much about… so many things. I never thought about how many people like you were not allowed in Durmstrang just because their blood was not enough. It’s… shocking to think of.” He gave her a small smile. “You are amazing, Hermione. Just being around you is teaching me much.” 

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Krum had forgotten that he was there as well. 

Hermione blinked at the world renowned Quidditch player, trying to wrap her head around his praise. In the end, she ended up stuttering something out before turning away from Krum. Harry noted to his own small amusement that although he had previously thought Ron to be the personification of embarrassment, Hermione’s current expression more than rivalled him. It only pleased Harry because Hermione wasn’t embarrassed because she was hurt, but because the praise had made her both happy and embarrassed. 

“I hope I am not being… Too forward, if you do not like my company you can always ask me to leave.” Krum appeared to be slightly worried that he had said something wrong. 

“No, no, it’s… It’s fun to spend time with you too!” Hermione hurriedly blurted out. “I just… I was, wondering… if we could maybe make it an exchange as well?” 

“Yes?” Krum leaned his head ever so slightly to the side, waiting for her to continue. 

“You say that I’m teaching you so much, and I’m really happy that I am, but I was wondering if you might be able to teach me some things in return? There are certain things that Durmstrang Institute teaches its students that I am curious to learn more about.” Hermione hurriedly blabbered. She was evidently nervous to ask, thus having reverted to that hurried way of speaking which she had used in classrooms when she believed that nobody wanted to listen to her. 

Harry felt like he should say something as to not become a passive extra in his friend and acquaintance conversation. “I would also like to know some more things about the curriculum at Durmstrang. I’m rather busy for the moment, but I’d like to learn more when I’m not.” 

Krum looked between them. “So you would both want me to teach you things in return?” 

Harry and Hermione nodded as one, as if they had practiced for this exact situation. They hadn’t, but they were so synchronised that it appeared as if they had. 

“I do not mind. I’m not a very good teacher though, but I will do what I can to be understood.” Krum stumbled slightly with his English at the end. It was hard to tell with Krum but it was possible that nervousness had caused him to stumble at the words. 

“That sounds great!” Hermione cheered. Relief was written all over her face. “I have so many questions, first of all-” 

“If you speak that fast, I will not understand you.” Krum carefully interrupted her. “Would you speak a little slower and louder.” He raised a hand and pointed to his right ear. “My hearing is damaged on this ear, I can not hear very well.” 

With that information, things fell into place for Harry. That explained why Krum was very often asking people what other people had said, he was struggling to hear them in the first place, as well as why the Durmstrang Headmaster elected to speak so close to Krum’s ear. 

“Would it be rude of me to ask if it’s something you were born with or something that came later?” Hermione carefully asked, twisting some hair between her fingers while staring down upon the ground. 

“I personally do not mind, but I like it if you did not spread it. The first time I played Quidditch on a large arena, I was careless with the equipment. Or rather, I thought that it was unnecessary to protect my hearing, after that game, I could not hear properly. When I checked it later, they told me that I had damaged it beyond repair.” He absently rubbed his earlobe as he spoke, staring off into distant memories. “Be careful with your hearing, you only get one.” He summarised at the end. 

“We will keep that in mind.” Harry told the other teenager, his expression serious. 

“We sure will.” Hermione agreed. 

The day before the first trial, Harry was struggling with absolutely everything. He felt like his brain was a jumble of things which couldn’t focus on anything, least of all classes. He wasn’t the only one struggling to focus, as the excitement and expectations of the following day was too present in the school. 

Outside on the Hogwarts school grounds, a gigantic arena had been built out of the Quidditch stadium. It was fashioned like a sort of cage, with the cage in the center of circular benches, which were all safely outside of the cage. The students had been told not to approach it as it was still being constructed but would be finished by the time of the trial tomorrow. Some stalls and tents were already being put up a short distance from the arena, which were probably going to be selling food and snacks for the Trimagus Tournament. Someone said that Hogsmeade was already being filled up with some people who had decided that it was immensely important for them to attend the competition. A ticket booth had been set up by the gates to Hogwarts, so at least the Ministry of Magic was taking measures to not allow too many people onto the school grounds without permission. After the Sirius Black incidents last year, and the riot at the Quidditch World Cup, Aurors were going to be present throughout the event. Harry was personally glad about that arrangement, but he would have been far, far happier if he had just been another member of the audience. 

The night before the first trial, Harry was struggling to sleep, but nobody had expected anything else. Nott had decided that since Harry wasn’t using his bed for the moment, it was simply fair game for Nott to conquer the bed as his. At least for the moment. Harry didn’t mind, and so, their room had gotten one more inhabitant.  

As had become usual, Nott arrived at their shared living space, holding something behind his back. He didn’t hesitate but walked straight over to Harry, who was hugging his pillow and staring out at nothing. 

“So I’ve been thinking about how to tackle the wyveration. The wyv-situation, if you didn’t get it.” Nott cheerfully addressed Harry. 

Harry, in turn, tried to smile at him but it came off as a stiff grimace. 

“Either way!” Nott hurriedly continued, “I made something for you to use as a last resort.” He produced his hands from behind his back, then opened the left one up to show Harry a round, metallic object with a red button-looking contraption on the top. “It’s a noisemaker, I’ve perfected it now, it won’t just go off with a slight nudge any more.” 

“Uhm… I…” Harry held out his hand for the object, unsure of what else to do. 

Nott wasted no time in giving him the noisemaker. “So here is what you do, you-”

“That’s quite the crowd around my bed.” Draco approached his bed. His hair was slightly wet since he had just showered, and he had a towel wrapped around his shoulders to avoid his wet hair from dripping onto his pajamas. 

Harry wasn’t envious of his straight hair, but he was slightly jealous of the fact that Draco didn’t have to wrestle with a comb for thirty minutes to look presentable. 

“I’m telling the Lupling about my noisemaker. I promise I’m not trying to join your bed club.” Nott grinned at Draco. “As I was saying,” he turned back to Harry, “you press that red button, and then you hurl it away from you. The wyvern should be finding that noise to be the bigger threat compared to you and go after it, allowing you to snatch the egg away while it is busy.” He summarised, then winked at Harry. “I know you have your own plans, but I’ve been wanting to help you make a plan B so to speak. If your sleeping charm would fail for some reason, you have that.” 

Harry let his fist close around the noisemaker, this time, it was far easier to smile at Nott, because he felt extreme relief and gratitude. “Thank you… I don’t know what to say, I… Thank you so much.” 

“Excellent forward thinking, Nott.” Draco smiled at the tinkerer as well, before he reached up to pet him on the back. 

Nott grinned at them. “No problem! Is there anyone in the shower or can I head in there?” 

“It’s free, the lock on the door has been a little strange lately, so you might want to bring your wand in case you can’t lock it or get locked in.” Draco dried his hair off some more before hanging the towel up to dry on his empty clothing rack. After that, he sat down next to Harry on the bed, giving him a soft smile. “Say, if you can’t sleep, I want you to wake me up.” 

“I don’t know if-” Harry automatically began objecting. 

“I want you to wake me up.” Draco reinforced, his tone of voice having turned stricter. “I don’t want you to suffer alone throughout the night when I can at least be there for you.” 

As Draco’s stern but kind gaze found Harry’s, he felt his heart flutter in his chest to such a degree that it felt impossible to not look away from Draco’s face. Still, Harry couldn’t look away. It felt like if he looked away now, he would regret it for the rest of his life, which was frankly ridiculous since it probably wouldn't lead to anything. There was some manner of tension between them, a tension which only seemed to be growing with every beat of Harry’s heart. In summary, it meant that the tension was growing with alarming speed. Harry stared at the other’s face as if in a daze, he felt as if his glasses had fogged up, as if he couldn’t quite see. He opened his lips to say something, but he didn’t know what to say, neither did he feel like he had any right to say anything. His heart continued to beat rapidly within his chest, threatening to kill him softly. 

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Draco leaned in a little closer. Meaning that his lips came closer. His face was slightly red after the shower, and he smelled faintly of expensive body wash products. Harry really liked that scent. 

Harry had never thought of his name as beautiful, but when it was spoken by Draco just now, it sent goosebumps over his arms. 

“No, n-nothing. Sorry.” Harry quickly stuttered out. Then, gathering all his courage, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Draco, replacing his earlier pillow with his best friend instead. Harry’s face burnt almost painfully as he hid it against Draco’s shoulder. Of course, he took care not to crush his glasses in the process. “I’m just… I mean… Thank you for always… Thinking of me. You’re a great friend.” 

Draco’s arms wrapped around Harry in return, pulling him closer into a warm, comforting embrace. “You’re a great friend too. You will be alright tomorrow. I won’t tell you not to worry, but you will be alright.” 

Harry had no idea how much he had needed to hear those words. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. There was no stopping them after that. When Harry had finally emptied his storage of tears, his head felt light. After that, falling asleep was surprisingly easy. Perhaps, at least for tonight, crying had been just what he needed. 

The day of the first trial arrived, no matter if Harry wanted it to or not. After he woke up and washed his face, he was pretty quickly called away from his friends to have breakfast with the three actual champions. When Mr. Crouch came to collect Harry, he wasn’t exactly completely comfortable with leaving with the stern man to eat with people he didn’t really know, but when he arrived at the specially prepared room dedicated to the champions, he found that his dad and Snuffles were there as well. Harry knew that his dad was coming, but he hadn’t expected Remus to already be there. 

“Dad.” Harry let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t known that he had been holding. He was completely blind to his surroundings in favor of looking at his dad, who, despite Remus’ own perceived helplessness, still offered Harry immense relief by virtue of being there. This blindness almost caused Harry to trip over Snuffles, who had approached Harry without hesitation and with great happiness. 

“Hello, Harry.” Remus approached Harry in turn, meeting him halfway. “Severus said that he had other duties to attend to for the moment, but all the parents were invited to have breakfast with their children before the trials.” 

Remus held out his arms, which Harry took as the open invitation it was, and hugged his dad. “I’m so glad to see you, I thought you would come later.” 

“For whatever it’s worth, I’m very glad I can have breakfast with you.” Remus patted Harry’s shoulders, then sighed deeply. He immediately seemed self-conscious after the sigh. “I don’t mean to be melodramatic, I’m just a little worried.” 

“It’s alright, dad, I’m worried too.” Harry confessed as Snuffles pushed his face against Harry’s hand, begging for some manner of recognition. 

Harry petted Snuffles’ head as he looked around in the room. They were on the top floor, not counting the attic. The room wasn’t too big, but more than spacious enough to fit a larger than average table, which had been filled with a varied breakfast buffet on par with the one in the Great Hall. There were a collection of people there, but not as many as Harry had expected. All the champions were present, but not so many parents. Krum had Headmaster Karkaroff accompanying him, while Delacour was spending time next to a small girl in a wheelchair who couldn’t be anyone else but their sister, judging by the resemblance between the two. The two groups sat on opposite sides of the table. 

By Diggory’s side stood a man who had the same nose as the champion, and the same hair color, although it was slightly greying from age. He was eagerly speaking with Professor Karkaroff for the moment. The Headmaster seemed passively annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to drink his coffee in peace, and he had made no effort to get up from his chair. Equally, the other man had made no effort to sit down by the table.

The way the unfamiliar man was speaking revealed him to be Diggory's father. It was evident in that he couldn’t stop talking about and praising his son, saying things about how Ced would definitely become famous if he was able to defeat Victor Krum in a battle of wits and magic. Krum’s brow twitched slightly before he excused himself from the table. He went into a corner of the room where he began stretching, clearly having finished eating, if he had eaten at all. 

Mr. Diggory had been busy with Professor Karkaroff, but when Harry looked at him, the man suddenly became aware of his presence. He excused himself from the other man, who shrugged and returned to his coffee, not without slight relief in his eyes. Diggory glanced at Krum, who had his back to him, before he followed his father, possibly deeming it more important to keep an eye on his boasting parent that he did apologising to the other champion right away. 

“Harry Potter! Himself, in the flesh.” Mr. Diggory happily extended a hand towards Harry. “Amos Diggory, an honor, my boy, such an honor.”

There was no ill will or harm in his happy, honest smile, but that did not stop Harry from immediately getting a bad impression of him. Most of it had to do with getting ‘Potter’ pushed upon him so early in the morning, before he even had the chance to eat something. Harry never wanted to deal with Harry Potter, but he wanted it even less on a hungry stomach on a very, very stressful day. 

“Dad.” Diggory spoke up from behind the man. His handsome features were twisted into a displeased frown. “I’ve told you over and over that this is Harry Lupin. Not Harry Potter.” 

“Oh son, I couldn’t call him that, that name is-” 

Whatever it was that Mr. Diggory was planning on saying, was abruptly drowned by a very displeased Snuffles, who began to loudly bark at him. The noise was so loud that everyone in the room turned towards them. Delacour’s sister appeared slightly frightened. She reached out to grab her sibling’s sleeve, holding on to them for support. Delacour patted her back and said something in French, which seemed to effectively calm the girl at least somewhat. 

“Snuffles!” Harry and Remus said as one as the barking dog caused Mr. Diggory to retreat a step, sweat forming on the man’s brow. Snuffles looked up at both Lupins, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he wagged his tail innocently. Both father and son were secretly greatly appreciative of his actions, something that Snuffles was very well aware of. 

“N-nice doggy…” Mr. Diggory tried, his voice shaking slightly. 

“He barks at bigots, dad.” Diggory calmly addressed his father, before sending an apologetic glance towards Remus, his former Professor. Diggory looked pained about the whole ordeal, and fairly embarrassed, but also a little relieved that the dog had interrupted.

Judging by Diggory’s look and comment, Harry concluded that Mr. Diggory had been about to say something disrespectful about Remus’ condition. Harry made a show out of patting Snuffles on the head, hoping that it would send a message to the bigoted man. “Good dog. I’m Harry Lupin, if you excuse me, Mr. Diggory, I’d like to have breakfast with my dad now.” Harry walked past the man, heading towards the breakfast table to eat. Both Remus and Snuffles followed him, leaving Mr. Diggory alone to be quietly lectured by his son. 

Harry and Remus ate breakfast together, that is to say, Harry tried to eat while his dad did his best to do the same. They talked a little back and forth, but in hindsight, Harry couldn’t remember what they had talked about. 

Sometime during the breakfast, Delacour and their sister came over to ask if the sister might be allowed to pet Snuffles. Of course, she was allowed to. Whatever fear she had displayed earlier in regards to the big dog was quickly forgotten as she scratched him on the head and began asking him to do tricks for her. Snuffles, who might have felt a little bad for scaring her earlier, did his utmost to perform to her liking. Soon enough, the room was filled with her laughter, which seemed to make Delacour relax quite a bit. In fact, the way their sister got along with the dog, and with the knowledge that Remus was a professor, made Delacour ask the man if he could make sure that their sister found her way to Headmistress Maxime to observe the trials. Remus accepted, of course, much to the girl’s joy, since that meant that she could play some more with the big but friendly dog. 

Chapter Text

Harry, Diggory, Krum and Delacour were collected by Mr. Crouch about one hour before the trial was set to begin. Harry petted Snuffles and hugged his dad tightly before hesitantly trailing after the rest of the champions. Remus smiled and waved, putting on a brave act as his son left, but Harry could see the worry in his eyes. Still, Remus had another person to look after for the moment, which probably helped him in that he couldn’t allow worry to overtake him. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Delacour had noticed the Professor’s need for distraction, and if that had been part of the reason as to why they had asked for his assistance in helping their sister. If that was so, then Harry was thankful. Besides, Harry needed to put his energy into what was about to come, and not allow himself to worry about others right now. 

The champions were led to a comparatively large tent on the outside of the arena. On the way there, they had seen part of the almost festival-like setup which surrounded the arena, with various scents crowding for dominance amongst the people. Still, Harry recalled it all as a blur of scents, noises, people and distractions. It might have been something fun and exciting had he not been an unwilling contestant, but as it was now, the surroundings blurred together into a mass of uncomfortable impressions. 

It was a relief to Harry to find himself in the champions' tent, where he at the very least didn’t have to see everything happening outside. The tent itself had a few chairs and tables in it, allowing for a comfortable resting space. There was also enough space in said tent to practice some spells, should anyone wish to. Added to that were some jugs of water placed upon the tables alongside cups, in case the champions got thirsty.

Mr. Crouch was joined by Mr. Bagman. The former looked rather tired and a little distant, while the latter was his absolute opposite. Mr. Bagman appeared like an excited child, who could barely remain still. His face was flushed and his eyes alive with happiness. The Quidditch World Cup commentator appeared much within his element of choice. 

“Are you ready to have the first task revealed to you, my champions?” Mr. Bagman cheered, rubbing his hands together in front of himself as he spoke. The gesture was clearly meant to be comedic, as people generally didn’t do things like that unless for theatrical effect. Nonetheless, it only served to make him appear childish. 

“Yes.” Delacour spoke up first, their hands placed upon their hips. They were not very impressed with the way Mr. Bagman was acting. For the coming trial, they had put their hair up in a tight bun, which served to accentuate the unimpressed look on their face. 

“Well, yeah! Of course,” Mr. Bagman stuttered a little as he continued. “The four of you will each be facing a wyvern, and your goal is to get past it to obtain a golden egg which it is guarding. There are more than just one egg in their nests, but you are only supposed to get to the golden one. You are not in any way supposed to harm the wyvern or the eggs, if you do, you will have to answer to some very angry dragon keepers!” He finished his speech with a little laugh, which nobody shared. 

“Mr. Lupin will go last, as he isn’t actually part of the competition. Mx. Delacour will be first, followed by Mr. Diggory and finally Mr. Krum,” Mr. Crouch began to speak, his voice was more hoarse than Harry remembered it, but his words were clearly pronounced, making it easy to follow what he was saying. 

Harry absently noticed that Krum wasn’t frowning quite as hard when Mr. Crouch spoke as he did when Mr. Bagman spoke. Mr. Bagman might be articulate, but he spoke rather fast, while Mr. Crouch spoke both slower and clearer altogether. It was probably easier for the two non-native English speakers to follow what the latter was saying. 

Mr. Crouch continued to speak, “Mx. Delacour will be asked to start the trial in about an hour, in the meantime, you should all take the time to think of an approach to the task. There is water for you to drink and should you need to use the bathroom, you can ask the Aurors outside for directions.” 

Delacour nodded as they were asked to start, determination settling upon their face in a way which made them remind Harry slightly of Draco. It was somewhat calming to see a reminder of his best friend in someone, in lack of the presence of that said friend. 

Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman left together, leaving the champions to work through their own plans. Harry knew exactly what to do, and in case that the Sleeping Charm didn’t work, he had Nott’s invention in his pocket. Harry had checked four times already that it was with him, and he checked once more as soon as the two adults had left the tent. It was still there, waiting for him to use. It made Harry feel calm to feel the item against his fingertips, even if he was also slightly worried about accidentally starting it whenever he touched it. 

“Lupin?” 

Diggory accidentally startled Harry as he approached him, almost making Harry hit the button to start the noisemaker in a fight or flight response. Harry spun around to face Diggory. His expression must have been somewhat panicked, as Diggory raised his hands to show that he was harmless. 

“Y-yes?” Harry stuttered out before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He let go of the noisemaker and straightened up. “Yes.” He repeated, as if that would somehow remove the earlier, embarrassingly nervous, response. 

Diggory lowered his hands. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry about my dad. He shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m really sorry that he couldn’t stop himself from almost saying bigoted things about your father.” 

“Oh, yes, that.” Harry nodded. He had been so unfocused for so long that it felt like Mr. Diggory’s comments had been spoken weeks ago. “Thank you for telling him off. I really appreciate it.” Harry didn’t say that it was ‘alright’ or that he ‘didn’t mind,’ he made certain that his comment was aimed towards Diggory himself, to communicate that Harry believed him to have done the right thing. 

Diggory leaned his head to the side, smiling at Harry. There was a slight sadness to his expression. “Dad works for the Ministry, specifically with Care of Magical Creatures. Dad has gotten some extra, misplaced aversion towards them because he believes them to not belong to his division. As I’m sure you know, werewolves have always been pushed back and forth between the divisions at the Ministry, with all of them arguing against having the responsibility for them.” Diggory’s expression turned slightly angry. “As if they weren’t people, but an inconvenience.” 

“Normally, I would be all for having this conversation with you.” Harry hurriedly spoke up before Diggory could continue. “But I’m really, really stressed right now, and I’m just not in a good mind-space to discuss injustices towards people like my dad right now…” Harry could feel his own legs tremble slightly, and his head and heart felt heavy with emotion. Had this been an average day, he might be able to have a conversation like this with a pretty much stranger like Diggory, but right now, it only threatened to break him down into a sobbing mess.  

Diggory nodded. “You are right. I’m sorry. Either way, rest assured that I won’t let dad speak like that again.” 

“T-thanks.” Harry mumbled before allowing himself to just sit back upon a chair and hide his face in his hands. Diggory’s words were a comfort, but Harry wasn’t necessarily in a state where he could be comforted. Especially not by a stranger. 

Then, he heard a familiar voice come from the opening of the tent. Added to it came another familiar voice. Harry raised his head to look towards the entrance, finding Draco and Hermione there, as they spoke to one of the Aurors about being allowed inside. Harry hadn’t noticed until now, but one of the guards was the same, bubbly and colorful woman who he had seen a few times last year when the Aurors patrolled Hogwarts. If he remembered correctly, this woman was the same one who had called Professor Snape ‘stick in the mud master.' She looked different than Harry remembered her, but her bright hair made her recognisable. 

“Look, I’m not supposed to let anyone bother the champions. I’m sorry, kids.” The Auror said, shaking her head. “You know what happened at the Quidditch Cup this summer.” 

“Because we are likely to be a danger to the champions.” Harry could hear on his tone of voice that Draco was raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Or set fire to the tent.”

“We just want to make sure our friend is alright.” Hermione filled in. 

“You might just be saying that you are friends with Mr. Lupin to get inside the tent to get a chance to drool over Mr. Krum.” The Auror objected again. 

“Hi, Hermione.” Krum had made it to the opening of the tent, where he politely greeted his friend with a small wave. 

“Hello, Victor. Can we please come inside to check on Harry?” Hermione immediately turned towards him with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course, come inside. Your friend’s name was… Mal…” Krum signalled for them to come in as he struggled to recall Draco’s name. It was very clear that the renowned Quidditch Champion knew that his status came with a few benefits and certain influence.

“Malfoy.” Draco gave him a relieved but not too big smile as he and Hermione stepped forward. 

The Auror stopped them once again. “I can’t just… Mr. Krum!” She huffed, then opened her mouth to say something more. 

However, she didn’t get to speak up again, as Harry more or less dashed past her and clashed into his two friends, hugging them both tightly. He momentarily forgot that Hermione wasn’t too comfortable with tight hugs in his need to be close to his friends. Both of them returned the hug, making them quite the collection of human limbs. Whatever objections the Auror had after that were obsolete, as all champions as well as the two guards realised that the fourteen year old child needed the support. The Aurors finally gave in and let Draco and Hermione pass, with the first one muttering about how it really was the right thing to do after all. 

Hermione pulled Harry over to a chair once they got back inside the tent, and started babbling in a whisper so as to not disturb the other champions and their preparations. Draco followed them after he had gathered some chairs for both himself and Hermione to put into their little corner. 

“We selected two people to go and see if we could check on you,” Hermione began. “Draco was a given, and then we thought that I would be a good choice to help you practice if you want to before the first trial. Oh, thank you.” She sat down upon the chair which Draco had gotten for her. “I hope it was alright that I came, you might have wanted Neville more, or Ron, but we still figured that maybe-” 

Harry leaned in to hug her again, this time, he remembered to not be too intrusive with his action. He pulled her head to his shoulder and hugged around her neck. “It’s great. You’re great. Thank you for coming.” 

Hermione clung to his shirt in return, burrowing her face against his chest as she began to sob. Harry hadn’t been prepared for it, but he hugged her back, feeling the tears overflow in his eyes as well. 

Next to them, Draco sat down and crossed his legs, watching with a slightly amused and concerned expression on his face. “Both of you definitely need to cry.” Draco concluded, perhaps more to himself than to them. Draco might very well be correct about that. Harry wasn't the only one who was bothered or hurt by the way the world had treated him for the past months, and worry for a friend out of empathy was still valid worry. 

The rest of the champions didn’t bother too much with them, with the exception of Krum, who pulled a chair over to join them. He didn’t presume to be welcome in comforting either Harry or Hermione, so he busied himself with speaking to Draco. The conversation soon ended up being about Quidditch, which didn’t surprise Harry in the least. From what little he heard, the two of them appeared to get along. Despite Harry knowing what Draco felt in regards to his awe for Victor Krum, it wasn't very surprising to find his best friend perfectly capable of masking his feelings behind polite attentiveness. 

It took Harry and Hermione a few minutes before they managed to calm down, but they did. Harry found that he felt oddly refreshed after having cried. He didn’t usually feel that way, but welcomed the feeling of not being a completely drained husk after letting the emotions take over. Hermione appeared happier as well, as she pulled some tissues from her pocket to blow her nose in. She then handed one to Harry so that he could do the same. 

Harry turned towards Draco, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. Today I’m not sobbing all over you I guess?” He chuckled to himself as he rubbed his neck, feeling oddly embarrassed all of a sudden. 

Draco returned the smile. “How unacceptable.” He joked back. “Did you meet with Professor Lupin earlier today? We exchanged a quick word but he was rather busy helping a girl in a wheelchair.” 

“We had breakfast together. That girl is Mx. Delacour’s sister.” Harry explained. 

Next to him, Hermione stood up to get some water, and returned with two cups, handing one to Harry. He thanked her and drank. The feeling of the cold water down his throat did wonders to clear his head further. 

For the first time, Harry felt like he could actually do this.

He could go out there, face the animal in the way that he had been taught to, and come back safely. It was similar to that drive and will to live that Harry had felt in his chest when he had called forth his patronus last year. He had after all faced many things which most people would call horrible. He had faced the Dark Lord, a basilisk, a moon-crazed werewolf, as well as a pack of dementors. He had not really been alone during any of that, and while he had thought himself to be alone in this, he now realised that he wasn’t. Harry took a deep breath, feeling as if his heart was steadying in his chest. Had he cast the Patronus Charm at this point, he would definitely have produced something very strong. 

Hermione beamed at him, Draco smiled softly but confidently, and Krum nodded approvingly. All of them could tell that Harry was feeling better, or at the very least, that he was no longer feeling as helpless. 

“But we are the press, of course you will let us in!” A loud voice cut through the silence of the tent, causing everyone inside to look towards the entrance. 

There stood the woman who had ‘interviewed’ Harry, he remembered her name as Rita Skeeter. She was yet again dressed in aggressive green colors. albeit a slightly different outfit, which made her red glasses and red nails all the more apparent. To her left hovered that green quill, which was ever faithfully writing upon a roll of parchment, and to the right of her stood her cameraman. Harry saw that Delacour muttered something under their breath as they noticed the woman, while Diggory shifted uncomfortably. 

Krum’s face became blank. “Stay back a little,” he told the group of friends as he got to his feet and approached Skeeter. 

Her face lit up as he approached. “Oh, Victor. Victory! Would you please tell these two ladies that I’m supposed to be interviewing the champions by now?” She batted her eyelashes at him, waving furiously while doing so. 

Krum nodded once before grabbing the fabric which functioned as a door to the tent, and pulled in closed in front of her face. He didn’t need to say anything, the gesture was enough to signal perfectly well that she wasn’t welcomed. 

Harry could hear the colorful Auror’s voice from the other side of the tent sheet, “you heard the man, lady, move along.” 

He smiled, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the tent offered Krum their version of a thankful expression. Krum shrugged them away, sat back down, and returned to speaking to Draco about Quidditch and training regimens. Harry thought that talking about something he knew well might be Krum’s way of relaxing. 

After a little less than an hour had passed, Mr. Crouch appeared in the tent again, signalling to all the champions but also to Harry and his friends, that the preparations were complete. Somewhere outside, as if from a distance, they could hear how Mr. Bagman addressed the crowd of spectators, but it was too far away for them to hear what he was saying. 

“Gather around please.” Mr. Crouch waved at them all to approach, which they did, with the exception of Draco and Hermione. The man didn’t even notice them, instead focusing his attention on the champions and Harry. “You will be collected when it is your turn to face your wyvern, they will all be different ones, nobody will steal from the same one twice. You will follow a tunnel through the stands of the arena, and reach the center where the creature resides. The arena is soundproof from the inside, meaning that we can hear you, but you won’t hear anything inside there. Further, when you are inside the arena, the outside will appear to be a normal forest, this is so as to not frighten the beasts. You will be judged on method, magic and the speed with which you completed the trial, and receive points accordingly. In summary, the insides are designed to keep the wyverns pleased, and while it may appear to you that you are alone in there, the trial is still observed.” He glanced towards Harry. “And for you, we will be ready to intervene at any point, and we will know what effect the contract with the Goblet of Fire has had on you.”

Harry licked his lips and nodded.

“Any questions?” Mr. Crouch looked them over, then nodded. “Very well, Mx. Delacour, are you ready to begin?” 

Delacour checked their bun, then nodded. “I am ready.” Their French accent became somewhat more pronounced as they responded, signalling to Harry that they were probably at least somewhat shaken but nonetheless determined. 

“Then come with me. I will come retrieve Mr. Diggory once Mx. Delacour has finished their trial, and your opponent has been settled in.” Mr. Crouch took the time to prepare Diggory as well before he exited the tent, followed by the Beauxbatons Academy champion. 

The tent became very quiet after Delacour left, with each champion sinking into their own thoughts. They didn’t know how long it would take for them to complete the trial, and they couldn’t see anything of it, which meant that while they could hear that the trial had started, judging by the distant wild cheers, that was pretty much all they knew.

The noises dimmed down, then Diggory was collected, and the noises became apparent once more. Then it repeated all over again when Krum was told to follow Mr. Crouch. Nobody returned to the champions’ tent, which made Harry all the more relieved that his friends were there with him, or he would have gone mad with the silence. 

At last, Mr. Crouch returned once more to ask Harry to join him. Only now did he notice Draco and Hermione, but the man simply told them to return to the arena, instead of remaining in the tent. Even Mr. Crouch seemed aware that the unwilling participant and minor had needed the support of his friends.

Harry squeezed both their hands before following Mr. Crouch out of the tent. Together, they walked alongside the outside of the giant arena in silence, with Harry struggling to keep pace with the older man. When he looked up towards the construction, Harry found that he couldn’t even see the audience behind all the wood. Mr. Crouch led him to an opening in the structure, which appeared to be leading into a forest on the other side. Harry saw a weak shimmering by the end of the tunnel, which reminded him of the barrier that he had seen back at the wyvern cage in the forest. There was no doubt in his mind that there was a draconic creature on the other end of this tunnel, and that made him feel slightly dizzy just to think of. 

Mr. Crouch turned towards Harry, his expression was empty as he gestured towards the tunnel. “Everything has been arranged for you.” He stated in so simple a manner that it surprised Harry. Mr. Crouch words sounded so rehearsed that they became oddly insincere. 

“Thank you… Mr. Crouch.” Harry bowed his head slightly before turning towards the tunnel. 

Still, he only managed to take a step forward before the man hastily grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise but it was enough of a desperate grab that Harry flinched. When he turned and looked upon the man, Mr. Crouch’s expression was desperate, his eyes wild. Harry stared back at him, feeling his heart race in his chest. That was not an expression which one wanted to see before going out to face a wyvern, and it was not an expression he had expected to see Mr. Crouch make. 

“Junior… I’m… I don’t… I shouldn’t have let you…” Mr. Crouch mumbled as his fingers clung to Harry’s shirt. “Don’t… I can’t…” 

“Let go.” In hindsight, Harry felt like he should have figured something better to say, but he couldn’t think of anything else for the moment. He raised his hand to try and pry the other off, but he didn’t need to. 

Mr. Crouch let go, his expression having returned to that distant, hard and tired look. He straightened up and looked down upon Harry. “I apologise.” He said simply. “I must have been confused. Good luck.” This time, he let Harry walk into the tunnel without objection. 

Harry glanced back once but the strange behavior of Mr. Crouch was soon forgotten by him as he came closer and closer to the lair of the wyvern. He could feel the scent of the greenery in front of him as he slowly crept towards the opening to the arena. Harry felt fear grow inside of him with every step, he could hear Crabbe’s words in his head, reminding him of how he had to win the Tournament for the sake of the Slytherin House. In the moment, Harry could only think of those words above all the evidence he had received from far more credible people who told him that he didn’t have to fight for glory. The blame burned more prominently than all the kind words, causing guilt to ache in Harry’s chest. 

The greenery was coming closer and closer, the verdant colors seeming to be the only thing existing within the dark tunnel alongside Harry and his panicked heartbeat. If the contract with the Goblet of Fire was legitimate, then Harry wouldn’t have a choice but to give his all in this trial. He checked his pocket once more for the noisemaker as he readied his wand with his other hand.

The greenery was coming closer still, even though Harry didn’t feel like his legs were moving. His friends had helped him prepare, he knew the Sleeping Charm by heart, so well that he could probably do it in his sleep. Harry began to repeat it in his head, careful not to move his wand while practicing the words nonverbally.

The greenery was right in front of him now, all he needed to do was take a few steps forward and enter the arena, and so the battle would begin. 

Harry stopped, his body throbbing with all kinds of emotions and worries as he hesitated before taking that last step into the greenery. He had to do it, he had to enter the green forest on the other side, where the wyvern was residing, guarding his eggs while waiting for his partner to return to him. It felt so hopelessly cruel to Harry that he was expected to steal one of those eggs from old Curly Tail and break the parent’s heart like that, all for a stupid trial to determine what school was the best at teaching magic. The poor beast had nothing to do with it, and Harry really, really didn’t want to fight him. Harry felt angry over the whole ordeal, angry at the Trimagus Tournament for deciding that the wyverns had to suffer for the mages’ entertainment. He felt angry that he had to participate in this madness. Yet, Harry had no choice. He was as powerless as old Curly Tail, faithfully guarding the eggs in his nest, knowing nothing about the thief which was forced to steal the wyvern’s perceived child. 

Harry had to take that last step, he had to fight. 

He had no choice. 

Or did he?

Harry realised that nothing was actually forcing him to enter the arena right at the moment.

He straightened up, then slowly took a step backwards. Nothing compelled him to move forward again. Harry took another step back, still facing the greenery. Still nothing. He began walking backwards, watching as the greenery shrunk back into a little window of green at the end of the dark tunnel. 

Harry found himself laughing out loud as he turned away from the path to the wyvern’s lair, and ran away towards the way he had come.

The contract wasn’t valid, he wasn’t bound to fight at all. He didn’t even have to enter the arena, he could just leave, which was exactly what he was doing. Harry ran faster, feeling his heart dance in his chest with excitement at the promise of freedom as he ran towards the opening opposite the greenery behind him.

He felt a little bad to just abandon everything like this, to not use Nott’s noisemaker or Charlie Weasley’s spell, to not listen to Crabbe or fight for the honor of Hogwarts or Slytherin, but it didn’t matter. Harry wasn’t bound to compete in the Trimagus Tournament. He couldn't be forced to participate against his will. He wouldn't have to experience uncomfortable and dangerous things for the sake of other people's entertainment and desires, people who weren't forced to work for any of it themselves, and not forced to experience it first hand. It might not be safe to leave the competition altogether, but he could at the very least forfeit the tasks, probably, he felt like he could, like nothing was stopping him from doing what was best for himself. 

Harry more or less flew out of the tunnel and into the light of the day. He hadn’t been stopped at all, nothing had forced him to compete. Harry raised his hands towards the blue sky and the fluffy clouds which carelessly sailed in that ocean of blue. He let out a scream of victory, yelling towards the sky at the top of his lungs as his happiness got too big to contain within himself. 

“I forfeit! I forfeit the first trial!” He yelled as loud as he could, as he didn’t have any other option but to let it all out. It felt even better to scream than it had to cry, even more empowering than to simply wave his arms at the sky. “I forfeit!” He yelled again as the excitement continued to threaten to make him burst. 

Harry breathed hard, feeling the sweat under his armspits and upon his forehead as he stood with his arms raised, still holding his wand. He then looked around and realised that there was nobody around to hear him forfeit, which might have been as well, as his display of happiness was rather embarrassing in hindsight. With heating cheeks, Harry licked his lips, looked around, then began to jog back towards the champions’ tent where he planned on asking the Aurors for help to properly forfeit in front of someone who would acknowledge it to the rest of the participants, audience, and the judges.  

The whole event proved, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wasn’t Harry Potter, as the contract with the Goblet of Fire would have been inescapable if that had been the case, or so all the adults around him had kept informing him.

No, he wasn’t Harry Potter. He was Harry Lupin, the proud son of a werewolf. 

Chapter Text

The people who gathered in the champions’ tent with Harry were all celebrating the fact that Harry didn’t have to compete. The collective worry of all of them exploded into cheers and happiness that Harry would be alright, and that the Trimagus Tournament from here on wouldn’t be about Harry having to manage, but that he would be safe from there on. 

Remus was endlessly relieved, so much so that Harry thought that his dad would cry, but somehow he managed not to, or at the very least when Harry was looking. Professor Snape was there as well, Harry didn’t know if he had come as the Head of the Slytherin House or if he had accompanied Remus as his partner, but he was happy to see him. Snuffles was right with the teenagers, who were all speaking over one another in happy exclamations as they surrounded Harry, congratulating him on being able to forfeit the first trial. Over these human voices rose Snuffles’ barks as he ran around in circles in the tent. 

Draco was the closest to Harry, with Hermione being on his other side. Neville, Ron and Nott were in front of him, Blaise was somewhere behind him alongside Lovegood, Ginny and Creevy, the two young Gryffindor students had somehow managed to join when the older Gryffindors had left the stands to join Harry in celebration. To Harry’s surprise, Goyle had joined his fellow Slytherin students and was cheering equally loud as everyone else over Harry’s freedom, while the adults stood back a bit. That was until Hagrid came storming inside, demanding that he would get to shake Harry’s hand for being the only one of the champions to not engage with the wyvern. Harry was glad to shake his hand, even if the result had his fingers ache slightly. 

It felt like a dream. A wonderful, happy, unreal dream. Everyone appeared to be equally happy and relieved for Harry’s sake. Harry himself felt as if he had been trapped in a cold and dark space with limited oxygen, but was now free and could breathe properly for the first time in years. For the first time since October, Harry felt unapologetically happy. 

Afterwards, Harry really didn’t remember a lot of the rest of that day. It all rather blurred together into a happy memory with an underlying feeling of finally being fine. He was informed by somebody that Delacour had scored the highest points in the first trial, thus placing first. They had used a Sleeping Charm to put the wyvern to sleep, therefore winning high points with the judges both for the magic used and the lack of violence employed. They would be celebrating with their fellow Beauxbatons students that evening, alongside their sister. 

Harry learnt from his dad that said sister was named Gabrielle, and that the girl in question was not approving of all the stairs at Hogwarts. However, her wheelchair had been enchanted to hover whenever she encountered difficult terrain, such as stairs or otherwise bumpy ground. All she needed was someone to push her wheelchair, as she couldn’t actually wheel it around once the hovering spell was activated. This meant that in general, Gabrielle Delacour was fine, but in need of someone to help her move around, especially when climbing stairs. Nott would later find a time to ask the girl about her wheelchair and learn that it was created out of a combination of magic and certain muggle technology, with some form of mechanic which folded the wheels in under the chair when the hovering magic was triggered, making sure that they weren’t harmed once the chair was hovering. The chair couldn't hover all the time since that would make it impossible for her to move anywhere where Muggles might spot her. It also meant that Gabrielle Delacour’s general position, or height, in the chair didn’t constantly change, as that would likely have triggered motion sickness. 

Further, Diggory placed second in the first trial. He had conjured a dog to distract the wyvern. However, this had led to fighting between the animal and the semi-animal, resulting in higher stress levels for the wyvern, alongside some minor injuries. This wasn’t something that the judges celebrated with overly high scores, but the impressive magic and the final time made up for it in terms of points.

Krum had placed last, he had summoned his broom from somewhere outside the arena to fly around the wyvern and grab the golden egg. This had meant that his broom crashed through the magical barrier of the constructed cage, scaring both the wyvern and the audience. However, in the end, he got comparatively low points because the magic he had displayed wasn’t that impressive or effective, not to mention that it had taken quite some time for the broom to arrive. By the time Krum had gotten said broom, Delacour had already retrieved the golden egg during their trial. Harry, of course, got zero points, as he wasn’t actually competing, and had forfeited on top of that. 

By the time Remus and Snuffles had to go back home, Harry said goodbye to them both, and followed his friends back to the Slytherin dormitory where they proceeded to celebrate until they pretty much fell asleep where they stood. 

Hermione, Neville and Ron broke the rules by spending the night in the Slytherin dormitory without Professor Snape’s permission, and it cost both Houses fifteen points each for disobedience. They were all comparatively certain that the Head of the Slytherin House wouldn’t have refused them if they just asked, but as it was, the removed points were a punishment they couldn’t really argue against. As for the younger students, they hadn’t spent the day celebrating with them, but had to go back to their own lives and duties. Thus, the group that celebrated into the night consisted of only fourth year Slytherin and Gryffindor students. 

Crabbe hadn’t returned to their dormitory that evening. They would later learn that he had taken Nott’s old bed in his assigned dormitory, to escape their celebrations. However, nobody really minded Crabbe’s absence, least of all Nott. It was very fair on Crabbe’s part to not want to be bothered by them throughout the night, even if his avoidance probably had more to do with Harry forfeiting the trial. 

That night, Nott slept in Harry’s bed, curled together with Ron, both of them having crashed after a sugar high. Harry slept with Draco, as had become routine. Blaze had politely asked Neville to sleep in his bed, which Neville had agreed to, although the two of them had not ended up sharing blankets. Hermione, being the only young woman of the group, had been offered Goyle’s bed while he slept in Crabbe’s, as he was the only one comfortable enough with Crabbe to actually borrow his bed. Hermione very thankfully accepted the offer, and would later report to Goyle that she had been very comfortable during the night. All in all, once everyone had tired enough to fall asleep, nobody had the energy to be all that picky about where they slept. 

The next day, Harry awoke with a slight headache but luckily, he had a warm Draco to push his forehead against to try and amend said headache. It worked a little bit, but not as much as washing his face with cold water, which Harry would do a little later that morning. 

After being reprimanded by Professor Snape and having their House points removed, the group sleepily but happily made their way towards the Great Hall to have a very late breakfast. Nobody, with the exception of Hermione, felt all that bad about losing points, although she quickly forgot about her troubles, as their owls had been waiting for them in the Great Hall and wasted little time to deliver their respective mail so that they could leave for the Owlery. Nott caught his copy of The Quibbler with his face, Blaise caught his copy of The Daily Prophet expertly, while Hermione fumbled with her copy for some time before finally catching it properly. Draco missed his copy of the newspaper completely, and had to bend down to pick it up, which he did graciously. 

“Oh, cool. The Quibbler is running a special on Gilderoy Lockhart’s documented lies that he put in his books.” Nott removed the newspaper from his face to look at the front page. He snorted. “‘No comment from Mr. Lockhart could be taken.’ Yeah no, I bet, not with him being locked up in Azkaban for his crimes.” He looked up at Blaise as the group moved towards the Slytherin table. “What is the mad ol’ Prof saying?” 

Blaise looked up from having skimmed through the front page. He glanced towards Draco before answering Nott. “It seems that in addition to reporting about the results of the first trial… The newspaper interviewed Lucius Malfoy about the Trimagus Tournament as a whole.” 

“What?” Draco blinked, then stopped mid-step to unfold his copy to have a look at the cover of the newspaper. 

There were three pictures upon the front page, and three different stories which headlines were silently yelling up at Draco and Harry, who leaned in to see if Blaise’s words were true. The biggest picture depicted Fleur Delacour, raising their golden egg above their head, as Diggory awkwardly stood to behind them to the right, holding his egg in front of him. He looked happy, but somewhat out of place. Next to Diggory but behind Delacour stood Krum, holding both his broom and his egg while he glanced off into the distance. Most people looking at the picture would find that Krum looked annoyed or angry, but Harry realised that he must have struggled a lot with differentiating noises at the moment when the picture was taken, as the three people were surrounded by a cheering crowd. The headline above the three champions read ‘Delacour Victory! - Beauxbatons Academy places first in Trimagus Tournament first task’ with the first letters being bigger than the following sentence.  

However, underneath that headline, just like Blaise had said, there was Mr. Malfoy’s picture, small, but still upon the front page. He was sitting in Narcissa Malfoy’s tea room, which Harry recognised due to the furniture and the fireplace which were both visible in the photograph. Mr. Malfoy was dressed in his usual style of expensive looking attire, sitting cross legged in Mrs. Malfoy’s favorite armchair, while smiling politely towards the camera with his hand resting upon his cane. Every now and then the moving picture would shift to look away from the camera, likely focusing on whoever was interviewing him. Mr. Malfoy would nod, listening to words inaudible for the reader, while remaining the very picture of sophisticated attentiveness and political professionalism. The headline above the man’s photograph read ‘Newly instated Hogwarts Governor addresses the Trimagus Tournament. More on page 8.’ 

To the right of Mr. Malfoy’s picture was a picture of Charlie Weasley, standing outside the dragon cage. He was awkwardly smiling at the camera, while shifting between thumbs up and the victory sign, which he displayed one after the other in an endless loop of uncertainty. Next to his picture, a small headline stated ‘Dragon Keeper on myth of Wizard VS Dragon. more on page 10.’

Draco began to turn the pages to get to the interview with his father, but Harry gently encouraged him to sit down before he started reading. Draco looked about, realised that Harry was right, and proceeded to sit down before starting to read, thus disappearing behind the newspaper without even acknowledging that there was breakfast in front of him. In lack of other ideas of what to do while he waited, Harry poured himself and Draco a cup of tea each, before passing the teapot to Neville so that he could pour some for Hermione and Blaise, both of which had also disappeared behind their copies of The Daily Prophet. 

Ron and Nott glanced at one another where they sat together beside Blaise. Neither of them looked sure of what to do, and the silence wasn’t something either of them enjoyed dealing with. 

“Uh… how is the Lockhart article?” Ron asked. 

“Uh, good. It’s, you know, nice that they try to actually correct misinformation.” Nott responded. His copy of The Quibbler lay uponened between them.

“Yeah. Lockhart was a tool. Good thing that he’s locked up for his crimes.” Ron agreed in a stiff manner as he poured himself some coffee.

It was rather evident that the two didn’t know what to talk about, and ended up sounding like performers who were trying to cover for an actor who was late in coming up on stage. Although the two performers in question had never had to improvise before. 

Hermione placed her copy of the newspaper down, causing all teenagers without a copy of The Daily Prophet to worriedly lean over to see her expression. To their great relief, she didn’t look upset, in fact, she looked more relieved than they did. 

“It’s not anything bad.” She looked towards Harry with a smile as she handed him her newspaper. “It’s actually… Dare I say, kind of, really, good?” 

She looked towards Blaise to confirm, as the teenager was just lowering his newspaper. 

“Yeah. I'd say that it’s good.” Blaise agreed with a nod. 

Harry accepted Hermione’s copy, and turned to page 8, where he was met with another, much bigger photo of Lucius Malfoy in the Malfoy tea room. Harry licked his lips and began to read, feeling his heart beating oddly fast in his chest as he did. 

NEWLY REINSTATED HOGWARTS GOVERNOR ADDRESSES THE TRIMAGUS TOURNAMENT

Lucius Malfoy, reinstated Hogwarts Governor and the Head of Hogwarts PR has agreed to discuss the Trimagus Tournament with The Daily Prophet, and, according to Mr. Malfoy, addresses some public concerns in regards to the Tournament on Hogwarts part. (The Prophet and the Ministry reminds the reader that the Head of Hogwarts PR does not speak for the British Ministry of Magic.) 

(Mr. Malfoy met with his interviewer in the late afternoon, after the Trimagus Tournament's first task began, to discuss some public concerns about the events. Mr. Malfoy speaks to The Prophet as the Head of Hogwarts PR, a position which has newly come into function through the Hogwarts Board of Governors.)

Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly tell the readers who you are and what you do? 

My name is Lucius Malfoy, I am a landowner and I have recently been reinstated as a governor in the Hogwarts Board of Governors. With the Trimagus Tournament currently taking place in Britain, the Board found themselves somewhat lacking in that it has not yet publicly addressed the concerns of the British mage community, and so I was asked if I wished to return to the Board in the form of the Head of Hogwarts PR. Which is a newly created position within the Board itself. 

(He smiles, asking if the interviewer minds not asking more about the duties of his position, as he finds the time short and the position self explanatory.)

Of course. The public has been asking about the safety measures taken by Hogwarts to ensure the safety of the students and the people visiting the trials. Especially since the safety measures taken at the Quidditch World Cup have been acknowledged to be lacking.  

The safety is primarily handled by the Ministry of Magic, not by the Hogwarts Board of Governors. With that being said, rather than the usual expected security, we have worked together with the Ministry to assure Auror protection at the events. Further, nobody without a purchased ticket will be allowed onto the school grounds, meaning that the available space will not be overcrowded and thus providing a security risk.

(Mr. Malfoy explains patiently, all the while appearing calm and pleasant.)

The public is concerned about the appearance of a fourth champion, what is the Board’s opinion on these surprising events? 

Many measures were taken to ensure that only students who were capable and of a certain age would be able to enter their names into the magical artifact known as the Goblet of Fire. It was through this process that accomplished mages such as Mr. Krum, Mx. Delacour and Mr. Diggory were chosen to compete. However, magical artifacts are fickle, and the older they are, the more they tend to cause complications upon use. The tradition of employing the Goblet of Fire for the ritual of choosing was a mistake, the Board acknowledges this fully and will not permit further use of the Goblet in any future Trimagus Tournaments. We regret that such a young student has tragically been involved in the Tournament, but as we do not yet fully know the effects of the magical contract that was created by the use of the Goblet of Fire, the situation has been most troublesome for everyone. Most of all the child in question. 

Why is Harry Potter allowed in the Tournament to begin with?  

(Lucius Malfoy frowns at this question, and sits himself up somewhat before answering.) 

I feel that it is my duty as a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and the Head of Hogwarts PR, to correct this misunderstanding in regards to Harry Potter. 

(He stops to allow the interviewer to take his words in.) 

Namely that there is in fact no Harry Potter involved in this tournament. As a matter of fact, the child who has been caught up in it is named Harry Lupin, and it is by this very distinction of identity that he has been revealed to not be bound by the Goblet’s magical contract, as was previously feared. Young Mr. Lupin was not ‘allowed’ in the Trimagus Tournament, he was forced to remain because it was feared that refusal to oblige the contract might cause the boy physical or magical harm. 

I’m afraid I don’t quite follow. Are you saying that there is no Harry Potter? 

(Mr. Malfoy leans forward as he answers, locking eyes with the interviewer.)

What I am saying is that, as the Lupins are family friends of the Malfoys, I find myself shocked both as a friend and as a mage, by the British mage community’s continuous harmful behaviour when it comes to their application of Harry Potter, the symbol, to Harry Lupin, the person. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, has had a profound impact on all our lives, and for putting an end to a reign of terror, we are him ever thankful. However, young Mr. Lupin is not that symbol, he is a living, breathing person, whose continuous exposure by Rita Skeeter has caused the boy to have to face issues which we, as adults, and as a community, shouldn’t force upon a mere child. The article written by Skeeter was slander, completely unrepresentative of the boy whom I personally know, and it has contributed to this false idea of what Harry Potter is. In fact, the mention of Harry Potter completely removed the focus on the Trimagus Tournament and its champions, to what I believe was quite the outcry of the mage community as well as the champions. 

How will further trials proceed, now that it has been revealed that the fourth champion can resign from the trials? 

That will be discussed with Mr. Lupin in the future, but I am imagining that he will resign from the following trials as well. I am certain that The Daily Prophet will get to know in due time, but for the moment I want to stress that the Hogwarts Board of Governors, as well as those in charge of the Trimagus Tournament, wishes only for Mr. Lupin’s continued safety. As a personal wish of mine, I’d hope that this will be the last time that Mr. Lupin is mentioned in the newspapers, so that he may focus on his studies at Hogwarts in peace and might allow this whole event to become but an unpleasant memory. 

Are there any other concerns about the Trimagus Tournament that you would wish to share with the readers? 

I would simply seek to remind the visitors and observers of the trials to bring their trash to the designed trash bins. After all, they are primarily adults attending school grounds, and littering above the age of twenty is shameful. At least children have an excuse, adults should indeed know better. 

Thank you for your time, Mr. Malfoy. 

Thank you, The Daily Prophet , for allowing me this chance to address the concerns of the public in the words of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. 

Harry looked up from the newspaper and found that Neville was reading the article as well, while Ron and Nott were huddled together around what appeared to be Blaise’s copy of The Daily Prophet. Hermione and Blaise were looking at Harry, but Harry found himself looking at Draco. Draco’s gaze found Harry’s, and the two of them simply stared at the other as they tried to process what they had actually just read. 

Draco slowly raised a hand up to touch his own lips, then covered them with his hand. He sat like that for about two seconds, still staring at Harry, before a weak laugh broke through the wall he had built between his lips and the world. Draco’s eyes were slightly wet, but he was by no means crying. “I can’t believe he did that… Father… He… I just can’t believe…” 

Harry chuckled as well, shaking his head in disbelief. He felt his heart almost tremble in his chest, his stomach feeling warm with happiness and a strange inclusion of pride. It felt weird to be proud of an adult, but the feelings which wrestled around inside of Harry had no other name but pride. “We’re family friends now, can you imagine?” 

Lucius Malfoy had stated in an interview aimed at the entire British mage community that his Pureblood family were friends with a known werewolf. When Draco had demanded that his father show that he had changed, Mr. Malfoy had apparently decided to go above and beyond. Not to mention that the man had done what Harry could not, and enforced to the world that his name was Harry Lupin, and that Harry Potter was but a symbol. Both of those things were incredible on their own, but together, they were almost unbelievable. 

Harry and Draco continued to only look at one another, and chuckle weakly as they found themselves at a loss for words. Both of them shared the same happiness, although Draco’s disbelief and relief was far more present than Harry’s. 

“He didn’t tell me that he was reinstated as a governor. This is the first I hear of it.” Once Draco had regained control over his laughter and expression, he lowered his hand to simply smile at Harry. “I could never have dreamt that he would… That father would…” He trailed off again, his happiness visible to anyone who even glanced his way. 

It made Harry incredibly happy to see his friend like this. Draco’s happiness made him at least twice as beautiful, the way his thin lips were pulled back to reveal more of his teeth than usual, the wrinkles which formed at the corners of his eyes and forehead when he smiled, and the way his eyes seemed to shine as he leaned his head slightly to the side made him appear almost otherworldly. Harry’s brain suddenly toyed with the idea of kissing him. His mind produced theories about what Draco would do if he just leaned in and pushed their lips together, painting beautiful, happy pictures of shared affection. When Harry realised what was happening, he quickly backtracked his thoughts until he was back to thinking about how much Draco’s happiness comforted him. 

“May I have my newspaper back, Harry?” Hermione spoke up, reminding Harry of the fact that the world was still there, even if his head had escaped to someplace else. 

“Uh… Y-yeah…?” Harry found that he was still holding on to The Daily Prophet and returned it to her. He made a note to himself that he wanted to read the article about Charlie Weasley too, but figured that he could do that alongside Draco, rather than stealing Hermione’s newspaper. 

“Thank you.” She grabbed it, leaning past Draco to accept it. Draco, in turn, leaned back to allow the exchange to be smoother. Almost as soon as it was returned to her, Hermione disappeared behind the newspaper once more. 

“Here.” On the other side of the table, Neville returned Draco’s copy of The Daily Prophet which he had borrowed. 

“Thanks.” Draco accepted it. In doing so, he happened to look at the table. “Oh… who gave me tea?” 

Opposite of Draco, Neville nodded towards Harry, upon which the blonde wizard smiled at Harry and thanked him. Harry waved his gratitude away, although his cheeks heated slightly. 

After their collective realisation that Lucius Malfoy was trying hard to earn his son’s affection back, the group had a relatively calm late breakfast. Ron and Nott read The Quibbler, speaking up every now and then about Lockhart. Their reasonings mostly ended up on questions about how anyone had actually believed him in the first place. 

Draco and Harry read Charlie Weasley’s article together while eating breakfast. Harry felt a little embarrassed to be so close to Draco after having had stray thoughts about kissing him, but Draco didn’t seem to notice at all. Underneath the table, Draco’s expensive and slightly pointy shoe absently played with the end of Harry’s trouser leg, which made it a little harder for Harry to read. Not impossible, just slightly harder. 

DRAGON KEEPER SPEAKS UP ON THE MYTH OF MAGE VS DRAGON

Charlie Weasley, graduate of Hogwarts and current dragon keeper spoke to The Daily Prophet yesterday about the wyverns which appeared in the first trial of the Trimagus Tournament. Mr. Weasley, currently employed by a branch of the Ministry of Magic and selected spokesperson for the Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary, was being interviewed as an effort by the Ministry to keep the members of the mage community informed about the details and efforts behind the Trimagus Tournament. 

(A cage housing the wyverns seen at the first Trimagus Tournament trial was built inside the Forbidden Forest. The open cage only contains male specimens of wyverns, as the males are less violent than the female ones. The spacious cage allows them to roam free to a certain extent, ensuring the health of the wyverns and reduces the overall impact that the draconic creatures have on the environment. The interview with Mr. Weasley took place outside the cage, safely out of reach from the wyverns.)

Good day, Mr. Weasley, would you tell us who you are and what you work with? 

Hi. I’m Charlie Weasley, a dragon keeper, not a tamer, mind you, dragons cannot be tamed and neither can draconic creatures. Moreover, they don’t deserve it, which is even more important. I currently work for the Trimagus Tournament committee. I’m usually working as an employee at the Romanian Draconic Rescue, although I’m currently an educated volunteer and spokesperson for Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary here in the UK. 

Tell us about the wyverns in the cage. 

We have four wyverns in the cage, all of them are male. There is one of them for each champion, and an older boy for Mr. Lupin. It might seem unfair, but as he isn’t actually qualified to be a champion, his safety is more important. Besides, he’s not getting any points for the trial, this stuff really doesn’t matter as long as he is safe. (For more information about the first trial, see pages 4-6.) 

Either way, these boys are all from the Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary, they aren’t from the wilds, but sheltered animals which, for various reasons, cannot be released. This makes them less aggressive and more used to humans, which makes them slightly less deadly to face than a wild animal would be. That doesn’t mean that these beasts are tame or safe, but they are safer. (He emphasises the -er part.)

Why were wyverns chosen for the first task? 

Yeah, alright, so here is the thing about wyverns, dragons and draconic creatures; there is this idea that facing dragons is a test of bravery. We see it in Muggle history with knights with swords and pikes slaying dragons, and we see it in magic history where brave mages slay dragons with their awesome magic. Yet, here is the thing: you can’t slay a dragon or draconic creature. It will slay you. They are just that powerful. That really isn’t a challenge, it is simply the truth. Not to mention, there is absolutely no need to fight a dragon, unless it becomes a real problem for a community. There is this misconception that we as dragon keepers fight dragons but what we do is actually to put them to sleep and relocate them. Either way, dragons and draconic creatures are not monsters, they are animals. Killing them for glory is the same kind of messed up that makes cruel people chase after unicorns or make Muggles chase tigers and elephants for no reason. It makes me sick to think that dragons and draconic creatures have become challenges for mad people to hunt throughout history, and when the animal becomes defensive or kills someone, it is labelled a monster by other people for doing nothing but trying to keep itself safe. (He adds with passion and anger, balling his fists.)

What is the difference between dragons and draconic creatures? 

The line between them is rather diffuse, and it is debated by scholars, however, the general rule is that anything with less than four legs, and that is generally smaller than a hut, is classified as a draconic creature, while a four legged beast that can breathe fire is almost always a dragon. It varies from person to person. A wyvern is classified as a draconic creature primarily due to their bipedalism and their size. The wyverns behind me have acidic breaths, but there are subspecies of wyverns who can actually breathe fire, but I’m getting off topic. 

Dragon keeper is a very popular dream job for many young mages. What would you say to the people who dream of having a job like yours? 

I was one of those kids! (He laughs heartily.) While I understand the appeal, and while we do need new generations of dragon keepers to keep these magnificent creatures from extinction, I want to state that it is a dangerous profession. I have known many great men, women, and people outside and within the spectrum of gender, who were lost because they misjudged something about a creature. I myself have many scars after I received injuries during work. However, if you want to support our efforts and our work without being directly involved with the creatures, many draconic sanctuaries and the dragon focused organisations need further funding to continue doing what we do. Your support would be invaluable to us. Thank you. 

Thank you for your time, Mr. Weasley. When will the wyverns be taken back to the sanctuary where they belong? 

No problem, we will be returning them beginning tomorrow. Nice talking to you. 

Next to Draco, Hermione put her copy of The Daily Prophet to the side and reached for another muffin with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Rita Skeeter has been fired from The Daily Prophet. There was a small little note at the end of the paper.” She bit into the muffin. “I shouldn’t be this happy, but it serves her right, even if they are using her as a scapegoat to escape blame for the article they published about Harry.”

“I’m glad that they fired her but it’s kind of irresponsible of them to just let her take the blame like that.” Neville sounded slightly disapproving as he stared down at the logo of the newspaper. 

“I’m expecting that a lot of my father’s words have been edited to say ‘Rita Skeeter’ instead of The Daily Prophet.” Draco agreed, his foot stopping its playing with Harry’s leg. “I might not know him very well, but I know that my father has never been one to mince words if he is dissatisfied. I can’t believe that he would blame the person who wrote the article in front of the newspaper which chose to publish it in that form.” He thought for a second. “Although that does of course not mean that he approves of her, but he wouldn’t blame only her.” 

Harry smiled a little shyly, still feeling butterflies in his stomach even after Draco stopped softly poking at him. “I feel a little bad to say that I feel a lot more relieved in general without her having any claim to me via The Daily Prophet.” 

“I feel relieved about that without any guilt.” Ron huffed, shaking his head. “She exposed you to that all on her own, she deserves what was coming for her.” 

Nott nodded. “The truth can’t be argued with.” 

He and Ron high fived in agreement, then both rubbed the palm of their hands in pain, as excitement had gotten the better of them. Blaise looked at them both with an unimpressed look, but the rest of the group were sympathetic towards their shared plight. Luckily, there was a lot of food to choose from which they could use as comfort food to ease their physical pain. 

The group of friends decided to have a slow day, which mostly consisted of relaxing and just spending time with one another. They sought to occupy a study room together. During their search they were joined by Lovegood who managed to sort of stray into their path, rather than seek to join them. Thus, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Nott, Blaise and Lovegood struggled to find a room which could fit them all, finally having to give up and gather together around a large table in the library. 

Ron and Nott remained by the table while the others went to search for a book to keep them occupied so as to not allow themselves to talk too loudly in the library. Harry and Draco strayed away together, as Harry just followed his friend without any real aim. Harry felt as if his mind was a pleasant buzz of emptiness, as the feeling of finally being able to relax after all the stress with the Trimagus Tournament had left him almost numb to the world. He picked a book at random from the same shelf as Draco without looking, then returned with him. 

However, when they returned they found Dobby by the table. He looked up once he heard Harry and Draco, upon seeing them his face lit up and his ears did a little twitch which would have been cute if Dobby had been an animal and not a person. 

“Mr. Draco Malfoy. Mr. Harry Lupin.” Dobby gave them a small bow, not of submission, but as a greeting. “Dobby was asked by Headmaster Professor Dumbledore to gather Mr. Harry Lupin at his office to discuss something about the Trimagus Tournament. He said that you need not worry about anything, and that the door is open so you may just come inside. Professor Potion Master Snape will be there as well.”

“Oh, ah… Alright.” Harry tried to hide his disappointment in being called away again when he really wanted to just relax for the day. 

Dobby noticed his aversion. “Headmaster Professor Dumbledore said it will not take too long.” 

“I see.” Harry didn’t quite believe it, but he wasn’t about to refuse a summoning from the Headmaster. He glanced towards his friends with a longing look forming on his face. 

“We’ll be here when you come back.” Draco promised him. He reached out to gently pull the book which Harry was holding out of his grip. In doing so, his fingers brushed against Harry’s, gently offering some silent support with their cold graze. 

Harry let go of the book, hoping that Draco didn’t notice his small shudder. “Thanks. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned towards Dobby. “Would you keep me company to the Professor’s office, Dobby?” 

The elf’s face lit up with excitement. “Me? That would be an honour!” He stopped to think for a second, then continued. “But not because Harry Lupin is famous, but because Dobby likes him as an acquaintance.” 

Harry smiled, wondering if the Malfoy family had taught the elf that word, or if he had picked it up at Hogwarts. Together, the two of them walked towards the Headmaster’s office, with Dobby happily chatting away about how happy he was that Harry didn’t have to compete in the Trimagus Tournament. Harry appreciated his concerns, and was happy to learn that Dobby’s company was becoming more and more tolerable every time they met. 

In the Headmaster’s office, Harry found himself in the company of the Hogwarts and Durmstrang Headmasters, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, the three champions, as well as Professor Snape and Mr. Bagman. Dobby excused himself by the entrance, leaving Harry to enter on his own. The Headmaster's office looked just the same as Harry recalled it, spacious and full of bookcases containing extravagant and simple magical objects, all of which were displayed with equal importance. Upon a shelf, Harry noticed the sleeping form of the Sorting Hat. Close to the Headmaster’s desk but not close enough to reach anything flammable, sat Fawkes the phoenix upon his stand. The atmosphere in the room was relaxed, with at least half of the people in the room drinking varying beverages from cups which Harry recognised from his previous years, when Professor Dumbledore had served him and his friends drinks from those very same cups. 

“Welcome, Mr. Lupin, thank you for coming.” Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry from over by his desk. “Would you like something to drink as we have a short talk about the coming task and the Yule Ball?” 

“I’d much enjoy something to drink, please.” Harry mimicked Dobby and bowed slightly towards the entire room in a greeting, before he moved to stand next to Professor Snape, giving him a short greeting as well. It was short because he didn’t want to take more time away from the rest of the group. The Professor returned the greeting with a polite nod. 

The Headmaster of Hogwarts nodded happily as a cup came hovering towards Harry. As it flew by the phoenix, Fawkes snapped after it in a playful manner. Harry took that to mean that the bird might be recently reborn, as the behavior seemed to be something a young bird would do. As Harry accepted the cup, he saw it fill with hot cocoa, and he knew from the scent that it would be just as delicious as the one his dad made for him. Harry happily sipped some as he listened to Mr. Bagman who began to speak. 

“Crouch is at home, being sick, so I’ll be speaking for the Ministry alone today. Great work yesterday everyone, you were all very impressive. The crowd loved your trick with the broom, Mr. Krum!” He cheered in Krum’s direction. 

After exchanging a quick word with Headmaster Karkaroff in Bulgarian, Krum turned towards Mr. Bagman. “Thank you.” 

To Harry, it was clear that the man and his student had gone through Krum’s usual routine of asking what someone had said so that he could answer. It made Harry rather happy to see that Headmaster Karkaroff seemingly had no objections or problems with repeating things for his student’s comfort and awareness. 

“And you two, both very quick, and the only real action came from the battle of the dog and the wyvern!” Mr. Bagman continued, addressing Delacour and Diggory as well. “I know the judges were a little hard on you, boy, but the combat made for some excellent entertainment for the audience.” 

“Ah, yes. For the audience.” Diggory crossed his arms, leaning on his hip as he looked Mr. Bagman up and down. “Good thing that they were entertained while I’m competing for the glory of the school. Couldn’t have it any other way.” 

Mr. Bagman recognised the disapproval in his voice, and quickly continued speaking “well! I suppose the three of you have tried to open your golden eggs then?” 

All three champions looked highly uncomfortable at the question, while Harry looked between them. Whatever was inside the egg, it wasn’t something that any of the older students had found pleasant. Harry felt a small wave of relief wash over him at the thought that he would never have to know whatever horrible thing was inside the golden egg. 

“You have until the 24th of February to figure out what the clue inside the golden egg is, and prepare yourself accordingly for the second trial. Best of luck!” Mr. Bagman clapped his hands together. Harry had expected that that would be the end of it, but the man continued to speak. “As for Mr. Lupin, we have all deemed it to be safer if you resign at the scene of the trials, as resigning before, or have you completely disqualified might come with some unforeseen magical consequences. In practice, this means that all you have to do is show up, resign, and then sit back and watch the trial unfold.” He nodded eagerly at Harry. 

Harry offered him a small, tense smile in return, one that was meant to look relaxed, but came off as stressed. Mr. Bagman didn’t notice at all, or if he did, he was better than Harry at hiding discomfort. 

“But that is in February, now in December, we have something quite more pressing to discuss, namely the traditional Trimagus Yule Ball!” Mr. Bagman paused for effect. 

This time, the champions looked between themselves with some manner of excitement. In the stress of being chosen as the champions and practicing for the first trial, they had forgotten all about the Yule Ball, despite technically knowing that it would be held this year. 

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke up. “The Yule Ball will be held after the start of the Winter Holiday break, on the 17th of December. The original idea was to only allow students from the seventh year to attend, but with the inclusion of Mr. Lupin into the Trimagus Tournament, we are considering expanding the ball to allow for all students from the fourth year up to attend. However, this is only if Mr. Lupin would wish to attend the Yule Ball.” 

Diggory quickly spoke up while Harry was still processing what the Headmaster had just said. “Wait, only seven year students? Can no younger students be allowed, even if invited by a seventh year?” 

Headmaster Karkaroff scoffed. “No, if there is a minimum age limit, it will not be bent for the sake of allowing students under that age limit to attend. What foolish type of system would that be? If a student is deemed too young, then that is not going to change just because they are taken to the ball by someone older. This is a ball, not a babysitting event.” 

“That is… a very honest way of putting it, Igor…” Madam Maxime shook her head as a slight expression of disapproval thinned her lips and eyes. “However, he is right. The age limit is set for a reason, and quite the many things need to be tweaked to allow more and younger students to attend, especially in terms of food and drink.” 

Harry was beginning to feel quite uncertain of everything. He glanced up at Professor Snape, mostly so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that Diggory was staring at him with an almost hungry, demanding expression. At least for being Diggory, who until then hadn’t looked like he wanted something before. 

“From a purely political course of action,” Professor Snape began, addressing only Harry. His expression was calm and professional, although as Harry was standing so close to him, he could see a slight hint of bitterness in his eyes. “You have quite a lot to gain from electing to go to the Yule Ball. Many of the students who have criticised your involuntary inclusion in the Trimagus Tournament would be given something out of it if you elected to go, as that would allow them to go as well. In summary, you going to the Yule Ball would allow many more students to go as well, and it would make them more pacified with you when they would otherwise be dissatisfied, childish as that may be.” 

“Because them being allowed to go to the ball because of me would make them feel like they have gained something as well?” Harry raised an eyebrow at the Head of his House, hoping that he had understood what Professor Snape was trying to say. 

The man nodded. “Indeed.” 

“Not to mention, after all the horror and stress you have been put through, we believe that we all owe you some fun and happiness. If you want it, of course.” Professor Dumbledore smiled happily at Harry, leaning his head to the side. “Why, when I was fourteen, I wanted nothing more to go to a ball.” A distant and pleased look entered his eyes as he glanced off into the distance. 

Madame Maxime sighed with a slightly dreaming look on her face. She appeared to think back to her own youth, perhaps even imagining a small version of herself who also desired to go to a ball. The Headmaster and the Headmistress were lost in their own memories for the moment, thus, neither of them noticed that Headmaster Karkaroff was staring at Professor Dumbledore with an expression of a man that couldn’t possibly imagine that the old man before him had possibly been a fourteen year old once upon a time. Mr. Bagman’s expression was much the same. Harry glanced at Professor Snape, whose memories of his youth, or any Yule Balls during that youth, didn’t appear to be what he wanted to think about for the moment. 

The silence lingered, which made Harry feel slightly insecure, but he still managed to gather enough courage to speak up. “May I think about it? The offer about the Yule Ball, I mean. I would like to discuss it a bit with my friends, to hear what they think.”

“Why would that b-” Headmaster Karkaroff began to object, but he was stopped by the Headmaster of Hogwarts speaking up. 

“As it would affect them as well, Igor, I believe that it would be very valid to hear what his friends think about the suggestion.” Professor Dumbledore smiled softly at the younger Headmaster. 

Headmaster Karkaroff rolled his eyes, but stopped talking. At the very least, he knew when he was outspoken. 

“I’m not trying to push you, Lupin, but I would much enjoy it if you think about going to the Yule Ball.” Diggory tried to not appear demanding with Harry, but there was a hint of longing or desperation in his voice. 

Harry wondered if he had a younger partner, and wanted to bring them to the Yule Ball. It would explain Diggory’s apparent desperation to allow younger students to attend. 

“It’s… It’s not that I don’t think that attending the Yule Ball sounds… tempting. And fun.” Harry glanced from Diggory to Professor Dumbledore. “But I would really like some time to think this over. When do I have to, uh, decide?” 

“We’d like an answer before the first of December.” Mr. Bagman smiled at Harry, nodding eagerly. “In the meantime, the three champions should seek to secure a partner, as they will be expected to open the Yule Ball with a dance. That applies for Mr. Lupin as well, should he decide to attend.” 

Harry bit his lower lip, feeling his heart sink in his chest. While he believed the ball to be a generally entertaining event, and would no doubt make for a memorable evening, the requirement of dancing in front of a large group of people made his head spin with fear. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Draco would beyond doubt know how to dance, and would definitely teach him if he asked. 

“There will be classes held to help students who are weak when it comes to dancing.” Madam Maxime smiled gently towards Krum, she apparently hadn’t noticed that Harry was nervous as well.  

Krum had been nervously chewing on his lower lip since dancing was mentioned, but he breathed out with relief when dance classes were mentioned. He opened his mouth to say something, but his words ended up being in Bulgarian. Krum realised his mistake, cleared his throat, before responding in English this time, “good.” 

Delacour smiled at Krum, leaning their head to the side with a slightly playful expression on their face. “I happen to be a very accomplished dancer, if you need extra lessons, you can always come to me. That applies to both of you.” They winked twice, once at Diggory and once at Krum separately.  

Krum nodded approvingly, then looked at the Durmstrang Headmaster. “Can we go with other champions so that we don’t have to find a partner?” 

“Krum, anyone would want to go with you, you won’t have any trouble finding someone…” Diggory put his hands on his own hips. “Really, can’t Delacour take us both and we’ll engage in an opening dance for three?” He chuckled, only half joking. 

Delacour chuckled, clearly not opposed to the idea of bringing the two young men to the Yule Ball as their dates. As Krum had suggested it in the first place, he evidently wasn’t against it. 

“That’s not very traditional.” Headmaster Karkaroff sighed while rubbing his chin. He looked towards the other adults, silently asking for help from them. 

“Tradition got Mr. Lupin stuck in the Trimagus Tournament in the first place.” Professor Dumbledore nodded approvingly towards the three champions. 

“Well, then it is decided.” Delacour stepped over to grab both the other two champions. “If Lupin decides to go to the Yule Ball, we will find other partners, but if he doesn’t go, we will go together and open the dance together. After all, if there are only seven years attending, we shouldn’t steal possible partners from others.” 

Diggory laughed and accepted the arm, smiling at the other champions. “That’s great. if it is you two, then Cho won’t be upset with me for going with someone else.” 

Krum actually smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, or an overly excited one, but it was a smile nonetheless. He accepted Delacour’s arm as well, nodding. “Great idea. I support it.” 

And with that, the three champions had decided the outcome of the Yule Ball and their partners. Headmaster Karkaroff and Mr. Bagman looked at one another with slight worry, but Professor Dumbledore and Headmistress Maxime both looked at the future generation with pride. Professor Snape nodded to himself, neither invested or disinterested. Harry found himself feeling very relieved that the three champions had made plans which allowed for him to make his own choices, and which didn’t demand a certain choice from him. In fact, the suggestion of Delacour taking both of the other champions meant that Diggory no longer felt as stressed about not being allowed to bring his younger girlfriend to the ball. 

The company remained in Professor Dumbledore’s office for a little longer, but the conversation was pretty much over. Harry finished his hot cocoa, thanked Professor Dumbledore for it, and excused himself from the Headmaster’s office to return to his friends. Harry made it out the door to the office and a few more steps before Krum caught up to him. 

“Lupin, can I have a second?” There was a small frown on his face which made Harry think that he might be slightly uncertain about something. 

“Yes, of course,” said Harry, stopping to give the older student his attention, despite him wanting nothing more than to return to his group of friends for a relaxing evening. 

“It will be quick,” Krum promised. “I was just… Thinking. Do you, as her friend, think Hermione might be able to help me with my homework? I am a little behind in some things, but I do not want to stress her out by asking too much of her. I need help with the English.” 

Harry felt how his own face turned into a soft smile as he heard Krum’s question. “I think that she would love to help you with your homework. And if she doesn’t already know the answers, I’m sure she’d still want to help.”   

Krum actually sighed with relief. “Good. I will ask her tomorrow.” With those words, he went back again, presumably to the Durmstrang Headmaster. 

Harry hurriedly made his way back to the library and his friends. The conversation really hadn't been that bad after all, Harry still felt passively happy. He even looked forward to hearing what his friends had to say about the Yule Ball and their own possible attendance. 

All in all, at least for the moment, things were good. Things were finally good. 

Chapter Text

It turned out to be a very easy decision to decide to attend the Yule Ball. 

Harry brought it up with his friends in the Slytherin dormitory first. He had decided against speaking about the Yule Ball in the library, as he expected his friends’ reaction to be noisy, and the last thing he wanted was for people to overhear and start rumors before Harry had decided on a definite course of action. He equally didn’t want them to be asked to remove themselves from the library for being too loud. 

Crabbe had remained in Nott’s old dormitory, and had apparently talked to Nott about switching beds officially. Thus, the environment was a very comfortable one to ask his fellow Slytherin students about their opinion on being allowed to the Yule Ball, alongside the rest of the fourth, fifth and sixth year students. 

It turned out that all of them thought that a ball sounded like the most amazing thing, and were very eager about being allowed to attend. Even Nott and Goyle, who Harry hadn’t been certain even liked events that required dancing, were enthusiastic about the idea. Draco and Blaise were both highly interested in being allowed to go to the Yule Ball, with Draco immediately informing Harry that he was more than qualified to teach Harry all the required dance steps. 

During breakfast the following day, Harry asked for Hermione, Neville’s and Ron’s opinions. After having received such approval from his fellow Slytherin students, he was a lot less worried about someone overhearing him, as he had probably already decided, but wanted to hear their opinion nonetheless. They were all generally supportive over the idea, even if Hermione became somewhat quiet and reserved on the topic. Harry assumed that to be due to nervousness, which in turn meant that he didn’t want to pry. Thus, he let her be instead of pressuring her for an answer. 

Throughout the day, Harry carefully tried to ask the opinion of some other House students, while making it clear to them that he was simply asking their opinion and promised nothing. While he didn’t really know a lot of people his age from the other Houses, he managed to speak to a few of them, the way people in the same class might address one another with some manner of respect and comradery, even if they didn’t quite know each other. Most of the conversations were stiff, but manageable. Harry found that a Hufflepuff student by the name of Justin Finch-Fletchly was about the only student his year who was even eager to talk to him, which Harry appreciated. 

He needed a reminder from Draco to recall that Finch-Fletchly was the very same person who Harry had saved from Missy the snake two years ago. Whatever anger and fear Finch-Fletchly had felt towards Harry back when he had heard him speak Parseltongue had somehow changed into more positive feelings. Harry was relieved that it hadn’t been the opposite. 

By the end of the day, Harry had gathered enough information from friends and fellow Hogwarts students that he felt entirely comfortable making the decision that he wanted to attend the Yule Ball. Before retreating to the common room for the day, Harry stopped by Professor Snape’s office to ask if he could forward Harry’s answer to Professor Dumbledore, which the man assured Harry that he would do. 

Harry was ever so terrified about the idea of opening the ball with a dance, but he decided that he could definitely manage if he just attended those dance classes. It wasn’t until much later that the terrifying duty of finding a partner to actually open the dance with hit him with full force. 

The next day, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was buzzing with the exciting news that the Yule Ball would allow attendance by all students from the fourth year and up, all thanks to Harry Lupin accidentally being chosen as the second champion of Hogwarts. The teachers informed the students about the additional dance classes, and the students seemed almost unable to speak about anything but what they would wear and who they wanted to attend the ball with. Many questions centered around gossip about who the three champions would ask to the Yule Ball, although most of that gossip concluded that Diggory would more than likely go with his girlfriend Cho Chang. 

Harry was very busy catching up with school. In his stress and discomfort up until the first trial, he had fallen behind quite some, and needed to focus if he wanted to catch up. It was rather a relief to be able to drown himself in work and not have to think about his obligations during the Yule Ball, or the fact that he didn’t actually have anything to wear as of yet. Still, all of that had to be removed from his mind to make space for his homework. Harry was assisted in his endeavours with school from Draco and Neville in particular, and Hermione when she had time over.

Hermione had appeared a little bit odd since it was revealed that the Yule Ball would allow for fourth year students and up. She had begun to avoid their group ever so slightly. Instead, she spent time with Krum, or went walking on her own. There appeared to be something weighing heavily on her mind. Harry asked Neville during one of their study sessions with only him, Neville and Draco if he knew what was wrong with Hermione, but the Gryffindor student politely asked that Harry and Draco let her be for a little longer, as she needed some space for the moment. When Ron and Nott later asked Neville the same question, he repeated what he had said to Harry and Draco. 

About a week after the Yule Ball had been announced, Nott sat down heavily by their group during dinner, and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice. He looked rather down, which was always a rare thing for Nott, especially in public. Ron and Nott were seldom apart these days, which made it a little strange to see Nott return from somewhere else without his comparatively new best friend. The two of them had even stayed away from Harry while he was catching up with school, as to not become a distraction, although they had both offered to let Harry read their homework, if he wanted to. While Harry hadn’t taken up on the offer, he appreciated it. 

Ron looked over his friend, then slid a bit closer next to him on the bench. “Hey, you wanna talk about it?” He asked carefully. 

Nott licked his lips, then bit the underside of them. Harry, Draco and Neville tried to not stare at him, as that might make him feel stressed. Lovegood, who had joined them as usual, stared out in space, also as usual. Hermione had already left to study with Krum in the library, and Blaise wasn’t in the Great Hall. 

“Blaise already had a date.” Nott said with a heavy voice, fighting back the emotions in his voice and face. “It’s not that I was… I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to, like, save himself for me or anything, but it was a little too hard to imagine that he’d say no that I… I guess… I just didn’t think of it.” He finally hid his face from view by placing his hands in front of it. “I’m not… Of course he’d have a date, he is sought after, after all… and all…” Nott continued to mumble. 

“Oh, a-ah…” Neville blinked down at Nott from the other side of the table. 

When Harry glanced his way, he realised that Neville was blushing. 

Neville raised a hand to his own mouth, covering it up. “I didn’t think that… I didn’t mean to, uh…” 

Harry, Draco and Ron looked between Neville and Nott, all of them feeling completely lost before Draco realised why Neville was acting so apologetic. 

“Blaise asked you to go with him.” Draco concluded in his normal voice, he sounded neither triumphant or displeased, but he wasn’t trying to hide his conclusion from Nott, even though it might upset him. If anything, Draco sounded just a little jealous. 

Neville glanced at Nott, who hadn’t reappeared from behind his shield of hands. “I, yes, he asked me. I thought that none of you would have trouble finding a partner, and I didn’t want to go alone, so I said yes. I was really flattered, Zabini is… very handsome.” Neville was blabbering a little bit. 

Harry felt a slight panic rise in his chest at the thought of asking someone to the Yule Ball, and busied himself with downing all the water in his glass as fast as he could. Thus, he didn’t notice when Nott removed his hands from his face. 

“I’m not… upset or anything… with you, Longbottom.” His emotions made it hard for Nott to speak, but he bravely faced the challenge with slightly wet eyes. “I’m not upset with anyone, just with myself for refusing to consider possible outcomes. Maybe it’s my period coming on to me, and making me sadder that I normally would be…” He mumbled at the end as a small sniffle left his lips. 

“You have the right to be equally upset no matter what time of the month it is.” Draco assured Nott. 

Everyone around the table nodded encouragingly, even Lovegood, who wasn’t really following the conversation in favor of observing the candles float about around the ceiling. 

“T-than… I mean thanks…” Nott mumbled, looking at the very least a little happier. 

“Hey!” Ron suddenly spoke up, probably a little louder than he had planned on, judging by the shocked look on his own face. “I’m not, I mean, I don’t think… I’m going to manage to find anyone to go with. I’m just… too chicken, and I don’t know a lot of people. So, if you want to, we could go together, as friends, I mean.” Ron continued to stutter out. “But if you find someone else, I’m not going to hold you to it. I just thought that, you know, maybe that would make you feel better? We could just have the ball be a fun friend thing? Unless you find someone you actually want to go with.” By the time he ended speaking, he was so red that Harry felt like anyone touching Ron’s face might get burned. 

“H-huh?” Nott blinked at Ron. 

The two of them ended up staring at one another before both quickly looked away as if they had planned it, but they clearly hadn’t. 

“You… you know what? That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Going for fun, I mean.” Nott slowly began to smile, as he looked back at Ron. 

“Oh really?” Ron stared at his friend in disbelief before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, yeah!” 

“Yeah!” Nott agreed. 

“Yeah!” They both cheered as one, grabbing each other’s hands to shake them, all four of them at once, before they both started to laugh. 

Lovegood woke up from her trance and gave them an applause, much to both teenagers’ embarrassment and amusement. 

A troubled expression spread over Ron’s face as he looked between his friends. “But… I don’t know if I will have anything to wear… My family isn’t exactly well off.” In a small voice, he added. “It might be embarrassing to go with me…” 

Harry understood that fear very well, he felt it to the very core of his being, although he had yet to allow himself the realisation that he was that worried about his future appearance at the Yule Ball. 

Neville spoke up, causing everyone to turn towards him. “My dad has a lot of old clothes that he isn’t using, and some things which have been saved for me but I’m not really using them either. I’m sure that there is something in his wardrobe that you can borrow.” 

“R-really?” Ron looked hopeful. “Are you sure your family would be alright with it?” 

“My grandma would allow it, she might not always be the kindest, but she understands and preaches the importance of appearance a lot.” Neville laughed, slightly nervously, before he turned towards Harry. “Of course, you get to borrow something too, if you need it. Dad has a lot of fine clothes, which I take is a side effect after growing up with grandma as his mother.” 

Harry gaped at him, then quickly shut his mouth and hugged Neville. Neville almost fell off the bench but steadied himself, returning the hug. 

“You’re my hero…!” Harry breathed out against his chest before looking up at said hero. Harry was slightly embarrassed to realise that his eyes were slightly wet with relief. 

Neville’s cheeks heated slightly as he patted Harry on the shoulder. “It’s nothing, compared to all you’ve done for me throughout the years.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want you to feel like you have to pay anything back, but I am really thankful.” 

Neville returned his smile. “I don’t, I’m helping because I can and because I want to.” 

On the other side of Neville, Draco let out a small sigh. Unseen by everyone else around him, the blonde wizard began to absently play with his cufflinks, while staring down at the table. 

The following day was the start of the weekend, which normally meant that Harry would wake up and go walking with Hermione, and then meet up with the rest of his Quidditch driven friends to go have a late second breakfast, or early lunch. However, the day before, Harry had felt rather exhausted after studying so much that he allowed himself a break. He asked Draco to just let him sleep, and so he woke up alone in their dormitory. After taking a long, warm shower, and trying and subsequently failing to brush through all of his hair, Harry headed towards the Great Hall on his own. 

On the way there, and while still in the dungeons, Harry was passed by a tall Durmstrang student who passed him in a hurry. The student found a group which was apparently his friends, and he threw himself into the group with a loud holler of victory, followed by excited talk in Russian. Harry was about to continue on, but before he managed to, he saw Goyle coming out from the same corridor that the Durmstrang student had just exited from. Goyle’s face was completely red, and he was fumbling with something in his hands. 

When Goyle saw Harry, he tried to hide the object at first, but when he recognised him as just being Harry, he stopped. The item proved to be a green rose with silver edges on the petals, enchanted so that it would match the Slytherin House logo. The stem and the green petals were different shades of green, where the petals reminded Harry of the green velvet curtains which draped Draco’s room in Malfoy Manor. 

“He asked me to the Yule Ball…” Goyle squeaked as he stared in disbelief at the flower in his hands. “Can you believe it? He was so… fit. And handsome. And he asked me. Apparently, he is a year older, but he is in his sixth year. He looked so mature… What should I do? I said yes because I got so nervous…” Goyle looked at Harry with a pleading look. “Do you think he was… making fun of me?” 

Harry felt his heart sink in his chest as he heard the worry with which Goyle asked the last question. Goyle was still rather big, he wasn’t making an effort in working out, and he enjoyed sweets and enjoyed generally considered unhealthy food. Still, he had always seemed so secure in just being him that Harry never thought to think of Goyle as unhappy. In general, Goyle really was happy with himself, but he had moments of insecurity, like most people did. 

However, in this case, Harry felt rather confident in his response to his friend, as he had actually seen how happy the Durmstrang student had been when he ran to his friends and told them the news which Harry now understood to be that Goyle had said yes. The way the older teenager had jumped and cheered was not the general display of a person who was about to set someone up for a joke. Not to mention that the enchanted rose was an advanced display of magic in that it had both a different texture than a normal rose, as well as a silver lining. It wasn’t just a simple Color Changing Charm to make the flower green instead of red. 

Goyle’s worries seemed somewhat eased by Harry’s remarks, and he smiled softly as he looked at the rose. Still, he wasn’t completely calmed down. 

Harry found himself gathering his courage and telling his friend that “if it so happens that he would have made fun of you, come to me and I will dance with you no matter what.” That ‘what’ meaning if he managed to dare ask someone out or not. He tried very hard not to think of the fact that he technically needed a partner for the opening dance, and had to ask someone.

That remark appeared to mean a lot to Goyle, who looked genuinely happy when he thanked Harry for the reassurance. Goyle put his rose in his pocket, careful not to damage it, before the two Slytherin students walked together to the Great Hall to have a late breakfast, or early lunch. Neither of them was quite sure. 

Yet another week passed. Harry, Draco, Ron, Nott, Blaise and Goyle gathered around the Slytherin table for lunch. Harry was told that Hermione had asked to speak with Neville alone, which was slightly worrying to Harry, but he tried to not allow himself to feel all that worried when there was actually no sign that anything was wrong. 

It was only when Neville appeared and came up to their group alone that Harry began to actually worry. Judging by the slight twitches in Draco’s face, he was worried as well. Neville realised that a lot of worried faces were facing him, and did his best to smile. 

“Ron, Harry, Draco, can I borrow you for a bit?” Neville said, politely looking at them each in turn. 

Ron was already half standing up as soon as his name was called. Harry and Draco stood up as well as Neville stopped by the table to grab some pieces of bread that he brought with him, seemingly planning on bringing them to Hermione. The four of them left the Great Hall without saying anything, but when Neville steered them towards a different floor than the library or the study rooms, the group exchanged glances. 

“Where are we going?” Ron took Harry’s and Draco’s glances as reason to speak up for them all. 

“The Room of Requirements, that room that Snuffles, uh, found, last year.” Neville glanced around and while there were no people around, he still chose to speak in slight code as to not mention Sirius Black, the supposed mass murderer. Harry and Draco had told the rest of the group where it was and how to get in, although the group hadn’t had any use for the room thus far. 

When they got to the room, they found it to look like a comfortable living room, equipped with two cozy sofas, many pillows, as well as a lot of tissues and at least three trash cans where one might dispose of tissues. The two sofas were facing one another, with a table between them. It was upon one of these sofas that Hermione sat, hugging a big red pillow which was shaped like a lion to her chest, with the tissue box pulled in front of her upon the wooden table. From a gramophone in a corner came calm music, which Harry recognised from somewhere but couldn’t name. 

Hermione had obviously been crying. She was still dressed in her work out clothes, but her hair was even more of a mess than usual. Her nose was swollen after blowing it, and her eyes puffy. She looked like he had had quite the breakdown, which made Harry ache to hug her and tell her that everything would be alright. He could only imagine that he must have looked equally miserable most of the past month, so he held nothing but sympathy for her. 

Harry, Draco and Ron sat down opposite her sofa, while Neville sat down next to her and offered her the bread, which she started to nibble on between weak sobs. Harry could see that she was trembling now that he was closer. She appeared frightened, and didn’t even dare look at any of them but Neville. 

“So,” Neville began, after making sure that Hermione was eating. “There is something Hermione feels that she needs to tell you, but it is very hard for her. Thus, we have talked it over, and she has given me permission to talk to you about it in her stead, with her present, of course. I won’t be saying anything that I haven’t been allowed to say, so this is all her words, not my interpretation of how I see things.” 

All three teenagers in sofa number two nodded. Harry felt as if they were all collectively holding their breaths. He could hear his own heart beat in his ears, but tried his best to focus on what Neville was saying. On both sides of Harry, both Draco and Ron fumbled somewhat with their respective nervous tells of playing with cufflinks and poking at old scars. 

“Hermione is worried that you will be mad with her, because there is something she feels that she has been hiding from you, and that she must tell you.” Neville continued. “I have tried to tell her that she is not obliged to tell anyone anything that she doesn’t want and that she does not owe any of us any explanations, but she insisted that she must, even though she is scared that you will want to hurt her for it.” 

Harry gaped at the idea that he would want to hurt Hermione for anything, Draco looked shocked at the implication and Ron looked beyond baffled. Still, none of them spoke up, instead, they remained patient, waiting to hear the entire story before speaking up. Hermione hid behind her lion pillow, stifling a weak sob. 

“I have told her that she should speak up about her so-called secret, not because she has to, but because she needs to hear that none of her friends would find her repulsive, wrong or worthy of violence. Basically, I’ve encouraged her to tell you so that she won’t have to worry about it any more, as it has been having a bad impact on her mental health.” Neville continued his disclaimer. “When Hermione was born, her parents thought she was a boy. When she grew older, she realised that she was in fact a girl, and has been ever since.” 

The three teenagers sat in silence, waiting for Neville to continue with his speech. Harry held his breath, waiting for the supposed secret to be revealed, yet Neville said nothing more, he simply waited while Hermione was hiding.

“So… uh… why did you stop?” Ron asked. “What is it that she wanted us to know?” 

Neville let out a triumphant noise as he pointed at Ron, turning towards Hermione. “There. I told you.” 

“What?” Ron blinked. “What did I do?” 

Hermione peeked over the pillow, still trembling, and now with tears in her eyes. “You’re not… angry with me?” 

“For what!” Ron threw his hands up, the tension had gotten to him and he was now looking between everyone gathered to have someone tell him what was going on. 

Harry shook his head as Ron looked to him for answers, signalling that he didn’t know either. Draco was frowning hard next to Harry, trying to assess the facts and the information before speaking up. 

“In Muggle words, Hermione is what is called a trans woman.” Neville explained. “Apparently, a lot of the Muggles have decided that that is something strange or unwelcome, and they are societally treating it as something bad or weird.” 

“But that’s ridiculous!” Ron and Draco said as one, then looked at one another with great surprise. The two of them didn’t often agree outright with one another. 

Harry realised something, a small memory unearthed itself from his first year at Hogwarts. Back when Hermione had found the mirror that showed what one most desired, she had said that she saw herself as a woman. Back then, Harry had taken it to mean that she wanted to grow up fast and become acknowledged as an adult so that she wouldn’t feel so out of place but maybe the wish had been more literal than that. Maybe Hermione saw herself as the woman she didn’t believe she could become. Maybe she had been so enamoured with the mirror because it showed her a reality which she didn’t think could ever belong to her.

“You mean to say that to Muggles, because of your genitals, which have no bearing on what you are like as a person, and which the absolute majority of people will never, ever come into contact with or even see, they feel that they have the right to decide that you are less of a woman?” Draco finally asked, looking between Neville to Hermione. 

Hermione hugged her pillow tighter as another sob left her lips. She nodded, then trembled worse. “Or they decide that I’m not a woman at all.” Her voice broke as she made a brave effort of speaking up. 

“But that makes as much sense as judging someone’s worth as a person and a mage for their blood.” Draco objected, shaking his head. “I should know, after realising the truth myself two years ago. I was only able to think like I did due to ignorance.” 

Ron opened his mouth, almost speaking over Draco in his eagerness to address Hermione. “One of my brothers is like you. But the other way. I won’t tell you which one, because it doesn’t matter, as it has no bearing on him as a person.”

“R-really?” Hermione stared at Ron now, as if he had just said something impossible. 

“Hermione,” Draco called her attention back to him. “My mother and father are both like you. My mother is like you, and my father is like Weasley’s brother.” 

This time, Hermione’s jaw fell as she stared at Draco, the cogwheels in her brain appearing to work almost painfully hard to understand what she had heard. “B-but… your mother is so beautiful…” 

“So are you.” 

Every person in the room spoke up as one, causing Hermione to flinch at first, then slowly settle down into crying once more. 

“But I’m not… My voice is getting darker, and my shoulders are growing wider… and I’m not getting any breasts like the other girls… My parents were kind of supportive, but my mom won’t let me buy a bra, or even allow me to buy skirts anymore. B-before, she said it was alright, but now that I’m getting older, she… she told me that maybe I… I… Should stop prete-e-ending.” Hermione started crying worse, although this time, Neville moved closer to let her hug him. She did, in that she clung to him and sobbed against him. “And I hate going to the bathroom, because Moaning Myrtle said I’m not allowed in the girl’s bathroom when I was eleven. Harry made her stop, but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong for picking the girl’s bathroom! But I know I’m a girl or woman, or female or whatever. I’ve just… My body is changing and I’m scared that you will all sooner or later react like my parents or Myrtle.” She finally managed to voice her concerns, but like a flood, it wasn’t stopping. “And I want to be happy about going to the ball, but my mom would never allow me to buy a dress, or even a skirt. I’m afraid that everyone would laugh at or be disgusted with me for not being girly enough to be a woman.” She finished and hid against Neville, crying against his shoulder as he gently stroked her back, allowing her to break down against him. 

“You are definitely a woman.” Harry spoke up, feeling the truth behind his words with every fiber of his being. “You are not pretending, not to yourself or anyone, and we would never, ever think that you tricked us.” His head was still spinning with the madness that there was a world out there which had hurt Hermione enough to have reason to fear that her own friends would hurt her for something as common as this.

Ron and Draco nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with him. 

“It is sick that the Muggles have made you think that you are to expect violence just for being who you are.” Ron filled in, his voice filled with disgust towards the people who’d think women like Hermione weren’t women enough for their standards. 

This time, Harry and Draco nodded. 

“If you are worried about the ball, I think that I might be able to help.” Draco spoke up, carefully leaning in a little so that Hermione could hear him over her crying. “If you’d allow me to share your situation with my mother, I am sure that she still has some pieces which could fit you. If you are worried about, as you said ‘not looking girly enough,’ having a corset and some padding might make you feel better about yourself?” 

Hermione glanced up at him from the safety of Neville’s shirt. “She… would help me? But wouldn’t those things be… uh, lying about myself?” 

Draco looked almost offended at her question, but then managed to calm himself and shook his head. “That isn’t how fashion works. Throughout the ages, fashion has always strived to create shapes and lines where there were previously none or little of them. It is only recently that there has come a focus on what the Muggles so call the desired hourglass figure. Before that, fashion used all manner of padding, filling, cinching and the like to create what was considered the ideal at that moment in time. Throughout history, people have always tried to change the ideal body with fashion, and accentuated and reduced whatever they felt was more or less desirable. My mother and father are both interested in fashion styles which celebrate or accentuate certain parts of their bodies that would otherwise be out of place or undesired in other fashion styles. Mother prefers tight corsets and fashion which desires her broader shoulders, with many layers of skirts or petticoats, or both, to accentuate her femininity. While father enjoys relatively modern suit fashion that doesn’t necessarily draw attention to his body. Following that reasoning, he also wears black on black for that effect. However, neither of my parents are forced to wear those styles of fashion because of societal pressure to appear a certain gender, but they wear those styles because they find them comfortable.” 

Ron blinked at him when he finished, as nobody had expected a rant about fashion history. 

“So the moral of the story is that you get to wear what you want and it doesn’t decide your gender, but if you want to wear stuff that accentuate a certain gender idea or presentation because it makes you feel comfortable, you should do so without feeling guilty.” Harry summarised. “It’s not tricking anyone.” 

“Besides, I was planning on wearing a corset for the ball, no matter what anyone thinks about it, because I want to.” Draco added after nodding approvingly at Harry’s condensed version of hiss speech. “And I’m not the only one, I can assure you that.” 

Hermione took a deep breath. “I would… Really like to do that then. I-if your mother doesn’t mind.”

Draco smiled at her. “I don’t think it will be a problem at all.” 

Hermione sat silent for a few seconds, then sat up slightly, grabbing her lion pillow once more. Harry absently noticed that it was a female lion, not a male one. 

“When I realised that I was a girl, I started to look around for people like me. In the media, in stories, in books, and I found that women like me are portrayed as a joke, or as something dangerous.” Hermione began to speak, once more trembling slightly as her emotions were getting to her. The reaction was very understandable, and nobody in the room expected anything else, considering how heavy the subject seemed to weigh on the barely woman mostly girl. “More often than not, they are unstable or psychopathic men who dress in women’s clothing to get to normal women-” 

“You are normal.” Neville interrupted her. “You are completely normal, and you are a woman. No matter what madness the Muggles are trying to tell you.” 

She looked at him with surprise, then blinked some tears aside as she finally found it in her to smile weakly. 

“Besides,” the very history conscious Draco spoke up. “What is perceived as normal changes with every generation. Just take those horrendous things called ‘jeans’ that every Muggle appears to be wearing…” He shook his head with stern disapproval, causing both Harry and Hermione to chuckle softly. 

“Either way, people like me are portrayed as strange, dangerous, mentally ill, psychopathic or… uh… s-sexual predators or killers.” She seemed highly embarrassed to mention a word such as ‘sexual.’ “Never as the heroine, never as accepted, never as… normal.” 

The four teenage boys exchanged looks, then turned to Hermione as one. 

“You are completely normal.” Neville began, smiling gently at her. 

“You’re a genius too, that is more un-normal than your gender. Women make up sort of fifty percent of all people, after all.” Ron assured her. 

“Abnormal.” Hermione corrected him with a weak giggle. 

“Yeah, what’s abnormal is how clever you are.” Ron stuck his tongue out at her in a playful gesture, causing her to giggle again. 

“If anything, it is very nice for you to have figured it out so early. My mother figured her own identity out after she had finished school. Not that it matters in terms of authenticity or some other perceived notion like that. A person might figure themselves out by the age of fifty, that does not make them any less of the gender they realise themselves as.” Draco rested his head in his hand, smiling gently at his friend. “You are most assuredly normal.” 

“As normal as can be.” Harry felt like he was echoing everyone else’s sentiment, but he also knew that Hermione needed to hear it. 

Still, what Hermione had told them about Muggles and their perception of women like Hermione was beyond baffling to Harry. He didn’t want to imagine a world that would persecute and hunt people like Hermione, Nott, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and one of Ron’s brothers because of something as insignificant as their genitalia, like Draco had put it. As if a person’s identity, personality and expression of self somehow laid not within their brain or in their heart, but in a reproductive body part or organ. It made him feel disgusted to think that people would perceive Hermione as a threat, for no other reason than that she differed slightly from their independent view of her. He thought of people like Nott, whose painful period cramps might make the world believe them to not be men despite nothing else about them being remotely like a woman.

In the end, Harry found himself being overwhelmed with the question of why it mattered so much to the Muggles. What actively changed about a person from knowing their private parts? Why did it matter what another person looked like; if they said that they were either male or female, or outside the spectrum of gender like Delcour, why was it so important for the Muggles to look for bodily signifiers that they were, or were not, what the person said they were? Every person, every individual in the whole world differed from one another, and what made up a person, a friend, and an identity was not something which could be summarised with a person’s gender. 

Harry had had his own identity forced away from him on so many occasions, where his real self of ‘Lupin’ was rejected by people who would rather prefer him to be ‘Potter’ and all the untrue things which that entailed. He understood how Hermione felt, even if he didn’t have to go through the rejection of his gender alongside other people’s rejection of his identity. Still, he understood what she must feel like, as the direct denial of their respective identities were still somewhat similar. It still caused hurt, designed wounds of the same shape, to be infested with shame which were not right or theirs to begin with, but was forced onto the wounds created by others through rejection and denial.

Rejection and people denying the existence of your very own self hurt in ways Harry couldn’t even begin to describe, and it begged for the question of what actually mattered. A person had to live with their own identity and self every day, had to live with hurt and rejection, and sometimes evidently fears of violence such as Hermione, or fear for their own safety. How could that somehow be less important than somebody’s perception of the people around them. It was rather frightening that there were people, Muggles and mages alike, out there who thought that their opinion was more important and valid than the experiences and safety of the person who would have to live with it every day, while they wouldn’t have to. 

Harry swallowed back his emotions as to not cry as well, but his eyes had nonetheless gotten slightly wet. “I think… I understand how you feel a little bit, Hermione.” He realised that he might have said something unfitting, and bit his lower lip. “I mean, I don’t really understand it completely, but I think I might understand the feeling of the world denying who you are for its own convenience or purposes. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I’m…”

Hermione cut him off. “I understand Harry. I can’t speak for all trans women but to me, few things would make me as happy as to have someone who could even begin to understand. Even if it’s not exactly the same.” She smiled. “Thank you.” 

“I didn’t mean to do anything like ‘compare our pain’ or something like that.” Harry continued, feeling the need to make sure that everyone knew that he hadn’t intended to dismiss or undermine Hermione’s experiences with his words. 

“You didn’t, but thank you either way.” Hermione assured him, which put Harry’s worries at ease. She looked between the group of friends, then carefully asked “do I have to tell you my, uh, other name? My legal name?” 

“Your name is Hermione, unless you decide that it is not.” Neville assured her, which evidently made her feel happy, judging by her smile. 

“You do not have to tell us anything about yourself which you do not feel comfortable with, least of all a name somebody else decided for you long ago before even properly having gotten to know you,” Draco added, his tone of voice making him sound strict, yet kind. He took a deep breath, and then continued. “It was very good of you to tell us so that we could help you. While none of us necessarily needed this knowledge for ourselves, your safety and feelings are the most important, and you should be allowed to address things which you are worried about in life, no matter what kind. I’m glad we can be of help.”

Hermione sat up a little bit, looking somewhat shy, although not ashamed this time. She took a few deep breaths and visibly tried to calm herself, while her friends patiently waited. “I… uh, there is one more thing I wanted to tell you, if you don’t mind me sort of changing the topic a little bit?” 

“What is it?” Ron was the first to speak up, leaning his head to the side in a manner that reminded Harry of Snuffles. Harry kept that comment to himself.

“I actually, uhm… I have a date for the Yule Ball, even if we are going as friends, so it’s not a real date.” She fumbled with her lion pillow as she spoke. 

“Who are you going with?” Draco smiled at her, politely leaning his head slightly to the side, in a way which didn’t make him look the least like Snuffles. He, as well as everyone else in the room, were evidently relieved to talk about something fun like this after such a heavy subject. 

“Victor asked if he could take me. Victor Krum, that is.” Hermione smiled at them, but avoided looking directly at Neville. 

“No way!” Ron blinked at her, his mouth falling open. “Krum asked you? To the Yule Ball! Merlin’s beard, Hermione, I’m so jealous!” Ron slapped his own knee, grinning at her. “I’m not sure if you heard, but me and Teddy are going together as friends. Friend date? You get it. Neville is saving me with some nice clothes, so I don’t have to embarrass myself.” 

“You and Nott?” She smiled in return. “That sounds nice. I hadn’t heard. How nice of Neville.”  

“How did he ask you?” Ron leaned forward, looking expectantly at Hermione. It was nice to see that his evident jealousy wasn’t something he let take over.

“It was actually kind of… dramatic…” Hermione played with the lion in her lap as she smiled at her group of friends. “I’ve been so stressed about the ball, and I’ve felt really bad about my body and my voice and all that. One of the girls in my dormitory gave me her old bra, as she had grown out of it and thought that I might want it since it was still whole and all that, and that helped me feel a little better about myself. Either way, when I was studying with Victor my voice suddenly cracked.” She shuddered at the memory. “I just sort of broke down there and then, and accidentally told Victor everything about how scared I was about the ball. So he told me that he would want to take me as a friend, because no matter what I look like, ‘nobody would dare to come up to Victor Krum and pick a fight about his dance partner not being worthy.’ His words, not mine.”

“I swear to you, Hermione, even if my mother wouldn’t want to help, and I’m sure she will, I will make sure that you go to that Yule Ball feeling the most beautiful you’ve ever felt.” Draco spoke up, his voice hinting at just how emotionally invested he was, as he listened to his friend’s fears about being made fun of at the ball. 

Hermione turned towards him, it seemed that the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders. Despite how tired she looked, she was nonetheless happy and relieved. “Who are you going with, Draco and Harry?” 

“Uh, ah… I…” Harry bit his lower lip hard, feeling anxiety bubble up in his chest. His face hurt, as if all the blood had been drained from it in rapid succession and left him cold and heated with pain. 

“I don’t have a date. Yet.” Draco told the room calmly, smiling pleasantly but distantly at the people who looked at him. 

Harry did not look at him, in fact, he was avoiding Draco like Hermione was avoiding Neville. 

The conversation shifted onto something different, and the group of friends continued to speak, getting immersed in different topics until Hermione straight up fell asleep from being so tired. At that point, a book materialised itself in front of Neville on the table, so that he would have something to read while keeping her company. Ron, Harry and Draco all took that as a sign that they should leave. 

Quietly, the three of them waved goodbye to Neville and began to exit the Room of Requirements after making sure that nobody was outside to see them appear through the wall. They did so through a small little hole in the wall, which had appeared so that they could spy on the corridor outside. All three of them exited without any incident. 

“Oh man, I’m beat too.” Ron yawned, raising his arms over his head. “Poor Hermione, I hope she gets a good nap. I wanna have one myself.” He began to walk back towards the staircases. 

Harry meant to follow him, but he felt a hand on his arm and stopped, turning to see Draco avoid his gaze. 

“May I speak with you?” Draco didn’t so much speak as he mumbled. 

Harry couldn’t recall ever hear him sounding like he just had, but then it hit him that he had heard him speak like that, once when he apologised for causing Harry trouble with Ron as an eleven year old, and once when he had apologised to Hermione for calling her a Mudblood as a twelve year old. Draco sounded frail, vulnerable, and uncertain. 

“S-sure. Yes.” Harry turned back towards him. 

Over by the staircases, Ron looked back at the two of them. “You’re not coming?” 

“We will see you by dinner, Weasley.” Draco called to him, as he let go of Harry’s arm. Not that the grip had been particularly strong to begin with. 

“Ah. Cool.” Ron waved, then disappeared out of sight. 

Draco brought Harry in the opposite direction, away from the Room of Requirements and upwards. Away from everyone else to make certain that they were alone before he told Harry what it was he wanted. 

Chapter Text

Draco brought Harry high up in the castle, to a place where they weren’t likely to be bothered on a Saturday, when most students spent time in other places than close to the teaching halls and rooms. Thus, Harry found himself outside a room which he hadn’t been in before, next to a beautiful window with a wooden bench underneath it. Draco sat down upon this bench, he rested his hands next to himself and leaned forward, causing him to sit in a position which wasn’t very like his usual choices. As he sat, Draco studied his own shoes, waiting for Harry to either join him on the bench, or remain standing. 

Harry elected to sit down next to his friend, but not too close. It felt inappropriate, somehow. The bench underneath Harry felt cold, but he didn’t really register it. Harry was far more focused on his own heartbeat in his chest, and the blood which said heart pushed around his body with almost painful speed. Further, the rather distant and slightly morose expression on Draco’s face bothered Harry a lot more than the bench. 

Draco sat silent for a while, still studying his shoes, while Harry struggled against the impulse to speak up or apologise. Harry knew his friend well enough to want to allow him the dignity of speaking first, but it was very hard to do just that when he was becoming increasingly worried with every second. 

Finally, Draco spoke up. “May I lean against you?” 

“Huh?” That was plenty far from what Harry had expected, causing the noise to escape from his lips without it being planned by his brain. Harry quickly recovered from his confusion. “Of course.” It felt strange to be asked if Draco could do something that Harry was already naturally doing to him all the time. 

The taller wizard lowered himself down somewhat, then sank down upon Harry’s shoulder, letting his shoulder rest against Harry’s side with the same movement. Harry hoped that Draco couldn’t feel his heart beating against his shoulder, but he didn’t find the notion particularly realistic. Still, Draco remained still, leaning against Harry as the subtle noise of their respective breathing began to fill the space around him. 

“...I rehearsed what to say in my brain so many times, but now that I’m here, all of it seems wrong somehow…” Draco sighed, absently allowing himself to cuddle up against Harry. 

The action caused Harry’s heart to spiral off in wide loops of happiness. If Draco hadn’t actually been in front of his heart, Harry might have reached for it to steady himself. 

The other sat up again, turning to face Harry fully. He looked nervous, simply and honestly nervous. Harry wasn’t sure what to think of that expression upon Draco’s face, somehow, it felt beyond natural to see it, and equally alien as Draco didn’t usually express himself through his face. 

“I… I think I planned this a lot, far too much adhering to far too many of my own expectations, but now I… I’ll just be direct…” Draco stopped to take a deep breath. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me? I understand if you don’t, but… I…” 

“I do!” Harry hadn’t meant to yell, and he hadn’t meant to move in so fast towards the other that their foreheads banged together. The impact wasn’t forceful, but it was enough for both of them to stagger back, holding their heads. “I’m sorry…” Harry mumbled as he corrected his glasses, which had ended up slightly to the side from the impact. 

Draco appeared to breathe a sigh of relief, ignoring Harry’s clumsy action. “You do? I was… I was worried that you were upset with me in some manner, and that you weren’t asking because I had done something to upset you…” His voice trailed off. 

“No!” Harry hurriedly spoke up, adding another loud echo to his first cry, which was still distantly echoing in the empty hallway. “You haven’t done anything at all, I would tell you if I was upset about something. A-actually, I was thinking of asking you, or wanting to ask you, but I thought that maybe you just saw me as a friend and I… I was scared that you’d say yes but only want to go as a friend and that would be… r-really hard.” He swallowed. All of his fears and worries, which he hadn’t even managed to admit to himself, flowed from Harry’s lips, just as Hermione’s worries had from hers once she had been prompted to confront them. “B-besides, you could have anyone… I’m not sure why I should be your first choice…Or any of your choices.” He added in a subtle whisper, then hurriedly spoke up a little louder. “Besides, I don’t even have clothes for it, and you are, I mean, you. So it would probably be really embarrassing for you to be seen with me. We really would be seen together since I have to be in that opening dance and-...” 

Draco reached out to take Harry’s hands, prompting him to stop speaking. Harry was thankful, as he felt like he might already have said far too much. 

“Harry, you sleep in my bed every night. I invited you to my home numerous times, and invited you to the Quidditch World Cup because I felt more comfortable around my father with you there. I’ve been hugging and holding your hands and the like, in ways I don’t with others. You know things about me and my family that I would never share with anyone else. Did you really think I just want to be your friend?” Draco calmly asked, trying to meet Harry’s gaze. 

Harry, however, was hiding behind his hair, even if he squeezed Draco’s hands back tightly. “But you could have done all that as a friend.” He didn’t really like how his objection came out as a squeak. “Or to make me happy…” It was hard to talk through the lump in his throat. 

Draco hesitated, but not in a nervous manner. Instead, he seemed to hesitate so that he might think his words over, and not be too direct or honest with his response. Finally, he abandoned all subtlety and spoke honestly. “I guess I could have. If you want to stretch the motive of friendship that far. Yet I didn’t.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “No, you’re right, I suppose somebody else could have wanted that. I don't.” Draco shrugged then shook his head, perhaps because he needed another physical outlet to his emotions. “And I really couldn’t have anyone… That is frankly rather ridiculous. Even if I could, I would still want to go with you. Not as a friend.” 

Harry felt his lower lip quiver as he looked up at Draco, pulling his head back somewhat like a turtle which wanted to hide within its shell. “But wouldn’t you be embarrassed to go with me? I can’t live up to your standards for fashion or appearance.” 

“Oh, Harry, I’d help you live up to them. In fact, I will help you. I’m not so cruel as to demand anything of you without ensuring that you could actually perform to my standard. If I want you to dress a certain way at a certain event, say this ball, I will not demand that you suddenly get the money to do that, but assist you in ways which will allow me to be satisfied with the result.” Draco squeezed his hands, smiling at Harry in a way which made Harry’s heart flutter. 

“You’re saying that you’d… You’d take me to buy clothes together?” Harry tried to summarise. 

Draco shook his head. “No, I’d take you to buy clothes, and pay for them.”

“W-what? You can’t do that, that is too much!” Harry hurriedly objected. 

“Why? I am the one demanding you to look a certain way, you do not have the budget to buy such clothes, but my family does. I’m asking this of you, so you shouldn’t have to be financially crippled because of something I’m requesting. What would be far too much, and unfair, would be to put it on you,” Draco calmly broke down Harry’s argument. 

Harry chewed on his lower lip, then sighed. Draco made sense. 

“If you… Really want that… But then you can’t give me a Holiday present this year.” That felt like the most reasonable thing to ask in return. 

Draco smiled again, “as you wish.” 

Harry found himself smiling in return, but a little more shyly than Draco. “Are you really alright with going with me? I don’t know the first thing about dancing, for example.” 

The wizard whose family consisted out of a long line of aristocratic mages simply shook his head while a slightly teasing smile formed on his lips. “I’ve offered to teach you many times now, you think I didn’t know? I’ve been expecting, and wanting, to teach you so that we may dance together at the ball.” 

“Oh.” Another hint which had completely flown over Harry’s head. It seemed so very obvious now in hindsight. “But, uh… I think I should ask… What is it that is actually required of me when I go as your partner? Since, I’m expecting you to expect more things of me than to just dress well.” 

Draco began playing with Harry’s hand, tracing along Harry’s knuckles and letting his soft fingertips dance up and down Harry’s fingers. Harry felt himself shudder slightly, but he wanted nothing more than for Draco to keep on playing with his fingers as he spoke. It felt safe and right, and made it easier to take in that the situation was actually happening.

“First of all, as a champion, even if unwilling, you are likely expected to lead the first dance, meaning that you have to learn how to lead. I can lead you later, but at least for the first dance, I will need you to be confident enough in your dancing to lead me.” Draco began. 

Harry nodded, pretending to himself that his cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. The first demand was reasonable, and remotely achievable, with practice. Besides it was something which would have happened either way, somehow, as he had to perform as an almost-champion.

“Secondly, I want you to wear clothing suitable for a partner of mine, but we will achieve that through my effort, all you have to do is wear it.” Draco continued, prompting Harry to nod once more. “And finally…”

Just three demands, that seemed totally achievable. That was good. So far, so good. 

“I want a kiss.” Draco laced their fingers together and held on to Harry’s hand. Softly, gently, as if it was a movement he had practiced all his life. 

Draco’s final demand made Harry’s hearing disappear momentarily. It felt as if his head had been filled with soft cotton that muffled all of the noises from the outside world, but equally muffled all of his own thoughts. For almost half a minute, Harry stared at Draco’s face, or more exactly, his lips, trying to remember how noises and sound translated into speech and how this speech held meaning. 

Then it hit him, all at once. 

‘I want a kiss.’

A kiss. 

Kiss. 

Harry’s face, which had been plenty heated since a few minutes back, suddenly felt even hotter. So hot that his cheeks hurt from it. “W-with me?” Harry squeaked out, not even noticing that his voice had risen an octave. 

Draco laughed, not mockingly or cruelly, but in a soft, pearly kind of way which made Harry want to kiss him. More than he already did, that is. 

“Yes. I want to kiss you. At the Yule Ball, at least once.” Draco clarified. “I think it’s safe to say that most people want a kiss by the end of a date, but I don’t want to expect that without telling you that I want one, lest risk causing my own disappointment for not speaking up. Thus, I’m listing it as a demand, even though I would never actually demand a kiss from you, unless you wanted to give it to me.” 

“I want to kiss you! I mean, give you a kiss, I mean… Y-you get what I mean.” Harry finally managed to stutter out.

It felt really good to Harry that Draco had told him what he wanted openly and honestly, since Harry probably would have doubted and possibly not dared doing such a thing on his own. It felt safe to know what was expected of him, and the knowledge that he could fulfill the so called demands without much trouble made Harry feel comfortable in himself and his situation. All in all, it was a really good thing to Harry to be told these things up front, and to him, the honesty and openness had higher value than any surprises or perceived romantic notions of secrecy. 

Draco laughed again. “Yes. I do understand what it is you are trying to say.” 

Slowly, Harry felt his fingers curl around Draco’s, and the two of them held hands. Tightly. It was as if they had both longed for it but never quite dared to cling to the other with this much eagerness. Draco smiled at Harry, a soft smile which didn’t show his teeth, while Harry grinned at Draco, hiding nothing of his happiness. 

Three demands: leading a dance, dress fashionably, and a kiss. 

Harry felt confident that he could do those three things, but only with Draco’s help. From here on, when Harry thought about the dance classes, he didn’t only feel terrified. Instead, he felt rather excited, because he was going to be dancing with his best friend and crush, Draco. 

The Yule Ball was going to be great, no doubt. 

“Ron, man, you won’t believe what happened to me just now!” Nott came running into the Room of Requirements, his face red and flushed. He was dressed in his winter clothes and was holding his thick wool hat in his hand. He looked excited, even for being Nott. 

The group inside the room consisted of Harry, Draco, Neville, Ron, Hermione and Lovegood. With Nott’s newly arrived self, that made for seven people. The room had been transformed into a ballroom with mirrors along one wall, making it appear like a hybrid mix of a dance hall and a ballroom. Inside the room, the formerly six people had divided into pairs, and they were all busy practicing for the Yule Ball. 

Harry was paired with Draco, the two of them had told their group of friends that they were going together, surprising none and earning them a teasing ‘about time’ from Ron. Apparently, everyone had been able to tell that Draco was dropping hints about what he wanted, but Harry, who had somehow missed them all in his own self doubt. It was a little embarrassing, but Harry found that the embarrassment paled with how happy his friends were for him and Draco. 

Neville was instructing Ron and Hermione, since neither of them needed to be able to lead, they were having an easier time as they mostly needed to focus on the steps themselves. It was mostly Harry that needed to be coached with full focus, as he didn’t have too much time left to become a good dancer. The teenagers from Pureblood families had been taught to dance since a young age, and it really showed in both Neville and Draco, although not so much in Ron. Lovegood claimed to be able to dance, but her dancing was quite… unique. As well as entirely unhelpful to all of the inexperienced dancers. It wasn’t bad dancing, simply not ballroom dancing.

Thus, the group had ended up using the Room of Requirement to practice some more.  Lovegood had come with them, and would pair together with Ron when he wanted to practice leading, but was otherwise in charge of the gramophone. 

Nott, who was close enough of a friend to them all now, although mostly to Ron, had been informed of where the Room of Requirement was located. The group had concluded that if anything, the room might become valuable to Nott as his interest in mechanics, and desire for explosions, outgrew his small study desk in the Slytherin dormitory. 

“What’s up?” Ron let go of Lovegood, who spun off before Ron realised his mistake and could reach out to stop her. Then he turned towards Nott again. 

“We’re going to the ball as a polyople! That is, if you want.” Nott excitedly approached Ron, half bouncing, half walking. 

“A what one?” Ron frowned as his friend as the rest of the room turned towards the happy Nott. 

“A poly couple.” Nott translated. 

“Ah.” Ron nodded, then frowned at his friend before he connected the pieces. “Wait, wait. You found someone else to go with?” 

“Yeah! And she wants to go with both of us, as a polyople.” Nott grinned. “I almost blew her up. No, not really,” he addressed Hermione, who looked a tad worried, then focused on Ron once more. “She’s from Beauxbatons, and I set off an explosion kind of close to her. I thought she was going to have my hide, and instead she gave me a lecture in trinket safety. We kept on talking, and it turns out we have a lot in common. She asked me to the ball, and I said that I already had a friend date, so she asked if we wanted to go all of us together. I said yeah, that my friend would probably want that. She is way cute, she has these styled curls, like all proper and stuff, but she is so much fun! Do you wanna go as a polyople? It will be great, you will like her!” Nott was almost bouncing where he was standing now, looking at Ron with hopeful eyes. 

Ron thought it over for a second, then nodded. “That sounds like fun, actually. If you are sure that neither of you mind me tagging along?” 

“She was the one to suggest I bring you. I’ll take you to meet her properly tomorrow, if you don’t have other plans?” Nott continued, seeming very happy. 

“One one condition?” Ron held up a finger, grinning to show that whatever he was about to say next wasn’t that serious.

“Yeah?” Nott blinked, leaning his head to the side. 

“You’re going to have to join us so that I can practice dancing with more than one person. I’m not too used to dancing at all, so Neville started me up with only one partner.” 

Nott began removing his jacket and gloves then, so that he could partake in the dance lessons. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Sorry beforehand if I step on your toes.” 

Ron grinned back. “Likewise.” 

Neville threw Draco a look which only Draco and Harry noticed. Harry translated his expression into “my toes are in danger.” Draco shrugged in response, a somewhat teasing smirk playing on his lips while Harry gave Neville what he hoped to be a sympathetic smile. 

The week before the Yule Ball, Draco had arranged to go shopping with Harry and Hermione. It was a weekend in December which meant that the Diagon Alley would be comparatively full with people, although the Holiday rush had yet to fully begin. 

Draco had written to his mother about Hermione’s situation. Not only had Narcissa agreed to let Hermione borrow one of her old dresses, but she had also insisted that Hermione join them when going clothes shopping for Harry so that Hermione’s wardrobe might be updated as well. Draco hadn’t particularly mentioned Hermione’s parents’ reactions to her identity in intricate detail, but what little he had mentioned had been enough for the woman to decide that she wanted to help the teenage girl, simply because she understood Hermione’s plight and because she wanted and could help. Hermione had been very surprised to learn that Mrs. Malfoy wanted to go shopping with her, but after Draco spoke it over with her, Hermione agreed to the offer, as Narcissa Malfoy did not try to hide her intentions of wanting to pay for the clothes as well, making certain that the girl was comfortable with the whole ordeal. 

Still, it became a little easier for both Harry and Hermione when the other was also being given clothes, as the Malfoys really could afford it, and the two of them could not for the moment. Harry had made sure to ask his dad if it was alright with him to allow the Malfoys to pay for an outfit of his, not because he had to, but because it felt good to ask his dad for his opinion. Remus had responded to Harry’s letter, stating that if the Malfoys wanted to pay, then it was completely fine to accept their offer. After all, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were adults, and if they wanted to use their fortune to help their son’s friends, then that was their choice entirely. Neither Harry nor Hermione were people who would come to expect expensive gifts, or try to take advantage of a fortune which were not theirs to have.

Remus’ letter further expressed his excitement that Harry was going with Draco to the Yule Ball, as he knew Draco to be very responsible and a good friend to his son. Remus had not exactly suspected that the two of them had feelings for one another, but he had recognised that it was a possibility, and was therefore not too astounded, but only felt happy for Harry. 

Thus, Harry, Draco and Hermione left Hogwarts after an early breakfast on the 10th of December to meet with Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy in Hogsmeade. The idea was to allow Hermione to go with Narcissa Malfoy and look at essential clothing pieces, while Harry and Draco would be accompanied by Lucius Malfoy to the tailor store. The three teenagers trudged along the snow covered path towards Hogsmeade, the wind and the cold quickly making their faces slightly frostbitten and their bodies chilled. It was not without a feeling of relief that the group entered the small village which offered some shelter from the mountain and forest winds. 

They found the two Malfoys waiting for them inside the Inn. Mrs. Malfoy was dressed in a black coat which ended around her ankles. The sleeves were somewhat wider, ending with a black fur covered rim. The high collar of the coat had the same black fur, which also covered the rest of the edges of it, as well as the sides along the buttoning. What little could be seen of her skirt was not black, but a rather lavish pattern in purple, shades of gold and browns, probably even hints of orange. Upon her head she wore a black fur hat, and her gloved hands were kept warm inside a muff, also in black fur. Upon her feet, she wore elegant boots, which must be enchanted, else they would not do much to keep her warm. 

Mr. Malfoy was dressed in fashion which complimented his wife. Although his coat was equally black and also lined with black fur, the cut was completely different, and was not form fitting in the least. As usual, he had layered black on black, with the only hint of color coming from his silver cane. The boots upon his feet were black with a bit of a heel on them. Both adults were patiently waiting inside the Inn, their focus on the door as they waited, which meant that the groups had no issues to assemble into one. 

Draco took the lead, bringing Harry and Hermione over to his parents. Now that all three Malfoys were together, Harry noticed that Draco’s jacket, even if it was a jacket rather than an ankle length coat, matched his parents’ coats in blackness and fur lining. 

The two adults approached as well, but before anyone could say anything, Draco surprised everyone gathered by stepping over to his father, and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. 

Lucius Malfoy was not a particularly tall man, he was taller than most fourteen year olds, but it was clear that his son was catching up to him more and more for every year. This was very clear as Draco, who was only a head and a half shorter than his father, hugged him. 

Mr. Malfoy blinked, appearing somewhat surprised, perhaps even shocked, then looked to his wife as if he needed confirmation of what had happened. His wife, in return, patiently and simply gestured with her hand. That was enough of a sign for her husband to embrace his son in return. Mr. Malfoy did not hug in the enthusiastic and clingy way which his son had committed to, possibly as an influence from his friends and Harry, but rather carefully instead. Even if the hug was very different from how Harry and his dad hugged, there was still some hesitant affection in the way father and son Malfoy embraced. It was evident that hugs weren’t usually exchanged between the two, as they both appeared a little awkward as they separated, but it clearly meant a lot to the father, judging by his, for being Lucius Malfoy, very emotional expression. Harry thought to himself that this was probably as close as he was ever going to get to seeing the man vulnerable. 

“Thank you.” Draco’s voice was small, almost no louder than the distant and weak crackling of the wood in the fireplace. 

He continued in a louder voice after just a moment, “I was very glad to read that you have been reinstated.” The rest of the article was a little too emotional of a topic to bring up in the middle of an open Inn, where anyone might hear the discussion. Draco’s comment was enough for everyone gathered to know that he was actually thanking his father for all that Mr. Malfoy had said during that interview withThe Daily Prophet. 

Lucius Malfoy smiled weakly at his son, before nodding at his words. “I wanted it to be a surprise, I was asked rather closely to that horrendous first article that The Daily Prophet published. Of course, I always expected them to blame it on that woman, but at the very least, she can no longer write any more of those ridiculously distorted fantasies of hers and have them extended to the mage community as facts.” 

“That woman will never be credible enough to write for any respectable news outlet ever again, which is just as well.” Mrs. Malfoy filled in. “Truly, she did this to herself, I have no sympathy for her. Good day to you, children. Miss Granger. Mr. Lupin.” 

“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy.” Both Harry and Hermione said as one. 

“Miss Granger, I was planning on having you travel with me while my husband takes the boys, I hope this is satisfactory to you.” She truly wasn’t asking a question as much as she was stating her plans out loud. 

Nobody had any objections to her plans. They moved outside, where Hermione was offered Mrs. Malfoy’s arm and Mr. Malfoy offered one arm each to Harry and Draco. Harry took note of how much easier it was for him to hold onto the man, now that he knew that Mr. Malfoy considered the Lupins as friends to his family. It was a little harder for Hermione to touch Mrs. Malfoy, and she needed to be softly reprimanded to hold on tighter, least lose her grip. Thus, the Malfoys apparated to Diagon Alley, accompanied by Harry and Hermione. 

Chapter Text

The two groups found themselves in a remote alleyway in Diagon Alley which the Malfoys had selected to avoid too much traffic. They quickly separated and Narcissa Malfoy steered herself and Hermione towards the more clothing centered parts of the alley, while Lucius Malfoy brought the two teenage boys towards his favorite tailor, who also happened to be quite expensive, and the only tailor in Britain which the Malfoys employed regularly. 

Diagon Alley was emptier than Harry remembered it, but that by no means meant that there were no people there. Harry grabbed a hold of Draco’s hand, and held it as Mr. Malfoy walked fearlessly in the direction he wanted to go in, and the people around him appeared to simply move to the side. 

Before they entered the tailor’s shop, they were met with a sign that said ‘reserved for Mr. Malfoy and company, no other customers may be accepted today. To book your own appointment, please contact the Madam by owlpost.’ 

The tailor shop smelled a little strange to Harry. He wasn’t used to the scent of fabrics, which made him feel a little confused over what to think about the scent. Well inside the shop, he tried to not make it too obvious that he felt a little lost among the shelves of fabric in various patterns and colors, one more expensive looking than the next. In the shop window, Harry had seen expensive looking outfits on mannequins, displaying cuts which he wasn’t sure he had actually seen before, and more familiar styles of clothing that Harry had seen Draco wear before. 

“My own personal vision in this, do feel free to interrupt me, Draco,” Mr. Malfoy had started speaking to the tailor and his son. 

The tailor was a rather round, middle aged woman. She had a round face, full breasts, and soft looking hands. Upon her nose sat a pair of black, thick rimmed glasses, and her clothes were no doubt made by herself, as the items captured everything her store appeared to be about. Bold fashion choices covered her, but every piece she wore suited with the rest, and lay flattering upon her body. Harry noticed absently that she was wearing a corset, which shaped her soft figure into a, as Draco had called it, fashionable hourglass shape. The corset was probably the main reason as to why her chest appeared so prominent at first glance.

While the fashionable people spoke about fashion, Harry tried not to gawk at a fabric roll which appeared to be made out of the sea. Harry couldn’t stop staring at it, feeling uncertain if it was actually enchanted or if the fabric was simply that curiously created. 

“But I want some touches of green in his outfit to compliment his eyes, as well as what Draco will be wearing in terms of makeup.” Mr. Malfoy continued, then stopped to address his son. “You do still intend on wearing green, do you not?” 

“Indeed,” Draco agreed before he pulled a collection of papers out of his inner jacket pocket, where they had been safely kept from the snow. “This is what I want to wear, and I want Mr. Lupin to match me but not be identical in terms of cut or style.” 

The fashion witch peered down at Draco’s drawing, then nodded. “A very good choice, young Mr. Malfoy. If I may suggest some minor changes?” She didn’t wait for Draco to respond, as she already knew that she had his approval. “I believe this could serve to be even bigger and longer, and that this might come off as a little odd, but with this minor adjustment…” She began to move her wand over the drawing, poking and adjusting while the Malfoys looked on, nodding with thought as she spoke about things that Harry couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

“That makes for a very lovely addition.” Mr. Malfoy agreed to something. “Don’t worry about the cost, Draco, you won’t be going to a ball like this in many years. The trail should indeed be bigger.” 

Harry could hear that Draco was smiling as he responded. “Thank you, father. I, too, think that the Madam’s change is a very pleasant one.” 

While the group became immersed with Draco’s outfit first, Harry elected to wander a little. The store was not impossibly large, which meant that he could always hear the others. It felt absolutely magical to wander amongst the fabric stands and simply take in just how different fabrics could be. Harry made a point out of not touching anything, but some fabrics made him curious enough to bend down for a closer look. 

Harry felt like he wandered forever up and down the fabric stands and was still able to find something new whenever he turned around and walked back again around the store. Finally, when he was called back to the tailor and the Malfoys, he was presented with a few rough sketches of clothing pieces. For the next half hour, he was presented with many options of styles, until he, Draco, Mr. Malfoy and the tailor had figured out what Harry liked and thought would make him feel comfortable. 

After this, they were asked to come back in an hour to allow the Madam to provide some sketches for Harry to study and approve of. Lucius Malfoy asked the teenagers if they had any errands that needed performing, upon which Harry politely and slightly shyly asked if they may visit the second hand shops, both the book one and the general one. The aristocratic wizard was not about to set foot in the store, but he brought the teenagers there so that they may look at the second hand items, while the man visited his own favorite store which dealt in magical artifacts. 

Harry felt a little strange spending his own money, some parts of him felt that he should give the money to Mr. Malfoy, rather than use it to buy things he wanted. When he voiced this insecurity to Draco, the other teenager assured him that offering his father money would be seen as an insult at this point. Thus, Harry was able to use his money to buy a few yarn balls in what he found to be fun colors. Running through the list in his head, Harry would ideally want to make something for: Remus, Professor Snape, Draco, Neville and Hermione, maybe Ron and Nott, and maybe, perhaps, Sirius and Dobby. That wasn’t very realistic, he would have to make a selection. 

Luckily, he found an old and beautifully illustrated book about flowers and plants, which made Harry think of Professor Snape. It didn’t cost much, as it was a Muggle based plant book, which included none of the practical and magical information about the flowers and plants. Still, Harry had already brought it before he could think too hard about it. Harry reasoned that he and Remus could share the present, thus making it easier for the Potions Master to accept. Hopefully. 

After this, Harry and Draco met up with Mr. Malfoy and returned to the tailor shop. Well inside, the witch presented Harry with three sketches of possible outfits that she could make for him to match with Draco. The two Malfoys allowed Harry to pick on his own, but they both approved of his choice, judging by their reaction. 

It all felt like it went very fast, but soon enough, Mr. Malfoy had placed the two orders for both their clothing. Harry was then asked to remove some layers and come to the backroom so that his measurements could be taken. As Harry sat waiting upon a bench by the door as Draco had his measurements taken and Mr. Malfoy was studying a fashion catalogue, the door gently swung open and allowed Mrs. Malfoy and Hermione inside. 

Hermione had a bright smile on her face, holding a few paper bags in her hands, which Harry rightly assumed to be full of clothes. She sat down next to Harry upon the bench, and hugged her bags tight to her. As Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy began to passively speak to one another about something, Hermione leaned in to whisper to Harry. 

“I’ve had the most amazing day.” 

Hermione Granger had been very nervous to be left alone with Narcissa Malfoy. She had always been rather nervous being alone with the woman in the past, but that had been rather fine and a good time, somehow this felt more honest and vulnerable. It was frightening enough to even touch the woman’s expensive coat, but even more frightening to see Draco and Harry leave, knowing that she was truly alone with Mrs. Malfoy, and that said woman knew the parts about Hermione which she herself felt the most uncomfortable with. 

When Hermione had seen Draco’s parents that day, she had to remind herself that the two of them were like her, in that they were both trans. She found herself searching the two adults for evidence that this was true. She peeked at Mrs. Malfoy’s throat, searching for an Adam’s apple, she looked at the woman’s somewhat bigger hands and feet and contemplated if her own would look alike the other woman’s when she grew older. Hermione spied on Mr. Malfoy as well, studying the layers he wore as well as his thighs, thinking about how maybe the man could possibly have more pronounced hips even if his attire made it practically impossible to tell. 

Then, it suddenly hit Hermione what she was doing; she was studying these two people and judging parts of them based on her own insecurities. Based on that she had been living in a society telling her all her life that these things mattered and should be searched for. The realisation made her feel like a bad person, before she realised that all she needed to no longer be bad was to acknowledge that her behavior hadn’t been healthy, and then stop it. She hadn’t hurt the two adults by looking, but she was actively going to harm herself if she allowed her own insecurities to go out over others. Of course, it was easier said than done to simply stop such a behavior after having had it enforced upon her that features which truly did not matter somehow mattered, but the young witch who was often called brilliant for her age, reasoned that if she knew that the behavior was there, she could train it away with time. 

Besides, looking or insecure thoughts of hers could never be worth more than the two other people’s own knowledge of who they were. Mrs. Malfoy wasn’t going to be any less of a woman because she had big hands. Mr. Malfoy wasn’t going to be less of a man because he possibly had round hips. Hermione had been looking at those parts of them, searching for evidence which she didn’t need of them somehow being different; she knew the man to be a man, and the woman to be a woman, because they said so. Only their opinions mattered, not their body parts. Besides, if she truly gave it a thought she’d realise that there were most likely people out there who were not trans who had similar features to them, if not even more pronounced, and Hermione very sincerely doubted that those features would make people doubt the gender of such people. It really only mattered because people normally looked for irrelevant features to confirm their own presumptions, often incorrectly so. 

Hermione waved goodbye to her friends, then turned to follow Narcissa Malfoy as the woman headed for the shopping parts of Diagon Alley where pre-made clothes were being sold. As they walked, Hermione peered up at the other woman, trying not to stare, like she always did when she was around Mrs. Malfoy. 

Mrs. Malfoy was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Hermione had thought so when she first saw her, and she still thought so now. Perhaps even more, although she found it hard to formulate why. Maybe it was simply the knowledge that Mrs. Malfoy was something that was achievable for Hermione too. A woman who was not a man in ill fitting dresses which were meant to terrify and shock an audience or media consumers, but a completely normal an elegant woman who simply happened to have been mistakenly perceived as male when she was born. 

Everything about the other woman made Hermione feel inspired in so many ways, and it meant incredibly much to her to know that there was a woman close to her that she could look up to as a healthy example. After all, Mrs. Malfoy wasn’t a mentally ill serial killer or murderer of women, but any other woman with a house, a family, and two dogs added to that. Hermione didn’t quite aspire to be exactly like Narcissa Malfoy, as she didn’t really want to be a housewife in a mansion, but she admired her with all her heart nonetheless. 

“There is something I’d like to discuss with you as we walk.” Mrs. Malfoy had stopped to offer her arm to Hermione. 

The younger woman accepted the arm, feeling her face heat as she did. Hermione nodded her head, signalling that she wasn’t minding the idea of a discussion. The two of them started walking again.

“I do not mean to come off as overly intrusive, but I’ve been informed by my son that your relationship with your parents has been relatively unstable as of late?” Mrs. Malfoy left the question hanging in the air. 

Hermione felt slight dread wash over her as she nodded to confirm Draco’s words. She tried very hard to not think about her mother’s careful and gentle, yet impossibly cruel words when she told Hermione that ‘maybe you should stop pretending. You won’t be mistaken for a girl when you grow older, so you shouldn’t wear skirts or dresses anymore. You have to understand, I’m telling this to you for your own safety. Someone might hurt you.’ The simple recollection of her mother’s words made Hermione’s eyes feel wet, but she aggressively blinked the tears away. She might cry about it later, but not right now. Not when she was in the presence of a woman like her, who proved her mother to be wrong about everything. 

“I have always had supportive parents, who found me a husband who suited my predicament most excellently, as I am expected to have children as a child of the Black lineage. Yet, there have been times where my sister acted and spoke in ways which were hurtful to me. While I cannot say for certain that she intended harm towards me, her ignorance and the limits of knowledge still caused me harm.” Mrs. Malfoy continued to speak while she walked, her eyes focused on the road ahead of them. “I cannot express how much comfort my husband has brought me over the years, as I do not have an especially large circle of friends, even if there are quite a lot of people like us. However, as I believe that it might assist your mental health, I am offering my services and my advice for you to partake in. If you ever need someone to speak to about your relationship to your body or gender, you may turn to me.” She paused. “Of course, I might be capable of offering other advice on other topics as well, should you need it.” 

Hermione struggled to find words as she looked up at the other woman. She would never have expected the other to offer her support in this way, and it made her feel incredibly happy, thankful and humble all at once. Mrs. Malfoy wasn’t trying to replace Hermione’s parents, but instead offering her assistance in helping a fellow trans woman feel better about herself. 

Hermione found herself gently squeezing the woman’s arm a little tighter to herself. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

Mrs. Malfoy put a gentle hand over Hermione’s, giving her gloved hand a squeeze. “It’s the least I can do. Now,” she stopped outside a clothing store. “Do you have a favorite color? I believe some undergarments might be a good place to begin.” 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat slightly at the thought of looking at underwear, as it was something her mother had never allowed her to do, and treated it as something dirty and forbidden. Still, she swallowed her insecurities and nodded. She was ready. She had nothing to fear, as according to her friends, people like Hermione were nothing but normal. She told herself that nobody in the shop would mind, and to her great surprise, nobody did. 

The two women were assisted by a store clerk, who, upon being informed by Mrs. Malfoy that this was Hermione’s first time trying out bras, wasted no time in providing Hermione with plenty of alternatives to try on. She even informed Hermione of how to close a bra without needing someone else’s assistance in a way which made Hermione feel comfortable.  

By the end of their stay at the store, Hermione had found three bras that she liked, whereas one was a slightly padded sports bra, which she imagined that she would wear a lot. Mrs. Malfoy had been the one to find it for her, as the store offered underwear for more than just cis women. To these three bras, Hermione had also gotten some underwear for her bottom half, which made her very happy, as her mother had refused her anything but trunks. Hermione accepted the bag from the clerk with a warm feeling in her chest. She hugged the bag with her new underwear to herself, while thanking Mrs. Malfoy from the depth of her heart. 

The next stop was to find some skirts for Hermione. This proved to be rather easy, although the two women found that they rather disagreed in what made a desirable skirt. They weren’t fighting in any way, but the clothes which Mrs. Malfoy pointed to were often far too colorful for Hermione’s tastes. Narcissa Malfoy favored colorful, longer skirts, in vivid patterns and expensive, decorated fabrics, which needed at least one layer of underskirts or petticoats to achieve their ideal shape. Hermione, in turn, desired a much more subtle style of fashion, preferring inoffensive brown shades, calm wine reds, tame greys or maybe some modest combination of them all. Mrs. Malfoy did by no means prefer Hermione’s choice of fashion to her own, but after a quick exchange of what Hermione actually wanted to wear, the older woman did her best to suggest clothes more to the teenage girl’s desires. In the end, no preference of the older witch could or should come before the young witch who was actually going to wear the clothes on a daily basis.

While Hermione tried on clothes in the dressing room, Narcissa Malfoy gave her a small and entertaining lecture about magical fashion and a subgenre of magic which Hermione had not known until Draco’s equally fashion conscious mother began telling her about it. 

“During a lot of fashion history as we know it, but more specifically from the later Renaissance onward, and Victorian and Edwardian times, a lot of layers were used to create certain effects upon the body. Everything from corsets to petticoats but also padding as well as other methods of filling out the clothes, these latter methods being extra prominent and quite the work to achieve the shapes. I hope you forgive me for using some more simpler terms, I don’t want to confuse you too much.” The woman stopped to make a slight disclaimer. 

“I don’t mind.” Hermione spoke up as she wrestled with a zipper which had been placed at the back of the skirt she was currently trying to figure out. 

“Very well. A thing to keep in mind is that the periods of fashion I will be discussing span comparatively long periods of time, we are not speaking about a set type of style which lasted for ten years, but about different fashion spanning over a hundred years. As can be expected over such a long period of time, fashion did not remain stagnant.” Mrs. Malfoy continued, never once moving from her position of guarding the door to Hermione’s dressing room, and never once attempting to glance inside or hurry the teenage girl up. She let Hermione take her time, while entertaining herself with telling her current ward about one of her many interests, namely fashion. 

Hermione listened with interest as she inspected herself in the mirror, uncertain if this skirt really was one she found herself wanting. Still, simply seeing the skirt upon her body made her feel happy, despite not perfectly enjoying it as the piece for her wardrobe. 

“However, you can imagine how long it took to simply be dressed in the mornings, and the constant clothing changes which were expected of any fine lady to keep up with etiquette and expectations would take up a sizable proportion of the day. Women of the time did not have so much of a choice but to keep up, but in the wake of this problem grew a certain magical industry of enchanted garments. Of course, it was only for mages, not those Muggles, but I hardly think I need to make that disclaimer. This industry provided enchanted garments and clothing pieces which kept their shape without the need for the layers and the padding and the like. I personally have quite the collection of garments which have been magically enchanted in this manner, they are invaluable during hot summer days when a petticoat can be quite so challenging on the body. Nonetheless, I am telling you about this with the intention of letting you know that it exists, as it is a comparatively small magic field of study, and one which you are not likely to learn about at Hogwarts. As you grow older, it might become invaluable to you, as you will likely be able to enchant your own garments to achieve a figure which agrees with the woman you have grown to be.” 

Mrs. Malfoy halted herself, then continued. Hermione could not see her face, so she did not know that the other woman was frowning slightly to herself as she realised something. 

“Of course, it might be that the figure you come to have as you grow older is the one you desire,” Mrs. Malfoy continued, “and then you may have no need for this field of magic at all. I have personally had great use for it, but I do not presume you to be the same as me. I might have, back in my simpler days, but I am old enough to know that no people’s experiences can ever be the exact same, even if situations may overlap and understanding may be shared through it. As such, I do not presume to know what you want. However, I may also offer assistance in ways which have helped me personally, but it is up to you if you consider it worth your time or not.” 

Hermione smiled to herself as she switched her current skirt for another one that she found herself liking a lot more in the mirror. It seemed to Hermione that the woman was struggling a little bit with honest conversations like these, as if Narcissa Malfoy expected every word she uttered to somehow be held against her if she didn’t appropriately make disclaimers. Hermione didn’t mind very much, as she knew herself to do similar things in other scenarios such as speaking about school subjects. She also recognised the behaviour in Draco. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Malfoy, I will most certainly look into the field. I believe I understand well what you mean when you say that simple padding or layers might become quite warm in the summer.” Somehow, it felt equally forced and natural to respond equally politely.

“Indeed.” The older woman sighed, likely remembering hot days in her past which had put quite the toll on her body. “I would recommend that you enhance a bra before summer, as padding upon your upper body will not be too pleasant then. Then again, you are young, there is no need to rush into enchanted garments unless you want it.” 

Hermione hesitated for a moment while holding another skirt that she had found pleasant on the hanger but not quite as nice in the mirror. It felt uncomfortable to think about enchanting something to make her chest appear a certain way. She knew that Mrs. Malfoy was only offering assistance, and the teenage girl appreciated it, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to center her self expression around her chest area. For now, the bras she had was enough, and with the skirts and the new underwear, Hermione felt more comfortable with herself than ever before. Maybe she would want an enchanted bra in the future, but for now, the slightly padded sports bra and the other bras were more than enough for her.

On top of that, having had it confirmed with all her friends, and yet again confirmed all around her, that she was allowed to be the woman she is without proving to belong to any certain mold to anyone, it felt even easier to be a little more confident, and a lot more comfortable.

Hermione continued to try on a lot of different skirts, she tried on pleated skirts, A-line skirts, panel skirts, gathered skirts, pencil skirts and one tiered skirt. She didn’t so much like that last one, as it reminded her of a children’s skirt. The pencil skirts caused her movements to become too restricted, plus, she didn’t like the way it made her look like a paintbrush with her hair on top. Some of the A-line skirts were a little too short, but she found herself liking the panel, pleated and gathered skirts, which all made her feel good about her shapes. In the end, she found herself with a grey pleated skirt, a brown pleated skirt, a black panel skirt, and a longer gathered skirt in a wine red color. To this, Narcissa Malfoy added some tights and high socks, both thicker ones and ones that would be more suited for warmer weather. Hermione got the bag from the cashier, upon which she hugged it to herself, feeling the weight of all those skirts in her arms and felt how her eyes became slightly wet with happiness. 

The teenage girl had expected that to be the end of their shopping, but Narcissa Malfoy had other plans. She brought Hermione to another store where they picked out two cardigans for her to match her new skirts. Mrs. Malfoy acknowledged that it wasn’t needed, but she expressed that she wanted Hermione to have some cardigans which allowed her to grow in them. The two they picked were a simple brown one which was incredibly soft to the touch, and a brown, red and yellow colorblock one which made Hermione feel like she was dressing in Gryffindor colors. The sleeves were somewhat longer and covered most of her hands, but like Mrs. Malfoy said “you will grow into it. Better to have something that you can grow into than something you can’t help growing out of.” 

Hermione liked that way of phrasing it. It made growing seem like an opportunity, rather than something shameful or regrettable. 

After buying all of this, Mrs. Malfoy looked at the time, and decided that it was time to meet up with her husband, child and Harry, whom the woman of course referred to as Mr. Lupin. Hermione had no objections to this, and so, they began making their way to the tailor shop. Hermione walked in silence with all her bags for a few minutes, but then found herself needing to speak up about something. 

“Mrs. Malfoy? I was wondering if it is possible for you to save those receipts?” Hermione spoke with slight hesitation. “I understand that it might come off as rude, but I would really like to repay you for all of this in the future, when I actually have an economy which allows me to. I mean no disrespect, I want to do this because I do not want to take advantage of someone else.” 

Mrs. Malfoy studied Hermione for a few seconds, then offered her a very small smile. “Very well, if that is what you wish. I will not hold you to those words, and I will never demand that you repay me, but if it is what you want, I will keep those receipts for you.” 

Hermione let out a breath that she hadn’t known that she was holding. “Thank you so much, it will likely take some years, but I would still like to try and repay you.”

Mrs. Malfoy offered her arm for Hermione to take, so that they may walk with their arms linked. She took it, although it was a little hard to carry all her clothes in one hand. Still, not hard enough that she couldn’t do it. 

The two women arrived at the tailor shop where they separated, with Mrs. Malfoy walking over to her husband and Hermione joining Harry next to the door. She knew that her day wasn’t quite over yet, as she was supposed to have her measurements taken so that one of Mrs. Malfoy’s old dresses could be adjusted to her. This revelation had been somewhat distressing to the young woman, but after being assured that Mrs. Malfoy could no longer fit into the dress, and was mostly keeping it due to sentimental reasons, Hermione allowed herself to not be upset about it. Mrs. Malfoy had even expressed nostalgic joy over that such an old gown would be reused at a suitable event, as it seemed to have been one of the first proper gowns in the Madam's possession back in the day.

“I’ve had the most amazing day.” 

As Hermione said the words out loud, she was overwhelmed with a feeling that she wasn’t sure if she had ever quite felt before. The feeling that she truly belonged somewhere. That the mage community was filled with people like her and various people not like her who all let her simply exist and be part of that.

That she was actually, finally, home. 

Chapter Text

Harry was getting ready together with Nott and Goyle in their dormitory at the night of the Yule Ball. Blaise had taken over the bathroom for quite some time now, but none of them really needed access to water, thus they didn’t really mind. 

Draco and Hermione were getting ready in the Room of Requirements, as they had planned for quite some time now. The two of them had been spending a lot of time there, working out how to style Hermione’s hair in a way which would make her feel satisfied with the styling. At first, she had suggested that they should flatten her hair and make it appear completely different from how it normally appeared, but after some discussion together with Draco, they realised that she didn’t actually want her hair to be flat, but had been told by the other girls that it was what she should want. After they realised this, it was easier for Draco to suggest hairstyles which would take advantage of her natural curls, rather than be hindered by them. Draco had proudly reported that they had found a great choice three days before the ball, with a very pleased air about himself. Harry, for one, knew how much Hermione’s styling meant to his best friend, and he was happy that the two had found a way which achieved Draco’s goal of making Hermione feel happy about herself. Besides, it seemed clever to actually practice and try out what they wanted to look like before the evening itself, so that the two of them didn’t risk it not turning out exactly the way they wanted.

Harry knew that Neville and Ron were likely helping each other out in the Gryffindor dormitory. He hoped that things were going well for them. 

Goyle had already finished, except that he was struggling with his tie. Both Nott and Goyle wore similar, rather untraditional, clothing with suit trousers and black tailcoats which resembled those worn by Muggles at important events. Still, the ones worn by mages had a little more flair to them in shape and the inside lining of the tailcoats were expected to be patterned or at the very least colored. Plain and all black outfits were not to be found amongst this type of fashion. The tailcoat and suit trousers combo was the current height of new age mage fashion and had been for the last twenty or so years. Harry expected to see some people adhere to this fashion style, but far more who would try and stand out with some more unique pieces. Still, it was a very good fashion choice for people who didn’t necessarily want to stand out among a crowd, but still appear put together and fashionable. Nott’s tailcoat had an almost hypnotic pattern with a mix of bright colors gathering in swirls in the lining, while Goyle’s was green velvet. His outfit was completed by the inclusion of the green velvet rose which he had been given as he was asked to the ball, and which was securely kept in one of the button holes. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Goyle dropped the tie, allowing it to hang around his neck as he looked over towards Harry and Nott. “Hey, can any of you make a knot?” Goyle asked. 

Nott let his tie drop as well with a frustrated noise. “I cannot.” 

Goyle frowned at him. “So you can knot?”

“No, I can not knot.” Nott tried again.

Goyle frowned even harder at him. “You mean you can knot, or you cannot knot?” 

Nott frowned in return. “Uh, I think the second one? How do you know? Both of those sound the same.” 

Just then, Blaise exited the bathroom, fully dressed up. He was dressed in similar fashion to Nott and Goyle, except that his tailcoat had a few embroidery patterns along the sleeves, collar and tail in a somewhat metallic gold shade, potentially enchanted. The lining of his coat had a finer golden jacquard fabric. Around his neck was a somewhat modern cravat in a slightly transparent and patterned gold fabric. His face was shimmering ever so slightly in golden tones, and he seemed to have a small amount of golden eyeshadow, as well as ever a slight golden shimmer to his lips. All in all, it seemed Blaise wasn’t too adamant on standing out far too much for the evening, yet managed to look very stylish and aware of his own choices. He looked the three other teenagers over, noticing that both Goyle and Nott were struggling. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Blaise asked, leaning his head to the side with a patient smile on his lips. 

“Nott cannot knot.” Goyle explained. 

His comment earned a frown from Blaise. “Not can not… Oh, Nott cannot tie a tie?” He stopped when he understood what he had just said, looking highly displeased with the wordplay that he had accidentally found himself participating in. 

Harry, Nott and Goyle couldn’t hold back from chuckling slightly at his evident displeasure. Blaise shook his head once more, then waved for both Goyle and Nott to come over, whereas he began to help them tie their ties, much to both teenagers’ relief. 

Harry looked himself in the mirror, studying his own reflection. It felt strange to see himself like this, not dressed in pre-owned clothes which were always just a little too big or a little too tattered to make him appear collected. No, today he wore brand new clothes which made him look so very different, even if the familiar face, with somewhat curled black hair, and his round glasses which framed his green eyes made it possible for Harry to recognise himself. He wasn’t sure if this was how he wanted to see himself all the time and always, but he was happy with what he saw in the mirror, as the clothes really did look great. 

Harry was dressed in the clothes which the Malfoy family had bought for him per Draco’s request. This wasn’t the first time that he had tried the clothes on, but it was the first time that he had put it on together with the shoes that Draco had lent him last minute. The shoes were a little too big, but with the help of some strategic sock padding, they had made it work.

The outfit consisted of a sort of mixture between a tailcoat and a waistcoat, or so Harry thought since the piece was sleeveless. It was the main piece of his outfit, and consisted out of a fabric with a layer of rather voluminous thick lace over the entire piece, creating for a pleasant three dimensional effect. The waistcoat with a tail was double breasted and thus had two rows of buttons down along the front, all of which Harry thought looked like decorated brooches rather than mere buttons. Not to mention that the rather wide collar of the waistcoat and the tail were both covered in clusters of small green gems, slightly varying in size in a somewhat unpredictable manner. Draco had ensured Harry that the gems were not actually emeralds, but rather a finer form of gemstone imitation made out of glass, which Harry had forgotten the name of afterwards. The clusters of gem imitations were the most concentrated on the tail and collar, and then had gems spreading out from each place becoming almost like a starry green night sky. Draco had insisted on the black piece to be sleeveless because it avoided Harry simply becoming a black blob with all the swirly laced textures matching his curly hair too well and thus removing a lot of shape and consistency.

Under his waistcoat Harry wore a white dress shirt with smaller bell sleeves which weren’t as grandiose as those Draco sometimes wore. The collar was slightly ruffled and had a matching ruffled and elegant cravat, with an actual green snake brooch at the center top. The cuffs of the sleeves were customized to be made out of the waistcoat fabric and lace, and were also covered in clusters of the imitation gems, which spread ever so slightly upwards on the sleeves.

He wore black well fitted trousers with a fabric which felt softer and more comfortable than more or less anything he could recall wearing. Lastly he wore Draco’s black polished shoes, allowing for the look to appear complete. 

Blaise looked over at Harry before leaving the room to pick Neville up. Still, before he left, Blaise praised Harry for his outfit, to which Harry praised his overall appearance in return. Blaise left the room with a slightly cocky expression and a somewhat self satisfied smirk playing on his lips, after claiming that he knew that he looked good. Harry wished that he could have some of that confidence, as he didn’t quite feel ready to leave the safety of the dormitory yet. 

Goyle left after Blaise, while Harry and Nott both remained, hesitating slightly in exiting the calmness of their room, which didn’t demand anything of them in terms of being social or dancing. Still, Harry was supposed to open the ball by dancing with his date and the champions, which meant that he didn’t have time to remain staring at his reflection, hoping that nothing was out of place which he hadn’t noticed. It seemed that when a piece was well fitted for his body, it didn’t move out of place in strange manners from mere movements, which was a relief. With one last glance into the mirror, and a minor adjustment, Harry turned towards the doors, ready to go face the Yule Ball, and his date. Not that he was in any way scared of Draco, it was quite the opposite, that he was nervous of being so happy that he became clumsy or embarrassing to be around. For Harry knew that Draco would be absolutely stunning, and he was crushing on his best friend with hopeless abundance for the moment. 

The Yule Ball was held in the Great Hall, which meant that most couples from different Houses or schools met one another in the entrance hall. Harry arrived to find that Draco and Hermione weren’t there yet. However, he did see the champions gathered in a corner of the entrance hall with their dates, with the exception of Krum. 

Krum stood alone, a bit to the side from the other champions, absently allowing his eyes to wander the hall, searching for Hermione. A relaxed air seemed to be hanging around him where he stood leaning slightly onto his right leg, with his left hand resting casually on his hip. He was dressed in a coat in a darker tone of red with brown fur lining at the ends, yet the same kind of fur had been cut into elaborate shapes and swirls and delicately sewn into decorations on the coat itself, with black embroidery framing and probably hiding the seams around the fur. His dress shirt was black, but had red embroidery patterns at the collar and sleeve cuffs. Upon Krum’s right shoulder was a layered decorated brown leather piece, reminding a little of an epaulette without actually being one, and it seemed to hold a shimmering layered one-shoulder-cape in various fabrics, textures and shades of red and black. Around his waist was a decorated brass belt with red gems in it, gems which Harry had a faint suspicion were the real deal. 

Krum’s eyes came to rest upon Harry after they had done a few sweeps over the hall. After that, he approached Harry without hesitation, even giving Harry a little smile as he reached him. “I did not recognise you. You look good.” With those words, Harry realised that the reason Krum hadn’t approached him right away was because he simply hadn’t been able to identify Harry. 

Harry smiled at him and shrugged. He found that Krum was standing very close to him, which made him a little nervous, seeing as the other was rather large and intimidating when he was that close. He scooted to the side, but the large Quidditch player followed him. 

Before Harry could question the invasion of privacy, Krum spoke up in a humble tone of voice. “It is very loud in here. I do not mean to be rude, but I can not hear you.” 

Harry blinked, feeling slightly stupid for not having realised why Krum appeared so dismissive of his private space. He wasn’t dismissive at all, just slightly desperate to try and hear in this comparatively unfriendly hearing space. Harry smiled at the other, noting that Krum had a faint look of worry in his eyes. “Stay as close as you need to hear. I’m not troubled by closeness, in fact, I usually like it, but I’m afraid of getting stuck in that fur with my gems.” 

Krum actually smiled back, a soft, less polite smile which seemed to surprise the teenager as much as it surprised Harry. Krum quickly looked to the side, not like a scared animal, but like a person who had realised that he had lost control of himself for a moment. “...You know… Hermione is the only one calling me Victor in this country. Not even Headmaster Karkaroff uses my first name, and I do not see my family enough to be used to the sound of my own name. I would… Uh, you can call me Victor too, if you would like…” He trailed off. 

When he got to the point, Harry found himself smiling at the other, feeling proud to have earned the right to address the Trimagus champion by his first name. “I’d like that. You can call me Harry in return.” 

Victor leaned back after having leaned in to listen to what Harry was saying, turning his less damaged ear towards him as he spoke. Once again, he was smiling slightly. “Great. Yes. Good.” After answering, Victor looked around, avoiding Harry so as to not allow the younger teenager to see that he was actually quite visibly happy about the exchange. 

Victor’s eyes locked onto something in the distance. He reached out and gave Harry a small nudge, then nodded towards the stairs. This time, a bigger smile was actually lighting up his features. Harry looked towards where Victor was indicating, expecting to see Draco and Hermione. While he was right in his assumption, it did in no way prepare him for what he actually saw when he looked up the stairs and at his two friends. 

Harry’s eyes fell on Hermione first, who walked arm in arm with Draco in a green ball gown. The gown was an emerald green just slightly darker than that of Draco’s outfit, a color in which Harry had never seen Hermione before, but which somehow suited her elegantly. The gown reminded Harry of Renaissance paintings of regal women and princesses. It had long sleeves which went as far as covering part of her hands with decorated black lace. The gown was fitted with a very high waist, and then fell elegantly without being too wide, and had a decorated front of black lace fabric, framed with even more elaborate black lace. The faint shimmering made Harry realise that the lace probably incorporated some sort of gems as well. Lastly, the piece seemed to have an attached lace trail, almost like a cape at the back, which floated behind Hermione as she walked.

Her hair had been put in a hairstyle which Harry recalled Draco having described as Romantic, which was supposedly some sort of fashion era. It had been pulled back and braided like a hairband over her head with seemingly decorated hair pins within those braids shimmering in dark silvery metals and green gems, and then became practically a magnificent mane of hair falling over her shoulders and back, having been successfully controlled and removed from her face.

She was wearing a somewhat wider necklace of what seemed to be black pearls, as well as a green silk choker necklace with black details Harry couldn't quite make out from the distance.

To her right was Draco, who matched her so well that they appeared to be a couple. Some voices around them in the hall whispered, someone close by noted that whoever Draco Malfoy had secured as his date, they didn’t quite recognise her. Someone else whispered to their friends that the green gown was gorgeous, while another group of voices whispered positively about Draco’s appearance. All in all, not a lot of people paid them any attention, it wasn’t like everything and everyone stopped to look at Draco and Hermione, yet some actually did.

Still, Harry heard none of it, as he was busy taking in Draco in all his beauty. Draco was wearing the clothing which he himself had helped design, and Harry couldn’t help but think that his date truly had known what he wanted, but also what looked good on him. Draco had never actually allowed Harry to see the outfit until that point, wanting it to be somewhat a surprise.

Draco wore a jacket with a higher front cut, which was perfectly fit to his body, even if Harry recalled that the other was, probably, wearing a corset as well, creating part of the shape. The shade of green velvet fabric was a little brighter than Hermione’s dress, and rather well matched the gems on Harry’s outfit, being slightly warmer in tone than everything green in Hermione’s gown.

It was elaborately decorated with black laces and more visible jet black gems, lavishly spreading out in patterns from his collar area. All the edges, including the ones along the silver front clasps also had black lace running along them. The bell sleeves of the velvet jacket were enormous, truly massive, and the cuffs were decorated as well. It seemed the outfit, similar to Harry’s, had gems spreading from certain areas to create a more asymmetrical decorative pattern.

Under the jacket was a visible black belt sash in what seemed to be some kind of faintly shimmering patterned fabric, but it was hard to tell the details from afar. This made his white dress shirt and white cravat only visible at his neck area.

Draco wore fitted black trousers, far more so fitted than Harry’s, with an expensive lace trim decorating the outer leg seam from beginning to end on both sides, with more of the gems incorporated into the lace. The trousers seemed to fit naturally with the black leather boots which were surprisingly tall, and even from afar clearly were textured with some kind of elaborate patterns engraved into the leather. However, Draco had promised Harry not to wear heels of any sort. 

Yet, when Draco moved along the stairs the most impressive part of his outfit became visible. The sides and back of the jacket tied into a large layered trail, both voluminous and decorated. The trail consisted of folded heavy silk fabric, in a green to match the velvet, which had been worked into decorative patterns, in layers, with two rose-like shapes for each layer, increasing in size for every one of them. Above said fabric was another trail in a thin shimmering green fabric which was mostly transparent, yet layered in a manner which almost made it appear like a waterfall over shaped rocks. It was held into its position by black lace decorations in several places, roughly under each folded silk rose pair. No efforts had been spared in decorating the thinner trail with black gems. The entirety of the shape shifted both with certain weight and stability, yet a sense of weightlessness as Draco walked, making it seem like the trail might have been somehow enchanted for easier movement. 

Victor lightly pushed Harry with his elbow before offering him his arm. In turn, Harry snapped out of his trance upon being touched. He accepted the arm, and together they strode across the entrance hall to the foot of the stairs, at the top of which Draco and Hermione had appeared, but had now worked their way to the bottom of. The four people, including Victor, exchanged smiles, as Draco handed Hermione over to Victor and was handed Harry in return. Hermione was practically glowing with happiness where she stood next to the young man, meaning that her own femininity stood in stark contrast to most of the Quidditch player’s masculinity. 

Harry on the other hand, only had eyes for his date. Draco smiled at him, and Harry smiled back as the two of them linked arms and began to follow Hermione and Victor towards the other waiting champions.

Draco seemed to have elected to curl some of his fringe ever so slightly, allowing him to match Harry a little bit more. He was further wearing some manner of green eyeshadow which sparkled ever so slightly. Harry noticed that unlike Blaise, Draco had not chosen to paint his lips in any manner.

“You look amazing.” Harry found himself breathing the words more than he spoke them. 

“Thank you. You look stunning.” Draco responded as he squeezed Harry’s hand. 

“Thank you.” Harry felt a little shy as he was complemented by his best friend. Yet he wasn’t embarrassingly shy, but a pleasant, happy shy which made it hard to meet Draco’s eyes.  

The two of them joined the three champions and their dates. Harry realised that he was on the wrong side of Draco, and scooted around so that he stood on the same side as the rest of the champions. Standing next to this group, Harry found that he had time to take in the other people’s outfits before it was time for them to open the ball with the first dance. 

His eyes were immediately drawn to Diggory and his partner, who Harry only knew as Cho based on Diggory’s own comments. Now that Harry was closer to the young woman, he thought he recognised her from Remus’ patronus classes last year. Diggory and Cho were the most colorful of the champions, and the only ones with a clear theme. That theme being a celestial body theme, with Diggory as the sun, and Cho was dressed in a star themed gown more than she was dressed to remind of the moon.

Out of all the gowns Harry could spot within the ballroom, none was quite as attention catching and elaborate as hers. The upper body of the gown was a short sleeved, form fitted, cut in some manner of dark blue velvet, with rich golden laces in several layers and shades creating star patterns down the front, as well as decorating all the edges and seams. The upper body piece cut into the skirts in an asymmetrical star shape. Said skirts were relatively wide with layered transparent ruffles in dark blue fabrics of several shades, as well as sparkling stars and small decorations upon them. It seemed the fabric had been enchanted to truly appear that of a shimmering night sky, which was evident as the young woman moved and shifted. A long transparent cloak in similar fabric to the skirts had been attached and worked into the lace around her collarbones, falling softly over the back of her outfit without trailing onto the ground.

Her hair had been put up neatly and tightly in an elaborate style with hair clips in the shape of decorative stars being placed to create a pattern along the side and back of her head. A single moon-shaped larger hair clip was placed as a sort of centerpiece of the hairstyle, with the stars around it.

Diggory in turn wore shades of yellow and gold. The cut of his outfit reminded Harry of a lot of the old Renaissance portraits of great mages which hung at various places within the castle. Especially due to the sleeves beings wide enough to rival Draco’s, which also had neatly placed holes in a pattern atop them, with decorated edges, displaying the shiny white fabric underneath decorated with pearls. He had a decorated jewellery belt, akin to that which Victor was wearing, but in a much more golden tone. Diggory had not changed his own overall physical appearance in any noticeable manner, but wore a golden circlet with a decorative sun.

At his hip hung a decorated sword which any Hogwarts student would almost certainly recognise as what the paintings of Godric Gryffindor’s sheathed sword looked like. It was most likely an imitation, but it was a very good one, and it seemed that Diggory’s outfit altogether was meant to display some of Hogwarts’ cultural heritage. 

Next to Diggory and his date stood Delacour with their partner, the two of them had dressed in a matching fashion, even if they didn’t exactly have a discernible theme as the aforementioned couple. 

Delacour had once more dressed in a fashion which reminded Harry of a fairy tale prince, their hair pleasantly curled and allowed to fall freely over their shoulders, and another outfit in shades of light blue so pale that it could have been white, as well as shades of silver. The upper body piece was a bell sleeved dress shirt, like Harry’s not too wide sleeves, but with immense amount of lacing and decoration, and possibly with a layer of thin shimmery translucent fabric over the blue fabric. The front of the dress shirt also had an immense amount of decorative lace with seemingly light blue gems of various shades in it, as well as some pearls. Yet beside that immensely decorated dress shirt, the outfit was fairly simple. They wore a wider belt sash in several decorative fabrics, with one final layer of silver jewellery and gems, and white trousers as fitted as those which Draco was wearing. They were wearing knee high boots which were probably enchanted to appear almost metallic silver. They wore a cape attached to decorative jewellery pieces atop their shoulders, in a patterned lace fabric shifting in gradience between white and blue.

Their partner, who seemed to be presenting as male, wore a wider neck cut, a bit akin to that of Hermione’s gown. The top of the outfit felt like a decorated and advanced upper piece which was neither a dress shirt nor a coat of any kind, but rather a more masculine upper body of a gown. While he wore trousers which were slightly less fitted than Delacour’s, the waist had a large trail of several layers of matching lace fabrics, creating almost the silhouette of an actual ball gown, although the skirt trails were partly translucent and together with the opening in the front gave away that it wasn’t truly a gown. He wore a decorated circlet, and had rather wavy shorter hair, perhaps even made waiver with styling, which was by no means held down by the circlet mostly decorating his forehead. He had a bit of stylish facial hair as well, mostly a small beard upon his chin. The young man’s eyes gleamed with joy, and he seemed to glow in similar manners to Hermione. 

The only couple which didn’t really match was Hermione and Victor, whose red and green outfits contrasted each other in a way which made them appear pleasing next to one another but not like they had coordinated their outfits together.

As Harry found himself taking in everyone’s outfits, Hermione was happily speaking to Victor about something, leaning in close and speaking clearly so that he had the chance to actually hear her, while Cho and Delacour’s date were discussing her dress. Harry caught some stray pieces of the conversation, despite not really trying to listen in. 

“It is my mother’s dress, you see,” Cho was telling the other, who appeared almost too old to be referred to as a teenager. “I’ve always dreamt about wearing it, since I was a child. My mother is a small woman, for being an adult, and I was horrified to learn that I might be outgrowing it. You can imagine my joy when this Yule Ball is being held and I find that I actually fit into it. In short, it has been my dream to wear this dress since forever.” 

“That dress is the dream.” Delacour’s date agreed, nodding heartily as he looked the gown up and down with a pleased look on his face. “Absolutely wonderful, I’m happy for you.” 

“Thank you, I don’t think I could be happier than today, especially now that I’m allowed to attend. Can you believe that they wouldn’t let people below year seven attend before? Madness!” She huffed and shook her head. In doing so, she happened to notice Harry and Draco. Her face lit up as she saw Harry, and she hurried away from Diggory and moved over to Harry. “I wanted to take the time to thank you, Lupin. It is wonderful of you to arrange it so we all are allowed to attend the Yule Ball.” She offered Harry her hand. “I’m Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw. I’m in fifth year.”  

Harry smiled at her, reaching forward to shake her hand. “I really didn’t do much, but thank you. I’m glad that you are happy with the outcome.” The other was a little different to how Harry had experienced the young woman from afar, but then again, this was the night of the Yule Ball, which meant that tonight might not be the best time to assume someone’s entire personality based on how they appeared outwardly. 

Chang opened her mouth to continue speaking, but the group was interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who had approached them dressed in what Harry presumed to be her best robes. Harry wasn’t used to seeing her in red, but today, she was boldly displaying her House pride as the Head of Gryffindor. Even her hat matched her red dress and robes. 

“Champions, line up with your partners on the left, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Malfoy do the same, with Mr. Malfoy to the left.” Professor McGonagall instructed. 

Without any hesitation and without much fuss, the champions as well as Harry and Draco lined up. Delacour was the first in their parade with their partner, followed by Diggory and Chang, then Victor and Hermione, followed at last by the unwilling champion and his more than willing date. Professor McGonagall signalled for them all to begin walking, and so, they entered the Great Hall in a line. 

The Great Hall looked surprisingly much the same to Harry. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the minimal decoration of simple yet elegant added frost upon the arches, along the columns and some upon the tables made for a rather different feeling than usual. The light above them was no longer as naturally yellow as it was when the floating candles were administering their warm light upon the Hall, instead, the light was slightly more blueish, and a little colder than natural light. The tables had all been removed and pushed to the sides of the giant hall, allowing as much space as possible for the dancers. At the back of the hall and to the left stood a table with drinks, next to which was placed some simple snack-like foods which could be eaten without great worry about one’s outfit. At the very back of the Great Hall, two doors had been opened and labelled ‘outside’. Harry assumed that they would lead somewhere, well, outside, where one could breathe some fresh air, and maybe sneak a kiss from one’s partner in peace. However, while the Great Hall looked somewhat different, Harry had seen it change enough over the years to not find the new Hall as magically different as he might have found it as a child. It was still the Great Hall. Everything Harry knew was still there, just under a layer of decoration. 

The champions gathered in the middle of the room, spread out enough to not be too close to one another. Harry and Draco took up positions, just like they had been taught in dance class. At first, Harry allowed himself to glance around, trying to spot the band as he placed a hand on Draco’s hip and held out the other for his hand. He spotted the musicians, who were located by the left wall from the entrance, and were hidden behind a crowd of people who gathered to watch the first dance. 

After finding where the music would be coming from, and realising that he didn’t want to know anything more about the people who were watching them, Harry focused on Draco. For half a second, or maybe more, Harry forgot where he was as he met the other teenager’s grey gaze. He felt Draco’s hand in his, felt his own hand on the other’s hip, and Draco’s other hand upon his shoulder. Draco was smiling at him, not a confident or mocking smile, but a gentle, perhaps even shy smile which made him appear absolutely perfect in Harry’s eyes. Harry took the opportunity to lightly squeeze Draco’s hand, earning a pleasant squeeze back, alongside a glint of happiness in his partner’s eyes. 

The music began to play, and the champion’s dance began. Harry moved as he had been taught to, managing almost perfectly through the event. The errors he made were minor enough that only he and Draco noticed, and mainly consisted out of moving a little too fast or too slow when Harry got distracted by Draco’s eyes, or his smile, or a stray thought otherwise regarding the beautiful teenager whom he was dancing with. 

Then, the music halted, and the three champions, their dates, as well as Harry and Draco, stopped to bow to the audience, remaining for a few seconds to face the applause. Harry and Draco bowed as one, having practiced it as per request of Draco. At that moment, with the applause raining over them, and with Draco holding his hand, everything felt rather great. Harry glanced at his date, his breathing was slightly sped up, but he wasn’t panting. With a smile, Harry silently asked Draco how he had done. The wink which he got back translated into pretty good. It really hadn't been that hard to do once he actually practiced properly and had somebody give him proper instructions.

The music shyly began once more, and more people joined the dance floor. Among those, Harry noticed Crabbe and Parkinson; Nott, Ron and the Beauxbatons student they were going with, as well as Blaise and Neville. Draco shifted his grip on Harry, now making it so that he was in a better position to lead. Harry felt himself relax as he was no longer solely in focus by the crowd. Draco squeezed his hand, gently assuring Harry that Draco was about to lead from now on. Harry squeezed back, thankful to have the other take control. 

The dance started again, and the couples and groups on the floor began moving, dancing around circles in the Great Hall. This dance was a little less structured, which allowed for more diverse styles of dancing to be combined within the dance. Harry wasn’t sure for how long he danced with Draco, but when they got off the dance floor, Harry felt a little too warm. Added to that, he was definitely panting slightly by now. They found a bench for Harry to sit down on while the more athletic teenager went to get them both something to drink. 

Soon enough, Harry was joined by Ron, who sat down heavily next to him. “Oh man… Teddy and Maddy sure can dance… I’m getting tired for one, and I work out way more than Teddy.” He sighed deeply as he rested against the back of his chair, a smile playing on his lips. “How’s your evening?” He grinned towards Harry. 

Harry smiled back. “I’m having a great time. Is Nott and, uh, Maddy, still dancing?” Harry looked towards the dance floor. 

He spotted Parkinson and Crabbe move past, locked in dancing. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing Parkinson that happy. In the whirl of movements, it was a little hard to see exactly what she was wearing, but it seemed rather clear that her outfit had trousers in a softer fabric, which in movement seemed to be wide enough to move as gracefully as the skirts of the ballgowns around her. To add to that she was wearing a tunic with long, wide and decorated sleeves, almost reaching the floor in length, while being opened from elbow height so that her arms were allowed free movement. Harry thought he spotted some lace and decorative roses, and the entire outfit was a tasteful mixture of shades of purple and silvery tones of grey. Crabbe in turn seemed to have matched her by making sure that his tailcoat had purple hints in it, and there seemed to be some kind of rose decorations on the collar. 

“Yeah, she is great, by the way. Oh, have you seen Hermione yet?” Ron sat up a little better. “She looks awesome. Krum looks awesome too. I’m so jealous.” He laughed, leaning his head to the side. 

Harry could tell that he probably wasn’t lying about being jealous, but that he wasn’t allowing it to get to him. He recalled what the other had been like when they first met. Ron had grown a lot, most of it hadn’t really been his own choosing until last year. However, since then, he had improved a lot, both as a person and as a friend. 

“Yikes.” Ron pulled back. “You’re giving me the same look as Professor Lupin did whenever I tried to answer a question at his lessons.” 

“I am?” Harry laughed, although he looked away. A strange mixture of happiness and embarrassment filled him when he was likened to his dad. 

“Hi guys!” Hermione called out to them before she more or less fell into the seat next to Harry. If she hadn’t been wearing makeup, her cheeks would have been slightly shiny and sweaty with excitement and exhaustion. “Victor went to get something to drink, I’m sure not used to all this movement… Is Draco still dancing?” 

“No, he went to get something for us to drink too.” Harry smiled at her. “You look absolutely amazing Hermione. Your dress is stunning.” Harry took the chance to compliment her. 

“Thank you Harry. You look very handsome as well, that shirt is like nothing I have ever seen before, may I touch it?” Hermione waited to raise her hand until Harry offered her his arm. She gently touched one of the gems, then nodded to herself. “Ah, swarovski gems. Very beautiful.” 

That was the name of the glass gems that Harry had forgotten. 

“Hey Hermione,” Ron leaned forward to catch her attention. “You look awesome, are you having fun? You seem a little out of breath.” 

“Thank you, it’s all thanks to Draco and Mrs. Malfoy.” She beamed at him. “You look very good as well. I’m having great fun, but I sure needed a little bit of a breather.”

“You’ve gathered a bit of people.” Draco smiled as he spotted Harry surrounded by his friends. Ron scooted to the side to allow him to sit down next to Harry, as Draco was holding two glasses of punch in his hands. He gave one to Harry before sitting down, careful as to not mess up his beautiful trail. 

“How did you manage to dance in that?” Ron commended in a way that was just polite enough to make it seem as if he wasn’t complaining. 

“It’s enchanted, of course.” Draco sipped his own drink carefully. “Otherwise, I would no doubt have gotten at least a little inconvenience by it by now.” 

“I got your drink, Hermione.” Victor’s voice was easy to hear over the buzz of the ball room, as it was dark enough to penetrate the noises around them. 

“Thank you so much!” She breathed out with relief as she held her hand out for the one glass that Victor was presenting to her. 

“Do you plan on resting for a bit longer?” Victor looked at Hermione, waiting for a reaction. 

She nodded in an exaggerated manner to show that she was, not trying to overpower the noises around her in favor of the easier option. 

Victor nodded in return to signal that he had understood. He then looked over at Ron, who looked the least tired of the group, with the exception of Draco, who was busy with other things, namely his drink. “You want a dance?” 

“H-h-huhg?” Ron blinked, staring at the world renowned Quidditch player as he offered Ron a hand to help him out of the chair. “M-m-me?” 

“He can’t hear you very well. Nod or shake your head.” Hermione suggested, leaning forward a little to look at Ron. 

Ron stared at her, then looked up at Victor, who was still waiting. He nodded, then nodded even harder, before he reached out to accept the hand, and was pulled to his feet. Ron threw one last confused look to his group of friends before he was pulled up on the dance floor by his idol. 

Harry and Draco turned towards Hermione, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide her satisfied smirk with her drinking glass. 

“You planned that.” Draco softly accused her of what all three of them knew to be the truth. 

“You have no definite proof.” Hermione told him, simply, her eyes glinting with mischief. 

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back to let the two of his friends casually discuss what they both knew to be true. Harry let them be for a while, until he felt himself feeling eager to dance once more. 

He looked between the two of them. “Hey, do you want to try dancing, all three of us?”  

Draco and Hermione both stopped their polite teasing and looked to Harry. 

“We… Haven’t practiced that.” Hermione carefully reminded her friend. 

“Well, we can practice on the dance floor. It will be fun. Probably.” Harry placed his glass aside and stood up, reaching one hand out towards each of them. 

Draco and Hermione looked at one another, then reached out to accept Harry’s invitation, while also grabbing each other’s hands to close the circle. 

Draco shook his head to himself. “If any of you steps on my shoes, I will be ever so sad.” He teased them both with a smirk.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, now that raised the stakes significantly. Draco laughed softly as he pulled them out to the edge of the dance floor, where they carefully practiced dancing together, until Victor came to ask Hermione for another dance as Ron returned to Nott and the Beauxbatons student, leaving Harry and Draco to dance on their own again. That suited Harry fine, as he found the dancing style where he was allowed to simply hang on to Draco and let him lead to be the most fun type of dancing. 

After a long dance session, Harry found that he needed both something to eat and some fresh air as he was sweating slightly by now. Thus, he and Draco filled a plate each with some foods and snacks that wouldn’t risk staining their clothes, and headed outside. It was cold outside, but not cold enough to deter them for the moment. Still, they didn’t elect to stay outside, but moved towards the corridors where they planned on eating. It turned out that they weren’t the only ones who had that idea, and it took some time to find a bench where they could be at least remotely alone. However, when they did find it, they had ended up rather far from the Great Hall. 

They talked about something or another, but afterwards, Harry mostly remembered the enjoyable taste of the food and the pleasant silence which came with not being stuck inside a Great Hall which was filled with both people and music. Not to mention that his feet were starting to object to Draco’s unfamiliar shoes and the sock solution. 

Harry placed his plate aside and leaned against Draco with a deep sigh. He closed his eyes, seeing shapes dance around on the inside of his eyelids. He felt tired, perhaps even a little exhausted. Still, he felt happy and, now that he had cooled down a little, pleasantly warm. He felt Draco’s hand move up to his, and after some maneuvering, the two of them were holding hands again, just like they had while dancing. Although this was a bit more personal and private than it had been upon the dance floor. 

For a while, they just sat like that, holding hands in the relatively dark hallway upon the semi-cold bench. There were still people and noise around them, although not too close to bother the two of them. Harry closed his eyes once more, listening to his own heartbeat and imagined that it was Draco’s. It might be a little childish, but it made him feel happy. 

“Harry, can I ask you something?” Draco spoke up carefully, gently persuading the silence to give way to his words more than he forcefully broke it apart. 

“Mnm?” Harry blinked himself awake and sat up a little better. The actions made his toes ache slightly, reminding Harry that he missed his own shoes. 

“I wasn’t… intending on inquiring on this matter until after we’ve… well, kissed, but there is something I've continuously found taking up a constantly increasing space within my thoughts and my general mind space…” Draco launched into his usual academic disclaimers, which were rather quite the norm with Draco. 

Harry remained politely next to him, not wanting to interrupt since he thought he could see a faint redness on the top of Draco’s ears. 

“But since this might actually be the most opportune of situations, rather than asking after the kiss, I believe that I should perhaps voice my thoughts so as to have a concrete answer rather than simply my own self to reflect over them…” Draco trailed off. 

Harry continued to wait until Draco found out how he wanted to continue his speech. Or was it an essay by this point? 

“Maybe I should simply ask you?” Draco concluded as he found enough courage to actually look at Harry. 

“Me?” Harry found himself accidentally laughing, finding himself relatively unsure of what else to do. He quickly apologised for his reaction, then proceeded to tell his best friend that he would much rather Draco speak to him than suffer alone with his own thoughts. Part of Harry felt like they had already discussed this before, but he concluded that it might be time to give Draco a gentle reminder. 

Judging by his best friend’s expression, Draco had needed that reminder. “Yes, of course. I should have expected nothing else. Well… Would you like me to voice my thoughts before or after the kiss?” 

Harry pretended that his cheeks weren’t heating with almost alarming warmth as he answered. “I’m not so sure that anything would be different? After all, uh, kissing might be kind of… private, but it’s not like one kiss will change our lives? Right?” He was nervous that Draco would feel different about the kiss, but Harry decided to try and be honest nonetheless. 

To his great relief, Draco nodded. “I suppose you are right. It is not like one kiss really will change the rest of our lives… We’re fourteen after all, we will probably have some better kisses than just this one.” He paused for a second, then hastily continued. “Not that that takes away the importance of this one. I’m sure I will remember it for at least a long time.” Following his own words, Draco stuttered before quickly averting his eyes. 

Harry felt his face become even hotter, if that was even possible. “I think… I’ll probably remember it for a while too.” He squeezed Draco’s hand in return. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?” 

“Ah.. yes… What I wanted to… ah…” Draco began by stuttering, then he muttered under his breath. “Somehow, I truly imagined myself to be more articulate than this…” 

“You usually are.” Harry smiled and squeezed his hand again. “Take your time.” 

Draco’s taking of time involved two deep breaths, but then he was able to gather himself enough that he could actually voice his thoughts. Without much ceremony, and without making any disclaimers, Draco said “I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to date you. Not just tonight, not just holding your hand, or sleeping next to one another as friends, but to be… boyfriends.” 

Harry felt his heart do a loop in his chest, turning so quickly and so surprisingly that he couldn’t help but gasp for breath. In hindsight, it seemed a little needlessly dramatic, but at the moment, he desperately felt like he needed the oxygen. 

The thought of dating Draco hadn’t really occurred to Harry until earlier that year when he had been mistaken for Draco's boyfriend. In truth, ever since, Harry had avoided the thought at all costs, scared of what it would imply or the risk of it messing up their friendship. Once the thought was there now, it seemed abnormally obvious that he wanted to date Draco, to be close with him and to just be with him as more than friends. They always had fun together, they had seen bad sides of one another, they were already semi-familiar with being physically close to one another. Not to mention that they had both changed each other’s worlds for the better, or at least so Harry was convinced of. Not to mention that they had already sort of confessed to liking one another, so being boyfriends was the most natural next step. The thought of going back to pretending that he didn’t feel the things he felt for Draco felt all the more unbearable to Harry. 

He didn’t need to think twice about it. There was only one answer for Harry. 

“Yes!” 

Draco’s smile might be the widest Harry had ever seen him make. “I haven’t even asked you a question yet.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Although his expression conveyed Draco’s happiness more honestly than any words he might have spoken. 

“The answer to your unasked question is still yes!” Harry laughed in return, and moved in to hug the other around his neck. Harry held Draco tightly, clinging to him like he had never clung to anyone. If there were tears in his eyes or not, Harry couldn’t quite tell, but a gentle sob rocked his body as he breathed in Draco’s scent and likely smeared his makeup if at least slightly. 

Draco chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s body, hugging him tightly in return. For the moment, both of them forgot to be careful with their clothing, which might get stuck to one another if challenged with closeness. 

Harry nuzzled against his boyfriend’s neck, breathing in the scent which was almost as familiar as his own by now. Boyfriend. Somehow, it felt so very natural. So very right. There was nothing really new or frightening about it. He knew that he could trust Draco completely.

Draco nuzzled back in return, causing Harry to shiver slightly. He felt Draco turn his nose upwards and buff it against Harry’s neckline. “You’re starting to grow some stubble.” The blonde wizard, whose stubble would never be as visible as Harry’s, commented. 

“That will not stop my desire for cuddles.” Harry laughed as the two of them carefully separated so as to not ruin their respective clothes. 

“Well…” Draco spoke up again, reaching out to take both of Harry’s hands with a slightly playful glint in his eyes. “I think I was promised a kiss?” 

“Right!” Harry hoped that his voice wasn’t shaking. Still, he had a feeling that Draco didn’t mind so much. 

Harry leaned forward, as did Draco, and the two of them found each other’s lips in a hesitant, gentle, and experimental kiss. Their aim had been a little off, and so they hit each other a little to the left of the other’s lips. Harry made to pull back and realign, but Draco gently reached out to adjust his new boyfriend’s head in place, before they kissed again. This time, they were more aligned, and the kiss lasted for long enough to be slightly more than a peck. 

The two boyfriends had been right in that the two kisses might not be the best they would ever have in their lives, but they would both remember them as their first, and still meaningful, kisses. 

Chapter Text

“Will Draco and Professor Snape meet us there, or will they come here first?” 

Harry asked Remus as the two of them gathered by the breakfast table on the morning of the 24th of December, accompanied as always by Snuffles, who had his own chair by the table. Anyone who didn’t know about the animagus would surely have found Remus to be a very lonely person to have him eat with his dog by the table every meal. Harry had a feeling that his dad was trying his best to assure that his old friend got to keep some of his dignity in sitting by the table, but he found it hard to believe that his dogfather would actually mind eating out of a bowl on the floor. 

“Severus said that they would come by here first, as he doesn’t want to end up arriving earlier than us.” Remus absentmindedly gave Snuffles a pat on the head as the animagus pulled on his sleeve to get some more porridge in his bowl. 

The dog whimpered softly as the distracted dad went to pour some porridge into his son’s bowl instead. The set of bowls did not match. Harry’s bowl was a green one which Remus had gotten for his son as Harry was sorted into Slytherin. They both knew that Houses really didn’t matter, but Remus had thought Harry might appreciate a new bowl which reminded him of Hogwarts. Harry appreciated the porcelain object a lot, but not because it was green, but because it was a gift for him. Snuffles’ bowl was blue and was somewhat deeper than Harry’s. Remus’ own bowl was a plain white one was slightly broken on one end, and much older than the colorful ones. 

“I can hardly believe that we’ve been invited to the Weasleys like this… It is…” Remus mumbled to himself as he poured some porridge into his own bowl, his expression distant. “Molly specifically asked me to bring my partner. I’ve… I can scarcely believe that I would be invited anywhere.” 

Snuffles barked loudly, trying to encourage his old friend to have more confidence in himself. 

Remus smiled at the dog, then gently shook his head. “Very well, you are right, I suppose.” He set the porridge aside and grabbed the teapot.

“There is more honey in the cupboard, you don’t have to be sparse with that jar.” Remus spoke up again when Harry reached for the honey jar.

"Great, I was hoping that we had more than this. Either way, I think Snuffles is right in that you probably don’t have to worry about being invited somewhere. After all, the Weasleys know about your condition, so there shouldn't be anything left to fear.” Harry reached for the teapot to fill his cup. “I’m just really happy that Draco is coming as well. Ah, and Professor Snape as well, of course.” 

Remus chuckled gently. “You do not have to be as excited as I am for my partner, you do know that, right?” 

“Well, yes. Yes I do.” Harry returned his dad’s smile. He glanced over at Snuffles, who was busy eating the porridge without caring much for the two Lupins who were excited to celebrate with their respective partners. “I hope Professor Snape will like my present…” He added, thinking out loud. 

“He will love it.” Remus assured his son as he began to eat. “I’m more nervous that we will cause some damage to poor Molly and Arthur’s wallets by being so many.”

“They wouldn’t have invited all of us unless they could handle it.” Sirius spoke up as he leaned back in the chair in human form. “Besides, we are bringing some food of our own, so no harm done.” 

Almost a whole year had passed since Sirius had begun living with Remus, and being regularly fed by the responsible Professor. He had become even less thin since the Quidditch World Cup, and his slightly wavy black hair appeared to have a dull shine which it hadn’t had before. While it still looked slightly unkempt, his hair now looked like a choice, rather than the result from neglect. Harry recognised the shirt Sirius was wearing as one of Remus’ smaller shirts, and also his most colorful. It was a simple red dress shirt, one which Remus never had the heart to throw away after his friends gave it to him back when he was still in his twenties. It was still far too big for Harry, so he had never borrowed it, which was rather good, as Sirius had taken a strong liking to it due to its distant but still somewhat legitimate connection to James Potter. Harry couldn’t tell if his dogfather was wearing trousers or not. He hoped that he was.

Trousers or not, Sirius Black looked healthier than Harry had ever seen him. While Harry didn’t particularly find Sirius to be an overly important presence in his own everyday life, he was still very happy to see that his dogfather appeared less sick these days. Of course, Harry’s personal lack of relationship to his half crazed family member didn’t mean that he disliked Sirius. He mostly found it hard to exist in Sirius’ world as anything more than a clone of James, and that still made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable in his presence at times. 

“S-Sirius…! Don’t look like that!” Remus more or less gasped as he looked around the kitchen, as if to make sure that they were alone. 

“You’re being so stupid you’re not giving me another choice. Also, the blinds are down, nobody will see me. Also, hi there, young Mr. Lupin.” Sirius nodded at Harry, giving him a smile. 

Harry returned the smile, already feeling a little better in the man’s company as Sirius addressed him in the way he wanted to be addressed. “Hi Sirius. Thank you for keeping dad company.” Harry gave the grown man a compliment before he could really think the act over. It felt natural to at least acknowledge to the support dog that he was making an active difference, even if Sirius should by all means know that he did. 

“No problem. Remus, do you have any coffee? I’m rather fed up with just tea.” Sirius turned to his host, leaning forward with hopeful eyes at the thought of coffee. 

“I will serve you all the coffee you want, later, in the basement. Please go back to being Snuffles. This stress is not what I need right now…” Remus was still glancing around and the closed blinds and had even lowered his voice. “Please?” He repeated. 

Sirius threw one last glance at Harry before he turned back into Snuffles without objection. Then he jumped off his chair and came to lay his big head in Remus’ lap so that he could pet him, thus trying to atone for the stress he had given his host. Remus sighed and began absentmindedly scratching behind the big animal’s ear. 

Harry drank some of his tea before speaking up again. “I think my dogfather is right though. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are adults, and they can choose how to spend their money. You taught me that, dad. It’s not any less true because it's the Weasleys instead of the Malfoys.” 

Remus looked between his son and the dog in his lap. He then smiled at Harry. “If the two of you agree on something, surely it must be right.” 

Snuffles snuffled in Remus’ lap, then proceeded to lick his hand. 

“Not after you’ve just eaten…” Remus sighed, knowing well that his hand would now smell of porridge and dog breath until he washed it off. 

Harry couldn’t help but snort softly, trying not to laugh. 

Snuffles happily wagged his tail, looking up at Remus with the most innocent of eyes. Then licked his hand again to segment that he knew what he was doing. 

Harry and Remus were just finishing up the dishes when Snuffles sat up from behind them and whined in the direction of the basement door. Shortly thereafter, Harry heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. 

Harry glanced at his dad, who smiled and waved him off. “I’ll take care of the rest, you go meet them.” 

He hurried to the basement door, while Snuffles slowly slid under the table to hide.

He reached the door just in time to see Draco open it and step out into the hallway. Draco was dressed in his winter clothes, which Harry concluded meant that he was evidently prepared to spend some time outdoors. Possibly in a snowball fight. Behind him in the stairs stood Professor Snape, who was dressed in the same manner as always, although possibly with more layers. 

Draco spotted Harry and promptly held out his arms for his boyfriend, allowing Harry to straight up jump into them. Harry did just that and bounced in to hug Draco around the neck. He was so happy to see Draco again that he couldn’t help that a giggle escaped from his lips. 

Harry and Draco had never intended to hide the fact that they were now dating to anyone, least of all from their friends, but the day after the Yule Ball had been a very slow one for most people, during which most people packed for the journey home, or spent in their beds. They didn’t have the time to tell Neville, Hermione, Ron and Nott about it until the time when they were actually sitting on the Hogwarts Express on their way back home. 

Their group of friends were somewhat surprised at first, but quickly began congratulating them for finding each other. Of course, nobody had anything against the two of them dating, and after the initial surprise of the sudden change between two people who were already very close to one another, the conversation was only positive. Nonetheless, there wasn’t a lot for their friends to comment on, as the relationship between Harry and Draco was theirs, and nobody had any presumptions about it being any of their business to say much about it other than to congratulate them. Further, nobody made any tasteless remarks that they had waited a long time to get together. Harry had been somewhat worried that Ron or Nott might accidentally say something like that, but neither boy made any such comments. 

Next, he had been nervous to tell his dad about the evolution of his relationship with Draco, not because he was too worried about his dad disapproving of it, but because there was a possibility that Remus would find fourteen to be too young an age for his son to date. Not to mention that Sirius would likely hear about the relationship as well, and he was likely to disapprove of Harry’s romantic involvement with a Pureblood mage, especially when that mage had blood connections to the Black family. However, Harry hadn’t allowed himself to keep the secret, but was instead honest with his dad and dogfather that he now had a boyfriend in Draco. 

To Harry’s immense relief, Remus had been nothing but happy for him. He made no demands, nor set rules for what Harry could and could not do with his relationship. Instead, he sat Harry down to have him tell the entire story from start to finish while they drank hot cocoa together. Snuffles hadn’t voiced anything, neither had he transformed into Sirius to speak up about some kind of displeasure, and instead simply happily waved his tail. His reaction truly was nothing of what Harry had feared.

Of course, Harry didn’t tell the two adults too much about the kissing, other than mentioning it. He knew well that he owned his body, and him kissing Draco truly didn’t mean anything to anyone who wasn’t them. 

Thus, Harry found himself completely comfortable in hugging Draco in front of everyone, shamelessly greeting him just like he would have before they began dating. Harry found the idea to suddenly force himself to show restraint because of ideas of things being different now that they were dating to be simply wrong. He would have hugged Draco like this either way.

“I missed you too.” Draco laughed and hugged Harry back with one arm, as he was carrying two wrapped up packages in his other hand. Both of which he held onto by the ribbons which had been elegantly wrapped around the presents. 

Harry nuzzled his nose against his cheek, then stepped back so that Professor Snape could get up from the basement. “Good morning, sir.” Harry smiled at the man, who also appeared to be carrying something underneath his robes. 

“Good morning, Lupin.” The man stepped past them and closed the door behind himself. The door opened inwards, a small but perhaps needed defense against the werewolf’s ability to break out of the basement. “Is your father in the vicinity?” The man asked as he handed Harry three packages from inside his robes, one of which was labelled H. Lupin, the other Remus, and the third Snuffles, in elegant handwriting.  

“He is finishing up in the kitchen.” Harry accepted the packages. He realised through context that the Professor was asking him to place the packages underneath their holiday tree, and so he asked Draco to come with him by nodding towards the living room while Professor Snape walked towards the kitchen. 

Harry heard a happy voice welcome the man into the kitchen with the word “Severus” being spoken in a breathless sigh of happiness. Harry couldn’t help but think that love must come in many different forms, as the love the two adults felt for one another was so very different from and yet definitely alike the one between him and Draco. Still, Harry would not think to describe any of their emotions as anything other than ‘love.’ 

“Are those presents?” Harry asked his boyfriend as the two of them walked up to the sparsely decorated winter tree, which really was nothing more than a little plant in a pot with some decorations all around it in the dirt. Somehow, the plant refused to die, no matter how many times the Lupins forgot about it. The floor was cold under Harry’s feet, as they hadn’t bothered to light the fireplace as they weren’t planning on remaining in the house for long that day. “I thought you promised me that you wouldn’t…”

“This is a present to Professor Lupin from my mother.” Draco laughed as he placed the big package down. He almost tipped the plant and the pot over but he managed to save them with his well trained Seeker reflexes. “It’s just a collection of her favorite blends of tea that she wanted to share with him. The other one is for Hermione, also from mother. I’m supposed to bring that one with me to the Weasleys.” Draco glanced at the presents. “Is Professor Snape celebrating with you this year?” 

Harry glanced at the book which he had personally wrapped for the Potions Master, and the more-neatly-but-not-that-well-wrapped present which his dad was giving to the man. “Yeah. I think dad will want some peace and quiet tomorrow. It was a full moon about a week ago. If nothing else, I look forward to just read some fiction. Dad has a few new books since I was home last, there is this one called The Count of Monte Cristo that caught my eye. It’s huge. Apparently it’s one of Si-nuffles favorite stories.”  

Draco straightened up after having made certain that the pot wasn’t about to fall over. “I believe my mother has read that one. Is it that one about the whale?”

“No,” Harry smiled as he jumped over to the much less cold carpet. Draco had indoor shoes on, so he was fine despite the best efforts of the cold floor. “It’s apparently about revenge.” 

Draco thought for a second, then nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. “Suddenly, I understand why that book would be one my distant cousin would enjoy.” He stepped over to Harry, avoiding the old and ragged carpet out of respect. “Should we go to your room? You are still wearing your pajamas, and you look cold.” 

“The kitchen is a lot warmer.” Harry agreed as a shudder passed through him. Some warmer clothes was definitely a most agreeable idea to him. 

“Am I allowed to help you dress up for the day?” Draco gently teased Harry as they walked towards his room. 

Harry grinned back at him. “With most ardent delight, I accept thine offer.”

His boyfriend snorted but was nonetheless amused, judging by his smile. “I shall make certain that your royal majesty is beyond compare during the festivities of the day.” 

Harry laughed as he opened the door to his room, allowing Draco inside with a bow. “I want to be able to move too, please.” He only half joked. 

“Ah, tragic.” Draco strode inside and began to take his jacket off, before heading straight for Harry’s closet. 

Harry sat down on his bed and waited for his boyfriend to pick whatever he thought would be suiting. Of course, Harry wasn’t about to simply accept whatever Draco threw at him if he wouldn't want to wear it, but he was thankful for the other’s help in what would make him appear dressed for the occasion. Not that he needed to be, but he knew that it made Draco happy to play around with fashion. 

“Welcome, I am so happy that you could all make it. Welcome, welcome, do come inside. Mind that step. That’s a lad. Professors, glad you could join us!” 

Molly Weasley had seen them apparate from her kitchen window and had hurried out on the porch to meet them. A pleasant and homely smell of different cooking rose from her curly red hair and her soft hands. 

“Lunch isn’t ready yet, but if you are hungry, there are some cookies on the living room table. The kids are in Ron’s room. Go say hi.” Mrs. Weasley continued to speak in a quick but happy and friendly manner as she more or less pushed Draco and Harry inside to get them out of the cold. 

She then turned to the two professors that she had simply acknowledged over the heads of the two young mages. If she was nervous to have two somewhat unfamiliar adult men in her home, she showed nothing of it, instead welcoming them as her sons. Molly Weasley had a lot of sons, treating a few more wizards like her extended children was not especially hard for her. Remus in particular got a hug, which he had not been prepared for, but which nonetheless made his eyes water slightly. After all, his own family had rejected him for his condition, which meant that a motherly hug was something he had almost forgotten the feeling of. Professor Snape managed to avoid any welcoming hugs by placing himself out of reach of the embrace behind his partner. 

Harry and Draco were met by the warmth of the Weasley household. The food that was being cooked in the kitchen sent pleasant steam and scents around the house, rising upwards in the dwindling tower which made out the Burrow. It appeared that some brave soul had set about trying to clean in the house, but this had only resulted in items being stacked in corners, walls and upon flat surfaces, threatening silently to fall and undo whatever territory had been gained. Somewhere on the walls, some pictures moved back and forth to try and see anything from behind the stacks of objects which blocked them from view while subsequently blocking their view. Harry quickly looked to the side to avoid catching one of the pictures’ eyes and thus become demanded to save them. 

Together, the two of them headed upstairs, towards the pseudo familiar space which was Ron’s room. The door flew open as they approached, upon which they were met by Ron’s triumphant grin. “Gotcha! Oh, uh… Harry, Malfoy! I thought you were Fred and George, trying to prank us…” 

“Oh, are the boyfriends here?” Nott peeked out through the door. He was down on his knees, holding some manner of contraptions in his hands, which he had seemingly planned on releasing at the twins. 

Harry and Draco exchanged glances, both wondering if they had somehow been caught in a prank war which they wanted no part in. 

“Is it Harry and Draco?” Hermione’s voice reached them from inside Ron’s room, soon followed by herself. Her face lit up as she saw them. “Welcome! Now that Harry and Draco are here, let us move to the living room, it is getting very crowded in here.” 

She gently pushed past the two people who were still staring at the two boyfriends like they might be Left and Right Weasley in disguise. Neville followed her, taking care not to touch any of the two friends in the doorway, before joining Hermione, Harry and Draco on the landing. 

“Hello. Merry Hex-mas,” Neville said and smiled at them. He was dressed in a likely home made shirt which had a big P embroidered onto it. It seemed that he had been lent a shirt from a Weasley child as the Burrow did not have the most sufficient heating system. As Neville had lived in a house where heating was never usually a problem, there was little wonder that he was somewhat cold. 

Hermione was dressed in some of the clothes that she had gotten from Narcissa Malfoy. She wore a brown pleated skirt in a warm but not heavy fabric, alongside her favorite, somewhat colorful color block cardigan and a red dress shirt. She had tried to mimic the way Draco had put her hair up to get it away from her face, but the results were somewhat unlike Draco’s. 

“Hex-mas?” Harry repeated, leaning his head slightly to the side as he looked between Hermione and Neville, who seemed to be sharing a joke. 

“The Muggles call this time of year Christmas,” Hermione reminded the group of mages. “It’s often shortened into Xmas, with an X instead of Christ. Nott misheard me and thought I said Hex-mas. I think it’s a much more inclusive name for the Holiday.” 

“I’m being bullied.” Nott whispered to Ron as he stood up and stuffed his contraption back into one of his pockets. Harry hoped it would stay in there. 

Ron chuckled. “You can get back at her by secretly adding a cookie to her plate later.” 

“How is that getting back at her?” Nott didn’t sound impressed. 

“Because that would show that you are the better mage through bringing her gifts instead of venom.” Ron grinned widely, placing his hands on his hips, the very image of pride.  

“Is that Draco and Harry?” A hopeful voice reached them from across the other landing as Ginny's face peeked out from behind her bedroom door. Harry could see her face lit up as she saw them. “Hello!” She called happily. 

“Hello.” Harry waved back. 

“Good day.” Draco smiled at her. 

“Why are you all out on the landing?” Ginny peered over at them like a questioning bird. 

“We were heading downstairs to the living room. Six people is a little too much for Ron’s little room. Oh, no offense, of course.” Hermione added in Ron’s direction. 

Ron shook his head to show that he wasn’t upset in the least. “The air in there gets stale with just me. All of us will make it go away in no time.” 

Thus, the group moved downstairs, joined by Ginny who followed them while briefly complaining that she wasn’t allowed any friends over, but Ron got to have everyone he’d ever been friends with come over. Ron did what many older brothers do, and pretended that he didn’t hear his sister’s absolutely valid criticism towards their mother’s selective allowances of visitors. 

In the living room, they found Remus and Professor Snape together with Arthur Weasley in what seemed to be a somewhat awkward silence. Both Mr. Weasley and Remus looked towards the group of teenagers as they came inside, both looking slightly hopeful that the inclusion of more people might make their stale conversation somewhat less distinguishably strained. Snuffles had found his way to the fireplace, after stealing one of Mr. Weasley’s slippers, judging by the fact that the man only wore one discolored slipper while an identical slipper rested under Snuffle’s chin. 

Harry wondered if his dogfather really found enjoyment in being a stubborn dog more than he did being an intelligent person who might put forth a credible argument. Then again, Harry wondered how anyone could reason to themselves that they needed Arthur Weasley’s right slipper as their pillow.  

“Ah, Ron, Ginny… The rest.” Mr. Weasley greeted them. “Now, uh… do you know any games that a large group can play? Surely, Ms. Granger might have some Muggle games she can suggest?” Mr. Weasley sounded hopeful as he looked to the teenager. 

“Well… I did bring Monopoly.” Hermione began, causing Nott to immediately perk up. “But if you have a deck of cards or two, I know a couple of games.” 

“I have cards!” The man accidentally raised his voice out of eagerness as he half leaped from his comfortable but also frail looking arm chair. “Allow me to go get them!” He pushed past Neville and was off, running out the door in his search for those cards. It might also be that he had finally found a decent excuse to run away, but it was hard to tell with the eccentric Muggle interested man. 

The people in the room looked after the running man in silence. He had left with only one slipper on, straight into the snow. 

The silence was broken by Draco, who turned to Hermione; “Merry Hex-mas.” He handed her the package, which he had simply been holding until then. “It is from my mother to you, she allowed my name to be on the package as well, but it is mainly from her.” 

Hermione looked shocked as she was handed a package which was distinctly book shaped. “Oh my! I… f-from your mother? Is that really alright?” Hermione hesitated to accept the package. “She didn’t mention a present in her letters…” 

“Well, Hermione… I don’t think Draco has conducted an in-depth scheme to give you a present but hiding it through making it appear as if said present is from his mother.” Neville politely told his friend, a soft grin playing on his lips. 

Hermione slowly reached out for the package then and hugged it to her chest, pressing it against the cardigan which Mrs. Malfoy had also gotten for her. “Thank you.” She whispered, blinking hard to try and keep the tears at bay. 

The rest of the group had slowly moved into the living room as people were talking. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so Nott and Ron joined Snuffles by the fire. Nott happily began to pet the dog, but Ron, knowing that said dog was the elusive prisoner of Azkaban, did not do more than give him a singular pet as a greeting. Nott looked over at the two Professors, before he asked with more courage than an average Gryffindor student “what are you doing here, Professor Snape?” while scratching Snuffles behind his ears. 

About half of the people in the room appeared to collectively be holding their breaths before Remus spoke up. “Severus is invited as my partner.” 

“Oh,” Nott said, seemingly not bothered or caring at all. He then looked at the plate on the table. “Can I feed Snuffles a cookie, Professor Lupin?”

“I don’t know if that is-” Remus began but Professor Snape gently interrupted him. In the sense that gentle meant not sternly. 

“He may have one. That big blue one there would probably be sufficient.” The Potions Master suggested. 

“This one? Alright, open up, Snuffles.” Nott grabbed the cookie and fed the whole thing to the dog who was suddenly starving and could only be saved by means of a big, blue cookie, the ways dogs tended to be when they saw something which looked tasty. 

Remus looked over at his partner, who sat calmly next to him on the sofa, studying the dog as the rest of the teenagers spread out in the living room. 

Suddenly, Snuffles trembled. The dog looked confused for a second, then trembled again, before coughing loudly. Everyone in the room looked worriedly towards the animal, with the exception of the Potions Master. Snuffles whimpered, and then he began to change color. His fur paled, then turned slightly more reddish, before shifting to green and settling on a soft, dusty pink. Nott blinked as the big dog got up and turned around to look at himself in all his pink glory. 

“Ah, rats,” came a weak mumble from the door to the living room. 

“Double rats. The dog ate it.” answered an almost identical voice. 

In the doorway stood Left and Right Weasley, studying the latest result which their experimental magic had yielded, namely a pink dog. 

“Would have been more fun with someone else.” Left stated. 

“Much indeed.” Right agreed. 

Ron and Ginny both threw a pillow each at their brothers. 

“Begone, spawn of jesters!” called Ginny. 

“Strategic retreat!” called the twins like one, and raced up the stairs. 

In the commotion, Harry and Remus were the only ones to notice that Snuffles stared accusingly at Professor Snape, who had no doubt noticed that something was wrong about the cookie and assured that it went to his old bully. While Snuffles stared accusingly at him, the Potions Master picked up a small cookie and ate it, keeping eye contact with the dog as he chewed. Nothing happened to him. Severus Snape knew enough about potions, herbs and magically altering ingredients to know that there had only been one hexed cookie in the batch. It also helped that he had seen the twins add it while Remus spoke to Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. 

The door flew open, sending some snow in together with Mr. Weasley as he returned holding a collection of cards up high. He had seemingly not noticed that one of his socks was completely soaked. “I found them!” He yelled and produced the results to Hermione with a prideful look on his face. 

Ron and Ginny hid their shame over their father behind a hand each. 

While Hermione politely studied the decks, Mr. Weasley looked down at Snuffles. “Huh… I don’t recall that dog being pink…”

“Your sons.” Professor Snape informed him. 

“Ah,” answered Mr. Weasley. He understood.

Hermione carefully looked up at Mr. Weasley’s face with an apologetic expression. “These two are card game decks. This deck is baseball cards, you don't generally use them to play games.” 

“Oh,” Mr. Weasley sounded disappointed, but quickly returned to smiling. “But you still know some games, right?”

Hermione nodded. She knew some games which they could play with only two regular decks. 

While the group was taught some Muggle card games by Hermione, Snuffles enacted a daring revenge plot upon Professor Snape. This plot revolved around making sure that the pink got onto the man who had given Snuffles the enchanted cookie. Thus, the daring plot involved Snuffles climbing on top of both Remus and Professor Snape, resting most of his weight on the latter, and assuring through physical contact that the pink fur made it onto the darkly dressed man’s clothing. This did not only mean that Snape would be pink too, but have to deal with annoying dog hair which was particularly offensive to the rest of his outfit. Snuffles may not be the Count of Monte Cristo, but he had a course of action for his revenge and he was about to undertake it. 

Everything went comparatively well at first. He ran around the table and jumped onto Snape’s lap, upon which he stretched out so that his front body rested on Remus while his old enemy had to deal with most of the weight of his body. 

“Snuffles…” Remus began to reprimand him, glancing between the dog and his partner. 

Yet said partner reached up and began stroking over the pink fur, quite casually petting the dog like one would usually undertake dealing with a large animal who decided to take up residence in one’s lap. 

Thus, the not Count of Monte Cristo’s revenge plot started falling together, as his intended victim wasn’t bothered by the first stage of his plan. Nonetheless, this would mean that the man would be more effectively covered in hair. Snuffles rested his head on the armrest of the sofa and let himself be petted by both Professors. His time would come. Probably.

It didn’t take that much longer for the food to be finished. Mrs. Weasley came out of her kitchen to call her family and guests, and found her husband deeply engaged in a game of Go Fish. He was fighting against Hermione, Ginny and Nott for victory, as the four of them quickly got competitive. Meanwhile, Harry, Draco, Neville and Ron were calmly playing Monopoly, which Neville had gotten from Hermione’s bag with her permission. When the four of them were playing alone, without the competitive people, Neville was doing rather well, and was no longer close to bankrupt by the end of every turn. Added to this scene, Mrs. Weasley also found that the dog had been turned pink, and was lying on top of the two Professors with a smug expression on his face. Somehow, in how curious the entire scene was, it wasn’t the strangest which Mrs. Weasley had seen. 

“Everyone, food is ready. Leave those games now. Oh, I forgot a bowl for the dog…” She added, having neglected to think of the canine for the moment. “Go call Fred and George as well, I have to find something that works…” She disappeared back into the kitchen. 

The family and guests dropped what they were doing and headed for the kitchen one by one, with Ron in the lead. Snuffles was gently pushed off the two men, and turned triumphantly to admire his pink tinted revenge. It had indeed been a job well done. However, as he studied the pink fur upon both Professors, Snape snapped his fingers, and the pink fur on both of the men gathered itself up before it threw itself into the fireplace to be burnt away. Thus, faded into ashes was the revenge plot, the Count of Monte Cristo Snuffles was not.  He had to accept defeat, which he did by hatching a plan to bother Snape with begging during the lunch. 

Harry felt amazed as he sat down by the long table and studied all the food that Mrs. Weasley had somehow made on her own. He knew that both Neville’s and Nott’s grandparents had contributed with money for their children, as Neville had mentioned a little earlier that day. The Lupin household had contributed with some food, which had in part been paid for by Professor Snape, but the vast majority of all the food seemed to be made by one woman; she had done an absolutely tremendous job at that. 

Harry looked the food over, simply taking it all in. There was an assortment of pies, all of which smelled absolutely lovely, many roasted vegetables, a winter salad in a huge bowl in the middle of the table. Mrs. Weasley had gotten her hands on a whole pig, and had made certain to let nothing go to waste of it: there were smoked ribs, cooked feet, two roasted ears for Snuffles, as well as a huge assortment of bacon. Harry didn’t doubt that there was at least some pork to be found within the pies, and he noticed what appeared to be home made sausages hiding behind the huge salad bowl. Then there was some porridge over by the stove, which Mrs. Weasley had prepared in case someone didn’t want to eat meat. Of course, she had also baked five loafs of bread, just to make certain that everyone got some bread if they wanted. 

An assortment of scents drifted from the table, colliding in Harry’s nose to provide the most lovely desire to eat the food. To sit still and wait for everyone to gather was the hardest part, but once everyone had arrived, and Left and Right Weasley had been positioned as far away from any food but their plates as possible, the Holiday feast began. Harry was pleased to discover that everything appeared to be tasting just as good as it smelled. The sound of small talk began to rise as plates were filled and utensils created noises against plates and food. Glasses were being filled with various drinks, as the Weasleys and their guests celebrated the winter Holidays together. 

Snuffles second attempt at revenge was quickly thwarted as he discovered that he rather liked pig ears and feet, and then was continuously foiled by the fact that a lot of people around the table were more than happy to sneak food to him, among those was Molly Weasley. This meant that his plans to annoy Snape had to be postponed in favor of getting some more sausages and maybe a bite of pie. Of course, Snuffles didn’t approach the twins, as he had realised that any food from them wasn’t likely to be normal food. 

During the meal, most people engaged in discussions and talked to those sitting nearby, conversations layered on one another, some buzzed around, while some stuck out. However, they weren’t too loud for Harry to keep up with, neither did they overwhelm him. Perhaps it helped that he was sitting next to Draco on one side and his dad on the other, allowing him to shield himself from the conversations if they got too loud. 

Next to Harry, Draco and Neville were casually discussing the Yule Ball, while Harry allowed himself a break from participating in any conversation. 

“I just cannot understand it…” Draco sighed, shaking his head. “You had Blaise Zabini on your arm, and your current conclusion is that you prefer women? After dating Blaise for a night, you decided that you like women?” Draco sounded slightly accusing, but not aggressively so. 

“Well, Draco,” Neville smiled at him like one smiled at a child who was being unreasonable. “You clearly prefer men. Blaise helped me realise that I prefer women. It’s not that hard.” He chuckled, clearly not offended in any way. 

“Well, I would understand your reasoning, had it been anyone but Blaise Zabini.” Draco shook his head again. 

“Well, you wouldn’t choose Blaise over Harry just because you think Blaise is attractive.” Neville was still smiling at Draco in a slightly condescending manner, as he knew he was right and that his friend was just in disbelief that Neville didn’t quite share his attractions. 

“Of course not.” Draco answered so fast that no feelings of doubt managed to take hold of Harry’s heart, or worry to seep into his mind. Added to his words, Draco automatically gripped Harry’s hand. “I just… it’s… but of course, I do understand. To some extent.” 

On the other end of the table, both Nott and Hermione were suddenly very busy with their food. Hermione ate a sausage sideways, while Nott absentmindedly tried to gnaw through the bone of a rib. Harry made the choice of stepping in and redirecting Draco's and Neville’s conversation towards something else. It proved rather easy, and the three of them delved into the topic of what Left and Right Weasley had used to turn the Lupin family dog pink. It proved to be a very fun topic for Neville with his interest in Herbology, as the twins had likely used various herbs from the Weasley winter garden to cause the effect. Of course, it could have been a spell, but it was somewhat more likely to be by the means of potion brewing with the help of herbs, since the effect hadn’t exactly been instantaneous. 

When the Weasleys and their guests finally finished their meal, they all needed a bit of a break before they could begin to think about dessert. Even though Harry was still rather excited to try his dad’s chocolate cake. He might be feeling very full, but the thought of his favorite cake made him feel like he might be able to make some space for dessert after all. Still, not before he had some rest. 

The game of Monopoly and Go fish quickly resumed, with Ginny declaring that she was giving up and she surrendered her cards to Hermione so that her father wouldn’t win the game. This was met with objection from the man, but support from Nott, who by now realised that he wasn’t about to make a comeback. On Nott’s lap snoozed Snuffles, who had been persuaded to lay on Nott’s leg by another cookie. It made Nott happy, as he had been scared that the dog would associate him with the displeasure of being turned pink. Snuffles had probably realised, which was likely why he forced himself to eat another cookie, even though the dog had snacked a lot that day. 

Ginny looked over at the game of Monopoly, shuddered at the thought of doing math, then turned around to find something else to engage with. Her mother was speaking to the two Professors, eagerly trading gardening methods with Remus. Next to the best Professor Ginny had ever had sat the Potions Professor, the man who had flawlessly diverted at least two more attacks from Fred and George during their meal, seemingly without batting an eye. Before that day, Ginny, and about 99% of all the students in school, thought that Snape was some manner of far and distant rock of a person. In fact, it was hard for her to think of the man as a person at all, as he just appeared so very much like a figure. Even now, that she was sitting in the same room as him, watching his leg rest against that of his partner’s, it was hard to think of him as real. As alive. 

Ginny felt like this made her a rather bad person. Not that she specifically cared about being good or anything like that, but she at the very least wanted to be a person who sought to understand others. Being good or bad didn’t so much matter to the girl as she cared about being respectful. And thinking of Snape as less than a person was definitely not respecting him. When she thought about it, she had forgiven her own brother for going crazy and trying to kill a bunch of people, even if he was possessed which made the whole thing a little easier to forgive. Further, she had also accepted a werewolf teacher as a man with a condition, who didn’t deserve hatred or bigotry. Thus, when it all came down to it, she could probably forgive the Potions Professor for giving her a low grade that one time when she was twelve. 

“Hello!” Ginny said a little too loudly, addressing Professor Snape who by no means appeared surprised to have her talk to him. “Is this seat free?” She pointed to the space next to the Potions Master. 

“Indeed.” The man didn’t move at all, but silently expected her to make a choice on her own. 

Ginny had already made that choice. She sat down next to the man and asked him what his favorite Quidditch team was. When he couldn’t answer in any other sense than stating that he wasn't too invested in Quidditch teams, she wasn’t deterred, and continued to speak about Quidditch. As Professor Snape had at least been a Quidditch referee, as well as the Slytherin team overseer, he had to legally know enough about Quidditch to know when someone was breaking the rules, or at least so Ginny reasoned. This math was simple: knowing the rules equalled knowledgeable enough to complain to. Thus, she complained to the man about how it was absolute madness that Hogwarts was still forcing their Quidditch teams to play by the old Quidditch rules. 

“Nobody,” Ginny enforced, “who wants to play Quidditch seriously should have to be forced through the lame and nonsensical rules of the past. It is time Hogwarts stops playing around and makes sure to prepare us future Quidditch players for the future!”

To her surprise, agreeing noises reached her from the Monopoly part of the table, perpetuated primarily by Draco. Gosh he was handsome, Harry Lupin was a lucky guy. As was Draco for having Harry. Only Neville was left of her three original crushes who wasn’t currently involved with someone. Still, just because Harry and Draco were solo dating right now didn’t mean that they would never be open for one more in their relationship, and then… She was overstepping quite some boundaries, as she was thinking of a newly formed couple as some sort of future opportunity for herself, instead of the fact that these were two people who had found each other. Ginny reeled herself and her fantasies back. After all, she was talking to Professor Snape right now, and the man may or may not be a mind reader, according to some rumors. 

“As you can see, my fellow athletes agree.” Ginny concluded, feeling like she had just finished an essay and was about to be graded on it. 

Professor Snape slowly nodded, much to Ginny’s surprise. “You are entirely correct. We have heard those complaints before, but the Hogwarts Board of Governors have been doubtful about the implementation of the current rules, as it would include purchasing a collection of Golden Snitches.” 

Ginny looked disappointed. Like most things, it all came back to money. 

“However, now that the Board has regained a younger member, and a more modern thinker, perhaps it is time for me to ask the Headmaster to revisit the issue. This might be a very good time, considering that all Quidditch games are cancelled until the start of the next school year in Autumn.” Professor Snape concluded. 

Ginny perked up right away, grinning at the other man. Perhaps the man wasn’t unapproachable after all. She settled down into a discussion about Quidditch, which mostly turned into her speaking and the teacher listening, but neither of them quite minded that. 

Hermione won the game of Go fish, causing both of her opponents to groan and throw their cards down. About the same time, Harry and Ron went bankrupt in quick succession, leaving Draco and Neville to compete for a while, before the stalemate got boring and they settled on a tie. 

Molly Weasley looked at the clock, before studying the group of teenagers who were all settled under her roof. “You should all get dressed and go out to have fun in the snow. You’re all young, you should allow yourself to have fun. Bring Fred and George too, I see them lurking there in the door.” 

The group of students exchanged looks. They had all attended Moody’s lessons long enough to know each other’s weaknesses and strengths, but they had never seen what the twins were capable of. From the doorway, said twins exchanged looks which said that they were not the least bit worried about facing down the younger students. Harry could practically feel the tension rising. He looked to Hermione, who was looking at him in return. Neither of them were confident that they could really be an asset to a team in this context. 

“Why don’t you divide yourself into two groups, and we will have a three team territory battle?” Left Weasley said as a smug grin formed on his lips. 

“Our group will just be us, so you may try your best.” Right Weasley put his hands on his hips, looking equally smug. 

“You are on!” Ron stood up, balling his fists. “You aren’t the only ones trained by Moody. We’ll get you in turn.” 

“Hurry up and settle on those teams…” Right Weasley began speaking.

“We’re going out to build our castle.” Left Weasley continued. 

“Don’t take too much time.” They finished as one and disappeared out of view and off towards the door. 

“Alright! Here is what we do.” Ron turned to his friend group, pulling them all in close so that they were huddled together. 

Neither Harry nor Hermione looked forward to what was to follow, seeing as they both expected to be the least desired member for any of the teams to have. 

“We’ll pretend to divide ourselves up into groups, but really, it will be us against them.” Ron grinned at them all. “They won’t be playing by the rules, so neither shall we.”

Draco smiled at the other teenager. “So we will have two strongholds against their singular castle?” 

“Yes!” Ron grinned. 

“Then the Lupling and Granger can focus on making snowballs and stay out of the range of fire. Unless you want to do something else, of course.” Nott suggested. 

“Great idea!” Hermione looked relieved to not be asked to perform physical activity which involved possibilities of snowballs flying at or into her face.

“I’d like that.” Harry smiled. 

Snuffles pushed his way into the ring and barked, happily wagging his tail as he looked up at his fellow snow warriors. 

“Then we shouldn’t wait for too long to start building our strongholds, or they might overtake us in terms of stronger defenses.” Neville suggested. 

Everyone agreed with him, and hurried to the entrance hall so that they could get dressed and enter the snowy landscape outside. They all heard when Mrs. Weasley told them to not play too close to her gardening fields, which they all agreed on making sure to avoid destroying in any manner. 

Chapter Text

Well outside, the group split into two and began working on their strongholds. Left and Right Weasley were building theirs close to what appeared to be a small construction area, as it was marked off with some highly visible yellow cloth and covered in a tarp, its green color shone through the white snow making it rather visible. The twins were already making good progress. 

Draco went with Ginny, Hermione and Neville to the left, where they began to build their fort, while Harry accompanied Ron and Nott. The arrangement gave Harry an opportunity to ask about the green tarp. 

“Oh that?” Ron nodded as he scooped more snow onto their pile. “Fred and George are getting really into the idea of starting a business of their own. They even started experimenting in their room, and mom put her foot down pretty hard. Dad started to build a space for them to experiment in without bothering the rest of the house over there, but he needed to get a builder’s permit for a bigger little house, as Fred and George expressed that they wanted to be able to live there, not just hang out. So dad is pretty much building them their own house. Of course, the winter stopped him pretty badly, but he has promised that he will continue with the project in spring. I’m not too… Confident that dad is a good builder, but then again, he built most of the top of the Burrow.” 

“So they are starting a business?” Nott asked as he helped to gather the snow onto the pile. “What kind?” 

“It’s some manner of joke themed business. Apparently, they had some really important prototype with them during the Quidditch World Cup, and George got his hands badly burned when he went back into the burning tent to save it.” Ron began to pat the snow with his hands to make it harder. “Didn’t I already tell you about this?” He frowned at Nott. 

“No, you didn’t. But if they are making things…” Nott looked towards the twin Weasley’s castle with slight desire in his eyes. “Maybe I could help out somehow?” 

Ron stopped what he was doing, then looked his friend up and down before smiling at him. “You know what? You might just be what they need to get some technical stuff working.” 

“Really?” Nott’s face lit up with excitement. “You think you could introduce us better tomorrow then? I tried talking to them at the Hogwarts Express on our way to school but they were uh... kind of difficult to approach and talk to. I might need your help to get anywhere since they seemed kind of dismissive and defensive, or something like that. If you could help present me as capable as well, that would be nice.” 

Snuffles barked as he came running, drowning out whatever it was that Ron answered. Despite Harry not hearing the answer, he was sure that it had been positive. The dog seemed to be telling the two strongholds that Weasley Castle was about ready for its first assault. 

The dog’s barking did indeed mark the beginning of the battle of the Burrow, soon enough, snowballs were flying everywhere. Harry pulled Snuffles close to use as both heater and shield, forgetting in his desire to stay away from the attacks that he was hiding under his dogfather. Of course, the brave pink dog didn’t mind taking a few snowballs for Harry. 

The fight quickly turned against the two Weasley twins, leaving them under attack from two directions. It didn’t take very long for them to realise that they had walked into a trap, but by then, it was all they could do to defend themselves. Hermione was valiantly making more snowballs for her group, but Harry was a bit more concerned about hiding. The twins noticed this weakness and tried to target Fort Wea-Nott-Lup, but they hadn’t counted on a dog who was getting way too into the game. As Fort Wea-Nott-Lup began to appear weak, the dog howled and burst from behind the wall, dashing towards Castle Weasley. As neither twin wanted to attack the dog with snowballs, there was really nothing they could do but duck as the pink canine smashed through their castle wall. 

“No fair!” One twin called. 

“Foul!” Yelled the other. 

“Victory!” Screamed Ron. 

“The jesters have fallen!” Shouted Ginny. 

All the fourth year students and Ginny began cheering for their own victory as they gathered on neutral grounds between Fort Wea-Nott-Lup and Fort Mal-Gra-Wea-Lon, where Draco and Ron shook hands to segment the peace between them. 

“Excellent working with you Mr. Weasley.” Draco said, only half joking. 

“Likewise, Mr. Malfoy.” Ron laughed as he squeezed the other teenager’s hand. 

Ginny didn’t look very impressed. “Are you still referring to one another by surnames? Isn’t that a little silly?” 

Draco and Ron looked at her, then exchanged glances with one another. Silence hung between them for a few seconds, before Harry gently nudged his boyfriend to make him speak up. 

“I would not mind you using my first name.” With the help of Harry's nudging Draco hesitantly made his feelings known. 

Ron looked relieved. “Yes. I mean, sure. You can call me Ron too.” 

“I will then.” Draco concluded, just a little stiffly. Not because he was opposed to the idea, but because he was somewhat nervous around Ron in general, even as they had efficiently ended the previous generation's family feud through their friendship. 

“In that case, you can all call me Teddy.” Nott spoke up. “Theodore is kind of long, I’m not a fan of either Ted or Theo. Just Teddy.” He enforced once more, appearing slightly nervous as he spoke up. 

“Then I’d prefer Hermione to Granger. No shortenings of my name, please.” Hermione looked happy as she asked the other to use her name. 

Her words made Harry realise just how much Hermione’s first name must mean to her. Harry’s first name meant a lot to him too, but he couldn’t help to think that it must be even more important to someone like Hermione, who picked her name as a reflection of who she is. It then hit him that Teddy was probably feeling the same attachment to his chosen name as Hermione. 

Everyone in the group took the time to acknowledge that they wanted Teddy to use their first names as well, which appeared to make the teenager very happy. However, on the way back inside, he confessed to Harry that he rather liked calling him Lupling, and wondered if it was alright with Harry that he continued. Harry decided once and for all that he truly didn’t mind the nickname, which he told Teddy, much to his appreciation. 

When the group returned inside, the scent of hot cocoa and tea filled the air. They all sat down in the living room to eat dessert and drink hot beverages, which did wonders to reheat their cold bodies. Snuffles took up residence next to the open fireplace, where he proceeded to slowly melt the lumps of snow in his pink fur. 

Most of them had become rather tired by then, and the chatter was replaced with slightly sleepy or tired remarks here and there. Still, the less active talking was pleasant to Harry, who used the opportunity to rest against his boyfriend’s shoulder with a steaming cup of cocoa in his hands. Harry wasn’t the only one who was getting tired, he saw that both Hermione and Neville were both struggling to keep their eyes open, even if it wasn’t all that late yet. However Draco, Teddy, Ron and Ginny seemed rather awake. By the fire, Snuffles had actually fallen asleep. 

“Perhaps it is time to open the presents, and then for us to leave?” Remus’ distinct voice rose over the relaxed murmurs in the room. 

“Ah, yes. Hermione should open her present from mother.” Draco spoke up with a smile as Harry sleepily sat up from his shoulder. “So that I may tell her what you thought of it. Is there anyone else who should open their present today?” 

“You could open yours, if you’d like?” Harry suggested, smiling at his boyfriend. 

Draco blinked at him, appearing quite surprised to learn that Harry had a present for him. “When did you… How did you get it here?” 

“I had dad take it here for me, as I knew that you would be suspicious if you saw me with a package.” Harry grinned, leaning his head to the side. 

“Clever.” Draco laughed softly before leaning in to give Harry a soft peck on the cheek. He then accepted the present which had floated over to him, by courtesy of Remus’ magic. 

Hermione accepted her present as well, looking expectantly at Draco to learn if she could open it or not. He encouraged her with a nod, upon which she began to unwrap it. Once she was holding her present in her hands, which was a book, she let out a sharp gasp, which was quickly followed by a squeak of happiness. 

Neville smiled at her, leaning his head to the side. “What did you get?” 

“It’s… a really old book… I can’t believe I’m holding something like this…” Hermione mumbled as she carefully stroke over the cover of the book, as if to confirm to herself that it was actually real. 

“What book did you get?” Teddy craned his neck to try and see something, but he was too far away and there was a table between them. “I get that it’s old but what about the name?” 

“Oh, y-yes.” Hermione hesitated slightly. She appeared very emotional, and was struggling to exist outside of her own head space. However, she appeared very happy, overwhelmingly so. “It’s called Magical Enhancement, a guide to fashion alteration. It’s a book with spells and instructions in how to use magic to enhance certain garments without the need for extra padding and the like. It’s an old book so it’s not about modern fashion but… Ah, I talked to Mrs. Malfoy about this kind of magic, I never would have thought…” A happy sob left Hermione’s lips as she hugged the book close to herself. “This is an amazing gift, please tell your mother I am beyond touched and happy.” 

“I shall. I think she wrote a letter as well and put it inside the book, but maybe you want to read that on your own.” Draco could see the happiness in his friend’s eyes. It made him feel very proud, even if he hadn’t really done anything but introduced the two women to each other. Nonetheless, the old book, which he had seen his mother read a few times, truly was evidence for how serious Narcissa Malfoy took her relationship with her young protégé. 

“I shall!” Hermione hugged the book close to her chest, smiling as she breathed in the scent of old parchment and the faded ink. 

Draco turned back to his own present, which was also distinctively book shaped. Harry was looking expectantly at him, hoping that he wasn’t giving anything away by simply looking. Then again, Draco wasn’t Professor Snape, he had no real way of telling what was in the package simply by studying Harry’s expression. 

He opened the present to find a book inside, it appeared glossy enough to not be a mage printed book. Draco lifted it up and studied it, which had A Global History printed on the cover, with no under title. He smiled and turned towards Harry. “A Muggle history book?” He asked as he met his boyfriend’s gaze. 

“Yep!” Harry confirmed. “So you know how in Muggle Studies, the Professor has been speaking about how the religion of Christianity has heavily influenced almost all of Western history writing? This book is about Global history, and is attempting to show the history of the world through a non-Christian focus. It also addresses misconceptions and older false history, presenting newer more concrete evidence. I have read the introduction, and I think you would rather like a bigger overview than something that just centers around one country or region.” 

Draco nodded approvingly throughout his boyfriend’s little speech. “I think that sounds very interesting, thank you.” 

“Could I perhaps have a look at that book?” Mr. Weasley carefully spoke up. “I’ve read some books like it, but if this one is a good one, I might look into finding a copy for myself.” 

Draco was a little hesitant to hand over his present just like that, but he was also too proud to act possessive over a book. Mr. Weasley wasn’t asking to have a look at something like his snake cuffs, he simply asked to look at a book which Draco didn’t know enough about to be defensive of. Thus, he allowed the adult to look at his book. Soon enough, it was given back to him with an approving nod. 

“That sounds like a good introduction to Muggle history, if you ask me.” Mr. Weasley confirmed. 

“Thank you.” Draco smiled as he accepted the book back, hugging it to his chest, although not as tightly as Hermione hugged hers. 

“Are there any other packages which should be opened today?” Remus studied the present pile which spread out from under the small, thin holiday tree which had been stuffed into a corner and decorated by some means of the word. Harry hadn’t even noticed it until now, as the books around it had caused the tree to rather melt into the décor. 

Everyone waited for someone to speak up, but as nobody did, Remus stood up from his seat and began to thank Molly Weasley for the lovely day and evening, and for the wonderful food. Thus, everyone began to say goodbye, most of the teenagers hugged one another while the adults wished one another well. Harry, still being the type to like hugs, hugged everyone of his friends, while Draco only hugged Hermione and Neville. It was the first time Harry and Teddy actually hugged casually as such, and the other took care that he was not hugged too close to Harry, as it made him uncomfortable to be that physically close. 

After this, Harry, Draco, Remus and Snuffles, as well as Professor Snape, exited the Burrow, walked past the ruins of Castle Weasley, and found a good surface from which to apparate back their separate ways. While Remus and Professor Snape discussed him coming back to the Lupin household after dropping Draco off, and possibly having a cup of tea with Draco’s parents, Harry and Draco said goodbye. 

They would be seeing each other soon, and yet, Harry felt a tingle of desperation in letting Draco go after hugging him around the neck. Draco might have felt the same, as he appeared to feel equal adversity to letting his boyfriend go. The two adults and the dogs let them take their time, while Snuffles explored the remains of Castle Weasley. 

Finally, the two new boyfriends separated. Neither of them were comfortable kissing the other in front of an audience, but Draco still gave Harry a small peck on the cheek before pulling back. It was the perfect action to mean enough to Harry without being overly intimate in front of people. 

Harry waited to take his dad’s arm until after Remus bent down to pick up the big, still pink, dog in his arms to assure that he didn’t lose grip of him during the apparition. Draco accepted Professor Snape’s outstretched arm. He then waved, and in the time between Harry blinking and opening his eyes again, his boyfriend and his dad’s partner had left them. 

Remus looked down at his son with a soft smile. “I’ll count to three.” 

That night, Harry struggled a little to fall asleep, as he had since he came back to his own bed. He hadn’t realised that it had become so natural to sleep in the same bed as Draco that the bed felt very empty without somebody else there with him. Harry regretted, not for the first time, the fact that Snuffles wasn’t a real dog, and he couldn’t just have the animal snuggle up with him without also snuggling his semi-mad dogfather who had a crush on his biological dad. Further, he didn’t want to bother his dad when Professor Snape was staying over, even if neither of the adults would blame him for bothering them. 

Thus, Harry got up from the bed, and pulled on a pair of thick socks to let him brave the cold floors. He silently made himself a cup of tea without bothering the adults, with the exception of Snuffles who simply looked at Harry from the living room couch, but didn’t bother getting up and speaking to him. Snuffles was still recovering, and the excitement and fun of the day had drained him. In the dying embers of the fireplace, Harry could see that he was still pink. 

Harry gave the dog a pat on the head before returning to his own room, having grabbed a big cushion as a stand in for Draco. Well back, he brushed the pillow off, trying to get the dog hair away from it and then shamelessly pushed the hair he did get off into a corner. He would clean it up later.

With his Draco replacement resting on his lap, Harry turned on the light over his bed, and curled together with a warm cup of tea and The Count of Monte Cristo. Harry might miss his boyfriend, but he wouldn’t allow himself to feel too distressed about it while he could still make himself comfortable. It wouldn’t replace the warmth and closeness to Draco, but it would have to do. 

Soon enough, Harry was engrossed in the book. It helped him become sleepy enough that he could more easily fall asleep, wrapped around the cushion which offered him needed comfort in lack of Draco. 

Chapter Text

“Rem. Rem. Rem.” 

Alongside every repetition of his name came another buff against his body, causing him to rock softly where he was lying. Remus groaned as he was awoken by the continuous noise and pushes. 

“Rem. Remus. Resum.” 

“What?” Remus opened his eyes, slowly blinking as his eyes adjusted to his dark bedroom. He absentmindedly reached for Severus, but the man was no longer there, causing a surge of fear to throb through the man. He sat up, searching for his partner. Instead, he found Sirius, who was sitting on his knees upon Remus’ bed. He smelled slightly distressed, but also highly amused, but Remus was struggling to make him out in the dim light. 

“I’m freaking pink.” Sirius said, pointing to something, or waving his hand around. 

“You’re what?” Remus tried to understand the other, but before his morning tea, everything seemed completely incomprehensible to him. Expect the fact that Severus was gone and that he felt a desperate need to go find him. Right now. Although he managed to suppress the urge to run off and search for his partner. Had this been close to or close after a full moon, Remus would probably already have been out the door to find the man. 

“I’m still pink!” Sirius repeated. “I’m still pink, my hair, my beard, or stubble or whatever it is. I’m still pink!” He paused shortly to make sure that Remus had gotten it this time. “It’s hilarious.” He grinned. “Also, it looks good on me. If anyone of the redheads had eaten that cookie, pink would have looked terrible on them, but I’m pulling it off.” He shook his head, sending his hair dancing around his face. It was far too early for Remus to argue with Sirius about subjective tastes, so he let the comment slide.

“This room is comparatively more crowded than when I left.” Severus’ had appeared in the doorway, and was already fully dressed. As he opened the door, Remus felt the scent of food coming with him. 

Simply seeing the man made him feel more relaxed. It must have been evident in his expression, because Severus came over and let him rest his head against his chest, letting Remus happily breathe in his scent. If Remus had been a dog, he was sure that his tail would have been wagging from the moment he saw his partner, and only increased in speed the closer the man got to him. He was so very, very relieved that Severus hadn’t actually gone anywhere. 

“Hey, Snape,” Sirius leaned forward, grinning at the former Slytherin student. “I didn’t know you knew a good prank when you saw one. Really, I feel like I should be angry, but this is hilarious. You win this one.” 

Severus raised an eyebrow at the little pink haired man. “...Appreciated,” he finally stated. “However, it was no challenge. I would highly appreciate it if you do not let any old illusions get to your head.” 

“I’m giving you a compliment and you are giving me a lecture?” Sirius grunted disapprovingly as he leaned back. 

“Your previous actions have made you worthy of nothing else.” Severus stated in a very straightforward and plain manner.

Sirius transformed into his animagus form then and jumped off the bed, pretending that he couldn’t understand human speech, and promptly escaped the room. 

Severus didn’t seem surprised, but the removal of his former bully allowed him the privacy of petting Remus on the head. 

Remus laced his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I thought you had left.” He mumbled weakly against his partner’s chest. 

Severus carefully slid his hand in under the collar of his shirt, gently tracing two fingers along his upper spine, making Remus gasp softly. The touch was very pleasant without really being sexual, instead, it was only sensual. “I do believe we have been over this. I am not about to leave without telling you, unless something urgent demands my immediate attention.” His hand slid up again, as he stepped back a finger graced over Remus’ cheek. “I have to return to breakfast making before Bl- Potter decides to disturb my cooking.” 

Remus nodded before he began to search for his pajama trousers, as Severus left the room. Almost every night Remus told himself that he should put his pajama trousers somewhere easy to find, and almost every night he failed to heed his own advice. Last night had been no exception, and thus ensured Remus’ daily morning ritual of finding his lost trousers. 

As he searched, Remus thought to himself that he was really proud of his partner for addressing Sirius in a way which would have made him comfortable, had he been in the room. It made him happy to know that Severus made an effort even when the person in question wasn’t there to appreciate it. Further, the fact that Sirius could admit that he found the whole being pink thing to be hilarious was a relief to Remus, who couldn’t help fearing that Sirius would want revenge. 

He found the trousers and pulled them on, stuck his feet into his slippers, and wandered out into the kitchen. The first thing Remus heard upon entering the kitchen was a deep, dissatisfied bark. Severus had placed the wrong bowl in front of the dog, namely Harry’s green one, and Sirius was letting his dissatisfaction be known. Severus was ignoring him in favor of cooking. 

From what Remus could tell, his partner had prepared a simple bread which was being baked in the oven, and was currently busying himself by frying eggs and bacon for the household and himself. He had paid for all of the ingredients himself, thus, Remus found it reasonable that he did what he wanted with them. 

“Is Harry awake?” Remus didn’t aim the question at anyone in particular as he swapped the bowls to be the way that Sirius was used to. 

“I decided to allow him to sleep until he wakes.” Severus responded. “He appeared tired last evening.” 

Sirius rested his pink head on the table, letting out a subtle huff into the air. 

“You’re right. There is no rush for him to wake up.” Remus sat down on his seat before reaching over and pulling some of the animagus’ pink fur to the side. “Your roots are becoming dark again. You will probably not be pink for more than two more days at most.” 

“No dog heads on the table.” Severus commented without turning around. “I do not desire fur to come into the food, no matter what color it may be.” 

Sirius dog noises sounded a little like ‘spoilsport’ when he obeyed the demand from the chef. There was bacon and eggs on the line after all, he wasn’t going to risk it. 

As Severus was taking the bread out of the oven, Harry wandered into the kitchen, holding a cushion. He then stopped, looked down at the cushion, and threw it over to the nearby sofa, where it landed without incident. “Good morning, dad, dog, sir.” He sat down on his seat and rubbed his eyes. “Is there any juice? I see that my dogfather is still pink.” 

Sirius huffed proudly and wagged his tail. 

“Good morning,” Remus stood up to get his son a glass and the juice package. “Why were you having a cushion with you?” He handed both to Harry.

“Boyfriend replacement.” Harry accepted them with a smile. “It felt so lonely to sleep alone.” 

“Ah,” Remus nodded. He had that problem as well, mostly every time that Severus left. However, he had a dog replacement which he could utilise, unlike his son. “If you’d like, I might be able to find some manner of bigger pillow for you in a Muggle store during the sales after Christmas. It’s not much, but it might offer some company when you are apart.”  

Harry looked very happy at the suggestion. “I would like that a lot.” 

“Good morning,” Severus sat down as two plates filled with egg and bacon respectively floated over and settled onto the table, followed by a cutting board with bread. The fridge door opened and a package of butter came to settle next to the cutting board. 

Sirius whimpered as he saw the food. He then looked to Severus with pleading eyes, wagging his tail hopefully. 

“I recall your current predicament to be pretending to be a dog. You will have to eat like that no matter how delicious the food might appear. It is not safe for you to continuously be so careless.” He did not look at the sad animagus, instead, he focused on the teapot which hovered over towards the table and landed softly.

This time, the dog noises sounded distinctly like ‘evil.’ Although it came out a bit more as ‘rrbbll.’ Remus understood it through context. 

“Dogs usually eat on the floor.” Severus calmly stated as he picked the pot up and poured himself some tea. “Remus?” He raised the pot towards his partner, evidently asking if he wanted some tea. 

“Please.” Remus smiled at him, leaning his head to the side. 

“H… Lupin?” Severus turned towards Harry after filling Remus’ cup. 

“Yes, thank you.” Harry pushed his teacup closer to the man. “I believed I had stated that you may call me by my first name, Professor. Should you wish.” 

“I do not wish to appear to be favorising any students.” The man answered, clearly giving an automatic response without really thinking about it. 

“You’re dating my dad, it’s a little strange for you to call me by our surname when we are not attending Hogwarts as student and teacher.” Harry’s answer was so quick that it almost appeared to have been rehearsed, just as the response was very polite. Remus wasn’t certain if the vocabulary was something Harry had picked up from him, Severus, through school, literature or perhaps spending so much time with the Malfoys. It was a little impressive to see how mature his fourteen years old son could sound when he wished to. 

Remus smiled as he filled Sirius’ bowl with bacon and eggs. “Harry puts forth a good argument,” he commented before picking up a piece of bread, which he broke into pieces into the bowl so that it would be easier for the dog to eat. 

“No paws on the table…” Severus sighed after glancing at the animagus, using the opportunity to consider what answer he wanted to give to Harry. 

Sirius, who was standing with both paws on the table, raised one of them. Now there were no paws, only a paw. He grinned a canine grin at the Professor, knowing that he had won this fight, at least grammatically. 

Severus turned towards Harry. He appeared to study the teenager for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. “When I am in your home, I will call you by your name, would that arrangement be acceptable?” 

“It would, sir.” Harry smiled as he gave his bowl to Remus, upon the man’s signalling that he wanted to put some food on his son’s plate. 

Sirius stared at Harry with a gaping jaw, before turning to look at Severus. He turned his furry head between them, then looked to Remus and whimpered. He was clearly asking why Severus was allowed to use Harry’s name when he was not. 

“You know the answer to that.” Remus didn’t even look at him. Sirius knew that all he needed to do was apologise to Severus, and continue to treat him with respect. Still, he hadn’t done the former as of yet. “More eggs, Harry?” 

“No thanks, this is great.” Harry accepted the plate back before he began buttering his piece of bread. He was planning to make a bacon and egg sandwich, and didn’t feel like he needed that many eggs to fulfill his ambition. 

Sirius responded by beginning to eat his food. He was grumpy at first, but soon his tail was wagging, as the food was apparently to his liking. 

The three mages began eating as well, and soon they enjoyed a calm breakfast together. They were a very different household compared to the lively Weasley household, even if they weren’t exactly quiet. There was a calm over their conversations, and they ended up speaking about topics of interest, or otherwise education based topics. Yet unlike the Malfoy household, their breakfast wasn’t formal and silent out of a need to focus on manners. 

Remus told his son, partner, and dog, about how Hagrid was progressing as a teacher in a calm voice, one that likely wouldn’t have been heard at the Weasleys’ table. He did of course not mention anything private about his student, but he chose words which conveyed his progress without revealing too much about the state before that progress. 

“Is it hard to become a teacher?” Harry asked, looking between the two Professors. 

Remus nodded from side to side as he thought about it. “I think that the hardest part is remembering that people are different, and learn in different ways. And it isn’t always fun to teach everything about your subject, but you are still required to.” He hesitated. “I think that, to some people, education for teachers doesn’t always remember that we are teaching people, and not simply the white void. Hagrid has been struggling with that fact, but he is learning to think about what is good for his students as well as what he wants to do.” He summarised. 

“I found it rather lacking in that area as well.” Severus agreed. “Teacher education does not take as long as educating yourself to be a Professor, so the former felt rather… compressed.” 

They continued to speak a little more in-depth about the education to become a teacher, until Sirius got bored and wandered off to the bathroom. The adults took that as a sign that they might have had breakfast for rather long. Remus told his son that he might do whatever he wanted while he and Severus cleaned up. They would call for him once they were done and it was time to open the presents. 

As their breakfast had been so late and so filling, they collectively decided that the food which they had prepared for lunch a few days before would instead be eaten as a lunch and dinner hybrid. Harry had been the one to suggest it after eating two egg and bacon sandwiches, and the rest of the household had agreed. 

Remus and Severus spoke to one another as they handled the dishes in Muggle fashion out of it being the habit of the Lupin household, with the conversation turning to the Malfoys, but more specifically, Lucius Malfoy. They weren’t trying to keep the conversation from Harry, but it also didn’t feel like a conversation which Harry should have to be involved in. 

It all began with a rather simple question: “how is Narcissa and her husband?” Remus asked, since his partner had spent some time drinking tea with them the previous evening. 

“It was pleasant. Narcissa was telling me about her shopping tour with Hermione Granger. She appears very happy to have gained a protégé,” Severus began. “As for Lucius, to be frank he’s struggling quite some, but it is to be expected. It seems that the man hasn’t changed as much as accepted defeat in the face of a world which does not share his values. I’m not quite certain whether he will ever quite change, but he has very well accepted that the world, as it is, doesn’t welcome the ways in which he would have preferred our community to be shaped. His mind is having quite a harder time than Narcissa’s to accept that he has been wrong all along, and would rather think that the perceived superiority and values of his are quite real, but have come to not matter the way it used to within society.” Severus had, as he did commonly, answered a question on Remus' mind which hadn't been exactly what he had asked for in words.

Remus licked his lips and sighed subtly. He supposed that it was a little unrealistic to hope for the man to change his views of the world. He knew well how hard it was for people to admit that they had been wrong for a long time, especially about something which had large consequences, such as the mage war. It was one of the many reasons he admired Severus so immensely, because the man held no illusions of having been right in his actions of the past, and was perfectly capable of admitting to having been misguided and wrong.

The words shouldn't in any way be a surprise, yet upon hearing them, without really wanting to, Remus felt doubt creep into his mind ever so slightly, getting a bit distracted from the dishes. His partner noticed and rather swiftly enchanted the dishes so as to have them wash themselves, before turning towards Remus.

“Ask, you do want to get it off your mind,” Severus insisted. He spoke in a rather soft, even careful, voice reserved for whenever the two of them were truly alone. It hadn’t been some hidden side of the man which he had only revealed to Remus, but rather a tone of voice which had slowly come into existence with the progression of their relationship. Further, he reached out to take Remus hand in his, softly stroking his thumb over the back of the hand.

Severus appeared ever so unfazed in regards to the question, one which Remus feared to voice out loud despite knowing well that the other already knew what he feared knowing. Severus rarely ever showed emotions outwards too extensively, least of all on his face, but it didn’t mean that the other man didn’t feel, which Remus knew very well. There had been times, especially early in their relationship after having discussed the past and mark of the Dark Lord on the man’s arm, where Severus had been less collected, allowing himself to crack ever so slightly at the edges, although not quite crumble. Times when he had sought comfort in Remus emotionally and physically, when he truly needed to let out some of the pain and anguish he had kept bottled up for years, and where Remus truly felt like he had been able to help the other. As those moments had become fewer, Severus seemed to have grown into being ever so slightly more comfortable with himself and his surroundings again, being somewhat distant and polite towards most by choice, and not because he felt the need to shut himself off from everything and everyone. 

Remus sighed and pulled his partner into an embrace, putting his arms around the shorter man and allowing himself to hide his face against Severus’s neck.

“Did he mean any of it?” Remus mumbled silently against the other, and felt a hand reach up to pet the back of his head in gentle encouragement. Severus truly was gentle, and could be quite so careful and considerate these days, something which at first seemed to have gone lost over the years the two of them had been apart.

Severus knew what he was asking already, thus Remus didn’t have to specify the question in a more comprehensible manner. “In a way he meant every word. As I stated, while Lucius believes that he is right in his superiority, he finds himself in a world where said superiority matters less, and thus acknowledges his family’s bond with yours, even if he himself isn’t too well acquainted with either of you. He cares little for your condition as long as he and his family will never be personally affected by it, and is rather relieved to treat your son as anything but the icon which he is not, as it seems to have grown into a way of being allowed to avoid what said icon symbolises.” 

Remus felt himself relax his shoulders as he sighed in relief. He hadn’t quite dared hoping, as he was far too used to rejection for his condition. If Lucius Malfoy actually acknowledged them, Harry especially, as valuable to his family, then that was more than enough.

It was true that the world was changing, slowly but surely, leaving some of its prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-born mages behind. It might not have changed much in terms of werewolf prejudice, but Hogwarts was actively letting Severus teach the werewolf lessons for all third year students, allowing a new generation to be brought up on facts and reason, rather than fear and hatred. It wasn’t perfect, there were still many more things which would have to be done, but it was going in the right direction with the Dark Lord being gone once and for all, and the followers having been scattered and held responsible for their crimes. Safety and peace brought about opportunity for change. 

As he nuzzled his partner’s neck, Remus found himself forming a stray thought in regards to Severus' words. He came to repeat the words ‘acknowledges his family’s bonds with yours’ within his mind, realising that there was a part of him which would have preferred, perhaps even wished, that Severus would have said ‘ours.’ 

He felt Severus suddenly stiffen in his arms, clearly having been as unprepared for the stray thought as Remus himself had been. Remus held his breath for a second as they remained standing there in silence. 

Then, Severus shifted and pushed out of the embrace ever so slightly, only to lean up and place a kiss on his lips, one which Remus eagerly but carefully returned. Severus had been having the very same expression on his face, the same vulnerable one, as whenever they touched upon a subject sensitive enough to claw at closed but fragile wounds. Remus had come to learn that Severus had as hard a time to imagine being in a relationship as Remus himself, and while Remus had gotten the time to get used to being part of a family once more, Severus hadn’t. It wasn’t something Remus wanted to push the other into. They hadn’t been together for very long, and yet Severus was evidently trying to face his fears and break down his own defenses to be part of Remus’ life. He truly did not want to rush the man in any sense.

Remus let his lover drown his sudden fears and emotions in the kiss, feeling safe in the knowledge that he could do something for Severus, once more feeling the warmth from the love he felt for the man. Neither of them would claim themselves to be fully stable and steady the way which was expected of adults within the world. The both of them had deep scars from the past, but together it seemed the two of them could, slowly but surely, help each other heal.

Severus didn’t say anything more after the kiss. His expression was neutral, but Remus still recognised the emotions within the other’s eyes, and he smiled.

The Lupin household gathered in the living room for the opening of the presents. Harry had spent some time reading in his room, but it had become a little boring and he had come to sit in the living room with Snuffles. The dog noticed that Harry was reading his favorite book, and had noted his enjoyment by barking happily while wagging his tail. Harry interpreted the barks as his dogfather asking what part he was at, and so he told him. 

Remus and Severus found them on the sofa, with Harry retelling what he had read so far to the pink dog, who wagged his tail and nodded eagerly at the vivid retelling of Harry’s two reading sessions. 

Remus smiled as Sirius jumped off the sofa and ran to the presents, then lowered down and barked. He was clearly excited, despite not knowing that he had a package waiting for him. 

“Are you enjoying your book?” Remus swept his hand over the sofa, and all the gathered dog hair bundled up and flew towards the closest trash can. 

“Very much. At least for now. I’m imagining it might take some willpower to get through the whole book, since it's this very thick, but I’m enjoying it so far.” Harry pulled his legs off the sofa to make room for Remus, as Professor Snape sat down in Remus’ favorite armchair. “Would you want me to make some tea before we open the presents?” Harry looked the two adults over. 

“I’m fine, thanks.” Remus smiled as he sat down upon the sofa next to his son. He had concluded based on the excited dog that Sirius wanted to hand out the presents. 

“Likewise.” Professor Snape concluded. 

“I’ll make a pot later then.” Harry said, with a glint in his eye. 

Remus wasn’t sure if that comment was meant to mean anything, but he noted to himself that his son might know something that he didn’t. 

“Do you need any help with that?” Harry continued as Sirius carefully grabbed a package with his teeth and carried it over to the table, leaving it there for someone to pick up. 

The dog shook his head and continued his venture, until he had gathered all of the presents in the middle of the table. He clearly expected someone else to divide it up for him, and that someone came to be Remus. Harry got two of them, one from Remus and one from Severus. Severus got two as well, one from Remus, and one from Harry. Sirius got one, which was from Severus, judging by the handwriting. Remus had, to his great surprise, gotten three gifts. One was from Severus, one was from Harry, and one was from Narcissa Malfoy. Even as a child, Remus hadn’t really gotten a lot of presents, so to have three of them as an adult made him feel very confused. Happy, but confused. Although he was not as confused as Sirius, who was staring at his own present with a look of disbelief and hostility. 

“It’s… fluffy.” Harry laughed to himself as he picked up the package from Remus and squeezed it gently. “I’m assuming it’s not actually a book then?” He looked excited, clearly thrilled by the mystery of his package which was not a book. 

Remus smiled at his son. “You may open it, you don’t have to hold back.” 

Harry happily unfolded the comparatively big package and opened it to reveal a collection of clothes. They were all brand new, which clearly surprised Harry who wasn’t that used to seeing the clothing labels still attached to the clothes. “Wow…” Harry clearly didn’t know what else to say as he looked through what he had gotten. 

As Harry had gotten a very sturdy and high quality pair of trousers from Draco, he didn’t need another set of black trousers, so Remus had gotten him a pair of brown ones, a new, plain, white dress shirt for everyday use, a warm cardigan to be warm and cozy throughout the rest of December as well as January and February. The cardigan was blue and green striped in muted colors, it was a slightly asymmetrical pattern with some thicker and some thinner stripes. Harry wasted no time to pull it on, happily exclaiming that it was soft. The final item was a dark tartan skirt which reached to about Harry’s ankles. The blue and green colors on the skirt matched the cardigan rather well despite being some tones darker. Harry held the skirt up and turned it about, then, with great excitement, he exclaimed “it has pockets!” 

“I thought that since you do not have any skirts, and since that one matched the cardigan, that that one might be a skirt you’d enjoy?” Remus hesitated, hoping that he hadn’t overstepped a boundary in taking a chance of what he thought his son might want to wear. “We can return it if you do not like it.”

“This is perfect, Hermione is going to be so excited about these pockets. She told me that Muggle clothes don’t really have pockets, especially not on skirts.” Harry grinned as he put the skirt aside. “I will definitely wear it. Thanks, dad.” 

“You are welcome. Draco helped me with your current measurements since they were taken recently. I thought I should disclose my sources so as to not take too much credit.” Remus chuckled, relieved that his son liked the pieces of clothing he had bought for him. 

Up until that point, Remus had continuously referred to Draco Malfoy by his surname, but since Harry had started to date him, Remus found it a little silly to refer to the teenager by his surname. Thus, when Draco had helped him by giving him his son’s current measurements so that he could buy clothes for Harry, Remus concluded once and for all that it was probably alright if he referred to his former student by his first name. Of course, he asked Draco for permission once they met yesterday, and Draco had no objections to this arrangement.

Sirius had begun gnawing on his gift, trying to open it carefully, as if it might explode, all the while studying Severus. Severus looked on with passive disinterest, his face revealing nothing. 

Having managed to gnaw a hole in the package as the Lupins talked, Sirius walked around the present and then turned it upside down, sending all the items within the gift scattering all over the floor. The noise made everyone but Severus jump. 

“Ow…” Harry bent down under the table and picked up the object with a metal clasp which had hit him on his toe. He held it up to see what it was, frowning slightly. “Is this… a leash?” He asked. 

Sirius was currently sniffing the other object which had been in the present, namely the thick, light blue collar which had fallen in front of him. 

Remus looked between the objects, then turned to his partner, silently asking him what these objects were for. 

Severus didn't hesitate to begin to explain, “Snuffles is a very large dog, and he appears feral to most casual observers. Whenever he walks down the streets, especially without a collar, he risks frightening the Muggles. If you do not want to be troubled by the police, or other Muggle authorities, then simply using a leash and a collar is the most effective way to assure that. Besides, you both could use more fresh air more frequently.” He concluded. “As for the color choice, Potter, it was the color most easily distinguishable against your fur. When it is not pink, that is. A black collar might have been hard to see, and make you appear more frightening than you are.” 

Sirius huffed at the comment, not really able to disagree with the man. 

“It’s a very thoughtful gift.” Remus smiled at his partner. “You are very right in that some fresh air, light and exercise might do us both well.” 

Sirius huffed and went to collect the leash from Harry, which he put on top of the collar in a pile. He appeared confused even as he watched the gifts, it was as if he couldn’t comprehend that the items had been given to him not as a joke or an insult, but as a way for him to experience freedom around town without becoming troubled by worried Muggles. 

Remus opened his present next, starting with the one from Narcissa. Inside, he found a collection of six jars of tea, neatly arranged into two lines, each of which had an elegant label and came with brewing instructions, as well as some properties of every blend. Remus felt astounded as he picked two of the simple glass jars up and peered down upon the labels, one of which said orange and lemon, and the other which said blueberry. He decided to smell the orange and lemon one, and found that it was a very pleasant aroma to the tea. He didn’t recall smelling it before, but it was nonetheless an agreeable scent. 

“This blend is one of my favorites.” Severus leaned forward and tapped a jar labelled strawberry and herbs (red tea). “Narcissa introduced it to me some years ago.” 

Remus opened the box up and smelled the tea, then nodded to himself before letting Harry smell it. “I’m looking forward to trying it.” 

“It smells sweet… Kind of?” Harry mumbled to himself before inhaling some more of the scent. “Mh...Maybe I’m imagining it?” He gave the box back. 

Remus put it back with the rest of the tea. “I will have to write to Narcissa and thank her later.” 

The Lupins came to look at Severus then, silently asking him to open one of his presents. Severus still appeared somewhat unconvinced that the gifts were actually for him. He wasn’t in disbelief like Sirius was, and he certainly didn’t appear to have a direct hospitality to his presents, however, there was something which made it hard for him to accept that he had indeed been given something. Not just one present, but two. 

Finally, Severus picked up Harry’s gift and began to open it in a conscientious manner. Next to Remus, his son became very busy mumbling under his breath, clearly trying very hard to not let the Professor read his mind and learn what was inside the package. Harry repeated a recipe which he had recently learnt in Potions, judging by the list of ingredients that he was rambling. For a second, surprise passed over the man’s face as Severus revealed to himself what was inside the package. Remus recognised a book upon his lap, but he didn’t lean in to see it any closer. He didn’t want to interfere until he was shown the gift by the man himself. 

Severus picked the book up and studied the cover, then carefully flipped through some of the pages, unknowingly doing the same thing which Harry had done when he had first found the book.

“It’s a Muggle printed book on flora and fauna with painted artwork depicting the plants. I found it at a second hand shop,” Harry mostly told his dad. “Because it wasn’t written for magical purposes, it wasn’t very valuable according to the store but I think it’s beautiful.” 

Severus had stopped on an intricate drawing of wolfsbane, he reached out to touch the flower, letting his fingers rest on the drawing as if he could actually feel the small petals against his skin. He didn’t exactly appear emotional, but there was a softness in his eyes which Remus immediately identified. It was clear to him that Severus really appreciated the gift. 

Remus was just about to ask Harry to open his next package so that Severus was allowed some more time to feel, when the man spoke up. 

“I’m grateful, it is a most thoughtful gift.” His voice wasn’t too loud, yet it didn’t necessarily sound weak either. 

Remus couldn’t stop but to feel as if his partner’s voice was slightly strained in an attempt to keep his emotions back, but he wasn’t about to allow himself to make assumptions. He could smell that Severus was feeling a mix of emotions, but they were hard to make out and they rather overlapped to the point where Remus knew that Severus couldn’t quite distinguish them from one another. 

Harry beamed at the man. “You’re welcome. I’ll open my book shaped package now.” He announced his intentions loudly, most likely to draw attention away from Severus to allow him to untangle his feelings in peace. 

Harry opened his present to find a potions handbook within. He appeared a little confused at first, but once he read on the back of the cover, he had a realisation. “It’s the potions text book for next year, is it not?” Harry grinned at the Professor. 

Severus nodded in return, but didn’t speak up. Perhaps he didn’t trust his voice to carry his words without faltering. 

“That’s very thoughtful.” Remus smiled as he studied the thickness of the book. It appeared to be a somewhat more expensive book, which meant that not only had Severus given Harry something he needed, but he had also helped take some strain off Remus’ economy, albeit not a gigantic one. 

“Oh, it had a study guide for the OWL exams…” Harry mumbled as he continued to read on the back of the book. “Neville is going to love that, he had been very worried about the OWL for Potions.” 

“Should I open your present next, Harry?” Remus addressed his son, causing the teenager to look up from his present. 

“Oh, yeah!” He nodded and placed the book aside. “I hope they fit you.” Harry said as Remus picked up a small and soft package with Harry’s signature on it. 

He assumed it was going to be something knitted, and he was right. Inside, he found a pair of wrist warmers which had been knitted with brown and red colors in a bit of a mismatch which complimented Remus’ sense of fashion almost perfectly. He smiled and pulled the wrist warmers on, sticking his thumbs through the two holes in each of the items. They fit perfectly, which Remus told his son. 

“That makes me happy, I made them that way assuming that they would be a little big on you…” Harry commented with a slightly bashful expression. “I’m glad I didn’t go for the original size I had planned then.”

Remus chuckled and patted his son’s back. “You’re becoming very good at knitting. These stiches are very tight.” 

Harry beamed at him, stretching up a little. “I followed the advice I got in my knitting book. It was a little hard in the beginning, but I think it came out looking good.” 

“It very much did.” Remus agreed. Then, after glancing at Severus, he decided to continue with his own gift opening. He reached for his present from his partner and began to open it. Inside, he found a kit of useful herbs and potion ingredients which were a little more expensive, but also universally useful for many common aches. He recognised some ingredients to make a potion for headaches, and another which was commonly used for stomach pain. However, these weren’t really ingredients which Remus' economy allowed him to keep in his home at all times, which meant that the present allowed him a small luxury he usually couldn’t afford. 

Remus turned to face his partner, smiling at him. “This is just what I needed. Thank you very much.” 

Severus nodded, seemingly having gathered himself enough to no longer smell so strongly of mixed emotions. “You are welcome.” 

There was one present left. Sirius had lost interest in the opening of the presents and had stretched out in front of the fireplace. He had turned his behind to the collar, seemingly having settled on ignoring it until he had decided how to feel about it. Harry leaned back on the sofa, seemingly satisfied with the fact that his present had fit Remus. 

Remus was beginning to feel a little nervous that his present was a little too emotionally loaded. Severus, hearing his thoughts, glanced towards him. Remus avoided his gaze before answering inside his head, knowing that Severus would hear it. 

You don’t have to open it now. You can open it while we are alone. 

Severus stared for a few seconds longer, before he reached out to pick the small, square package up, replacing the book on his lap with Remus’ gift. Remus observed him, feeling a little anxious over his choice of present. Nonetheless, Severus ignored his worries and continued to open the packaging, as if to prove to both himself and Remus that he could control his emotions. 

Inside the wrapping was a small jewellery box made out of white cardboard. Severus removed the lid and looked inside. Upon a piece of red fabric rested a silver chain necklace, upon which also connected a collection of ornaments depicting the phases of the moon. The full moon one was in the middle and had a small gem engraved in it, one which Remus didn’t know the name of, but found pretty. The gem was a small, white rock which stuck out slightly from the flat surface of the full moon. 

Severus carefully picked up the jewellery piece and studied it. Remus felt like some manner of explanation was needed, since his partner had specifically expressed that he had no need for anything as of currently when he had previously asked about Holiday gifts. 

Thus, Remus began explaining, although he never uttered a word out loud. There were some perks with dating someone who could read one’s mind, which Remus took advantage of at that moment. 

I know you said you didn’t need anything, and I fully intended on adhering to your request, but I walked past that necklace in a store window, and it reminded me of how much I have to thank you for. As you know, I used to fear the moon more than anything, especially the full moon. However, thanks to your potion, I was able to overcome most of that fear. Not to mention, because of the potion, I was able to raise Harry. There is so much I have to thank you for, I found myself wanting to share those feelings with you but… If you do not want that necklace, I can always return it. 

Severus slowly raised his head to look at Remus. A sharp scent was coming from him, one that initially took Remus by surprise. He could smell some manner of guilt or anxiety, tightly knotted together with happiness. Severus’ mouth was a thin line, and his eyes were slowly but steadily becoming wet. 

Harry leaned over and grabbed Remus’ new set of tea blends, then stood up. He lightly gave Sirius a tap with his foot, causing the dog to snort and sit up. “We will be making tea in the kitchen.” Harry told the sleepy dog who obediently trailed after him on slightly unsteady legs. 

Unfortunately, there were no doors which could be closed between the kitchen and the living room, but Harry did his best to be very loud and talk loudly to Sirius about what tea they were making. He was essentially doing everything he could to give Remus and Severus some privacy. 

Severus placed the box with the necklace down, then carefully rose to his feet and sat down next to Remus on the sofa. He reached out and laced his arms around Remus’ neck, and Remus responded by hugging him around the waist, pulling him closer as he allowed Severus to lean against him. He couldn’t tell if his partner was crying or not, but he felt Severus tremble in his arms. He responded by holding him tighter and gently stroking over his head. 

Part of him felt like he should say something, but the other insisted that there was no need in a weak voice. He simply allowed his mind to wander as he listened to the sounds of Harry making tea, while studying the fire which steadily danced in the fireplace. 

Still, his thoughts kept on coming back to one thing as he held on to his partner. At first, he tried to push the impulses away, as he knew that Severus couldn’t really read those unless they were fully formulated thoughts. However, Remus slowly came to accept that the thought which he was holding back didn’t need to be held back. Thus, he let it flow freely, shaping itself into a distinct thought, a distinct sentence. 

I love you. 

This time, Severus flinched ever so slightly. Then, he settled back into Remus’ arms, leaning against him with all his weight. This time, Remus was sure that he was crying, even if he was holding his voice back. 

Out in the kitchen, Harry began loudly slamming his way through every cupboard there was, as he loudly announced to Sirius that he had “forgotten where dad keeps the biscuits.” 

Chapter Text

“Hermione, look at this.” Harry announced as he stood up in their small train compartment in which he, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Teddy were seated for the ride to Hogwarts, only Teddy had made his way someplace else for the moment. They all assumed that he would come back before the ride was over, which meant that nobody paid that much attention to the fact that he was currently absent. 

With a look of triumph, Harry slid his hands into the pockets of his brand new skirt, and beamed at his friend with an excited and expectant look on his face. 

Hermione delivered accordingly. She smiled and began applauding. “Magic,” she concluded. 

Harry laughed as he sat down, feeling happy that Hermione had understood that he wasn’t bragging. “I do have a collection of pockets in my robes, so I really don’t know what to put in these, but I will think of something.” Harry concluded. 

“Did you get the skirt from your dad?” Hermione asked, sounding a little unsure but hopeful. Perhaps she needed to hear that mages really didn’t care the same way as Muggles seemed to about what shape one’s lower body garments were. 

“I did, he got me a rather matching cardigan too, but I’m not wearing it right now.” Harry nodded. 

Neville chuckled lightly to himself, then addressed the room. “You know, I have some skirts at home that my Grandmother has gotten for me, but she refuses to let me bring them to Hogwarts, as she says the cleaning there isn’t able to handle the expensive fabric which those skirts are made of. I’m simply not trusted to be able to keep such expensive clothes clean, I suppose?” He ended his comment by laughing. 

Somehow, Harry did not need to struggle to imagine Augusta Longbottom chastising the house-elves laundry abilities in that manner. Then again, it wasn’t hard to imagine the woman being unimpressed by anything. 

“My mother is of the same mind.” Draco nodded. He hesitated for a few moments, glancing around in the cabin, before he spoke again. “On the topic of my mother, she came to ask me how she might bring up the topic of Muggles, should she speak to a mage who is born of Muggles. I believe that she might have reached the conclusion that you might not be born the way that she expected you to have been, Hermione.” 

Hermione slowly bit her lower lip, suddenly appearing very nervous. Everyone in the compartment knew why she was feeling apprehensive about the topic, especially since she had found a surprising friend in Mrs. Malfoy. 

However, Draco continued to speak. As he did, Hermione slowly began to relax back into her seat once more. 

“I could see that she was struggling as she asked me, but it was also very clear to me that she was trying to ask for my advice in an attempt to try and bridge that prejudice which has shaped so much of her life. I should know. I’m so very glad I was able to realise these things at such a young age…” Draco sighed deeply, appearing to be rather stressed as he thought about a lifelong ideal which might have been his creed, had he not learnt better. “In summary, I informed her that she should consider herself a student, one who is studying with a goal in mind, even if that goal might be somewhat diffuse to her for the moment. One who listens to the Professors and lectures, and does not question and reject out of ignorance, but ask questions out of a genuine desire to know more. As such, it will not do to declare herself more knowledgeable or behave rudely towards her teachers, which helped her understand her situation somewhat better, I should think.” 

Ron whistled. “Nice speech.” He wasn’t mocking Draco, but it was clear that he found said speech perhaps a tad too academic for a normal conversation. 

“Thank you, Ronald.” Draco nodded at the other. He wasn’t about to be offended or change his style of speaking simply because one person found it pretentious.  

Ron frowned and then shrugged. “You know what? You calling me by my full name somehow feels completely natural. You keep that going, you.” He nodded before letting out a loud ‘oof’ as Crookshanks, Hermione’s orange cat, landed on his stomach after having rested on top of the luggage shelf above them. “Ow, you little gremlin…” Ron scolded the cat softly as he began to pet him on the head. Harry could hear the purrs all the way across the room. 

“Where was he during Hex-mas?” Draco reached over across the compartment, and after being given permission by the cat, lightly stroked over his head before leaning back to Harry’s side. 

“Hiding out in Ron’s room, mostly.” Neville said. “He got scared by something that the twins did as a prank, and found out that he liked Ron’s bed.” 

“Now he seems to like Ron’s scent as well. I’m so happy that they are getting along.” Hermione beamed at Ron. 

Ron huffed and adjusted slightly so that his new position as cat throne wouldn’t take a harsh toll on his back. “The gremlin has added me to his entourage. I’m forever grateful.” 

Harry and Neville both snorted loudly. 

“Does that make you an honorary gremlin?” Draco asked, the very picture of polite interest. 

“The most honorary of gremlins, thank you very much, you mere mage.” Ron retorted as he pretended to look important. 

This time, Hermione joined Harry and Neville in their laughing. 

School began anew, with almost every teacher reminding the fourth year students that they should begin practicing for their OWL exams next year, and then proceeded to lecture according to their various curriculums. The only one who wasn’t reminding them about those exams was the ever eccentric and unpredictable teacher Mr. Moody.  

As the Slytherin and Gryffindor students entered the Defense against Dark Arts classroom for the first time that very year, they were all met with a blackboard which had things written on it, which was quite unusual for Mr. Moody’s lessons. Upon each desk rested a small wooden box, labelled ‘do not open...yet.’ It was evident that whatever the boxed were for, they were very likely to use it in class. Mr. Moody wasn’t usually prepared, and whenever he handed things out, the lessons tended to get rather messy for up to five minutes. It was highly unusual for the lesson to be this thought out, as it at the very least appeared to be planned from an outside perspective. 

Harry sat down next to Ron and Nott, while Draco, Hermione and Neville sat down in the seat in front of them. Nott and Ron were discussing what the Weasley twins had asked him to make as definite proof that he was reliable enough with construction of objects. Nott was eager to share all his ideas with Ron, and was playing with the idea of constructing two things built in different manners, to display his credentials. Harry hadn’t caught what he was actually making, as the buzzing classroom was making it hard for him to focus on any one thing. 

The classroom wasn’t buzzing for long, as all speech died down once Mr. Moody’s loud peg led announced his approach. He appeared from a side door and came stomping inside, his blue eye spinning in his head in its apparent hurry to take them all in. 

Through gossip, some of their fellow students had heard from older students, and then subsequently spread the story, that Mr. Moody was even more suspicious of them since the start of the new year. Apparently, he may or may not believe that they had all, or in large part, been replaced by Dark Mages through the usage of a Polyjuice elixir.

Said elixir supposedly allowed a person to take the shape of any other person as long as they continuously used something genetic, like hair, blood or saliva, to adjust the concoction in concordance to the person who they wanted to become. Of course, nobody but the man titled ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, and possibly Luna Lovegood, could extend their belief far enough to consider why anyone, especially a Dark Mage, would want to retake school for the sake of trying to kill Mr. Moody. Many students had expressed confusion about why anyone would want to continuously take the elixir at all, as Polyjuice had a reputation for smelling foul and tasting even worse, as well as having harmful effects on the body. 

“Look at the board!” Mr. Moody suddenly barked, without any greeting, introduction or proper change of topic. He pointed his staff to the words written upon it, “what do these words have in common? Think about that, and think fast.” 

Harry, as well as all his classmates, focused on the blackboard. Upon it, Moody had written, in surprisingly clear handwriting: Gringotts Bank, The Ministry of Magic, home security, ritual magic, seals, medical care. 

The students fell silent as they thought about the answer to the question. 

Finally, Nott muttered under his breath, “most of those are places?” He wasn’t especially confident in the guess. 

Mr. Moody ignored his remark, he waved his staff at the board, and a chalk piece floated up and began writing for him. Before the bewildered room of students, the words ‘blood magic’ were spelled out. 

“Now listen up, the lot of you, I know what you are thinking when you hear blood magic. Horrible things, that is what. Sacrifice of entire bodies, horrible control of people’s blood streams, dark and frightening uses and stories of atrocities committed by the evil mages out there.” He jabbed his cane at the windows as he began walking around the room, pacing like he almost always did while lecturing. “So the things you are imagining are true, they have happened somewhere out there in the world, and at some points in history. However, blood magic as it is today is far more common than you have been led to assume. Has anyone here been to Gringotts recently?” 

Lavender Brown, a Gryffindor student with black tightly braided hair which fell over her shoulders in a collection of hard braids, raised her hand. Harry personally didn’t know it, but the type of hairstyle was called havana twists. Lavender Brown's mother, who owned a magical Afro centered hair salon, often did her daughter’s hair in accordance with popular hairstyles in America, with their shared heritage. This meant that Lavender Brown was always known amongst her fellow Gryffindor students as highly aware of modern fashion and trends. 

Still, no fashion or trend had ever impressed Moody, and probably never would. Mr. Moody pointed at the teenager with his staff. “So you went to Gringotts did you? What happened when you got there? Did the goblin use his finger as the unlocking key, or was it with a key you brought with you?” 

“Key.” Brown commented shortly, not daring to say anything more in case that Mr. Moody was in a bad, or worse, mood than usual. 

“And did the goblin use that key?” Mr. Moody asked her. 

“No, mom did, when she deposited the money from her saloon.” Brown continued, becoming braver as Mr. Moody wasn’t yelling at her. 

“And why do you think that is, Brown?” The man was pacing again, walking back to the blackboard. 

“I… I don’t know, sir…” Whatever confidence she had gained, she lost quickly as she reached a point where she couldn’t give any other answer. 

“Well, the reason is right there on the board!” Mr. Moody tapped the board with his staff, accidentally sending some chalk dust falling from it. “Blood magic. Gringotts employs it, The Ministry of Magic has plenty of things locked behind barriers of blood locked doors. Even Hogwarts employs a collection of blood related security measures. It’s far safer than keys, and cannot be lost. Truly, the goblin couldn’t have opened that vault for your mother, Brown, as the key would have rejected it.” 

In front of Harry, he could hear Hermione’s pen scrape against the parchment as she eagerly wrote down what the man was saying. 

“So there are two main ways of going about blood magic in terms of using it as security, which is how it is most often used. Today, we will only be speaking of those two primarily used methods, but I’d be failing you all if I didn’t at least note that there are other ways to use it, and some of them have been pretty terrible. For the actual two ways then: either you lock something with blood as the key, which means that Brown’s mother would have had to drip some blood on the lock for it to open. Or you infuse an object with your blood so that it may only be used by you and those who share your blood. Like Brown’s mother’s key, which has been infused with blood magic, and may therefore only be used by those within the family. Say that Brown here wanted to use that key, that would work fine. Further, any possible siblings of hers, as long as they shared her mother’s blood, could also use the key. However, if Brown’s mother married another person, thus making that person part of their family, that person wouldn’t be able to use the key at all. Gringotts generally employ this type of blood magic which will last for generations to ensure that families have access to their vaults for a long time, but they will from time to time ask to renew the blood contract when too much time has passed and the blood risks running too thin to be recognised by the key or vault, depending on function of the blood magic.”

“However, as a consequence of sorts when it comes to certain families of the Pureblood community,” Mr. Moody spit out the last two words like a curse, or an old tooth which he wanted nothing more than to free himself from as fast as possible. “Certain blood locked items belonging to certain mage families can be used by almost anyone in that family without posing much of a problem. For example; Malfoy’s family might have a key to a Gringotts vault that was commissioned by his great grandparent, and due to the blood magic involved, will only work for their descendants. However, the nature of blood magic means that every family which shares a blood connection with the Malfoys, which is a lot of families, could in theory have access to that vault too. Of course, this might appear like a bad arrangement at first sight, and it might be if somebody wanted to take the money for themselves, they could in theory do that. Remember that there are workers at Gringotts, and a distant relative of Malfoy’s who wants to get their hands on that money would have to go through the workers too. So instead of risking anyone stealing, it's just people within the family, for most part. You should all note that blood magic isn’t invincible, and works best when infused with more defenses than just one.” 

Hermione raised her hand, silently asking for permission to speak. She was given it by a forceful movement of the teacher’s staff, which of course did not touch her. “Is it possible for blood magic to be locked to only one person or is it always applicable to anyone who shares their blood?” 

“Good question there,” Mr. Moody seemed approving, which was even more unusual for him than having prepared his lessons accordingly. “It is technically possible, unless the person has siblings. Blood magic is not generally as complex as to be able to separate blood of siblings, thus, in the case of Weasley here, anything he blood locked, even if he used a more advanced ritual, could also likely be accessed by his siblings because they have roughly the same type of blood. A very advanced mage like Headmaster Dumbledore might be able to perform an advanced enough blood magic ritual that may blood lock something so that it can only be used by himself, but that isn’t usually possible with blood magic alone.” 

Hermione nodded to herself as she kept on writing. 

“The Ministry has plenty of things locked to certain workers, especially when they are the heads of their departments. In peace times, this is generally a good working system, but it has been proven to pose some difficulties in times of war, with some people stealing access through blood. Then again, from the outset, it can be hard to know whose blood goes where. As I said, blood alone isn’t usually a strong enough measure to be solely relied on.” Mr. Moody continued, beginning to pace around in the front of the class once more, his voice accompanied by the thud of his wooden leg and staff. 

“Today’s lesson will be about blood magic, and yes, I am about to teach you how to make a simple ritual which will lock a box to only be opened by one person, using their blood, and therefore touch, as a catalyst. A lot of ritual magic can be tied to be activated by a person through means of their touch. Take note that this is comparatively weak magic unless done in a much more advanced way, and it might be useful to lock away some things from prying eyes, but I would personally never use blood magic alone on any of my boxes that I wanted to keep locked, as there are ways to break these weak blood magic wards. Basically, this is weak stuff, don’t think that your things are safe just because you used this simple magic on it.” Mr. Moody, ever pacing, stopped in front of Hermione, Draco and Neville’s desk, looking them all over. “I’ll need a volunteer to give me some blood for demonstration purposes.” 

None of the three friends appeared to be eager to share some of their blood with Mr. Moody, as they all avoided his eyes. After a moment, it looked like Hermione was about to sacrifice herself for the comfort of her friends, but Mr. Moody had other plans. He clicked his tongue with disapproval, then continued on, stopping in front of Harry, Ron and Nott’s desk. 

“I supposed that it isn’t fair to have the same desk be the only one participating,” Mr. Moody announced loudly. “Someone here, open the box, drop some blood into the vial in there and give it here.” He nodded towards the box, looking at it with his normal eye while the blue looked them all over in turn. 

Harry looked over towards his friends. Ron appeared very pale, he was unable to even look towards the box which supposedly had the tools with which to perform blood magic. Harry noticed that Ron was nervously playing with the scars on his fingertips. His hands were shaking. As for Nott, Harry knew, because Nott had told him, that he was once again on his period, and was thus suffering from some measure of blood loss already. Harry wasn’t entirely sure of how badly that affected the other teenager’s body, but it felt safe to think that Nott shouldn’t need to lose any more blood that day. He could be entirely wrong in his assumption, but it didn't very well matter right then since he could also be right. Thus, Harry found himself the volunteer. 

“I will do it.” Harry reached for the box and pulled it open. 

Mr. Moody seemed oddly satisfied about this arrangement, even letting out a small laugh before clearing his throat and nodded. “Good, good. Good of you, Lupin.” 

Harry found the tools as instructed, he went about the act quickly and was soon able to hand the small vial to Mr. Moody. Harry felt a little lightheaded as he looked upon his own blood in the vial, but he tried not to think about it too hard. It had only been a few drops of blood after all.

Mr. Moody accepted the vial and scurried back to the front of the classroom. As he walked, but before he had turned around, the man suddenly barked out “drop that lid, Thomas, you’re not to do anything until my demonstration is over. Lupin, put a plaster on your finger, you won’t be needing to give any more.”

A lot of faces turned to look at either Harry or the Gryffindor student, who both quickly went about the instructions given to them. While the class focused on the students, the teacher hobbled around the desk to stand behind it. Harry noted to himself that he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Mr. Moody behind the desk before. That feeling of discomfort washed over Harry once more, as he felt that the place behind the desk belonged to his dad, and not this half-mad almost teacher. Harry swallowed his emotional thoughts back and focused on the lecture. 

“Now, I’m drawing the ritual over here, I will hold it up for you to see but you have all the instructions in those boxes.” Mr. Moody placed the vial of Harry’s blood down behind some books upon his cluttered desk and went about drawing something upon a big piece of parchment which had also been hidden from view. “Nobody touches the boxes until I say so.” He huffed out without looking up from the drawing with his normal eye. 

Finally, he straightened himself and showed the drawing to the students, who all collectively concluded that it was a comparatively simple drawing of a ritual circle. They had to draw more complex patterns and use more complex rituals in Transfiguration, and some of the students had learnt more complex runes in Ancient Runes. 

“Sir?” Blaise raised his hand and was given the word with a huff and a point from Mr. Moody. “Can this ritual magic be used in combination with other ritual magic?” 

“It can. Blood magic can in general be combined with other rituals to trigger them by touch. It would in theory not be all that hard, simply adding a ritual upon another.” He illustrated this idea by putting one of his hands on top of the other, creating a layering effect. “However, it’s not that easy to do in practice, as it generally creates very unstable and fickle magic as a result of simple rituals like this. There are other, more stable ways to use magic, even blood magic, than clobbering two rituals together. Then again, a lot of things have always been made by people clobbering things together.” He grunted to himself, shaking his head to realign himself back to his topic. 

“Now, I will place the object I wish to cast the ritual upon in the middle of the circle, careful not to smudge the lines.” The students couldn’t actually see their teacher do these things upon his desk, since he had accidentally walled it off by means of books and other objects which few students could actually name. However, they could all see that the man was doing something, which they could only assume reflected what he was saying that he did. 

“Then, I will use some of Lupin’s blood, dripping it on the lid.” Mr. Moody brought up the vial of Harry’s blood. Using a thin pipette to gather some of the blood. Harry felt a little embarrassed over the fact that he had given the man more blood than necessary, as only one drop appeared to be enough, however, nobody made any comments about it. 

“Finally, I activate the magic as you all know how to do.” Mr. Moody closed the vial and put it aside, turning to focus on the ritual before him. “All the instructions are in the boxes before you, I’m hurrying this up a little bit.” A soft, blue light came from the other side of the teacher’s wall, accompanied by the scent of slightly scorched parchment. Mr. Moody appeared satisfied as he picked up a lidded box which they had only briefly seen when he placed it in the ritual circle. 

Without hesitation, Mr. Moody threw the box at Draco, who reacted with a Seeker’s reflexes, catching the small wooden box before he even comprehended what had happened. Draco looked down at the box with a small frown, not entirely sure why it had been thrown at him, or if Mr. Moody had known that he could, and would, catch the flying object. Draco turned around to pass the box to Harry, but the teacher stopped him. 

“Try to open the box, Malfoy. It isn’t locked.” 

Draco focused on the box again with some hesitation, but then tried to open it as instructed. He got his nails into the crack between the box and the lid, but when he pulled, nothing budged. Draco tried a little harder, then turned the box upside down to see if the lid would fall open. Still, nothing happened, the lid remained shut. 

“Now you may hand it to Lupin.” Mr. Moody encouraged. He had walked back around the desk and was standing in front of it, resting heavily upon his staff. The man looked amused, or whatever passed for amused with a face as heavily scarred, and therefore unable to move into certain expressions which other faces could easily mold into, as Mr. Moody’s. 

Harry was handed the box, and with some apprehension, tried to open it. It clicked open easily, without him having to use any force. Harry blinked at the box, feeling a lot of gazes rest on the object in his hands. He closed the box, then turned it upside down, wanting to know if it would fall open. To his, and many others' surprise, it did. Despite himself, Harry felt excited to know that there was a box which only he could open. He told himself it was silly, but nonetheless, it was exciting. 

“Now,” Mr. Moody announced, “you may open those boxes. Be careful with the objects inside.” 

The class busied themselves with the assignment for the rest of the lesson. In front of Harry, Teddy and Ron, Hermione got started with the assignment with excitement and eagerness. Harry caught Draco saying that he wasn’t interested in having his blood used for something like this, as his extended family likely wouldn’t approve of him carelessly using blood in this manner. Harry read between the lines and concluded that Draco might be rejecting the idea of using his blood because he was worried about the consequences of using blood magic on an object which could likely be opened by most of his family and relatives either way. Neville didn’t particularly like the idea of using his blood at all, so it fell on the determined Hermione to use her blood for the assignment. She seemingly didn’t mind at all when she was doing it on her own terms. 

Harry’s blood was returned from Mr. Moody, and his table set about trying to cast the ritual as well. They, among many other tables, were struggling with getting the ritual to work, and by the end, they hadn’t managed at all. Harry still had a box which only he could open, but it still made him feel a little bothered to think that they hadn’t been able to cast such a comparatively simple ritual despite their best efforts. Then again, Ron was terrified of blood magic, especially ritual blood magic, and Teddy was in a lot of pain, and therefore distracted. Maybe it wasn't that surprising that they didn’t manage to perform the ritual with those conditions to struggle through. 

Chapter Text

The crisp January morning was freezing. The world outside of Hogwarts had turned completely white with last night’s snowfall, creating a winter wonderland of amazing sculptures of ice where the cold wind had blown water out of place and then frozen it in mid flight. Harry couldn’t help but be amazed at all the beauty around him as he walked next to Blaise down a frozen path, surrounded by white trees with beautiful yet sharp icicles hanging from their branches. It was so beautiful that it almost made him forget the fact that this winter wonderland was so cold that Harry worried about his breath freezing as he breathed out. 

Every now and then, Harry glanced at Blaise, who was walking silently next to him with his nose hidden in his scarf and his hands in his pockets. It felt strange to walk next to Blaise like this, mostly because it didn’t feel all that strange. They were no longer close, neither were they really friends, but there was a calmness to spending time with the other Slytherin student that Harry appreciated even now. Mostly because he knew that Blaise was a calm person, who wasn’t likely to want to be involved in any kind of drama, which meant that any time spent with Blaise would only be time spent with him. 

Harry hadn’t expected Blaise to approach him about anything, so when his former friend and current acquaintance approached him in the entrance hall when he was about to go walking with Hermione and Victor, and asked if he could have some of Harry’s time, Harry hadn’t hesitated to say that he could. Thus, he was now walking around with Blaise, who seemed to have something on his mind but wasn’t quite ready to speak up yet. 

Finally, Blaise pulled his scarf down and began to talk. At first, he spoke slowly, almost hesitant, as a pained expression threatened to twist his handsome features into a look which was alien to see on him. “I hope I’m not being rude, as I am well aware that we are not as close as we once were, but I don’t quite know who else I could possibly talk to about this… Would it be alright with you if I confided in you, Harry?” 

Harry wasn’t sure about what he had expected Blaise to say, but he hadn’t expected this. It was a little sad to think that he was the most reliable person that Blaise knew, since he really didn’t consider Blaise a friend anymore, and doubted that Blaise considered him one. However, Harry had once said that the people they might become in the future might be able to be friends, even if they had grown apart. This seemed to be that future. Still, Harry didn’t feel the need to be someone’s friend to want to help them. Not to mention that Blaise had only asked Harry to listen to him. Thus, keeping his ideas about friendship in the back of his mind, Harry spoke up “I don’t mind in the least. I don’t know if I can help or not, but if I can, I don’t think I’d mind trying.” 

Blaise gave him a weak smile. “I’m not asking you to do anything, I just need to declutter my mind, and I figured talking to you might help.” 

Harry shrugged before returning the smile. “I will listen. What do you need to talk about?” 

Blaise took a deep breath, steadying himself. “About myself, I suppose.” He began after some additional hesitation. “I… I think that I’ve realised something that I should have known all along. Ever since the beginning of this year, I have felt… something for Neville Longbottom.” Blaise struggled to speak the words, they were slowly being forced out of his mouth, pushing past his lips and out into the cold air where Harry almost imagined that he could see them linger alongside the smoke from Blaise’s breath. 

“Only I didn’t.” Blaise spoke sharply, as if he was angry with himself. “I didn’t actually feel anything for him, but I found him somewhat appealing, and I thought to myself that it was that, and that I had finally fallen in love with someone, as all people do. Only I hadn’t. And I’ve realised the very obvious thing that not everyone falls in love. Not everyone wants to fall in love, or need to fall in love.” Talking was becoming easier and easier for Blaise, to the point where the words almost flew from his lips as he simply let all his frustration free. 

“All this time, I’ve thought that I would fall for someone, and that the experience of feeling, or falling in love, would make me see what mother is so very desperate to find in all those men that she falls for. I’ve always heard that I would grow up to be a heartbreaker, and that everyone would crowd around me, as if those were good things, as if I should be proud over such things. The truth that Neville helped me realise was that I don’t appear to be feeling those normal things.” He waved the word ‘normal’ away so that Harry would understand that the word normal didn’t mean ‘normal,’ but what was expected.

“During the Yule Ball, I felt like I was following a script. I brought Neville there, we danced, and at the end of the ball, I gave him a kiss with his permission. I felt nothing kissing him, except for a feeling of tiredness. I did everything right, Neville should have loved it, but I think he could feel that I wasn’t actually genuine. He thanked me for the evening, and then left for the Gryffindor common room, and I… I realised that all my life has been locked around the idea of relationships and love and the like, and it’s been making me so very tired since I was twelve. Maybe even longer.”

“You don’t want intimate relationships then?” Harry hesitantly spoke up, hoping that he wasn’t rude in asking. 

“Exactly. I don’t want them, and I don’t feel like I need them.” Blaise nodded, his expression turning into a relieved smile. “I know it isn’t what is expected of me, and people will treat it as something tragic, because that is all they know. I know that Teddy would be upset for one, but I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m sick and tired of it. I don’t feel attraction, and probably not even desire, for other people, and I’ve finally realised it.” Blaise finally said what he had wanted to say, a feeling of triumph and relief passed over his face as he uttered the words out loud. 

Harry smiled at his acquaintance, his happiness and confidence was somewhat intoxicating. “I’m happy that you’ve realised that and feel comfortable with it.” 

Blaise blinked, then slowly smiled at Harry. “The fact that you didn’t start questioning me or tell me that I am wrong means a lot to me. Thank you, Harry.” 

“If I ever think myself more knowledgeable than you in regards to your own feelings, you may call me out on my pretentious madness.” Harry laughed and shook his head. “You’ve been completely disinterested in relationships for as long as I’ve known you. I am not very surprised to learn how you feel.” Harry smiled at the person in front of him, who might just still be a possible future friend of his. “And if, that is quite the big if, that would change somewhere in the future, that really isn’t something that anyone should decide about you. That is between you and yourself, nobody else.” 

Blaise looked at Harry with such a thankful look that Harry couldn’t actually meet his gaze without blushing. “It’s very refreshing to speak with you again, Harry. I guess I’ve missed some rationality in my life.” 

“Oh, I’m not very rational.” Harry laughed. “I’m very much a fool in love for the moment. Not your ideal type of companion.” 

Blaise laughed in return. “How very repulsive.” He said the words without any real distaste or hostility, he simply played along with Harry’s joke. 

Still, Harry got reminded of the Muggle prejudice against people like Hermione and Teddy, which he had learnt about earlier that year. He got reminded of the madness of people thinking that they could condemn others, or proclaim their existence invalid, because they couldn’t personally relate to the experiences. It was true that such a thing as condemning people for their gender generally was not a part of their culture as mages, however, when Harry thought about it, how would it be any different to demand that all people fell in love because most people did? People differed in so many manners from one another, and the idea of finding some more valid than others didn’t sit very well with Harry. Blaise’s reaction of relief when he wasn’t questioned made Harry realise that maybe it wasn’t Muggles who were all misinformed, but that it was a bad behaviour a lot of people were guilty of in a lot of different ways and scenarios. To himself, it sounded impossible to never feel romantic attraction and love for somebody, but that didn’t mean that another person should have to suffer and be made invisible, or even questioned for their decisions with their own body and feelings. 

They reached the end of the path which they had followed, and came to overlook the lake which had been covered in ice. Along the beach, Harry could see a lot of people, amongst them, he recognised Draco, Ron and Neville jogging together, while Hermione walked alongside a person who could only be Victor. Harry smiled and waved, prompting Hermione to wave back, having spotted him and Blaise among the trees. 

“You want to walk some more with us?” Harry asked Blaise. 

“I’m fine, thanks. I need something warm to still my nerves.” Blaise smiled at him. He then hesitated but reached out and hugged Harry. 

It wasn’t a long hug, or a tight one, but the hug made Harry feel very warm. He reached out and returned the hug, but made sure to not hug the other tight, as he knew it wasn’t what Blaise wanted. 

“Always a hugger, aren’t you?” Blaise separated from Harry and patted his shoulder. 

“I am, but I have plenty of people to hug, including my boyfriend, so you really don’t have to push yourself for my sake.” Harry smiled at the other, absently noting that Hermione was approaching him and Blaise. Victor had seemingly not finished his training session yet. 

“Once is enough.” Blaise began walking back to the castle as Hermione fought her way up the iced path to Harry. “Take care.” 

“You too.” Harry waved after him, then turned to help Hermione brave the hill. 

His attempt at doing so had them both slide down said hill and end up in a pile of limbs. Hermione detangled herself from Harry and laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Are you alright?” She said between fits of giggles.

Harry beamed at her, he had been lucky enough to not hurt himself during their ice slide. “Let’s do that again.” 

Hermione slowly got to her feet. “I’ll race you down from the hill.” Her eyes gleamed as she carefully began making her way up the hill again. 

Harry followed her, equally carefully. 

Thus it came to be that when Draco, Neville and Ron found Harry and Hermione, the two of them were slightly wet and covered in snow after having played with the natural ice slide for half an hour. However, despite their snowy clothes, the pair was very amused by their newfound playground. The two groups made their way back to Hogwarts after the second had tried out the ice slide for themselves at least once. Everyone agreed that a cup of something warm was just what they needed after such a cold tour outside. Ron announced that he was going to bring Teddy to the natural slides later, as he would definitely like them. 

After eating lunch and after the people who had worked out had showered, the group of friends assembled in the Room of Requirements, which they had taken to use as their personal common and study room. After all, it was a lot easier to simply gather in this room than to find a study room big enough to host all of them, especially since they didn’t always know how many they were going to be on any given day. 

Currently, the Room of Requirements was host to Harry, Draco, Hermione and Neville, who all had brought a book along with them. Harry was reading The Count of Monte Cristo still, while Hermione was reading her Hex-mas present from Narcissa. Draco was reading the Muggle history book that he had gotten from Harry, and Neville was reading about his favorite topic, Herbology. Over the years, Neville’s friends had seen him read many different books on the subject, and he was now far into advanced studies of plants which would never likely appear on the Hogwarts curriculum. 

The Room looked the same as it had when Hermione had talked to the group about her worries, meaning that a fire was warming two sofas up, which stood placed around a table. Harry was comfortably stretched out over Draco, his shoeless feet resting on his boyfriend’s lap on one of the sofas, while Hermione and Neville shared the other sofa. Hermione’s lion pillow had remained in the room, she almost disappeared behind it as she insisted on keeping it in her lap while reading. Nonetheless, what little Harry could see of her looked content. 

For a while, everything was silent in the room, with the exception of the noises from the fire, and the sound of pages turning. Then, Harry suddenly realised something, and even more suddenly sat up. “I forgot to check on Agrippa!” He exclaimed as he rolled off his boyfriend and began pulling his shoes on. 

“Agrippa…?” Neville blinked at Harry, not certain of what he was talking about. 

“Dad’s owl.” Harry responded from down under the table where he was fighting with the laces on his winter boots. “He asked me to have the owl house attendant check on him. Agrippa is getting a little old, and dad is worried about him getting too old to fly all the way to Hogwarts from home. I was told to come by today, I had completely forgotten!” He stood up. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Would you like me to come with you?” Draco was already half standing up, one of his hands reaching for his own boots, which were a lot more elegant than Harry’s. 

“Thank you. I will be fine.” Harry smiled at his boyfriend, but ultimately shook his head. “I will be right back, if you leave, bring my book.” 

“Be careful of those steps up to the Owlery. They are slippery this time of year.” Neville warned as Harry peeked outside to deem if the coast was clear. 

“I will.” He waited until a group had passed, and then sneaked out after waving back once more. 

Harry had hoped that he would encounter the Owl attendant at the bottom of the tower, but there was nobody in the office. Thus Harry began climbing the outside steps to the Owlery, holding on to the railing for dear life as he began the slow, careful climb up to the top of the tower where the owls, and hopefully the attendant, were located. It took quite some time for Harry to climb the ice covered staircase. He slipped a few times, but never once fell, much to his own relief. Well at the top he felt the smell of the birds before he saw any of them. In the still day, the stench was almost overwhelming, and Harry had to stop to not gag from the scent. He remained outside of the Owlery until he finally got used to the scent to such a degree that he could venture inside. 

However, as he gathered himself enough to enter, someone appeared from within. In the hopes that this was the Owl attendant, Harry quickly spoke up, “excuse me?” 

“Yes?” The person who turned towards him was in fact not an unfamiliar face of a Hogwarts employee, but Delacour, current leading Trimagus champion. Harry recognised their face through the small window between their warm hat, earmuffs and raised scarf. Delacour recognised Harry as well, judging by the way their face lit up. “Bébé!” They smiled but then realised that they might have overstepped a boundary. “I mean…” The champion stopped to think, trying to remember Harry’s name. 

“Lupin.” Harry filled in with a smile. It felt surprisingly good to simply be forgotten, even if he wasn’t too flattered by the nickname he had been given. Still, it was clear that the other didn’t mean any harm with their nickname, so Harry found it hard to feel all that bothered by it. 

“Ah, yes, son of the werewolf. Le Loup-garou, Le loup, Lupin.” Delacour muttered under their breath, creating a little string of words with which to remember Harry by. They didn’t quite pronounce Lupin the same way Harry did, but he found it hard to mind yet again. “What can I help you with, Lupin?” 

“Oh, ah…” Harry staggered, “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. I came to ask the Owl attendant about our, ah, me and dad’s, that is, owl Agrippa and…”

“Agrippa?” Delacour’s face lit up suddenly and they turned to Harry with renewed excitement. “You’ve named your owl Agrippa?” 

“No, not me,” Harry began, finding himself worried that Delacour was going to slip and fall down the stairs since they were turning so quickly and without any awareness of the slippery steps below them. “Dad named him. I think Agrippa is older than me at this point…” He added, as an afterthought to himself. 

“Is he named after Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa?”

Harry blinked. “Who?”

Delacour didn’t seem offended by his ignorance, and rather smiled knowingly, as if they knew they were going to share some very interesting news or knowledge.

“Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, the German mage from the late 15th century… that’s how you count it right? 1480’s something…? It makes no sense to count backwards like that.” They let out a soft laugh at their very last words.

Harry nodded, in a manner he hoped was communicated as understanding, rather than him completely agreeing with their words. 

“He is famous for interacting with non-mages and being a scholar among them,” Delacour began. “He wrote of magic and science, but a lot about that religion Christianity, trying to better the world and have the religion harm people less. I do not know if they teach you this at Hogwarts, but Christianity has historically been uh… intolerant? Yes, intolerant of other religions, other people, and is also a large reason why non-magic women have suffered and been treated as less than non-magic men. It was the main reason for the witch trials which took the lives of a large number of non-magic women and men deemed mages. He wrote Declamatio de Nobilitate et Praecellentia Foeminei Sexus, which is.. uh English, English, ah yes, proclaiming women superior to men in a religious and moral manner.”

“Superior?” Harry sounded rather confounded. “How does it help people to claim that some are better than others?” Nonetheless, he found himself very intrigued by the subject despite the cold biting at his cheeks. At least Delacour had a proper hat to keep them warm, Harry didn’t.

Delacour huffed, but didn’t seem anything but amused. “Ah, but you need to see history to understand. Non-mages back then did not believe that people were the same or worth the same, all their science pointed to women being less than men, and something different from men, usually belonging to men. In a time like that, saying that women were superior in some ways would be better understood than claiming that women and men were the same. It was at the height of many of the witch trials, and Agrippa has been recorded acting as a defense for non-magic women accused to be witches, and saving at least some of them from being burnt alive. He’s a hero. Sadly he was often removed from the non-mage communities, and gained many enemies for his work, but we read about him in school to remember the importance of interacting with and being part of the world we live in.”

Harry had learnt a little bit of these things in Muggle Studies, but to hear them from a borderline adult who knew so much more made him realise that he still had a lot left to learn about history and Muggles. It made sense to look at history and try to understand how society behaved and thought at the time. Harry decided that he would make an effort to look at what he learn in Muggle Studies through this focus of trying to understand why the people back then had thought and acted in certain manners, as that would ideally help him understand the time and the people, and not just actions performed in a vacuum incomparable and independent of the time they were performed in. 

After giving it some thought, he smiled at the older student, “It sounds like somebody dad would name his owl after, but I don’t know if he knew all this or simply liked the name. I can ask if you want?” 

Delacour smiled, “you do not have to make an effort, but it would be fun to know if you are already writing to your dad.”

Harry nodded, “I was going to write to him.” Then he thought for a moment, suddenly having realised something, so he looked up at the foreign student again. “Uh, if I may ask, does that mean that you’re taught Mug-.. non-mage history at Beauxbatons? That all students are taught it? At Hogwarts it’s not mandatory.” It felt a little better to explain why he was asking, as to not confuse the foreign student, and to give them something to compare to.

Delacour stared at him for a moment, so very intensely that Harry almost started feeling ashamed of his question.

“You… do not learn history at Hogwarts?” They seemed positively bewildered, quite possibly even shocked.

Harry hurried to make sure that he wasn’t misunderstood. “We do learn mage history, but Muggle Studies is an optional subject which I picked.” 

“Mage history… Muggle history… what history?” Delacour raised their voice ever so slightly. It was clearly due to being passionate rather than aggressive in any manner, but their change of voice made Harry wonder if he had said something wrong. “There is no mage history! There is only history! We all live in the same world, how are you supposed to understand the world if you don’t learn about it? Your uh, Muggles, the non-magic people make up most of history, how are you supposed to understand why mages did or thought anything if you do not know the world they lived in?”

Suddenly something clicked within Harry’s mind. How could they understand their past ancestors and mages when nobody taught them about the world those people lived in? It clearly hadn’t worked, as could be easily proven by looking to Salazar Slytherin and mages’ ideas of pure blood and superiority. If people had actually been taught how things had been back in Slytherin’s days, maybe their community would have been entirely different. Maybe it was partly letting the British community remain ignorant which caused all of the misunderstandings in the first place. 

He stared back at Delacour for a few moments and then shook his head. “You’re right, it makes no sense.” Harry could admit that to the foreigner without problems. He wasn’t at fault for, or in any way guilty of, how other people in the British mage community had made the school curriculums, or acted in the past, and he was not in a place in his life where he had any power to change it. There was nothing for him personally to feel guilty for, and he would much rather accept the truth so that he would not fall into the same rabbit holes of ignorance as some fellow mages had and still did.

“Thank you for telling me these things. It’s been really interesting but it’s getting a little cold out here so maybe we can continue this discussion, I mean, uh, if you want to, later?” Harry was starting to realise that his cheeks were hurting slightly from the cold, and he was trembling so much that his feet were threatening to slip on the ice under his feet. 

“Oh yes. Your face! You must be cold.” Delacour quickly stepped aside so that Harry could pass them more safely. 

He nodded thankfully to them and began making his way into the Owlery, but before he managed to enter all the way, Delacour spoke up once more, causing Harry to carefully turn and face them. 

“The champions are gathering to speak of the clue in the golden eggs. We’re having a… how to… study class together, the three of us. You aren’t an champion, but you are allowed if you’d want to join us.” Delacour stumbled through their sentence, but Harry understood well what was asked of him. 

“Oh!” He felt his cheeks heat with appreciation this time, and perhaps a bit of flattery. “Thank you, but I really don’t think that I would be able to help the three of you with that. As you say, I’m not a champion, and I really don’t have a lot of knowledge about eggs.” 

“Ah. A champion. Not an.” Delacour mumbled to themselves. “Very well. Good day to you. Watch out for a step inside the door.” They turned to leave but this time, Harry stopped them. 

“I’m sorry but, uh… is it really acceptable for the three of you to work together? I thought that the idea was for the champions to use their own abilities to figure the clue out.” He hoped he wasn’t rude in asking, but he couldn’t help but imagine Mr. Bagman’s upset face if he learned that the Trimagus champions weren’t following the rules.  

Delacour huffed and shook their head. “That is stupid.” They exclaimed with absolute confidence. “They want us to compete with magic, but they will not tell us what the task is up front so that we may prepare with magic? Instead, we get a stupid egg that screams, and are expected to use magic on it until something works? Even at the risk of damaging or destroying our one clue? This isn’t a fair challenge, is it a stupid thing! Thus, we all decided to work together so that nobody is left behind, and everyone can compete to the best of their ability in the actual trial. Really, this setup that they make really does beg for teamwork, and we decided that it was the most fair. Nobody would want to show up at the trial and be unable to compete because the arranging people wouldn’t tell us what to prepare for.” 

When they put it that way, Harry really had no objections to their logic. He smiled at the exchange student, even if it caused his already throbbing cheeks to hurt. “You are right. All of you. Would you please say hi to the group from me the next time you study together?” 

“Of course,” Delacour smiled back. “Now go inside before you freeze on the step.” 

Harry didn’t need to be urged any more than that, he happily entered the Owlery to escape from the cold. Despite the smell, it was better than the cold outside. 

After speaking with Delacour for a little longer than planned, Harry made his way inside the Owlery, spoke to the Owl attendant about Agrippa, and then made it back to the Room of Requirements where his friends were waiting for him to return. 

At first, Harry couldn’t speak since his teeth were clattering too much from the cold, meaning that he was promptly relocated to in front of the fire by his worried friends. A blanket materialised for him, which Harry was more than thankful to be wrapped in. A few seconds later, a steaming hot cup of cocoa appeared on the table.

Meanwhile, in the warmth of the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher’s private room, Mr. Moody tuned back to find his newly made and untouched cup of cocoa missing. The man spent the rest of the weekend frantically searching for the person or entity who had broken in and stolen his favorite cup and his cocoa, but found nothing to his great distress. He handled the situation by redoing all of the defensive wards he had put up, and changed every lock on everything that he could remember had a lock. 

Harry unknowingly sipped the cocoa from Mr. Moody’s favorite cup, without even considering where it had come from. The cup would later appear in the kitchen and be added to the arsenal of cups that the Hogwarts kitchen somehow ended up storing, never to be seen again by Mr. Moody. Harry’s only comment on the cocoa was that it was oddly sweet and rather overpowering to the point where it was rather hard to drink it. 

Ron and Teddy had returned from playing outside in the snow while Harry was over by the Owlery. The two of them were playing a card game which Harry didn’t know the rules of, but they appeared to be having fun. 

Draco had come to sit as close to Harry as he could while still remaining on the sofa. When Harry felt warm enough to remove himself from the warmest place by the fire, he scooted over to his boyfriend and rested his head against his knees. Harry was thankful that the floor was covered in a thick carpet which kept the warmth rather nicely, meaning that he could remain on the floor without freezing. 

Neville was the one to bring up the subject of Agrippa, carefully doing so in a way which was evidently constructed so as to not cause Harry distress in case the owl was sick or worse. 

Harry nodded from side to side, frowning slightly. “He isn’t so much sick as he really is just old. The attendant told me that when I sent him back to dad, I should make sure to tell dad that Agrippa should be retired, and that he should look into buying a new owl.” He pulled himself up to take a seat next to Draco, handing the cup of cocoa to Ron, who now sat next to him and who had been eyeing it with a bit of longing in his eyes. 

“Thanks.” Ron accepted the cup and drank. He then made a bit of a face at the sweetness of it, but continued drinking nonetheless. 

“But more than Agrippa, I met Delacour at the Owlery and we talked for quite some time. You really would love to chat with them, Draco, they have a lot of interesting things to say about how different their curriculum is at Beauxbatons.” Harry looked up at his boyfriend, giving him a happy smile. It still stung his cheeks slightly, even if he was mostly warmed up by now. He really should have brought a warm hat while going outside, rather than thinking that he would be alright without it. 

“Will you introduce us?” Draco put an arm around Harry and pulled him close, allowing his frozen boyfriend to be heated up by his own body warmth as well as the blanket around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Absolutely.” Harry nodded. “They invited me to join their champion study group with Victor and Diggory, but I really don’t think there is anything I could contribute with since, you know, they are eighteen and I’m fourteen. Anything I know, Diggory probably knows too.” He felt a little insecure when he said it out loud, even if it had been obvious to his own mind. 

“Unless it’s about werewolves,” Neville gently encouraged Harry, smiling at him in that friendly manner which made Harry feel thankful that Neville was a friend of his. 

“Or vampires.” Hermione filled in with a happy disposition. 

“Or classical Muggle literature of the gothic genre.” Draco leaned over to kiss Harry on the head, much to Harry’s happiness. 

“Of course, the clue about the next trial can only be solved by the means of combining Harry’s knowledge about werewolves, vampires and gothic literature.” Teddy chuckled. “The real secret is to whack the golden egg with a first edition copy of Dracula.” 

The group of friends all began to laugh at the absolute absurd image of the three champions hitting their golden eggs with books. 

When they finally gathered themselves, Hermione spoke up. 

“Speaking of the champions…” She began, but she was interrupted by Teddy. 

“You mean speaking of Dracula.” 

Hermione began giggling once more, and had to fight to regain her composure. Her laugh was infectious, and soon everyone was giggling, snorting or chuckling once again. 

“Speaking of Dracula,” Hermione tried again, “Victor offered to teach me some of the Dark Arts they learn at Durmstrang. I was rather hesitant to accept, but after Mr. Moody’s lesson about blood magic, I think that I would like to learn more about Dark Arts, so I am going to accept his offer.” 

Ron frowned, looking uncertain if he really thought that was a good idea. “But, uh… why would you want to learn Dark Arts? It will only freak people out, how could that be something that you’d want?” 

“Well, as Victor put it,” Hermione responded, clearly having rehearsed this conversation in her head. “How can you heal a wound if you have never seen a real wound? You can learn from looking at pictures, sure, but that doesn’t mean that a true wound will look the way the books teach you that it will. It’s not that I want to cast any forbidden curses or the like, but I want to understand this type of magic, so that I’m better equipped to recognise it and defend myself from it.” 

“That does make sense…” Ron nodded, appearing to be thinking hard before answering. 

“Victor said that he doesn’t mind teaching you as well.” Hermione looked between her friends. Harry could tell that she was relieved to not have had them argue with her about her choice. “If you’d want to.” 

“It would be political suicide of me to engage with Dark Arts, even through someone as reliable as Victor Krum.” Draco shook his head. “As a former pureblood fanatic, I do not need the label of Dark Arts practitioner added to my supposed list of crimes.” They all knew him to be speaking about the accusations towards his family in regards to being Death Eaters. 

Harry nodded in agreement. While he did find the prospect of leaning more about Dark Arts appealing, just as he found leaning about werewolves and vampires appealing, it truly wasn’t something he could afford to do. Even without the world seeing him as Harry Potter, he was still a Parselmouth, as well as the son of a werewolf. If it was somehow leaked to the rest of the school that Harry was dabbling in Dark Arts, that would no doubt lead to another situation like the one with the Heir of Slytherin. “I must decline also.” Harry gave his friend an excusing smile, which Hermione returned without blame. 

“Yeah, with my dad being a Death Eater, I’m not about to add more accusations about myself to that.” Teddy shook his head so hard that he sent his hair flying around himself. 

Ron was yet again playing with the scars on his fingertips, his face appeared so pale that the freckles upon it appeared like stars in a negative photo of the night sky. “I really, really don’t want to dabble in that. I had more than enough from Moody’s crazy blood lesson to last me for at least ten years.” 

“I have my extra classes with Professor Dumbledore about internal magic.” Neville spoke last. “You know I’m not a good student, I don’t think I can keep up with more than I already have.” He turned to look towards the clock which hung next to the coat hanger by the door. “Speaking of, I should head over to his office about now. Lessons have been sparser this year than the last, so I don’t want to waste any of the time I’m getting.” He rose to his feet and began gathering his things, which were his book and his shoes. 

The group of friends waved goodbye to Neville as he peeked out and then exited the room. Hermione turned back to her friends. “You, uhm… won’t think less of me because I study some Dark Arts together with Victor?”

The room was in a hurry to object to the idea that they would dislike their friend for her choice of studies, since they all understood that Hermione wasn’t interested in these things because she wanted to use the magic to become a Death Eater. 

Once Hermione heard their objections, she smiled and settled back down with her giant lion pillow in her lap. “Thank you for being so understanding.” Her voice reached them from behind the lion. 

Harry smiled at the lion before shuddering and curling up to Draco. This time, a cup of lavender tea appeared before him, sweetened perfectly with honey. Thus, Professor McGonagall lost her favorite cup and her afternoon cup of tea through mysterious circumstances. It would later appear in her office the same day, but without the tea, much to her own confusion. 

However, drinking Professor McGonagall’s perfectly brewed tea did not save Harry from getting a cold due to his foolish and ill equipped exploration of the Owlery. Much to his own annoyance, he became bedridden for two days afterwards, and had to stay in Crabbe’s old bed so as to not make Draco sick as well. While it wasn’t fun to be bedridden with a cold, it gave Harry plenty of time to read The Count of Monte Cristo, while being very thankful for the fact that Dobby was more than happy to make sure that Harry got plenty of food and warm drinks, which had not been stolen from unsuspecting teachers from their offices. 

Chapter Text

February arrived, and the weather showed little signs of improving much. It was still cold enough out that the trees were covered by frost in the mornings, but the lake was no longer frozen over, which gave some people hope that spring might come early this year. Harry and his friends were also paying special attention to the lake for the moment, but not because they cared about the ice melting. They were all rather more concerned about the fact that the second trial would be held in that lake. Not on it, or around it, but in it.

Victor had found Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Teddy in a crammed study room close to the library, where they were working through an assignment given to them by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration. He had knocked on the door and invited himself inside, bringing some fresh air with him into the space which smelled like teenage spaces tend to smell. 

“You should open the window.” He closed the door behind him.

Victor’s comment caused Neville to get up and open the window in the room. In doing so, he accidentally made some snow to whirl inside from the windowsill. Draco, who was worried about his boyfriend who was recently sick, demanded the window to be closed again. Nobody objected, not even Victor, who found that the cold had been a little too cold for study comfort. 

“We figured out the clue,” the Trimagus champion addressed Harry with his usual emotionless expression. “Fleur discovered how to handle the egg, and we’ve concluded that the second trial will be held in the Hogwarts lake.” 

Everyone gaped at the exchange student, wondering if perhaps the other had messed up his English. 

“The… lake?” Harry repeated slowly, trying very hard to not allow himself to give in to the familiar thugs of fear that the lake caused within him. Harry really, truly, did not enjoy large pools of water, and definitely not the Hogwarts lake which had more than the average share of mysteries and monsters within it. It was no use, he could already feel some sweat running down his back at the thought of the lake. 

“That lake?” Teddy pointed out the window towards the lake which they couldn’t actually see from the room's location. 

“Yes, that lake.” Victor confirmed. 

“How did you reach this conclusion?” Hermione asked, her voice sounding slightly accusing since she realised that Harry was already having trouble with his nerves from just hearing about the lake. 

Victor looked like he wanted to apply his face to the desk very harshly as he shook his head, clearly very unimpressed with what he was about to say. “The egg, when open, it just screamed. Fleur was planning on taking a bath, they said that makes it easier to think for them, and the egg somehow fell down and opened. They said they got very angry with the egg, and threw it into the bath in a fit of rage. That was when they figured out that if you listen to the screaming under the water, it becomes speech.” 

Teddy snorted. “It what?” 

“It becomes speak,” Victor, who assumed that he had said something wrong in English, overcorrected himself, not realising that Teddy was actually doubting that screaming could become speech through means of introduction of water instead of air. 

“What did it speak? I mean, say?” Ron asked. 

Victor, who was quickly becoming unsure of the correct way to wield the English language, gave a note to Draco, who happened to be sitting the closest so that he may read it to the rest of the gathered group. “Diggory wrote it down for me. To the left is the Bulgarian translation from Headmaster Karkaroff.” 

Draco unfolded the note and read out loud. 

“Come seek us where our voices sound, 

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took.

But past an hour the prospect's black

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back” 

“We cannot sing above the ground…” Teddy repeated, “that sounds like merpeople to me. Has something been stolen from you yet?” He looked up at Victor with a frown. 

“May I see that?” Hermione asked for the note from Draco, who passed it along. Hermione quickly copied the note onto a new piece of parchment, then passed it back all the way to Victor. Once she had the text before her, she began to study it intensely. 

“No, nothing has been stolen, but yes, we think that we will have to go into the lake. In February…” Victor didn’t look impressed at all. “The layers of spells that we will need… light spell under water, heat protection to survive, something to breathe underwater with, and something to navigate underwater…” Victor looked like he wanted to hit something with his head again, possibly to release some of the steam of thoughts which appeared to be gathering in there. “It is a magic trial of course.” He concluded, accidentally replacing ‘alright’ with ‘of course.’ 

“Thank you for… telling me…” Harry mumbled, managing to shake the feeling of discomfort at last, as he remembered that he didn’t need to go into the lake at all, and could just forfeit. He clung to that feeling of relief which he had experienced when he realised that he wasn’t bound by the Goblet of Fire and its magical contract. 

“You are welcome. Do you want me to tell you about what we decide to do separately?” Victor offered, but Harry shook his head. 

“Thank you, I will ask Professor Snape what I should do.” Harry smiled at the champion, who bid his farewell and walked off towards the library, very possibly in search of something that could help him breathe and see underwater. 

Thus, Harry spoke to Professor Snape when he got the chance. Said chance came rather soon as Harry found some time after a Potions lesson to speak to the man. It had been the last lesson of the day for both the fourth year students and Professor Snape. 

Harry approached with Draco by his side, while the rest of his friends waited outside. He found to his great personal satisfaction that the Potions Master was wearing the necklace that he had gotten from Remus during Hex-mas, without making any attempt to hide it under his clothes. Harry had heard some people talk about the necklace when the term began, saying that it was strange and surprising to see Professor Snape wearing jewellery, yet the rumors had clearly not bothered the man enough to hide or take the necklace off. Harry imagined how happy it would make his dad to know that the gift he had given his partner was clearly cherished. Besides, with the high collar and dark robes, the necklace was a very good match.

Their exchange of words wasn’t very long or complicated. Harry told the Head of his House that he had learnt about the second trial, and asked what he should do. The Potions Master advised him to simply resign, but upon Harry’s expressed worry about whatever it was that he would lose, the man assured his partner’s son that he would take care of all preparations, should Harry actually need to compete when the date for the second trial came. 

After this brief yet rewarding conversation, Harry asked if Professor Snape could bring Agrippa with him the next time he went to visit Remus, which was pretty much every weekend, since the old owl would probably be better off not flying all the way back home during winter. Harry explained the situation with the owl to the man. While Professor Snape didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of apparating with an animal, he agreed that it was a better choice than having the owl fly over the country when it was clearly getting too old for long distance travelling. 

The talk with Professor Snape reassured Harry and made him calm down, as most talks with the man did, and he left the Potions classroom feeling less worried about himself and Agrippa. He hoped that his dad would find a solution to the owl problem soon, but in the meantime, he knew that he had a lot of friends who had already offered him the use of their owls, should he want to use them. As well as Professor Snape, who was seeing his dad so regularly that asking him to bring a letter probably wasn’t a very demanding request. 

Further, Harry got the chance to introduce Draco and Delacour rather soon after they had learnt about the secret of the golden egg from Victor. It did not take long before Draco and Delacour were deeply engrossed in conversations about school curriculums and the mage society, shifting a little back and forth between English and French. Harry found out, once and for all, that Draco did in fact know a bit of French.

The day of the second trial came quickly. It felt to Harry like no time at all had passed, but the day had suddenly come, and after hugging his boyfriend, he was led away to have breakfast someplace a little more private with the champions. Yet again, Remus and a no longer pink Snuffles were there, as well as Diggory’s father, and Delacour’s sister. Victor’s only company was once again Headmaster Karkaroff, neither friends, nor family, had come to keep him company. 

The breakfast continued much the same as the last one had, except for the fact that Mr. Diggory didn’t speak to anyone but his son and the Durmstrang Headmaster, much to the relief of most people in the room, with the exception of Headmaster Karkaroff, who had to be exposed to what amounted to bragging about Cedric Diggory, despite the younger Diggory’s discomfort about the ordeal. 

Delacour’s sister enjoyed playing with Snuffles, who was fed bacon for his troubles, which was well worth it to the animagus. It was with some displeasure that the dog saw the girl wheeled away by a teacher from Beauxbatons, who had been sent to help Gabrielle Delacour to the trials. The teacher had presumably also been tasked with taking the girl to a good spot on the stands where her considerable height disadvantage wasn’t a problem. Snuffles considered it a loss as the total number of people in this room willing to feed him bacon had now dropped to a total of zero. 

However, Snuffles soon learnt that Headmaster Karkaroff was actually rather susceptible to begging dog eyes and whimpers. That, or the foreign Headmaster was taking a chance to avoid the conversation with Amos Diggory, and was secretly hoping that his feeding of the gigantic dog might cause the man to leave him alone. To some extent, it worked, since Mr. Diggory was scared to speak in front of Snuffles, out of fear that the very large dog would start barking at him like it had last time. 

While Snuffles extorted all the eggs from the table through Headmaster Karkaroff, Victor began stretching. He was soon joined by Diggory. Meanwhile, Harry, his dad and Delacour spoke about Agrippa the mage. The conversation had started about Agrippa the owl, and about how he had been retired from services. Remus reminded Harry that Hogwarts offered students without owls the option to borrow owls from the Owlery to perform the services of messengers, something which Harry had completely forgotten, when Delacour had smoothly entered the conversation to talk to Remus about the namesake of his owl. Much to Delacour’s delight, Remus had indeed named the owl after Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, and the two spent a lot of the breakfast discussing the man and his accomplishments, as well as his contribution to the global mage society. 

When about an hour was left until the trial, the champions and Harry were collected by Mr. Bagman, who appeared to be very gleeful about the events of the day. Harry noted that he rubbed his hands together more than once as he walked. Unlike the first trial, Remus, Snuffles, Mr. Diggory and Headmaster Karkaroff didn’t go separate ways from the champions, but followed them as Mr. Bagman led them towards the lake. 

Even from afar, Harry could see various carnival stands, and beyond those there were high constructions built along the edges of the lake. He couldn’t help but feel as if those constructions leaned threateningly over the water, as if they could break at any second and fall into the freezing water of the lake. Still, his fear of the lake was slightly dimmed by the scent of food and snacks which came from the stalls which the group now walked behind to get to the champions' tent. Harry recognised it from before, as it was the same tent, and the same guards. Harry specifically recognised the one with the pink hair. 

“Lupin?” A familiar voice called out to Harry on their way to the tent, causing both him and Remus to turn towards the voice. Snuffles stopped as well, but the rest of the group kept walking. 

“Oh it is you. You’ve grown.” Approaching the Lupin family and their dog was Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood. Flint was the one who had been speaking to them, and he was the one to approach before the Wood, who Harry realised that he still thought of as Flint’s boyfriend. 

“Flint, Wood.” Harry grinned at them, before giving them his full attention. “What are you doing here?” After he had said it, he realised just what a strange thing it had been to say, as he knew exactly why they were there. 

Flint and Wood looked exactly like Harry remembered them, with Flint being the taller, slightly less expressional of the two, while Wood oozed passion out of every wrinkle of his face. Flint's expression was even calmer than previously, and his smile surprisingly gentle. 

“Watching the Trimagus Tournament of course!” Wood said, pointing towards the champions' tent with a corndog on a stick that he was halfway through eating. “We were sitting back here to get a peek at Victor Krum, which we did! Have you actually talked to him? Being an almost champion, I mean. Is he cool? I bet he is cool? Have you seen him ride a broom up close yet?”

“Oliver…” Flint gently but sternly spoke his possibly boyfriend’s name. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” The corndog was slowly falling off the stick which Wood was holding, sliding ever closer to Snuffles’ waiting jaws. 

“You know… the passion. You’re doing the passion again.” Flint smiled gently.

Wood turned red as the corndog was lost to Snuffles. “Ah, uh… Yeah, I guess I am. But Quidditch is passion! And people who play Quidditch are a passionate bunch!” 

“I do know Victor Krum, yes.” Harry hurriedly spoke up to stop the passion from happening. “He is a little awkward around, uh, fans, but I could ask if he has some time to speak with you later? I take it you are still playing Quidditch?” 

“We do! Hey, where the Boggart is my corndog?” Wood looked upon his empty stick with a frown. 

“We are attending a Quidditch training academy together. We are even lucky enough to share a room. Wood has already secured a spot in the new team that they are forming by the end of the studies, but I’m not even on the reserve team yet.” Flint sighed, looking slightly depressed as he thought about his future career as a Quidditch player. 

“We have three years left, you just need some more time to become the best you can be.” Wood cheered the person who was definitely still his boyfriend on by patting his shoulder. It seemed to cheer Flint up, albeit only slightly. “That’s part of the reason we came today, to cheer Marc up,” Wood told Harry.  

“I’m very sorry, but it appears my dog ate your corndog…” Remus carefully introduced himself to the conversation. 

The boyfriends turned towards him. For a second, Harry worried that the two of them were about to say something inappropriate or act demeaning because of Remus’ condition, but neither Quidditch player acted on their apparent doubt about Remus’ presence. They became somewhat stiff, but still greeted their former Professor, even if it was with some slight apprehension.

However, before the situation could become utterly awkward, another voice called out for Harry. 

“Lupin, what are you doing out here? You should be in the champions' tent, not among people.” 

The group turned towards the man who had spoken. Towards them came Mr. Crouch, walking in a brisk and determined pace towards Harry. Both boyfriends stepped back slightly, as they recognised a person of authority when they saw one. Harry became aware that something was happening behind him when he heard a strange noise which was distinctly not human. 

“Si...nuffles?” Remus heard the noise too, and was in a much better position than Harry to see what had actually made the noise. 

Snuffles had shrunk back against the ground, every hair upon his body stood on end as he bared his yellow teeth towards the man who was coming towards them. Snuffles’ breathing was hard, he was practically panting where he lay upon the ground, his tail tucked between his legs. The white of his eyes appeared to swell with how much his eyes were widening. From his mouth came a strange combination of whimpers and growls, followed by noises as if he was about to throw up, despite the fact that he didn’t. It took Harry a few seconds to understand that he was looking at a dog who was having a panic attack, and it appeared to be getting worse with the steady approach of Mr. Crouch. 

“Snuffles…” Remus got down on his knees, not caring about the mud as he gently stroked over the dog’s back. He reached the same conclusion as his son about Sirius’ panic attack, which caused him to search for the reason behind the attack so that he might remove his friend from it. 

“Lupin,” Mr. Crouch had caught up to them, but whatever he was about to say was forgotten as he saw the dog pressed to the ground, growling at him and saw the man next to the dog. Mr. Crouch might not recognise the dog, but he knew the face of the werewolf who was kneeling next to it. “...And Lupin.” 

“Crouch.” Remus responded. Harry had never heard his dad address someone in that manner. It was the first time he had ever heard coldness, or maybe even hostility, in Remus’ voice. Further, he had dropped the titles, which Harry knew him only to do with people his dad knew very well. There was such a clash in how Remus addressed Mr. Crouch and the coldness in his voice that Harry felt utterly lost. 

“...I suppose you don’t currently pose a danger, as the full moon is some weeks away.” Mr. Crouch’s voice was cold and indifferent. “However, if I was in your situation, I would not visit a school, out of concern for the students here.” 

Snuffles tried to bark, but he could only whimper, followed by another gag. Harry could see saliva run from the corner of the dog’s mouth, forming into egg white froth. He truly appeared to be badly off, and his body was practically shaking. 

The noise had nonetheless made Mr. Crouch look directly at the dog. He met the dog’s terrified gaze, and then he froze where he stood. The man’s eyes widened slightly before his expression twisted into one of regret and pain. Harry realised with a small startle that he recognised the expression, he had seen it on Mr. Crouch before, when Harry was about to enter the wyvern cage. 

The dog and the man stared at one another, pain and regret meeting pure, unfiltered fear. 

“You are scaring my dog, Crouch.” Remus ignored all the insults towards him, and continued to pet Snuffles back, trying to calm him down somewhat. He was completely cold, apparently not caring about Mr. Crouch’s own distress. “I don’t have time to discuss security details with you.” Remus bent down and very carefully picked the huge dog up, much to the admiration of the two Quidditch boyfriends. Remus turned towards his son. “Snuffles will be fine, I’ll bring him to Severus’ office and come back again. Don’t worry, we’ll talk about this later.” He assured Harry as he began walking towards the castle. 

Harry wanted nothing more to follow his dad, but he understood that he really didn’t have that option right now, as he hadn’t officially resigned yet. Not to mention that Mr. Crouch didn’t appear like he was about to let Harry go, judging by how close he was standing. 

“I will see you later, Flint, Wood.” Harry nodded towards the two of them as he was led away by Mr. Crouch towards the champions’ tent. 

As he left, Harry heard Wood ask his boyfriend in a worried voice “do you think that dog got sick because of my corndog? There were probably onions in it…”

Chapter Text

The three champions and Harry were standing on the edge of one of the constructed platforms which was placed upon the water. It was swaying slightly in the cold wind and Harry was trying his absolute best to not let himself look into the almost black water which was threateningly swaying about two meters below the platform. The judges, Headmasters and Headmistress, and some teachers from all three schools were standing upon the platform as well, making it decently crowded while still being spacious enough to fit a lot of people upon. 

Just like the champions had expected, they were going into the lake to retrieve something, although Mr. Bagman had yet to reveal what that something was. Every champion had been given a Muggle wetsuit to keep them warm, which had been a relief to everyone. Harry had been given one as well, he hadn’t planned on putting it on, but Mr. Bagman insisted that he appeared like the rest of the champions, at least until he resigned. Thus, he was now dressed in a tight piece of Muggle clothing which made Harry feel slightly self conscious, especially next to Victor. 

A hard gust of wind blew towards them, sending everyone’s clothes flying. Headmaster Dumbledore’s beard accidentally assaulted Madame Maxime’s center, much to the man’s embarrassment and the woman’s amusement. Headmaster Karkaroff was standing next to Professor Snape and held onto his hat for dear life to not have it fly off, he had been lecturing the Professor about how superior sharks were to any other creature in the water. Harry, who was standing very close to his favorite Professor, his own dad excluded, had heard most of it, and his expression practically mimicked Professor Snape. Neither of them were especially impressed with sharks, and with the very unacademic lecture which more closely resembled bragging. Harry couldn’t quite shake the worries about Sirius’ wellbeing, but the Durmstrang Headmaster’s endless lecture about sharks was quite effective in at least taking his mind off those worries. 

“Gentlefolk, Ladies, Gentlemen!” Mr. Bagman’s voice, magically enhanced, cut through the noise of the lake and the conversations which were being held around and upon the lake. “Are you all ready for the second Trimagus Tournament task!” 

The audience screamed from the stands, while most people on the platform appeared comparatively unimpressed with the loudness of the excited Mr. Bagman’s voice. Harry shared the sentiment that the announcer’s magically enhanced voice was probably more pleasant when you weren’t standing in front of him. 

“The champions each obtained a golden egg from the wyvern which they defeated during the last trial! Inside this egg was a clue which could only be understood by opening the golden egg under water! Each champion figured this secret out on their own, and has now prepared themselves to face the challenge of the lake of Hogwarts!” Mr. Bagman continued. 

Harry saw how Delacour turned towards the other two champions and made a face when Mr. Bagman claimed that they had figured things out on their own. Diggory covered his mouth with his hand and giggled. 

“I will now read your all the message inside that egg!” The man continued, as he pulled a note out of his pocket. 

“Come seek us where our voices sound, 

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took.

But past an hour the prospect's black

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back” 

The people upon the platform all appeared calm, listening to a message they all appeared to know, until Mr. Bagman read the last two lines. At that point, almost everyone but the champions and Harry appeared bewildered. Various expressions of confusion and uncertainty crossed the faces of the teachers and professors upon the platform, with some exchanging looks. 

Headmaster Karkaroff even whispered loudly to Professor Snape. “What did he say? What are those two last lines?”

“In summary, something had been stolen from our three champions and Mr. Lupin. They will have exactly one hour to reclaim it, and if they don’t, who knows what will happen to the stolen things!” Mr. Bagman stopped to revel in the audience reaction to his words. “This is what has been taken from the champions: for Mx Delacour: their sister, Gabrielle Delacour!”

Delacour’s face changed from somewhat annoyed to terrified in an instant, as they stared towards Mr. Bagman in disbelief and shock. 

Mr. Bagman continued on, unaware of the looks that he was being given from the champions. “For Mr. Diggory: his girlfriend, Cho Chang!” 

Harry could almost hear Diggory swallow. He swayed where he was standing, appearing at risk of falling into the lake had Victor not grabbed him to make certain that he didn’t. 

“For Mr. Krum: his friend, Hermione Granger!” 

Harry and Victor exchanged looks, both of them equally in disbelief to hear that Hermione had been taken and put into the lake like some prize for Victor to retrieve. However, more than that, Harry had a horrible suspicion growing at the pit of his stomach. 

“For Harry Lupin: his friend, Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco was in the lake. 

Draco. 

In the lake. 

If Victor hadn’t grabbed him, Harry was certain that he would have fallen into the lake. He couldn’t believe it, Draco had been taken and put into the lake, alongside Hermione, Chang and Delacour, like some manner of prize to collect. It made Harry feel sick to think of them at the bottom of the freezing cold lake, helplessly waiting for someone to come save them. 

He could feel his legs trembling and his throat felt hot and dry at the same time, his mind was racing, while at the same time feeling very still. As if he was already in the freezing lake, Harry turned towards Professor Snape, his features twisting into a look of desperation as his eyes pleaded for help as his voice couldn’t voice the plea. 

Professor Snape didn’t hesitate in the least as he reached into his robes and pulled out a small bottle filled with an unpleasantly greenish liquid for Harry. Somewhere beyond Harry’s comprehension, Mr. Bagman was still talking about the trial. 

“Swallow everything, then jump into the water. You will be fine.” Professor Snape told Harry over the noise of Mr. Bagman’s yelling, the screams from the audience, and the sound of the lake and the wind. The Professor had an unimpressed but very knowing look upon his face, making it seem like he was well aware that Harry couldn’t just leave Draco down there. 

“Go!” Mr. Bagman yelled. Somewhere close by, a shot was sounded to signal the start of the second trial. 

Harry uncorked the bottle, all thoughts about resigning utterly gone as he swallowed the contents of greenish liquid. In his panic and worry, he didn’t even register the foul taste of the potion or its algae smell. 

Next to Harry, the champions cast the magic which would help them through the trial, but he hardly even recognised it. Harry carefully handed the bottle back to Professor Snape, who nodded to Harry as he accepted the item. 

“You will be alright.” 

Harry heard the words as if from far away, and when he realised why that was, he crashed into the water below the platform, and began sinking. 

The first thing Harry became aware of next was the silence and the cold, it wrapped around him like a dark creature, pressing into him and making him feel as if he had gone blind and deaf. The shock of the cold made it so that Harry didn’t feel his body changing right away, but as his body adjusted to the cold, Harry became aware of the fact that his body was changing. His neck and throat hurt as if they were being forced open from inside, his fingers and toes throbbed with pain and then, to Harry’s horror, they began to grow in the murky water. A thin membrane of skin began to grow from his fingers and toes, locking them together. 

Harry was so shocked by the pain and the change that he opened his mouth to scream. The water of the lake entered his mouth, streaming down into his body. Harry felt his lungs ache and for a few long, terrifying seconds, he became aware of the fact that he was drowning. 

Only, he wasn’t. 

Harry’s mouth opened and closed, the water should be entering his lungs, but it wasn’t. The pain was subsiding as well, and Harry became aware that he could actually see in the dark around him. Not only could he see decently well, he could also hear surprisingly well. Harry looked up as something splashed into the water, and he saw Victor Krum shoot off into the darkness, having used some manner of transfiguration to transform part of himself into a shark. 

He turned to focus on himself to see what had happened to him, and found that the potion had transformed him into some manner of grotesque water monster. Harry had gills and webbed feet and hands, and he could see better than he should logically be able to see under water, glasses or not. Harry didn’t particularly enjoy his new appearance, but if it was what helped him save Draco and Hermione, so be it. 

Harry stopped inspecting his disgusting, webbed fingers, and focused on what lay before him. His heart dropped hard in his chest as he realised that he was surrounded by softly swaying, long pieces of almost black seaweed. However, the seaweed was not what had frightened Harry, for he had seen something glitter in that forest of black. A pair of eyes were observing him. 

Harry pulled back without thinking as the seaweed began to approach him. Harry swallowed some water when he realised what was actually coming towards him. It was a merperson, or, it had to be. The merperson had the lower body of an eel, it stretched behind it for up to three meters. The upper body vaguely resembled a human’s, but everything was generally flatter, both the body and the face. The creature had no nose, only two giant eyes and a mouth like a shark’s, filled with what appeared to be at least two rows of pale teeth. There was no hair whatsoever upon the creature’s body, but a long fin ran from its back all the way to the back of its tail, where it stopped. The more Harry saw its tail move, the more he could see that the merperson’s tail was the same shape as that of a moray eel. It was hard to make out the color of the creature, but Harry thought it to be brown and spotted. Over the sides of the body were shapes which appeared to be large gills.

Harry continued to pull back from the merperson, until he bumped into the back of the platform. The creature was right in front of him now, staring at him with black, empty eyes. Then, slowly, it brought its webbed hand up, which rather resembled Harry’s with its current membrane shape, and waved at Harry. It waited, then waved again. Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of Lovegood, the way this creature stared into space and waved without any human expressions crossing its face. Harry immediately felt like the eel was less frightening, even if he felt a little bad to think that his impression of Lovegood might be somewhat unflattering. Then again, Lovegood might love to be compared to a merperson. 

Harry carefully raised his hand and waved back. 

The creature let out a soft cooing noise and spun in place where it was, twisting its long body into a few rolls. 

Harry tried to roll as well, but didn’t manage very well since he was unused to his new body. 

The creature appeared to cackle, then, it opened its mouth and spoke. While the words weren’t exactly human, Harry found that he could understand what it was saying without too much problem. “Hrrry Llllpn?” 

Harry Lupin. It had called Harry’s name, unless Harry had gone completely insane. He felt comparatively sane, at least for the moment. 

Harry nodded in response, assuming that he shouldn’t talk underwater. 

“Cmm hllllp.” The creature spoke again as it produced a thick piece of seaweed which it appeared to have been holding but which Harry hadn’t registered until now. It handed Harry part of the seaweed, and showed for Harry to tie it around his arm. 

Harry slowly did what was asked of him, but found it hard to perform the task with his webbed fingers. The creature waited patiently until Harry was done. Then, it carefully pulled on the other end of the seaweed, causing Harry to float after it like a strange underwater balloon. 

Harry realised what the merperson was trying to achieve. A feeling of relief washed over him as he realised that this creature had been sent here to help him get to Draco and Hermione, although his thoughts were mostly on Draco, as Victor was more than capable of saving Hermione. He hadn’t been abandoned to fight for himself, the adults were making sure that he was safe, even at the bottom of the cold winter lake. Just like they had promised, the adults were making sure that he, as an unwilling participant and minor, wouldn’t be endangered, and had taken proper measures of caution to make certain of it.

The creature came to float next to Harry, looking at him with its giant, empty, black eyes. It slowly wriggled its body, trying to show Harry how to move. Harry realised that it must be thinking of him as incapable, if it felt that it was necessary to show him how to swim. Then he realised that he actually didn’t know how to swim, meaning that the merperson wasn’t that far off in its assumptions. 

Slowly, Harry began to kick, gently moving himself forward in the water. The creature giggled and followed him, it was clearly far beyond Harry in both speed and finesse. That was where the seaweed rope came in handy, as Harry was being pulled along. He was technically swimming, but he was moving far faster with the help of the merperson. Soon enough, it was leading the way while staying close to Harry, the long, flat body moving through the forest of seaweed with ease while Harry did his best to simply swim next to it without pulling too much on the seaweed rope. 

After a while, the creature began to make strange noises. Harry became concerned that the noises meant danger, but the merperson appeared calm. After some more minutes of confusion, Harry realised that the creature was singing. 

“Brrrrr….Brrrrr…. Brrrrrrrrrr.” The creature sang, as it brought Harry towards their destination in a steady pace. 

Harry could already feel his legs getting tired, although he was very thankful for the creature’s help. Harry hesitated, as he feared swallowing some water again, but after some experimental noises, he began to hum along with the merperson. 

“Brrr? Brrr. Brrr.” Harry tried to sing. He couldn’t help but feel a little stupid. 

The creature looked at Harry, then appeared to giggle. It dropped the seaweed rope and turned in place, then grabbed the rope once more and continued pulling Harry along. 

“Brrrrr….Brrrrr…. Brrrrrrrrrr.” Sang the creature. 

“Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.” Hummed Harry. 

“Brrrrr!” They both concluded as one, causing them both to giggle at one another. 

It appeared to Harry that the large merperson was frightening enough to most things in the lake that they would much rather leave it and Harry alone. Thus, the two of them slowly proceeded through the forest of seaweed, humming along with one another. The creature was challenging Harry with harder and harder ‘songs’ which basically meant that it made different noises and expected Harry to mimic them. Of course, Harry with his human vocal cords had no problem mimicking most of the things which were thrown at him, but was instead fighting against taking too much water in at once, because the breathing felt unfamiliar and hurt slightly even if his body was handling it just fine right at that moment. After a while, he had become so good at it that the creature next to him ran out of noises to challenge Harry with. 

Luckily for them, they had just about reached the end of the seaweed forest, and swam out into what looked like a small village built out of sand, rocks, and various pieces of shell, coral, old bones, and rotting wood from long sunken ships. Harry saw what he thought of as huts, built with whatever materials the merfolk had found, lined up along a main road. Ahead was what Harry considered to be a sea plaza, at the center of which was raised a statue, probably stolen from a long sunken ship somewhere in the lake. The statue was so old and weathered that Harry could make out nothing of it but he made the assumption based on the shapes that the statue might have depicted a woman long ago. In front of the statue were two bodies, safely secured inside big air bubbles which appeared to be connected to the ground by means of seaweed. Harry was reminded of balloons yet again. 

The merperson and Harry slowly made their way to the statue. Around them stirred many other merfolk, who all appeared very alike to Harry, with the exception of the small ones, who he took to be children. Some of the merchildren swam over to Harry and his friend, and circled the two of them like curious puppies. Harry liked puppies well enough to like these creatures, but he also hoped that they stayed away, as he knew that puppy teeth were sharp, and these creatures’ teeth were no doubt far sharper. 

The merperson brought Harry to the statue, and pointed to the balloon which contained Draco. He appeared to be sleeping, curled together slightly as his hair and clothes danced around him inside the bubble as the underwater currents moved him and his bubble upside down. Harry glanced towards the other bubble, and the other person. He recognised the shape of Delacour’s sister, even if it took him a little longer to realise that it was her, since she of course didn’t have her wheelchair with her under water. Between the two bubbles floated two empty pieces of seaweed, both of which hinted on the fact that Victor and Diggory had already been there to collect their kidnapped victims. 

Harry turned around to search for Delacour, but he couldn’t see very far in the murky water. With the pace that he and his friend had been going, the champions should have been there already, but Gabrielle Delacour was still there. That worried Harry a lot, since it meant that Delacour was more likely than not to have been attacked by something in the lake. 

That final part of the merfolk’s poem appeared to Harry, and he felt cold despite the warmth of the wetsuit. 

Around him, the children played around the bubbles, bouncing off against them and gnawing on the seaweed ropes without breaking either the bubbles or the seaweed. Harry turned towards his friend, who had just released the seaweed which held Draco’s bubble in place, and was holding it out to Harry like a balloon. Harry accepted it, but then pointed to the second bubble. His heart was beating hard in his chest, he knew that his request might come off as demanding, or perhaps even like an insult. He found that he was holding his breath, which was making him feel very ill, so he stopped, allowing the water to flow through him and his gills the way it was supposed to. 

Harry’s friend leaned its head to the side, seemingly considering what Harry wanted. Then, it slowly spoke. “Nnnrry unn.” 

Only one. 

Harry thought that he was translating that one right.

He pointed again, feeling more desperate now. He tried to speak, hoping that he was actually making sense to the merperson. “That one too.” He held out his hand for the second bubble and its rope with more force, trying to communicate that he wasn’t about to leave without it. 

His friend glanced into the darkness surrounding the merfolk village, towards the seaweed forest. Harry assumed that it could see far better than he could, and could perhaps even hear from far longer distances. 

A noise travelled to Harry’s ears as well, and through the darkness appeared another merperson, swimming hurriedly towards the plaza and the statue. It was even bigger than Harry’s friend, and appeared to be somewhat darker in color. Some of the merchildren scattered as it swam towards them, but Harry’s friend didn’t appear particularly alarmed. 

The two merfolk began to communicate with one another, their tails twisting together as they made noises back and forth. The communication was very unlike the one between Harry and the merperson, as these two appeared to speak an actual language to one another, even if that language sounded somewhat like a combination of wailing and clicking to Harry. Harry had never heard whale song, but if he had, he would have described the merfolks’ language to resemble the song of whales. 

The larger one separated from Harry’s friend, who swam over to the other bubble. Soon enough, Harry was holding onto both Draco and Gabrielle Delacour, like he had won them at the carnival. He was happy to learn that the bubbles didn’t actually pull him upwards, but that he could easily bring them with him. 

Harry’s new friend grabbed the seaweed rope once more, and began to guide Harry and the safely bubbled people, towards the forest of seaweed. Harry was rather relieved to learn that he would have help all the way back as well, and thankfully resigned to letting the merperson pull him while he kicked his misshapen feet and kept an eye on the two balloons. The merchildren followed them to the forest of seaweed, then waved them off from a safe distance. As they returned into the forest, Harry felt relieved but anxious to get back to the surface and dry land. He wasn’t sure how long the potion would last either, which made him all the more eager to return before it reversed. As it had been made by Professor Snape, Harry had no doubts that it would reverse flawlessly when the time came. 

When the potion began to reverse, Harry could see the beams upon which the platform was resting on. It had begun as a throbbing in his hands and legs, and had spread to making his neck sting as well. It was an immense relief to see the wooden beams ahead. With his improved but fading vision, Harry could see that some manner of ladder had been dropped into the water to allow the contestants to climb up to the platform again. Harry pushed the bubbles towards the surface, once they had broken said surface, they changed shape and kept the merfolks’ ‘victims afloat as they adjusted to their current predicaments.

Harry saw a body enter the water, and concluded when Gabrielle Delacour was grabbed that it was probably someone tasked with helping the victims out of the water. Harry watched from under the water as Draco swam after the other two people towards the ladder. He waved goodbye to the merperson, who grinned and waved back, before disappearing quickly into the seaweed forest. 

Harry waited until he was sure that he was no longer mutated, and until his lungs felt like they were about to explode before he clumsily kicked his way to the surface. Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about the fact that he couldn’t swim, for Victor was next to him almost as soon as he had surfaced, and helped him towards the ladder. When Harry tried and failed to climb it with his aching arms and legs, Victor simply heaved Harry over his shoulder and brought him up to the platform. It was a little embarrassing, but Harry was very thankful nonetheless. 

Well on top of the platform again, Harry was pulled over by Draco, who accepted him from Victor. Harry allowed himself to roll over on his back and simply breathe. Wonderful, cold air entered his lungs, and Harry breathed it all in more greedily than a dementor. 

“What are you doing going into the lake, you… you… you.” Draco’s almost insult ended in a sigh as he pulled Harry up to allow him to rest against his legs where he laid sprawled out on the platform. “I should have known you’d jump into the lake… I was hoping you’d realise that I would be fine, but… of course not. Are you alright, Harry?” 

“You make it seem like you were the one to save me…” Harry chuckled, feeling the water run off him and drip from his hair. 

Hermione landed heavily next to Harry and more or less assaulted him with a towel. Harry appreciated the towel. “You jumped into the lake! You hate the lake, Harry! Oh, what were you thinking you mad, brave, mad lad!” 

Harry wasn’t sure if she was insulting him or not, so he simply smiled at her. 

“And what were you doing in that lake, Hermione?” Draco turned his attention to her instead, his tone of voice bordering on appalled. “I only accepted this position because I was worried that they would ask you or Neville next, and here you are, also one of the merfolk hostages.” 

Hermione appeared very flustered over the comment. “W-well, I was asked since I’m Victor's closest friend, a-apparently, and I was so flattered by the notion of being someone’s closest friend that I said yes without thinking…” 

“Well, I never…” Draco sighed and rubbed his eyebrows, shaking his head. 

“You!” Delacour pushed past Hermione, almost making her fall into the lake once more in their hurry to get to Harry. Hermione looked offended at first, but calmed down when she realised that it was the older sibling Delacour who failed to control themselves in their relief. “You took her back!” 

“The merfolk gave her to me, what happened to you down there?” Harry tried to sit up but he ended up back where he had begun, and thus concluded that Draco’s lap was where he was meant to be. 

“I was very unlucky…” They sighed and sat back, shaking their head as if disappointed by their own abilities. “The grindylows got to me, I heard someone mention that it could be because my hair is bright and easy to see underwater, but I digress. They swarmed me, and one of them got close enough to rip my bubble-head charm. I couldn’t recast it at the bottom of the lake, and I… I think I was drowning, when something suddenly grabbed me and brought me to… English… top of the lake. It was one of those horrible merfolk who stole Gabi, and it brought me back here and up on the platform. As soon as I got better, I tried to get back in the water to save Gabi, but the adults wouldn’t let me!” They looked stressed and upset by the mere memory of what had happened. 

Then Delacour’s expression turned into a displeased frown. “It was a lie… Bagman had apparently added the last line without anyone’s knowledge. The hostages were never in danger. Never.” 

Harry felt both relief and anger wash over him as it was revealed to him that Mr. Bagman had caused them all such distress for the sake of making the task more exciting to the onlookers. If he had known that, he would probably never have jumped into the lake. The thought of Delacour desperately trying to get back into the water after nearly drowning, all for the sake of saving a hostage who had always been safe was both tragic and upsetting. 

He looked over at Mr. Bagman with a dispelased frown, but found to his surprise that he man was completely wet and stood shivering upon the platform as he gathered himself to speak to the audience. Someone had pushed him off the platform and into the freezing water, of that Harry was certain, as nobody around him appeared particularly concerned with the man’s current predicament. 

Delacour leaned in to whisper to Harry, proving his suspicion to be right. “He deserved it.” 

Harry and Draco both smiled in return, as they had realised what Delacour was talking about. 

“Madam! There, there, please!” The excited voice of Gabrielle Delacour interrupted the mumble of the adults as Madame Maxime stepped over towards Harry, Draco, Hermione and Delacour. The Headmistress was carrying the girl in her arms, evidently having little trouble whatsoever with the task. The girl looked small in her arms, but it was an almost regalness to her, like a chihuahua knowing it was being carried by royalty. 

Gabrille Delacour was lowered down enough so that she could speak to Harry and the rest of their gathered group. “That was awesome!” She hollered excitedly. “Was I good a hostage? Was I great?” She giggled and grinned at Harry. 

Harry had a realisation, causing him to smile. This girl had just had the adventure of her life, and it was evident. It hit Harry that this was probably one of the few things where she had been able to be completely included, despite not being able to use her legs. As a hostage, she didn’t really have to do anything, but was still the center of attention. Even better, in the water, her legs didn’t provide any trouble for the person who was supposed to save her. The task was so perfectly engineered to allow Gabrielle Delacour to be included that Harry found himself wondering if it had been planned by some adult. 

“The best.” Harry promised her. “You out-hostaged everyone else.” 

Madame Maxime translated for the girl in her arms, causing Gabrielle Delacour to giggle loudly. She reached forward and offered her palm to Harry, who understood the gesture and gave her a high five. 

“The best.” Gabrielle Delacour repeated. 

“Gentlefolk! Ladies! Gentlemen!” The completely drenched Mr. Bagman addressed the audience, calling for immediate and full attention. 

Draco helped Harry to his feet as the champions were gathered together with their hostages in a little circle around Mr. Bagman. 

“What an exciting second task we have had today! One of our champions had to drop out of the game! Our accidental champion jumped into the lake to save his friend! We all witnessed some awesome magic, and we even got to see one of the illusive mermaids with our own eyes as it brought back Mx. Delacour to the platform!” Mr. Bagman continued to yell. 

Harry noted out of the corner of his eye that Headmaster Karkaroff shuddered at the mention of the merperson. He apparently didn’t like them very much. 

“But with all this action, you are all wondering what happened down there? Well, I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you the results of today’s trial! In first place, we have Victor Krum with his shark head transformation!! His speed and agility from playing Quidditch professionally gave him an edge in this very physical contest!” 

The audience began to cheer as Mr. Bagman pointed to Victor, who for once looked like he had heard everything almost all too clearly. The only upside of being this close to the announcer was that Victor heard everything, which wasn’t ideal for everyone else, but at least it helped him. Victor raised his hand in triumph towards the audience, who all yelled louder in celebration. Victor then turned to Hermione, and carefully grabbed her wrist, raising her hand to the sky alongside his own. Harry could tell that Hermione was flustered, but she nonetheless enjoyed the rush of the applause, even if it made her embarrassed. 

Somewhere from far across the lake, Harry thought he could hear someone yell “yeah, Hermione!” followed by a “wooh!” 

“In second place, we have Cedric Diggory!” Mr. Bagman yelled as the audience had quiet down enough for him to be heard again. “Using a bubble-head charm!” 

Diggory stepped forward and raised his hands to the audience, with Cho Chang by his side. She giggled and waved to the people across the lake, who cheered for them both. 

“And lastly, we have Mx. Delacour, also with an excellent bubble-head charm, but they were sadly stopped by the onslaught of a collection of grindylows!” Mr. Bagman introduced the final champion. 

Delacour stepped forward. Since he was standing so close by, Harry could tell that they weren’t entirely comfortable with being announced alongside their failure. Madame Maxime joined them with Gabrielle, who was ever so happy to receive the applause and the hollering from the audience. 

Victor and Diggory exchanged glances, then stepped back up on either side of Delacour, much to the surprise of Diggory’s girlfriend. They both grabbed one of their hands, and raised them high in victory. Delacour looked surprised at first, before their expression melted into one of appreciation. Together, the three champions stood with their hands raised, letting the audience shower them with applause. 

“And finally,” this time, it wasn’t Mr. Bagman who spoke, but Headmaster Dumbledore. His calm voice was far more pleasant that the loud, yet well articulate screams of Mr. Bagman. “The judges would like to express an apology in regards to the misleading poem which you heard earlier today. The hostages, so to speak, were never in danger, and would have been returned by the merfolk by the end of today, no matter if the champions became incapacitated or not. This miscommunication caused quite some distress in some of our champions, and we want to acknowledge this mistake with an apology. Further, we’d like to officially thank Mr. Lupin, who retrieved two of the hostages and saved the merfolk some effort in returning them. Thank you, Mr. Lupin.” Professor Dumbledore turned towards Harry with a smile and began to applaud politely. 

The rest of the people on the platform began to politely applaud, and the audience followed, even if the applause and cheers weren’t nearly as loud as for the three champions. Harry felt his face heatt with both embarrassment and happiness, as he quickly lowered his head so as to not let anyone know. 

“Ah, yes, thank you Headmaster! A cheer for Mr. Lupin!” Mr. Bagman agreed, trying frantically to adapt to the improvisation to his already completed script. “For the next and final trial, it will be held on the 24th of June! There is no clue to solve this time, as the champions will be braving a labyrinth filled with all kinds of mysterious challenges and tricky magic! The champions are expected to brush up on their magical knowledge and train for the unexpected! Thank you all for coming today, and don’t forget to throw your trash away like adults. This is a school, not a dump. Thank you all!” 

Draco reached over to grab Harry’s hand and squeezed it. Harry leaned heavily on him with a sigh. His muscles felt like jelly after all the terrifying excitement and the swimming which he had performed. He longed only to rest now, preferably somewhere where he didn’t have to be included in any celebrations. 

“There is no way, no way at all, that I’m getting involved with the last trial…” Harry mumbled, shaking his head as he spoke, thus sending water droplets flying around him. 

Draco smiled, he was already drenched, a few more drops would do no harm at this point. “Good. You shouldn’t have to.” He squeezed Harry’s hand as he assured him. 

Harry smiled at his boyfriend. “You won’t get kidnapped into any labyrinths then?” 

“I promise.” Draco chuckled. “I won’t get kidnapped again.”

Chapter Text

Remus, Neville, Ron and Teddy met them when they returned to the shore in one of the boats which was traditionally used for the first years to travel across the lake. Harry, Draco and Hermione had returned together with Professor Snape, who was helped out of the boat by a worried Remus, before he turned his attention to his son. 

“Harry… these trials are more stressful than any transformation I’ve ever had…” Remus softly scolded Harry as he hugged him tight. “I’m so glad that you are safe.” 

“I was looked out for all the way, dad.” Harry hugged him back, even if he was slightly worried about the fact that he was leaving wet marks on his dad’s clothes by hugging him. 

“Where is your dog?” Professor Snape asked, interrupting whatever it was that Remus had been about to answer. Harry noted some concern in his voice, but he wasn’t sure if the man was more bothered by Snuffles being lost or him wandering off on his own. 

Remus let go of Harry and straightened up, his expression twisted into a displeased frown. People were moving away from the water, and they were quickly being left alone on the bridge. On the shore, the champions were met by fans, whose loud voices drowned out most of what was being said on the bridge. “We encountered Crouch.” In case someone was listening in on them, Remus gave a short but direct answer.  

A hint of alarm flickered over Professor Snape’s face, before he glanced behind him towards the lake, more specifically at the boat which was bringing Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch back across the water. “I understand,” he concluded in a simple manner. 

“I took him to your office. I know I shouldn’t walk around Hogwarts on my own, but it was the only place where I could think of bringing him.” Remus sighed and shifted nervously, clearly ashamed to have broken what he considered to be a rule, albeit an unwritten one. 

“You did the right thing,” Professor Snape concluded. He wasn’t about to blame his partner for taking the one option he had at that moment. 

The students looked between the adults, trying to follow the conversation. Harry was swaying slightly, something that both Draco and Neville noticed, which led to them taking up positions on both sides of Harry to support him.

“Professors? I think Harry needs to sit down for a little.” Neville carefully spoke up. 

Harry appreciated his conclusion, and found himself agreeing with it. He really wanted to sit down.  

“Of course.” Professor Snape focused on Harry, clearly sharing the sentiment of everyone else. “Let us go to my office as well. It is not big enough for all of you, but it is probably better to allow young Lupin to rest someplace where he can be alone, rather than in the Slytherin common room or dormitories.” 

Harry, Draco and Hermione ended up following the two Professors to the Potions Master’s office. Neville, Ron and Teddy couldn’t fit in the room without making it crowded, which led to them collectively deciding that it was more important for those who had been involved with the second trial to be allowed some rest and privacy. 

The same transfigured armchair had been reshaped again, and in it lay the big dog. He jumped down when he saw the people enter, and hurried over to Remus where he jumped straight up in his arms, almost knocking him over. 

“Oh woah… Hi…” Remus mumbled as he found himself having been assigned as dog carrier once again.

Professor Snape waved his hand towards the fireplace, inside which a fire began to burn. The three wet students quickly gathered in front of it to warm and dry themselves off. 

Remus sat down upon the armchair, still holding on to his clingy friend. Luckily, Remus could still see over Snuffles’ shoulder, which meant that he could still participate in any conversations being held. 

With some help from Dobby, who was called by Draco, and very happy to help, the three of them got a change of clothes from their personal closets. They took turns to change in Professor Snape’s bedroom, which was connected to his office. Harry tried to change as fast as he could and tried not to pay attention to anything inside the small room, but he couldn’t help but notice that the room was sparse, with only a bed and a nightstand, as well as a closet and a small bookcase. The bed had been made in a neat manner. There was almost no color in the room whatsoever, not even on the books in the bookcase. 

When Harry had changed, he noticed that Dobby had already left with their clothes, as he was likely very busy with work. Harry had wanted to thank him properly, but he didn’t want to call him back just for the sake of showing his gratitude. It was a relief to sit down by the fire in dry clothes, and simply feel the heat on his face and hands. For a while, nobody said anything. The only noise came from the fire, and an occasional whimper from Snuffles. He was at the very least calm, albeit still recovering from his panic attack. 

Harry felt himself beginning to fall asleep against Draco’s shoulders, as his aching body began to understand that nothing more was being asked of him for the moment. Hermione’s head was lulling forward as well, and she came to rest on Draco’s other shoulder. Draco gently shook his head, trying to not be dragged down with the other two sleepy individuals into sleep. 

“How is he doing?” Draco finally broke the silence to ask about Snuffles. 

Snuffles almost fell off Remus’ lap at the sound of Draco’s voice. He looked around sleepily, then shook himself and jumped off Remus’ lap to come sit next to the trio by the fire. As he sat down, he changed back into his human shape, and then promptly curled up, hugging his legs as he stared into the flames. Harry, who was sitting next to him, sat up a little better and scooted to the side so that Sirius could sit in front of the fire and not beside it. The animagus gave Harry a thankful look, before getting himself a little closer to the warmth of the fire. 

“How are you feeling, Sirius?” Draco addressed the man directly, now that Sirius could answer him. His expression showed concern without being pitying. “I didn’t quite catch what happened to you, but you seem rather exhausted.” 

“I’ll probably be fine, just give me a little longer to recover.” Sirius rested his forehead against his hand, effectively pulling the hair from his face, as he smiled a joyless smile. “I really didn’t think I’d overreact like that from seeing Crouch…” He muttered to himself. 

Hermione looked rather lost as she looked between Sirius, Remus, Draco and Harry, hoping that someone could give her an explanation but not daring to ask for one. 

“You weren’t overreacting,” Remus gently reassured him. “You were simply reacting, and it wasn’t a reaction you had any control over. You should not feel guilty over something you couldn’t help or stop.” 

“Are you a teacher or what?” Sirius grinned at his old friend. He was beginning to feel a little better now. 

“Professor, actually.” Remus corrected him, earning him a grimace from Sirius. 

“What… is your connection to Mr. Crouch?” Hermione very carefully raised her voice, addressing Sirius from behind Draco’s shoulder. 

Sirius groaned, but he didn’t seem annoyed with Hermione, but with himself. “It’s not that personal, I just… He is a crazy bastard, sparing no measure when it came to fighting back against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He sent me to Azkaban without a trial. He came to my cell, took one look at me, and condemned me for the rest of my life.” Sirius was getting more upset as he was speaking, by the end, he was almost shouting. 

“Mr. Crouch has a well founded reputation of being a very harsh judge of character.” Professor Snape spoke up, interrupting Sirius before his memories and fear got the better of him once more. “Back in the day, he used most brutal measures to extort and force confessions out of people he presumed to be Death Eaters, even allowing his Aurors to use forbidden curses on suspects. He was very popular for his ability to fight fire with fire, to put it simply. While it is true that his methods were effective, and probably saved many lives, it also condemned innocents all the same.” The man’s gaze came to rest upon Remus. 

Remus nodded, absently playing with his sleeve as he stared beyond the trio and Sirius, and into the flames. “He was set to be Minister of Magic, but due to a series of incidents, the public lost faith in him, and Cornelius Fudge was chosen instead. If he had become Minister of Magic, I’m sure that me and every other werewolf would have been hunted down and locked up in Azkaban...” Remus shuddered at the idea of being condemned for life for the supposed crime of being a werewolf. “And what he did to Sirius… without a trial… I simply can’t bring myself to respect the man, even if his methods yielded results.” 

“What were those series of incidents?” Hermione looked between the three men. 

Harry looked around as well, and noted that Draco appeared to know this story, as his expression had become tense but otherwise blank. He was no longer staring at anything, but instead focusing on something that only he could see. 

“His own kid was a Death Eater.” Sirius finally spoke up, when the other two adults continued to hesitate. 

“Oh no…” Harry and Hermione uttered the terrified whisper at once. 

“He… he didn’t? Did he?” Hermione continued to speak, looking between the former Death Eater, the father and the former prisoner of Azkaban. 

“He… he did…” Remus slowly confirmed. “He condemned his own son to Azkaban, rejected him in front of an entire gathering of people, and refused to listen to the son’s claim that he was innocent. He showed no mercy, not even to his own child.” It was evident that the dad, who cared greatly for his son, found Mr. Crouch’s actions to be abominable beyond measure. Not because he believed that all parents and children were the same, but because he was blinded by his own love, as well as his personal distaste for Mr. Crouch, and therefore couldn’t help but condemn the man for his actions. “The child was barely more than a teenager. There should have been another way.”  

“He was… Arrested alongside the Lestranges, wasn’t he? Father has told me of the trial.” Draco spoke next, his face having settled into a determined mask of indifference. 

“Yeah, yeah, he was.” Sirius nodded. “I was more than happy to see Bella go, and her husband and his husband too.” 

“Uhm… I’m not sure I… I followed that.” Hermione carefully spoke up. “Who is Bella? And how many husbands were that?” 

“Oh yeah, I forget that Muggles are usually monogamous.” Sirius blinked at her as realisation settled on his face. “Bella married Rodolphus Lestrange and switched from Black to Lestrange. Then, Rodolphus married this guy named Rabastan, and he of course also joined the Lestrange family. A few people have gotten it into their heads that Rodolphus and Rabastan are brothers, but they sure aren’t. I’m not even sure Rabastan is a Pureblood, whatever he might say about it.” Sirius made it sound like he had known the Lestrange husband, at least to some degree. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange is my aunt. We’re related on my mother’s side.” Draco told Hermione. “If I’m allowed to put it simply, she is an extremely devoted follower of the Dark Lord. After he was defeated, she and the Lestrange husbands faithfully tried to find out what happened to him. That was when…” He stopped speaking, hesitating to continue. 

“The Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom were attacked and tortured into madness by the Lestranges.” Professor Snape spoke up from behind his desk. He had leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression might be calm, but Harry felt like there was some definite turmoil within the man as he spoke of the Longbottoms. 

Hermione gasped, then placed her hands over her mouth, feeling as if she had overreacted somewhat. “Neville’s parents?” She felt the need to confirm what she already knew to be true. 

“Indeed,” Professor Snape continued, his voice sounding the slightest bit thicker than before. “It was a senseless loss of two most capable people. In truth, I still don’t quite understand why the Lestrange husbands would agree to such a plan. Rabastan Lestrange especially was a very careful individual. The desperation might suit Bellatrix Lestrange, but certainly not him. I never knew Bartemius Crouch Jr, so I cannot say anything concrete about him.” 

Harry found it a little strange to hear Professor Snape speak about his time as a Death Eater. It was not a period of his life that the man enjoyed speaking of, for quite obvious reasons, and it was not a period which Harry wanted to learn of out of concern for the man himself. 

“I can’t remember anything about Rabastan Lestrange, was he in our year?” Remus spoke up, a frown forming on his face. “I know that Rodolphus Lestrange is a few years older than us, but I can’t recall anything concrete about his husband.” 

“He was, but I had pretty much forgotten him too.” Sirius sighed. “I met him after school, didn’t recognise him. He had gotten really handsome after his teenage years…” Sirius quickly shook his head after his comment, and spoke far louder than before. “Either way! Crouch saw his son with devoted Death Eaters, and he sent him straight to Azkaban, sent the whole bunch of them, actually.” He sighed and rested his head in his hands. “At least they got a trial…”

“That’s… quite the horrible story…” Hermione concluded, slowly lowering her hands from her face and looked at the people around her. 

“I do believe that the Lestranges should be punished for what they did,” Draco began, he didn’t sound entirely convinced about his statement. “Yet the more I learn about Azkaban, the more I doubt that I believe anyone deserves to be sent there. It just seems… unnecessarily cruel, the more I consider it.” 

The people in the room generally agreed with him, nobody said anything, but they all made various agreeing noises. 

“The loss of her son was a heavy affair for Mrs. Crouch as well,” Remus returned to the topic of the Crouches, as nobody in the room quite wanted to think of the cruel fate of the Longbottoms. “She passed on not long after he died in Azkaban.” 

“I remember that!” Sirius suddenly jumped up to his feet, getting too agitated to sit still. “I had forgotten! The kid was always crying. Then his mother and father visited him when he was very sick. After that, he didn’t cry ever again. The lack of crying was really creepy.” 

“I believe that is enough talk of this topic.” Professor Snape spoke up in an authoritative voice. “Lupin, Malfoy and Granger are getting ever so anxious by this topic.” 

He was right, none of the students were feeling quite well. They were all staring at an indistinct point in the room and trying not to feel bad for the young adult who had lost his life in Azkaban, by the order of his own father. It wasn’t a topic any of them found even remotely comfortable. 

“Yes, of course.” Remus hastily agreed as Sirius sat back down again. “Say, Harry, would you mind telling us about what happened in the lake? I’m very curious to know, if you don’t mind.” 

Harry didn’t mind, in fact, he was very happy to switch to telling his family and friends about his merperson friend and the time he had spent with them in the lake. While Harry was talking, Professor Snape heated up some tea for all of them, it was a lemon tea blend with ginger and honey, which was just what the three cold teenagers and the exhausted animagus needed. Remus added a little extra honey before he was satisfied, but after that, he enjoyed giving his son his full focus as he listened to Harry describe both the merfolk and their village. Both Draco and Hermione enjoyed hearing about the village, as they hadn’t gotten the chance to see it for themselves but had technically been there. 

Professor Snape appreciated hearing about the merfolk and their village as well, but he was more interested in a report of how his Gillyweed potion had worked, especially since he had modified it slightly to allow Harry to see better underwater. 

Sirius mostly enjoyed listening to Harry talk, as it reminded him of James telling stories. He turned back to a dog and was quickly fast asleep in front of the warm fire, with back to his godson, and his body functioning as a pillow for Harry to rest against. Snuffles tail wagged as he dreamt of days long past, when baby Harry had curled up against him and fallen asleep with his nose and hands in Sirius much less tattered fur. 

Chapter Text

“You have to read today’s Daily Prophet,” Ron greeted Harry as he, Draco and Teddy sat down by the Slytherin table, only to be met by their Gryffindor friends. “It is hilarious. Finally they did something fun.” He frowned at his own words. “Though I guess that it was fun to read about dragons too, but this one has an interview with a merperson. It’s a riot.” Ron handed Hermione’s copy of the newspaper to Harry. 

“Hey,” Hermione objected as her item was being handed off without her permission. 

“Oh, man… Sorry!” Ron blinked at her and then took the newspaper back from Harry and gave it to Hermione. “I forgot it was yours. My bad.” 

“It’s fine.” She smiled at him before handing the copy over herself. “Here you go, Harry.” 

“Thank you.” Harry smiled at his two friends as he made himself comfortable on the bench. Next to him, Draco caught his copy of the newspaper from a waiting owl. 

Harry turned the newspaper over and studied the front cover. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw it. “Say, neither of you told me that you were interviewed about being a hostage.” He looked at Draco and Hermione with a slightly teasing smirk. 

At the front of the newspaper was a photo which had been taken when Krum and Diggory had posed with Delacour, the three of them raising their hands to the sky together in celebration. Behind the champions stood Madame Maxime, and while she was not technically all there, the photograph showed her torso, and Gabrielle Delacour in her arms. Harry was thankful that he wasn’t in the picture at all as he looked at the excited face of the young girl where she hung behind her sibling’s shoulder, soaking wet and grinning happily. Above the photograph, in bold letters, the headline spelled out ‘Krum claims victory in 2nd trial!’

The second, smaller picture on the front page depicted Draco, Hermione, Cho Chang and Gabrielle Delacour. The photograph had been taken from afar, and was depicting the four people on the platform. Diggory was next to his girlfriend, and Delacour was with their sister, hugging her tightly in their arms. Hermione and Draco were standing on their own, drenched and wrapped in towels. Harry realised that the photograph must have been taken before or while he himself got out of the water, since Victor wasn’t anywhere in the picture. Above the photograph, the newspaper headline spelled out ‘Hostages of the 2nd trial speaks up.’ 

“T-they just asked for a comment!” Hermione objected. “To make sure that we were fine. I’m really glad they didn’t come back for more information.” 

“They clearly didn’t need to,” Draco calmly flicked the newspaper open. “Miss Delacour gave them all they could ever want and more.” He scoffed. “If we had only been interviewed at the same time, I would have known beforehand that you would be there…”  

“Yeah, yeah, that is all fun and all, but read the part where the reporter interviewed that crazy big black and white merperson! It was huge, the way it jumped out of the water with Delacour in its arms…!” Ron’s eyes were shining as he pointed to a place in the article. 

“I thought it was going to ram the whole platform and just knock everyone into the water!” Teddy grinned as well. “Did it say anything about that?” 

“It does!” Ron excitedly grinned back at his friend. “You have to read it next, whoever finishes first.” 

Harry smiled to himself as he turned to the page about Victor winning the second trial. He skimmed through it, until he got to the part about Delacour being brought up from the water by the giant merperson. There was a photograph depicting the rescue, but it was from far away and rather unclear. Harry thought he recognised it as the one who had spoken to his merperson friend, but it was hard to tell for certain. 

The onlookers of the trial received quite the shock when about twenty minutes into the trial, a disturbance shook the waters, and one of the Hogwarts Lake merfolk burst from the lake. It slammed into the Judges’ Platform, holding on to what appeared to be a person. The creature dropped the person before the judges, and then fell back into the water. Onlookers have described it to have looked like a gigantic, flat serpent, with a human body where the head should have been. When the creature’s body rested upon the platform, most of its snakelike body was still in the water, despite the drop of two meters. Some theorised that it wasn’t truly a merperson, as it didn’t appear particularly aquatic from far away, but Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has confirmed that it was indeed a member of the Hogwarts lake merfolk tribe. The person it dropped was revealed to be Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour, who was interviewed about the incident. 

Harry stopped reading there, as he felt like he already knew the rest. He wondered if it was the same merperson, it had appeared large in the water, but not quite as large as the article made it seem. He turned towards the article which featured Draco, Hermione, Gabrielle Delacour and Cho Chang. 

HOSTAGES OF THE SECOND TRIAL SPEAKS UP

Yesterday during the second Trimagus Tournament task, four people were taken hostage by the merfolk in the Hogwarts Lake. These four people were Miss Gabrielle Delacour, Miss Cho Chang, Miss Hermione Granger, and Mr. Draco Malfoy. By the expressed request of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, The Daily Prophet is interviewing the hostages involved so that all the readers of the Prophet are allowed to learn about the details behind the scenes of the Trimagus Tournament tasks. 

Please introduce yourselves to our readers.

Chang: I’m Cho Chang, I’m a fifth year student at Hogwarts and the girlfriend of Cedric Diggory, true Hogwarts Trimagus champion.

Delacour: (translated from French) I’m Gabrielle Delacour, my older sibling is competing for Beauxbatons! I’m not a student yet, but I will be when I grow older. 

Malfoy: I am Draco Malfoy, fourth year student at Hogwarts and heir to the Malfoy family. The Lupins are close friends of my family, and I am personally a close friend to Harry Lupin.

Granger: I’m Hermione Granger, [also] a fourth year student at Hogwarts. I had the pleasure of accompanying Victor [Krum] to the Yule Ball as a friend.

How are the Trimagus Tournament second task hostages chosen?

Chang: We were asked based on being close friends, and in my case more, of the respective champions. We had the option to refuse, but who is boring enough to not want a little safe game of being rescued by a person we like? (She jokes and laughs.)

Delacour: (translated) I was coming to see my sibling compete, and so Headmistress Maxime asked me and my parents if I wanted to be a hostage. My parents said yes! I am very excited, since the water is going to make it really easy for me to participate!

Malfoy: I was asked by Professor Snape if I would be alright with acting as the hostage for Harry Lupin, and I accepted the offer.

Granger: Professor McGonagall came to me and expressed some trouble in finding a suitable hostage for Victor [Krum] and asked if I was willing to take the position in case nobody more suitable was found. If I’m still in the newspaper tomorrow, I guess that will mean that I was the best choice after all? (She laughs nervously.)

What do you feel about being a hostage?

Chang: Thrilled!

Delacour: Excited!

Granger: A little nervous… (She laughs nervously again.)

Malfoy: I am not expecting that I will be anything more than an extra for this trial. As the rules of the contracts with the Goblet of Fire are somewhat elusive, I have been requested to be here to assure that nothing happens to Harry Lupin, should he be unable to resign from this trial.

What was it like being a hostage? (This question was asked after the second Trial.)

Delacour: (translated) That was so much fun! I was saved by someone who wasn’t my sibling, and then I was lifted up and carried by Mr. Krum! The water was kind of cold, but I got wrapped up quickly. Did you see that soft bubble thing that kept me afloat until Mr. Krum picked me up? It was really soft and warm, so I wasn’t distressed in the least. Although Fleur was worried, I was never scared! I wish I had seen one of the merfolk though. (The reporter tells her that they got a photograph of one when it saved her sibling from drowning.) Can I see it? That sounds really awesome! (She got to see the picture later.)

Chang: It wasn’t a very interesting experience, as we were put to sleep before we were put in the lake. It was like a nap, and then I woke up in the lake in Cedric’s [Diggory] arms. Of course, I wasn’t worried. Not with Ced as my champion.

Is there anything you’d like to express to the readers in regards to the second task?

Chang: My Cedric is definitely winning the last task! I’m very excited to be there by his side when he returns triumphantly.

Delacour: (translated) Fleur is unbeatable when it comes to magic, when I grow up, I will be just as good and compete in the next Trimagus Tournament!

“Say, Draco?” Harry looked up from Hermione’s copy of The Daily Prophet. “How come you only call me a friend in this interview? Mr. Bagman said something similar. He only called you my friend as well, but he called Chang Diggory’s girlfriend.” Harry wasn’t accusing his boyfriend of anything, but he found it hard to understand why it was that he was only referred to as a friend, rather than Draco’s partner. 

Draco smiled at him before leaning over to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Because the world has no right to that information. At least not yet. I have nothing against announcing our relationship to everyone, but I wanted that to be our decision, not one I made alone while being interviewed by the newspaper.” 

Harry returned the smile, nodding as he heard his boyfriend’s logic. “I appreciate that. Now that I think about it, I really wouldn’t have enjoyed Mr. Bagman yelling about our relationship to the entire school.” 

Neville shook his head. “With the way that man seems to thrive on making things more… exciting through means of drama, I am glad for your sake that he didn’t get access to that information.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. Not one of them had a high opinion of Mr. Bagman since he lied about the merfolk, the trial, and what would happen once the hour time limit had passed.

To escape the thoughts about Mr. Bagman and his questionable actions, Harry turned back to the newspaper. The next segment on the next page was the interview with the merperson which Ron was so amused with. A photograph had been taken from above the lake and on top of the judges’ platform. In the dark, murky waters of the lake, something long and dark could be seen, moving without effort along with the waves. It appeared to Harry that the object in the water could just as easily have been a log, had it not been for the occasional glint of empty, dark eyes in the water, accompanied by a flash of white teeth between waves. 

MERPERSON INTERVIEWED ABOUT THE HOSTAGES!

Yesterday, after the second Trimagus Tournament trial, our reporter from The Daily Prophet came across an opportunity to speak to one of the Hogwarts Lake Merfolk tribe. The merperson approached the platform upon which the judges had been standing, and our reporter saw a chance and took it. (Please note that the reporter was speaking under water to a creature who may or may not understand English. The responses have been interpreted by experts based on the idea that the creature understood the reporter. They stuck their head under water, and did their best to communicate. According to experts, the merperson’s responses are likely to mean as follows.)

Do you mind being interviewed by The Daily Prophet? 

Nnnn. → No.

Are you one of the merfolk who live in the Hogwarts lake? 

Mmmsss. → Yes.

Were you involved with the hostage arrangement? (See page 7-8)

Hrrry Llllpn → Helped. 

How were the hostages treated? 

Frrnd → Friendly. 

Do you eat humans? 

(At this point, the merperson engaged in some wild gesturing, they have been interpreted as follows:) Are you aware that you humans are covered in hair? Why would we want to eat that? It would be disgusting! Fish is far better than hairy human meat! 

Do you have anything you want the readers to know about you merfolk? 

(This is also an interpretation based on expert translations through both sound and gestures:) When fishing, only take what you need, or you will damage the water life, seas and the planet.  

Thank you. 

Thhkk! → Thanks!

 

Harry chuckled to himself as he handed the newspaper to Teddy with Hermione’s permission. “That middle part which was translated into ‘helped’ is what the creature called me in the lake. I think that it might have responded with ‘Harry Lupin.’” Harry began filling his breakfast plate, trying to ignore the muscle ache which was paining his legs, back and arms. 

“That is so funny, almost as funny as the image of that person putting their head under water and trying to speak to a merperson.” Ron chuckled to himself. “I would have wanted to see that.” 

“I would have wanted to see the merperson…” Teddy sighed as he studied the unclear photograph of the merperson. 

“Speaking of the lake,” Harry began as he reached for the teapot. “I think that I’m ready to learn how to swim. When it gets warmer, could someone show me how to?” He looked between his friends, and was met by smiling faces. 

“Sounds fun.” Ron grinned, resting his head in his hand. 

“It does.” Hermione agreed, but her expression quickly dropped into a look of horror. “Harry…! You jumped into the lake without knowing how to swim?!” 

Draco’s head snapped towards Harry, who flinched slightly before he laughed. “Well… Professor Snape said that I would be alright. Twice. He said it twice.” 

Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders and stared him deep into his eyes, causing Harry to blush fiercely. “You went into the lake to save me despite not knowing how to swim?” He demanded to know. 

Like a guilty dog, Harry licked his lips, then leaned forward to kiss Draco on the nose, hoping that it would make him forget. 

It didn’t make him forget. 

Harry had to endure a speech about how careless he was as he ate breakfast. He supposed it was a fair reaction, all things considered. 

It took almost a week for the muscle ache in Harry’s limbs to reside, during which he was struggling to even walk up and down the stairs to his lessons. However, after a week had passed, he woke up and found himself almost restored, and ready to join Hermione on her semi-daily walk with Victor. He met up with them in the entrance hall, and they set out together. This time, Harry had made sure that his ears were safe under his hat, as he did not want to re-experience that cold he had gotten from speaking to Delacour out by the Owlery. 

Hermione and Victor were discussing their latest lesson in Dark Arts, but Harry wasn’t paying too much attention to their conversation as he mind was someplace else. The next trial would be held after the final exams, so he had all the time he needed to focus on studying, which was such a strange relief to him that it was a little hard to believe. It almost felt unreal to not have to consider the final trial at all, and it was taking Harry’s mind some time to realise that he didn’t have to worry or feel stressed any longer. He had caught up in every subject, and was doing just fine. It felt very strange to be comparatively free from extracurricular work. What was he to do with all this freedom? 

“I have… Been thinking.” Victor’s voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts. He didn’t per say sound distressed, but the way he was speaking made him appear troubled at least. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances with one another while they waited for their friend to speak up. 

“It might be… unusual for someone my age to only have friends who are fourteen…” Victor sighed. “I am not saying that you are not good friends, but I might be… having a problem…” Victor began tapping his own leg as he walked, the nervous gesture made him appear stressed. “My classmates all doesn’t dare to speak to me since Headmaster Karkaroff treats me with such speciality. They think I am too good for them. Then, most people who talk to me do it because they admire me, or want to date me. It might sound like bragging, but it has happened such many times. But I was thinking, after the second trial, maybe it is not only everyone else, but also me?” He looked to Harry and Hermione, silently waiting for them to respond. 

“You mean that you might not have many friends because you don’t talk to people?” Hermione carefully summarised, trying to figure out what it was her friend was trying to say through his slightly lacking English. 

“Yes… maybe?” Victor agreed. “I did speak to you, Hermione, and that was fine. So maybe the problem isn’t that I can’t have friends, but that I’m not trying hard enough to?” 

“Is there anything about people your own age that worries or troubles you?” Hermione wasn’t known as the most clever witch of her generation based on no credentials. She asked a question which she suspected would be hard for Victor to answer, but one which might help him realise something more about himself. 

“Well… Uh… I…” Victor hesitated as the tapping on his leg got more and more agitated. “Fine!” he finally answered, “yes. Yes. I… I do not want them to think of me as stupid.” 

“Why would they think that you are stupid?” Harry couldn’t help the hints of confusion which seeped into his voice as he questioned Victor’s statement. 

The celebrated Seeker and world renowned Quidditch player aimed a kick at an invisible pebble. “I am really bad in school. I am not good at magic, Headmaster Karkaroff is helping me lot, but my training and the games take up lot of time, and I do not study lot. Even now, I am not study, but just training, sleeping, and teaching Hermione some spells. How am I supposed to talk to my classmates and people my age and not have them realised that I am no good without Quidditch?” 

Harry and Hermione were both quiet for a few seconds, neither of them felt like they were old enough to reassure Victor that there were still people around him who would like him despite the fact that he wasn’t, according to himself, an accomplished mage. 

Victor continued to mutter in the silence that followed, “and my hearing is bad. They will probably think that I am slow because I can not hear well.” 

“But, Victor,” Harry began. “You were chosen as the Durmstrang champion. You wouldn’t have been picked unless you were worthy. No, you couldn’t have been picked.” He insisted. 

Victor snorted and shook his head. “Headmaster Karkaroff might have had something to do with that. Maybe he only put my name in two more times, because he thought I should compete.” 

To this, Harry felt like he could be of at least some assistance. "That's not possible," he began as he smiled reassuringly up at Victor. "You have to put your own name into the goblet, part of why it didn't make a contract with me is probably because somebody else put my name in there." 

Victor didn't respond in anything but a huff, looking like he very much wanted to believe Harry but that it was hard for him to accept that he was actually worthy and hadn't just been picked out of fame. 

“Didn’t you win the lake trial?” Hermione asked, despite already knowing the answer. “Your spell might not have been perfect, but you still won.” 

“I… Guess?” Victor finally looked towards them again. His appearance reminded Harry of Snuffles, even though Snuffles was more expressive than the athlete was. “I had a lot of help from Headmaster though.” He confessed slowly. 

“What does that matter?” Hermione asked with a small smile on her lips. “You still cast the spell in the end.” 

“I guess.” Once again, Victor was forced to yield to logic. 

“Not to mention, Delacour and Diggory both like you. People your age won’t automatically think that you are stupid, especially not because of a disability that isn’t your fault.” Harry remembered how both other champions had adapted to Victor and helped repeat things to him when he couldn’t hear properly. 

For a few seconds, Victor just stared at Harry, then he nodded slowly, as realisation spread upon his face. “You are right… And they are champions. If they think I am worthy too, then it must be so, right?” He looked between the two younger students. 

“Absolutely,” Hermione nodded passionately. 

“There isn’t anybody out there who doesn’t think that you are worthy.” Harry assured him. 

“Then… Maybe I should try to talk to people more?” Victor was speaking more to himself than he was to Harry and Hermione. “Can I… No, I…” He mumbled in English at first, but then began speaking Bulgarian to himself. A realisation appeared to hit him, and he turned towards his two younger friends. “Will you not be upset if I get other friends over you?” 

The two Hogwarts students blinked, then shook their heads with such coordination that it appeared as if they had rehearsed it. 

“Of course not,” Harry assured him. “That isn’t how friendship works. At least not with us.” 

“I am hoping my lessons will continue, as you won’t be here for all that much longer.” Hermione sounded hopeful, but not demanding. 

Victor smiled at them. The smile looked a little strange on him, but mostly because they were unused to seeing him smile. Nonetheless, it made both Hogwarts students happy to see. “I am having fun teaching you.” He said, indirectly promising that he would continue with the lessons. 

“Great!” Hermione’s whole appearance communicated her relief as she looked to her Dark Arts teacher. 

Victor nodded to himself as he turned to face forward. “I think I will start with people in class, maybe even from Durmstrang…” He muttered under his breath, his head held high, and his worries forgotten, at least for the moment. 

Chapter Text

In the time until the final Trimagus Tournament task, Harry found himself becoming a perfectly normal student, for the most part. Whatever was normal for one student didn’t necessarily apply to every student, but Harry attended his classes, did his homework, and spent time with his friends. He also finished a small pair of socks for Dobby for his approximate birthday, which he accepted with gratitude and happiness.

Mr. Moody's outdoors Defense against the Dark Arts had resumed again, much to the joy of Harry and his friends. However, as the lessons had been more or less entirely halted by harsh winter weather conditions, Harry found that he was rather out of practice and not much had changed from his progress half a year ago.

Once or twice, he accompanied Professor Snape back home over the weekend to spend some time with his dad and Snuffles. Snuffles and Remus had become rather good at taking walks together, which had caused some confusion in the community, but Snuffles was quick to win the neighbors over by his intelligence and manners. Thus, it all worked out rather well. 

One day, Harry went on a walk with Remus, Professor Snape and Snuffles. Their overall appearance of Remus’ scarred and tattered self, the ragged huge dog, the strange man who was dressed in too many layers of black for Muggle conventions, and the comparatively normal fourteen years old child caused some gossip which would long since remain in the community. Even when some of the gossipers had turned old and wrinkled, they would still remember that time when the illusive man in his house with the overgrown garden walked his monster dog alongside the man who was dressed in what was possibly a layered dress and a cape in one, and forget that there had been a normal looking boy there as well. Harry would remember the day as Sunday. Just a normal Sunday when he took a walk with his family. 

Harry’s relationship with Draco was going great as well. The two of them really hadn’t changed a lot since they started dating, and Harry found that to be rather comfortable. They could still talk about everything, would still sleep in the same bed, but every now and then, they would kiss each other. Either on the lips, cheeks, hands or head. Draco very much enjoyed kissing Harry’s forehead or on top of his head, while Harry liked kissing Draco’s cheeks or nose. Harry had felt a little self conscious at first when Draco brushed his bangs aside and kissed his forehead, since it put his scar on stark display. However, Draco always put the hair back over the scar again, and Harry did so enjoy his usually cold fingertips gently brushing against a place which nobody else was allowed to touch. 

The group of friends had asked Colin Creevy to take a photograph of them, which he had been very happy to do. After about a week, they had all gotten a copy of the picture, and while it wasn’t a perfect one by any means of the word, as none of the mages was used to stagnant pictures of themselves, they had all thanked Creevy. He had been paid one combined galleon for his work, and had been very satisfied. 

Draco had asked for a photograph of only Harry, which Creevy had taken with Harry’s permission. To Creevy’s delight, he had been paid an entire galleon more for just his work with Harry. In return for his photograph, Harry got a normal, moving picture from Draco, which had been taken during his time at home during the winter break. It showed Draco in his Yule Ball outfit, complete with the same makeup. Harry had placed in his blood-locked box which he had gotten to keep from Mr. Moody’s lesson. He checked every now and then to make sure that it was still there. Inside the box, he also kept the photo of him and his friends, but the photo of Draco felt more special, as he couldn’t just ask Creevy for another copy. 

Hermione continued her lessons with Victor, who was slowly but steadily starting to make friends his own age. It was a long process as he had a lot of things to overcome in regards to his own worries, but he was doing fine, all things considered. There were times when Victor’s fame would get in his way, and there were people who treated him just the way which he had feared. However, after a bit of time he managed to find people who wouldn’t, and he accepted that not everyone out there was worth the effort.

Hermione used the Room of Requirements to practice some of her Dark Arts spells, but she had outright refused to practice spells which would harm another person or creature physically or mentally. She was mostly focused on certain potions, and especially ones to do with poison. She was very careful and only worked with her things at the desk which the room had provided for her. She was especially focused on venom based Dark Arts, as she found that to be a good first step in learning how to respond to an array of poisons and curses which used generally toxic components. 

When asked, she summarised that she was learning a lot of curses and rituals, many of which had to do with blood. Another mission of hers was to learn about the ritual which had almost caused Ron’s body to be overtaken by Tom Riddle’s ghost, but she didn’t speak to Ron about that. All in all, she was very absorbed with Dark Arts, but not enough to forget her other subjects. Instead, Hermione appeared overall a lot more cheerful and energised, once she had found a hobby she felt truly engrossed in. Practicing her hobby and learning about it felt different from schoolwork, and how she had spent mostly all her free time studying in the past. A passion helped her feel like she was getting breaks from her studies while simultaneously making her feel like she was accomplishing something. All in all, she was doing well, and nothing had changed about her except for the fact that she could now perform spells which no other Hogwarts student could. Then again, that was probably not too different to how she had been before she got interested in Dark Arts. 

One day she carefully approached Harry to ask about basilisk venom and if he thought that it would maybe be possible to retrieve some from Secrets. Feeling that he had sort of forgotten Secrets all year, Harry agreed, if only to go visit the Chamber of Secrets and his large basilisk friend again. Of course, Secrets was happy to be visited by her perceived Master, and happy to oblige with giving Harry some venom. 

Thus Harry had to learn how to extract venom from a snake, something he learnt by asking Professor Snape. The man didn't ask any questions about his supposed need for basilisk venom, and Harry assumed that to be because of his mind reading, which probably meant that he didn't disapprove of Hermione's practices. The method generally was through attaching a thicker cloth to the opening of glass container, and thus the giant snake creature would bite through the cloth, and her body would naturally release some venom into the jar, just the way it would if she would bite a prey. At first, he had thought to help Secrets on his own, since she was willing to simply keep her mouth open for him, but the highly venomous sharp daggers of teeth proved to not be something he felt ready exploring when he could not rely on his eyesight. Thus, in the end, he left a wide jar with cloth hovering in the air for Secrets to carefully bite into on her own. After a few tries, Secrets happily reported back to her Master that she had managed to bite into the small object. 

The weather was slowly improving into spring, which allowed the Quidditch players to start flying again. Draco brought Neville and Ron with him to the field whenever they had the time, and coached them for the positions that he thought would suit them the best. Ginny learnt about them playing Quidditch on their own, and demanded to be allowed to join. With Ginny came other people from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.  

Diggory appeared to leap at the opportunity to escape from his duties as a champion, and brought the Hufflepuff team with him to play for fun. His girlfriend Chang joined in, which brought the Ravenclaw team to the Quidditch field as well. 

Soon enough, the Slytherin team heard about the arrangement, but it took them a little longer to dare join, since they usually weren’t welcomed by the other teams since that incident with the brooms brought to them by Lucius Malfoy. In fact, it took until Victor and Delacour learned about the Quidditch teams playing together, and asked to join with a collection of players from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, that the Slytherin team felt like they would no longer be chased away if they asked to join. 

Thus, without any initiation from adults, the Hogwarts Quidditch teams mixed together with the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons teams on the playing field to fly and train together. This arrangement suited Draco excellently, who, for the first time, was allowed to play on the same team as his Gryffindor friends on a real arena. Ron, in turn, got the chance to play on the same team as his idol, which brought him great joy. Even if he had by no means befriended Victor, he tried to be respectful and treat the other the way he wanted to be treated, instead of making him uncomfortable with acting too much in his face or as a fan, and it was working out quite well. 

The various teams played around with the rules and the number of people in their teams, creating many versions of Quidditch so that they could all play and train. These games ranged from four teams on one field, with goal rings created for every one of those teams, to gigantic teams facing off against one another in increasing chaos. Someone thought of a game with a huge, explosion proof balloon, which the players tried to move around by means of wind without touching it with their bodies. The goal was to get it to the other side of the field, and if a player touched or was touched by the balloon, they were out. 

It quickly became a favorite activity of bored people to come and watch the crazy Quidditch players and see what new rules they came up with. Teddy, for one, loved the balloon game, especially when the balloon bounced off someone and that person had to accept defeat. 

“Something about losing because a balloon softly bonked you in the face,” Teddy said, “is just the absolute height of comedy.” 

Teddy managed to pass the Weasley twins’ test, and had been working together with them on their inventions since the beginning of March. He would sometimes get very absorbed with his work, and end up focusing on it instead of his schoolwork. This proved to become enough of a problem that Professor Snape had to talk to him about his grades. Teddy had been quite upset about it, but after meeting with the Head of the Slytherin House, he had returned with a schedule which the two of them had constructed to allow for both studies and his personal work. At first, Teddy had struggled with not working late into the night, feeling as if he wasn’t doing enough, but as time was passing, he was becoming better and better at keeping a consistent schedule which didn’t harm the rest of his daily life. 

The Weasley twins had opened up to him ever so slightly, and were including and consulting him in most of the things which they were constructing or thinking of constructing. They had many ideas, and could do plenty with magic, but for the things which needed actual metal work on them, Teddy knew more than they did. 

It appeared that the incident with the pink Snuffles had inspired the twins to try and create a line of joke products which changed a person’s hair color to a surprise color. So far, they had managed to make the color pink work, but they were struggling with both their blue and green hues, as they weren’t quite pigmented enough to work on darker hair. They could do red, but as Teddy said to Lovegood once she asked about it, “anyone can do red. Red is easy.” 

When Neville wasn’t busy with Quidditch, which he had quite come to enjoy through the guidance of Draco and the enthusiasm of the Weasleys, he was taking extra lessons with Professor Dumbledore to prepare him for the special exams which Neville would take. A lot of the exams were designed for external magic practice, and this year, through the influence of their international exchange with Beauxbatons, many exams would be modified to suit different types of students, as well as offer prolonged sittings for people with dyslexia or concentration issues, among others. Neville wasn’t the only one who was struggling with using external magic, and certain students struggled with other conditions, disabilities, or needed some extra help for different reasons. Among these was Dennis Creevy, whose rheumatism provided problems in both magic and academic aspects. 

When Neville told his friends about the special exams, Ron had asked what dyslexia was. Upon being told what it was, he sat in shocked silence for almost a minute, then asked in a small voice if not everyone had trouble with b, d, p and q. After some more careful questioning, Ron admitted that it was a possibility that he had dyslexia. 

After some encouragement from his friends, Ron dared bringing up his issue with Professor McGonagall, and returned very happy since he had been given permission to join the test group of students with special needs. Ron was especially happy since this meant that if this effort worked out in favor for the students, the OWL exams would likely be modified to allow students like him more time. 

Luna Lovegood drifted in and out of their group, like a confused butterfly. As spring turned into summer, she came to spend more and more time with them, and even followed them to the Quidditch arena. At first, nobody thought all that much about it, but the more Lovegood attached herself to their group, the more Harry came to consider the possibility that she was using them as a shield against the world. He remembered the way that Ron had appeared when he was being hounded by the Gryffindor students during last year, and he was reminded of his friend’s fears in Lovegood whenever Ravenclaw students approached their group. She would always have a copy of her dad’s newspaper ready to hide in, and would sometimes duck behind them when she saw students from her year of House. 

After speaking with his friends, he confirmed that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Lovegood's behavior. They all cared about Lovegood to at least some varying degrees and did worry about her. Ron especially so as he felt it all to relatable to fear the people of his own House and year, even if that hadn't been a problem for about a year now. Ron asked Ginny about Lovegood and was told directly that she was weird, at least according to Ginny. “She’s impossible to talk to or work with, and during Potions last week, she set all the tailless salamanders loose, causing such a big commotion that the class had to be stopped for, like, fifteen minutes. Another time, she ignored Professor Sprout, and began re-planting all the weed that the other students had pulled out.” 

Ginny wasn’t alone in her opinion, at least not according to herself. They didn’t know any other third year students, so their list of people to ask stopped with Ginny. Yet, Harry was often working with Lovegood in Muggle Studies, and he could confirm that she had a tendency to not work if she didn’t know the answer, or else make the most far-fetched story up rather than admit that there was something she didn’t know. Harry only had to deal with this behavior in one class, but he understood that it must be highly frustrating to deal with following class after class. In truth, it wasn’t hard to see how Lovegood could become very tiresome very quickly when one was asked to do more than just be around her. 

Harry very carefully tried to bring up the topic of bullying to Lovegood, namely by asking if she was experiencing bullying. He knew that she was, but it wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable asking her about directly. Any attempts to bring the subject up was hastily halted by Lovegood herself, who refused to admit to herself that she was hurting, and quickly started telling tales of creatures and strange unknown magic which most people were supposedly unaware of. It reached the point where Harry gave up asking, and simply allowed the girl to continue with her own delusions in favor of facing the fact that she wasn’t being treated right. He and his friends reasoned that if all Lovegood wanted to do was hide out with them and not speak about her problems, then they couldn’t force her to do otherwise. 

Harry asked Remus about the situation with Lovegood during one of his weekend visits, and Remus told him that they, as teenagers, really should be careful with pushing the younger girl too far with their questions. However well meaning they were, there were things which couldn’t be changed based on forcing someone to admit to something they weren’t ready to talk about yet. 

By the middle of June the days of the final Exams of the year arrived, and for almost a week, the students slowly and painstakingly worked their way through them, with some exceptions where the exams weren’t that exhausting for all of them. It felt to Harry and his friends like the weekend would never come, and yet it did. The sun, which had almost appeared to be mocking them during the exams, now shone welcomingly over the lake. The next day would see the third and final trial, but for today, it was just Friday. 

The time had come for Harry to learn how to swim, the group couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the day and evening than in the lukewarm water of the lake. They weren’t alone in that idea, as the bathing area had some people playing by the bridges. 

The Prefects hosted a small bathing suit rental station, which Harry had been unaware of until Ron had pointed it out. The group went to pay for sets of swimming trunks and bathing suits, as the rental worked in a way which had the students pay for the swimming clothes, and then had their money handed back to them upon returning the borrowed clothes. The Prefects kept a list of all the people who had rented swimwear for the day, and would politely find any person who didn’t return the rented gear by the end of the day.

There was a variety of swimming clothes in various different shapes, there was a big collection of somewhat old fashioned clothes which had shorts and sleeves, but there was nothing which consisted out of a two piece set. If someone wanted a pair of trunks to their bathing suit, they would have to pay more. Everyone of their group ended up picking something from the old fashioned bathing clothes, with the exception of Ron and Neville, who both picked a pair of trunks each. Both Hermione and Teddy were happy that they didn’t have to go swimming in something they weren’t comfortable in. 

They all changed in their own dormitories, but then met up again in the entrance hall, having brought their own towels with them. Together, the excited group headed towards the designated swimming area of the lake, which was located behind the school, compared to where the second trial had been held. 

To Harry’s surprise, they all saw Hagrid by the water, where he was seated slightly to the side on a rock which overlooked the small bay area. Next to him sat Goyle, who looked as depressed as he always did after the exams. By Goyle’s feet, Fang the dog was snoozing in the sand, unaware or uncaring about the fact that his jowls were slowly getting filled with sand. Every now and then, Goyle would scratch the dog’s head. It was evident that Hagrid was acting as the lifeguard, and he was keeping a vigilant but not intrusive eye on the swimmers. 

“Hello! Goyle!” Harry waved towards his fellow Slytherin student. 

Goyle looked up, then forced a small smile. “Hi. Are you all going swimming?” 

“We’re teaching Harry.” Ron patted Harry on the back. “Finally something I know that he doesn’t!” He chuckled. 

“You’re in luck, the water is warm.” Hagrid grinned at them in a highly friendly manner. “Since it’s your first time, don’t leave the bay. It has been roped off, but if you end up outside of it, don’t swim towards the seaweed forest. That’s where all the things are.” 

“But the bay is safe, right?” Hermione glanced across the water, towards the roped off area. 

“Sometimes a merperson comes here in confusion, but they usually don’t stay long. Saw one pass by this morning.” Hagrid explained. “Like the interview said, they don’t eat people. Too much hair.” 

Teddy and Ron were already by the water, and headed towards the bridges to jump head first. Ron’s idea about teaching Harry to swim was clearly not more important to him than getting into the water before his friend. 

Harry, Draco, Hermione and Neville entered a little more carefully after inviting Goyle to come join them later if he wanted to. The water was colder than Harry had expected from Hagrid’s statement, but once he was carefully sitting in the water, letting the waves wash over him, he got used to the temperature. 

“So… what is the first step of swimming?” Harry looked around at his three friends, who were also calmly sitting about, getting used to the water. 

“Not sinking.” Neville joked, earning a small splash of water from Harry in return for his obvious statement. “No, but, we should teach you to float first.” 

Harry nodded, “that sounds like a plan. When I jumped into the lake last time, I sort of sank like a rock, which isn’t ideal, I would think?” 

“No,” Hermione agreed. “That is not ideal.” 

Thus, Harry was taught how to float, Draco held his arm under Harry’s neck so that he could relax back against it, and lifted Harry’s body up with his other arm to get him into a good floating position. Neville and Hermione did their best to help explain to Harry how he was supposed to float, while Ron and Teddy played in the water. 

After Harry had figured out how to float, they taught him how to swim. Harry thought that this part would be easy, but it turned out that swimming was completely different when one was not halfway mutated into a sea beast. The actions which had brought him so far with his webbed feet barely got him anywhere when he kicked with his legs. However, it had the side effect of accidentally drenching Neville, who had been standing behind Harry, much to Harry’s embarrassment and Neville’s amusement. 

The swimming lessons continued for a while, with Harry’s three teachers replacing one another whenever they got tired. Harry felt like he was getting a hang of things, when he heard Hagrid’s loud, powerful voice echo over the lake. 

“There is a merperson coming at you, folks! Its not going to hurt you, just leave it be and it will head back home. Don’t scream and by Dumbledore don’t try and hit it. If you get up out of the water, don’t do it like a drowning cow.” 

People began to search for the merperson in the somewhat unclear water, and found that there was no problem whatsoever in finding the long, brown body of the creature as it slowly made its way over towards the shore. Harry and his friends remained where they were, as Harry rubbed some water out of his eyes. He put his glasses back on and found that the merperson was floating pretty close by, still under the water. 

“Is that your friend?” Teddy sounded hopeful as he looked to Harry. He was close enough that he didn’t have to scream, which was good, as the creature appeared to remain calm. 

“I’ll check, I guess?” Harry took a deep breath and lowered down into the water. While still holding his breath, Harry tried to mimic the song that he had learned from his friend. “Brrrr. Brrr. Brr.” He quickly learnt that he wasn’t very good at holding his breath, and had to resurface, but not before he saw the creature roll around in the water. 

Harry broke through the surface and took a few deep gulps of air. “It’s them alright.” He couldn’t help but grin as he reported his newly learnt information to his friends. 

The merperson swam up to Harry and then pushed its head up over the water. Harry heard some of his friends gasp softly with surprise as they saw the bald, soft, round head with the huge eyes and the rows of teeth surface. In the light of the day, Harry could see two small holes on either side of its head, which he assumed to be ears. 

“Hrryy Llppn.” The creature’s voice was horrible to listen to above water, but it seemed to be doing comparatively fine, since its gills were still under water. Harry smiled as he watched the merperson’s tail sway from side to side, taking no consideration for the people around it. 

“Hi,” said Harry, before he reached out to wave. 

The wave earned a giggle before the creature went underwater again, then came back. Just like Harry had done to breathe, except that the merperson was going the other way. “Whht dnng?” 

Harry assumed that to mean ‘what are you doing?’ “My friends are teaching me how to swim. Uh, swimming.” Harry mimicked swimming with his hands. 

“Frrnns.” The creature looked around at the people who had hesitantly gathered around it, studying them all with unblinking, giant eyes which reflected them all with surprising clarity. It stared at Draco and Hermione for a little longer, then dived back into the water. When it came back, it stated “Hsstnng.” 

“Yes, they were hostages.” Harry agreed, nodding his head as the creature dived down and began swimming between and around their legs. Harry shuddered as the wet, giant body stroked against his hairy legs. The creature was slimy and soft in a way which snakes were not. He had assumed that his friend would feel similar to Secrets the Basilisk, but it was as far from that as it could be while still having a similar shape. 

The mercreature then tackled Ron out of seemingly nowhere, knocking him fully into the water. He disappeared without having the chance to make a noise. 

“Ron!” Hermione gasped, then covered her mouth. She worried that if she screamed, the creature might be startled and hurt Ron. 

It was hard to see what was happening underwater, but the merperson appeared to cling to Ron in the water, and was holding on to his face. None of them knew what to do about the situation. Just as Teddy made up his mind to run to Hagrid for help, Ron was pushed up to the surface, followed by the merperson, whose hands were seemingly busy stroking his hair. 

Ron coughed, but remained low in the water. Everyone’s worried eyes rested on him, but Ron simply shook his head. “It says I have pretty hair. I don’t think it has seen red hair before.” 

The creature cooed as it continued to stroke over Ron’s now flat hair. “Prrrttyy.” 

Draco suddenly chuckled, before he hurriedly tried to cover up the fact that he had laughed. “Say, Ronald, how does it feel to be taken hostage by a merperson?” 

His words caused the rest of the group to start chuckling, giggling, and in Neville’s case, wheezing. 

Ron tried to hold back his laughter but failed. “Slimy. Is there any champion here to rescue me?” He looked up at them with hopeful eyes as the merperson rested against his back, continuing to pet him like he was the most beautiful of pets. 

“As your best friend,” Teddy began, “I would save you, but you have been recruited by both the cat goblin army, and now this eel person. You are clearly meant to be with your kind, I shall not hinder your progress towards your true self.” He somehow managed to finish the sentence, despite being distracted by his own and Hermione’s giggles. 

“Well then, I must bid thee farewell.” Ron sank back into the water, much to the excitement of the merperson, who now got to pet his flowing hair instead of the wet curtains that hung off his head when he was above water. 

The rest of the evening was spent with the merperson in the water, as Ron and Teddy found ways to play with them. They threw a stick between themselves, and the creature happily dashed between them, trying to catch it. 

Harry’s swimming lessons continued, but soon enough, it was only him and Hermione practising, as the rest got distracted by the unique and possible only chance to play and communicate with a real merperson. 

When they finally did get up, Harry had learnt how to sort of swim, and he had rather gotten the hang of floating. They said goodbye to the merperson, who waved above water and then swam off, jumping over the roped off part as if to show off to them, and disappeared. 

The setting sun followed the group of friends as they made their way back to the Hogwarts castle, painting the sky in hues of red, pink and orange, and coloring the water of the lake. The castle appeared big and friendly as the sun reflected off the windows and the pale castle walls. It was a very peaceful evening, one which Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Teddy would remember fondly for many years to come. Especially Hermione and Teddy, who had both experienced the joy of playing in the water with their friends without feeling self conscious of their bodies, for the first time. 

Chapter Text

“It’s like a carnival outside!” Teddy and Ron sat down by the Slytherin table, both of them grinning from ear to ear, their eyes bright with excitement and joy. “The Ministry is going all out with this final trial, it’s never been that big outside.” Teddy continued, his words hurried from his lips, as if his excitement made him unable to speak at any other pace than fast. 

The group and Lovegood were eating brunch, but the gossip in the Great Hall was spreading about how there were stands being raised and food being cooked outside, as all manners of people gathered and prepared for the Tournament. The third and final trial would be held in the evening, the Trimagus arrangers had been working on the giant hedge maze which was spreading from behind the Quidditch arena and over the grasslands beyond, towards the Forbidden Forest. The students had all been asked to stay away from the preparations, but some had nonetheless approached and learned that they appeared to be setting up some manner of stands which faced three mirrors, beyond which the maze spread out. There were a lot of rumors about what was going to be placed in the maze, but none of the students knew anything concrete. 

As the trial was going to be held comparatively late, Harry and the champions had been asked to assemble at around five, and the trial itself had been scheduled to start at seven. The observers, the audience, and the visitors would be let in by twelve, which was in about an hour. Thus, the stalls were working hard to set up the food stands, the games, and in some cases, put their wares up for sale. There were rumors that the Ministry was planning a firework display, and a band of musicians had been hired, and a space built for them in the stands. It was rumored that Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, would attend the event. 

Harry had been told that the champions would enter the maze, and that he was supposed to forfeit in front of the judges, and then he could join the audience. He had spoken to his dad and friends, and the idea was for them to get a visible place to make it easy for Harry to join them. Remus and Snuffles would come later that day, as neither was too excited about the prospect of walking around while fearing to run into Mr. Crouch. They had also decided against staying with Professor Snape, as he was very busy preparing for the final trial. Harry felt rather good about the arrangements. Further, he couldn’t help but feel slightly excited about the prospect of finally seeing part of the Trimagus Tournament for himself. As a friend of Victor, and at least an acquaintance of Delacour, he wanted to cheer them on while seeing their performances. 

“Fred and George are setting up their own stand, they got permission from Professor Dumbledore,” Teddy continued to babble, too excited to start eating. “They asked me to come help later, as Fred wants to go on a date with Johnson. I’m supposed to start working at five, but I have a bunch of time until then.” 

“I don’t believe anyone has told me who Johnson is?” Neville looked between his friends, wondering if he was the only person who couldn’t immediately connect the name with a face. 

“She’s Fred’s girlfriend, sort of? Her full name is Angelina Johnson.” Ron forced a muffin towards his best friend to stop the other from talking and prompt him to start eating. “They went to the Yule Ball together, and Fred has been trying to get her to date him. I’m not sure how that is going, but she had caused a little bit of a stir between Fred and George. George is kind of annoyed that Fred isn’t taking their business as seriously as him, it’s… It feels kind of strange, I’ve never really heard them fight before. Well, I guess that they weren’t really fighting, but they usually agree on everything.” Ron shook his head, as if to shake something off. “I feel like I’m gossiping about my own family, sorry if that was too much information.” 

“I would also be upset if I was trying to start a business and my partner was not as committed as I.” Draco agreed as he sipped some tea with passive interest. He was evidently not interested in the gossip, but he sympathised with George Weasley’s predicament. 

“It’s giving me a chance to prove that I’m worthy of being their business partner!” Teddy had finished his muffin, and was reaching for a piece of bread. “So I’m excited. We will be selling some of my jumping animals, I managed to complete a set of seven in total. I wanted to make ten, but, well, here we are…” He began to sound a little disappointed, but he quickly shook his head to shake his negative thoughts away.  “Either way, it’s going to be great!” 

“I’m a little worried about the crowd, but I am still excited about the stalls.” Harry smiled to himself, wondering if he would be able to find the one which had sold those corn dogs which Wood had been eating. They had looked quite tasty. As he thought of Wood, he remembered that he had been asked to introduce them to Victor. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to go about that, but he would figure it out. Wood and Flint might not even come for the final trial. Harry would think about the details later. 

“Some of those stalls have some really cheap snacks and candy,” Ron, who like Harry didn’t have any economy worth speaking of, grinned at him. “In February, there was this stand that had the most amazing sugar snail sculptures. You have to see them.” 

“There are a bunch of games too,” Neville joined into the excitement, mostly speaking to Harry. “You can play darts, throw rings… Whack frogs. Not real ones, of course!” He added in a hurry. “Oh, and you can win prizes by playing.” 

“And you can have your photograph taken too.” Lovegood’s soft voice entered the conversation, although she herself appeared to be as distant as ever. 

Harry began to realise that the group wasn’t only talking to him, but to Draco and Hermione as well. He glanced at his two friends, who both were listening and nodding to the information which they had been given. “Have you not been to the stalls?” Harry asked, leaning forward so that he could see Hermione beyond Draco as well. 

“Oh, well, my dad took me to a carnival once or twice, but since he is a dentist, he was mostly complaining about all the sugary food.” Hermione leaned forward to address Harry. “I had fun, but I can mostly only remember the complaining, since I wasn’t allowed to eat any candy or cotton candy. What I mean to say is, uh… no, I haven’t been to these stalls.” 

“Those stalls appear rather…” Draco considered his words before finally settling on something closer to his perceived truth. “Low standard entertainment. I find it hard to think of being crammed into a small space with a collection of people, alongside unhealthy, fried food and simple games as being… charming. Or entertaining.” When he spoke, there could be no doubt that Draco hadn’t grown up similarly to anyone else around the table. 

“Well, it becomes fun when you are with friends, you aristocrat fopp.” Ron laughed at him, clearly not upset. “You will see, and besides, you don’t actually have to eat any of the food.” 

“Also, the games become really fun when you compete against one another,” Teddy assured Draco. 

“Not to mention that you get to go with your boyfriend.” Neville added, giving Draco a friendly wink. 

Draco glanced at Harry, before he reached out to squeeze his hand. Harry quickly laced their fingers together, and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand back. 

“I suppose, when you phrase it like that, it does sound at the very least a little entertaining,” Draco concluded.

The stalls were unlike anything Harry had seen before. They appeared to be little islands of color, food and fun, contrasted against a sea of normalness. The sun was still high in the sky when Harry and his friends joined the steady stream of people who were floating about the green grass sea and travelled from stall island to stall island. Harry noted that the stalls, with their one opening towards the path leading towards the Quidditch arena and the stands and the maze beyond it, had some manner of enchanted lights on top of them. He couldn’t help but imagine how beautiful these stands would be when it had gotten darker, leading a path of light towards the area of the last trial.

From some of the stalls came interesting scents, as different food mixed together to blend into the scent which was most easily identified as carnival food. Sugary, sweet scents mixed with drying of dough, which had been shaped into all manners of conventional and non-conventional shapes. Somewhere, meat and vegetables were being grilled over open fires, adding to the scent of the many others. To Harry’s personal delight, he found no trouble locating the stall which sold the corn dogs that he was so interested in trying.

Mixed between the food stalls were stalls for games, these were the most crowded, and the most colorful ones. Their openings were like windows into another world, where strange animals and beasts came alive on wooden plates, and curious prices could be won by playing the games. Just like his friends had said, there were plenty of games to play, ring tosses, whack-a-toad, and some luck based ones. 

One of the stalls stood out in that it was a fortune telling tent which was run by Professor Trelawney. The tent was shaped like a box, with a galaxy pattern on the outside, and a star covered drapery keeping the entrance covered. A small line had formed outside of the tent, and was snaking backwards so as to not take up space on the crowded path. As his friends stopped by a stall to play a ring tossing game, Harry studied the tent. He noticed as Chang came bouncing out and ran over to her friends. He wasn’t trying to listen in on the conversation, but Chang was rather loud. 

“She told me that me and Ced will have a wonderful, long life together! And that my mom’s star dress will fit me for many years to come!” 

Her comment was answered by a collection of giggles, as the group of friends began walking off together, chattering about how beautiful that star dress had been. 

“And that’s how you toss a ring!” 

Ron grinned at Teddy, Hermione and Neville as they joined up with Harry, Draco and Lovegood who stood a little to the side so as to not be in the middle of the crowded path. Draco had grabbed Harry’s hand when they approached the carnival and hadn’t let go since. 

“And that is what you won?” Draco studied the thing in Ron’s hand. 

“Yeah, it’s a food token! I can hand it in at any place with that round symbol on it and get something for free. Not anything expensive, of course, but something nonetheless.” Ron pointed at the stall on the opposite side of the path. 

Harry turned to look, and found that there was indeed a round white mark upon the wall next to the window in the opposite stand. 

“They don’t do that at Muggle carnivals.” Hermione nodded approvingly at the token. 

“I wanna go throw balls at the Death Eaters!” Teddy grabbed Ron’s arm, almost making him drop his token. He was pointing to a stall further down that had a collection of Death Eater mask replicas on sticks, which moved around while the players tried to hit them with colorful balls. 

Harry found the stall to perhaps be a little tasteless, but he understood that it was a way of parodying and ridiculing the Death Eaters to try and make them less terrifying, which might altogether be needed. At least none of the stalls did the same thing with werewolves, which Harry found relieving, as those would have been examples of needlessly targeting a vulnerable minority. 

Harry and Draco hung back once more as the other five played. Teddy was throwing balls with all his might, so much so that Harry assumed that he was taking out some of his aggression towards his dad on the crudely drawn Death Eaters. Teddy and Ron ended up fighting for the first spot, but Ron’s skill couldn’t beat Teddy’s resentment towards his parent. Neville came in third, as he had been trained by Draco to be decently good at aiming through Quidditch practice. Hermione came last, and Lovegood came definite last, as she accidentally hit the owner of the stall. 

Teddy picked a food token as his prize, and the group joined together again. 

This time, Lovegood spoke up first. “There is a photograph booth over there, can we take a picture together?” She looked so hopeful that nobody found it in their heart to object. 

“Hermione!” Victor’s voice cut through the buzz of the crowd, which parted for him, and then parted far more as they noticed that Victor was accompanied by the other two champions, and Gabrielle Delacour, who was being pushed by her sibling. 

“Hello!” Hermione called back and waved happily as the four other people approached. “I thought you weren’t going to visit the stalls, how nice to see you.” 

“We weren’t planning on it, but Gabrielle wanted to.” Diggory greeted them all with a shining white and well practiced smile. “But both my dad and Fleur’s family arrived a little early. None of them wanted to join the carnival, but Gabrielle did. Rather than having Fleur be alone out here with their sister, we thought that we could all share the attention.” 

“One makes a spectacle, three commands respect.” Delacour laughed as they rested against their sister’s wheelchair, which was currently hovering over the ground. The wheelchair was larger, and the soft blue of the chair was contrasted with beautiful pink flowers which covered the chair. 

“Lupin! Malfoy!” Gabrielle Delacour greeted Harry and Draco, she continued to say something in French as she reached out her hands towards them. 

As Draco answered her, they each took one hand each. Harry shook the left one while his boyfriend politely kissed the right. 

“What are you up to?” Diggory asked the group, more out of politeness than actual familiarity. 

“We are taking a photograph together.” Neville pointed over his shoulder at the tent which hosted the photography studio. Outside it was a large sign boldly proclaiming ‘Photographs, 5 sickles per picture.’ 

Gabrielle Delacour saw Neville pointing at the sign and clapped her hands with excitement. She spoke in French, leaving Draco and her sibling to translate for the rest. 

“She wants us all to take a picture together.” 

“Even… us?” Teddy spoke for himself, Ron, Neville and Lovegood, all of whom appeared to feel a little left out. 

“Everyone!” The girl cheered. 

“Cedric!” A happy voice joined in with the cheering as Chang found her boyfriend and quickly attached herself to his arm. “You came! That’s so nice! Listen, listen, Marie’s girlfriend just won her the cutest stuffed animal in that stall over there!” She pointed, causing everyone to glance towards the way she was pointing. 

“Hi, Cho,” Diggory wrapped his arm around her and hugged her, looking happy to have his girlfriend on his arm. “That’s great for Marie, she loves stuffed animals, right?” 

Chang looked expectantly at her boyfriend, but he didn’t continue speaking. “Yes, she does. Isn’t it romantic to win something for someone you like?” 

“Definitely.” Diggory nodded. “Say, Cho, we’re all taking a photograph together, do you want to join?” 

The teenager looked slightly disappointed as Diggory still didn’t understand what she wanted him to do. “All of you?” She asked, looking around at the people who had gathered in a circle around Gabrielle Delacour’s wheelchair. “Sure, why not. You people get in line and I will go tell my friends where I’m heading.” 

“No problem, see you in a bit.” Diggory waved her off with a soft smile on his face. 

Harry couldn’t help but wonder why Chang hadn’t just told her boyfriend that she wanted him to try and win a stuffed animal for her. Diggory didn’t appear to be understanding the hints. It seemed to Harry to be a much more workable approach to simply ask him to win her something, if that was what she wanted, rather than just hinting on it. 

Thus it came to be that a very large group of people gathered inside the small photography tent, and had to be arranged into rows for their picture. The photographer first placed the wheelchair bound girl on the side of the group, but everyone objected as one, and began arranging themselves around the girl who had wanted their photograph taken. After a lot of moving around and a slight bit of pushing, they somehow ended up cramming Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Teddy, Lovegood, Victor, Diggory, Chang and the two Delacours into one picture. The shorter people had to sit on the floor, but it was worth it in the end when Harry held onto the photography and knew that it was going into his blood-locked treasure box. 

Delacour chuckled over how much they, Gabrielle and Draco looked related as they saw the photograph. 

Victor appeared very satisfied with the picture as he carefully placed his copy into the inner pocket of his thin summer coat for safekeeping. They had taken an array of photos so everyone who wanted one could have a copy of their own.

“Oh burning broomsticks, it's him!” 

The group was exiting the tent when the loud voice accidentally travelled all the way to them. The person who had spoken was Wood, who had indeed returned with his boyfriend to see the final trial and the famous Quidditch player who was Victor Krum. When Wood had seen Victor emerge from the photography tent, he had grabbed onto his partner so hard that Flint had almost dropped his ice cream. 

Victor had heard nothing, despite the loudness of Wood’s voice. 

“You’re… Don’t scream like that…” Flint softly scolded his boyfriend. “I see him. He’s a person, not an object to gawk at. Do calm down.” 

In truth, Harry had felt hesitant to introduce Flint and Wood to Victor as he had been rather sure that at least Wood would be the type of person who would make Victor uncomfortable. Still, Flint’s calm response, and the immediate yielding of the fire cracker of a man, made Harry feel like it might not be such a bad idea to at least introduce them. 

Thus, Harry carefully pulled on Victor’s sleeve so that the champion from Durmstrang could bend down and listen to Harry. Harry explained the situation, and pointed towards the former Quidditch team captains, asking if Victor would mind greeting them. After some slight hesitation, Victor agreed, and the two of them broke from the group to meet the Quidditch boyfriends. 

The conversation was a little awkward at first, but while Wood was excited, Flint was calm. Harry could tell that Victor was more comfortable with Flint, but once he realised that Wood’s passion wasn’t aimed at him, but Quidditch as a game, he became more comfortable. It didn’t take that long until Harry could excuse himself and return to his friend group, without leaving Victor in an uncomfortable situation as he seemed to be getting along really well with Flint in particular. 

Harry returned just in time to say goodbye to Teddy, as he hurried off to join George at the Weasley stall. It was still half an hour left until the clock struck five, but he was excited about work and wanted to show himself off as a good and dedicated worker. 

As Teddy left, Chang finally managed to ask her boyfriend to try and win her a stuffed animal. Once she directly asked it of Diggory, he didn’t object in the least, and left with her to try and win a duck stuffed animal for her. It seemed that communication was indeed the far easier path to achieve her desired goals. 

As Diggory was winning what seemed to be a soft large duck, Harry turned to his friends. “Dad and Snuffles should probably be here by now. The arrangers told the parents to meet in the entrance hall, according to dad, I was thinking of going to meet him before I have to join the champions’ tent.” 

“You are heading to the entrance hall?” Delacour turned towards Harry, who confirmed their question with a nod. “Would you mind some company? I want to leave… leaf? No, leave, Gabi with our parents.” 

“I don’t mind the company at all.” Harry smiled at them before looking over towards his friends, especially towards Draco. “I was hoping that you might want to meet up with me, dad and Snuffles later at the champions tent? I don’t think dad will appreciate being lost all alone at the carnival.” 

“I’ll come along now, if you don’t mind?” Draco reclaimed possession of Harry’s hand. “I’ve seen enough of these stalls.” 

“Well, see you later then, both of you.” Ron concluded, as most of their friends wanted to enjoy the carnival a little more before leaving. 

“See you.” Draco and Harry spoke as one. 

As the four of them began to leave, Gabrielle Delacour said something to Draco in French, which caused him to chuckle softly. 

“I don’t need to do that.” Draco assured her, still smiling. 

Harry leaned over to whisper to his boyfriend once he was sure that he wasn’t being seen by the Delacours, as he didn’t want to appear rude. “What did she say? Did I, uh, miss something?” 

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand in return, chuckling again. “She asked if I didn’t have to win you a stuffed duck, since I’m your boyfriend.” 

“Oh,” Harry felt his cheeks heat as he glanced towards the girl in her light blue and flowery wheelchair. The wheelchair was easily pushed up the hill to Hogwarts, as it was still in hover mode. “That’s, uh… s-sweet…” He looked up at Draco, then shied away from how beautiful his boyfriend looked in the gentle summer sunlight which covered the world in a bright and warm glow. “Did she really call us boyfriends?” He added after some slight, not nervous, hesitation. 

Draco laughed softly as he nudged Harry with his hip. “She did. I guess it is evident by looking at us, at least to some.” 

Harry pushed his own hip back against his best friend and boyfriend. “I guess it is.” He agreed. 

Chapter Text

In the entrance hall, Harry and Draco were surprised to find Remus and Snuffles together with Molly and Arthur Weasley. Amos Diggory was engaged in a conversation with Mr. Weasley. The two of them were standing a little away from the werewolf and his dog. Molly Weasley, on the other hand, was happily engaged in conversation with Remus. 

The Delacours excused themselves and headed towards two distinct adults, who were standing slightly awkwardly next to the Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hourglasses. One of the adults was a tall, blonde person who appeared to be a woman, but Harry wasn’t making any assumptions about the certainty of that person's preferred pronouns. They were dressed in a soft blue silk shirt, a pair of black high waisted pants, which had complex embroideries on the side of them. Next to this adult was a man who almost rivalled Hagrid in size. He had chestnut brown hair which was gathered in a tight ponytail, and a big, brown beard which had been colored to have two dark streaks in it on either side of the mouth. He was dressed in layered black clothing, which didn’t suit the weather at all, thus, he must be kept cold with magic, as he didn’t appear to be sweating. Next to one another, the married Delacour couple appeared slightly odd, but the more Harry looked at them, the more natural they looked together. 

Harry and Draco approached Remus, Snuffles, and Molly. Snuffles saw them coming first, and dashed over towards them, eager to show off the shirt which Molly had made for him. It was a dog shirt in the Gryffindor colors, with a mostly red shirt with yellow stripes on the sleeves and by the bottom of the shirt. On the back was embroidered a big S for Snuffles, also in yellow. It was not suitable for the weather in the least, but Molly had wanted to try it on the dog and had failed to get it off again. 

“Very handsome, cousin.” Draco reached down to pet the dog on his head. Nobody was close enough to hear him, but Harry still looked around to make certain that the mention of cousin had only been acknowledged by himself and Snuffles. 

Snuffles wagged his tail and ran around them, then walked next to Draco as they approached the adults. Harry noticed that he was wearing the collar that he had gotten from Professor Snape during Hex-mas. 

“Hello,” Remus stood up from where he had been sitting on the stairs, and reached out to hug his son, who of course hugged him back. “How was the carnival? Did you have fun?” 

“It was fun, but I’m not sure it is something I will be wanting to re-experience a lot in my life.” Harry stepped back after the hug, as Remus and Draco exchanged nods. “Ah, I forgot to try out the corn dogs… Oh well. Good evening, Mrs. Weasley.” 

“Good evening, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco echoed. “Thank you very much for our Holiday visit, it was very pleasant.” 

“Goodness me, such praise,” the woman giggled softly. “How are you, boys?” She opened her arms and welcomed them both into a hug. Neither wanted to reject her, and so they both got a collective hug. 

“I’m excited to sit back and just watch this trial.” Harry smiled at her while correcting his hair to make certain that his scar was hidden from view. “It’s been stressful, but after this, it will finally be over.” He sighed, feeling the words weigh on him. Harry was decidedly looking forward to when the Trimagus Tournament was but a memory. 

“Oh, yes, yes, very understandable,” Mrs. Weasley agreed. “Well, me and Arthur have been following the Trimagus Tournament, but so has pretty much everyone. I never imagined that I would be here to see the final with my own eyes. You see, my son Percy, he is working for the Ministry of Magic now! He’s the Minister of Magic’s very own secretary!” She paused for effect, looking truly proud of her son. “He has been so busy lately. Too busy to come home for the winter break. He was spending it with his girlfriend you see, and so he wanted to apologise for being so absent. He got us tickets to the Trimagus final!” She chuckled softly and then looked down at her own shoes, shifting somewhat uncomfortably. “Now, I am very happy to be able to see it, but I wouldn’t have needed something like this. I would much rather my son just visited, rather than him paying for us to be here…” 

Harry couldn’t help but think of how much Molly Weasley sounded like Ron. They were both threading that line of gossip when they spoke, but neither meant to be gossiping about their family members. Perhaps Molly Weasley had experienced loneliness like that of her son, the kind of loneliness which made them both seek to be too open with strangers in their desire to simply express themselves to anyone.  

“Perhaps you can speak with him after he is done with work today?” Draco suggested in a passively polite manner. 

“Now that is a rather good idea!” Mrs. Weasley’s face lit up as she turned to Draco. “Oh, perhaps he might even let me treat him to something small from one of the food stalls.” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Remus gently tried to ensure that Molly didn’t become agitated. “But he might be busy with work no matter if he wants to be or not.” 

“Yes… Yes, or course.” The woman nodded to herself. At least she was trying to be understanding, even if it was hard for her. 

As if he had been summoned by them speaking of him, Percy Weasley appeared at the top of the stairs. He was dressed in a fashion which was clearly meant to resemble that of the Minister of Magic, in that his outfit consisted of pieces which were black with white pinstripes, complete with a simple black cloak. The Minister usually wore simpler clothes with a pinstriped cape, complete with his beloved lime green bowled hat. Percy Weasley was carrying a clipboard with him, and his somewhat curly hair was tightly secured with a lime green headband. He appeared to be wearing heels, as the sound of them hitting the stone could be heard almost as loudly as Snuffles’ claws, since the entrance hall was currently almost empty. 

“Delacour, Lupin, the champions are supposed to assemble now. I will personally take you to the tent, we don’t have time to waste.” Percy Weasley began barking orders around him, while looking back and forth between his clipboard, which he tapped with perfectly manicured nails. “Follow me.” He didn’t even greet the rest of the people assembled as he passed through the entrance hall. 

Delacour was kissed on both cheeks by their parents and their little sister, before they jogged after the Minister’s secretary. Harry hugged his dad, who was the closest to him, then jogged after him as well. 

“Do stay away from me, Mr. Lupin,” Percy Weasley demanded as Harry caught up to him. 

Harry got an uncomfortable premonition that he wouldn’t like whatever it was that the Minister’s secretary was about to say next, as he knew Mr. Fudge’s opinions on werewolves rather well. 

“My girlfriend is allergic to animals. I want your dog’s fur as far away from me as possible.” The Minister’s secretary concluded sharply. 

The son of a werewolf felt himself breath out again, not having been aware that he was holding his breath. “Of course, Mr. Weasley.” Harry hoped that he didn’t sound as breathless to the others as he did to himself. 

Inside the champions’ tent, Victor and Diggory were waiting for them, together with Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch. Mr. Bagman appeared slightly anxious, and he wasted no time in hastily approaching Percy Weasley. 

“Has he contacted you yet?” Mr. Bagman’s voice was slightly breathless as he more or less forcefully pushed himself into Weasley’s private space. “I have this whole segment planned in regards to his appearance, if he will come?” He stopped, then continued, as if he could persuade the person he was talking about to appear by tempting Weasley with his words. 

The Minister’s secretary’s face was hard but emotionless as he looked down at his clipboard. He then shook his head, tapping the board with his nails again. “He won’t be coming.” 

“But-!”

“The Minister of Magic is a very busy man, and he cannot take time off to appear at every event which seeks to have his presence there.” Weasley spoke firmly and without emotions. “However good your segment was, you will have to make do without it. The Minister of Magic places his faith in both you and Mr. Crouch.” 

Mr. Bagman looked devastated as he learned that he would not be able to use his planned material, but Mr. Crouch didn’t seem to react at all. In fact, he was staring at a jug of water, evidently completely lost in the unmoving surface of the liquid. 

“Well, I have other arrangements to attend to, do remember to give the champions the instructions for the maze, so that they may begin their own preparations.” Mr. Weasley turned towards said champions and Harry. “You will be served food here shortly, I propose you eat in reasonable measure and give yourself plenty of time to recover from your respective dinners. Excuse me.” With those words, he swept past Harry and Delacour, and was out of the tent. 

Delacour leaned over to Harry to whisper. “Is he always that… Stiff?” 

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t know him very well, but at least he was time effective.” He glanced towards the opening to the tent, wondering if this was how Percy Weasley always had been, somehow he appeared quite a bit more confident than when Harry had met him in school, which was in no manner a bad thing. It was more than evident that he took his work very seriously and Harry found that he was happy for the young man and his accomplishment of earning such a prestigious position of work.

“Well, gather ‘round then, champions.” Mr. Bagman sadly waved for them all to come closer. “In this trial, your goal is to navigate a maze, filled with magical traps, riddles and creatures. Do not be surprised if the maze itself might provide some more hindrances than simply a blocked path. Your goal is to navigate to the center of the maze, where you will find the Trimagus Tournament cup. The person to first reach it will be rewarded as the champion of this trial. Then, the others are to find their way to the center as well, or give up. Based on overall performances in the Trimagus Tournament, a definitive winner will be selected. That definitive winner will be announced on Sunday. You should all do your best today, remember that you could still win the Tournament, even if you don’t win the trial of today. If you cannot find the center of the maze, and want to give up, simply send red sparks into the air, and someone will be sent to retrieve you.” Mr. Bagman grinned at them all, before turning towards Mr. Crouch. “Did I forget anything, Barty?” 

There was no response from Mr. Crouch, he continued to stand in the same spot, and stare at the water in the jug, almost without blinking. 

“Barty? Hello?” Mr. Bagman walked over to the man and gently pushed his shoulder. 

Mr. Crouch looked at the other man slowly, as if he was moving underwater. His empty eyes met Mr. Bagman’s. Then, equally slowly, he laughed. It was a laugh which consisted of only two chuckles. The air in the tent didn’t appear to move after his laugh, everyone stared at the man while they tried to understand what had just happened. 

Then, as if nothing had happened, Mr. Crouch straightened up. “I’m sorry, Ludo, I was lost in memories. What is it you need me to do?” 

Mr. Bagman recovered quickly. “Maybe you should go outside and have some water? Or, the other way around. Just get out there and get some air, why don’t you, Bart?” He poured a glass for Mr. Crouch and handed it to him. 

Mr. Crouch accepted the glass, drank from it, and then breathed out as if relieved. “The water helped, thank you. Excuse me.” He placed the empty glass down and wandered off without another word. 

Mr. Bagman turned to the rest of the champions, and put his hands together in a loud clap which startled Harry. He was about to begin speaking of something, but before he could, a House Elf appeared in the tent, quickly followed by another one. More and more House Elves appeared carrying trays of food, which they placed on the table for the champions to eat. Soon enough, a small feast was presented before them on the table. 

“Excellent, then I shall leave you to eat. After all, I have a speech to rewrite…” Mr. Bagman headed for the tent door, mumbling under his breath as he walked. He was not happy about the last minute change, that was for certain. 

The three champions and Harry ate dinner together. It was a pleasant dinner, with simple conversations and plain topics. Victor used his knowledge of training, health and food to suggest to the others what they should eat to avoid so that their dinner didn’t impact their abilities to perform physically. The champions ended up discussing their varying performances and theorising about who would be the most likely to win based on the first two trials. Diggory stated that he would do his utmost to win this trial, as it would vastly improve his chances of winning the Trimagus Tournament itself. They discussed back and forth, but they struggled to agree on who was the most likely to be in the lead as of currently. 

The hour passed, and the champions were gathered together, and led to the small stage that was the judges table and the announcer's booth. Harry felt awkward where he stood in his normal clothes next to the athletically dressed champions. Their little stage was placed in front of the maze, with the panel of judges being located just next to them. As they stood upon the stage, they had their backs to the maze, and faced the collection of stands which hosted a great number of people, all of whom appeared to be cheering, clapping and screaming for the people on the stage. 

Between the stage and the first rows upon the stands hung three large mirrors, suspended in the air by means of magic. The mirrors were designed so that they had glass on both sides, and no backside, which meant that both the audience and the judges could see the same vision through them. That vision being one of the three champions, one in each mirror, and a little bit of Harry’s arm in the one that displayed Diggory. Each champion, Harry excluded, had been given a small necklace which was designed to not be in the way for them as they competed, and it seemed to be what the magic mirrors were linked to.

“Gentlefolk, ladies, gentlemen!” Mr. Bagman screamed towards the stands, his magically enhanced voice echoing loud and clear. 

Harry resisted the urge to cover his ears to escape from the intrusive noise. 

“Are you ready for the third and final Trimagus Tournament!?” Mr. Bagman continued to yell, pointing towards the stands to encourage the people to cheer in response. They roared to show how ready they were. “Are the champions ready for their final trial?” 

The man turned towards the champions, who all dutifully performed as expected, nodding, smiling, and stretching in Victor’s case. The exception was Harry, who did his best to appear as small as possible. 

“Before I start telling you all about this trial, I will ask Mr. Lupin if he is planning on forfeiting this trial, or if he would like to compete?” Mr. Bagman looked to Harry with hopeful eyes. He evidently believed that Harry competing was a great allure to people, since he was the illusive wild card who shouldn’t be there at all. 

Harry nodded before turning towards the judges. “Honorable judges, I would like to forfeit this trial.” He announced, feeling a little satisfied over the fact that his words caused a disappointed expression to form on Mr. Bagman’s face. 

“We accept the forfeit of Mr. Lupin.” Without any discussion, Headmaster Karkaroff spoke up in an authoritative manner. 

“We also accept the resignation of Mr. Potter, to ensure that Mr. Lupin will be secure in his forfeiting.” Madame Maxime continued speaking. 

“Mr. Lupin may take his seat now.” Headmaster Dumbledore concluded the discussion of the topic with a friendly smile, showing for Harry that it was acceptable for him to join his family and friends. 

Harry bowed to the panel of judges, and jumped off the stage. He could see his friends wave at him from the stands, and he made his way up to them while Mr. Bagman continued to speak about the third trial. 

“Now! The Trimagus champions are to make it to the center of the maze, and retrieve the Trimagus cup. Even though only one can come in first and bring the cup out, they are all supposed to get to the center, or give up. Please note, champions, that as long as nobody has reached the center, any surrendering isn’t likely to be accepted by the contract which you have made with the Goblet of Fire.” He looked to the champions with a glint in his eyes. Mr. Bagman then turned back to the audience. “Their performances will be judged based on how fast they get to the center, but also in how they deal with the various tasks, traps and encounters which hide within the maze.” He paused for effect, then turned to point upwards, towards the hovering mirrors which hung between his stage and the audience. 

“The Ministry of Magic has lent the Trimagus Tournament committee these newest inventions in terms of magic image projections, allowing all of you to follow the champions in real time! Sadly, no sound can be projected, but you have me to give you all the interesting information which might be lost without sound! Mr. Fudge, Minister of Magic, couldn’t be here today, so we thank Mr. Percy Weasley, who has worked hard to ensure that this equipment was delivered safely and in time for us to use!”

The young Mr. Weasley stood up as he was pointed towards. He was sitting in the booth next to the judges, which was connected to the musicians' box on the other end. In the same booth as the Minister’s secretary sat Amos Diggory and the Delacours, alongside some people from the Ministry, including Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Percy Weasley bowed towards the audience, and the judges, before he sat down again. His form had been perfect, he had most certainly practiced that bow for a long time for it to be that perfectly executed. 

Meanwhile, Harry reached his family and friends, finding that Professor Snape had joined the group. The two of them exchanged quick nods as Harry passed him to sit next to Draco and Hermione. Both of whom accidentally coordinated a hug, hugging Harry from both sides. Since Hermione wasn’t very keen on hugging, it meant a lot to Harry that she had wanted to give him a hug without him initiating it. Not to mention that being hugged from both sides by his boyfriend and one of his best friends, was just overall pleasant for Harry. 

“With that being said, the three participants will now enter the maze! If the champions will move over there, the maze will open up for them!” Mr. Bagman continued to yell as he guided the participants off the stage and towards their starting positions. 

The three gave one last wave to the audience, before turning their backs to them. Above them, the mirrors showed the champions from above, slightly angled to look over their shoulders. The maze parted for each one of them, and they set off into what appeared to be dark nothing from the stands, but which of course proved to be green tunnels once looked at through the mirrors. 

Harry’s eyes were drawn to the mirror which displayed Victor, as he began jogging down the green path towards the first conjunction. He ignored it and proceeded deeper into the greenery, continuing to jog while keeping a keen eye on all that he passed. 

It didn’t take Victor long to approach the first hindrance. Before him stretched out a hole, which continued into absolute blackness. Victor stopped before it, then aimed a spell into the darkness. As he did, a soft ball of light floated from the tip of his wand, and sank into the darkness. It was allowed to hover downwards for about a meter, but then disappeared into blackness. The light had confirmed that the hole appeared to be normal, and hosted no creature within it which reacted to the light. 

Harry felt how Hermione grabbed his arm and squealed softly with excitement as Victor used that light spell. “I taught him that!” She excitedly proclaimed. 

Victor jogged back from the hole, and tucked his wand into the holster upon his hip, which Harry knew to have been commissioned for him by Headmaster Karkaroff, since Victor had mentioned that he had lost his wand a few times. Then, Victor took a few deep breaths and dashed towards the hole. 

Half of the audience held their breaths and the other screamed. 

Victor landed on the other end of the whole, but he slipped, and ended up hanging from the edge. With a powerful heave, he pulled himself back up and rolled to safety. He remained on his back, breathing hard for almost a minute, before getting up again and continued deeper into the maze. 

“A marvelous athletic performance from Mr. Krum!” Yelled Mr. Bagman. 

Meanwhile, Delacour had encountered a trap. They had walked around a corner to find a flower in the middle of their path. Without giving it a chance to do anything to them, Delacour had blasted the flower with a spell, causing the soft, round flower to release all its spores everywhere around it. 

“Oh no, that’s not… Oh no…” Neville mumbled somewhere next to Hermione, as he watched Delacour start to get weight down by the spores which cluttered to their clothing. 

The spores appeared to be heavy, as Delacour began stumbling, and sank to their knees. They didn’t appear to be coughing, but they were nonetheless struggling to keep upright. 

“Uh-oh! Looks like Delacour got too eager with violence there!” Mr. Bagman’s commentary continued. 

Delacour forced their wand upright, and said something. A burst of water erupted from their wand, soaking their hand and a bit of their arm. The spores ran off and landed on the ground. Delacour repeated the process a few times, until they were at the very least mostly soaked through, but also free from the spores. In the water around them, the spores appeared to be taking root. Delacour slowly walked around the spores that they could see, before running a few steps to get away from the trap. Well at a safe distance, they used a spell to dry their clothes off, returning to looking somewhat dignified once more.

“An excellent magic solution from Mx. Delacour! And an impressive display of not only one spell, but three.” Mr. Bagman cheered. 

While Delacour dried themselves off and Victor got up from the ground, Diggory encountered the first magical creature in the maze. It was a small, yet well dressed, gnome, who sat upon a comfortable-looking armchair in a three way conjunction. He was talking to Diggory, who had stopped and was listening to him, nodding politely as the gnome kept on talking. 

“Mr. Diggory’s politeness is getting him played for a fool!” Announced Mr. Bagman. “That gnome there is simply trying to delay and distract him, there is nothing to be gained from stopping and listening to that rambler! How long until he realises?” 

Five minutes later, during which Delacour had put out a firewall which couldn’t be subdued by water, and Victor had circled back from another polite gnome who demanded he answered a riddle before passing a certain way, Diggory finally realised that the gnome he was talking to was stalling him. 

He stepped forward, and after making sure that the gnome wasn’t about to stop him, Diggory began running, feeling like he had lost a lot of time. 

“And he did it! Good job, Mr. Diggory!” Mr. Bagman and the crowd cheered for the Hogwarts champion. 

About a minute later, Victor ended up by the same gnome. However, unlike Diggory, he didn’t even register the gnome as a threat, and simply passed by it before it could begin stalling him. The gnome looked both surprised and offended, but Harry thought that it was equally possible that Victor simply hadn’t heard the gnome call to him as he ran past it. 

“Mr. Krum is a man of commitment and focus, he didn’t even bother to stop!” Mr. Bagman chuckled.  

Harry continued to focus on the mirror which showed Victor. He circled a corner, and found himself face to face with a dementor. A loud gasp passed through the crowd as they realised that something like a dementor had been placed in the maze. The dark creature hovered, its rotting hands curling slightly as it remained still in the air. It appeared to Harry that the dementor had been instructed not to attack, but to provide a hindrance, and that the movements of its hands were because it was keeping itself from attacking its newfound prey. 

Victor slowly lowered himself to the ground, and then equally slowly stood up again, his fist balled by his side, and his wand in its holster upon his leg. Then, he flicked his arm, lobbing a sizable rock at the dementor, much to the amusement, shock and surprise of the onlookers. The rock hit the dementor square in the head, and sent it stumbling backwards. Victor took the opportunity and ran past it, dashing by as it was still gathering itself from the impact of the rock. 

Whatever rules the dementor might have agreed to follow, it did not extend to letting people who attacked it with rocks pass freely. It began to chase after Victor, who was surprisingly fast, even though he was at least to some part affected by the dementor’s presence. 

Delacour straightened up in their mirror, and aimed their wand towards a corner, it appeared that they could hear something coming as they had become very still, clearly waiting. 

The next second, Victor crashed into Delacour, knocking them both to the ground. The wand almost flew out of their hand, but Delacour kept a tight grip on it, even though Victor’s larger body was pressing down upon their smaller frame. 

The two appeared to be bickering, but they didn’t get far as the dementor came around the corner, chasing Victor. Delacour immediately focused on the actual threat instead of the other champion. They sat up, pulled Victor to the side and more or less held him in their embrace, attempting to shield him as they yelled out a spell, their wand aimed at the dementor. From the tip of their wand, a creature made out of silvery light took shape, the threads gathering into a blinding, winged creature with a long neck. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that it was a swan. 

The patronus lowered its head, spread its wings and then rushed the dementor. Harry could hear the sound that the swan made as the dark creature was chased away, followed closely by the bird. The mighty honks were audible all the way to the stands.

In the last mirror, Diggory spun around, likely having heard the noises as well. He aimed his wand towards the source of the sound, and prepared himself as soon as a dementor came flying around the corner. However, the next second, a very angry swan patronus followed it, not intent on letting its prey escape. Diggory jumped to the side and let the two pass, deciding against taking the turn to the right in front of him, and instead ran down the path to the left, where no dementor had been chased. 

“Absolutely marvelous!” Mr. Bagman and the onlookers were ecstatic from what they had just witnessed. “Superb!” 

For once, Harry found himself agreeing with the man. 

The competition continued, with the champions continuing to make their way towards the center. Delacour mostly used magic, and wasn’t too athletically prone, whereas Victor relied on his body, and not magic, which also proved somewhat less effective than a combination of the two. Diggory was the best at adapting, employing a mixture of both magic and physical feats, which caused the audience to cheer wildly for him. The audience support was mixed, but with the percentage of people present who were present and former Hogwarts students, the cheering for Diggory steadily overtook most of the cheering for the other two champions. 

Cedric Diggory rounded another corner, panting hard after having outrun an aggressive pixie swarm, which he had periodically stunned until all of them had left him alone. The onlookers began to scream and cheer, for they, like Diggory, saw that the Hogwarts champion had found the center of the maze. In front of Diggory stood a golden cup, which appeared to be burning red in the moonlight. Diggory slowly looked around before beginning to carefully make his way across the round center of the maze, approaching the cup like it was an aggressive wyvern. 

When he finally stood in front of it, his hand raised over the cup, Diggory still hesitated. He appeared to be trying to judge if there was anything suspicious with the cup, but when his spells yielded seemingly no results, he carefully placed his hand upon one of its handles. A gentle wind blew from the cup, ruffling Diggory’s clothes and hair, and shook the hedges around the maze to signal to the other champions that someone had reached the cup. Both Victor and Delacour looked up from their previous engagements, both of them realising at the same time that they had already lost to the first place winner. Harry noted that both of them appeared to curse as realisation hit them. 

“The third and final trial has a winner!” Mr. Bagman roared, “Cedric Diggory! Hogwarts champion!” 

As he yelled, Diggory was looking around. The maze was changing around him, creating a small corridor of green which led through the maze and towards the place where the champions had first entered. The onlookers saw an opening appear behind the stage, forming into a door in the hedges. 

Soon enough, Diggory came wandering through the door and back into the light of the rapidly setting sun. The light shone of the golden cup in his hands, making it appear almost glowing. The onlookers roar welcomed him back, as the band started to play triumphant music. Diggory smiled at them, raising the cup high above his head. 

His girlfriend broke from the crowd, and rushed over to him while Mr. Bagman continued to yell about Diggory’s performance. With the entire school and more looking, Chang threw herself around Diggory’s neck and kissed him. He looked somewhat surprised, but kissed her back, supported by a large part of the audience. 

Harry, his family, and his friends all cheered for the Hogwarts champion, but not as loudly as some parts of the audience were. It had been a very exciting final trial, and the adrenaline in the air was intoxicating. Harry still didn’t quite enjoy all the sounds, but he found that he was more comfortable here, surrounded by his friends, than he had been at the officials’ booth during the Quidditch World Cup. 

When both Delacour and Victor had made it to the center of the maze, and walked back together, as they found each other in the maze and chose to cooperate to cover their lacking abilities, the sky had turned dark. The two of them walked out together, sweaty, wet, dirty and a little bit bloody on Victor’s part, joining the equally sweaty and dirty Diggory. Diggory had been seated with his girlfriend upon the stage, where he had placed the cup down next to himself. When he saw the other two champions, he got up and ran over to them, the three of them embracing each other. Harry could see Diggory and Delacour laugh, while Victor smiled. 

It was clear that the bonds which the Trimagus Tournament had been meant to create, had indeed been formed between the three champions, now also friends.

Above them, fireworks began to fly, exploding into colorful shapes and patterns, raining glitter over the dark sky which was covered by heavy clouds. The champions were gathered upon the stage and had the necklaces removed from them, where Diggory was placed in the center, still holding on to the cup. 

“Gentlefolk, ladies, gentlemen!” Mr. Bagman yelled again, “we have a winner in the third and final Trimagus Tournament trial! Mr Dig-!” 

Before he could finish, Diggory put his own wand to his throat, enhancing his voice so that he could interrupt Mr. Bagman. “I would like Mr. Lupin to come up here with me.” Diggory’s eyes found Harry in the crowd, and he smiled at him. “This victory belongs to Hogwarts, not me, and as an involuntarily champion of Hogwarts, Mr. Lupin should be here with me.” He held out his hand towards Harry, who felt his face burn with embarrassment, but also appreciation. 

Harry looked around, and saw only agreeing, smiling faces. He slowly and awkwardly got to his feet, and then made his way down the stands and towards the stage. On the way down, various people patted him on the back and smiled at him, it was as if all the animosity which they had felt for Harry Potter had been utterly removed by their pride for Hogwarts. 

Harry reached the ground, and continued onto the stage, where Delacour made space for him next to Diggory. Diggory was smiling his perfect smile, holding the Trimagus Tournament cup out for Harry to grab onto. With an awkward smile on his heated face, and his heart beating almost painfully fast in his chest, Harry stepped up on the stage. With his eyes on Diggory’s face, Harry reached for the handle of the cup. His fingers circled around said handle, grabbing a tight hold of the object so as to not drop it through his sweaty fingers. 

In the place where Harry and Diggory had been standing as proud winners for Hogwarts just a second before was nothing. The two had vanished, alongside the cup. 

Chapter Text

The tug beneath his belly button should have made Harry realise what had happened, but it only became apparent when the colors had stopped flying around him and the world had settled down into a concrete reality. As the Portkey had brought them to the location and the world came to a halt, Harry fell over, landing hard on an ill maintained, slightly overgrown path, while Diggory remained standing. The cup clattered to the path as well, the noise echoing in the silence of the night, which appeared deafening after such a long time surrounded by noise.  

Harry and Diggory looked around, both of them feeling cold and wet as the evening fog which covered their new location softly struck against them. Both of them knew instantly where they were, as the various stone monuments around them left little to the imagination. The Portkey had brought them to a badly maintained graveyard, at the bottom of a hill upon which towered an old, gothic estate which appeared abandoned, as no lights could be seen through the thin fog. Harry slowly got to his feet, trying to do so silently. He felt a horrible feeling of dread, and his head, his scar, was aching softly. 

Diggory had lowered his voice as he was inspecting one of the gravestones which was the closest to him. “Do you know this place, Lupin? This gravestone says H.T Riddle… Riddle? Maybe this is another part of the trial?”

Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe as he heard Diggory say the name Riddle out loud. He felt as if the fog had begun entering him, and was slowly but mercilessly filling his lungs in a way that made him remember what it had been like to feel like he was drowning in the Hogwarts lake. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask where the Portkey was, or to beg Diggory to somehow get them away from the graveyard, but he didn’t manage to. 

A flash of green light hit Diggory in the chest, sending him flying backwards where he landed in a limp pile, utterly unmoving. Harry felt as if he had gone deaf, he had heard nobody speak, and still Diggory had been hit by that green light. He truly felt like he was under water, and he couldn’t bring his body to react when something grabbed him painfully hard around the arm and dragged him away. He followed without resistance, stumbling along the path as he remained staring at Diggory’s fallen form, unable to see, hear, or comprehend anything but the fact that Diggory had just been hit by the killing curse. 

Harry came to his senses when he was slammed into something cold and hard, his back and head hitting what appeared to be stone. Then, something grabbed him from behind, forcing his arms to the sides and kept them stuck in a raised position. All at once, everything came back to Harry, he could see, hear and feel, all in painful clarity. In fact, it felt like he could see, hear and feel too much. 

The scene which unveiled itself before Harry left little room for interpretation, but Harry still questioned how it was possible. Harry found himself standing on top of a grave, his back pressing against the cold stone. The ornament on top of the grave, which Harry couldn’t see clearly but which he expected to be some manner of humanoid creature, had reached out with its stone hands and was holding Harry in a firm grip. It wasn’t alive, thus it had to logically have been moved by magic. 

However, the fact that he was stuck wasn’t the biggest of Harry’s concerns. The scene before his eyes called for more attention, and demanded the most of Harry’s fear, as he recognised the meaning of what he saw. Before him on the ground was a complex magic ritual. A circle had been drawn in painstaking detail, spelling out phrases using runes which Harry had never seen before, mixed with languages which Harry had never encountered in any book about magic. 

Yet more alarming, and far more noticeable, was the mess in the middle of the circle. Harry could make out a human skeleton in the middle, inside which had been placed a collection of organs which did not appear the right sizes to be human. The heart was gigantic, and the lungs didn’t match in size. The intestines were too small and too many to be human, and a layer of clay had been spread over most of the things inside the circle. The gory mess of various body parts, organs and clay made Harry feel so ill that he couldn’t look at it for too long without feeling faint. He was glad that the fog covered up some of it, so that he didn’t have to see the things in the center of the circle with too much clarity. Buckets of red liquid were positoned around the circle, the still surface reflecting the cloudy sky above. There were various bottles of other, different colored liquids in the circle as well, and some bottles with powders and substances. 

Bizarrely enough, upon the head of the skull which had been smeared with red clay, lay a ring. It appeared to be an insignia ring, an old, beautiful piece of jewelry, decorated with the letter G upon the face of the ring. It was so utterly out of place in the ritual that Harry would never be able to forget the sight of that ring. 

The magic ritual smelled so very foully that the scents were intense enough to cause Harry’s eyes to water, also causing him to cough. When he had gathered himself enough to open his eyes once more, he noticed who was standing next to him, looking at him with a pained expression on his face. 

Peter Pettigrew looked smaller than Harry remembered him. His hair was dirty but gathered away from his face, tied back in a way which covered up the bald patch upon his head. His body appeared thinner than last year, his face hollow and his eyes sunken. The clothes he wore were the same as a year ago, but they were far dirtier and appeared bigger in contrast to his body. As Pettigrew had spent more time as a human, he looked less like a rat, but his fingers still ended in yellow nails, and his eyes were utterly black and darted around without being able to focus. Harry couldn’t help but think of how much Pettigrew reminded of his dogfather at the moment when they had first met, haunted, starved, and perhaps a little mad. The sunken, dark eyes darted between Harry and the fog, as if he was searching for something within it. 

Harry realised with a startle that Pettigrew wasn’t actually searching for something within the fog, but he was following something moving within that fog. 

As a student at Hogwarts, Harry was used to seeing ghosts. He knew that ghosts couldn’t hurt the living, unless they were a poltergeist, but he knew the second he saw the fog look back at him with glowing, red eyes, that whatever that was, could very much hurt a living person. 

Slowly, the creature which had looked at him separated itself from the fog. At first, Harry thought that he was looking at a skull, but the more he looked, he could make out that the face appeared to be made out of fog. He had never seen this man, except for a reflection of him when he was eleven, when the Dark Lord had attached himself to Professor Quirrell, but the face within the fog was nonetheless undoubtedly belonging to Lord Voldemort. 

“Do it.” 

The Dark Lord’s voice came from far away. Harry could see the fog creature’s lips move, but it took longer for the voice to reach his ears than he had expected. 

To his surprise, Harry found that the statue behind him let go of his left arm, and then laced itself under the arm and up to his neck, where the hand grabbed his throat, causing him to choke as he was held stuck. Harry glanced towards Pettigrew, and realised that the man was holding a knife, and an empty bucket. Harry instinctively knew what both were for.

Fear passed through his body, causing every part of him to feel like it was too hot and too cold at the same time. He tried to scream, but the statue’s hand around his throat tightened its grip, only leaving enough air for him to pant with fear. 

The fog entity which was Lord Voldemort remained hovering in the middle of the ritual circle, inside which it almost appeared to be trapped. When Pettigrew grabbed his left arm and pulled the sleeve back, Harry heard the man’s weak voice mumble, repeating the same things over and over. 

“I’m so sorry… I’m sorry… I am so sorry… Just hold still, I will try to not make it hurt… I will try. I’m sorry.” 

He raised the knife and dragged it against Harry’s forearm. Harry had a blissful moment of realising that the knife was too sharp to actually hurt much, but the comfort that he was granted from that didn’t last for long, as blood began running down his arm and pooling into the bucket which Pettigrew was raising up to catch his blood in. 

“So slow… Hurry… Hurry…” 

The Dark Lord’s voice caused the small, rat-like man to flinch. While apologising profusely under his breath, he pushed his thumb against Harry’s arm, where the skin wasn’t damaged, causing the blood to flow faster. Only now did Harry scream. 

By the time enough blood had gathered inside the bucket, Pettigrew pulled it away and left Harry hanging, the wound still dripping blood onto the ground with an alarming rate. Harry felt dizzy, his vision was becoming blurry as he watched Pettigrew rush to the ritual and place the bucket with Harry’s blood down into it, careful not to disturb the ritual itself. 

As Harry hung against the statue, he struggled to distinguish the ghost and the man’s voices from one another, but someone activated the ritual, and the circle began to glow. He closed his eyes to avoid the sudden light, wondering if he was feeling warm or cold, and if the sounds he was hearing were real or coming from inside his head. 

Harry startled as someone grabbed his arm in a way which sent a shock of pain through it. He gasped, but then, the pain began to subside. Harry opened his eyes and focused on the person next to him. Pettigrew had ran back to him, his back turned against the magic ritual which was happening behind him as he moved his claw-like finger over Harry’s forearm without actually touching it. Harry could feel that Pettigrew was forcing the wound closed, using wandless magic to stop the bleeding. It didn’t remove the fact that he had lost a lot of blood, and that Pettigrew had cut him, but at least it meant that Harry wasn’t going to bleed out like he had initially feared. 

“I’m so sorry, hold still… Let me do this, please… Oh, I’m so, so sorry…” Pettigrew whispered to Harry. 

Harry felt like an abused puppy. He knew that Pettigrew had just cut his arm open, and he knew that healing it wouldn’t undo the damage, but he was so relieved to feel any kind of gentleness that he couldn’t help but to feel thankful towards the man. The relief of having his arm healed, of knowing that he wouldn’t bleed out, made him believe that the man really was sorry. It didn’t change anything, but at the very least Harry could accept that Pettigrew hadn’t really wanted to hurt him. 

Behind Pettigrew, the magic circle continued to shine as the ritual began forcing everything inside of the center together, shaping it into a human mass. The beautiful ring hovered in the air above the moving, crawling and throbbing mass which was forming itself into one. One by one, the containers all broke, and the glass and the wooden buckets were rejected from inside. The fog creature was hovering next to the ring, watching the body underneath take shape. 

There was a loud crack, followed by a blinding strike of light. The fog appeared to be pulled into a vortex and then it was all pushed away, chased from the graveyard in one final throb of light. In the middle of the ritual circle, which had previously been filled with all the ingredients to build a person, lay a complete body. It slowly rose up, staggering slightly. 

The body was naked, and in its nakedness, the whiteness of the skin made it appear to be self illuminated, resembling a statue more than it did a person. Certain things upon the body were missing, making it appear like a moving porcelain doll, rather than a real person. There was no hair whatsoever upon the body, and nothing in terms of genitalia. The moon escaped from the clouds, lighting up the dark graveyard, and revealing the new body of the Dark Lord further. The skin appeared thin, Harry could make out the veins through it. He thought that he could see part of the skeleton, and some of the organs through that skin, which might in fact not be skin at all. 

The Dark Lord turned to glance at Harry, which caused his scar to sting, but not nearly as painfully as he had felt it in the past. Harry gasped, causing Pettigrew to apologise once more, as he hadn’t stopped trying to close Harry’s wound just because his Master had been resurrected behind him. 

As they looked at one another, Harry was met by a face which appeared human and yet not. It was oddly like a snake, in that the bald head didn’t possess a nose, but instead two slits underneath a pair of reddish eyes. The irises weren’t blood red, but the entire eyes had a red tint to them, as if the white of the eyes were bloodshot. The mouth was thin and the lips so hard to make out in the moonlight that Harry at first thought that the man didn’t have lips at all. Looking at the Dark Lord from straight ahead confirmed that Harry could indeed see his skeleton through his skin, the odd blue and red vein marking the truth that there was something which wrapped around the skeleton and organs, but it wasn’t dense enough to be called skin. 

The Dark Lord merely glanced at Harry and Pettigrew before he moved forward to a nearby grave, upon which rested his wand and a set of black robes. He slowly dressed himself, as if he was not in a hurry to do anything. Once fully dressed, the Dark Lord took the time to step onto the soft, slightly wet grass with his bare feet. He then turned his face to the moon, staring at it until it disappeared behind the clouds yet again. Only then did he turn back towards Harry and Pettigrew. 

Harry flinched as his scar throbbed, and quickly looked away, feeling as if something horrible would happen to him if he met the Dark Lord’s eyes once more. 

Lord Voldemort stepped back into the magic circle, before yet again turning his back to the other two people present, and waved his wand in the air, as if he was carelessly playing with it. The Dark Lord then sat down upon an unmarked gravestone, studying the air in front of him without bothering himself with his servant and the boy-who-lived. 

“I wonder… how many of them will come?” He looked up at the clouds once more. “The loyal ones are gone, how cruel of me to torment them in Azkaban with my call, when I know they cannot answer.” The last words were spoken in a morose tone of voice. Strangely, it sounded like he meant every word.

The Dark Lord’s voice was not what Harry had expected. He had been prepared for a sinister whisper, or a dark, commanding voice, or perhaps something which sounded barely human. Yet the voice he heard was calm, soft, and even pleasant to the ear. It reminded Harry of Professor Dumbledore’s voice, which somehow frightened him even more than if the Dark Lord’s voice would have been inhuman. 

Pettigrew glanced behind himself, and confirmed that he hadn’t been addressed, then returned to his work on Harry’s arm. Harry could tell that the rat-like man was scared, but as the Dark Lord hadn’t demanded his attention yet, he somehow found the courage to make sure that Harry’s wound was completely closed. 

Harry wasn’t sure when they began to appear, as he still struggled to comprehend the world around him due to shock and blood loss, but the graveyard was slowly filling with Death Eaters. Harry became aware of them as he realised that he was hearing the sound of people apparating, not his own ears clicking, as he had previously assumed the noise to be. Darkly dressed shape after darkly dressed shape appeared in the graveyard, some were wearing silver masks which resembled the crude drawings which Harry had seen his friends throw balls at earlier that day. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

That was the point where Harry began to cry. He couldn’t make much noise due to the hand against his throat, but he couldn’t stop the tears from running down his cheeks and dripping down upon the grave which he was standing on. The thought of his friends, his family, and the thought of Cedric Diggory being dead was becoming too much for him. 

Pettigrew heard him sob and looked up to see Harry’s crying face. He flinched, then slowly lowered Harry’s arm down, having finished healing him to the best of his ability. 

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord had concluded that nobody else was likely to show up, and so he slowly rose to his feet, studying the Death Eaters who had heeded their Master’s call. Then, he approached the first one, the one who was standing the closest, and spoke in that gentle voice of his. “Nott, how pleasant to see that you were allowed to leave Azkaban so soon.” 

The man who was Theodore Nott’s father flinched as the flowing robes of the Dark Lord’s stroke against his own clothing, like a snake sliding over a corpse without noticing that it had once been alive. Nott was dressed in black robes with a hood pulled up over his head. The only thing visible of his face was his chin, as a silvery mask covered most of his features. 

“Y-yes my lo-” 

“Take off your mask, Nott,” Lord Voldemort continued. “You do not have permission to hide your face from me.” Without looking, he continued on to the next pair, leaving Nott to fumble with his mask. 

“My ladies Goyle.” 

The Dark Lord stopped before two women, who were standing close to one another, their faces also covered by silver masks. One of the women was plump, while the other was tall and while not thin, was thinner than the other woman. Both women bowed deeply before him. 

“You may have been careful in coming to me, but at least you did not run.” He continued on to the next one. “I approve of that. Remove your masks.”

The women who were Gregory Goyle’s mothers removed their masks, just as Nott had done. 

“Crabbe, here alone, without your wife? Or perhaps she left you? I, for one, welcome you back into my service.” The Dark Lord smiled at the tallest Death Eater, leaning his head to the side. 

“I’m honored, my Lord…” Crabbe senior mumbled. He wasn’t wearing a mask, nothing was shielding him from the world as a small smile came to pass over his hard lips. 

“Avery, how well to see that you are still alive. The last time we met, you were struggling with your lungs, correct?” Lord Voldemort let his white, bony hand brush against yet another man’s chest, causing him to shudder. 

“Sir.” Avery responded, his voice surprisingly steady. 

“Take off your mask.” As the command was being fulfilled, the resurrected man continued on to his next Death Eater. “Macnair, working for the Ministry, I hear? As an exterminator of dangerous magical creatures, I believe.” 

Macnair nodded shyly, keeping his head down. 

“Remove your mask.”

He stopped in front of the final Death Eater, the one whose brilliantly pale hair rivalled the paleness of the Dark Lord’s unnatural skin. “Lucius, no mask for you? I suppose you didn’t elect to keep that after you became friends with werewolves.” 

The resurrected man’s voice was in no way blaming or teasing, and still, the words appeared to cut straight into Lucius Malfoy, who stood like a statue before the Dark Lord, not daring to meet his eyes. Despite the fact that Lord Voldemort’s words were gentle, or perhaps because they were, Malfoy’s face appeared to heat with shame. He turned away slightly from the other Death Eaters, still looking to the ground. 

A gentle chuckle rose from the Dark Lord’s lips, as he placed a hand under Malfoy’s chin, raising his head up so that the man had no choice but to look at him. “I forgive you, Lucius.” The words sent shivers down the spines of the all the Death Eaters, not only Malfoy.

“In fact,” the Dark Lord took a few steps back so that his followers could take him in completely. “I forgive you all. I forgive you for fleeing me after I was defeated, I forgive you for hiding your masks, and I forgive you for not going to Azkaban out of loyalty for me.” With every sin he listed, the Death Eaters either flinched or whined, as guilt tore through them in more painful ways than any anger could. “I even forgive those of you who were foolish enough to attack the Quidditch World Cup, however childish your actions were. I do not approve of such actions, and any repeat offenders will have to answer to me. With that being said, it is good to see you all again. Even those of you who have lost sight of our values.” 

He looked to Lucius Malfoy as he spoke, not hiding the fact that he was. The words caused the blonde pureblood fanatic to flinch yet again, and shy from the eyes of his Master. 

“First, we must-” 

As the Dark Lord began speaking about his plans with his loyal, and less loyal, followers, a flash sent Peter Pettigrew flying through the air, and he crashed into the buckets which had been full of blood, sending them loudly crashing into the closest gravestone. Pettigrew had lost consciousness before he even reached the ground. 

Peter Pettigrew hadn’t been able to watch Harry cry. For all that he had accidentally done, and all that he had been forced to do by his serenely cruel Master, he hadn’t been prepared for the things that he would feel when the fourteen year old child started to cry. Guilt was the most prominent emotion which rose to the surface, but here was more than that. He longed to have dared to face the dementors and the threat of Azkaban, he longed to have dared believing that Remus didn’t want him dead. He wished that he had picked any other path in life, and when he saw Harry Lupin start to cry, Peter almost wished that he had allowed Sirius to kill him. 

The Death Eaters arrived, and Lord Voldemort began to speak to them, gently scolding them while also making them feel like he remembered and cared for them. In fact, the interaction between the two groups was distracting enough that nobody was looking towards Peter and the boy. Peter may not have a wand anymore, as the one he had been using was currently reclaimed by its Master. However, the statue which was keeping Harry Lupin in place responded to his magic nonetheless. 

Thus, Peter let Harry Lupin go. 

He made the statue free the boy, and then caught the child as he almost fell forward. Peter could but whimper as he realised that the state of this boy was all his fault, the blue lips and the shivering body had become like this because Peter was a coward. Sirius had been right. He had been right about everything. 

“Petti...grew?” The child whispered his name where he more or less hung against the gravestone still, supported only by Peter’s arm. 

“The cup is a Portkey.” Peter whispered to him. “Touch it, and you will be teleported back. It responds to you.” 

Harry Lupin blinked, then slowly glanced behind him into the fog, which had reformed itself over the graveyard. He couldn’t quite see the cup, but he appeared to know roughly where it was. 

“Why…?” 

The question left the boy in the form of a sigh, barely even audible over the sound of Peter’s own heartbeat which echoed so painfully loudly in his ears.

“Because…” Peter hesitated to give the boy the real reason, but he found that he couldn’t lie to Harry, not after what he had done to him, not after what he had done to the British Mage community. “Because you remind me so much of Remus.” 

Not James. Not Lily. Harry had the same behaviours, mannerism and vocabulary as Remus. He wasn’t a ghost of James, or the faint reminder of Lily through the connection of their shared green eyes. He was Remus’ son, the son of the werewolf who had never dared dream that he could be a father. What Peter had done to Harry’s arm was unforgivable, but if he allowed Remus’ son to die, when he had the ability to save him, then Peter would truly be lost, and would never be able to see himself as a human ever again.

“I know it’s not much, but would you tell Remus I’m so-” Peter never got to finish his sentence, as a flash of light hit him, stunning him and stealing his consciousness from him. 

The last thing Peter felt was relief. It appeared he hadn’t managed to become a child killer after all. 

Harry had been speaking to Pettigrew, even holding onto him, when a bright flash collided with the thin man’s body and set him flying away from Harry. Before Harry had the chance to react to what had just happened, someone grabbed him and pulled him behind the big gravestone, out of view of the Death Eaters. 

Diggory pushed Harry forward, while still keeping a grip on him, shielding him with his own body. “Get to the Portkey! I’ll guard you, just go!” He pushed Harry again as he gestured with his wand, causing the fog to rise up and protect them from view. 

Harry stumbled, and began to hobble towards the location of the Portkey. Diggory was alive. His voice and his scent were all the same as it had been when he was alive, and his hand on Harry’s shoulder, urging him forward, made Harry know that he was alive. Yet he didn’t have time to rejoice, as Diggory was right and he had to run. 

Next to them, a gravestone exploded as the Death Eaters began to throw curses and spells at them. The ground in front of them burst out into flames, but Diggory put it out without much problem. The two of them hurried along, even though Harry couldn’t quite run, heading for that gold cup which lay hidden in the fog. 

There was another large explosion, and Diggory’s weight was suddenly upon Harry, as the two of them crashed to the ground. Diggory’s arm, which had moved around Harry to protect him from the fall, was trapped under Harry, and Harry’s left arm, which had grabbed onto Diggory’s, ended up trapped between the ground as well as his and Diggory’s combined weight. 

Diggory cursed, then looked around wildly, panic shining through his eyes. Behind him, his right leg lay useless, having been hit by a curse which had made his limb completely unsuitable to stand on. He couldn’t get up, and his weight was keeping Harry from fleeing. 

“I got his leg!” A Death Eater yelled. 

“They fell!” Another voice responded. 

Harry couldn’t make any sense out of those voices. He couldn’t tell who had said what, or how close they were. The fog began to lift, causing Diggory to curse once more. Then, he had an idea, and pointed towards the cup, sending in flying towards them.

Harry held on to Diggory’s arm as he stretched out his free hand for the approaching cup. He knew that his savior couldn’t actually cause the Portkey to work, since it was enchanted to only respond to Harry’s touch. In the gold of the cup, Harry could see the green flash of a killing curse as it was thrown at them by a Death Eater. It was approaching with alarming speed. 

Harry’s fingers closed around the cold handle of the cup. 

The two teenagers disappeared from the graveyard, leaving nothing but dried blood behind to show that they had ever been there. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Harry became aware of was Mr. Bagman’s voice, yelling, like he so often was. “Here they are, returned as promised! No damage done.” 

Harry opened his eyes, and found that Diggory’s weight was still pressing on to him where he lay face down upon the stage which they had disappeared from. Harry dropped the cup, and it rolled off the stage, hitting the ground as people began clambering around them. 

Diggory didn’t move off Harry right away, and he was slowly pushing the air out of Harry’s lungs, making him unable to breathe. Harry struggled out from under him, and Diggory fell off him. He hit the ground like a doll, his head bouncing slightly on the wooden stage, making him look up at Harry. There was no life in his eyes, his body was completely limp, fallen together where Harry had pushed him off. The green flash which Harry had thought missed them had in fact found its mark. 

Harry screamed. 

Panic washed over him and he simply screamed, all the anxiety, fear and the adrenaline crashed together in him, resulting in a pressure which demanded that either Harry screamed, or he would explode. 

Harry’s scream caused people to react, the judges got up from their seats, with the exception of Mr. Crouch.

Mr. Bagman stepped back, his enhanced gasp reaching the entirety of the audience. The people who had run down from the stands began to crowd around the stage. 

Cho Chang stood still, staring at Diggory’s empty face and his empty eyes, unable to comprehend what she was looking at. 

Then the whispers began to pass through the crowds, becoming louder and louder until everyone learnt that Cedric Diggory lay dead upon the stage where he had half an hour before been celebrating his first victory for Hogwarts, surrounded by friends and cheered on by family. 

Amos Diggory triggered the panic to spread as he pushed himself through the onlookers, violently forcing his way towards the body of his son. “Let me get past! I’m his dad! Cedric! Ced!” 

His words caused Chang to begin to cry, falling to her knees next to her boyfriend’s body. Delacour did the same, joining the grieving girl and Harry on the floor. Harry saw how they touched Diggory’s face, but no reaction came. The eyes stared, unable to see, towards Harry. 

Someone grabbed Harry by the shoulder, and carefully but roughly pulled him down from the stage as Mr. Diggory came crashing towards the place where Harry had just been. For the second time that night, Harry found himself unable to struggle as he was pulled away from the stage, from the Trimagus Tournament, from the terrible crowd which had begun to flee, fearing that something akin to the World Quidditch Cup would repeat itself. The person pulled Harry away from Cedric Diggory’s corpse, and towards the safety of Hogwarts. 

All the way there, Harry couldn’t stop screaming, the panic within him didn’t allow him to stop. 

When Harry was able to fully focus again, he realised that he was in the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher’s office. It didn’t look anything at all like it had when Remus had occupied it. The familiar scents had been replaced with strange mixes of scents which made Harry’s mind feel too sharp for comfort. 

The room itself was filled with all manners of tools, equipment, boxes and bottles. On a wall hung a collection of hair, gathered from different animals, beasts and perhaps even people. There appeared to be boxes everywhere, all of them locked with complex mechanisms and some even locked in chains. From the ceiling hung dried herbs upside down, spreading scents in defiance of being hung. The herbs to increase awareness and clarity had finally been what helped Harry return to his own mind, and calm down from the panic attack.

Mr. Moody had just roughly thrown Harry down onto an unsteady chair. Harry noticed that his body felt very heavy, and he realised with some alarm that he couldn’t stand up. Mr. Moody’s blue eye was spinning in his head, perfectly mimicking the stressed and unsure expression which appeared to be utterly unnatural upon the scarred Auror’s face. He was pacing the room, glancing nervously at Harry while chewing on his own nails.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen… This wasn’t supposed to happen…” Mr. Moody muttered under his breath, while circling his bizarre room. 

“What… wasn’t supposed to happen?” Harry slowly sat up in the chair, feeling his head and body throb with pain. He stared at the man as his heart began to pound, his mind urging him to run, telling him that he was only safe with his family, and not with the mad, old Auror. 

Moody noticed that Harry was looking towards the door, and before Harry could raise his wand, Moody’s staff was aimed straight at his face. It was close enough to cause physical damage, rather than be of any magical use in that close proximity. Harry swallowed and slowly sank back in the chair. He suddenly felt like he was about to throw up. 

“He would want me to kill you… He would even reward me for it…” Moody mumbled, then bit his lip, almost chewing through it. “No, he might not want… you’re not special, after all…Oh, blasted eye!” The eye was still spinning, going around and around. Harry could hear a weak sound coming from it.

To Harry’s horror, the man brought his hand up and grabbed the eye in its socket, before forcing it out of his head and threw it to the side, leaving a gaping, black hole where the eye had once been. It continued to spin as it disappeared behind a particularly well chained up box. 

“Mr. Moody…” Harry tried to speak to him. “I don’t know what you are talking about, but you-”

“Oh shut your mouth!” The man more whined than yelled as he pushed the lump of wood into Harry’s face, almost causing his glasses to fall off. “Shut up, Lupin! Let me think!” 

Harry shut his mouth, pulling back in the chair to avoid his glasses falling off his face. He slowly tried to reach for his wand. Now that Moody no longer had his eye, Harry stood a chance at performing that task, which he hadn’t while the blue eye was still in Moody’s eye socket. 

The door flew open with a loud crash, and a growling beast flew through the doors, crashing into Moody. Harry saw a flash of white as he watched his dogfather dig his teeth into the arm of the Auror, causing him to drop the heavy staff with a loud clatter and a scream. The man began to fight off the beast who was Snuffles, but the dog was fuelled by the will to protect his godson, and he wasn’t giving in. Harry heard him bark loudly as the man and the dog rolled around in the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher’s office, knocking things down all around them. 

Harry tried to get up from the chair but his body wouldn’t allow it. Whatever Pettigrew had done to heal him was not enough for him to be steady. He crashed to the ground and began to crawl towards the open door, trying to get as far away from Moody as he could. 

The sound of running reached Harry’s ears, and not long after, Remus appeared in the door opening to the room which had once been his. He was followed by Percy Weasley, who had been the only one who was young enough to keep pace with Remus as he ran after Snuffles. 

“Dad! He’s a Death Eater!” Harry didn’t know if Moody was a Death Eater or not, but at this point, he didn’t care about the details. Moody had contemplated killing him to appease the Dark Lord, that was enough for Harry to condemn him for the moment. 

Remus’ gaze swept over the scene as he stepped forward. “Sirius, get back!” He yelled at the dog, who wasted no time obeying. The next thing that happened, Remus had stepped over his son and swung his wand towards the knocked down and slightly bleeding Moody, sending a stunning spell right at his face. The spell hit its mark perfectly, and sent the Auror into a tower of boxes, all of which came crashing over him. 

Percy Weasley was over by Harry, and had helped him up when Professor Snape caught up with them. He surveyed the scene, and stepped inside the room. “What happened?” He didn’t aim the question at anyone in particular. 

Remus kept his wand aimed at Moody, vigilant to see if he would move again. Snuffles had grabbed the staff and pulled it far away from the man, as Weasley struggled to help Harry into the closest chair. 

“He’s a Death Eater.” Harry repeated, in a much smaller voice this time. “He’s a Death Eater…” Harry felt like throwing up again, thus, he stopped talking, opting to hide behind his hand to keep the bile down. 

Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch caught up with them. They both entered through the door but before any of them could say anything, or ask any questions, something began to happen to Moody. His body shivered and trembled, before it started to shake. There was a loud noise as the man started to flail, and undid the clasp on his prosthetic leg. Harry assumed him to have had another fit of madness, like the one which prompted him to remove his eye, but to his great surprise, he found that the stump which was Moody’s leg began to grow into a leg of flesh and blood. Moody continued to shake, and he shrunk in size, his clothes becoming too big for him, and his shoe falling right off his foot as a new, smaller foot was shaped inside of it. What little Harry saw of the transformation was gruesome, and he found himself rather happy that most of Moody had been hidden by boxes during said transformation. 

Slowly, the boxes began to shake, and a person who was not Moody sat up. He had been bruised from his fight with Snuffles, but his face was still recognisable as a person’s. He had dirty blonde hair, which reached past his shoulders and to his chest, but it had been gathered in a loose braid, with only some or the hair falling from the braid and over his shoulders. He reminded Harry of someone, but it look until Mr. Crouch spoke for him to realise that he was looking at a face which reminded of the aforementioned man in every manner. 

“Junior…” Mr. Crouch’s voice was weak and heavy, filled with tiredness and exhaustion. Yet he did not appear aggressive. He only appeared very, very tired.

“Stay away from me! You monster!” The young man who was definitely an adult grabbed a small box from close by and threw it towards his father. The small box missed its mark, but almost hit Professor Dumbledore. “Don’t let him near me!” He threw another box, which hit the ground in front of his father, Moody’s big sleeves flew all around him, causing Harry to notice the Death Eater mark upon the blonde man’s left arm. 

Professor Snape’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the young man, who gathered another box to throw at his dad. Headmaster Dumbledore turned to the man, silently waiting for Professor Snape to speak up, but the Potions Master shook his head. 

“I cannot possibly disclose this information without his permission.” He nodded at the younger Crouch. “It’s… too private…” 

A box almost hit Harry, prompting Remus to pick the next one out of the young adult’s hands. “Will you stop that?” He asked sharply, in much the same way that he removed points when a student had done something particularly unacceptable. 

“Don’t let him close to me!” Crouch Junior turned to Remus with pleading eyes, his voice and his expression so desperate that it caught the Professor with surprise. “He’ll put me under the Imperius Curse again! He has kept me locked up for years, as his mind slave! He has forced me to live under his curse and an invisibility cloak while pretending I was dead all these years!” The young adult continued to scream, he was clearly approaching some manner of hysteria. 

Everyone’s eyes turned to Crouch Senior, staring at him with various levels of disgust and shock. Even Professor Dumbledore couldn’t remain emotionless in the face of such accusations. Professor Snape, who had read the mind of the young man and thus been forced to see the truth behind the words which Crouch Junior was speaking, focused on the young adult, making sure that he didn’t throw any more boxes towards Harry or Weasley. 

“What do you mean?” asked Weasley, his face reflecting both shock and fear, but also denial as he turned towards the Death Eater. “Mr. Crouch is a model citizen, he would never wield any forbidden curses outside of absolute necessity. Not to mention,-” 

“Oh shut your mouth you drooling Ministry dog!” Junior threw a box at Weasley, but Snuffles caught it in mid air, saving the younger man from a painful bruising. “Go back to grovel for the Muggles, you shame to magedom!” 

“Now listen here, you Death Eater fool, I am the Minister’s secretary and my family-” 

“Junior is right.” Crouch Senior spoke up, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look at him once more. His expression valiantly tried to remain calm, but it was breaking at the seams where pain and slight guilt bled through. “I… am a monster.” He said it so very calmly that the statement sent chills down Harry’s spine. 

“Weasley, please go retrieve some Aurors. I believe an arrest is in order.” Professor Snape stepped towards Junior, before he carefully lowered down in front of him. 

The blonde man flinched as the Potions Master knelt before him. He suspiciously eyed the man as the Professor began unbuttoning the buttons upon his left sleeve. 

“But…” Weasley objected softly. 

“Please do as the Professor requests, Mr. Minister of Magic’s secretary.” Professor Dumbledore knew just what to say to encourage Weasley. His gentle voice reflected the admiration of Weasley’s work which he wanted to see, but was also authorial enough that Weasley didn’t dare argue. 

The Minister’s secretary left in a hurry. 

Professor Dumbledore closed the door after him before turning to Crouch Senior with his hand still on the door. “If you make any attempts at running, or lashing out towards-”

“Spare me the speech,” Crouch Senior spoke calmly yet with a bit of sharpness, and he still sounded exhausted. “I wrote the speech. I know my rights, and I understand the weight of my crimes. I won’t run, I’ve run for long enough.” 

The Headmaster studied the man for a few seconds, then nodded for Professor Snape to continue speaking to the young Death Eater. The adults in the room were well aware that if they did not find answers to the situation there and then, the answers might very well slip through their grasps once the Ministry officials got involved. 

Professor Snape drew a deep breath through his nose, then spoke to Crouch Junior once more. “As you are well aware of, you have committed many crimes which cannot simply be overlooked. However, your situation, and your presence here, are most confounding. We need to know your account of what you have been through, as there are factors here which are beyond abnormal for any situation. I understand that it will not be easy for you to tell us, but the people gathered here are not a Court, and they will not seek your absolute guilt. Nobody here will judge you for your past mistakes.” He pulled his sleeve back and revealed his own Death Eater mark to the young adult. “They have forgiven me for mine.” 

Harry glanced at the mark of the skull and the snake, studying it with almost a morbid fascination. He knew that Professor Snape had been a Death Eater, but to actually see the mark with his own eyes felt unreal. It had been so easy to deny as long as it had been out of sight, but when he saw it clearly, the black ink contrasting against the pale arm of the Potions Master, Harry found that he couldn’t deny the reality that was the Professor’s past any longer. It didn’t change his opinion about the man, but it made him realise that Sirius hadn’t just been making things up. 

Snuffles had come to place his head on Harry’s lap, allowing Harry to dig his fingers into the Gryffindor shirt to steady himself. It felt very good to have something alive next to him, it helped Harry cling to both consciousness and awareness. Perhaps it would have been better for Harry to excuse himself and lay down, but so much had happened. He couldn’t stand even the thought of being alone. Harry wanted to know what Crouch Junior had to say, if he left now, he felt like he would miss something highly important.

Crouch Junior looked at the mark upon Professor Snape’s arm, before carefully reaching out to touch it, as if that would help confirm that it was real. “I don’t remember you from back then…” He finally mumbled. “But at this point, I don’t remember much at all…” 

“Yet I recall you. You didn’t have the mark when we last met,” Professor Snape calmly retorted. “How and when did you get it?” 

Crouch Junior glanced towards his father, who had slowly walked over to sit down behind Moody’s desk. Most of the things which had previously been upon that desk were spread around the floor after Snuffles fight with the disguised Death Eater. Crouch Senior sat down heavily, and rested his head in his hands. “Speak up, Junior. I have waited for this day for years now… Speak to your heart’s content, I will not interrupt.” He sounded more and more tired from every word. Crouch Senior didn’t look up once while he spoke. In the face of his own crimes, it seemed all the man could cling to was acceptance.

Harry felt like he could physically feel his tiredness. It did not make Harry feel the least bit sympathy for the man, however. He felt some manner of sympathy for Peter Pettigrew, despite all he had done, but he couldn’t feel anything for Crouch Senior other than a bitter rejection of all that he was, if his son’s words really were true. 

Crouch Junior sat up a little better. His clothes were falling off of him, and so he let the heavy coat drop off his shoulders. Without the coat, Harry could see the bitemark which Snuffles had left in his arm, the ripped fabric revealing its placement. Harry shuddered as he couldn’t help but think what might have happened to him if Snuffles hadn’t attacked the man. He didn’t like that he felt like Crouch Junior’s wounds were justifiable or deserved, but Harry had been through a lot that night, his morals were a bit lacking for the moment. Harry petted the dog‘s head in his lap, and felt a little happier as Snuffles began wagging his tail in response. 

“I’m…” Crouch Junior began but then stopped again. “Where do I begin?” He looked to Professor Snape, then glanced up at the intimidatingly tall Remus, before glancing at Professor Dumbledore, the large dog, and finally Harry. He avoided his father completely. 

“Perhaps at the trial which had you sent to Azkaban? What happened at that time?” Professor Dumbledore asked in a gentle manner. He wandered over to take a seat in the chair which Harry had previously sat on. “I attended the trial, but even then, I never found it to be fair.” 

Crouch Senior scoffed, but didn’t raise his head. He knew well that Professor Dumbledore would give anyone a second chance, rather than send them off to the places where the previous head of Magical Law Enforcement thought they belonged. They had had this conversation many times before. 

Crouch Junior nodded to himself, only speaking when he was certain that his father had nothing to say. “I… had recently become a Death Eater when the Dark Lord fell. I was approached in school many times, but rejected their offers, until I finally became friends with a man named Regulus Black.” 

The dog in Harry’s lap growled at the mention of the name Black, baring his teeth at the young adult. Harry got the distinct feeling that there was more to Snuffles’ reaction than just the fact that the name Black had been mentioned. Harry noticed that Remus glanced towards his old friend with a tinge of worry in his eyes. 

Harry raised his hand and put it over Snuffles’ snout, stopping him from growling. He would never do that to a real dog, but this was his dogfather, so Harry was certain that he wouldn’t get bitten. Snuffles settled down in Harry’s lap again. 

“The younger brother of Sirius Black?” Professor Snape, having heard Harry’s silent confusion from inside his head, took a moment to reveal to the room who Regulus Black was. 

“Yeah, that Black,” Crouch Junior nodded excitedly, a small smile appearing on his lips. “He couldn’t let me stay with him at the Black estate, since his mother very obviously considered me a blood traitor due to the way father punished those who were loyal to their blood and purpose.” 

Snuffles and Crouch Senior snorted at the same time. Neither of them considered Walpurga Black to have ever made sense in her worship of blood. Some Purebloods pretended that there was more to their creed, but Walpurga Black had always been plain and simple in her reasoning about her own superiority through means of what was in her veins. 

“So Relugus arranged for me to stay with the Lestranges. They had a rather large estate, and were happy to have me. At least Rabastan was, I never got along that, uh… closely with Bellatrix or Rodolphus. So, I told my father and mother that I was living with friends for the moment, and I was mostly left alone. Mother had never wanted me to move out in the first place, but I…” He glanced at his father. “I wasn’t very happy at home.” 

“I was happy with the Lestranges, at least for a while. Rabastan felt like an older brother to me, he would tell me things I’ve never thought of, and play games with me. Rodolphus was rather distant, and hard to talk to, but I was never uncomfortable around him and he was never short with me. Bellatrix was, well, how do I describe her…” Crouch Junior stopped to think. Nobody moved or said anything, they left him to think on his own. 

“Obsessed.” The Death Eater finally concluded. “Everything was about the Dark Lord, and not really about the fight to have blood recognised as the backbone of our society.” 

Snuffles snorted and rolled his eyes at the words. Since he was a dog, he got away with interrupting. 

“I never quite understood why Bellatrix loved him so much, but that was before I met him. The Dark Lord, that is.” Crouch Junior took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, although his lips curled upwards in a soft smile. “He was… stunning. And so gentle. He made me feel seen, like I had never felt before. His words were kind, even friendly. He allowed me to speak and listened to all that I said, even though I had no right to speak to him. The first time we met, he spent hours with only me, as if I was someone special. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t see me as Bartemius Crouch Junior, or the son of my father, or a blood traitor, he only saw me. He even touched me, patted my head when I was overwhelmed by meeting him. When I had to leave, he even told me that he was glad that we had the chance to speak.” He looked up at Professor Snape with eyes full of love and admiration. “Can you believe that he would say that to someone who wasn’t even a Death Eater at that point?” 

“Then he died,” Crouch Junior’s expression turned bitter and sad as he recalled the death of his beloved Master. “Bellatrix became obsessed with finding him again. I never understood why she thought that he could be found, but when she set off, her husband followed her. Rabastan followed him, and I didn’t want to be left alone in case they didn’t come back. We headed to the home of the Aurors Longbottom, since we knew them to be members of the Order of the Phoenix. Bellatrix took their infant son hostage, and began to torture them for information, Rodolphus helped her at first. Only it became evident rather quickly that they didn’t know anything, but Bellatrix still continued to torture them.” Crouch Junior shuddered at the memory. 

He wrapped his arms around himself and continued speaking. “Rabastan realised first what was really happening, and he began to argue with Rodolphus. He agreed that Bellatrix wasn’t actually trying to obtain information, but was just lashing out and hurting the Longbottoms because she could. I had been told to guard the baby, and so I was pushed into a different room by Rabastan as the three of them argued on the other side of the door. I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t just put the child down. I felt that as long as I held him, Bellatrix wouldn’t try anything to hurt him. I even considered taking the child with me when escaping, but I would have no way to care for him, and I couldn’t possibly return home with a kidnapped baby.” The Death Eater looked down upon his legs, as if he could still imagine baby Neville there. 

“Then the Aurors came… Father himself was with them. We were arrested and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in front of the court, with my father looking down upon me from his high seat next to the judge… As the head of Magical Law Enforcement, he was the one to truly condemn us.” Crouch Junior shuddered and grabbed his clothes. His breathing sped up and he began to tremble. Tears began to form in the corner of his eyes. Crouch Junior’s memory of the trial was triggering a panic attack. 

Snuffles got up from where he had been resting against Harry’s lap, and carefully approached the young adult. Crouch Junior appeared frightened by the large animal which had bitten and scratched him, but he calmed down when the dog lay down heavily on his lap. He sniffed, then began to absently pet the dog’s head and scratch his neck. Snuffles closed his eyes, performing his duty as therapy dog. Whatever hatred Sirius felt for all things Death Eaters, even he had to admit that this young man, who had been almost a child at the time, deserved at least a bit of support through his pain.

“That’s funny… he’s actually nice…” Crouch Junior mumbled as he calmed down. “Why is he dressed in Gryffindor colors?” 

“It’s because he is a Gryffindor…” Remus rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, using words which he assumed his old friend would approve of. “At least according to himself.” 

Snuffles made a noise which appeared to be agreeing, as he wagged his tail. 

Crouch Junior chuckled softly as he continued to pat the dog over his back. “I was a Gryffindor too. The Sorting Hat told me that I would make a great Ravenclaw, but it knew that my father would never let me relax again if I chose that path, as he would have forced me to become a judge, or lawyer or politician…” The young adult shuddered at the thought. 

“Would you tell us what happened to you after the trial? How did you escape from Azkaban?” Professor Dumbledore looked between the two Crouches, as he was correctly assuming the father to have had something to do with the prison break. 

Crouch Senior surprised everyone by speaking up. Harry noticed his son flinching, before he got very busy with patting Snuffles once more. “Junior was not very coherent at that point, so I will explain exactly how we broke him out.” The way he spoke was so direct and so calm that it felt unreal to listen to. He spoke without any seeming guilt. It was as if he had decided that since his crimes were about to be revealed, he might as well present all the facts to the court, without trying to obscure said facts. “It was-”

“Are you alright with Crouch explaining this part?” Remus interrupted the man without any sign of fear. He had his back to Crouch Senior, whose expression conveyed surprise and disapproval as he had simply been spoken over. “Severus asked for your story, not that of your father.”   

Crouch Junior looked equally surprised to his father, but he quickly gathered himself and nodded. “He is right, this part is… very unclear to me.” 

“Very well.” Remus turned to look at Crouch Senior. His expression was only slightly condemning. “You may continue.” 

Crouch Senior stared at Remus for a few seconds, before he slowly spoke up. “You are not very much like your father.” 

Harry logically knew that his dad had a father, and a mother. He technically knew that he himself had grandparents, and that they might even still be alive, but he had never once heard Remus speak of them. Harry stared at Crouch Senior, trying to comprehend that the man had just brought up Remus’ father, as if it was a weapon with which he could hurt him. 

The son of a werewolf then looked to his dad, who became the center of attention, as everyone in the room had turned to Remus. 

Slowly, Remus smiled at the man before him, raising his head up high. “Good.”

The word was all he needed to communicate his feelings on the topic. It was not said triumphantly, or rebelliously. The word was stated with surprising simplicity, and very little emotion. Remus did not want to be like his father, and the fact that he was not was simply that: a fact. A positive one for Remus, but a fact nonetheless.

Crouch Senior met Remus’s gaze, but then looked away first. He breathed in through his nose, and out his mouth, and then returned to the topic at hand. “After Junior was sent to Azkaban, my wife’s health deteriorated quickly. She became alarmingly sick, and not long after, we were given the prognosis that she was dying. She had been sick before Junior’s incarceration, but it got worse afterwards. She only had one final wish, one I did not in any way want to fulfill on a basis of simple logic, but she was persistent. Her wish was for me to free Junior, but I had no power to do that legally.” 

Crouch Junior slowly lay down upon the dog, hiding his face against Molly Weasley’s hand knitted Gryffindor dog shirt. 

“The plan my wife came up with was this: together, she and I would enter Azkaban. Well there, she would drink a Polyjuice potion which would transform her into Junior, and he would drink one to take her shape. I entered with my wife, and I left with Junior. If the dementors noticed the change, they did not care. My wife died shortly after in Azkaban, I suspect that she might have…” He looked towards Harry before stopping his speculation. With a child present, the current Minister of International Magic Cooperation was aware enough that speaking of such things in front of a minor was not ideal.

Tears were running down Crouch Junior’s cheeks as he clung to the support dog, trying hard to not reveal to anyone that he was crying. Yet Harry could tell from across the room that he was, as his shoulders were shaking. 

“I couldn’t allow Junior to run away and rejoin the Death Eaters, or search for the Dark Lord like he admitted to wanting to. After he had recovered enough to speak, we argued with one another. Quite extensively. I was already close to losing my position as head of Magical Law Enforcement, I couldn’t allow anyone to learn that I had also broken a criminal out of Azkaban and was housing him in my own home. Thus, I cast the Imperius Curse upon Junior.” He admitted his crime with such controlled calm, as if it was simply something he was reading out loud, and not a confession of casting a forbidden mind controlling curse upon his very own son. 

Remus raised his hand up to his mouth, but it was clear that he was trembling with held back rage and shock. Professor Snape’s expression showed nothing but disgust, for once unfiltered in the face of such a crime. Harry gaped at the man, feeling fear claw through his chest and stomach. One more, he felt like he wanted to throw up. Snuffles growled and pushed himself higher over the man’s child, as if to protect Crouch Junior from his father. Professor Dumbledore sat upon the chair opposite of Crouch Senior, studying him as a complex expression caused the wrinkles of his face to appear deeper. 

“It was not supposed to be a permanent solution,” Crouch Senior continued to speak, as if the reactions around him hadn’t even registered to him. “But it became so with time. I made Junior wear my old invisibility cloak, and had the House Elf take care of him. She was useless at a lot of things, such as cutting hair, which is why he looks like that now.” The man nodded disapprovingly at his son’s long hair. “Still, I let that useless House Elf convince me that he deserved to be let out of the house every now and then. There were few incidents over the years, but there were some. Nonetheless, I yielded when she begged me to let him attend the Quidditch World Cup, as Junior always did like Quidditch.” 

What little Harry could see of Junior’s expression told him that the young adult really didn’t care that much for the game. Harry noted that the statement appeared to be one of ignorance, which spoke for the fact that Crouch Senior didn’t really know his son at all. 

“You mean to say that young Mr. Crouch attended the Quidditch World Cup this year?” Professor Snape spoke up for the first time in quite a while. His gaze rested on Crouch Junior, it was evident that he was asking for his recollection of the events. 

Crouch Senior realised this, and thus stopped speaking, allowing his son to continue. 

Crouch Junior dried his eyes and sat up a little better, his legs still resting below the weight of the large dog. He was effectively trapped, even though he didn’t experience it as being trapped. “Winky was kind to me. She made me food, washed my hair, she talked to me a lot. But she wasn’t very attentive. I attended the game, hidden underneath the invisibility cloak, but I really can’t remember a lot of the game itself. Father left, and me and Winky waited for everyone else to leave before we exited the box and began to head back towards the Portkey which we had used to get there. That is when those false scum began to set fire to the tents.” He growled the last words out, balling his fists around Snuffles’ shirt. 

“I was so angry!” Crouch Junior raised his voice, as he began to tremble with held back rage. “I was locked under my father’s Imperius Curse, living as his mind slave for years on end, unable to go to my Lord and Master, and there they were, using their status as Death Eaters to attack a Quidditch Cup out of retaliation for not winning a stupid game! I grabbed a wand from someone passing by, and sent his mark up upon the sky to remind them of the Dark Lord who they weren’t serving! They ran from it like cowards, fleeing as the disobedient animals they were!” 

His gaze caught Harry’s, and Crouch Junior gave Harry a shaken smile, one which appeared utterly mad to the young teenager. “Tell me he hurt them. Tell me he tortured them. Tell me he made them regret their disloyalty! Tell me he told them that only I remained truthful and loyal!” His voice rose as he spoke, until he was almost screaming. Harry could see the desperation in his eyes, and he got the distinct feeling that Crouch Junior was pleading with him, rather than making demands. There were tears in the Death Eater’s eyes again, and his hands were shaking, desperately gripping the dog’s shirt as he stared at Harry. 

“What is he talking about…?” Remus turned towards Professor Snape, an alarmed expression forming on his face as he tried to connect Crouch Junior’s words to mean something. 

Professor Snape’s eyes widened as he looked between Harry and Crouch Junior. Harry returned his gaze, he couldn’t respond, he couldn’t recount the events at the graveyard, but he could also not keep from seeing them inside his head. The ritual, the resurrection, Pettigrew, the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord’s forgiveness, Lucius Malfoy, Diggory. Everything crowded in his mind, fighting for dominance in his immediate thoughts, projecting the evening to Professor Snape as Harry fought the urge to throw up once more. 

“He has returned,” Crouch Junior whispered. “The Dark Lord has returned. Look at his arm, his blood was used for the ritual. My Master has been returned by the very blood which stole his life in the first place.” 

“Harry…” Remus was over by his side in a heartbeat. 

Harry looked up at his dad, he felt his lower lip tremble as tears begin to form in his eyes yet again. The next thing he knew, he was wrapped safely in his dad’s arm, crying into his chest as the events of the evening returned to him all at once. The fear, the horror, the anxiety, the guilt of being the one to survive. Everything flooded back to Harry as he cried. 

“The Dark Lord… has returned…?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice trembled as he spoke up. Slowly but firmly, he bit his lower lip, staring off into the distance, seeing things long past, and perhaps imagining horrors to come. 

“Yes,” Professor Snape’s voice was dark as he spoke, balancing the line of emotion and emotionless so skillfully that he appeared to be both, and neither, at the same time. “I felt his summoning for the Death Eaters. I am sure Igor and young Mr. Crouch here felt it as well. Harry’s experiences confirm it, he witnessed the Dark Lord’s resurrection.” 

His words caused Harry to cry louder. He was consoled by Remus who lifted him up and placed him in his lap, protecting him from all that might seek to hurt him. Nothing more would be capable of harming Remus’ child this evening. He would not allow it. 

Crouch Junior laughed, yet it was not a triumphant laugh, it was a panicked one. He turned towards his father, his eyes shining with madness as he addressed the man. “Your efforts were futile! I told you he would rise again, and he will welcome me to his side. He wants me, unlike you! He loves me! Unlike you!” What was supposed to be a victorious last bragging towards his father instead became a choked sob, as Crouch Junior couldn’t speak of love without being overwhelmed by emotions. 

“Be quiet, Junior.” Crouch Senior didn’t raise his head, he was resting it against his hands again, looking down at Moody’s desk. 

The Death Eater sniffed, but he stopped yelling. Nonetheless, he was still crying, his tears having left a wet spot upon Snuffles’ shirt. 

“How did this happen? And what is your role in the events which lead to the Dark Lord’s resurrection?” Professor Dumbledore surprised the room by speaking up, addressing the sobbing Death Eater directly with his usual calm voice. However, there was a sense of urgency to his tone. Harry shuddered as he remembered how similar Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore spoke, but the resemblance appeared to comfort the young adult. 

“I was saved,” Crouch Junior spoke up, his expression turning softer at the memory. “Father fired Winky, who was the only other person to know I was alive, but then, a follower of my Master had found him, and began to prepare his return. Thus, that follower set out to retrieve the Dark Lord’s wand. He came to father’s home, because he still believed that he was the Head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement, and hoped to find some manner of clue which might help him locate the wand.” 

“Impossible, how could any mage pass the magical defenses which I personally created?” Crouch Senior interrupted his son with an annoyed tone of voice which caused the young adult to flinch slightly. 

“Well!” he retorted in an aggressive manner, “he is a rat animagus, and your defenses did not account for that.” 

Remus, Professor Snape and Snuffles glanced at one another. That confirmed their suspicions that the follower of which Crouch Junior spoke had indeed Peter Pettigrew. 

Professor Dumbledore noted their reaction, but did not interrupt. Instead, he politely requested that the Death Eater continued speaking, which Crouch Junior did.

“That animagus found me instead, and after returning once more, he was able to free me from my father’s Imperius Curse. I was eager to help my Lord, and so I was taken to meet him. I was shocked to see the state he was in, existing as a ghostly shape, but I of course wanted nothing else but to assist him in his return. When I pledged my loyalty, he revealed to me the spell for his dark mark, and I cast it upon myself with his permission.” Crouch Junior lovingly caressed his left forearm through his clothes. 

“He and the rat animagus explained to me that they needed Harry Po-, I mean Lupin’s, blood for the ritual, since there was a possibility that whatever it was that killed the Dark Lord, and the magic that kept him from touching Lupin, was some manner of blood magic, which could likely be circumvented by them sharing the same blood.” 

Harry shuddered at the phrasing. He abhorred the idea of sharing blood with the Dark Lord. 

“Thus, we needed to find a way to obtain Harry P...Lupin’s blood. Me and the animagus wouldn’t get to him, as his home was guarded by a large dog, not to mention that there was an accomplished Professor there. The animagus told me that that dog would know his scent from miles away, which doesn’t seem quite real, at least until I saw just how large the dog was. When Lupin wasn’t at home, he was spending time with the Malfoys, and that mansion was far more impossible to infiltrate. Thus, it became impossible to get to him outside of school. The only chance we had was from within Hogwarts. As the Dark Lord had already infiltrated it once and nobody noticed, we realised that the school was probably not equipped to deal with incursion, especially with all the preparations for the Trimagus Tournament. Sure, people were watching, but they were not looking in the right direction.”

“Indeed,” Professor Dumbledore admitted softly, as if he was confessing to have eaten the last piece of candy from his grandchildren. “We never would have thought that Alastor Moody could be overpowered and replaced. It is a mistake we will never be able to forget. I take it that he is dead.” 

Crouch Junior nodded slowly, averting his eyes from the old wizard. “It wasn’t… We had intended on capturing him and locking him away, but he fought back like a mad animal. One of my spells caused him to fall down the stairs, when he landed, he was dead. I hid the body in one of Moody’s boxes, as the animagus mixed the Polyjuice elixir, which I have been drinking for the past year, and I met the Aurors as Moody when they came knocking. Really, we were both very lucky that it was Moody’s house, which made the Aurors less eager to poke at things.” He let out a weak, frightened laugh before he managed to swallow it down. 

“This story is beginning to make you sound like an accomplice to the return of Lord Voldemort, Mr. Crouch.” Professor Snape addressed the man behind Moody's desk.  

Crouch Senior slowly raised his head, finding that everyone in the room was looking towards him. The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking up “in some ways, I suppose that I am.” For the first time, his voice trembled slightly, but whatever emotion it was that caused the tremble was too vague and unclear for Harry to be able identify it. “A most fitting revenge, Junior. Not only have I gone back on my word and freed a criminal, not only have I cast the Imperius Curse on him, but I have also assisted in the Dark Lord’s return. A plot very well executed indeed.” 

“Nobody feels any sympathy for you, Mr. Crouch.” Harry’s shaky voice was the first to respond to the man, whom Harry experienced to be self pityingly speaking about himself. 

The room silently agreed with Harry, as all men gathered stared at the former head of law enforcement with varied emotions, none of which came close to the spectrum of pity. 

“You misunderstand me, child.” Crouch Senior responded, once more sounding simply tired. “Unlike what any of you might think of me, when Junior cast the Imperius Curse on me and made me do his bidding, I quite embraced the effects of the curse. I was allowed to escape all the guilt and the stress, I was allowed to escape the feelings of not being enough, and I no longer had to endure witnessing the fool Fudge run the Ministry like a blumbering moron. I accepted it all, and let everything go.” He sighed and shook his head. “However, I may not have been resisting the curse, but there were times when I broke out of it without intending to.” 

Harry hid in his dad’s arms as he saw that Crouch Senior glanced his way. 

“When I accompanied Mr. Lupin to the first trial, and he began to walk down the dark path to the wyvern cage, I was reminded of sending my son to Azkaban. The memory caused me to break the curse, albeit temporarily.” Crouch Senior continued. 

Harry had forgotten about that moment, but when it was mentioned again, he recalled that Crouch Senior had grabbed his arm and begged him not to go. He had even apologised, if Harry remembered correctly. 

“The second time I broke out of it was during the second trial, when I encountered the werewolf and his dog. That was-” Crouch Senior continued to speak, but he was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore. 

“The suspect may only address Professor Lupin by his last name or his title,” he said. “Attempting to slander the people present will in no way be in your favor. I must say that I am surprised. I believe you stated yourself to be aware of your situation.” He leaned his head to the side, smiling softly at Crouch Senior. 

The man blinked, then quietly composed himself and tried once more. “The second time was when I encountered Professor Lupin and his dog. The dog reacted to me in a very strange manner, almost as if it was having an attack of some kind. Its expression reminded me of Junior, whenever he broke the curse, he looked upon me in that manner…” For the first time since he began speaking, Crouch Senior avoided looking at anyone in the room. 

Remus held his own son closer to his chest, as the story which Crouch Senior was telling him made him feel disgusted and terrified. He loved his son with all his heart, and he couldn't imagine a world where a parent would hurt their own child to the point where a frightened animal which was dripping froth from the mouth out of fear reminded that parent of their child. He had been disgusted with Crouch for many reasons previously to learning about his abuse of his son. Yet the knowledge of the Imperius Curse added a new dimension to Remus’ loathing for Crouch Senior. 

“I’m not even going to attempt to claim to be sorry about it!” Crouch Junior hissed out. “You deserved it, I don’t regret cursing you in return, you monster.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Crouch Senior sighed. Yet again, he lowered his head into his hands. “I was always expecting that these things would come back to me, sooner or later. I’m more surprised that you allowed me to live at all.” 

Crouch Junior flinched at the last words, then quickly turned away, curling together under the dog. “I… I… I’m not a murderer!” He spoke almost defensively. “I didn’t mean to make that happen to Moody! I’m not going to commit patricide, then I would be legally worse than you.” 

Crouch Senior opened his mouth, then slowly shut it again. A bitter smile grew on his lips. “You could have been a lawyer. Perhaps even a judge.” 

“And that’s why I chose to be a Gryffindor…” Crouch Junior muttered to the dog in his lap. “Those aren’t my dreams, it’s just what you want.” 

“Harry, would you answer young Mr. Crouch’s question from earlier?” Professor Snape turned towards Harry, his face settled into an emotionless mask. “I believe that he should know how his Dark Lord responded to the return of his supposedly disloyal Death Eaters.” 

Harry carefully sat up, turning towards the young Death Eater, who looked at Harry with hopeful eyes. He knew that his next words were not going to be what Crouch Junior wanted to hear. The Dark Lord was not exclusively loving or gentle towards this young Death Eater. He hadn’t actually punished those Death Eaters who hadn’t been loyal, nor had he been angry with them. Crouch Junior wanted desperately to be the only good and virtuous Death Eater, the one who was beloved above all else, but he simply wasn’t. 

“He di-” 

The door flew open next to Harry and Remus, colliding hard with the side of Remus’ foot. The man grunted, but the impact didn’t appear to have hurt him too much, since it had hit the side and not his toes. 

“I have assembled two guards and secured a location where the criminal may be kept.” Percy Weasley announced loudly, smiling proudly, his hair utterly out of place. His face was slightly red, revealing that he had been running around, evidently exhausting himself. He was out of breath, but forced his voice to remain steady. 

“Two criminals.” Professor Dumbledore corrected the Minister’s secretary.

Crouch Senior stood up from behind the desk, and slowly approached Weasley. Weasley looked at the man, he opened his mouth to object, but when Crouch Senior handed his wand over to him, he choked on his words. 

“Indeed. Two criminals.” Crouch Senior confirmed without emotion. He stood next to Weasley, the model prisoner, calm and collected, without any intention of running away. 

“Or perhaps a single criminal, and an abused child.” Professor Dumbledore mused softly, as he glanced towards Crouch Junior, who slowly tried to get up from underneath the dog. 

The young adult blinked, then raised his head as he looked towards the Headmaster with surprise and uncertainty. Then, a flicker of hope passed over his face, as he realised that he might not have to return to Azkaban, or his father. Headmaster Dumbledore’s words held the promise of something better for him, a life beyond the horror of being under his father’s curse. Thus, the young man presented his wand to the Ministry’s secretary, although he clearly hesitated to part from it. It appeared that he had kept his own wand with him, but mostly used Moody’s to perform magic around others. 

“Well then, come along, you two…” Weasley turned to father and son Crouch, who determinedly avoided looking at one another. He led them from the room, keeping his own wand at the ready as they disappeared from view. 

Before they left, Harry noticed that Crouch Junior slowly followed the man. His body appeared stiff, he walked with a slight limp, and seemed to struggle to move his limbs. The overuse of Polyjuice elixir over a considerable amount of time had clearly taken its toll on his body. Harry couldn’t help but hope that someone would notice and support him. 

“Young Mr. Lupin…” Professor Dumbledore spoke carefully to the teenager, turning towards him. “I hesitate to ask this of you, but we must ask you what happened to you tonight. It will not be easy for you, but I fear that I must request this of you, as you were the only one who witnessed the resurrection of the Dark Lord.” 

Harry opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. He swallowed, and slowly tried again. This time, he managed to speak up. It was hard, but with the help of Professor Snape and his mind reading abilities, Harry slowly and painfully began to retell the story of what had happened at the graveyard, to the people gathered in the foreign room which had once been so familiar. 

Chapter Text

“I’m bringing Harry home tonight,” Remus said, holding on to his son. “He will not stay anywhere without me.” 

Harry has finished his retelling of all that had happened, and had been physically and emotionally exhausted to the point of simply passing out in his dad’s arms. Harry had told them about what Peter had done, and how Peter had technically freed him, even though Diggory had been the one to save him. He had told Remus what Peter had asked Harry to say. The apology caused mixed feelings in the dad, who was not ready to forgive a man who had cut his son open and stolen his blood, even if he had healed Harry afterwards.

Remus was tightly holding on to his child, experiencing feelings similar to the ones he had felt when he had held the baby who would grow up to be his son in his arms for the first time. He felt a fierce desire to protect his son, and the need to keep him safe at the cost of everything else. Unknowingly to Remus, it was a feeling which was very similar to the one which Lily Potter had felt the night that she lost her life protecting her son. 

“You can’t go back home now.” Severus’s voice was stern as he spoke back to his partner. “Crouch Junior told us that they know where you live. If the Dark Lord sends his Death Eaters after Harry to silence him, they will no doubt start in your home.” 

Remus bit his lower lip and hugged his son tighter to his chest. He knew that his partner was right. “Then where do we stay?” He mumbled as his eyes wandered to the Headmaster. 

“You of course have my permission to stay at Hogwarts.” Professor Dumbledore didn’t hesitate in extending his home to the man and his child. 

“Could I perhaps borrow this room again?” Remus looked to the Headmaster still, but he was not the one to answer first. 

“Of course you shall stay in my room.” Severus’ eyes, which had been troubled until that point, reflected kindness as he looked upon his partner. “It will not be especially troublesome to arrange beds for everyone.”

Remus felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him as he smiled at his partner. His shoulders fell slightly, and he began to relax. The light was beginning to hurt his eyes, and words were slowly but surely not making sense any longer. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he had ever meant something more than he meant those words. 

Things were quickly becoming too much. Far too much. The safety of being with Severus was just what he needed for the moment. 

“Severus,” Professor Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet. “After you’ve taken your guests to your office, I ask that you attend to your duties as the Head of Slytherin. I’m certain that many parents and relatives took their children home after the discovery of Mr. Diggory's murdered body. When I left to attend to the kidnapping of Mr. Lupin, I placed the most capable Madame Maxime to handle manners, but I must return to my own work.” He began walking towards the door. 

“I will see to it, Headmaster.” Severus turned towards Remus. “Can you stand?” The voice which asked was faint as he noticed that his partner was approaching a sensory overload, and refrained from speaking too loudly so as to not worsen the situation. 

“I can…” Remus let his eyes close for a few seconds, during which he took a few deep breaths. Then he slowly rose to his feet. He noticed that Sirius was right next to him and he knew that if Sirius had possessed human arms at that moment, he would have been supporting him. The awareness of this made Remus smile gently at his old friend before he followed Severus to his office. 

Remus gently placed his son down in Severus’s bed, and tucked him in. He felt a little nostalgic to do such a thing, as he generally didn’t tuck his son in anymore. Harry was a little too old for that. Remus closed the door after leaving Harry with a glass of water, before he sat down heavily in the armchair which he himself had transfigured on a few occasions. It felt like a very long time, but Remus wasn’t sure how long ago it had been. 

It didn’t take long for Sirius to come sit close by him. Remus didn’t raise his head as his old friend transformed back into a human and sat down in front of the fire. Sirius looked a little odd as he now wore his dog shirt on top of his other clothes. It was a good thing that his animagus shape was large enough that the shirt wouldn’t be broken when he turned back into a human. It also meant that Sirius was wearing the blue dog collar, entirely mismatched with either clothes or dog shirt. The fire cast dark shadows over them both, as they both stared into the flickering lights. They sat silent for a while, the two of them weighed down by their own thoughts. 

“Hey, Rem…?” Sirius finally spoke up. “You’re not planning on forgiving Pete, are you?” He didn’t look up, but instead continued to stare into the flames. 

Remus sighed before twisting his body, turning away from the fire to face the door. He watched it, longing for his partner to return. Yet he also wanted to keep it under guard, should something else try to enter through the only entrance to the office. 

“I really don’t think Peter matters in all of this, Sirius.” He sighed as he rubbed his own forehead, trying to massage the aching tiredness away by letting his fingers massage certain pressure points upon his scalp. 

“Doesn’t matter?” Sirius sounded annoyed. “He resurrected Voldemort! If we has just killed him back then, we-” 

“Shut up, Sirius.” Remus had never once used that tone with his friend, even if he had wanted to many times. All his tiredness, worry and exhaustion fused together, resulting in him placing more emphasis on the first two words than he had ever had planned to. “My son was nearly murdered tonight, not once but twice. A minor died to protect him. I’ve had to listen to a disgusting excuse of a parent speaking about how he cursed his son into absolute obedience. I’ve had to face a stranger bringing my father up to hurt me. The Dark Lord has returned from the dead, but you want me to be angry with Peter? Well, I’m not. I don’t care about Peter, he is the least of my problems right now.” 

Sirius stared at him, his expression reflecting disbelief and surprise. He had pulled himself back a little, his eyes wide as they studied the far larger man before him, who hadn’t ever dared speak to him like that. Slowly, a small smile spread over Sirius’ lips. 

Sirius let out a weak huff, then rested his head on his knees and stared back into the fire, still smiling to himself. “Yeah… I... You are right. Peter doesn’t matter right now.” 

Remus swallowed back the reaction to apologise. He had never dreamt that Sirius would give him such a mellow response, but he appreciated that he didn’t argue. 

The animagus stared into the flames in silence as almost a minute floated by with Remus staring at the door, hoping that Severus would return soon. 

“So, uh… Since we can’t go back home,” Sirius broke the silence, “I was thinking that we could always go to that grim old place…” He sounded hesitant, his words were more fleeting than they were secure or assertive. He spoke the last three words with such an unclear tone of voice that Remus didn’t perceive them at first. 

“Grimmauld place?” He echoed. “Is that a street address? What are you talking about?” The last sentence came off as a lot more demanding than Remus had planned. 

Sirius licked his lips, still staring into the fire. “I’m saying that… The safest place for you, Harry and me to be right now, might actually be in my family home. The Black estate.” He grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, staring into the flames so fiercely that he appeared to be considering jumping into them. “And no, that is not the street address. I just call it the grim old place.” 

Remus found himself slowly blinking at his old friend as he thought Sirius’ words over, or rather, the meaning behind what he was saying. Sirius was offering to bring him and Harry to his family home, the house which Remus had never seen with his own eyes, or been allowed to know that much about. After the death of Walpurga Black, the estate had fallen to her younger son, but Regulus Black had disappeared as well, and after enough time had passed for him to be declared dead, the inheritance of the house and the Black fortune had fallen to the closest living relative: Sirius. Remus could only imagine how upset that would have made Walpurga Black, who had tried her utmost to remove Sirius from everything regarding the Blacks, only for Sirius to end up her only living heir. 

They only knew about this arrangement because Sirius had been informed of his inheritance when he went to Gringotts Bank to see if he could take out some money. He later used that money to buy a broom for his godson, which had ended up with Marcus Flint. Remus still couldn’t believe how Sirius had managed that without being caught by the authorities, but he somehow had. 

Sirius had hated his family home with such a fierce passion that he had fled it. If he considered going back to it for the sake of Remus and Harry, then it truly meant that he was willing to inconvenience himself greatly for the sake of their safety. 

“Besides, Kreacher is there, I’d think, and he would be able to perform duties outside of the house, even if we were to be stuck inside it for safety.” Sirius continued, finally daring to look up at Remus. There were hints of fear and regret in his eyes, but it was overpowered by determination. “I could probably call that House Elf right now, he would have to come.” 

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the door opened behind him. He was on his feet before he had registered that he wanted to stand, turned towards the door with his wand in his hand. However, the people who entered were so far from dangerous that his arm quickly lowered again, as if moved by a power which didn’t belong to the stressed father. 

“Is Harry in the other room?” Draco Malfoy asked as soon as his old teacher had recognised him. He had been let in by Severus, and appeared to not have the energy to spend on being upset that he had been mistaken for a threat. 

“Yes, he is sleeping.” Remus stepped to the side. “Tell me if he wakes up, he needs to eat. He has lost a lot of blood.” As he spoke, Remus heard his own voice falter and crack, as it was crushed under the realisation that he hadn’t been able to keep his son safe. He tried to not blame himself, but upon recognising that Harry had lost a lot of blood, he felt the self loathing burn through him, just like it used to when he was young. 

Draco Malfoy noted none of this, and instead stepped past his cousin by the fire and entered Severus’ private chambers without any traces of hesitation. Severus looked tired, almost haunted, in the unforgiving light of the fire, which entered every crease upon the men’s faces, causing them to appear ghosts of themselves. Remus wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms, but he couldn’t allow himself such a luxury just yet. 

“Has something more happened?” It was better to ask right away, and not allow the questions to fester. Remus wasn’t sure if he could bring all these topics up again once this day was behind him. 

“...Yes.” Severus hesitated before he allowed himself to fall down in the armchair, hiding his face in his hands as the events of the evening were tearing him apart also. “Do not think of me in that manner.” Severus softly scolded Remus, who had been unable to not worry about him. “If it is you, you may touch me, always.” 

Remus felt how his lips settled into a soft smile, and he sat down before his partner, gently touching his leg. The two of them couldn’t fit in the armchair without sitting on one another, but there was an excess of space upon the floor, which was not as cold as it could have been without the fire. Touching Severus felt so wonderful that Remus lay his head in his lap without thinking too hard about it, allowing his eyes to close as exhaustion washed over him, almost causing him to faint upon his partner. 

Severus' hands began to pet him, gently stroking over his scalp and tracing old scars which couldn’t be seen through Remus’ hair. Coaxed by those hands, Remus began to relax further, allowing himself to come undone by the seams under his partner’s care. Slow, heavy tears began to roll down his cheeks, although he didn’t really make a sound while he cried. 

“What happened?” Sirius turned towards the two other adults, his gaze focusing on Severus to allow Remus some manner of privacy. 

“Percy Weasley has caused both Crouch Senior and Junior to be exposed to a dementor’s kiss each.” Severus spoke the words in a direct, almost calm manner, but the small twitches of his lips and next to his eyes revealed his true feelings on the topic. 

“What?” Sirius’ response was quick, angry and emotional. He jumped to his feet, his expression resembling the rage which he had shown in the Shrieking Shack last year. “Why didn’t anyone stop him? That kid… That guy had been tricked by Reg, he wasn’t… he wasn’t bad! That… how could they?”

“Sit down,” Severus’s response was tired. Remus could smell the guilt off him, his partner was evidently blaming himself for the situation as well. “Calm yourself, your anger will accomplish nothing at this point.” Severus took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued. “It is very much chaotic out there, the audience fled, and the Aurors had to step in as many stalls caught fire, or were destroyed. It appears that Weasley didn’t manage to find anything to guard the two Crouches but the two dementors which had been placed inside the maze. Not only where the two men left alone, but they were left alone with dementors.” 

Remus and Sirius both stared at the Potions Master, both in equal disbelief that such a thing had happened. 

“But Mr. Weasley… he didn’t stay with them?” Remus slowly asked, trying to wrap his head around the idea that those two men, who had argued, spoken and even cried on the younger one’s part, were gone. A single mistake, a moment of carelessness, and their entire minds had been stolen from them. It was almost too unfathomable to comprehend, too impossible to imagine. 

“No, he left for some reason, he would not disclose why.” Severus glanced down at his partner, then looked up once more to keep an eye on Sirius, who was still fuming with anger. “I went to confirm his words, the dementors have been removed from Hogwarts, but the damage is already done. Neither of them are responsive in the least. Their thoughts, their minds are… empty.” A flicker of fear passed over Severus’ face. There were plenty of things which the mind reader did not allow himself to fear, but the experience of standing next to a person, and perceiving their previously active mind as utterly static surpassed his own enforced limits, and caused him great distress. 

“Crouch should have produced a Patronus Charm! He should have done something to keep his son safe, after failing for so long!” Sirius raised his voice, forgetting that Harry was sleeping in the other room. 

“Sit down.” Severus didn’t ask this time, but made a clear demand. “Crouch had no wand and had been under the Imperius Curse for almost a year. He was in no state to cast a patronus. If you are done with your pointless blaming, sit down and stop disturbing the children.” 

At the reminder of Harry and Draco Malfoy, Sirius finally sat down. He curled together and pressed his forehead against his knees, hugging his legs, still cursing under his breath. 

“Severus,” Remus sat up slightly and dried his eyes. His head felt a little clearer after he had cried, even if he felt tired nonetheless. “Sirius has offered me and Harry a home with him at the Black estate, I am considering accepting, since our house isn’t safe anymore. What is your opinion?” He kept the question of what they should do back, as he didn’t want to place that pressure on his partner. 

“The Black estate?” Severus echoed, simply to confirm that he had indeed heard what he assumed he had heard. He turned towards Sirius, “the one which has hosted quite a few Death Eater meetings over the years?” 

Sirius looked up from his knees and made a face at the reminder that he came from a long line of Death Eaters and Pureblood fanatics. “Yeah, that’s the one. We can place a Concealment Charm on the house or blood-lock the door to respond to me. I don’t have any living relatives who could open if it is. Nobody would think that I would have returned there, especially not Peter. And like I told Rem, there is a House Elf there who is bound to serve me, I can use him to get things I otherwise couldn’t if we have to stay hidden.” 

Severus turned the man’s words over in his mind, critically evaluating his arguments, and then slowly nodded. “Your logic does make a surprising amount of sense. I could agree that the Black estate would be the last place a lot of people would think of, especially considering your own reputation. The Dark Lord has just recently returned to life, the resurrection ritual will have weakened him considerably, both physically and magically. Especially compared to the powers he used to possess. He does not have a large number of Death Eaters by his side, according to Harry, which means that he would not be capable of organising any search for the Lupins, be it advanced or not. None of the Death Eaters there, namely Pettigrew or Lucius Malfoy would ever consider the Black family home as a place where the three of you might hide. Further, the Black estate is well guarded with a number of hexes and curses, if I remember correctly, it could be ideal as a hiding spot.” He finished, absently stroking over Remus’ hand as he spoke. 

“I guess… all we can do is hide, huh?” Sirius muttered after a short moment of silence. “Hide, then wait for Hogwarts to open up next year, and then let Harry be safe over here?” 

The silence which followed his words was heavy, as neither adult truly wanted to be the one to state out loud that he didn’t know what to do next. Nobody had truly expected the Dark Lord to return. They might have all known that it was possible, but after more than a decade, the reality which they were faced with hadn’t needed vigilance in the face of such an event as Voldemort’s return. 

However, the resurrection of the Dark Lord did not mean that he was indestructible, or all powerful. There were still chances and opportunities which would allow the British Mage community to come together and prevent another rise of power, preventing another war. Albus Dumbledore was still alive, and he was still capable of great magic. He still had a network of friends and allies, and he believed in Harry’s words in regards to the Dark Lord’s return. It was likely that the Order of the Phoenix would rise again, like it had when times were very dire. Not all was lost, even if they all experienced themselves as rather lost. 

“Hogwarts has proven to be less safe than the world would like it to be.” Severus finally spoke up, resting his hand upon his forehead with a deep sigh. “In the last four years, two Death Eaters have infiltrated Hogwarts, the school has come under attack by a monster, and was invaded by an escaped criminal a number of times. It is possible that Hogwarts is not as safe as its reputation claims.” 

Remus let out a soft whimper, as the truth behind Severus’ words hit him. He has always considered Hogwarts safe, but that was until his own son had time and time again experienced horrors and events beyond Remus’ imagining at that very school. 

“He’ll be safer here than out there, besides, if there is a war coming, it hasn’t started yet.” Sirius objected. “And when it starts, it won’t be in this school. Hogwarts still has Dumbledore, and it still has you. Besides, nothing has broken into the Slytherin dormitory, or any other dormitory but the Gryffindor one.” 

Remus took a deep breath, then held up his hand to stop the two men from arguing. “Please, I… can’t quite handle this all right now. Me and Harry will move in with you at the Black estate, and we will take every measure to ensure our safety. I will speak to Harry about what he wants to do in terms about Hogwarts, but for now, this is enough. It’s all getting too much, and I… I want to rest.” 

The two other men studied Remus for an equal measure of time, before they both decided to not continue arguing about matters right now. 

“Severus,” Remus continued, “what will you do? Will you come with us?” He hesitated, feeling the heavy words crowd on his tongue. “Or will you return to being a spy?” 

Severus’ expression softened slightly as he reached over to stroke Remus' cheek, wiping away a tear which Remus himself hadn’t noticed was running down his own face. “For now, no. Unless he specifically sends for me, or seeks me out, I will not engage in this conflict. There are more people than I who can perform that role, and at least for now, there are other places where I should be.” 

Remus grabbed his hand, pressing it against his face as relief washed over him. 

“Wait, won’t he try and kill you for that?” Sirius' sharp voice asked, crushing Remus’ feelings of relief. 

Severus shook his head. “No, he would not do that. The Dark Lord is most terrifying in many different aspects, but he is not the murderous psychopath which modern historians and the newspapers are trying to display him as. He is highly aware of both political and social aspects of our society, and he will not waste a pawn when he still has possible future uses for it.” The former spy lightly touched his own chest as he referred to himself as a piece upon a chessboard. “He is a tyrant, but an intelligent man nonetheless. Insanity is not something which can be attributed to him, despite my earnest wish to claim that he is driven by lunacy.” 

Sirius studied his face for almost a minute, then shrugged. “If you say so. I never met him, and I don’t want to.” 

“Wise choice.” Severus responded in a softer voice than he had ever aimed towards his former bully. 

The tone of voice caused Sirius to shudder. Remus could smell satisfaction from his partner at that reaction. 

Chapter Text

A hand brushed against Harry’s cheek, slowly rousing him from his exhausted sleep. He slowly forced his eyelids to part, trying to focus but found that it was far too dark for his unadjusted eyes to make anything out. A pulse of fear throbbed through Harry as he realised that he didn’t know where he was. He tried to sit up, but a familiar voice stilled all the unrest within him, and prompted him to lay back down. 

“It’s alright, it’s just me.” Draco spoke from somewhere next to Harry, where he had made himself comfortable next to Harry upon the bed. 

Harry tried to ask where his dad was, but he couldn’t make a sound. 

Draco, whose eyes were far more used to the darkness of the room, recognised that Harry’s mouth moved, and so he passed him the glass of water. Harry needed help to drink, but afterwards, he was at the very least able to speak. 

“Are you real?” He asked his boyfriend, fearing that he had somehow been lost to dreams, or worse. 

Draco blinked down at him, before a pained smile spread over his lips. “Oh, Harry…” He moved higher up on the bed before simply laying down upon Harry, wrapping his arms around his neck without placing his entire weight on the smaller teenager. “I’m real, and you are safe. You’re in Professor Snape’s private chambers, your father is just outside the door, should I retrieve him for you?” 

Harry closed his eyes as he pressed his nose against Draco’s neck, breathing in the most familiar scent in the world, with the exception of his own scent. He wanted to hug Draco, but he couldn’t move his arms. This was as much as he could muster for the moment. 

“It’s fine…” Harry mumbled against his boyfriend’s neck. He didn’t really want to speak, or rather, he didn’t trust that he could speak. “Can you stay?” 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving you.” Draco turned around, carefully moving an arm under Harry’s neck and adjusting their position until he was holding Harry against his chest, letting his boyfriend cuddle up to him. Just like they had done so many times in the past. 

Harry felt himself melt into the embrace, feeling almost equally safe in Draco’s arms as he did in Remus’. The two lay together in silence for a while, their breaths filling the silent space, which was every now and then interrupted by faint voices from outside the door as the adults spoke with one another. 

“Are you alright?” Harry finally gathered enough energy to ask his boyfriend what he had wanted to ask since he woke up. He hadn’t felt ready to listen to another story so soon after listening to Crouch Junior’s, and having to retell his own, but now that he had been allowed to rest, he felt ready to hear what Draco had to say. 

“I’m fine,” Draco’s response was swift and to the point, “none of us were hurt. I believe I might have gotten a bruise, but that is beyond insignificant to me for the moment.” 

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful to hear. What happened to you? I can’t take a lot, please keep it short.” 

“Before that, Professor Lupin asked me to make sure that you got something to eat since you’ve lost a lot of blood. Do you think you can eat or do you need some more time to recover?” Draco tried to study Harry’s face in the dark, but he couldn’t quite make anything out, mostly due to the fact that Harry was hiding his face against Draco’s chest. 

“You can speak first. I will eat later.” Harry didn’t feel capable of chewing and swallowing at that moment. The thought of food alone made him feel rather disgusted. It was hard enough to drink water. Harry could acknowledge that he needed water in a way he couldn’t with food, which wasn’t true, as he ideally needed both. 

Draco appeared to consider arguing, but he decided against it. “As you wish, but if it gets too much for you, please tell me to stop.” 

Harry nodded, but quickly wished that he hadn’t, as moving his head up and down made it spin and throb. He chose to fight it by closing his eyes, finding solace in the darkness behind his eyelids. 

Draco began to speak, his fingers softly stroking over Harry’s head and played with his hair as he retold the events which he had experienced through the evening. “After you returned, we tried our best to get down from the stands, but the crowd was dense, and we were separated from the adults. We realised that we couldn’t get down, so we gathered at the top of the stands instead to survey the situation. Up from the stands, I saw my cousin run towards Hogwarts, I assume that he was tracing your scent. He was followed by Professor Remus. Soon enough, I noted that Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, and Ronald’s brother followed as well, but I don’t know what caused them to do such a thing.” 

“Madame Maxime tried to keep the crowd under control, but they were close to hysterical, and would not heed her or the Aurors. Headmaster Karkaroff disappeared somewhere during that chaos.” Draco stopped to make certain that he wasn’t overloading Harry with his retelling. When his boyfriend appeared to be at least fine, he continued to speak. 

“Mrs. Weasley found us at the top of those stands, and she demanded that everyone come with her and Mr. Weasley so that they could bring us to the Burrow. Hermione, Neville, Teddy, Ronald and Lovegood are all safe with her, but I refused to come along without you.” Draco stopped himself when he realised that he was directly stating that Harry’s safety was more important to him than his own. He cleared his throat and then continued speaking, deciding to not think excessively about his own statement or reasonings at that moment.  

“I joined the group of students which returned to Hogwarts, in difference to most of the visitors who ran the other way, towards Hogsmeade, where they likely apparated away. A lot of things had been broken and smashed, and the Aurors were struggling to keep fires from spreading as some of the food stalls had caught on fire. It was all very chaotic, but I won’t dwell on it.” He added when he noticed that Harry began to appear unfocused. Indeed, dwelling on chaos and recollection of it was probably not ideal for the wounded teenager’s mind. 

“The Slytherin group of students were led to the common room by a teacher, I didn’t catch who, and then we waited until Professor Snape arrived. I of course approached him to ask about you, and I was told to follow him. On our way here, Ronald's brother, I mean to say, the Minister’s secretary, approached us about an incident with dementors. I… have never seen…” He halted himself once more, as this topic was likely not ideal for his boyfriend to hear about either. 

Thus, Draco continued on. “Professor Snape told me a summary of what happened to you. I won’t ask, and you shouldn’t speak of it right now. I was brought here, and have been with you since. You’ve slept somewhat uneasy, but I couldn’t wake you up until now. I was starting to… No, now isn’t the time. I’m so very glad that you are safe.” He breathed out the words in a sigh as he pulled him closer. Harry felt so small in his arms, so utterly frail and so painfully, wonderfully alive. Draco bit back the urge to cry, he truly didn’t want to place his own emotions upon his partner at the moment, as Harry was currently very emotionally fragile. 

“I’m glad that you are safe too…” Harry forced his arm up over the covers and placed it over his boyfriend’s body, weakly grabbing onto his shirt. “Are everyone… really alright?” Harry didn’t have the energy to ask more details about the dementor’s kiss. The less he knew about that for the moment, the better. 

“They are safe with the Weasleys.” Draco assured him. 

“Then… may I sleep some more…?” Harry mumbled, already feeling his mind slipping away from him. He was beginning to feel like it might be alright to let himself fall back into the darkness of unawareness yet again. 

“Go ahead, dear.” Draco gently kissed his boyfriend on his head, he wasn’t planning on letting the other go anytime soon, but if Harry needed to sleep, he wasn’t going to keep him awake. “I will be here when you wake up.” 

“Mnm…” Harry agreed with a sigh, no longer remembering how to speak. He was allowed to drift off. 

Harry slept more calmly in his boyfriend’s arms than he had while alone. When nightmares caused him to stir or whimper, he was soothed by Draco’s whispered words, or the touch of his hands. 

The next day did not unfold in a way which anyone would have expected. The day before had been special because it marked the final task of the Trimagus Tournament. This day was special because it marked the day following a murder of a minor, whose body had been witnessed by a great number of observes. 

Many people had fled from Hogwarts the previous day, yet everyone did not have the ability to apparate, and had been forced to leave through other means. In most students' case, they had no choice but to remain at Hogwarts overnight, and return home the following day, either with help from their families or friends who could apparate, or by the Hogwarts Express. Most packed their belongings and hurried to the Hogwarts Express, which was scheduled to leave the day after, but the date had been moved forward after the events of the previous night. 

Nobody was interested in gathering in the Great Hall for any reason, thus, no speeches were held, no memorial for Cedric Diggory took place, and the Headmaster had no chance to address his students that year. The students were fed in their common rooms, but the usual noise and excitement had been replaced with a heavy silence, broken only by people who tried their best to not allow the sudden death of a fellow student affect them. 

Harry, Draco, Remus, and Sirius, not in his animal shape, spent the morning together in Professor Snape’s office. The Head of the Slytherin House had duties to attend to, and he couldn’t remain with them. Thus, the four remained on their own, eating their breakfast in silence. Harry had to be urged to eat by his dad. As he ate, he was informed of the fact that the Lupin family would have to move. Harry was too exhausted to notice that the two adults made certain to not mention any details about their new home in front of Draco. 

Nobody had expected the knock which sounded upon the door to Professor Snape’s office. Sirius transformed in a flurry of body parts, fur and at the cost of the jam bread that he had been slowly forcing down his own throat. 

Remus stood up from the floor, as the group had elected to eat in front of the fire, which by now was only remnants of what it had been the day before. He held his wand in one hand, although he did not raise it towards the door like he had the last night. The wand was simply a safety measure, Remus hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it. 

On the other side of the door stood Narcissa Malfoy. She was dressed as impeccable as always, and her makeup and hair were styled into perfection, and yet she gave off the air of being deeply distressed. Remus, who had been prepared for a lot of things, but not the sour, lingering scent of despair, took a step back. 

“I… Is… Severus here?” Narcissa’s voice was very weak as she spoke up, curling together slightly, her gaze trying to pass Remus and see inside the room. 

“Mother?” Draco joined Remus by the door, having recognised her voice despite not seeing her face. He stepped into view from the door as Remus moved back to allow the woman to come inside. 

“Draco…!” She breathed out a sigh of relief as she approached her son and pulled him into her arms, forgetting for a moment to uphold her own desired image of herself in her relief to see her child. 

Draco returned the hug, which didn’t last as long as the average hugs between father and son Lupin. “How come you are here? Were you searching for me or the Professor?” He stepped back from his mother so that he could look up at her, choosing to speak to her face rather than her corset. 

“Both, dear.” She responded as she corrected an imaginary imperfection upon her skirts. “I… I hastened to speak to Severus, I… You see…” She struggled to speak, but valiantly continued her efforts until she managed to formulate herself to the people gathered. “It’s your father… He, Lucius, is gone.” Her voice broke as she uttered the reason as to why she had hurried from her home early in the morning. “I’ve heard terrible things on my way to this office, would someone please tell me what has happened? Surely, a child hasn’t been killed?” She turned to Remus then, her misery becoming more and more evident as she continued to speak. 

“Narcissa, would you like to sit down?” Remus showed towards the armchair, offering it to her without touching her. “Why do you believe that your husband has disappeared?” 

She hesitated to sit down upon the armchair, which clearly offended her personal preferences, but she sat down nonetheless, her posture straight and proper despite the distress which she was keeping back. She took a deep breath, but before she managed to speak up, Snuffles approached her, and sat down in front of her. He raised a paw to try and put it upon her, but the woman avoided it. She stared down at the dog, her nose scrunching slightly. 

“What is it wearing?” She demanded to know. 

“It’s simply a shirt, mother.” Draco tried not to sigh, but Harry noticed that he hadn’t quite managed to hide said sigh. 

“My dogs would never attempt to touch a stranger without permission.” Narcissa Malfoy avoided the paw once more as Snuffles tried to put it upon her shoe this time. “Not to mention that that shirt is beyond ridiculous. Remus, surely you don’t find this shirt to be fashionable, do you?” 

“He is a therapy dog, mother. I suppose he might assume that you need consoling.” Draco appeared to find the scene before him somewhat amusing, as he watched his mother and cousin strive to avoid and touch the other respectively. 

“The shirt was a gift…” Remus carefully excused himself. “He won’t allow me to take it off.” 

“Well… I suppose he is just doing his job…” Narcissa Malfoy carefully reached out and gave the dog a distinct two pats upon his head with her gloved hand. “Your work is finished. Off with you.” 

Snuffles moved over to sit next to Harry. He gave the teenager a doggy grin and wagged his tail. Harry offered him a tired smile back, before patting the dog’s chest while turning his focus to Mrs. Malfoy. 

“When I woke up this morning, Lucius was gone. He sometimes gets up earlier than me, but he always leaves me a message through one of the servants. Yet this morning, nobody knew where he had gone. I asked around, I even spoke with the House Elves, but none in our household knows where he has gone. This has not happened since…” She suddenly stopped speaking and promptly avoided everyone’s gaze. 

“...Since the Mage War?” Remus very carefully spoke up, sparing the woman from having to discuss her husband’s connection to the Death Eaters. 

She glanced at the scarred man, who was her husband’s enemy through means of political association. Remus was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a werewolf, not to mention the father of Harry Potter. He was everything which Narcissa Malfoy’s house and family should be opposed to, and yet here he was, offering her a kindness which not even her own family would spare her. A dignity which her own sister would not grant her. 

“Yes.” 

The Malfoy house, friends of werewolves, Muggle-borns and of Harry Potter. 

“Yes, since then.” Mrs. Malfoy confessed. “Then I come here to ask Severus for assistance, and I hear that a child has been killed in a terrorist attack. Draco, oh, Draco, are you alright? Were you hurt?” She turned towards her child, her worry didn’t allow her to focus on one thing for a longer amount of time. 

“I am fine mother,” Draco glanced towards his boyfriend, he was beginning to worry that Harry might become overwhelmed if the conversation continued upon this path. 

Harry felt himself slowly approach a sensory overload, and was thus doing his utmost to remain collected by means of not focusing on the conversation which was happening before him. 

To Harry’s great relief, the door opened and Professor Snape entered his office to find that Mrs. Malfoy had joined the group of people he was currently hosting. The Potions Master blinked, but gathered himself quickly. 

“Severus,” the woman got to her feet and hurried over to him, her entire being projecting relief. “I need your assistance, Lucius has disappeared!” 

He looked her over as a confused expression formed and dissolved upon his face as he read Mrs. Malfoy’s mind, unknowingly to her. “I...Understand. Would you allow me to attend to some things before I assist you.” 

She looked slightly disapproving over having her needs placed aside, but she was not as spoiled or ignorant to believe that her old friend would simply place her above all else. Thus, the woman nodded, returning to the seat upon the armchair. 

“Remus,” the Potions Master turned towards his partner. “Would you wait outside with the dog and the children? I wish to speak with Narcissa alone. Rather, could you perhaps wait for us in the entrance hall?” 

“Of course.” Remus smiled at his partner, then turned towards Harry and Draco. 

The latter very evidently didn’t enjoy being referred to as a ‘child’ but Harry couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

The entrance Hall of Hogwarts was eerily quiet to Harry, and it felt oddly cold. Harry couldn’t remember feeling this cold in the entrance hall even during winter, which led him to wonder if he might have a fever. Harry sat down upon the stairs which led to the upper floors of Hogwarts, and curled together there, staring around the empty hall as he tried hard to not recall the events of yesterday. 

Draco sat down by his side, and Harry rested against him, placing his full weight upon his boyfriend. Draco didn’t object, he simply sat with Harry, the two of them saying nothing as they both listened for any sign that something was alive in the castle which felt utterly desolate. 

Remus gently nudged Snuffles, and together they walked around the hall, thus giving the two boyfriends some space while also getting the chance to confirm that they truly were alone in the hall. The hall was empty of all but them, but Remus and Snuffles didn’t quite feel safe until they had investigated all the corners and studied the hidden spaces to find them empty. 

Draco studied the man and the dog as his hand found Harry’s and held onto it. Harry squeezed the hand back, but without too much passion. Draco would understand even if Harry didn’t have the strength to truly return the gesture the same way he had through most of the years. 

“...It feels like a lot of things will change now…” Harry finally gathered himself enough to mumble out the words which nobody really wanted to speak. 

“Things are always changing, at least a little.” Draco tried to console his boyfriend with a reminder that things simply changing wasn’t necessarily or automatically a bad thing. 

The reminder did help Harry feel somewhat less morose, and he decided to attempt to squeeze the other’s hand a little tighter to communicate his feelings of gratitude. Another feeling washed over him, causing Harry to have to close his eyes to not allow himself to be dragged down and drowned by those emotions. He breathed deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, but the feeling didn’t quite reside. He had to speak up, or he felt that the feeling would never leave his body. 

“Draco?” 

“Yes?” Draco looked down at Harry, having previously been studying the man and the dog as they investigated. He had just noticed his mother’s head appearing by the entrance to the dungeons when Harry had spoken to him. She was accompanied shortly by Professor Snape, the two of them walking side by side. 

“I…” The feelings clustered in his chest, in his throat, upon his tongue. They made his heart race, his head ache, and his stomach tighten. “I love you.” 

Draco blinked at first, but then, his expression settled into an honest, happy smile. He placed his hand upon Harry’s cheek, and hastily leaned in to kiss his forehead, like he enjoyed doing. 

Harry closed his eyes as his bangs were brushed aside, allowing himself to enjoy the feelings of his boyfriend’s inexperienced lips against his scarred forehead. His own lips molded themselves into a soft smile. Harry felt like it had been years since he had been able to smile. 

“I love you too.” Draco whispered, making sure that the words were only for Harry, and nobody else in the room. 

Harry couldn’t help but giggle as the words which he had hoped and desired to hear entered his ear and etched themselves upon his heart, as permanent as the scar on his forehead. Harry felt as if he was being filled by the words, as if every heartbeat pumped them through his blood until they had circled through him and become a part of him. Draco had said that he loved him. He loved him in return. Feeling loved was wonderful. 

The son of a werewolf and the son of a Death Eater held on to each other’s hands tightly, both of them smiling at the other after having dared to express their honest feelings out loud for the first time. 

Things would change, as things always do, but they would have one another. 

Chapter Text

HOGWARTS CHAMPION MURDERED BY TERRORISTS!

On the evening of June 24th, Cedric Diggory’s body was discovered after he had won the third trial of the Trimagus Tournament! The orchestrators behind the death has been found and arrested, as the British mage community grieves its champion.

Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts champion in the Trimagus Tournament, was discovered dead after a Portkey was activated upon the touch of Harry Potter, bringing both boys to an unknown location. Onlookers of the third trial were shocked when Diggory and Potter disappeared from the stage as celebrations for Hogwarts first victory were being held. Upon their return, Diggory was dead and Potter was injured and suffering from blood loss. Potter has hitherto been unavailable for any comments, and spokespeople from the Ministry of Magic claims that he will not be available anytime soon. 

Cedric Diggory lost his life in a terrorist attack, according to some witnesses, he appeared to have died protecting the younger boy with his own body, after his leg had been gravely injured by some manner of explosive magic. The exact spell has not been disclosed as of yet. The champion of Durmstrang Institute and famous Quidditch player Victor Krum comments on the death, calling Diggory 'a hero.'

“Cedric Diggory was a highly capable mage. He would not have stopped fighting even at the cost of a leg. It is clear to me that he sacrificed everything in an attempt to get him [Potter] back to home. Cedric died a hero. He should be remembered as one.” 

The Hogwarts Board of Governors and the Trimagus Tournament committee has announced with the full support of the champions that Cedric Diggory has been announced as the Trimagus Tournament Champion in honor of his memory and his bravery. His loss to a stray group of terrorists, likely the same ones which attacked the Quidditch World Cup, is a loss for the British Mage community. 

“Ced would have been Minister of Magic one day.” Claims his grieving father, Amos Diggory. “He was not meant to die this young.” 

The British Mage community grieves for Cedric Diggory, and the loss of our Hogwarts Trimagus Champion. On this day, Monday, the 26th of June, may you never be forgotten to the tides of time. 

FORMER MINISTER OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT AND SON ARRESTED!

On the 24th of June, Former Minister of Magical Law Enforcement and current Minister of International Magic Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch Sr and his son, Bartemius Crouch Jr, were arrested on suspicion of involvement in the death of Cedric Diggory.

The former Minister of Magical Law Enforcement and current Minister of International Magic Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch Sr was arrested on the night of Saturday. He is facing charges of orchestrating the murder of Cedric Diggory together with his son, notorious and outspoken Death Eater Bartemius Crouch Jr, who was previously assumed dead after having been subjected to a life sentence in Azkaban by his very own father. 

As the former Head of Magical Law Enforcement Bartemius Crouch Sr had a reputation of being merciless towards Death Eaters, often using immoral methods or spells to force the suspects to admit their guilt, few people were surprised when he used the same methods upon his own son. Since the Mage War, Crouch Sr’s methods have been criticised heavily, and he was removed from his position and transferred to work as the Minister of International Magic Cooperation. 

However, the reveal of the alive Crouch Jr, and the conclusion that Crouch Sr was involved with the son’s escape from Azkaban, confirms that despite all his enforced justice, the mad Minister couldn’t actually uphold his principles in his own household. Some outspoken members of the community are stating their relief that Crouch Sr was never allowed to become Minister of Magic, as had no doubt been his goal throughout the Mage War. 

The Crouches are facing collective charges for a number of crimes. Both Crouch Snr and Jr are suspected to have murdered Alastor Moody, whose body has yet to be recovered, in a plot which involved the younger Crouch infiltrating Hogwarts under the guise of former Auror Moody through the use of Polyjuice elixir. The plot itself revolves around kidnapping Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, and delivering him to their fellow Death Eaters so that he might be killed in a futile attempt to appease their dead Master. Yet their plans were destroyed by the brave Cedric Diggory, who gave his life to protect the icon of the British Mage community. 

Further crimes include the creation of an illegal Portkey, blood-locked to Harry Potter. The Portkey was placed inside the Trimagus Tournament maze by Crouch Sr, as Crouch Jr acquired Harry Potter’s blood during a lesson at Hogwarts centering around the performance of Dark Arts, which is against every rule at Hogwarts. The Pureblood Crouch family is also suspected of having orchestrated the attack on the Quidditch World Cup, concluding in the reveal of the Dark Mark upon the skies. 

“Their terrorist accomplices are not yet captured, but without their leader, Crouch Sr, they are likely unable to do more harm as of currently,” according to a spokesperson from the Ministry. “The Ministry is tasking the Aurors with the priority to track down these terrorists to have them answer for the murders of Mr. Diggory and Mr. Moody, as well as the assault on Harry Potter and the mage community.”

However, in a desperate attempt to escape charges, the two Pureblood fanatics Crouch instigated a plan which involved the two dementors which had been tasked to guard them by the Minister of Magic’s secretary, Percy Weasley. The two criminals cowardly incited the dementors to the point of being kissed and are now unable to stand trial or answer for their crimes against the Mage community. 

Albus Dumbledore has announced that he will personally be funding a new department at the St. Mungo's Hospital to try and restore the two men’s minds after the dementors’ kisses. Many critics are claiming that Dumbledore is wasting his time and money with this venture, but many more hope that the Crouches will be eligible to face charges one day.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CLAIMS THE RETURN OF THE DARK LORD!

In the aftermath of the murder of Cedric Diggory, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, abuses the death of a minor to further political agenda. He is facing heavy criticism for contributing Diggory’s death to the Dark Lord, rather than a weak, isolated terrorist groups.

In trying times, a community looks to its leaders or to its icons. To many, one of those icons has long since been Albus Dumbledore, the hero who defeated Gellert Grindelwald as well as a hero from the Mage War. Not to mention, a strong adversary of the deceased Dark Lord and current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, even supporters struggle to comprehend the old wizard’s paranoid claims about the resurrection of the Dark Lord. 

Many critics and worried members of the mage community have continuously been let down by the famous wizard, as Hogwarts, which was previously considered the safest place in Britain, has been targeted again and again over the past four years. Voices who previously spoke up about how it was only a matter of time before someone died, have sadly been proven right with the death of Cedric Diggory, Trimagus Tournament champion and representative of Hogwarts. 

Hogwarts has not only been infiltrated by a Death Eater this year in the form of a disguised Bartemius Crouch Jr. but has previously been targeted by Quirinus Quirrell, as well as the notorious mass murderer and Death Eater Sirius Black. Further to this, students have been terrorised by a monster in the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets, dangerous werewolf teacher, a dangerous fraud in the form of best selling author Gilderoy Lockhart, and incompetent teachers with lacking qualifications. Understandably, the members of the community are asking that Albus Dumbledore be held responsible for his lacking abilities to protect Hogwarts and its students. 

The latest proclamation from Dumbledore is further complicated by his announcement that he will personally be funding a new department at the St. Mungo's Hospital to try and restore two criminals' minds after they exposed themselves to a dementor’s kiss. Many critics are claiming that Dumbledore is wasting his time and money with this venture, but at the very least he is not forcing taxpayers to support his escapades this time. 

The Hogwarts Board of Governors has yet to be reached for a comment, but many voices are calling for the removal of Albus Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and demand that the Ministry of Magic closely examine the school and the workers to create a safe environment for the young members of our community. The Minister of Magical Education has made a statement that efforts are currently underway to improve Hogwarts, and Ministry approved educated professor Dolores Umbridge is said to have been selected to clean up Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s continuous failures.