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Chapter Text

It lunged blindly. Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry’s side. He raised the sword in both his hands.

The Basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth.

"AGGH!!!" The scream tore through his throat as he put all of his rage behind the attack. Listening to the sickening crunch of bones and rending of flesh as the blade speared through the roof of the serpent's mouth. But as he felt the vicious pain trembling through his arm, he knew that he hadn't gotten away unscathed either.

As much as he didn't want to look, he forced himself too. His eyes locking onto the gushing wound on his bicep, watch as blood tried to pour out from around the thick fang that had dug into his arm, nearly cutting through to the other side. His body shivered as he fought back the urge to vomit.

“Fuck…” Harry muttered to himself as he yanked his arm free and tried to staunch the wound with trembling, blood soaked fingers. But no amount of pressure would stop a cursed wound like this from killing him. He knew that. He just refused to do nothing about it. He refused to die like a coward.

“There are all kinds of courage,” Dumbledore spoke with those twinkling eyes and that bright smile he always wore. The voice spoke in his head, as if Dumbledore was there with him now, providing him with one last comfort as his time ran out.

A cold laugh drew his attention away from the wound. Emerald green eyes meeting a deep, dark brown. The eyes of Tom Riddle stared him down as a wide smirk crawled across his face. He’d won. And he knew it. The “great” Harry Potter was going to die. Alone and afraid in this dungeon. Long before anyone could find him.

“You were brave. Very brave.” He spoke smoothly. His voice oozed with a deadly charisma. “But also very foolish for coming here, Harry.”

Harry wanted to retort but he couldn’t as a cough tore its way through his throat. His lungs were slowly shutting down from the noxious venom killing him, and he knew he didn’t have long. He bit back the various curses and angry remarks that threatened to rip their way out of his mouth. 

Instead, he turned back to the Basilisk’s body long enough to grab a fang in his hand and yank. It left a disgusting fleshy pop as he tore the tooth from gum. Blood slowly pooling onto the slick floor beneath him as he made his way towards Ginny and that blasted diary.

“...” Tom Riddle watched him curiously. Like one might expect from a lion watching its prey before it struck. “What do you intend to do, Potter? Stab me?” He laughed mockingly. A vile sound that echoed through the chamber and felt like a dagger sticking into his ribcage. Or maybe that was just the venom doing its job. It had grown hard to tell. “Surely, you’re not that foolish.”

He didn’t answer. His shoe slapped softly against the stone with each wet step. His own blood mixing with the water. He was nearly there when he collapsed, falling against the ground and losing his glasses somewhere along the way.

Another laugh from Tom Riddle met his pitiful form connecting with the floor.

He looked up through bleary eyes at Ginny’s still form, and reached out. Fingers dug into the stone and he slowly pulled himself forward with the rest of his strength. Inch by inch he pulled. He refused to die and let Voldemort come back and terrorize everything. His scar burned like hellfire as that vile cackling arose from Tom Riddle’s throat as he watched his pitiful attempts to fight back.

But then the cackling stopped as Harry reached over his head, fang in hand.

“Potter. What’re you doing?” His voice sharpened. A hint of fear beneath it all.

He pulled himself forward just a little more, and grabbed onto the diary tightly with crimson fingers. His grip clinging into the leather bound journal, and flipping it open.

“POTTER!” He heard the footsteps as Tom closed the distance, rushing to stop him. But it was too late.

Harry drove the dagger down as violently as he could, stabbing it into the pages of the diary.

His entire body shook with the frightening wails that came from the book as chains shot out from the book, wrapping around Tom's form tightly, as if chaining him down. He could feel the entire chamber shaking beneath his body as if it were thrashing in its own death throes, with small rocks landing on the stone floor nearby.

The last thing he saw before complete darkness overtook his vision was Ginny’s body suddenly gasping for air. His eyes closing heavily as his body slumps a little further to the ground, losing the last of its strength

‘That’s good.’ He thought to himself, a smile crossing his lips as he allowed himself to finally rest beneath the faint tolling of a bell. ‘I’m glad she’s alive.’ And then there was nothing. Just pure and complete silence as Harry Potter fell limp to the cold stone.

And died, with no one to comfort him.

Harry Potter died as he had lived — quietly, with no hand to hold him.
But the silence did not last. For one life’s end had already been claimed… to kindle another’s beginning.

"Him? Surely you jest."

"Quiet. He may be young, but he is adequate for what we require."

"You mean what you require, Selavane."

"Mm. I admit, he is quite… Attractive. But no, Ysmera. You know there are greater plans for him."

My eyes opened to find a chamber made of cracked stone and marble, intricately aligned across the floor and walls. No source of light, even as I desperately searched everywhere for something to latch onto. Some semblance of comfort to ground myself, such as the faint sound of voices I could hear echoing through the chamber in front of me.

"Pah. Such a welp could never become the Eclipsed. He would be better off a corpse."

"Careful, Kaelthas. He is chosen, regardless of our feelings. He will suffice. We must accept that."

"The only thing I'll accept is when he finally leaves."

I moved forward towards the voices, not even noticing how I couldn't hear my steps against the stone beneath me. Nor the fact that I wasn't even breathing. Everything was focused on the voices, as if I couldn't tear myself away from them.

"I care little for how worthy he is. Only whether or not he will kneel."

"Do your best not to scare the poor boy, hm? I fear you've forgotten what it is to be mortal after so long in here."

My hand pressed into the large oak doors in front of — a brief flicker of confusion in the back of my head asked "where had these come from?" — as I stepped into dark room beyond.

And then a voice thrummed gently in the back of my head, as if they were whispering directly into my ear with a gravely tone.

[Welcome, Hollow-Born. Choose your destiny.]

I stopped suddenly and spun in place to look for the source of the voice. But there was nothing. Just me, and the damp, cold space around me.

[Choose, Hollow-Born. Show us what kind of Sovereign you will be.]

The room suddenly filled with a burning light as chandeliers on the ceiling sparked to life. Drowning my sight as it washed away the shadows and revealed a vast, cathedral-like palace room. The floor was a reflective, black stone, like walking on frozen starlight. Pillars vanished into an infinity above, causing me to wonder what allowed the chandeliers to hang so firmly.

But my gaze was stolen from me once more as I looked at the center: a great circle of thrones, each carved from a different material — bone, flame, chains, crystal, velvet, and gold. Against my better judgement, I moved forward slowly. One foot after the other, until I suddenly found myself at the foot of the first throne.

It was dripping with velvet curtains, golden goblets, and shadowy, whispering silhouettes. Its seat was half bed, half throne and smelled faintly of perfume. The more I inhaled, the more I felt… aroused. A tingling sensation shot up my spine and caused my whole body to shiver as images of naked men and women filled my vision. With me in the middle, atop my throne and wearing a seductive smirk that promised passion, and hide a dangerous power.

I could have anything I wanted, with little more than my own charm and voice. I could seduce Kings, and bed Queens. I could change the world with just a few words, and enjoy the feeling of flesh against my own in the most glorious, primal rituals. Hands roamed across my body and lips pressed against my back and neck.

⟦ CROWN OF THE INCUBUS ⟧

The World Is Anchored Through Its Flesh

Charming. Seductive. Power drawn from intimacy and desire. You will influence minds, claim hearts. Your blade will be forged through love and lust as you make this world choke on your power.

I stared silently at the plaque on the throne, reading it over and over. Partly because I wasn't sure what to make of it, and partly because of the faint haze that filled my brain still. Trying to seduce me, dragging me further into a bed of roses and warm, soft flesh. "Come now, young man. Join us." A seductive, masculine voice whispered in my ear once more.

And then suddenly everything stopped. The haze was gone and I could think clearly. The throne looked the same, but its influence over me had been— sedated. I could still feel it, faintly. But it wasn't as strong as it once was. Allowing me to bring myself to the next throne in line.

A black marble seat, carved with skeletal reliefs. Wisps of soul-fire burning in empty sockets above, and smelling of rot and grave dust. Skeletal fingers crawled up from the floor, as if anchoring the throne in place. My gaze found itself locked onto the burning orbs of fire and I felt myself slipping once more.

My body felt cold, as if not even blood ran through my veins anymore. Before me stood an immense swath of land, covered in the bodies of the dead and dying. A warzone that soaked up the blood from the bodies as nutrient to feed itself. In my peripheral vision my hand rose and gripped something invisible in the air that threatened to drag me down beneath the earth. The ground cracked open violently as if scars ran through the very crust of the earth, allowing a seemingly endless, dark army to rise before me. Thrashing and dragging themselves up from the ground as violently as they died.

I could have it all. The dead would become mine, and prolonged battle would only serve to make me stronger.

⟦ CROWN OF THE NECROMANCER ⟧

The World Is Anchored Through Its Death

Master decay. Bind spirits. Command bone and shadow. Life ends, but power is eternal. Master Death and craft it into a suit of armor through which you will dominate everything in your path.

The plaque was far more enticing than I wanted it to be. Even as the vision of the battlefield swam just outside of where I could see it, as if beckoning me to come closer, I knew I shouldn't want that kind of power. The power over life and death. But some part of me reached for it. "Come now, welp. Join the Eclipsed." A harsh, raspy voice spoke into my ear as skeletal fingers wrapped their way around my heart.

I stepped back, shaking my head as the feeling disappeared. I didn't want it, not until I had seen every other option first.

The next throne was covered in glowing runes and chains. Parchment that seemed to write itself adorned the armwrests as if they had work that needed done. Chains wrapped around the back and leading down to the sides where, if I focused enough, I could see them attached to spirits. Animals, people, creatures, monsters. It was never the same once I blinked. Always changing. Shifting.

I turned back to the throne and I felt myself getting lost in the rhythmic writing of the parchment. As if secrets were being unwound in my own skull and if I just listened I would find everything I ever needed. Promises of power and strength and binding trying to draw me in. Trying to force my hand to grab the pen and sign the parchment.

Everything would be mine, as everything had a price. You just needed to know where to apply the pressure. What I couldn't buy, I could trade. What I couldn't trade, I could take.

⟦ CROWN OF THE INKBOUND⟧

The World Is Anchored Through Its Bonds

Forge pacts with beasts, spirits, and even magic itself. Add the strength of your familiars to your own, and network your arcane strength through sigil and soul.

"Come now, young man. Do not be afraid." A feminine voice spoke softly next to me, but if I tried to pay attention, I could faintly hear the sound of something else beneath the words she spoke. "Power is only available to those courageous enough to grasp it."

But just as quickly as I'd arrived at the throne, I had left it. Forced against my will to the next one in line as a faint laughter echoed in the chamber, drawing my attention to the seat of silver flame before me. Mirrors spiraling behind the throne and showing faces I didn't own. And yet, they were me. They were all me.

Whispers arouse from the throne, speaking to me in my own voice. Promising that everything would be as I wanted it. My vision filling with a world far too similar to my own, except it would bend to my every whim. Money, fame, happiness, love. Anything I could dream of, I would get. It was all about what mask I chose to wear. As long as I was okay with forgetting who I truly was.

⟦ CROWN OF THE GHOSTFLAME ⟧

The World Is Anchored Through Its Mind

Wield phantasmal fire, illusion, memory, and psychic weight. Control the perception of others. Shape belief in your image. Become a Legend before the world knows you even exist.

The plaque explained everything. Psychic power, perception, illusion. Everything would be mine as I could control it to become mine with a mere thought. "See?" A masculine voice chuckled behind me deeply. "The little mortal understands more than you give him credit for." Feminine now, but definitely the same person.

But I couldn't stop. Not now.

I moved to the next throne in line, a stone chair carved with a swirling mass of glowing runes that made no sense the more I looked at them, and surrounded by chains of golden script that floated in midair. In my peripheral vision they were normal, still, beckoning. Except the moment I turned to look, they began to shift and shape themselves into abnormal patterns. If I could just look a little more closely, I could make them out. Surely, I could.

The world seemed to shift beneath the weight of the runes. As if they were secret levers that changed the way it turned, the way it tilted. The way it shaped not only itself but the fate of all who lived on it. With the right rune, the world would obey any command I gave it. With the right word, I could erase any choice.

⟦ CROWN OF THE WYRD-SPEAKER ⟧

The World Is Anchored Through Its Language

Speak in hidden tongues. Carve runes that will bend time to your will. Thread fates and wield power over oaths. Control the world by a noose around its neck.

"Many before you have tried to control Fate." A voice spoke to me in what sounded like German, even though my brain seemed to automatically translate it for me. "Will you succeed where they failed? Or will you join them, forgotten to history?" Chinese. "Only time will tell. Time, and the runes." Ancient Greek.

The Crown of the Necromancer called to me. Beckoned me back towards it, and I nearly turned. But I couldn't. There was one left. One Throne I hadn't seen yet. I couldn't stop until I had read them all.

A colossal seat of stone with veins of molten gold carved across it like scars. Draped with various treasures and bones, it almost felt alive. Hungry. My knees nearly buckled before the sheer weight that pressed on top of me, as if it were trying to force me to.

No vision overtook me. No promise of power. No seduction or temptation. Just weight. A tyrannical weight that tried to force me to bend to its will, even as I struggled to stay standing. Until it eventually disappeared and I nearly collapsed from the energy that I no longer had in my body. My hand reaching out and grasping onto the throne just so I wouldn't fall. Somehow, I knew that if I fell, I would never get back up.

[CROWN OF THE DRAGON]

The World Is Anchored Through Its Myth

Your power is your hoard. Your hoard is everything you claim. Gold, flesh, mind, loyalty - all of it. The Dragon does not beg. The Dragon does not serve. The Dragon rules over all it sees with an iron grip.

"Do not be so bold as to assume I would ever claim you, Weakling. I care little for your choice. Go ahead and make it, and be done with this place." The voice was harsh, with a snarling bite beneath it as if it wanted nothing more than to crush me. To snap my skull between its jaws.

For reasons I would never be able to explain - I reached and grabbed the throne and slowly climbed into the seat. Even as the voice from before returned to me.

"Hmph. Maybe the Weakling will stand a chance after all."

"Even mortals may yet surprise you, Serkath. If you let them."

"Mm. Darn. I guess it was to be expected from someone like him. But I still wouldn't have minded more of a taste first."

A snarl reverberates through the air. "Back off, Selavane."

"Oooh!" Strangely, the voice was feminine now. "Touchy touchy. Don't worry, darling. I wouldn't touch your little Wyrmling. … Well…"

Another snarl was cut off, "enough, you two. I believe it's time for Daedalus to take over. Goodnight, Wyrmling. And congratulations on taking your first steps."

I wanted to respond, to say something. To ask one of the thousands of questions but before I could, the darkness overtook the chamber once more and I felt pain shoot through my body. Thousands- no. Millions of tiny daggers growing in my veins, in my arteries. Shooting across my body as every inch of me grew thorns and I yelled silently into the void. Unable to make a sound as my vocal cords became little more than space for them to grow.

A gentle, clawed hand gripped my shoulder tightly and I heard a voice speak, but could not make out the words over the violent struggle to stay awake. To stay alive.

Then, it was over. And everything was gone.

[Welcome, Dragon Sovereign. May your Reign be long and your Hoard plentiful. We expect great things from you.]

[INITIALIZING DAEDALUS SYSTEM…]

I woke up with a painful gasp. My hand clutching my chest so tightly that I was sure my fingers would dig down and grab my sternum. I looked around quickly, trying to orient myself. Seeking the safety and comfort of my room.

Except my room wasn’t made of marble and intricately carved stone. It didn’t carry the stench of flesh and blood and steel. And there sure as fuck wasn’t a gigantic Basilisk inside of it. I screamed, or tried to. I let out something more akin to a yelp as I scurried away from the giant beast’s cold, lifeless eyes.

I began to hyperventilate as I looked around quickly once more. But my eyes quickly stopped on the limp form of Ginny Weasley, laying next to a scorched diary that I recognized far too easily.

The Diary of Lord Voldemort, one of his Seven Horcruxes- wait GINNY FUCKING WEASLEY???

I had bigger goddamn issues at hand than the diary. I looked down and the hyperventilating only got worse as I began to realize what happened. I was in Harry Potter’s body. No— I was Harry Potter.

“Harry?” A soft, feminine voice called out to me. I looked up instinctually and saw Ginny staring at me with gentle, frightful eyes behind her fiery red hair. “What happened?” She asked, visibly shaking in fright. I couldn’t stop myself from moving across the floor quickly, dragging the poor girl into a hug so tight that I was worried I might crush bone.

She hugged back just as tightly. But it did nothing to stop the various thoughts in my mind, running at a billion miles per hour. And it certainly did nothing to stop me from staring at the floating screen before my eyes.

[DAEDALUS SYSTEM INITIALIZED.]

A smooth voice echoed in the back of my mind. “Hello, Sovereign. I am Daedalus.”

… FUCK.

Chapter Text

Harry was… different. Not just the sweat, blood, or the faint metallic scent of iron clinging to him. Even as his arms wrapped around her shivering body, Ginny could feel it — something heavier in him, a steadiness she couldn’t name, like the calm eye in the center of a storm.

It was easy enough to chalk it up to Post-Traumatic-Stress. She had seen the dead Basilisk before her face was buried into his shoulder — god he’s so warm — and the destroyed diary. He saved her. She wasn’t entirely sure how, but he had done it. And she was incredibly thankful for it.

Maybe that was why she had completely forgotten about her fluster whenever he was around. Too much on her mind. Like the echoing fragments of Tom’s voice, fluttering around in the back of her skull. Whispering sweet words and convincing her to talk to him. To write in the diary. Her body shivered as that voice dragged itself down her spinal cord like a knife. His grip tightened in response.

“Thank you…” She whimpered pathetically into his shoulder as she tried to fight the tears that threatened to burst out. It didn’t help when his fingers gently raked down her back to try and comfort her.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

His voice was firm, and warm. Not like Tom’s, who had been incredibly charismatic but always with a gentle bite just beneath the surface. Like a viper waiting to strike while it lured you in with its beautiful scales.

She didn’t respond. Only a soft whimper escaped her lips as she pressed into him, feeling the surprising warmth of his chest beneath her cheek. The faint rhythm of his pulse steadied her trembling, and for a moment, she let herself believe the world could still be right.

Honestly, it was depressing. She wasn't a kid anymore! She shouldn’t be crying like a damn baby right now! But… she couldn’t help it. Every emotion she bottled up for the last several months was now hitting her with the full weight of a tsunami. Flooding her body and threatening to demolish her defenses.

It almost had. She almost broke down right in front of her crush when—

“Potter! Weasley!” A firm, feminine voice cried out from further into the chamber. “Mister Potter! Miss Weasley!” It called again.

She felt him shift. “In here!” He called back, nearly yelling. His voice cracking towards the end, as if he was barely holding it together too. She couldn’t help but smile, thankful she wasn’t the only one.

She heard the loud, slapping footsteps as multiple people ran towards them at full speed. “Oh my God!” That same voice. Professor McGonagall, she finally recognized. “Albus! Hurry!”

“Professor,” Harry began. “We need to get her to the Hospital Wing, immediately.”

“Yes- Yes of course! Come on. Severus! Help me with them!”

Firm hands grabbed her, lifting her gently from the floor. She clung to Harry’s side like a lifeline, feeling the residual warmth of his blood and sweat seeping through his robes. The chaos around them — the echoing shouts, the scuffling footsteps — mattered less than this tether keeping her from drifting into panic.

“Shh, it’s okay, Ginny. Go with them.” He spoke softly with a voice that made her grip turn to jelly.

She whimpered again before letting go. A soft sniffle was her only answer before she found herself being bundled up in McGonagall’s warm embrace and shuffled off towards the chamber’s exit. “Oh dear… Come on, sweetheart.” Her Scottish tone was gentle and caring, filling her heart with hope that everything would be okay from here.

“Hold still, Potter. ” Professor Snape spoke curtly, though even he was struggling to hide his concern. “You’ve been injured.” She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the faint chanting of what seemed to be healing spells and the faint shimmering of magic through the air.

Albus Dumbledore caught up to them far more quickly than she expected from someone his age. He stopped McGonagall and Ginny for a moment. Taking a breath to look her over with his gentle, star filled eyes. Though it was hard for her to miss the angry fire beneath it. Not directed at her, though.

Lucky for Tom that he wasn't here to witness this. She couldn't help but think to herself, shivering gently at seeing the usually calm Headmaster so furious.

He quickly turned his gaze upwards towards McGonagall, and they shared a silent moment between them before she was being hauled off towards the Hospital Wing in the Professor’s firm grip once more.

“Harry, m’boy…” She heard him say in that same, gentle tone. Before they turned a corner away from the chamber and back into the dark hallway that led to the exit.

However, she didn’t remember much past that. The stress had finally gotten to her and her body seemed to shut down. One moment she was in the dark chamber tunnels, and the next she was in the Hospital Wing with a worried Madam Pompfrey standing over her and casting diagnostic charms all over her body.

She seemed to be saying something , but she heard none of it. It didn’t seem important anyways, as Madam Pompfrey was far too focused on ensuring she hadn't been fatally injured down in the chamber. And after the next spell, she welcomed the embrace of sleep as it wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. It didn’t matter that she would never know it was Madam Pompfrey casting a spell to make her rest, nor would she know that her body was suffering from the aftermath of a dark possession ritual.

To her, all that mattered was closing her eyes and resting.

…

“ She’s a stude-!”

…

“ He should not have been… in there alone!”

…

She could barely make out her mother’s voice among the restlessness. Merlin knows she had heard it enough times when Fred or George- … Fred and George, if she wasn’t kidding herself, did something stupid.

She tossed and turned slightly in her sleep, trying to wake. Or at the very least make out what she was saying better as she fought off the almost supernatural desire to fall back into slumber’s embrace.

“Harry! Oh dear, you look terrible!” She could barely make out her mother screech.

Someone walked quickly across the room, “m’fine Miss— oof!”

"Easy, Molly—" Her father's concerned, gentle voice.

That was the last she heard as sleep overtook her exhausted form. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She didn't want to fight it. So she drifted back off into the comforting embrace of the darkness.

The next time she woke up, two days had passed and the room smelled of fresh herbs. As her eyes tried to adjust to the light, she found the familiar form of her close friend — Luna Lovegood — sitting in a chair while reading a magazine upside down, next to a basket of sweets.

Typical Luna. She thought to herself with a small smile crossing her lips.

Luna, sensing that Ginny had woken up, turned to look over at her with that same absent smile she always had. Silvery eyes watching her absently.

“Hello.” She spoke softly, as if her mind was elsewhere.

Ginny groaned softly, pushing herself up so she could sit back against the pillows. “Hh- How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.” Her smile seems to widen a little. “I blame the wrackspurts. I’ve put in a note to Mister Dumbledore about the infestation on the third floor but so far nothing’s been done…” Her voice trails off, though that distant look remains as if she just decided there was something better to think about.

Two days? Two days??

She began to look around quickly, trying to find someone she could talk to. Hopefully Madam Pompfrey or a teacher. Luckily the slight disturbance of her moving around seemed to have alerted the nurse, who quickly came bustling out of her office.

“Ah, you’re awake!” She spoke in a matronly tone, moving towards the end of her bed with a smile. “I had assumed you would be waking up soon. How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?”

She winced as she moved again, trying to push herself up a little more as she huffs. "I’m a little sore but I think I’m okay. Thank you, ma’am.” She tried to be polite, even as her muscles tried to force her to lay back down with another wince. "What happened to Harry?”

The smile on Pompfrey's face grew a little at the mention of Harry.

“Mm. He’s doing alright. Luckily Severus — Professor Snape," she cleared her throat before continuing, "is quite apt at healing spells and managed most of the damage before he arrived. I did have to treat him for mild stress but he was able to leave yesterday to return to classes. You were both very brave, Miss Weasley.” She trailed off before sighing.

After a brief moment, she continued. “I know it’s probably not much consolation but I’m sorry. No one should have been forced into that terrible situation. It’s a miracle you both survived and believe me, several teachers were very angry that it was even allowed to happen in the first place.”

Ginny stared at her hands silently as Madam Pompfrey spoke. Her freckled cheeks turned a light tinge of red, unsure how to handle the apology. She was sure Harry had done most— all of the work in saving her by the looks of things. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what happened in the first place. All she knew is that one moment she was talking to Tom in the diary, and the next she was waking up next to a gigantic, dead snake. And Harry.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft and she was barely able to summon the energy to say anything at all.

Madam Pompfrey didn’t seem to need anything more than that, as she smiled sadly and nodded. “I’d like for you to rest for another few hours but then you may go visit the great hall for supper. Or we can have it brought here if you’d prefer?” She asked gently.

She instantly shot her head up at the mention of the great hall, before nodding quickly. “I’d like to go down there, please!” A bright smile on her face at the idea of being able to see some of her other friends again. Or even her brothers. Though her cheeks turned red again as Harry’s face and his warmth flashed through her mind again.

Madam Pompfrey couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her reaction, returning the nod with her own. “Alright, that’ll be fine. Do you need anything else? You have about…” She turned to look at the nearby clock on the wall. “Mm. Two and a half hours until supper.” As she turned back to her.

Ginny shook her head. “No thank you, ma’am. I think I’ll be alright. Is it okay if Luna stays here with me?” She glanced over at the white-haired girl sitting next to her.

“That’ll be fine. I’m sure you could use some company right now.” The Madam smiled, giving them a small nod before she turned away, moving back towards her office. “Just tell me if you need anything, please. I'll let you know when it’s time for supper, Miss Weasley.”

“Thank you!” She called out to the retreating motherly figure, before laying back against the headboard gently. “Merlin…” She muttered under her breath, trying to process everything. She didn’t have long before the door to the hospital wing opened and she turned to look at it — and her cheeks went a dark shade of red as Harry Potter stepped inside.

He was much cleaner than before. New robes, glasses, though she could see the bottom of the bandaging on his bicep, where the wound had been. The wound he sustained saving her life. The memory of the chamber caused a shiver to rake down her spine.

“Hey.” He spoke softly with a small smile as he made his way over to the bed. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything, I didn't know you'd already had a visitor?” His eyes looked down to Luna curiously, likely trying to verify that she was indeed, reading an upside down book.

The girl in question merely turned to look up at him, her gaze focusing for a moment. “Your energy is strange... But you don’t have any wrackspurts… Highly unusual.”

Harry looked— … Confused honestly wouldn’t describe it adequately. Especially as he turned to look at Ginny, silently pleading for her help in navigating this situation.

She couldn’t stop herself from giggling, even as she covered her mouth. “Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. My friend from Ravenclaw.” She could finally say once the giggling died down. Though the bright smile remained on her face at seeing such a silly look on the Harry Potter.

“Uhm— Pleasure to meet you, Luna.” He turned back to give her a small smile. “Any friend of Ginny’s is hopefully a friend of mine.”

“...” She stared up at him silently for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay. We can be friends.” As she grabbed her book and began reading it with that same, unfocused look on her face.

Harry’s mouth flapped a few times as he watched her reading upside down before he visibly gave up and just turned back to look at Ginny once more. “So uhm— You’re doing alright?” His hesitance and confusion almost made her giggle again.

“Mhm.” She says with a small nod. “I’ve got plenty of sweets,” as she gestures to the nearby basket “and they’ll even let me return to the great hall later. I'm still a little sore, but I’m alright.” She trailed off as her eyes found the bandage on his arm again. “... How about you? Are you okay?”

He looked at her confused before he seemed to remember that the bandaging existed. “Oh! Yeah! I’m good.” He nods as he looks down, rubbing gently just below the bandages. “Professor Snape helped stop most of the bleeding and Madam Pompfrey is— well. Madam Pompfrey. I guess I don’t have to explain her to you.” As a gentle, almost awkward laugh rumbles through his chest.

She couldn’t help but laugh with him, finding his nervousness cute. Honestly it was a far cry from how they used to be, even just a week ago. But something about him seemed… Calming. Like he just naturally had an aura that drew him towards her. It didn’t help that being this close to him she could notice more of his boyish features.

He was cute. Maybe a little lanky, and kind of short. But she didn’t mind. He almost looked like a little puppy with glasses. If she were a little more confident and Luna wasn’t here—

Where had that thought come from? Sure she had considered what it would feel like to go out with him a few times but sex was a far cry from going on dates. Even as her body tingled gently at the thought.

… “Ginny?” His voice broke through to her.

“Hm?” She focused on him again. “Sorry, I think I zoned out a little. I haven’t been awake long. Can you repeat that?”

He laughs again and gives her a playful smile. “It’s okay. I was just asking if you wanted to sit with us at the table during dinner. I’m sure your brothers would ask anyways but—”

“Yes!” She answered a little too quickly. A heavy blush crossed her features as she shrunk back a little. “Sorry I mean— Yeah, I’d like that. If you guys really won’t mind?”

The smile on his face grows and he nods. “I’d like that too. And I think your brothers are close to storming the hospital wing anyways. Luna can join us as well, if she wants?” He turned to look at Luna but when he didn’t get a response after a few seconds he just turned back to Ginny. “Well, the offer still stands.” As he let out a slightly nervous laugh.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes in amusement as she smiled. “I’ll bring her along, don’t worry. But uhm—” She looked down at her hands, fidgeting slightly before she found the courage to look back up. She had to try not to allow herself to be distracted by the beautiful emerald green she found. “... Thanks for coming down there to save me. And— thanks for visiting me here. It means a lot.”

Harry looked at her with a slight confusion to his features. “Of course. I’d never leave you down there.” His face full of sincerity, as if there was never a single second where he had considered anything else. Merlin, he was just too fucking sweet! She desperately needed some alone time later at this rate.

 “...” She stared up at him silently before nodding as the smile returned to her face in force. “Alright. I’ll uhm… I’ll see you at dinner then?”

 He nods and clears his throat lightly. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you at dinner. We’ll make sure to save you both seats.” He spares a glance at Luna before deciding against anything else, and heads for the door. “Seeya later, Gin. Glad to see you’re doing okay.”

Her heart slammed against her chest at the nickname. Gin. Something her brothers had used before — but hearing it from him, her savior, made her knees feel weak. She needed a moment, a private corner, just to process it all without collapsing in front of him.

Thankfully the door closed and Harry was gone before she could say or do anything too stupid. Like show him just how grateful she was, spectators be damned. Instead she just sighed and leaned her head back against the soft pillow.

 “He seems nice.” Luna spoke up eventually, causing Ginny to sigh again. Even as a smile crept up her blushing face.

 “Yeah. He’s wonderful.”

Chapter Text

The door closed behind me and it took everything I had not to start hyperventilating again. How the fuck did Harry deal with this? Okay— In my defense, Harry had never been fucking isekai’d into a goddamn book character’s body. Nor had he ever dealt with some kind of System UI that kept hounding him about all the different information he needed to check out.

“Fuck it.” I muttered to myself as I slowly brought my breathing back under control. “Uh- Daedalus?” Was that its name?? I had been a little busy earlier, and unable to really pay too much attention. But sure enough, the semi-familiar voice spoke in my head once more.

A voice answered, calm and smooth as carved stone. "Hello, Sovereign."

A small shiver crawled down my spine at the smooth voice that echoed in my skull. "H-hello?" I responded with a slight hesitance to my voice as I tried to process the idea that I was talking to an invisible — something. I couldn't even claim it was a person. I genuinely had no clue what, or who, it was.

"Do not worry, Sovereign. I will not harm you. I have been assigned to you as a… Caretaker of sorts." The voice was courteous, almost formal. "And before you ask, yes, I can hear your thoughts. But if speaking outloud makes this more comfortable for you, then please. Feel free to do so."

For all its words and ability to hear my thoughts, it hadn't actually told me anything about what it was, beyond just a caretaker. And I couldn't shake the feeling it was entirely on purpose. So, really, I had no choice but to move on and ask another question.

"If you're to be my Caretaker, then what is it you do? Do you have something to do with the… With the throne I sat on?" The words catching in my throat as I thought back to it. The memory of the palace and the voices clawing away at my skull.

"Excellent question, young Sovereign." The voice softened with something like a smile. “My functions are many. It will be easier if I show you. May I?”

"Uhm—" I paused. My leg bouncing slightly against the floor of the castle as I mulled it over, slightly worried about where this might go. Everything about this felt ridiculous, but the alternative — refusing — felt like ignoring a ticking time bomb. "Okay. Yeah. Show me." I said firmly, just before everything went dark once more, and I felt myself falling through space.

A scream tore its way through my throat, "AHHH!" As I fell through the endless void, with nothing around me but the pitch black expanse. Until I began to see silver strands pulling themselves into a grand, glowing lattice beneath me. Growing closer and closer until I landed on it, and watched as the webbing of light stretched out for an eternity. Each strand pulsed like a heartbeat and drew my attention to the hovering symbols and shapes that had suddenly formed around me.

"Welcome, Sovereign," the voice said. "This is your Soul Web, where the shape of your magic lies."

The voice echoed from behind me, and I turned quickly. Fire filled my throat. A face — no, a visage — hung in the air. Long snout, slitted golden eyes, scales that caught light like hammered coin. But it wasn’t a beast; the thing was humanoid. Taller than me and draped in garments that shimmered like woven embers — dark threads flashed with red and gold.

I jerked back instinctively, my palms scraping against the lattice. "Holy—" Swallowing the curse that nearly followed. "Wh— How am I seeing a… Dragon? Person??" I couldn't entirely comprehend it, and my brain was having difficulties filling in the blanks.

The figure tilted its head. Its voice was the same, only closer now. Threaded with something older and more careful than before. "I take whatever form the Sovereign will be most comfortable with. Names are merely a convenience for easier communication. I am Daedalus — builder, architect, caretaker. I was the one who fashioned the Web you stand on. And all of its functions." His eyes drift to the side as he looks over the sigils, using one scaled hand to gesture towards them.

What should have been reassuring, instead made everything so much fucking worse. So, I just nodded along and tried to avoid acting like a fish out of water as I looked at everything around me. "Right. Gotcha. Daedalus. Uhm. … Do you accept tips?" A small laugh escaping me as I turned back to look at him. Hoping the humor would provide some levity.

Judging by the passive gaze that followed when he turned back to look at me, I could only assume it didn't work.

I cough to clear my throat, turning to look at the nearby symbols adorning the vast space. "Right. Tough crowd." Though I'm not brave enough to say it louder than a mutter. "So— Architect, then. What exactly did you build here anyways?"

"Ah." Daedalus hums softly as he walks forward. One hand swiping gently through the air like he were thrumming guitar strings as everything shifts once more. The expansive lattice I was sitting on quickly became stone and I found myself in an eerily familiar throne room. Not unlike the one I had first appeared in originally.

A small grin spread across his draconic lips. "I have built many things for you, Wyrmling. Everything a growing Sovereign like you needs to foster your power, fret not." Another soft hum leaves his lips as he trails his hand across a nearby pillar. "Your Dominion has been left untouched for quite some time now. I apologize for the state you find it in now." He spoke with something quite close to reverence in his tone as he looked towards the throne ahead of time.

"But now — you are here." He turns to look at me once more with those bold, powerful eyes. "And you will return this place to the glory it once held." A small pause as his eyes widen slightly, like he was remembering something. "Ah. Yes. First, we shall discus you. Apologies."

The palace vibrated with an underlying power and the air grew thick with power before a space next to him exploded open, releasing nearly a half-dozen symbols of assorted colors and shapes.

"These," he makes a grand, sweeping gesture to the nearby symbols, "are your affinities. The Disciplines that anchor your magic to this realm. The bones of what you are truly capable of."

Before I could respond, a glyph of burning steel appeared before me. Jagged lines striking outward like a sword in motion.

[Martial Magic] — 39%
The art of battle. Your will bends toward the clash of spell and shield. You are forged for combat, and the forge has not yet cooled. Become a true Ruler who wields his hand with the strength of entire armies.

"Your strength lies in your heart. In your will." Daedalus spoke slowly as he moved around the glyph, staring at it as if it were a God to bow to. "Very few in your year could take you in a true fight. And your potential for domination through might is… Immense."

A second sigil joined the first, writhing in shadow. Serpentine and cold, leaving a whispering threading the edges of my mind. The wound on my bicep itched as I watched the dark sigil slither around through the air.

[Dark Arts] — 28%
The abyss favors you, Wyrmling. Curses, hexes, and bonds of the soul cling like chains. Tethering you to an immense power, waiting to be clasped. A connection most unnatural… and powerful.

A clawed hand slowly grasped the sigil, caressing it. "I admit… Your situation is most strange." Gold eyes found mine, staring at me intensely. "You harbor an immense power beneath the surface. Like a Titan trying to break its chains. Perhaps you are meant to be the next Dark Lord of your era?" His voice rumbled as he spoke, like distant thunder.

A shiver ran sharply down my spine as some deeper part of me thrummed at the idea of taking power for myself. The idea of becoming the next Dark Lord. Then, softer motes of light gathered, weaving into an intricate knot that refused to settle into one shape, snatching my attention away once more.

[Charms] — 17%
Fluid, flexible, and untamed. The power to weave threads between people and power, command and control, alteration and enhancement. Versatility waits for those disciplined to awaken their potential. Your blood carries more than you know.

"Ah." Daedalus stared at the shifting knot of light, eyes full of wonder and yet a distant sadness. "Charms. Underutilized. Often forgotten or misrepresented by Mages of your era. But very strong indeed…"

Finally, the symbol of a phoenix-like bird flickered and fractured into shifting forms. Before locking itself in place, with a faint glow. A soft melody echoing in the back of my mind beneath the flapping of wings.

[Transfiguration] — 14%
The craft of reshaping matter, form, and truth. A legacy dulled, yet not extinguished. It waits for you, Sovereign. Like a crown left on a forgotten throne waits for a new King to take its place.

A soft hum echoes through the palace once more as Daedalus stares at them all. "Such neglect… I do not blame you, young one. Do not fret. I blame those who turned their cheek from someone with so much potential." His voice trailing off as he continues to stare at them for a moment, before he lifts a clawed hand and more sigils appear. "Beyond these foundations lay specialized pathways. Subtler disciplines — but disciplines that may one day define more completely than the core."

The first sigil appears — a spiral of silver unfolding like an endless doorway, twisting and collapsing back into itself.

[Spatial Magic] — 22%
The dominion of place itself. Portals, fields, warping paths between here and there. Ancient blood remembers this art — and space itself bends to answer your call.

"A powerful specialization to have, to be certain." The corner of his lips curl slightly into the barest of smirks. "One who controls the domain in which they live will always have the upper hand. Especially in the thick of battle."

Runes spin out of the void made of himmering letters that no language could hold. Their whispers filled my skull, lingering just on the edge of comprehension.

[Runic Arts] — 9%
The world is written in symbols, Wyrmling, and symbols are law. They whisper still, unheard. But when you answer them, you will not speak magic — you will write it.

A soft laugh breaks my concentration, "ah, yes. I believe the Prophet had an affinity for this type of magic as well. Even with such an affinity, you would have done well under his tutelage." As the smirk grows into a full, fang filled grin. "But now the skies call for you, Wyrmling. And you shall answer."

His hand swipes through the air violently and the next sigil appears from the ground. A rising, miniature fortress that disolved into glowing wards. Vibrating with an ancient, protective power.

[Warding] — 10%
The art of boundaries, circles, and domains. Territory itself is the spell. In your bloodline lies the memory of guardianship, and the wards will rise again when you command them.

"A more subtle power than most, to be sure." Daedalus' head tilts to one side as he admires the vibrating wards. "But with the right motivation, even the Dark Lord would be hard pressed to harm you." His eyes move to me briefly, before they flick to the next sigil.

A jagged shard of glasses hovers, cracking and reflecting fragments of my own face back at me. But sometimes the face shifts and I find my true self staring back, not the body I now inhabit. I have to resist the urge to claw at my own face to try and find out what's beneath the skin.

[Psychomancy] — 3%
Your mind is broken, yet not defeated. Hidden strength sleeps among the fractures. Once repaired, you will hold dominion over your own mind. And carry the power to crack open any wall someone tries to hide themselves behind.

One of the fragments is suddenly grabbed, and the Dragonblood stares down into its reflective surface. "Who we truly are is but a question of what mask we decide to wear. Worry not, Wyrmling. You will become more than you were." As he lets go of the shard and it slowly returns to its place.

The next sigil is an alchemist circle that blooms brightly. Before crackling, and fizzing with an unstable light, then collapsing into ash. Only to renew the cycle once more.

[Alchemy] — 2%
The union of matter and magic. Potions, transmutations, the marriage of craft and sorcery. Untapped, suppressed — but even a boot cannot crush true flame forever.

A snarl rumbles through the air like the roar of a tank engine as he stares at the alchemical sigil. "That Professor refuses to see reason. Refuses to allow himself even the briefest moment of empathy." Fangs bared and claws ready to rip into the sigil before Daedalus calms himself once more. "I apologize."

Just in time for a warm glow to spark, just faintly, before it sputtered. Struggling to hold its form under an invisible weight.

[Healing] — 2%
Restoration, regeneration, the mending of flesh and soul. You bear scars deeper than most — and in those scars lies the empathy of a healer. The broken are often the best to mend.

"It's okay." He speaks softly, grasping onto the warm glow with a gentle, scaled hand. "It's alright. You've done good." Too focused on the sigil to even make a comment about how healing was my worst affinity, just next to Alchemy.

It didn't matter right then, as my attention was grabbed by the sudden roar that echoed through the palace, drawing my eyes to the ceiling — just to find there was no ceiling. A titanic shadow coiled in the vast darkness above, with wings that stretched out far enough to blot the light from reaching me.

[Draconic] — DORMANT
The mark of Kings. The hunger of Monsters. Dominion, Loyalty, Hoard. All shall answer the King of the Skies when he roars.

A line of blazing fire brands itself across the coiled shadow.

UNLOCK CONDITION: Form a TRUE HOARD BOND

I couldn't turn to look at Daedalus — wouldn't — I was too enraptured by the sight of the immense, dormant power that lingered above the palace as if it were nothing more than a doll house. But had I turned to look at him, I would have found him in much the same position.

Something in me stirred, and I could feel the phantoms of wings sprouting from my back, A tail from my ass, and horns from my skull. But the phantoms disappeared just as soon as they arrived, and Daedalus broke my concentration with his smooth voice once more.

"Young Sovereign."

A brief moment of hesitation, not wanting to tear my eyes from the shadow, before I looked at him again. "Daedalus," I began, swallowing heavily. "Are there any other affinities I can gain?"

The toothy grin crossed his muzzle once more, as if I had finally said something he'd been waiting for this entire time. "Yes. There are. More than a dozen affinities, and more than that when it comes to sub-affinities."

"W— What the hell are sub-affinities?" I had no sooner asked when the sigil of the Dark Arts appeared in front of me once more.

His grin grew wider, as the sigil expanded into a half-dozen branches. "Allow me to show you some of them."

SUB-AFFINITIES OF THE DARK ARTS

[Curses] — NOT LEARNED
Spoken malic. Woven venom. Curses bind suffering into form, carrying your will into the marrow of others. Curses are chains upon a living being's soul, marking them with a destiny they can not avoid.

[Blood Magic] — NOT LEARNED
The oldest pact — flesh for power, blood for truth. Life is the greatest currency, and it flows in rivers within every living thing. Your veins are ink, Sovereign. How you write with them is your choice.

[Necromancy] — NOT LEARNED
The dominion of Death's own silence. Call out to bones and ashes, to spirits unmoored, to the march of what should not move. Necromancy is not merely raising the fallen. It is commanding the memory itself.

[Ritual Binding] — NOT LEARNED
Circles, oaths, bargains carved into the soul. This is the art of shackles. Of chaining demon and man alike. But beward, Wyrmling: every chain you forge has two ends.

[Soul Possession] — NOT LEARNED
The art of intrusion. To step into another's vessel, and seize flesh not your own. To ride their being like a storm. But such thievery can leave scars on both rider and ridden.

[Shadowcraft] — NOT LEARNED
The weaving of darkness into weapon and veil. Shadows cloak, conceal, and suffocate. Some bend them as blades, others forge armor. In the end, Shadow is neither loyal, nor false. It only reflects the hand wielding it.

"As you can see," he gestures to each branch raising out of the sigil as he speaks, "there is more to the Dark Arts than meets the eye. Anyone can cast the Cruciatus Curse if they bear enough hatred to marr their soul. Anyone can summon Fiendfyre to swallow themselves in. But very few can access the true power of the Dark Arts. Less can wield it with such precision."

A shiver ran down my back. I didn't need clarification, I knew exactly who he was talking about. That oily, venomous cackle chilling the blood in my veins as I thought about the man I would have to kill eventually. The man who would kill me.

"But," he continued. "That's not all. Affinity is both a measure of potential and a doorway. At the simplest level, yes — a 40% affinity for the Martial Arts will make your defensive, or offensive spells stronger. You'll have more control, and your growth will be vast. But they aren't simple. They are layered."

He waves his hand as two chairs appear out of thin air. As he sits down in his own, he gestures to me to take a seat — and I do so almost instinctively.

"Let's take the Dark Arts for example," as he gestures to the nearby sigil and its branches, "a 10% affinity may let you wield simple curses. 30%, you might feel a pull towards Blood Rituals or Necromancy. Beyond 50%, darker doors open. Soul binding, possession, dominion over Death itself. The Eclipsed King would've never reached his status, had he not mastered the Dark Arts."

My lips flap open to ask who the hell the Eclipsed King was supposed to be, but Daedalus just holds up a single finger to silence me.

He waits for a moment before continuing again. "Each percentage point is not just more strength, it's an extra key on your ring. That's why affinities are dangerous knowledge. Too many think of them as numbers on a scale, when really they're maps. Maps that tell you not only how far you can go, but which roads will appear along the way." He then gestures to me in a you may speak now way.

… "Hm." I hum softly, trying to think everything over. It was a fucking lot of information to take in all at once. "Uhm. Okay." A small nod as I slowly pieced together ginormous puzzle my brain was suddenly drowning in. "Fuck."

It was honestly the best encapsulation of everything I could come up with. This was Harry's — my — second year of Hogwarts, and I had killed the Basilisk already. Which meant I had two friggin years to figure out my plan of action before I found myself in a graveyard, getting my arm sliced open. Before I unwillingly resurrected the largest magical fucking terrorist in history.

Not to mention that Voldemort was practically a God when it came to the Dark Arts, so I could only assume he had a massive headstart on me in terms of affinity. I could just go to Dumbledore and ask him for help but then I'd have to explain the whole situation, and he might just think I'm fucking crazy! Which means I can'—

"If I may," Daedalus spoke again, interrupting my frantic internal rambling, and drawing my attention back to him. "I think it would be in your best interest to gather a Hoard."

When I didn't say anything, he continued. "As a Dragon, your power will increase with the size of your hoard. Gathering gold, or ancient relics might allow you to gain new abilities, or powers. Forming political alliances or forming sexual bonds with partners would allow you to increase your affinity at an exponential rate."

My silence must've tipped him off to how utterly fucking confused I was, as he sighed and spoke again. "Partners of any kind, as long as they hold a meaningful relationship to you, are considered a part of your "Soul Hoard" with varying strength depending on their connection to you. The closer your connection to a member of your Hoard, the higher their Resonance will increase, which grants you increasingly stronger abilities."

"So… What, I should just go around fucking everyone I please and defeat Voldemort with the power of a condom??"

Daedalus tipped forward and caught his head in his hands, as if he wanted to rip his non-existent hair out at my question. Faint mutters in an unknown language escaped his lips, but I could only assume they were cursing me out.

"No." He finally spoke up, but refused to look at me again, instead finding the floor an impressive spot to gaze. "A Dragon grows stronger with their Hoard, yes. But no Dragon would hoard sticks and stones, when they could hoard Gems and Relics instead. The same can be said of your partners. You could… Copulate with your entire year. But it would be far easier to find partners you wish to retain long term."

I went silent again as I thought about it. He had a point, and frankly I didn't want to deal with the logistics of being Gryffindor's local man whore anyways. But who I would even integrate in the first place was a tricky question. But — wait. He said political partners too. So, theoretically, if I built up enough Resonance with someone like Dumbledore, then I would get massive boons to my affinities!

But — then I would have to find a way to get close to Dumbledore. As much as he trusted me for being the "Boy Who Lived" that would surely dissipate as I made moves of my own. Acted in ways that he was unfamiliar with. And he would never trust me anyways — not fully. As much as I admired the man, he kept his cards far too close to the chest for comfort.

"Okay." I nod, running a hand through my messy hair and making a mental note to tie it back later. Or something to that effect. "I guess I have a few goals to work on at least. Something to work on. Maybe—" I paused as my stomach grumbled angrily, desperate for food. "… Maybe I should go get some food."

Daedalus finally looked back up, with a weary look to his eyes. "That would be for the best, Sovereign. Even though time does not exist in this space, it's prudent you have time to digest everything I've told you. And there is plenty of time for adventure ahead, so you should cherish what little rest you get."

"Now." He stands from the chair, swiping his hand at the sigils as they disappear with a flash of magic. "If you need anything, you know how to contact me." And before I could say anything, I disappeared and returned to the hallway out of the Hospital Wing.

"Fucking hell. What a goddamn day.” I muttered to myself as I moved away from the hospital wing and down towards the great hall. “Gotta leave seats for Ginny and Luna.” I reminded myself.

My mind drifted for a moment as Ginny filled my mind, replacing my thoughts of the palace and everything Daedalus had told me. I was lucky that I hadn’t been isekai’d into the body of an eleven year old, because holy fuck going through puberty twice would’ve been hell. And it came with the advantage of seeing my childhood crushes in their full glory.

Ginny was healthy and athletic, with a confident presence. Accentuated by nice, firm breasts and an ass that would make Lavender Brown jealous. If the whole idea of being transported into this universe wasn’t screwing with my brain, I might’ve had half a mind to screw her. But she’s Ron’s sister, and frankly I was never really a fan of their romance to begin with. Not to say we couldn’t be sex buddies, considering the whole “Soul Hoard” thing, but I didn’t intend to pursue her seriously.

My mind drifted to the other girls in the school, seeking reprieve from the puzzle it had been forced to put together.

Hermione wasn’t a terrible option, frankly better me than Ron. Especially if she and I actually spent more time together. There were the girls on the Quidditch team, but I doubt they’d go for an underclassmen. I guess Daphne was a popular pick in fanfics. Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones… I had options at least.

But maybe I should at least wait until I met the girls and got to know them before I picked out who I’d go for. Though I guess if I really needed a sex buddy just to deal with the urges then I could always go for Romilda… She had a thing for Harry, right? And Merlin knows no one in their right mind would lock that psycho down as a romantic interest.

Oh well. Something to figure out later, I realized as I found myself suddenly in the great hall with various boisterous voices filling my ears. I looked around, filled with an immense sense of wonder as I saw how genuinely humongous the hall was. I mean- the movies don’t do it justice. It’s freakin’ gigantic! And the food- Merlin it smelled so good.

I rushed to the Gryffindor table, looking for Ron and Hermione - who I spotted quickly, as they waved me over. I must’ve looked like a starved puppy as I ran over to them and quickly took my seat. But before I could dig in, “oh! Ginny and Luna are gonna sit with us.” I said quickly, before I could forget.

Ron laughed at my enthusiasm and clapped me on the back. “Easy there, Harry. You look like you haven’t eaten anything in months.”

I ignored his comments as I started piling food onto my plate, even as I heard Hermione admonish Ron for his comments. “Ronald, behave. Harry’s been through a lot lately. I’d be surprised if he’s had a proper meal since the chamber incident.”

I barely paused while taking a bite out of my food to think about the chamber. A quick flash of a freezing chill assaulting my body and that blood curdling scream - and then it was gone. And I was eating again. Luckily no one had noticed anything wrong, too busy in their own conversations.

“There he is! Our little savior!” A larger hand clapped me on the shoulder, and then a similar hand clapped me on the other. I turned to look at the source with food still in my mouth, finding the twin faces of Fred and George—or George and Fred or—whatever, looking down at me. “Haven’t seen you in a bloody minute, Potter! First you save our sister and then you hide from us so we can’t even thank you?”

I knew they were teasing me, which is why I only grinned as I tried to finish the food in my mouth quickly enough to respond to them. “Sorry,” once the food had cleared my throat. “I was in the Hospital Wing for a bit and then I just needed some time alone. But Ginny and her friend are gonna be joining us soon.” I added, hopefully to redirect them away from focusing on me.

“Oh is she now?” Fred- George- Fuck it! Fred asked with a raised eyebrow, looking over to Ron. “And why are we finding this out from Harry rather than our baby brother? Ronald?” Even as he tried to mimic their mother, or even Hermione, it was too easy to pick out the teasing tone beneath it all.

But Ron was ever quick to rise to the challenge, judging by how his face practically became a tomato. “Piss off!” He said angrily in retort. “I only just found out myself! And it’s not like they were letting her have visitors last night!”

“Oooh is little ickle ronniekins getting angry?~”

“The little ickle is getting angry~”

The brothers had started cooing at him in a baby voice and trying to fuck with him by ruffling his hair or pinching his cheek. Which, while it had the intended effect of annoying the hell out of Ron, even got Hermione to cover her mouth to avoid laughing too loudly.

This had continued for a good minute or two before a feminine voice drew our attention, “Boys. Stop harassing him.” Causing our heads to turn as we saw Ginny standing there with a… Frighteningly good impression of her mother’s scowl. So good that it even caused me to flinch and I hadn’t grown up fearing the damn thing!

“Gin!” Fred and George weren’t to be deterred however and damn near tackled the athletic girl into the ground. It helped they had the height advantage on her but it also spoke volumes of how much this must’ve happened that she wasn’t instantly plowed into the stone flooring beneath us. Instead she laughed and hugged the both of them back tightly. “Look at you!” “You look great Gin.” “Yeah, really great, Gin.” “Oh if we see that sprat Lockheart” “We’ll pummel him into the ground!”

I stared at Fred and George as they spoke over each other, surprised to hear them explicitly threaten the old DADA professor. Sure they were trouble, and they had no problems fucking with Umbridge in the 5th year but seeing them be so protective over Ginny was new. I blame Rowling for not giving us enough scenes with the side characters, personally.

Ginny however just laughed it off and patted them both on the chest. “It’s alright guys, I’m doing a lot better now. Oh! Have you met Luna?” She redirected the conversation easily enough to her companion, introducing the smaller, white haired girl to everyone else.

Luna honestly looked pretty similar to her book depiction but much more… Ethereal. Slim, short, dirty blonde hair. But those eyes… Sometimes Dumbledore’s eyes were described as twinkling but Luna’s were an entirely different beast. Like she held an entire galaxy behind those silvery orbs. Honestly I could see why she was sometimes a love interest for Harry, she was incredibly pretty. Maybe a bit naive, or… Strange. But aren’t we all? Hells, I see a giant system window that tells me I need to fuck to grow stronger. I don’t have a damn leg to stand on here.

Surprisingly, Luna integrated pretty quickly into the group. Probably because she was with Ginny this time around, and not acting all esoteric and cryptic on the carriages but even Hermione seemed to like her. Fred and George of course were practically treating her like a third sister, after Hermione, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Luna being the source of bullying would just cease to be a thing entirely after this.

And hell. If my power ran on Hoards, then maybe… This was the start of mine.

The rest of dinner was… Wonderful.

I understood why Harry was so loyal to them. Imagine growing up in a horrible, abusive situation and then you find out you’re a magical celebrity. But your first friends are just a couple of kids who treat you normally, and make you finally feel welcome somewhere. 

And I was certainly better adjusted than the real Harry Potter had ever been, so if I was smitten with them, you can imagine how a social outcast would feel. Though I knew it would only get more and more rough as time went on. 

Ron was always a bit of a prat in the books, so no telling how he’d be here. Hermione was… Honestly I’d argue Hermione was just a cranky, single mother that had to babysit two dipshits her own age. 

But maybe I could make things better this time around.  Wishful thinking maybe, but hey. Surely this world couldn’t be that bad compared to the books.

…

…

Right?

Chapter Text

The end of the school year was always a loud and boisterous thing. Even more so when you’re at a Wizarding School and people like Fred and George were around. I don’t know if it’s because I was in Harry’s body, or maybe I was just coping with everything better than I should be, but it honestly wasn’t that bad adjusting to it all. I’m not going to pretend like I was the perfect impersonator of Harry James Potter, but after everything that happened? I had some leeway.

There was an uproar, surprisingly, about the petrified students missing classes. Even worse when you consider at least one student was supposed to be taking their OWLs that year. I only say surprisingly because it was completely glossed over in the books. Mark that down for another divergence from canon I guess. Seeing Dumbledore get angry letters from the families, but also even a glare or two from McGonagall was a… I don’t want to say a “nice” surprise but it was certainly interesting to say the least.

I had gotten a few letters from Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and even a letter from Bill Weasley. Mostly thanking me for taking care of their daughter, and risking my life in the process. Of course that a 2nd year student had to risk their life in the first place was absolutely astounding, but oh well. I wasn’t the one who lived it.

…

Which brings me to the next issue at hand. I am Harry Potter now. Which means, as far as my canon knowledge could remember, next year would bring Dementors, a demented Prisoner, a fucking Werewolf and- THE RAT! I FORGOT ABOUT THE FUCKING RAT!

I quickly spun around in my chair, looking around the Gryffindor Common Room to see if Ron had gone to bed yet. It was late at night and I had zoned out a little while Hermione and Ron bickered about - Merlin knows what. Likely something about homework, or about Ron’s inability to sit down for five minutes and study Magic without wanting to just play chess instead.

Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen and the common room had been mostly cleared out by this point. “Yeah, that tracks.” I muttered to myself as I turned back in the seat to stare at the crackling fireplace. Flittering images of Sirius’ face coming through the coals that I barely remembered from the movies filled my mind for a brief moment before disappearing. “I could go get him.” I spoke softly, tilting my head as I considered how easy it would be to grab the tiny creature. My hand twitched as I imagined breaking its neck.

… No. I needed him alive, to prove Sirius was innocent. That’d be my best bet, right? I mean sure he wasn’t my Godfather, not really anyway. But the dude didn’t deserve Azkaban in any case. And living with him would certainly be a lot… Healthier, than living with the Dursleys. Though I didn’t intend to return to them this summer if I could help it - but I had a plan for that. No, it wasn’t to kill them.

But- How did he even escape in the first place? The whole animagus transformation, yeah… I had to rack my brain for several moments before I remembered the newspaper. It was the Weasley family winning the thousand galleons and getting their picture taken that allowed him to see Peter’s rat form. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to let him live till then.” I told myself before looking around the common room again just to make sure no one was paying attention to my soft rambling.

Okay maybe I was a little paranoid. Can you really blame me? Harry Potter wasn’t exactly known for his great mental state to begin with, nor was he known for being normal - considering the parseltongue abilities. So it’s better for me if I don’t give them more reasons to call me a freak.

Another few seconds of monitoring the room and I turned back to the fire, grabbing a nearby book to at least look like I was just talking to myself about homework or something. “Peter needs to be seen by Sirius to motivate him to escape. I could grab him- maybe do… Fucking something with it. But the easiest way would be to just let him be seen and then I can capture him when we get back to school. I don’t need him after that, I just need access to Sirius once he’s out of there.”

As if right on cue, another window appeared in front of me just above the fireplace.

🌌 [SOVEREIGN’S BURDEN] 🌌
The Loom of Fate quivers. Two threads knot in your grasp. One drips with betrayal, the other with salvation. Only one strand may endure. Only one noose may break.

⟡ Option A: Spare the Oathbreaker
“Let the rat scurry back to his Master. Mercy now, and in time your sacrifice shall awaken bonds unbroken. To chain yourself to restraint is to invite patience… and patience breeds reward. But with it — risk.”

• Locked Reward: [Bond of the Hound]

• Weave’s Warning: “The Wheel exacts its toll. Every delay sharpens another blade.”

⟡ Option B: Sever the Traitor
“Cut deep, and the chain lies broken. End the root before it coils, and watch the tapestry recoil in new, twisted patterns. The price is mercy denied, the gain is power untempered. However, one gain is another loss.”

• Locked Reward: [Dominion Spark: Severance]

• Weave’s Warning: “What is not forged, is forever unmade. Mercy once slain does not rise again.”

✨ Sovereign’s Advisory:
Few mortals question the loom. They march to its measure, blind to the threads that bind them. But you, Wyrmling… You clutch the shears. Every thread you sever carves your Hoard. Every chain you spare drags it heavier behind you.

I stared at the window silently for several seconds before sighing. Of course Daedalus would have something like this - a quest, or something like it anyways. It was easy enough to tell what the first option was. Spare Peter, rescue Sirius from Azkaban, and gain his trust. “Delays have costs-” yada yada. An eerie way of telling me that Voldemort’s return won’t be affected. Though I guess that makes sense, even if I kill Peter, I doubt it would really do anything long term.

The second option… That’s where it gets questionable. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what “Dominion Spark” is meant to be, but it must be powerful enough to completely ditch Sirius. Or maybe I’m just expected to not care that much about him. Like I said earlier, he’s not my Godfather. 

… 

Yeah. I fucking hate this, because I already know which option I’m gonna pick. Even as I turned to look at the stairs up to the dorm room, I knew it would be so easy to go in there and kill Peter. But I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I wasn’t gonna let my Godfather rot in that prison. Not in a million years.

I sigh and turn back to the book in my hands, looking it over as I thought about my next steps. Everything would be the same for the most part. The Weasleys would win the cash prize, they’d get their picture taken, and Sirius escapes. But that didn’t mean I would just stick my thumbs up my ass and do nothing else. I needed to be ready for Voldemort’s return. Which meant figuring out how my magic works, and hopefully fixing the lanky body I’m stuck with.

First things first, dealing with the Dursleys. I won’t pretend like I have a shred of hope for Dumbledore letting me leave them. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Dumbledore is consistent. And in this case, it means he constantly thinks he knows best and refuses to include anyone else in his plans unless absolutely necessary.

But that didn’t mean all hope was lost. McGonagall was usually the voice of reason and seemed to care about Harry a lot. And she seemed pissed as of late at Dumbledore, which I really don’t blame her. First the Philosopher’s Stone, and now the Basilisk? The fact she hadn’t hexed him in the middle of the great hall yet was honestly a miracle.

So maybe if I talk to her, we can see if she can do anything to help me? I could always mention how the Dursleys treated me, I’m sure that would get me a lot of brownie points. Especially with the Basilisk incident and everything else… Yeah. McGonagall was my best bet here. I’d go talk to her in the morning and see if I could convince her of my case. If everything went my way, I’d never have to see those assholes again.

Once I had a safe place, I could start to actually work on the rest of my - yawn - plans. Merlin, I was tired. And it was going to be a rough day tomorrow, which wasn’t helping my case. I slowly closed the book and tucked it under my arm as I pushed myself up from the couch with a sigh. My footsteps heavy as I moved to the staircase and slowly trekked up to the four person dorm. I barely bothered with getting into my pajamas before I collapsed onto the bed and tucked myself in, feeling sleep take me quickly.

…

…

“Sleep tight, little Wyrmling. There are big things planned for you.”

…

…

I woke the next morning with a grumbling sound scratching my throat. My body resisted the desire to get out of bed, even as the sunlight gently poured in through the window looking over the grounds below.

“Look who decides to join us.” A laughing tone calls to me from one of the other beds as Ron finishes getting dressed. “Almost thought you’d sleep in all day, mate.”

Another grumble escaped me as I rubbed my face roughly. “Merlin. So did I.” I surely would have, if not for all the various things I had to do today. “Wha’ time is it?” I mumbled vaguely, looking around through bleary eyes.

It took a moment for Ron to respond, “S’bout a quarter past eight, mate. Shower’s open if you need to use it. Though I’d hurry up if ya wanna make breakfast. I’ll save you a seat.” As he made his way to the stairs.

I waved at him vaguely as my other hand grabbed my glasses, gently stuffing them onto my face so I could see. I took a moment to look around, letting out a soft sigh. I was the only one left in the dorm, which was fine. I could at least shower in peace. So I got out of bed, grabbed my clean clothes and a towel, and made my way to the shower we shared.

Say what you will about Hogwarts and all the weird design choices they make - of which there were plenty, but at least they had amazing showers. Hot water, great pressure, spacious. God it was perfect.

“Mind if I join you?~” A feminine voice broke through my concentration and caused me to yelp.

I turned to look at the voice and my eyes widened as I found myself face to face with Ginny Weasley. Except I wasn’t just staring at my friend’s younger sister, I was staring at her completely naked form. And God it was hard not to stare.

She was gorgeous.

Every inch of her was some mix of firm athleticism and curvy femininity. She might not have been as curvy as I would like but I certainly wasn’t going to complain about a naked girl in front of me.

Ah. Right. There was a naked girl in front of me, and I was just staring.

“Ginny- what’re you doing here?” My confusion was almost as evident as my arousal, which was currently hardening to show just how much I enjoyed what I was seeing.

A small smirk crossed her face as she closed the distance between us, her hand reaching down to grab my length. Her fingers barely fit around the girth as she gently stroked up and down, using the water from the shower to lubricate her grip. “Just wanted to thank my savior~ You got a problem with that, Potter?~”

A soft groan rumbled through my chest as my hand tried to find purchase on the nearby shower wall, not having expected her to grab my cock so boldly. “Gin-” I let out a soft breath, my eyes wandering across her body. “Nope,” I groaned, “no problem here.”

“Good.” She whispered into my ear as her stroking slowly increased, her other hand snaking down to fondle my balls. “Because we’re missing breakfast, so we need to be fast.” And then she was kneeling down in front of me and I had to stop myself from grabbing her head on instinct.

Instead I just nodded, not that she’d see it, and left her to it.

My cock throbbed in her hand as her hand moved up and down enthusiastically, though her lack of skill was evident. Not that I cared right now, especially as she drew another groan from my throat. “All for me, Potter?~ I bet you just wanna fuck my tight throat, don’t you big boy~” She teased me again before spitting onto my length.

I couldn’t resist. My hand moved to the top of her head and my fingers moved through her ginger locks. “Jesus, Gin.” I said huskily as I watched her on her knees. I could see the desire in her eyes and I knew exactly what to give her. To give my biggest fan.

“Suck that cock, babe. Show me just how hungry you are for that load.” I nearly growled as I pulled her in closer to my cock as it throbbed in anticipation of a warm, wet mouth.

She didn’t say anything, merely grinned at me before suddenly diving onto the length. Forcing it as far back into her throat as it could go before gagging at the thick intruder. But to her defense, she didn’t pull away. She stared up at me with those beautiful eyes as she choked on my cock and something in me snapped.

Both hands gripped her head and I planted my feet in the shower, before I forced her even further onto my cock. “Come on, Weasley.” I snarled, slowly forcing another inch into her throat. “Gag on it, Gin. Take that fucking cock like you were born for it.” I snarled, even as she gagged and spat all over my length as it pushed deeper.

I held her there for a few seconds, watching her eyes slowly roll back before I pulled out. My cock was slick with saliva and pulsing as she coughed and tried to catch her breath. I didn’t give her long before I tightened my grip and slammed my length back into that warm mouth. 

Her hands found my thighs, but instead of pushing me away, she tried to pull me deeper in. So I obliged. I started fucking her throat roughly, pushing my thick cock into her throat to choke her. Then I pulled out, and drove it back in. My balls bounced off her chin as spit flew everywhere, coating the lower half of her face as she tried to endure my assault.

Her grip tightened on my thighs as I grinned wildly. If she wanted to play rough, then I’d happily oblige her.

I yanked my cock out and then slapped her across the face. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to snap her head to the side. “Fucking whore.” My voice rumbled out of my throat and I watched her eyes lock onto mine, full of lust. “You’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock to the base, right?”

She nodded fanatically and dove back onto my cock, causing me to groan loudly as I watched her nearly hit the base in one go. And who was I to deny her? I gripped her head tighter and pushed her down as my other hand found her throat, wrapping around it. I felt the bulge of my cock in her throat as I pushed her deeper and deeper. Until her nose hit my pubic bone and she was gagging up a storm against my crotch.

“Shut up and take it like a good girl, Ginny.” I stepped forward, pushing her back slightly as I stood over her. Giving my cock just that little bit of extra space in her throat as she looked up at me with a mix of fear and lust in her eyes. But she still never tried to pull away. She seemed hellbent on choking herself out on my cock if I let her. And it was tempting.

But I pulled out, leaving a massive trail of spit leading from the tip of my cock to her mouth as she coughed and sputtered. “Such a good girl.” I rubbed her head and cheek gently, comforting her after that brutal assault. And I was rewarded by her nuzzling into my hand like a puppy as she looked up at me, slightly delirious.

“You gonna cum down my throat, master?~” She said in a soft, submissive voice. Even as a playful, almost arrogant smirk crossed her face.

I stared down at her in silence for one heartbeat. Two. And then my cock plunged back into her throat and built up a brutal, jackhammering pace. I never let up, forcing her throat to take every inch of my cock until it would surely remember the vein pattern. The sound of my balls slapping her chin mixed with the sounds of her gagging on my cock, filling the bathroom like a lewd orchestra as I groaned and growled.

“Take it! Fuck!” I grunted harshly as I felt my balls begin to tense. “Fucking suck that cock, Ginny!”

She did her best to suck and slurp my length like it was the juiciest lollipop she’d ever found. Like the desperate little whore she was. She could say whatever she wanted about wanting to thank her savior, but I knew better. She would’ve jumped my bones day one if she had even half a back bone as she did right now. 

Part of me wondered if she would’ve ever thanked the other Harry like this. Or if my Draconic abilities had something to do with it.

I didn’t wonder long however, too focused on throat fucking the ginger slut in front of me as my orgasm began to rush up my cock. My body was pent up and her submissive body was just the perfect little toy for me to get off right now.

I didn’t even warn her. I didn’t need to. She drove herself down onto my cock, taking it to the base again as I tilted my head back and practically yelled. My cock throbbing once, twice. Then hot, thick ropes of cum began to spurt down her throat. Filling her belly with my seed as she greedily drank every drop.

I was so busy blowing my load down her throat that I didn’t notice the new status window until I was done. Once my balls had been drained and I let go of her head, she started kissing and licking my cock obediently. Desperate for any remnants of my taste as I sighed, running a hand through my messy hair.

And then I noticed it.

🜲 [SOUL RESONANCE INITIATED] 🜲
Dominion Registry: NEW ENTRY CONFIRMED
The Draconic Hoard acknowledges a foundational bond.

“Any true Dragon must first lay claim to its territory, and defend it just as fiercely.”

Partner Identified:
🔥 Ginny Weasley
✦ "The Emberbrand" — Bold, Loyal, Fierce

Connection Type:
Primary: Sexual Union
Secondary: Emerging Emotional Bond
Status: Active

🔸 RESONANCE REPORT 🔸

Current Resonance Strength: 39%

Shared Growth Channels (Accelerated Learning):
• Martial Magic — Increased adaptability in combat spellwork. Training efficiency boosted when dueling or sparring.
• Dark Arts — Tempered resilience against corruptive influences. Faster grasp of hostile spell structures.
• Warding — Stronger intuitive grasp of protective magic. Shields and barriers stabilize more readily under pressure.
• Healing — Enhanced instinct for preservation. Accelerated learning curve when tending wounds or restoring vitality.

Emotional Link: Flickering Bond
↳ “Stable growth depends on trust, vulnerability, and shared ambition.”

Synergy Potential:
🜲 Moderate. A deeper bond will magnify both magical progress and emotional stability.

Dominion Effect:
🜲 “Hoard Flame Ignited” — Passion sharpens power. Spells cast in defense of the Hoard surge with temporary potency.

✨ UNIQUE TRAIT UNLOCKED ✨
[Bloodfire Pact]
Your magic answers with ferocity when protecting those bound to your Soul Hoard.

Protective and retaliatory spells gain +10% potency when your Hoard is endangered.

This effect scales as your Hoard grows.

🜲 SYSTEM ADVISORY 🜲
This bond is still young. Shared growth is uneven and will fluctuate.
Deeper intimacy, revelations, or trials overcome together will increase Resonance.

“You have taken your first step as a true Sovereign. But beware: every treasure carries weight. Every flame casts a shadow.”

I stared at it silently for several moments as Ginny sucked and licked every inch of my softening cock, making sure she had gotten all of my seed. I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as I turned my focus back to the redhead beneath me, rubbing the top of her head gently.

“Good girl.”

She let out a submissive sound and nuzzled my length before staring up at me with that same signature smirk. “Glad you enjoyed~ Now I need to get dressed and back down to the great hall before people start to ask questions.” 

She gave me a wink before standing up and heading towards the door. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll come back for a ride of that magical cock~” Her hips swaying playfully, and giving me a perfect view of that ass before the door closed and she was gone. Leaving me alone to contemplate what just happened and finish my shower.

I stared blankly at the door as the hot water poured down my back. I had seriously just gotten a blowjob from my friend’s hot sister. Not only that I fucked the hell out of her throat. Sure I’d been a little rough before with past lovers but Jesus, that was unique.

Another laugh escaped me as I turned to shut off the shower. “I guess that answers that. Ginny, huh?” Not what I had expected. Hell, I hadn’t expected to fuck anyone yet but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain about it.

Once the shower was turned off I made my way towards the door to head out and get dressed. I didn’t know how long breakfast was going to continue for and I really didn’t want to miss out on more food. Especially after all of.. That.

Luckily it didn’t take me long to get dressed, though I still ran my ass off as quickly as I could to reach the hall. Only slowing down once I was near the doors so I didn’t look like a madman running in to scream about trolls in the dungeon. Now that I think about it, didn’t I technically have a voice in my head like Quirrel did? … Shut up.

I walked inside and headed straight for my usual spot at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the various looks I was getting from students. Which was certainly nothing new in the life of Harry Potter either way.

As soon as I sat down, I was barraged by questions from Ron about what took me so long. I shrugged them off with a simple “got stopped by Filch” on the way down which then got him talking about how the Squib always seemed to have it out for the students, and he didn’t understand why.

I just let him rant as I piled food onto my plate, though I noticed the look I was getting from Hermione. I lifted my head to look at her, and raised an eyebrow.

She stared at me for a few seconds longer, returning my gaze with her own raised eyebrow and a playful smirk. Before she returned to her food, seemingly content with leaving me curious as to what the hell she found so funny. Fortunately, I was starving, so I just went back to eating.

I looked up towards the staff table to see if Professor McGonagall was still there, which she was. So I quickly scarfed down my food and moved to stand up from the table to go talk to her.

“Wat’ch doi’h ma’e?” Ron asked with a mouthful of food before being smacked on the back of the head by Hermione. “Ow!”

“Chew your food before speaking, Ronald! It’s impolite!”

It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was asking, regardless of how much food he was trying to stuff down his gullet, so I just answered anyway. “I need to talk with Professor McGonagall. I’ll be back. Maybe.” As I moved away from the table and down towards the Professors.

“Professor McGonagall?” I asked once I got close enough for her to hear. “Sorry, could we talk really quick?”

She looked surprised at me approaching her out of nowhere but quickly nodded and stood up from her chair. “Certainly, Mr. Potter. What is it?” As she came around the table to stand in front of me, her wand casually flicked as she cast a privacy charm around us.

“It’s about my family. And the Headmaster.” I watched her gaze harden slightly at the mention of Dumbledore, but I continued. I caught her up on everything that the Dursleys did, how they kept me locked up in a cupboard before eventually giving me a room. How the reason we’d come to the school in a magical car was because they locked my bedroom window with iron grates and were planning on keeping me there before my rescue by the Weasleys.

Honestly, the longer I spoke, the more I thought she’d burst a blood vessel in sheer rage. Or maybe she’d kick down the Dursley’s front door and start hexing them six ways from sundays. … Both? It was hard to tell what she was thinking beyond the obvious rage.

“I see.” She said coldly, but it wasn’t directed towards me. “I was not made aware of your living situation. I had been assured you would be safe.”

I looked away from her, doing my best impression of a beaten puppy. “It’s not your fault, Professor. I just.” I trail off for a moment, swallowing. “I was hoping you could help me talk to the Headmaster about finding an alternate living situation? I…” I sniffled. “I really don’t want to go back to them, Professor…”

My acting was impressive, even by my own standards. And it certainly got the job done as Professor McGonagall immediately stood straight and grabbed my shoulder with a gentle grip. “Of course, Harry. Come, let’s go chat with the Headmaster. Hopefully we can resolve this situation before you all head down to the train today.”

I had forgotten we were supposed to be boarding the train at lunch today. Maybe that’s why Ginny was so eager today in the shower. Cause she knew it’d be one of her last moments to do it before we left, and didn’t have privacy?

“Professor McGonagall, Harry m’boy.” Dumbledore’s voice broke my concentration as I found that I had apparently been guided over to the Headmaster’s seat. I guess the Professor was more serious than I imagined about handling this situation.

“Headmaster.” McGonagall said with a firm tone as she locked her steel gaze with Dumbledore. “Mister Potter here just informed me that he’d like to find different living arrangements from now.” Her tone was sharp, and deadly. As if daring Dumbledore to speak back against her. 

“Apparently his relatives have been unsatisfactory when it comes to his well being.” McGonagall’s jaw tightened, and her wand hand twitched at her side. Eyes ablaze with a rare fury as if she was just waiting for Dumbledore to give her a reason to be less considerate. “You assured me. He would be safe.” She spoke quietly, but every word was like a knife cutting through the air. “Clearly, that was a mistake.”

To Dumbledore’s credit, his gaze didn’t waver, even as his lips thinned. “Minerva,” he began. “You must understand. Some sacrifices are necessary. Harry’s safety has always been paramount.” Yet there was a flicker of regret beneath the sparkle of his eyes.

I swallowed, watching two titans have a battle of willpower right in front of me. It was like two Dragons were fighting and I was a mere ant witnessing apocalyptic power. It felt like the weight of all my plans were hinging on this moment, and I was praying the scales would tip in my favor.

McGonagall’s hand tightened on my shoulder comfortingly as she bore Dumbledore’s gaze as if it were nothing, and returned her own with a fierceness that defied her gentle, almost matronly demeanor. Must’ve been the Scottish blood in her. “I will not allow Mister Potter — Harry — to be put in harm's way by those… Abusers.”

It was like a hammer had dropped and shattered an entire glass floor. The weight of her word came down as if Voldemort himself had arrived through the ceiling and killed Dumbledore on the spot. Even Snape and Flitwick had turned to watch the interaction. Waiting to see how this match between the two greatest wizards in these halls would turn out.

“...” Dumbledore stared at her silently for several seconds before he finally nodded. The air suddenly felt lighter and it was like I could breathe again. I hadn’t realized just how thick the tension was until suddenly it was gone. “Alright, Minerva. I think it’s best if you find a suitable alternative for Harry, then. Perhaps Gringotts has sole old property in his parents’ will that could be used.”

She stared for a beat longer, her gaze never wavering. “I think that’s for the best, yes.” And then she turned - and so did I. She guided me away from the table, and even towards the main doors of the Great Hall.

“Uhm- Professor-” I spoke up gently, not sure I wanted to say anything to begin with after what I just watched. “Where are we going?”

Her grip loosened on my shoulder, and she moved the hand to the other side, pressing me into her gently like a mother would with her child. “We’re going to Gringotts, Harry.” The weight with which she said my name was like a hammer to my heart. 

“I understand you might like to go with your friends on the train,” she added, leaving the door open for protest, “but I think it’s best if we get you situated as soon as possible.”

I paused. Then nodded.

“Okay.” 

I didn’t reject it. My plans hinged on finding a place to live by myself, or at least somewhere that I wouldn’t be unnecessarily disturbed. I would have plenty of time to visit Ron, Hermione, and the others.

But I needed this. My plans needed this. This was freedom. A clean break from the Dursleys, and a chance to prepare. To grow.

We walked in silence for another few paces before I stopped in the middle of the corridor suddenly, then hugged her. My arms wrapped around her slender form as I buried my face into her shoulder. 

“Thank you.” 

Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes at finally being free from the Dursleys. From their abuse. I felt her arms wrap around me after a single beat, her hand rubbing my back comfortingly.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a burden.

Chapter Text

THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

The chamber was older than the Department around it. Older, even, than the Ministry itself. Built deep into the bedrock beneath London, where all the major ley lines converged.

A half-circle amphitheater, lined in voidstone - an ancient building material that devoured any light and sound. The stone framed the archway at its center, cracked and scorched, but unwavering — its integrity eternal. Time had passed over it, but the arch remained, as if it were waiting.

The veil itself shimmered gently like smoke rolling across silk threads. Voices whispered names that hadn’t been spoken in centuries. 

The veil shimmered softly, smoke on silk threads, whispering names long forgotten.
Step too close, and it would speak in the voices of those you loved most.

To Thorne, it simply echoed.

A resonance. Frequency. One that had changed since last he saw it.

“There it is again,” he murmured in a gentle tone, one pale hand pressed against the warded obelisk behind him. The obsidian metal pulsed with faint runes from dead tongues long thought lost to its ancestors. Its surface crawls with erratic pulses of shimmering magic.

He monitors the veil with sharp eyes as the magic thrums beneath his finger tips. “What are you trying to tell me…” He raised his hand towards the veil and closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent chant.

Fire. Brimstone. Gold. Glittering. Shimmering. Crown. Destruction. Heat. Rebirth. DEATH. LIFE. SOUL. 

The words passed by his mind rapidly like stakes driving into his skull and leaving behind a burning brand on his subconscious. A silent scream tore at his throat as his eyes snapped open, tilting skyward. The archway dissolved, replaced by a presence: immense, burning, aware. Golden fire licked the edges of vision, as if the air itself had turned molten.

His hand slips from the Obelisk—

“Thorne, sweetie, come back to bed.”

“Shh, it’s okay darling. We’re here.”

“Come on, sport. Let’s go throw the ball around.”

His hand snapped back to the Obelisk and the voices muted themselves once more as he gasped, lungfuls of air burning down to his lungs. Frantic eyes shot towards the archway — it was still there. Everything was the same. The room was exactly the same as it was.

Except for the prickling sensation on his neck, as if something had chosen to rest its claws against him as a subtle warning.

And beneath it, deeper still, a hum. A resonance threading through his chest. Golden, vast, coiled. Like a Monster stretching its claws in the dark, testing its reach. It felt awake and it felt hungry. But not for flesh, nor blood. For power. For conquest. The last time something like this had been reported, the world soon found itself plunged into an immense, unstable darkness that they were still barely crawling out of.

The Obelisk beneath his fingers hummed in response, nearly imperceptible. Threads of golden light, fine as hair, traced upward from the runes,. Interlacing with the echoes of his own life force and tugging softly, nudging. The air tasted of molten iron and ancient stone, of power more ancient than any mortal crown.

"… Something is coming." Thorne swallowed hard, steadying his breath. The claws press further into his neck with a threatening promise. Then, realization swallowed him whole.

It's already here.

A deep, slow inhale as he felt the resonance receding just enough to let him stand straight once more. Whatever it was, it had shown its teeth. Not in fury — but in reminder. Leaving little more than a soft mark on his soul to remember it by. A warning he would not soon forget.

GRINGOTTS

I was slowly realizing that I really needed to stop relying on my movie - or even book - knowledge for everything. Do you remember the first time Harry stepped into Gringotts in the movie? Or maybe when they burst through the ceiling on the Dragon?

Trust me. None of it does the real thing justice.

The moment I stepped through the front door and crossed the threshold, a pulse of magic echoed up my body and settled behind my rib cage like a second heart.

Not the warm buzz of a wand when you pick it up for the first time. Nor the flexible snap of a Transfiguration spell. This was far older. Denser. It felt like I was being watched. Judged by something that had been here long before me, and would be here long after I was gone.

Guards stood on either side of the large entryway, clad in specialized armor and wielding weapons that looked far too menacing even with their stature.

The lobby was vast. Vaulted ceilings of enchanted obsidian etched with golden veins that pulsed with an unseen rhythm. The floor was made of bone glass and if I looked hard enough, I could see the fossilized remains of various magical beasts etched into the stone.

It was like looking into a pensieve, except all I saw in return was greed. Oaths. Blood spilled that had been reclaimed over centuries.

I shuddered softly as I turned my face back upwards.

The pillars grew like giant stone sequoias. Each one carved with an intricately woven design, all unique. It wasn’t hard to tell that they meant something to the Goblins, but would always remain a secret to Wizarding kind.

Behind the counters were tellers in deeply colored, high collared coats and circlets of iron and silver. Each carried a presence that was far older than they looked. Their eyes turned to look at me with a precise gaze. Not cruel, nor kind. Watchful.

McGonagall had chosen to wait outside, believing this to be a private matter. I was starting to wish she hadn’t.

My feet carried me to the far end, and I came to rest before the large podium where a single goblin stood, writing on a piece of parchment.

“Yes?” He spoke after a moment. His voice rumbled through his throat cooly as his dark, obsidian eyes found mine. “Mister Potter.” Not surprised. It was as if he expected me.

I nodded, swallowing lightly. “I would like to view my estate.” I hesitated. “If I’m being honest, Sir,” my politeness caught him off guard, if barely. “I have no experience in this. So if it’s possible, I would like to hire Gringotts’ services in… Guiding me. As it were.”

He stared at me silently for several seconds, as if waiting for the tirade of insults or some pureblood fanaticism to breach through. When none came, and I stood there silently waiting for a response, he nodded. “As you wish, Mister Potter. In that case, we will be willing to provide you with solicitor services, once we’ve established your Lordship. For a price.”

“Naturally. I’m willing to pay, as long as the price is right. I need help navigating my way through it all, so anyone who’s willing to put up with questions would be greatly appreciated.”

The goblin stares again and then snorts. “Yes, quite. One moment.” He walked down from the podium and made his way through a door made of old wood and ash.

Once he was gone, I took a heavy sigh and rubbed my face. “That went better than expected.” I murmured softly as all of the willpower I had built up to even do that came crashing down around me. I didn’t know whether to expect the Goblins to be rude, or condescending, or even the most nice and pleasant people to work with.

So I took a shot in the dark. After all, honesty and politeness can get you far. It seemed to work out.

It wasn’t long before the door opened again and the goblin from before walked back out, this time followed by another. This goblin wore a dark maroon suit with thin spectacles, and had a pocket watch in his breast pocket. Even for Gringotts standards, he was professional looking.

And it slightly concerned me.

“Mister Potter,” the first goblin addressed me, “if you’d be so kind as to follow Ironquill here, he’ll be capable of assisting you in setting up your Lordship and then discussing your estate.”

Ironquill stared at me silently, waiting.

I nodded quickly and moved to follow him. “Thank you.” I said quickly as he led me through a different door and into the back.

The corridors thrummed with their own unique energy, and the walls were just as carved as everything else in this building. Showing depictions of the goblins history- I assumed. I had the feeling that it’d be best if I didn’t ask questions about it regardless.

I followed Ironquill into an elevator that descended past the vault levels. Past dragon-guarded tracks and cursed corridors into the deafening silence of the underground. When the gate opened, I found myself standing in the midst of a grand circular chamber that was roughly nine meters (thirty feet) across. Around the edges were eight stone plinths with faintly glowing runes and etched carvings across their surface.

It was filled with the kind of silence that seemed to bind even time and space together, ensuring that nothing could be heard unless it was meant to be. Just as my own name echoed in the ceiling like an invisible spectator was announcing my arrival.

“Harry James Potter”

I looked up towards the ceiling at the mention of my name, but found nothing. A small shiver crawled down my spine as I turned to look at the rest of the room.

The stone walls were a dark, almost black obsidian-veined granite. Carved beautifully with angular goblin script and ancient magical runes that seemed to pulse in time with the feeling beneath my rib cage, as if trying to sense my intentions. As if it could smell the blood in my veins and wanted to identify to whom it truly belonged.

There was no lighting except from the runes etched into the stones that pulsed with a faint golden hue. And yet I could see everything perfectly. From end to end, and even the deeper inscriptions among the walls.

My feet pulled me forward towards the center of the room as Ironquill stood back and watched silently. Just as soon as I had arrived in the chamber, I had found myself stood before a large basin. Carved from onyx and rimmed with phoenix-feathers. Several magical rings were suspended above the basin, floating slowly around each other.

If I focused hard enough, I could see the runes carved in a circle around the center that flickered faintly as I crossed over to them.

“Mister Potter.” Ironquill’s deep voice broke through the trance, causing me to turn back so I could look into his eyes. His gaze seemed closer than he really was and his voice spoke like he was right next to my ear. “Once the rite is called, neither wand nor voice may cross the line. What happens within — is yours. And yours alone. Do you understand?”

I didn’t respond for several seconds before finally nodding. “I understand.” With that, I turned back towards the basin in the middle. And eventually to the small knife next to it. 

“Here goes nothing.” I muttered to myself as I gripped the handle and brought the blade to my palm. A soft breath escapes me before I drag the knife across my soft flesh, cutting through the tissue until crimson stained my skin. I barely wince, not even feeling the pain of slicing my own skin open.

I set the knife back down in its spot and lift my hand over the basin. Slowly my fingers close into a firm grasp around nothing as I make a fist. Squeezing the blood from my palm into the basin.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Drops of blood fall into the swirling liquid as it begins to shimmer with a bright silver color.

If I had been paying attention, I would’ve noticed the temperature of the room had slowly dropped several degrees. I would’ve seen the runes along the walls shifting into an active script—echoes of House names, histories, and their battles.

But I didn’t.

My eyes stayed on the basin as the silver became a violent gold and the liquid swirled erratically. A pressure slowly built on my rib cage as the room exploded in a cascade of magic and runic letters began to carve themselves into the ceiling in a brilliant light show.

POTTER.

Ironquill stared at the letters and nodded slowly to himself. The young Lord had been claimed by his family magic. Though as he turned to look back down at Harry, he found his gaze ripped upwards to the ceiling again as the runic letters continued. Shock crossed his face as he watched another name carve itself in the sky.

BLACK.

Two families had claimed him. This hadn’t happened in eons and even Ironquill was knowledgeable enough to know this would shake up the very foundations of the Wizarding World.

Which is why a razor sharp grin crested his face as he turned back to the new Lord who stood beneath the whirling storm of mana as the two family magics laid their claim on him. “Oh this will be delicious. They won’t know what to do with you.” The goblin said to himself — not that the words could even find their way to Harry at this moment. Not through the violence of ancient magic laying claim to its sole bloodline once more.

Within the magic, I stood silently as I stared into the hypnotic swirl of liquid in the basin. It was like I had been put into a trance and nothing else mattered in the world. But I slowly pulled my head upwards, fighting against the chains that seemed to wrap around my neck. I knew what I would find — but I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

My gaze locked onto the two burning names in the sky as they almost seemed to clash together. Slowly an arm stretched outwards towards the name as magic crackled between my fingertips. “I claim the Potter Lordship in the name of Harry James Potter, descendant of James and Lily Potter, and grandson of Lord Fleamont Potter.”

The POTTER runes seemed to slowly quiet themselves down at my words, though the BLACK runes were still shifting aggressively, as if refusing me. Or refusing the need to share me with the Potter Lordship.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Sirius’ face entered my mind. The fierceness of his love that I remembered from the books filled my heart with a warmth I had only felt once before. When McGonagall had wrapped her arms around me tightly. “I claim the Black Lordship in the name of Harry James Black. Descendant of Dorea Black and Heir to Lord Sirius Orion Black.” The name left my lips before I could stop it. 

I hadn’t meant it as some grand statement, or even to change my name. It just — felt right. I wanted the family magic to know exactly who I was doing this for. My Godfather. Not some fanatic purebloods I had not, nor would ever know.

I watched as the runes above flared violently once more. Burning with the coldness of silver and iron amongst the storm before the BLACK name twisted once more—then settled. Coiled. Watching.

Before I could do or say anything else, the storm of magic suddenly twisted tighter and then rushed towards me. Falling from the sky like a meteor as it crashed into me, burning and sinking into my flesh like a brand.

A soft gasp escaped my lips and I stumbled back from the basin as a heat bloomed across my chest. Like it was nestling itself just next to my heart. I could feel it — something had been carved into me. Not with steel, but with magic and blood and the power behind a name.

It was over. The runes around the chamber slowly dimmed and the storm above quieted down. Returning to its relaxed spectating of events beneath it. Only the silence remained. But even in the stillness, the weight in my chest thrummed quietly with a coiled, almost slumbering resonance.

I don’t know how long I stood there, my gaze locked onto the basin before I heard the soft tapping of shoes coming up behind me. “It is done.” Ironquill’s voice once again broke through the silence of the chamber. “Shall we go over your estates now, Young Lord?” As if everything that happened was nothing, he spoke with a casual tone.

But I couldn’t rebuke it. Even as I turned to look at him and saw the soft glint of excitement beneath those obsidian eyes, I couldn’t say he was wrong. Everything that happened here was for me. No one else would know about it. Not even Ironquill would know exactly what had happened to me in this ritual.

So I merely nodded. “I’d like that a lot, thank you.” My tone was just as polite as it had been since I arrived. Even as my hand found its place on my chest, right where I could feel the faint pulse of the family magics, still slowly nestling themselves within me.

The trip back upstairs had been just as silent as it was coming down. Ironquill led me into the elevator and then out of it once we returned to the surface. The only sound were our footsteps as we quietly made our way towards one of the protected estate rooms they had prepared for moments like this.

I soon found myself nestled at one end of a beautifully carved wooden table, with Ironquill to my right as he snapped his fingers and a large ledger appeared before him 

“We’ll start with the Potter estate as it stands currently. Then we will continue on to the last will and testaments that have you included in them. Do you have any questions before we begin?”

“No, I’m ready.” I shook my head. I figure even the actual Harry Potter would’ve had the brain necessary to keep his goddamn mouth shut and just listen to… Oh who the fuck am I kidding. Harry, listening to an authority figure? His homework scores for the past two years were enough for me to throw that to the side.

“Mister Potter,” he turned to look at me, “Harry. Per clause seventeen of the Gringotts-Founders Compact of 908, and per the Wizarding Inheritance Codex, ratified in 1462 under the Ministry’s Department of Magical Lineage, you are entitled - upon reaching magical majority or being declared Lord of your House, which will be discussed today - to a full briefing on the status of your estate.”

He took a breath.

“As the sole surviving member of the Potter Line, your claim is uncontested. As such, I, Ironquill, Gringotts Solicitor, do hereby provide you with an official estate briefing under sealed Ledger.” With that, he opened the large ledger and turned it towards me as he slid it across the table closer to me.

Once the ledger opened up fully I was greeted with a large list of lightly glowing, almost runic words that were labeled under different sections.

POTTER FAMILY ESTATE
[Vaults & Liquid Assets]

• Vault 687: Personal Vault (Harry J. Potter)

• Vault 427: Main Potter Vault

• Cold Coins (Exotic Asset Tag)

[Financial Instruments]

• Wizarding Bank Bonds (WBBs)

• Agriculture & Potion Ingredient Farms

• Potions Research Investment Trust (PRIT)

• Wandlore Development Share

[Property Holdings]

• Godric’s Hollow

• Foxglove Estate

• Rowanrise Townhome

• Tintagel (flagged as anomaly)

[Agriculture Assets]

• Farms & Saint Mungos Supply Contracts

My eyes widened a little at all the information presented to me. I had no clue where to start, or how to even read this. And yet I was even more surprised when I opened my mouth to ask Ironquill and a voice spoke from the pages of the ledger.

“Touch a section to expand information. Your authorization has been recognized, Lord Harry J. Potter.”

I stared down at the list silently before reaching out to press my finger to [VAULT 427] before the page magically shifted right before my eyes.

VAULT 427
Vault Designation: 427-P
Vault Class: High Security — Ancestral Lineage
Vault Access: Lord of House “Potter” or Authorized Proxy
Last Verified Audit: 1992.07.31
Conducted By: Varnack, Senior Vaultmaster (Lineage Division)
Current Account Manager: Ironquill, Vaultmaster

Liquid Assets:

Total Galleon Reserve: 2,650,000 Galleons (approx.)

Stacked Bullion (Goblin-forged ingots): 14 bars, stored in stasis hex fields

Foreign Currency Lockbox:

• 5,000 Dragots (French Ministry Certified)

• 2,200 Nibs (Nordic Magical Bank)

• 1,750 Stones (Old Albion currency - defunct. Now a collector’s market.)

Unspent Ministry War Bonds:

• Value: ~120,000 Galleons

• Issued: 1970-1981, Great Wizarding War

• Status: Collectible & interest-accruing

“Your grandfather acquired a lot of these assets at the war’s outset.” Ironquill spoke up as I looked over the ledger. “Mister Fleamont always said “If a war costs blood, it better pay gold.” I like to believe he had the right idea.”

I tried not to think about how casually Ironquill could speak of war — but at the same time I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t his war. No point giving a shit about a bunch of Wizards killing each other when you’ve been trampled by them every day.

So in any case—I left it. Choosing to stay silent as the ledger returned back to its original page, allowing me to choose the [POTIONS RESEARCH INVESTMENT TRUST] next. After all, why not choose something with the most interesting name?

POTIONS RESEARCH INVESTMENT TRUST (PRIT)
Investment Type: Silent Partner Stake - Private Magical Enterprise
Initial Investment: 42,000 Galleons (1979)
Current Valuation: 84,600 Galleons
Growth Rate: 3.6% annual average return
Status: Stable
Risk Profile: Low-Medium (Research-based enterprise)

Trust Profile:

PRIT is a privately managed cooperative focused on researching ethically sourced alternatives to traditionally restricted, dangerous, or even Dark-aligned potion ingredients.

Founded in 1975 by several former St. Mungo’s researchers and dropouts from the Healer Guild, the Trust focuses on:

• Synthetic or magical substitutes for ingredients like acromantula venom, murtlap brain, phoenix ash, etc.

• Sustainable cultivation of endangered plants

• Cross-species compatibility for non-human potion efficacy

The trust operations with Ministry sanction, but without heavy oversight. Allowing for innovation within safety bounds.

Performance Overview:

• Decade-Long Yield Average: 3.6%

• Dividends Collected (since 1981): Held in escrow until Heir Majority

• Magical Patient Holdings: 4 (3 healing, 1 alchemical filtration)

• Potion Contracts: Recently expanded to a supply deal with the Magical Accidents & Catastrophes Department

Authorized by Lily J. Evans, April 2nd, 1979
Filed under Potter-Family Investment Authority
Tagged “For Future Healing & Ethical Alchemy Development”

A side-scrollable annotation appeared as I got down to the bottom — a glowing ink sigil of my mother’s— of Lily’s wand stroke confirming the authorization charm.

My fingers gently traced the glowing sigil with a minor tremble. It was difficult for me to keep the tears contained — this was the closest I had gotten to my mother— to Lily. To Harry’s mother. Not mine.

But also mine. My mother. Lily J. Evans. My mother.

“Your mother invested after passing her Potions NEWT, Lord Potter.” Ironquill’s broke through the haze again, causing me to turn and look at him. “This sort of long-view compassion isn’t common in our ledgers. But it’s… Noted.”

I could’ve sworn I saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes. Just for a moment. And then it was gone.

My hand trembled over her wand stroke for a moment longer before I let out a soft breath and nodded. “I understand.” As I turned back to the ledger in front of me. “Is there a way to get a portable version of this? Something I could view on my own time?”

Ironquill stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking up, “of course, Lord Potter. I’ll have it prepared along with your signet rings. I assume you’ll want the standard enchantments?”

“Could we go over what the options are? For the enchantments, I mean.”

“We may.” Ironquill snaps his fingers as a piece of parchment appears in front of me, listing off various enchantments.

Gringotts Lordship Signet Ring Enchantment Services

Your House. Your Magic. Bound in Gold.
Provided by: Vaultcraft Division, Gringotts
Available To: Verified Lords/Ladies of Recognized Houses
Cost Tier: Ranges from Standard (included with Lordship claim) to Bespoke (5,000+ Galleons and rituals)

“Standard Package” Enchantments

Blood-Bound Identity Seal — The ring binds to the wearer’s blood and magic. Can not be worn or removed by another.

Magical Crest Projection — Allows projection of the House crest as a magical sigil. Useful for sealing letters, contracts, or activating wards.

Vault Access Authorization — Acts as a physical key and magical signature for all House-linked vaults within Gringotts.

Warding Token — Provides passive protection against low-grade hexes, tracking charms, and possession spells.

Emergency Pulse Beacon — Can emit a short-range magical pulse detectable by Goblin ward monitors or designated allies.

House Magic Link — Attunable to ancestral ward structures and property wards.

Spell Reservoir — Store up to five (5) spells for easy access.

I looked over the standard enchantments, my eyebrow slowly raising at some of the options. Passive protection against low-grade hexes? Sure it wasn’t going to protect against a Death Eater trying to blow up my rib cage but damn if that wasn’t mildly useful.

“Is it possible to upgrade the rings later? Say I want to go with the standard package for now, and then add more enchantments later down the line as necessary?”

“Of course, Lord Potter.” Ironquill said as he put his hands on the table. “We can even do custom enchantments, within reason. Should you have anything specific in mind when the situation calls for it.”

I gave a silent nod as I chewed on everything he’d given me so far. But I knew there’d be more. More parchment, more records, more remnants of people I’d never get to speak to again. I took a soft breath to try and ground myself again.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Are there any wills or testaments that need to be read off? Like my parents?”

Ironquill snaps his fingers and the ledger disappears, before three sets of parchment appear on the table in its place, nearly arranged and folded. “Of course. As is tradition within noble families, Gringotts holds bound copies of all registered Wills and Testaments. These are protected under Gringotts Legacy and Inheritance Clause, as well as Ministry Edict 179-A, pertaining to noble estate preservation.”

God there was so fucking much to learn. I needed an actual lawyer to handle this for me or I’d end up in a damn psych ward by the end of the week.

“Now, these two.” He gestures to two sheets of paper that float to lay on top of one another. “Are your mother and father’s wills. There are explicit instructions for them to only be read by you in private. If you’d like, I will leave you alone to read them, or you may read them later in your own time.”

I stare at the wills for a moment, before I gently grab them and place them off to the side. I allow my fingers to lightly brush against their names set nearly in the middle for just a moment before I turn back to Ironquill silently.

“Very well. This,” he gestures to another piece of paper, “is quite the oddity.” He snaps his finger and it floats in the air before him as he continues speaking. “This is a will from one Sirius Orion Black, known murderer and Azkaban prisoner. Addressed to you. Perhaps as a form of final gloating.” A toothy grin slowly crosses his face. “But considering recent developments—perhaps not.”

He looked at me, those black obsidian eyes boring into my soul as he let the silence settle uncomfortably before speaking again. “That being said, this will is enchanted and bound by the Black family magic. Even bears its seal. It can only be opened in the presence of the Heir to House Black.” There wasn’t a question attached to anything he said. Just provocation about a test I’d already passed.

Which is why when the paper floated over towards me, I kept eye contact with Ironquill. Not breaking away nor showing any real emotion as the will settled down in front of me as the seal popped open.

The grin remained on his face as he slowly leaned back in his seat, intertwining his fingers just over his chest as a voice broke out from the parchment.

“HARRY! If you’re hearing this, no I’m not haunting you, but I definitely reserve the right to! I’m leaving everything to you, kiddo. Grimmauld Place, my old home. The Black Family Library inside of it. Even Kreacher- Merlin, sorry about that one.” I swear, I could hear him flinching at the idea through the projection. 

“But most importantly, I name you my Heir. If we survive this blasted war, then I want you to take over the Black Family for me. Fix it, destroy it, burn everything down and build something new in its place. Do whatever you feel is necessary. Just make sure you share a drink with me on your 21st, assuming I’m dead. Or don’t wait. I won’t judge you. James did worse.”

The voice trailed off towards the end and then went completely silent, leaving both Ironquill and I to stare at the will of Sirius Black in the shared silence of the solicitor’s office. I hadn’t realized I was clenching my jaw until it began to ache, and it felt like my teeth would snap.

He really thought we’d survive. I guess we did.

But maybe we didn’t. Not really.

“That’s that.” He finally said with a grin like a guillotine blade. “Congratulations are in official order then, Mister Potter. Or should I say Lord Black.”

As much as I actually had started to appreciate how Ironquill handled this matter, I was slowly gaining the urge to strangle the short little fucker.

Which is why I returned his smirk with a smile of my own. “Of course. Now, shall we discuss properties for purchase?” I had Grimmauld place now—but I needed a place that I could use publicly. Somewhere Sirius could heal after I found him.

“Do lets.” The main estate ledger slowly floated away from me as another ledger appeared in front of him. “I do hope you’ll find our selection adequate. Lord Black.”

This was going to be a long goddamn day. And the only comfort I could find was the warm feeling beneath my hand as it gently lingered on my chest—right where the family magics had marked me.

Where my family’s magics had marked me.

Chapter Text

THE BURN OF BIRCH HOLLOW

(Somewhere in Wales, Winter, 1980)

An eerie silence hung in the air like a noose waiting to tighten. The oily sky cast a dark shadow over the suburban environment like a thick backdrop that only seemed to add to the tension the team felt as they moved smoothly across the street and up the lawn. The snow lightly crunching beneath their boots.

Silent hand motions indicated different members to their positions, finding vantage points at the entry ways and defending the escape routes. Three people prepared at the front door. A wand raised towards the wood as a silent spell crawled up the wizard’s throat.

…

BOOM!!

The door exploded outwards violently, splinters punching into the nearest wizard like makeshift daggers. The other two mages were quick enough to throw a shield spell in front of themselves, blocking the shrapnel even as their comrade fell to the ground choking on his own blood and gasping for air.

⮞ MINISTRY FIELD REPORT — BURCH HOLLOW ENGAGEMENT ⮜  

[0130 HRS] — Assault Unit STRIKE-1 initiated contact with primary structure.  

[0130 HRS] — STRIKE-1 sustained critical casualty; evac completed by STRIKE 1-9.  

[0131 HRS] — Coordinated breach executed at Front Entry (STRIKE-1) and Rear Entry (STRIKE-2) positions.

A fourth member scurried over and grabbed the wounded mage by his collar and dragged him away from the blood-soaked porch as a fifth replaced him, immediately casting a nasty looking spell through the doorway. The faint crunch and thud indicating it had found its intended target.

“Go go! Breach!”

Spellfire rained down like hellfire through the doorway from several different angles. Blues, greens, reds, violets. There was no time to identify which spell was what, nor where it came from. The only response was a barrage of your own and hoping you hit something.

“Push through the funnel!” Another explosion rocks the house but this time deeper in. The backdoor had been exploded open and the dark suburbia became a violent orchestra of rainbow warfare and furniture shattering as they were used for protection.

Both teams tried to push into the house but the assaults were too heavy and no progress could be made. The vests they wore to protect against spells weren’t going to last against coordinated hexes and curses. “Send them in now! Activate Sigil Team!”

Heavy, metallic footsteps stomped across the snow covered lawn and towards the front door without a care for the nightmare of spells coming through.

“Back! Back!” The assault team pulled away from the door under cover of their own attacks and shields as a titanic figure stomped through the doorway.

The spellfire paused for barely a breath before a harsh scream echoed through the dark night. “JUDICATORS!” Then it resumed with prejudice. Spells exploded and splashed against the runic armor covering the Judicator as it moved forward and grabbed the nearest wizard by the throat.

⮞ MINISTRY REPORT - BURCH HOLLOW RAID ⮜

[0132 HRS] — ENFORCER 0-1 “PREACHER” breached primary threshold.  

[0133 HRS] — Subject J. Fletchling — STATUS: PACIFIED [FATAL]  

[0133 HRS] — Artifact Reclamation: WAND CORE NEUTRALIZED — [CONFIRMED]

Crunch.

The body dropped to the floor with a brutal thud. Its neck twisted with a mix of black and blue hues as their snapped wand rolled across the floor in two pieces.

The Judicator stepped over the body with a cold indifference, arm raised as it cast a disintegration hex at the next suspect, hitting them square in the sternum. Blood pooling to the ground as it cuts through the outer layer of clothing and then the bone beneath.

A second figure, this one shorter and leaner than the first, stepped through the doorway after it. Ducking and weaving beneath the spellfire as a blade stuck out from its wrist as it ran towards the other side of the house.

⮞ MINISTRY REPORT - BURCH HOLLOW RAID ⮜

[0133 HRS] — SEEKER 3-2 “DOGMA” engaged multiple targets — 2x PACIFIED [FATAL]  

[0133 HRS] — STRIKE-2 breach successful — minor injuries reported.  

[0134 HRS] — SANCTUM stabilized wounded.

A scream was buried beneath the chaos as one mage took an exploding hex to their leg, blowing away the meat beneath the knee. They steadied themselves against the nearest wall and quickly cast charms to cauterize the wound as their team pushed past them and into the safehouse. “Medi-Mage! Get Corrathin!” Even as the blood had already soaked the floorboards.

Ears rang from the endless barrage of explosive ordnance thrown at the hulking figure as it bore down another mage and kicked them into a nearby wall. A hole was left in the brick as they slumped down to the ground, blood pooling beneath their feet.

“FOR THE DARK LORD!”

A single voice screamed out as one wizard rushed forward and tackled the hulking beast right as an explosion ripped through their body. Both the wizard and “PREACHER” exploded in a violent and gory mess that splattered across the walls like a thick coating of paint.

⮞ MINISTRY REPORT - BURCH HOLLOW RAID ⮜

[0136 HRS] — Subject T. Canis — STATUS: PACIFIED [FATAL]  

[0136 HRS] — Subject O. Hazel — STATUS: SELF-INFLICTED HEX (BLIGHT) [FATAL]  

[0136 HRS] — ENFORCER 0-1 “PREACHER” — STATUS: DECOMMISSIONED

The shockwave of the explosion rushed through the house like an angry wraith, nearly knocking two wizards off their feet. They barely had time to react before the blood soaked room began to fill with a sickly green gas.

“BLIGHT! BLIGHT! MASKS!” One screamed out as loudly as they could, fumbling for the mask on their waist. Their comrade hadn’t been so quick to react and his skin began to blister then bubble as the noxious curse dug into his skin and bones. Blood poured from his mouth as his eyeballs became a deep crimson.

A thud fills the room as he falls to his knees and then faceplants into the floor. He had died standing.

⮞ MINISTRY REPORT - BURCH HOLLOW RAID ⮜

[0136 HRS] — AUROR R. Wolf — STATUS: DECEASED

The rest of the safehouse fell quickly after that.

Seeker 3-2 “DOGMA” dove forward into the nearest Death Eater, digging the blade into their stomach to gut them. Driving upwards through the lungs and ribs, then out through the collarbone. Screams filled its sensors but it ignored them as it slashed through the throat to expose bone and muscle. Blood coating its armor plating like camouflage.

⮞ MINISTRY REPORT - BURCH HOLLOW RAID ⮜

[0136 HRS] — Subject L. Everglade — STATUS: PACIFIED [FATAL]

Two remained. They quickly threw down their wands and began pleading for their lives. Two grown adults had been reduced to nothing but whimpering children with the sight of the carnage that had been brought down upon them. As if the Grim Reaper had kicked in their door with the sole intention of brutalizing everything inside just for the sick, twisted pleasure of mutilating warm bodies into bloodied shreds.

Two Aurors worked to contain the blight as a third quickly sent word back to Command for a DECON Team.

“Bigsly, Herdrow, get on the street! Now! We need to set up a containment five kilometers on all sides until the obliviators get here! Get Echo Team and get it done!”

The rest of the night was silent and calm. Peaceful. In the muggle world, there would be no news of this incident. None of them would know they had been inches from one of the deadliest raids in the Great Wizarding War.

And in the Daily Prophet? There was a short blurb of a successful capture regarding two Death Eaters on the ninth page. Commendations for the survivors, payments for the families of the deceased. Barely a footnote for anyone who hadn’t been there.

Just another battle lost to history for all, except those too scarred to forget.

Chapter Text

(London, Present Day - The Ministry of Magic)

My body twisted and turned before I appeared in the warm, golden flames. My body quickly adjusted to Floo Travel as I stepped out onto the black, polished floor and watched as golden fireplaces spat out robed figures in rapid succession. 

Every movement was orderly, controlled. Wizards bustled back and forth with a quiet urgency that showcased a machine made of people. Of parchment and protocols.

I turned to look at the atrium, at the heart of the Ministry. It was vast. Cathedral-like. The enchanted ceiling overhead mirrored a cloudy sky. The filtered glow of golden torches and the soft emerald bleam of the giant Floo Network Hearths were the primary sources of light. Framed by ornate runes and enchanted brass.

In the middle of the atrium was where I had expected the foundation. Instead, I saw something different.

A sculpture built of obsidian and silver. Of a wand, a sword, a scale, all crossed beneath the winged outline of a Phoenix who hung above it all like a silent protector. The plaque beneath read:

“To Those Who Stood Against The Darkness.”

“To Those Who Still Do.”

My eyes caught on the rows of etched names at the base of the sculpture. Some were freshly inscribed into glass-like obsidian. Others were nearly worn smooth.

While I was caught staring at it, everyone else passed by without even sparing a glance. They had seen it day in, day out. Whereas I was finally getting a glimpse into what really hid beneath the surface of the Ministry. Beneath the spine of Magical Britain.

A cool breeze swept from the fireplace behind me and I instinctively moved to one side as a wizard brushed past me with a curt nod. I barely spared him a glance before I turned back towards the atrium. I could see the security mages watching me with a cold indifference.

I took a breath. 

In, then out. 

Before allowing my feet to carry me forward until I stopped in front of the nearest security wizard. “Excuse me, officer. Could you point me towards the library?” I asked politely.

The wizard looked at me for a moment, his gaze raked over my polished and clean robes before locking eyes with me again. Then to the scar on my forehead, just beneath the hair. “Down that corridor,” he pointed smoothly, “till you reach the lift. Take it to the second floor, then down to the right three doors.” He paused, watching me. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I shook my head and gave him a warm smile. “No, thank you so much for the help.” I didn’t wait for a response as I gave him space and moved past him towards the elevator. I kept my eyes forward as I glided elegantly across the floor. Doing my best to at least look like a Lord, and not like a man pretending to know what he was doing.

Which was a lot harder than you’d think. I mean, was I supposed to stick my nose in Fudge’s ass the moment I met him? Or did I have to shake his hand first? Maybe I’d ask Lucius for tips if I ever saw him.

I stepped onto the lift and pressed the button for the second floor. It didn’t take long for me to reach my destination and then I was off towards the library. Though my steps faltered after a few seconds as I saw her - Amelia Bones, the Director of the DMLE - standing there and talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

She stood taller than me unexpectedly, just shy of six feet (1.78m), and every inch of her felt intentional. Thick thighs beneath charcoal slacks, hips that swayed with a quiet confidence, and the kind of full, high-set bust that naturally dragged your eyes without your permission. But what stood out the most wasn't the mature curves — but instead how disciplined she looked.

Her posture was lethal. Military straight, chin raised, silver rimmed glasses catching the light. Elegant came to mind.

It took me a moment to shake away the perverted thoughts in my head, and instead focus on the opportunity presented to me so perfectly. “... Hm.” I hummed softly. “This actually might be easier than anticipated.” As I made my way towards the director herself.

“Let the Prophet know. And see if you can’t get a meeting with Dumbledore so we can discuss security.” Amelia spoke in a firm, confident tone as she spoke to the looming figure of Kingsley. “I know Fudge will want the dementors but-” and then she noticed me, cutting herself off. 

“Harry Potter. What a pleasant surprise.” This drew Kingsley’s attention, as the large, stocky wizard turned to look at me.

I put on my most polite smile. “Madam Bones! It’s truly a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything important?” My eyes flicker between the two of them.

“No, you’re fine.” She replies with a wave of her hand before she turns back to Kingsley. “We’ll finalize the discussion later with Dumbledore.” There was a slight glow to her eyes when she said that. It made me wonder how much she really knew of The Order and their activities.

Kingsley gives her a nod and then turns to smile at me. “Mister Potter.” His smooth, deep voice easing any tension I held in my body before he turned and walked off further into the long corridor, leaving just me and Amelia.

She turns back to look at me, her hands resting on her hips. “Now then. Mister Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?” She spoke politely but there was a hint of curiosity beneath it all. Like she was wondering what would cause a Hogwarts student to be here, let alone suddenly approach her.

I bow my head slightly. “Madam Bones, I had an odd request, and hopefully if you’ll indulge me, I could make it worth your time.”

Her eyebrow raises slightly. “Go on.”

“I've recently taken up the mantle of the Lord of House Potter and it's come to my attention that I am woefully out of my depth with this entire thing. So I was hoping to come here and do some research on being a Lord in the Wizengamot.” I gesture down the hall towards the library. "And hopefully find someone who could be an appropriate solicitor."

Her lip barely quirks into an imperceptible smile. “Mister Potter, surely you aren’t asking me to be the solicitor of your estate and Lordship.”

I laughed gently, shaking my head. “I would never be so presumptuous, Madam. Even if you didn’t have your hands full with the DMLE, surely I should at least treat you to lunch before dropping something so heavy on your plate. No, thankfully. I’m actually wondering if you have any… Recommendations, I guess.”

Her head tilts slightly to the left as she listens. “A recommendation, hm? And why do you think I would be the best candidate for such a request?”

“Well, I know the Bones family holds some level of power in the Wizengamot.” I was about to continue before I stopped, taking a moment to think. I let out a soft breath. “And if I’m being honest, Madam, you’re possibly one of the only people in the Ministry that I know I can trust. That you won’t take advantage of me, and whoever you recommend would be well suited to my situation.”

She stays silent for several seconds as she processes everything I had said. “Mm.” A soft hum escaped her as she crossed her arms over her rather ample chest, lightly drumming her forearm with her fingers as she stared down at me with cold, grey eyes. “You mentioned making it worth my while?” She teased as her lips curled into a small smile.

I returned the smile with a grin of my own, looking up at her sheepishly as I rubbed the back of my head. “Truthfully Madam, I would’ve offered this even if you had said no or told me to go away. But I wanted to offer a sizable donation to the DMLE.”

“I know it won’t grant me any special privileges!” I said quickly as I saw her gaze harden slightly. “I promise, I’m not trying to dangle this over your head or ask for any favors. Well I technically am but only for the solicitor, I promise. And even if you don’t have anyone, the offer still stands. Like I said, I trust you. I appreciate the work you guys do here. I just want to help.” It took a lot of willpower to stop myself from rambling too long.

Her fingers slowly drummed her forearm for long enough that I was worried I might start sweating under that - admittedly hot but terrifyingly iron gaze of her.

“Okay.”

My eyes widened a little at her sudden response. “Okay? Uh- Great!” I laugh nervously.

Her smile widened slightly at my nervousness, her arms uncrossing as she put her hand on her hips again. “Hestia Jones is probably the best solicitor I know about. Plenty of experience and you might find that she has plenty of other skills that might come in handy for someone like you.”

She closed the distance between us, holding her hand out to me. “Thank you, Harry.”

I stare at her in confusion for a moment before grabbing her hand and shaking it. “For what, Madam?”

“For being sincere with me.” Her grip was firm but her hand was soft. “It’s rare in my line of work. And for allowing me the joy of seeing such a… Cute young man get nervous in my presence without them being a criminal.” Her smile turned into a slight grin. “If you're serious about the donation then we can discuss it in further detail in the future. Perhaps over that lunch you offered?”

My cheeks started to heat up as I stared up into her grey eyes and nodded. “I’d like that, Madam. I’m currently staying at the Leaky Cauldron but I should have a more… Permanent resident in the near future. But I’m sure your letters will reach me if you want to coordinate something.”

“I’m sure they will.” She says with a soft laugh as she watches my cheeks go a light tinge of red. “I’ll forward your details to Miss Jones and she’ll arrange a meeting. But be careful with her. She’s a firecracker. I’m sure you’ll love her.”

She takes a moment to look around the corridor before turning back to me. “Is there anything else I can help with, Mister Potter?”

I shake my head gently. “Not right now, Madam. And I’d hate to take up more of your time than necessary.”

“No worries. Your company is certainly more enjoyable than most of the people I spend time with in my day to day.” She chuckled softly as my cheeks only grew more red. “I’m looking forward to that lunch, Mister Potter. I hope you have a good rest of your morning.” Then she turned and walked down the hall and eventually out of sight.

And then suddenly, a new window appeared in front of me. And my blush only got worse.

🜲 [SOUL RESONANCE INITIATED] 🜲
Dominion Registry: NEW ENTRY CONFIRMED
The Draconic Hoard acknowledges a formative pact forged of respect, negotiation, and spark-tinged curiosity.

“Power respects power — but warmth is far rarer in cold stone halls.”

Partner Identified:
⚖️ Amelia Bones
✦ "The Iron Matron" — Disciplined, Honorable, Razor-Sharp

Connection Type:
Primary: Strategic Alliance
Secondary: Subtle Flirting / Muted Curiosity
Status: Active

🔸 RESONANCE REPORT 🔸

Current Resonance Strength: 14%

Shared Growth Channels (Affinity Siphon):
• Law & Bureaucracy — Procedural understanding, institutional respect.
• Mental Fortitude — Self-control, emotional mastery, authority.
• Warding — Exposure to structured defensive magic.
• Leadership — Command presence, moral authority.

Emotional Link: Respectful Interest
↳ “Professional rapport with budding personal curiosity. Potential exists, but must grow naturally.”

Synergy Potential:
🜲 Moderate. Substantial growth possible with emotional vulnerability or shared political ambition.

Dominion Effect:
🜲 “Steward's Favor” — Gain temporary advantage in Ministry-based bureaucratic negotiations.
(+5 persuasion with authority figures or legal personnel for 48 hours after interaction. Stackable with charm-based effects.)

✨ UNIQUE TRAIT UNLOCKED ✨
[Seal of Accord]
When entering pacts, negotiations, or resource-sharing with someone in your Hoard, you may mark the deal with a magical Accord Sigil.

• Ensures fair binding

• Increases magical clarity

• Slightly boosts mutual affinity gain

🜲 SYSTEM ADVISORY 🜲
This bond is built not on fire, but on stone laid with intention. Should it grow, it will become one of your most durable and powerful ties.

“Some Dragons hoard gold. Others hoard trust. The wise learn the value of both.”

As if I needed another reason to be nervous around her. Fucking Daedalus had to go ahead and confirm that she was flirting with me!

Don’t get me wrong she was… Very attractive but that didn’t mean I knew what the hell I was doing here. I came to grab some damn books and now I was talking about scheduling a lunch with the Director of Britain’s Law Enforcement!!

Holy fuck I was so screwed. In probably one of the best ways possible.

I quickly shook my head to get my thoughts back together, nearly sprinting towards the library now. Sure I had gotten a solicitor recommendation from Amelia but I still needed books to learn how all of this worked. And it might give my solicitor a better opinion of me if I wasn’t acting like a drooling, brain dead moron the entire time.

God I hoped it would help.

“Hey uh… Daedalus?” I muttered beneath my breath.

“Yes, Sovereign?” Daedalus answered smoothly.

God I’ll never get used to that. “I need some book suggestions if that’s something you can do. Politics, maybe anything remotely useful in terms of magic, uh- Yeah. Just anything useful.”

“Understood. Here’s a list of books you might find useful.”

A window appeared before me, outlining a list of various books.

Aegis & Arcana
Official DMLE Training Manual for New Recruits

Runes & Resonance
Breaking down rune structure and how layered meaning affects ward behavior

Magical Estate Management: Gringotts & Beyond
For when vault keys come with land deeds and generational headaches

Bloodlines & Birthright: Ritual Magic Among the Ancient Houses
Pureblood propaganda-laced but still informative on family magics, crests, and oaths

Theory of Thaumaturgy, Vol I - Magical Affinity & Internal Channels
A must have for understanding magical cores and how they interact with affinity development

Lord by Law: The Modern Peerage of Magical Britain
Reference for titles, inheritance law, political powers, and the rights of Lords & Ladies under the Wizengamot Charter

The Lady’s Lexicon: Courtship, Marriage, and Magical Law
Understanding how marriage works for Lords or Ladies and the laws surrounding them

I was seriously going to fucking strangle Daedalus HOLY FUCK! WHY ARE YOU RECOMMENDING A MARRIAGE BOOK YOU FUC- … No. Wait.

“Dae. Show me Amelia’s resonance window again.” As the window magically appeared before me. I scoured every inch of it before my eyes landed on the specific part I had suddenly remembered after the “Lady’s Lexicon” book recommendation.

• Law & Bureaucracy — Procedural understanding, institutional respect.
• Mental Fortitude — Self-control, emotional mastery, authority.
• Warding — Exposure to structured defensive magic.
• Leadership — Command presence, moral authority.

Her affinities.

“Dae." I nearly grimaced at how weird the nickname felt coming from my lips. "Why did I gain affinities for Law, Leadership, and Mental Fortitude? I thought the affinities were meant to be magical in nature?”

“I only stated that there are nearly a dozen mainline affinities, and several dozen sub affinities.“ Daedalus said in an almost bored tone. “If you count non-magical affinities, that number grows significantly higher.”

…

“Okay. And how exactly does that even work from a logical standpoint?” I hissed from my quiet corner in the library at the screen. “The mental fortitude I get, but what the fuck do you mean a 3% affinity for Leadership!”

“Non-Magical Affinities don't affect your spells. They affect you.”

Sigils appeared in my vision, overlaying the world in front of me. I could make out the familiar shapes of my magical affinities before they were replaced by new shapes. A crown, a scale, a castle tower — all of them linking back to me through small, silvery strands.

“They shape how you think, plan, perceive. Your instincts and insight. You don't cast Law spells—you navigate it. At 10% you'll fumble through court like a bumbling idiot. At 70%, you'll bury your enemies in red tape without breaking a sweat.”

I watched as the scale glowed dimly and then brightly. A vision of Fudge being silently brow beaten by a lawyer who's face was hidden while Umbridge stood nearby, face like a tomato. But it was quickly replaced by a vision of Dumbledore standing at the head of an army Aurors.

“The same goes for things like Politics, Leadership, even Strategy. Domains with real depth. No one has affinities for breathing or walking.”

The visions disappeared and the shelves of the ministry library returned to view. I mulled it all over, letting the rusty gears in my decrepit skull try to put it all together. “... Okay yeah. That makes sense. So someone like Amelia reached her position because she’s either naturally good at figuring out the law, or she learned through effort.”

Honestly it made more sense the longer I thought about it. My mother was supposedly great with potions. Hell Snape even wrote his own damn edits of the original books! Which meant they had an innate affinity for potions. So why couldn’t someone have an innate affinity for non-magical stuff too?

…

"Are affinities passed down genetically?”

Daedalus took a moment before he answered. “To a point, yes.”

“That would explain a lot, actually. Yeah.” I suddenly thought back to how Ginny gave me martial magic for her affinities and I felt a cold shiver slice through my spine. I could only imagine what sort of affinity her own mother had to kill Bellatrix in the seventh book.

Gods help me.

“Thank you.” I said almost on instinct as I turned from the screen and began wandering through the library to try and find all the books it recommended to me. Of course when it came to the “Lady’s Lexicon” I could only stare at it in dead silence before grabbing it. Ignoring how my neck felt hot as I tried to tuck it away beneath the rest so I didn’t have to think about it.

A quick trip through the librarian, who gave me a playful smile at the lexicon, and then I was out of the library and shuffling my way towards the lift quickly. I needed to get the fuck out of here before more shit happened that I didn’t wanna deal with.

“Mister Potter.”

Oh my fucking—

The voice stopped me in my tracks. Smooth, deep, and refined. Like an antique blade neatly sharpened. And I’d know it anywhere.

I turned on my heel to find Lucius Malfoy standing beneath one of the chandelier-lit arches, can in hand and barely tucking his disdain behind a tight smile. But then my eyes were drawn to his side, where Narcissa Malfoy stood like a diamond mounted on tarnished gold. Regal didn't begin to cover it. She was high-society sensuality weaponized. And it explained far too much about what kind of power couple these two were.

Blonde hair flowing down her back like moonlit silk, and a figure that reminded me of old paintings — hourglass curves swathed in layered elegance, every inch tailored to hint without exposing. Her breasts weren't oversized, but they sat liked they'd been sculpted. Perfect and proud.

If Amelia had presence then Narcissa had gravity. The kind that pulled your attention, and then punished you for having the audacity. A real trophy wife for the scum fuck next to her, I couldn't help but think.

“I’d heard you were skulking about the Ministry today.” Lucius said mildly, the smile turning into a slight sneer. “And here I found myself wondering if Hogwarts had finally run out of hall monitors, so they sent you here for babysitting.”

I returned his smile - much more politely than his, but we both knew it was for show. “Just doing my civic duty, Lord Malfoy.” Using his correct title to show I knew the etiquette of someone in my station. “Managing estates, filling out forms. Talking to Amelia Bones.”

His eyes just barely flashed at the mention of the Iron Matron that held her position in a steel grip. Narcissa, on the other hand, tilted her head curiously. Her eyes gaining a sliver of life that I hadn't noticed was missing before.

“How… Responsible for you. Lord Potter.” A small smirk crossed her lips as she stepped forward slightly, her eyes flicking down to the Lordship ring on my hand. “It’s so rare to see a young heir take his House so seriously. Rarer still to see one who walks through the Ministry unescorted. Especially someone of your history.”

“I don’t mind a little danger, Lady Malfoy.” I replied coolly. “It builds character.”

“Mm. So I’ve found.” She smiled faintly. “Perhaps we’ll be seeing more of each other then, if you intend to take this newfound… Responsibility seriously, that is.” Then she turned back to Lucius and grabbed his arm gently. “Come now, darling. We’ll be late for lunch with the Notts.”

Lucius stared at me for a brief moment before nodding. “Of course, dear.” He turned to look at his wife with a smile before they both walked off further into the corridor. “Oh, and Harry.” He called over his shoulder, “do let Dumbledore know I said hello the next time you see him.”

And then they were gone. Then a new window appeared.

🜲 [SOUL RESONANCE: PASSIVE PULSE DETECTED] 🜲
Dominion Registry: NEW ENTRY CONFIRMED
The Draconic Hoard acknowledges a highborn eye lingers. Whether in curiosity, caution, or something else remains unseen.

“Even the most gilded chains may long to break, if only the right hand dares to reach..”

Partner Identified:
👑 Narcissa Malfoy (née Black)
✦ "The Gilded Chain" — Elegant, Bound, Observant

Connection Type:
Primary: Passive Familial Bond (Black Line)
Secondary: Political Interest (Dormant)
Status: Active

🔸 RESONANCE REPORT 🔸

Current Resonance Strength: 4%

Shared Growth Channels (Affinity Siphon):
• Dark Arts — Inherited intuition, passive exposure to ancient Black Family magics.
• Social Insight — Perception of hidden motives, mastery of noble etiquette and subtext.
• Charms — Refined magical control, subtle aesthetic precision.

Emotional Link: Dormant
↳ “Not yet personal… But curiosity is a door left ajar.”

Synergy Potential:
🜲 Unknown — True alignment hidden beneath veils of secrecy.

Dominion Effect:
🜲 “The Gaze of the Matron” — Certain noble figures may begin watching your movements more closely. Some will be wary. Others… Intrigued.

🜲 SYSTEM ADVISORY 🜲
Though no words of allegiance were spoken, a tether has formed.
Dominion draws more than allies — it draws attention.

“Even from behind masks and manners, the heart sees what the blood remembers.”

I just stared at the window for a total of ten seconds before turning right around silently and heading for the lift.

Frankly? I’d deal with it tomorrow. I needed a nap and some hot food. Not to try and dissect why the hell Narcissa Malfoy, mother of my sworn arch-enemy even remotely likes me.

I wasn't equipped to deal with aristocratic MILFs and powerful seductresses. Not after the day I had.

Chapter Text

(Azkaban, The North Sea)

Footsteps. Smells. Voices. Voices.

It recognized voices. That meant it had to go back. It had to change. It would be bad if it didn’t. Why? Why? Why? It didn’t know. It just did it.

Cold. So cold. It shivered.

Scraggly hair, barely more than bones. It hated this. It hated becoming this.

The voices got closer, and closer.

They stopped outside of the cell.

“Keeping out of trouble, eh, Black?” Fudge spoke with a cold humor in his voice.

Twitch. It curled up into the corner a little more.

“Good.” Fudge flipped through the newspaper for a moment before looking back into the barren, stone laden cell. “Here.” He tossed the newspaper through the bars, letting it land at his feet. “Something to read.”

Slow breath in. Slow breath out. Don’t change. Just wait.

It barely looked towards the bars—never the men—just the cold iron. They watched for a moment before moving on, satisfied with the state of it.

Eyes landed on the newspaper. It was about to change again when something stood out. It crawled forward slowly and grabbed the paper in shaking hands.

WEASLEY FAMILY WINS 1,000 GALLEON JACKPOT!

The headline didn’t matter.

It stared at the picture below it. At the half dozen men all huddled together smiling for the camera.

A snarl escaped its throat as it stared at one man in particular. And the rat clutched in his hands.

PETTIGREW!!!

It took everything in its power not to snarl and snap at the paper, as if it could reach through the picture and grab the LITTLE BASTARD TRAITOR DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

“Padfoot, come here! Come meet little Harry!”

It twisted in place, looking around the cell for the source of the voice. Looking for him. For James.

A baby giggled and reached out to touch his muzzle.

It whimpered and curled back into the corner, trying to escape the hands. So many hands. So cold. So dark.

Black, matted fur. Warm. Warmth. No longer cold. It was warm again.

It looked back over to the newspaper and growled lowly beneath its throat. Then it looked towards the bars again. It watched as the rain slammed into the weathered stone like sledgehammers.

“Padfoot, I want you to be our secret keeper.”

“No, Prongs. … It should be Wormtail. They’d never suspect him. They’ll come for me as soon as they can. You know I’d never break but we need to make sure you guys are safe.”

Gentle, small hands reached for him again as a baby giggled happily.

It stepped on the newspaper, claws digging into the rat’s form and ripping through the paper.

It walked up to the bars and slowly slipped through. Hungry. Harry. PETTIGREW!

Slow, soft footsteps carried it away from the cell and further through the stone halls. It just needed to find its opportunity.

The rattling of chains stopped it in its path as it stared ahead at the floating figure slowly moving towards him. It stood incredibly still as its hair raised on all ends, ready to run if needed.

Blood.

Its eyes turned to the nearby cell as it watched a figure slowly crawl towards the bars. Their arms bloody and raw from all the abuse and they pressed their face against the bars. A lopsided, delirious grin on their face.

“It’s time.” They mutter. It backs away slowly.

The figure grows closer but seems to ignore it, instead turning to the cell and looking down at the bloodied man. A single, bony hand reaches down and grabs them by their chin, slowly raising them up as its hood lowered down.

“It’s time!” The person said again as if they were celebrating their birthday.

It couldn’t look. It turned away and whimpered gently as it felt the chill bite down through its fur.

There is nothing except for the rattling sound of chains and the violent gasping of the prisoner. And then everything stops. Meat slumps to the ground and a wave of despair rolls down the corridor, causing its claws to dig into the stone as it tries not to lose itself again.

The chains rattle again and the chill grows closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Then further. Further. Moving away from it now.

Its teeth dig into its arm and it has to bite back a yelp at the pain. It could still feel. Good. It would be able to feel the RAT SQUIRMING IN ITS TEETH!

It moved quicker now, bolting down the corridor. It needed to move. Faster. Faster. Its tiny, malnourished body could only manage so much but it had to be enough. It had to get out of here.

An escape. The light of the sky creaked in just barely. It turned and bolted. It didn’t care, none of it mattered. It jumped. Falling. Falling. SPLASH.

Cold. Biting. Freezing.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

The baby’s giggle again as something small cuddled up against its body. Grabbing onto its fur as it fell asleep against him, like he was the comfiest pillow in the universe.

It would be enough.

It began to swim. Slowly treading through the water towards land.

It had to be enough.

The trip was long. It didn’t know how long. It didn’t even remember most of it. One moment it had been in the dark, cold sea and the next it was crawling up onto the shore.

The smell of food filled its nostrils and it couldn’t stop itself from moving towards it. It was so hungry. It needed energy if it was going to find him. To protect him. To KILL THE RAT.

It eventually found the source of the smell - a plate of meat that had been left alone as its occupant went - somewhere. It didn’t matter. Its jaws snapped and it grabbed the chunk of meat and then scurried off quickly.

A dark corner, just like the corner of its cell. Safety in the corner. Safety huddled away in the dark. It began to chew and growl hungrily as it feasted on the meat. Its first real meal in far too long. It imagined the chunk of meat like it was the rat instead. Tearing into warm bloody flesh and avenging his best friend.

Far too quickly, the meat was gone. But his belly was satiated for the time being.

It would be enough for him to find him. Find Harry. He needed to protect him. To warn him. And it would make sure the RAT DIED A HORRIFIC DEATH! SUFFERING LIKE HE SUFFERED FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS!!

It slowly moved off into the night as the remnants of the meat were licked from its chops or left on the ground to be feasted upon by any other animal that came by.

The darkness engulfed the emaciated form of the black dog as it prowled into the nearby bushes. On the hunt once more.

Chapter Text

I groaned softly as the sun made its way through the curtains and painted itself across my face. Turning and twisting in my bed as I buried my face into the soft pillow to try and escape the duties of my life. But this escape was short lasting as an annoyed chirp caused me to turn and look towards the table through bleary eyes.

I really needed to find a way to get rid of these goddamn glasses. Blood magic maybe? I’d look into it eventually.

In the meantime, I groggily reached for my glasses on the nearby dresser before looking at the table. “Hedwig?” I grumbled softly, assuming the chirp had come from her. My assumptions were proven correct only a moment later as my eyes focused on four letters stacked neatly atop the table, and my pretty owl sitting there. Obviously annoyed that she was having to wait for treats and pets.

“... Oh.” I slowly pushed myself out of bed and stumbled over to the table. “Hey there, pretty girl.” Gently scratching the top of her head and getting content chirps in return before she gently nipped my finger. “Thanks for these.” I gestured to the letters as I grabbed a treat to give her.

She took the treat and fluttered back over to her little perch to rest, seemingly content with ruining my sleep and then returning to hers.

I could only laugh before turning back to the letters in front of me. “Is this my life now? Just waking up to a fuck ton of letters?” I mumbled before remembering that I was Harry Potter, and I should count myself lucky that I wasn't drowning in fanmail twenty-four seven. Yeah, I'll take it back. This is fine.

“Your hoard seems to be growing rather quickly, young Sovereign.” Daedalus said with a smirk that I could almost picture in my head.

“You don’t say, Dae.” I responded to the window as I spread out the letters a little more. A quick count told me there were four in total, all of them on good quality parchment. But only one of them had a seal that I actually recognized. Madam Thyssa Greymatch, my realtor.

I stared silently for a moment before picking up the first. It smelled faintly of perfume - which only made me more concerned about what I might find inside it.

I cracked the seal and opened the letter and began reading.

Dear Mister Potter,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to recap our conversation from yesterday briefly and make sure you knew how to address letters to me in the future.

As discussed, I’ve provided your contact details to Miss Jones. I assume she’ll have sent you a letter that should reach you around the same time as mine. So if you’ve read her letter before mine, then at least spare me the embarrassment of telling me.

In any case, I do hope you find Miss Jones to your liking. I am being truthful when I say that she’s one of the best solicitors I’ve had the pleasure of working with, and she’s a —if you’ll pardon my language — damn fine Witch to boot. I’m sure you two will get along well.

Now if you’d ever like to indulge me, I would certainly like to extend the offer for lunch again. We may discuss your “assistance” to the DMLE and perhaps I can offer you some advice, or even help you connect with some personnel that might be able to help you with your future career ideas.

PS.

You blush far too easily. It’s quite charming.

Perhaps next time, we’ll have wine in a more classy establishment than the Ministry.

Till next time.

— A.B.

I could already feel my neck heating up halfway through the letter and then my cheeks joined suit near the end. Seriously, what was with this woman?? Was she trying to kill me?! … Okay maybe I’d let her. But that’s not the point.

I sighed and gently set the letter back down so I could respond to it once I had finished reading the rest. I’d rather not leave an offer like that hanging, after all.

The next letter snapped open easily enough as well.

Harry,

Meet me at Gringotts at 10:00AM.

If you’re smart, you’ll bring snacks.

If you’re lucky, I won’t tease you too much for being a clueless little Lordling.

See you soon. 🖤 

— H.J.

Well that was quick to the point at least. I’m not sure what she meant by snacks but I’m sure I could find something appreciable at least. Though I spared a glance at the clock, seeing I had plenty enough time to grab something and head over after a shower, thankfully. I could even write a response to Amelia before I left.

Now for Madam Thyssa’s letter. I already had a clue as to what she’d sent me but best to check anyways.

Mister Potter,

I’m glad you found a property that was to your liking. I had a feeling you’d pick that one in particular if I’m being honest.

My next available opening would be this coming Tuesday.

If this works for you, please let me know at your earliest convenience. Or if there’s a better day in mind.

Best wishes,

— Madam Thyssa Greymatch

Mistress Proprietor of Greymatch Estates

Tuesday huh? Yeah that would work. It’d give me three days to work on my other business needs and it’d certainly be a nice reprieve from it all. But that also meant I probably wouldn’t be able to meet up with Hermione or Ginny.

Fuck. I’ll manage, I guess. So that left me with two letters I had to respond to. Though my eyes turned to look at the last letter and my curiosity piqued even more. Who else would be writing to me?

I picked it up carefully and turned it over in my hands, curious to see if there was anything about it that I could recognize. But other than the seal on it, there was nothing. At least Amelia had put perfume on hers which made it a little easier to identify.

Maybe the contents would provide some clues? I wasn’t that confident, even as I opened the letter and read the contents.

Some things buried should not be forgotten. If you’re ready to dig, then feel free to reach out. Your owl should be capable of finding me.

— Your anonymous admirer

Yeah.

Yeah I should’ve expected that.

I sighed softly and rubbed my cheek as I set the letter back down onto the table. “Three letters to write then.” My eyes flicked over to the nearby clock. “I mean. I have time. But maybe I’ll just respond to Amelia’s and then head out. Leave the others for later.”

Yeah that seemed like a half decent plan. So I turned away from the table and grabbed some fresh clothes so I could take a shower and then sit down to write.

The shower was beautifully warm and sprayed my chest with a comforting pressure as it released a groan from my throat. “Gods.” I muttered beneath my breath as I turned now and then to let the water run down the rest of my body. Letting it release all of the stress over the past few days so I’d hopefully be ready for Hestia later.

Though I eventually grabbed the bar of soap and began to lather my body with it. The perfect opportunity to look down at myself and huff gently. I still needed to work on my figure some more. I almost wondered if I should ask Hestia whether she knew anything about potions that could help me. … Maybe Amelia.

I shook my head gently as I tried not to think about her right now. I’d just ask Hestia and then we see where it goes from there. She was going to be my solicitor so it only made sense that I should try and trust her with information like this. After all, if I can’t trust her to be discreet then I shouldn’t hire her at all.

My hands moved down my thin chest and then my stomach as I rubbed the soap into my skin and watched as the water washed it all away. Like I was washing away the memories and sins of what happened in the Chamber. I could still feel the blood soaking my robe sometimes, could almost see it staining the wet stone. My muscles and skin stitching itself back together under Snape’s careful wand work.

I flinched slightly and shook the thoughts away again. “Anything but that.” I muttered to myself in a totally healthy way. “Literally anything.”

My eyes closed and I pressed my head to the shower wall as I tried to relax more. Tried not to think about everything that happened. And then my mind began to wander. Back to how soft Amelia’s hand had felt in mine. The way she was able to look down at me with those steel grey eyes.

And then her hands were wrapping around my body and it was Amelia Bones scrubbing my body down with the soap. Her warm body pressed against my back, smashing those curvy breasts against me as she whispered softly into my ear.

“Keeping out of trouble, Potter?~” 

Her tone was light and playful. Teasing me as my back arched into her touch. I could still smell the perfume of the letter as her hands slowly trailed down my stomach. My cock twitched in anticipation as it began to slowly harden.

“Oh my. Is this for me?” Her hand gently grasped my growing length, using her thumb to rub across the skin and dragging a soft groan out of me. “You really are too easy, Harry~” Her breath ran down my neck as my hand gripped the tile wall as if I was trying to break it.

My cock was fully hard and throbbing as she slowly dragged her hand up and down my shaft. My brain filled with the image of her robes falling away. Soft, heavy tits and wide hips, everything I couldn’t stop imagining every time she looked down at me. I groaned softly at the idea of her kneeling in front of me, with her soft breasts wrapped around my cock.

She chuckled softly into my ear as her grip tightened ever so slightly. “Naughty boy~ You want me on my knees?~” Her lips nearly pressed against my neck as her other arm wrapped around my chest tightly, keeping me pressed to her. “Maybe if you’re good. Can you be good for me, Harry?”

My fingers tightened against the tile wall as a whimper raked its way through my throat against my will. Her hand moved smoothly along my shaft as she stroked my quicker. I could hear the grin in her voice. “Oooh. Did you like that? You wanna be a good boy for me?~”

I could feel my balls tightening and my cock throbbed aggressively, desperate for more. “Tsk tsk, not yet~” She gripped my cock tightly as she stopped stroking. I whimpered again.

“Please-” I finally spoke up even though I could barely manage a whisper. “Please let me cum-”

She hummed softly into my ear before starting to stroke once more, this time much faster than before as I choked out a moan. “Mm. Such a good boy for me. Cum for me, Harry~ I want you to paint my big, fat tits with your cum~”

I couldn’t resist. My cock throbbed and her name escaped my mouth, “Amelia!” as hot, thick ropes of cum shot out violently against the tile wall. Painting it with my seed as she milked my dry.

I don’t know how long my orgasm lasted but when I finally finished, I nearly collapsed against the wall. I looked over my shoulder and found I was all alone. Looking down, I found my own hand wrapped around my length, milking myself in the way I imagined Amelia.

A soft sigh escapes me as I try to relax and calm down from such a hot encounter - even if it was one supplied only by my brain.

Maybe I shouldn’t reply to her letter just yet. “I should go visit Hestia and give myself some time to cool down.” I rationalized as I slowly let go of my still throbbing cock. “... Merlin.” I muttered as I tried to finish my shower on slightly shaky legs.

The shower took a little longer than anticipated - partly because I needed to clean up again after my mind went… Wandering.

But I got cleaned up and dressed nicely. I gave one look to the letters on the table and shuddered before agreeing with my earlier thoughts about writing her back later. When I had time to cool down.

So I moved towards the door instead, heading off to my meeting with Hestia Jones. “What should I even get her? I refuse to get some candy. I’m not Ron, I have at least two brain cells in my head.” As I thought back to how both he and I- … Book Harry treated our dates to the dance. “I would’ve done better!” I huffed in annoyance at myself.

Daedalus growled in annoyance. “Anyone would’ve done better.” A small ounce of rage tainting his voice.

“... Yeah.” I sigh in agreement. “Yeah. In Harry’s defense at least, he wasn’t a super well adjusted kid. Ron was just… Ron.”

Hopefully I'll be able to do something about that. At the very least I could stop him from making a fool of himself.

Right?

Gods I hoped so. If I had to put up with a jealous Ron during the Triwizard Tournament, I’d explode an entire turkey I swear.

But enough bitching about Ron. I’ve been given a quest! To buy snacks for my future solicitor— … Why am I the one buying snacks? Wait, why am I even complaining? I’m apparently mega rich! It’s the principle that counts, I guess. You can't stay rich if you give all your money away after all. … Wait, isn't that what happens with the Addams Family anyways? Meh, something to think about later.

“So no candy.” As I step out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley proper. “Mm. Dae, any suggestions?” The new nickname still tasted strange on my tongue, but I had decided to stick with it.

Daedalus hummed in thought. “There’s a shop just ahead and to the left that sells meat pies. It would be a safe choice and certainly more appropriate than random candy.”

I mulled it over for a moment, even as my feet carried me to the shop in question. “Yeah that sounds good actually. Especially if I keep it warm… Yeah. Yeah, let's do that.”

[FIVE MINUTES LATER]

Alright I take it back. I walked in there expecting to get a pie or two for each of us and I left with an entire bag of food, and even paid extra for the warming charm just cause I was too lazy to cast it myself.

Never say I was terrible at first impressions. I mean who else would spend this much money on food for their goddamn lawyer?

Yeah I might just be trying to justify how much money I spent. I’m sure Ironquill is rolling around in his suit right now in pure anguish.

Oh well. I told him I intended to put the wealth to use, and this was an extension of that. Though as I found myself on the front steps to Gringotts, I found myself hoping I wasn’t gonna have to actually explain it to him face to face.

I spared a small glance to the guards on either side of the massive doors before heading inside. It was only my second time going inside but that rush of magic that loved to settle in just beneath my ribs was intense. I’d be surprised if I ever got used to it. Hell, any of this.

Nonetheless, I pushed forward towards the teller in the back as I adjusted the bag in my hand. Just as before, I stood there silently until they looked up at me.

“Ah, Mister Potter.” He spoke slowly, setting his pen down on the podium as he peered down at me. “I take it you’re here to meet Miss Jones.”

It didn’t sound like a question. “Yes, I am. Is she here?”

A small nod. “She is. Gornack will escort you to the room that has been allocated for your meeting, if you follow him.” He turns to look over his shoulder at the goblin waiting by the door, clad in the typical Gringotts attire and carrying a firm, neutral gaze on his face.

“Thank you.” I nod to the teller before moving towards Gornack, following him into the main corridor behind the Gringotts atrium. If any of them cared about the bag in my mind, no one said anything. Though I could only imagine they had several security enchantments in place to make sure they didn’t need to care directly.

Honestly I was a little more worried about meeting Hestia in person than when I had gone back here with Ironquill. Maybe it was because of her letter? Or because Amelia had hyped her up so much? Or maybe it was just the difference between discussing my heritage with a Goblin and actually meeting someone who could become privy to all of my secrets.

… Well. Maybe not all of them. But I would need to trust her with some of it, if she was to be even remotely useful to me.

Not exactly the easiest thing in the world considering the voice in my head. Hard to explain that without sounding like a damn lunatic.

In the meantime, my eyes began to roam the halls again. Admiring the goblin-built architecture and the subtle power brimming beneath it all. As if the goblins were daring anyone to cross them. As if they were itching for another war.

"Mister Potter." Gornack's voice broke through my concentration, causing me to turn back to him. "We're here." He gestures to a nearby door. "Miss Jones will be inside. The room has been warded for the protection of everyone involved."

There was a small pause before he continued, a slight smile crossing his lips. "I don't recommend pulling your wand unless absolutely necessary."

I nod, swallowing back too many questions that I knew wouldn't be answered in the first place. "Thank you, Gornack."

The goblin tilts his head to one side ever so slightly, but doesn't respond. Eyes flicking towards the door briefly as if telling me to enter.

So I do.

The door opens to reveal a medium sized, personal meeting room not unlike the one I had met Ironquill in originally. Albeit smaller. A beautifully carved table in the middle with several chairs laden with intricate carvings. Hanging above the table was a single, masterful chandelier, providing far more light to the room than it reasonably should have.

"There you go. At least you're on time." My eyes moved to the source of the voice before they widened in surprise.

Let me tell you — there isn't much to know about Hestia Jones, as far as I could remember. So I didn't know what to expect going into this meeting. Yet, I was still thrown off by the sun-kissed tomboy sitting there, staring at me like I was the latest prey to enter her cage.

I could see why she did so well in the Order of the Phoenix before. She was visibly trained. Combat-ready shoulders, firm arms, and thighs that strained her pants in just the right way. Short, wild hair that cropped just at the shoulders. Accented by her low hung jeans and leather jacket.

Frankly? I might've just fallen in love.

A sharp, barking laugh shakes me back to reality. "See something you like, Potter?" She stared at me with those deep, brown eyes and a sly smirk that made me feel like a tiger was stalking me in the tall grass. Even lounging like she was, I was a little afraid she could spring across the room and break me before I could blink.

No, really. I might just kiss her.

Assuming I didn't drop dead from the embarrassment of being caught staring — my face quickly turning a light shade of red as I moved to sit down. "Mm." I clear my throat lightly. "So, I assume Amelia told you already, but I was looking for a solicitor that would be working with me long term. Handling my estates," her eyebrow raises at estates — multiple "walking me through the process of being a Lord, and anything else that pops up along the way."

There was a brief pause before I quickly put the bag in my hand onto the table. "Sorry, I uh— I brought you these as well. I figured we could share them, if you haven't had breakfast already."

Her eyes lingered on me for a second longer than I would've liked before they trailed to the bag. A primal sort of hunger beneath the chocolatey pools as she reached over, opening it to peek inside.

… "Pies, huh?" She spoke in a neutral tone as she reached in and grabbed one to pull it out and inspect. "Still warm."

I nod. "You mentioned bringing you something to eat in your letter. And I thought it would be inappropriate to get something like candy—" the soft hum that escaped her confirmed my suspicions "—and I figured this would be one of the better options. Other than grabbing food from the Leaky Cauldron, of course."

"Hm." She hums again, leaning back in her seat as her eyes return to me. Unwrapping the pastry slowly without blinking once. I just stared back and hoped that she'd give up on this game of chicken before I went permanently blind.

Once the pastry was unwrapped, she brought it to her mouth and took a bite, chewing silently. Still just watching me.

It took everything in my power to stop my eyes from flicking down to the small amount of midriff I could see peeking out beneath her tight tank top. I almost swore I could feel Daedalus smirking at me — if he even could. Frankly, I wasn't about to find out.

She eventually swallows and sets the pie down onto the table, using the wrapper as a napkin of sorts to keep it from getting dirty. Then she goes back to lounging and staring at me. Like she had nothing better to do than watch me sweat.

The fucking sadist.

Then— "Not bad, Potter." Her slightly rough voice nearly spooked me out of my seat as it broke the silence so suddenly. "Not bad, indeed. I'll give you credit for that one, at least."

Daedalus remained silent, but that didn't stop the arrogant smirk he most assuredly had.

Her chair creaked gently as she sat up straight and gently wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "So. You need a solicitor, huh? Okay. I'm game."

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by her holding up a finger. "But."

"You," she points. "Need to tell me why now. You've had years to claim your lordship. You survive two years of Hogwarts, one of which nearly ends in disaster at the hands of a monster, and then I hear you're emancipated from your adoptive parents. Contacting people like Madam Greymatch and even getting the balls to walk straight up to Amelia Bones herself."

A small smirk crosses her lips at my confused expression. "Come now, Potter. Amelia must've told you I was good. You think I walk into a meeting with the boy who lived without doing my research?" She chuckles and grabs her pie, taking another satisfying bite out of it. Even letting out a small moan that I was sure she did specifically to fuck with me.

"So what's your angle?" She says in between bites, her eyes never leaving me. "The Potter of the last eighteen years hasn't been seen outside of his visits to Hogwarts, and frankly, was rather… Unremarkable in his studies. Not bad, mind you. But… Bland. Less than expected from Gryffindor's Golden Boy."

She sets the pie back down, allowing her fingers to lightly drum the table. "You want me to work for you, that's my price. Answers to the most important question of all." Her hand slowly raises, pointing a single finger at me. "What has Harry Potter stirring so many cauldrons at once?" There was a pause as her eyebrow raised. "… Better yet. What's got you so spooked that you're clawing your way out from mediocrity into your rightful power?"

I stared at her silently with a lump in my throat. I hadn't expected her to tease me so much and then immediately go for the throat with her research into who I was. Who I had been. Part of me was impressed, if I was being honest. The other part of me was a little terrified.

Maybe I had been too complacent. Or maybe she was just that good.

I watched as she started eating the pie again, seemingly content with waiting for an answer from me. As if she had all of the time in the world to wait.

… "For my whole life, I've been many things." My vision swam with memories not my own, but felt far too familiar.

"We won't have any freak business in this house, boy!" The bulging, red face of Vernon Dursley standing over me.
"Freak. Burden."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter." Snape snarls, beady eyes staring at me as if I were a disgusting bug.
"Mistake. Reminder of a broken past."

A careful gaze watching me, "I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter." as Olivander speaks like he were making a prophecy.
"Hero. Golden Boy."

"Help at Hogwarts, will always come to those who need it." Dumbledore staring at us beneath the cloak as he allows Hagrid to be taken away, knowing we would do something to help.
"Soldier."

"I'm tired of being what someone else thinks of me. I'm tired of being forced into a box because of who I am, or who my parents were, or because of a scar on my forehead that I never asked for." My tone was steady and I never looked away from the teasing witch as she returned the gaze just as easily. "… And I don't think we've seen an end to the darkness in the world. Voldemort tried to kill me in my first year by possessing Professor Quirrel. Then he tried to return again and controlled a Basilisk beneath Hogwarts to kill Muggle-Born and then myself."

I reached over to my sleeve slowly and rolled it up, showing the scar on my bicep that would likely never fade in my lifetime. Thanks, cursed wounds. "And it nearly did kill me. Had I not killed it first." The sleeve rolls back down as I pull my hand away.

"I'm the Lord of Houses Potter and Black. I'm sure that information won't be private for long, regardless of whether or not you work for me, so there's no harm in telling you. This means that I have ties to perhaps both sides of the Light versus Dark coin that dictates our lives." The rings appeared on my hand, and I watched Hestia glance to them. "I won't be content with dying in someone else's war. I won't be content with acting like a pawn to be controlled and discarded."

The bag crumped as I grabbed it, dragging it closer so I could grab a pie of my own. "I want to carve a hole in this world for myself. I want to secure a future that isn't beneath someone else's boot, or laying in some mass grave somewhere." My eyes flashed a golden hue for a brief moment. "Most of all — I want to live."

I unwrapped the pie and brought it to my mouth, taking a bite out of it as I stared Hestia down. As if I hadn't just pulled off the performance of a lifetime and nearly poured my entire, rage filled heart out to someone I had just met.

And there we sat for what felt like hours. But perhaps, was only a few seconds at most.

Then she spoke.

"Then I believe we have a contract to sign, Harry." She reached over and grabbed a piece of paper that I hadn't noticed before, gently sliding it across the table towards me. "Assuming you're still interested in hiring me."

I chewed the pie silently, but even I knew the answer had already been chosen from the moment I walked into this room. Everything had been a show. A play, put on by the both of us, just to see what came of it. Which is why I grabbed the quill and scribbled my name at the bottom of the page, right next to her signature.

The piece of paper glowed brightly and then disappeared.

"Congratulations, Harry." She spoke again. "You've just taken your first steps into taking this world by the balls and reclaiming your own destiny." A small smirk crossed her face as she regarded me with a playful energy. "Now. What shall we do first?"

Chapter Text

"If you're truly serious about regaining your identity, and surviving whatever you think is to come, then take this." The sound of paper sliding across wood. "A shopping list. You've got two years to catch up on, after all."

My feet carried me down the streets as I gently messed with the paper in my hand. Fidgeting to deal with the remaining nervousness. Amelia had described Hestia as a "a firecracker. I’m sure you’ll love her." And if I was being honest, firecracker was putting it way too mildly. I had entered the lion's den bare naked and she would've eaten me alive had I been less careful.

Yet, somehow, I had made it out alive. Not too worse for wear, and with a contract signed that hired her as my attorney.

What a goddamn world we live in.

Ring.

The bell rang softly as I pushed the door opened and moved into the apothecary building. Immediately I was hit with a heavy scent of different herbs and plants that all seemed to mix into something — not entirely unpleasant. But wholly indescribable. The interior was a mix of darker woods and the occasional chandelier hanging down. Different rows of various equipment, freshly plucked reagents, and even books. All sectioned and helpfully marked by their recommended Mastery level.

With a quick glance to the Apothecary — Slugg and Biggens portion of the list, I moved towards the Alchemical Reagents section. Overall, it was a straight forward list.

• Silverweed, Dittany, Murtlap Essence

Useful for healing, regeneration, and soothing properties. You'll want to keep a field kit on you at all times. Outside of a Bezoar, these'll be your next best bets.

• Grindylow Horn Dust & Salamander Blood

Components of resilience-enhancing or resistance potions. Tough to brew, but helpful if you want to take extra risks in a spar, or you know you'll be advancing under some heavy fire.

• Pearl Dust & Moonstone

Not exactly my forte, Potter. But these can help you with divination or dream magic. Easier to brew than most potions. Maybe you'll find them helpful.

• Dragon Liver & Cockroach Clusters

Let's see how well you can handle some pressure. These are meant for NEWT-level curriculum, but they shouldn't kill you even if you seriously cock them up. Just don't be afraid to admit if you can't handle them. I'm sure Snape would dock points for arrogance either way.

And then it was time for some upgrades to tools. Bless Hagrid and his gentle, gigantic heart. The loveable dork didn't know the first thing about Alchemy — and neither did I. Lucky me that I had a solicitor who took her NEWTs then. The equipment area was massive, with different plaques that described the purpose of the tool and even its own recommended uses. Helpful for someone who didn't have Hestia's scribbled handwriting to guide them through it.

• Self-Stirring Pewter Cauldron (Grade 3)

Highly stable for precision brews, allowing you to multi-task. If you build a potions lab in the future, then we can talk about the differences in cauldron materials. But you're trying to catch up for your first two years at Hogwarts. No need to make it too complicated.

• Temperature-Regulating Flame Plate

Regardless of what Snape tells you, there's no point to micromanaging your heat constantly. This'll automatically keep itself stabled at the heat levels you set it to. Like I said before, helpful for multi-tasking.

• Stirring Rods (Silver-Tipped, Unicorn Hair-Core)

One of the more sensitive stirring rods. Good for subtle, emotional brews. No offense, Potter, but I think you'll be a little emotional while figuring out how to do Alchemy on your own, without a dickhead breathing down your neck constantly. Thank me later.

And then finally, books. Honestly, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on the Prince's schoolbook again. But maybe — if I indulged myself in a moment of vanity — I could make my own. I'd heard my mom had always been good at Potions. And it's not like Snape was the only person who could figure out to crush instead of cut.

• Beyond the Cauldron: The Art of Alchemical Synthesis

Potion theory, magical energetics, and transmutation. You won't find this in your curriculum until past your OWL years. Partly because it's meant to teach you how to come up with your own brews. Be careful.

• The Hidden Lexicon of Potion Failures

Why learn from your own mistakes and potentially kill yourself in the process, when there have been people making those mistakes for decades before you? Work smarter, not harder, Potter. Wise words to live by.

With my arms full, I made my way over to the counter and set it all down. Letting out a soft huff as I realized that I really needed to send a letter to Hestia and ask her if she had any recommendations for dealing with the past— two decades of malnourishment. I had to fight the urge to kick myself, seeing as I had the perfect opportunity to ask her during the meeting and had gotten distracted.

In my defense, she was hot. She knew it, and she knew how to abuse it.

"Quite a haul, Sir." The clerk behind the desk — an older gentleman with an air of mastery to him, and a faint smell of smoke and oil — spoke up, drawing me back to the present. "It's not everyday that I find someone your age buying moonstone, and Grindylow horn without an order slip." A small smile crossing his lips. "Might I ask if this is for school? Or for personal use?"

I shuffle slightly, reaching up to rub the back of my head as I realize how strange all of this must look. "… Uhm. A little bit of A, a little bit of B, sir. I didn't pay that much attention in my first few years at Hogwarts, and I'm realizing that I need to take it seriously if I want— to have a good career in the future."

The clerk nods as he waves his wand over the lot. "Quite alright. You wouldn't be the first, nor would you be the last. Would it be alright if I asked if you were looking to be an Auror? Or perhaps a Potion's Master?" He steps away from the counter, looking around for something.

"Oh— I actually wanted to be an Auror, originally. In my first year. Now? I'm— Trying to figure it out. I guess. I just know that potions will be important to me." A small pause lingers between us. "My mom," I coughed slightly at the last second to cover up the "o" instead of the u that I should've said, "was actually good at potions when she was in school, apparently. I guess part of me wants to connect to that part of her."

He eventually moves back over to the desk, as he opened a pouch and began to stuff all of the materials inside. It wasn't exactly difficult to tell that it had an expansion charm on the inside, considering he'd stuffed a cauldron more than five times its size into it. "I understand." His tone was solemn, and gentle.

"Alchemy can be a masterful, and rewarding job. It can just as well be rewarding for those who seek it as a skill to supplement their own adventures, or perhaps, as you said — just to connect to. No one can truly speak for anyone else as to how something matters." His warm eyes move to look into my own with a gentle gaze. "Especially for someone so young."

His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he stands up straight again. "I do hope that this," his hand pats the pouch, "helps you find everything you need. And connect to your mother." Lips quirking upwards into a small, but genuine small. "Is there anything else I may help you with today?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you. How much do I owe you, sir?"

"Twenty-seven galleons, and eighteen sickles. But I think just twenty galleons will do." His smile widens a little. "And no bargaining, please. If you're truly serious about connecting with your mother, and doing better, the least I can do is knock off a few coins."

My lips had opened to try and stop him from knocking off so much money before he stopped me. So instead, I stood there and watched him for what felt like far too long. Eventually nodding, and pulling out the money to place onto the counter. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

"No worries." He grabs the coins without counting them as he hands the pouch over to me. "Perhaps I'll see you again someday. And you can humor an old man by showing me your progress. Hm?"

I couldn't help but smile warmly at him in return, nodding my head. "Yes, Sir. I'd like that. Thank you, really." As I took the pouch and left the store. Not a word being shared between us again as I left back out into the streets.

My next stop was Flourish and Blotts, then perhaps Madam Malkin's. One thing that Hestia had told me ahead of time, is that I'd need to get some proper dress robes if I wanted to look the part and "stuff it in their snobby fucking faces that the boy who lived is reclaiming what's his."

I couldn't fault her enthusiasm. She seemed more than eager to help me out in any way she could. While teasing me at every opportunity just to see me blush. The bitch.

Flourish and Blotts was… Cleaner than the Apothecary. Not that I would ever claim the Apothecary to be dirty, but the inside was brighter for certain. A wide arrange of colorful books lining the shelves, and a far larger inside than you would expect looking at it from the outside. That faint scent of fresh paper hit me like a truck, and drew me back to the days of visiting the local library just to spend my hours reading.

A life I would never see again.

I shook it from my head quickly, not wanting to get caught up in it. I knew it wasn't healthy but— but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't go back. I had to keep pressing forward. I had to keep moving. I had to—

I nearly collided with a bookshelf.

So, I took a moment to collect myself. One deep breath in. One deep breath out. Repeat until the shaking had stopped and my heart was no longer pounding against my rib cage like a violent, caged beast.

"Alright. Books. Books." I muttered to myself as I looked down at the list once more.

• The Art of Intent: Spellcasting & The Will

A good book that explains how your emotional state, intent, and even your own mental clarity can affect your magic. Positively, and negatively. Healing magic, for instance, often benefits from a clear mind.

• Wandless Magic and Mental Discipline

Advanced theory on wandless casting. I'm only including this because you brought it up. Don't get discouraged though. Even the best witches and wizards have difficulty with this type of thing. Especially with the more complicated spells.

• Everyday Enchantments: Household & Utility Charms

You'll need this one, trust me. Especially if you're intending to live on your own, and you grew up with Muggles. Take it from me, it sucks moving into a new flat and not having a damn clue how to keep it cleaned.

• Occlumency: Silence of the Mind

Take it from me, Potter, you'll need to learn this eventually. Occlumency isn't just about hiding your thoughts from others, it's about controlling your mind, and your emotions. And if you're going to stare at my muscles as often as you are, you'll need to stop blushing so much.

"goddamn that woman!" I muttered as I felt my neck heating up already.

• A Practitioner's Guide to the Grey Arts

Some people might call this dark magic, or an evil book. Frankly, to me, nothing is inherently evil. Only how you use it. And if Voldemort really attacked you, twice, then you'll need to learn how to defend yourself using more than sheer, dumb fucking luck.

• Counter-Curses, Hexbreakers, and Wards

Helpful, mostly for the Counter Curses and Hexbreakers. Personally, if you want to learn more about wards, I'm happy to set aside some time and teach you personally. There's a reason I was a top pick when it came to creating and dismantling wards during the war's end, after all. ;)

Was the winky face really necessarily? Yes. I knew it was. I knew it was meant to tease me even more. Gods I hated loved that witch.

There were a few other listed books, but they had a small annotation — Owl order only. Unavailable for physical pickup — just above them. Probably because I would have to special order them from more… Unique vendors than just any old school-age shop.

I gently stuffed the list into the pouch that the Apothecary had provided me, and carried the books back over to the front counter.

"Hm." I thought to myself. "Maybe I should create Dumbledore's Army earlier… I mean Lockhart was a right moron. And if I'm going to be self studying anyways, I might as well help the others, right?"

A flash of spellfire. Screams. Vicious snarling. A massive shield collapsing under the weight of a powerful spell. Bodies, bodies everywhere. Fred. Lupin. Tonks—

"Planning to open a school, Mr. Potter?" The clerk asked playfully as she began to count the books, checking their price sheet. "Or just looking to earn some extracurricular credit?"

I stared at her with not-so-present eyes as I laughed. "Just trying to catch up on my studying, ma'am. I actually just visited the apothecary down the street before this. Y'know, taking my education a lot more seriously."

She smiles warmly. "I understand. I'm a muggle-born myself. The moment I stepped foot into Hogwarts the first time, I was — blown away by it all." A reminiscent chuckle escapes her. "Merlin, I still remember the first time I saw Professor McGonagall transform from a cat."

"She still does that, y'know. First day of class, just to mess with you."

"Oh my! Does she?? That's precious." She grins brightly. "Oh would you please tell her Alexis Root said hello, the next time you see her? She was always my favorite teacher."

I nod, my eyes slowly growing warmer as I keep smiling. "I'll make sure to let her know. And between you and me," I lean in a little. "She's my favorite too. But Flitwick is a close second."

"Mhm!" She nods conspiratorially. "Of course, of course. Especially with the musical performances he puts on every year?"

"Oh my Gods!" I laugh. "Yes! He's amazing."

We had probably sat there discussing our time at Hogwarts for nearly ten minutes before another customer walked in and shook us back to the present.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Harry." She smiles apologetically. "I didn't mean to keep you. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I looked around for a moment, my eyes lingering before I nodded and grabbed a nearby journal. Placing it gently on the counter. "This as well, please."

"Of course." The clerk verifies the price of everything with that same smile on her face. "That'll be nineteen galleons and three knuts, please."

After some quick counting, I set the money down onto the counter and then gently set all of the books inside the same pouch as my apothecary purchase. "Thank you so much, really. I'll make sure to tell Professor McGonagall that you said hello."

"Please do, thank you." Her smile nearly turned into a bright grin as she gave me a small wave before turning to the next customer as I moved to the door and left.

My next — and final stop for the day — was Madam Malkin's. My current robes were fine, but at this point, I was going to splurge on something better. Along with some nice dress robes at Hestia's insistence. I had already survived two near death encounters, so I might as well put my money to good use.

And as soon as I entered the shop, I was hurried over to a raised platform and mirror. "Mister Potter," Madam Malkin herself said as she walked over, grabbing the pins that she had resting in her mouth. "It's been quite a minute since I've seen you in here. Always a pleasure." She smiles.

She began taking my measurements with a practiced ease. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need some new robes. Specifically a couple sets for school, charmed if possible. Two sets of dress robes, some more casual wear too. A pair or two of dragonhide gloves, a winter cloak and," I quickly referenced the paper again. "Some boots, if it's not too much of a hassle."

She barely missed a step as she went from measuring my leg to measuring my feet and hands. "Of course. And this is my job after all, so don't worry. It's not a hassle." The smile still on her face. "Do you have any specific colors or designs in mind?"

"Not necessarily. The dress robes are meant for political endeavors so I'll trust your eye on that. If possible, I'd like the boots to be… More utility focused. Still somewhat fashionable, enough to get by with the robes of course. But I tend to find myself in… dubious circumstances. So I need to be ready."

There was a brief pause before I glanced to her. "… Do you sell vests?"

She pauses in her measurements, standing up straight as she looks at me curiously. "What type of vests would you be looking for?"

"Battle vests. Something that can fit nicely beneath the robes, but won't give itself away." My eyes widened as I remembered something in particular. "Actually, Madam. I think I have a small business proposal for you. If you can promise to keep it a secret."

Her eyebrows raised curiously, as she placed a hand onto her hip. "I can promise a secret. I can't promise a result. If that's alright."

I nod. "That's fine. If — say, hypothetically — I could get you access to Basilisk leather," her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair, "would you be able to use that for the vest?"

She stared at me silently for several seconds with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on her face. "… Potter." She finally spoke up, speaking slowly. "If you're being serious, and I won't even begin to ask how you have access to that, then I wouldn't be able to help you. But but but." She said quickly, cutting me off before I could speak.

"I know someone who could. If you, as you say "hypothetically" had access to such a rare, and powerful leather. And I would be willing to introduce you two. As long as you promise me one thing." Her gaze hardened and she looked at me like one might expect a stern mother looking at their child. "That you are safe and not doing anything incredibly stupid to get this hide."

I gave her a sheepish grin. "Does it count if we're past the danger and I'm safe now?"

Her hands covered her face as she tried to muffle the exasperated sigh that escaped her. "Holy shit." She muttered beneath her breath, taking a moment to compose herself.

"Okay." Her hands moved back down and she stared at me with a mixture of concern and maternal stern. "I will give you their contact details once you leave. But I will also be providing you with a Dragonhide vest just the same. Because I don't want to begin to know how the hell you got involved with a Basilisk and I'll be damned if you die on my watch."

Her tone left no room for arguments, so I quickly nodded. Deciding it was my best, and safest course of action. "I understand, miss. I promise I'll be careful."

She kept her gaze locked onto me for another breath before she nods. "Alright. Just wait here and I'll get to work on your clothes. It shouldn't be more than a few minutes." Then she moved away from me and towards the backroom, muttering something under her breath again.

I seemed to have that effect on people a lot, huh.

My attention was drawn to the door opening and I was surprised to find Daphne Greengrass herself entering the store. Along with, who I could only assume, was her younger sister. Astoria.

And I think I finally understood where "Ice Queen" had come from.

Daphne Greengrass was the kind of beauty that hit slow, but hard. All high-bred lines, and long, dancer legs wrapped in thigh-high boots and sleek, black stockings. A charcoal skirt hugged her hips, accenting the deep green blouse that framed the toned elegance of her body. Ash-blonde hair tied back into a low, trailing knot. And those eyes — icy blue but with a deep warmth beneath them, like winter sunlight hitting lakewater.

Astoria followed closely behind, and there was no denying the resemblance even with her smaller stature. Where Daphne had her hair tied back in a knot, Astoria let hers flow down to her shoulders in soft, natural waves. Her eyes were greener, softer — highlighted by the more modest, leather jacket and shorts. As if she was just out for a casual stroll.

My eyes trailed down and I noticed a small piece of cloth in Daphne's hands as I vaguely caught the words "color theory" and "autumn, not a spring" before they caught sight of me standing there in front of the mirror.

Daphne blinked slowly as I stared for a moment too long, then tilted her head. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "You're staring, Potter." She spoke in a smooth, confident tone. As if she had caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.

"Sorry," I muttered, trying to keep my gaze somewhere respectful. "You look good, Daphne." What compelled me to say that to her face would elude me for the rest of my life.

"On a first name basis, are we?" She teased me gently, the smile spreading across her lips just a little more. "So, Harry, what brings you here?" Her eyes slowly trailing across my current robes. "Finally deciding to wear green instead of red?" she jokes, even as Astoria gave her a gentle nudge to her ribs.

She looks over to her younger sister before leaning down so Astoria could whisper into her ear. Whatever she had said caused her smile to grow again as her eyes flicked back to me.

"Just getting some new robes." I cleared my throat lightly. "Trying to— give more attention to my appearance and all. Though if I knew you were in the area, I would've asked for some advice. Considering you seem to know a thing or two about… Fashion."

She laughed softly — the sound like gentle waves crashing into my rib cage. "Thank you for noticing, I do my best after all. Perhaps you'll let me cut your hair someday, then, if we're discussing fashion."

My neck grew a little hotter and I reached up to touch my hair. "… Maybe. I was actually thinking of potentially growing it out and tying it back." As I laid my eyes on the way she had knotted her hair. "Figured it might look a little cleaner."

"I think that'd look nice." Astoria spoke up, with a much more gentle, and softer tone than her sister. "It'd help make you look… Younger, in a way. More put together."

Daphne wraps an arm around her sister, rubbing her side gently. "She's right, Harry. If you wanted to ask me for fashion advice, you should ask her for hair advice. Who do you think does my hair every morning, after all?" She couldn't help but laugh as Astoria blushed lightly and muttered something to her.

"So, Harry." Daphne pulls her arm back from Astoria's side and moves over towards me in an easy, confident stride. Looking up at me with that same smile on her face and allowing me to see just how beautifully stunning her eyes were. Like a tempest of ice that threatened to bite down to your bone and make sure you never left.

"If you're not too busy, I was hoping you'd indulge in a visit down to Fortescue's. Astoria is getting some new robes for next year," she fidgets slowly with the piece of cloth in her hand. "So I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat while I wait for her. Unless…" She trails off playfully. "You're still scared to been with Slytherins." As she gave me a grin like a viper in the grass, waiting to strike at the mouse.

I swallow slowly, giving her a nod. "I would like that very much. And I don't hate Slytherins. I just don't like bullies." I finally indulge a little, allowing my eyes to glance down and notice the athletic bulge of her thighs over the top of the stockings. Before I locked eyes with her again.

"As long as you're okay being seen with a Gryffindor."

Her eyes flashed a dangerous playfulness as she nodded. "Oh I'd just love to be seen with Gryffindor's golden boy. Just be careful. They might assume I'm corrupting you."

I didn't tell her that I might just let her.

May the Gods have mercy on my soul with how many beautiful women I keep meeting.

Chapter Text

I had asked Madam Malkin to send my materials to my room at the Leaky Cauldron, along with the contact details for the vest maker who would be willing to work with Basilisk Hide. It had all seemed so important until I found myself staring into those eyes and being asked out to ice cream.

And now, as I found myself eating "Raspberry Firewhirl" across from Slytherin's alleged "Ice Queen" — I knew I had made the right decision in saying yes.

"Mm." Daphne hums softly as she scoops a small amount of her own ice cream — "Frosted Lavender Honeycomb, please" — into her mouth. Small, shimmering bits of honeycomb that seemed to sparkle amidst the beautiful lavender color almost made me jealous. "Fortescue always makes the best flavors."

I nod, spooning another small amount of my own into my mouth. Enjoying the blend of raspberry sorbet and creamy vanilla, threaded with a little cinnamon undertone for a sweet, and sharp bite. Each bite warmed my body just a little more, getting rid of a coldness in my chest that I didn't know existed until then. "I come here somewhat often, when I don't have other things going on. Just to try new flavors."

She laughs softly. "I almost wish I could. But I'd probably put on a little more weight than I'd like. Especially if I had such pleasant company every time." She takes another bite of her ice cream, letting out a soft, joyful sound at the flavor. "Merlin. Would you like to try some?"

I could only assume how dumbfounded I must've looked at that moment, based on how Daphne had to cover her mouth to stifle the louder laugh that nearly escaped her. But she's persistent, pushing the bowl closer to me and gesturing with her spoon. Even as she tries to keep her reaction under control.

My eyes lingered on her face, and the lines that appeared as she laughed. Then I gently grabbed my own bowl and swapped it with hers, silently asking her to taste mine in return.

She keeps her mouth covered for a moment, but the playful raise of her eyebrow was all I needed as a response. I scoop a small amount of her ice cream from the bowl and then lift it to my mouth. My eyes never leaving her as I put the spoon into my mouth.

It was elegant, with a slightly aloof taste at first. But there was a warmth that crept in through the honey, and then the soft crunch of the honeycomb that added a needed sharpness to cut through the cold, floral taste of lavender.

She watched me for a moment, monitoring her reaction before she gently scooped a taste of my ice cream in return and placed it into her mouth. Eyes widening in surprise, as she likely hadn't expected the gentle heat, or the subtle burn of cinnamon. But with the way she took another scoop from my bowl — and silently dared me to do something about it — I could only assume she had liked it.

So I took another scoop of hers, giving her a playful look that said 'two can play at this game' as I spooned it into my mouth.

A genuine, soft smile crossed her face as she pushed my bowl back towards me and grabbed hers. "You're not as bad as I thought you'd be, Harry." She pauses and then laughs. "I'm sorry, that was meaner than I intended it to be. I just. I kind of expected you to be more… Gryffindor. All hate and anger towards me just because I wear green."

"Well you're not so bad yourself, Daph." I allow the accidental rudeness to roll off my back, knowing she hadn't really meant it. "For a Slytherin." It was my turn to tease her, and I didn't feel an ounce of regret, even as she gently kicked my shin between the table.

"Dick." As she tried to put a frown on her face, fighting back the smile that wanted to be there instead.

I take another bite of my ice cream, giving her little more than a grin in return as I withstood the not-so-serious glare that she threw my way. "The hat almost put me in Slytherin, for the record."

"Seriously? You???" She stared at me like I had grown three heads and started spouting ancient Latin.

I nod. "I haven't really told anyone. But it was between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Who knows," as I think back to my first day on the Express, "if I hadn't met Malfoy or Ron that first day, things could've been different."

Her head tilts to one side curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Malfoy went before me into Slytherin. And he was… Rough to deal with, even back then. As I'm sure you know." The look of annoyance that crossed her face told me everything I needed to know. "And Ron was… Gryffindor's mascot. "All my family has been in Gryffindor!" and Hagrid told me not a witch or wizard that went to Slytherin hadn't gone bad."

I trail off for a moment and decide to fill the silence with ice cream.

"Not great first impressions to give someone who knows nothing about the world he's entering. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. But everything I had learned in a short period just led me to choosing Gryffindor instead. It seemed… Safer, I guess."

Her fingers lightly fidget with the spoon in her hand as she thinks over everything I had said. "That's fair. I agree that it's… Unfair to put labels on people who haven't done anything. Even though I know it's difficult not to when everything that happens in school kinda pushes you to follow those labels."

"Not everyone in Slytherin is a supporter of Voldemort," her use of his name directly had surprised me enough to nearly drop my spoon, "yes, I said his name. C'mon, I'm not a toddler. But when there's a loud and very vocal group of people who support him, or had family that served his Death Eaters, it's… You're encouraged, just by the peer pressure of it, to join ranks."

"And it's not like anyone else in that school will like us, unless we put in a lot of work." She mutters, eyes lowering to her bowl. "Plenty of people in Slytherin don't deserve the hatred that our house gives us. All because of some blood purity assholes that won't shut the fuck up about outdated ideals."

I stayed silent and let her vent. I remembered vaguely that the Greengrass family was neutral, but this felt less neutral than I had expected. And honestly? I felt a little bad that even after accepting her offer for ice cream, I had almost expected her to make some kind of comment about muggle-born.

I had judged her in the very way she was complaining about. Which is why I gently pressed my shoe against hers and rubbed it. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how rough it must be. Especially with the teachers, I know some of them," my mind thinks to McGonagall and her rabid fanaticism towards Gryffindor, "don't exactly treat you guys that well to begin with."

She didn't speak for a few seconds, eventually just letting out a soft sigh as she nods. "Yeah. And trust me, I know Snape is a bully to anyone that's not Slytherin. To be honest, part of me wonders if it's because of McGonagall. Or… I don't know. Maybe he just can't let go of his stupid pride over being a snake."

"All right, Snivellus?"

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal his legs and underwear. Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter.

Lily rushed to his defense, shouting "Let him down!"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" Snape roared in anger.

A loud cracking sound brought me back to the present and I looked down to find a small break in the table we were sitting at. "… Fuck." I mutter softly, before pulling out my wand to cast a repairing charm on it.

Daphne sat there silently, watching as I fixed my accidental outburst of magic. Her face twisted slightly, obviously wanting to ask if I was alright, but she wasn't sure if she should. Or could.

"… Sorry. I'm fine." I mutter again, refusing to look at her as I put the wand away. "I just. … My mom and Snape used to be friends. And my dad hated him, and he hated my dad and— you can see where this is going, I think." My eyes stayed on my bowl of ice cream as I slowly swirled it around, embarassed that I had acted out magically.

Her hand rests on top of mine, gently squeezing it with a warm, soothing touch. I hadn't expected her to be so warm. Or for my own skin to feel so cold.

"It's alright, Harry." She speaks softly, eventually getting out of her seat to move and sit down next to me. Gently encouraging me to scooch a little so she could plop down to my side. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. I'm sure it's… Difficult. Especially when he treats you like shit all the time."

My jaw clenches tightly as I nod, not trusting myself to speak right now.

She stays silent as well, her thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand. Never tearing her eyes from me, wanting to try and make sure I was okay.

"Thanks." I eventually manage, barely speaking up loud enough to be heard.

A small smile crosses her face and she nods. "It's alright." She repeats again.

"So," she begins. "What got you into Quidditch? I've seen a few of your games against Malfoy and you're pretty kick ass out there. Y'know, when you aren't constantly on the verge of dying or getting seriously maimed."

I turn to look at her, seeing a playful grin across her face that causes me to laugh. "Yeah, it does happen a lot, huh?"

"Only a little. So c'mon. Tell me what got you into it. Or is this another one of your hair brained schemes to get popular?~"

"Excuse me! I'm already too popular for my own liking, thank you." I huff and turn away from her as she laughs.

Her shoulder gently nudges into mine as she laughs some more. "C'mon, I was just kidding. So, spill the beans. I wanna know."

It took me a moment before I huffed again and turned back to her. "Fine. It was our first ever flying lesson in first year. Malfoy had stolen Neville's Remembrall and McGonagall just so happened to be in the right place to see me get it back from him." Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a seeker. "After that, I was basically recruited against my will to the Quidditch team as their seeker."

She gave me a 'really' look at my mention of the forced recruitment, causing me to laugh. "Really! I didn't even get a say in the matter, she just brought me to Wood and basically handed me to him like I was a golden goose. And I don't regret a damn moment about it."

"Hm. I'll believe you, only because I think it's a cute story. And because you let me have a taste of your ice cream." As she casually takes another scoop of it and plops it into her mouth, giving me another grin that dared me to do something.

I never did.

We sat there until the sun had begun to dip behind the buildings and the air slowly cooled. Leaving us with only each other and our wands for warmth. But neither of us minded. Not with the way we shared stories and laughed at the embarrassing moments we had of our first two years at Hogwarts.

Eventually though, we parted ways — with Daphne insisting that she pay for the ice cream this time. Finally giving me a "Okay, you pay next time, Potter." before she grinned and moved back towards Madam Malkins to pick up her sister. My hand slowly moved to caress the other, trying to remember how it had felt to have her comforting me after my small outburst.

Once she was out of sight, I turned and walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron. My next order of business was to visit Madam Greymatch and finally get to see the property I had picked out. I'd even invited Hestia to tag along, to hopefully get an extra eye on things. And because she knew a thing or two about Wards, which would come in handy.

But as I entered my room, I hesitated in the doorway. My eyes flickering over to the nearby parchment on my table.

Soon, I found myself sitting down and writing a letter.

Hi Daphne,

Thanks again for dragging me out for ice cream. It was nice to have some company for once, and you're very pleasant to be around.

I know things got.. Heavy for a bit, and I just wanted to give you my thanks again. For listening, and for being there.

If you ever want to do it again — ice cream, I mean — I still owe you a bite of that one flavor I mentioned. The one with the exploding strawberry bites.

Let me know.

— Harry

Then Hedwig was off into the night, letter attached to her leg and a treat as payment. I stared through the window, watching her snow-white form disappearing into the darkness as a small smile crossed my face.

I tucked myself into bed and slowly drifted off. Blissfully unaware of just how chaotic my life was going to get soon. Even as my mind liked to remind me how screwed I was going to be if I kept accidentally surrounding myself with beautiful women that just knew how to push my damn buttons.

There was nothing I could do to stop the smile from spreading across my face as I fell asleep.

Chapter Text

I hadn't received a letter back that morning from Daphne. Although, I wasn't really expecting one to be honest. The heiress to the Greengrass Family likely had duties of her own to tend to. Even though I understood that, I was still a little disappointed. The "Ice Queen of Slytherin" was a lot more enjoyable to hang out with than I had expected.

Such is life. Luckily, I had other matters to attend to that would keep me busy. Like the open house that I had scheduled a few days ago with Madam Greymatch. I had even mentioned it in passing to Hestia during our meeting, and she'd asked to attend it with me. Something about needing to "make sure you don't sign a shitty contract five seconds into our partnership, Potter."

Frankly, I wasn't sure if I should be offended that she'd thought I was stupid, or happy that she was already taking this new relationship so seriously. Maybe a mix of both? … Yeah, probably both.

But I didn't have long to deliberate on that particular thought as I found myself in a forest clearing.

“Harry Potter,” he spoke in a soft voice, mixing with the spitting fire between them. “The Boy Who Lived.” Red eyes staring at him as a wand rose through the air with the weight of an entire world behind it.

My hands clenched tightly as I shook the thought from my head. I hadn't faced Voldemort yet. Hell, Harry hadn't either. It was just memories of a book series. Of a movie. With my brain filling in the gaps. But, that didn't mean those red eyes hadn't seared their way into my soul all the same.

"Ah. Mister Potter. I'm glad you could join us." A gentle voice broke through my barriers and dragged my attention back to the world in front of me. My eyes landing on the witch in front of me as I tried to focus. Late middle age, with silver streaked hair that pulled into a sharp bun. Rich, deep green robes that covered her body, lined with a moth silver trim. She had an aura of maturity to her that reminded me of Madam Bones but more… Motherly.

Next to her was Hestia, who had chosen to wear more "muggle-esque" clothes. A leather jacket, biker boots, ripped jeans. Her voice echoed in my head as I thought back to our first meeting, "If I'm gonna be forced to wear those damn stupid robes in the Wizengamot, then I'm gonna be comfortable every other time." And I couldn't help but chuckle at it.

My gaze fell upon at my realtor as I gave her a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Madam." Bowing slightly at the waist out of politeness. "And thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to show me the property. I hope it wasn't too much trouble?"

"Nonsense." She says warmly with a small wave to dismiss the comment. "What sort of realtor would I be if I didn't take pride in my work and the properties I'm selling my clients? Of course, you aren't any normal client Mister Potter, but I would've offered this opportunity to any first time client, regardless of their celebrity status."

I nod, standing straight. "I'm glad to hear that, Madam. Especially after I gave you such an… extensive set of requirements. I honestly wasn't sure if I'd gone overboard with it or not." My eyes flick to Hestia for a moment, noting the small look of curiosity on her face as to what sort of requirements I might've had for a home.

A small grin spread across Madam Greymatch's face. "Believe me, Mister Potter. You're far from the worse client I've had in that regards. But I'm sure you're much more interested in your future home than listening to me ramble." She gestured further into the clearing, "shall we?"

"Yes, please." A small, polite smile crossed over my face as I moved towards the deeper end of the clearing along with the two of them. Though I couldn't help feel too much of a similarity to when I had walked to my death at the hands of Voldemort.

… My death?? Harry's death. Harry Potter's death. One that didn't even happen in this timeline. One that wouldn't. I planned to kill Voldemort long before he could hurt anyone I cared about.

Hestia's voice broke through my concentration. "Thank you for allowing me to tag along, Madam." Hands resting in her jean pockets as she strolled alongside the older witch. "I'm sure you can understand my desire to keep an eye on my… Investment." She turned to look back at me with the hint of a playful grin on her face. "The young Lord tends to get himself into trouble far too often."

"Of course, of course." The Madam chuckles softly with a warm smile of her own. Though I couldn't help noticing the humor in her eyes at hearing Hestia talk about me like she was my babysitter. "You wouldn't be the first solicitor to tag along with a client. Though you would be the first the show up dressed so… Uniquely. Perhaps I should ask for your opinion on my wardrobe sometime."

Hestia quickly turned to look at Greymatch, all thoughts of teasing me wiped away at the idea of dragging another person into sharing her "fuck those stuffy, gaudy robes" attitude. She didn't even hear my laugh, too focused on her new partner in crime as they began to share stories about their various dealings with the Wizengamot and its annoying traditions.

They had soon switched topics to discussing Fudge's time as the Minister of Magic just before I felt a weird feeling washing over me, not too dissimilar to the feeling I got whenever I entered Gringotts. But before I could comment on it, the house came into view. Though, calling it a house was doing it a disservice. It was practically a manor all in its own right and still beautiful. Obviously cultivated through centuries of spellcraft and well maintained.

A wide gravel path met you at the base, winding through manicured yew hedges up to the front gates, bearing a crest: A stag rampant, with twin does flanking either side. The house itself was three stories tall, with slate roofs and tall chimneys, and windows that I could feel the enchantments of even from out here. As I stepped onto the gravel, I could feel the faint humming of the wards lapping at me. Tasting, trying to identify whether I came to cause harm, ready to bare their teeth.

"This used to be the country retreat of a cadet branch of the Caerwyn House." Madam Greymatch spoke as she moved towards the gate. "Old allies of the Prewett and Bones. Though deceased since the early 19th century, when the last heir poured their fortune into the home. Layering wards, runic engravings, and so forth." Her hand gently brushing against the crest on the front of the gate. "A little dramatic for a crest, I know. But drama does have its uses in politics."

She spoke again, but this time in Welsh, almost whispering into the gate as it opened on its own. The wards relaxing beneath my feet as they recognized the tongue of friend, not foe. "For security, there's anti-apparition and portkey wards layered into the foundations and surrounding area. These of course will be tagged to you, and under your control, should you become the owner." She gestured us forth as we all moved towards the large oak doors.

"Of course, muggle repulsion, unplottable terrain, and selective recognition charms as well. There are even runic anchors built into keystones, should you find a Wardsmith capable enough of using them." As she spared a glance towards Hestia, who returned it with a smug grin. "Consider this place less of a fortress, and more of a… Canvas, Mister Potter. More than strong enough to protect you now, but flexible enough to become what you need later. Just as you required."

She pushed the doors open and the air felt electrifying as we moved into the main hall. Polished oak floors, and a great staircase curving up into galleries above. Twin fireplaces roared with a smokeless fire, leaving the room beautifully warm and comfortable. A chandelier stood above it all with crystals that looked like miniature stars glowing beneath the oily sky. Almost reminiscent of Hogwarts' magical rooftop. "Plenty of space for any sort of party you hold in the future. Especially if you decorate it more, or use enchantments to further increase the dimensions."

I looked around the grand hall with wide eyes. Nothing the books or movies did could've prepared me for this level of elegance, certainly not in a home that I would soon call my own. It almost felt too much until I remembered that was I supposed to be the Lord of two houses. I would need to go above and beyond just to cement myself amongst people who had held their positions for centuries.

"Off to the left," she gestured to a nearby door, "is the library. Unfortunately, there aren't any books left but there's plenty of space for you to fill it out on your own without stumbling across someone's forgotten copy of "Witch's Weekly." The small smirk on her face told me that she'd seen it happen more than once before. "There is also a laboratory wing, a dueling hall, and the private master suite along with accompanying quarters. I can show you through any of them before I show you around the grounds if you'd like."

"If I may," Hestia spoke up, drawing our attention towards her. "I believe the Dueling Hall would be a good first choice, Harry. Followed by the Laboratory and then Quarters. Get all of the excitement out of the way first, so you're more focused on the rest of the tour."

I took a moment to think it over. She had a point. Sure, it would be nice to leave the best, and most anticipated portion for last, but I wasn't a child. I had to be smart about this, with a clear mind. So, I nodded. "Of course. I think that would be for the best. If you're okay with that, Madam." As I turned back to my realtor.

"Of course, dear. Come with me." A pleased grin on her face as she turned heel and moved further into the house. "The hall is warded to automatically absorb excess spellfire, and redirect stray curses safely into the ground. I'm sure you'll loved it."

And she was right. The moment we walked into the large chamber, I could feel the power thrumming in here. Waiting for me to let everything loose and train like never before. I moved slowly across the polished obsidian flooring, admiring the floating motes of witchlight along the ceiling that seemed to adjust as I moved faster or slower.

"These ward-panels are heavily enchanted." Greymatch speaks up, as she moves smoothly across the floor to the walls. "They'll absorb seven tiers of offensive magic before they even begin to strain. Anything less destructive than Fiendfyre fill vanish into the ground, while leaving you and your partners perfectly intact. I'm sure even Dumbledore would be amazed by the pressure this room could endure before snapping."

Even Hestia seemed amazed by it, finally losing her cool, unbothered appearance as she walked around. Tracing her fingers along the ward-panels as if she could unlock some secret hidden beneath them. And frankly, I wouldn't put it past her to do that somehow. If anyone could, I'm sure it would be her.

"It's gorgeous, Madam." My hand twitched slightly as I fought back the urge to pull my wand and test it right now, silently thanking Hestia for her suggestion to check it out first. "Though perhaps we should keep moving, before we get too enraptured by it?" I suggested with a slightly teasing tone, trying to hide my own excitment.

She chuckled in response. "Of course. Come, we'll check out the Laboratory next."

Though it wasn't as immediately exciting as the dueling hall, I had been excited nonetheless to see where I'd be working on my own tinctures and potions in the future. And I wasn't disappointed when the door opened to a long, rectangular room with vaulted ceilings, and arched windows. Pale stone walls with faint runes etched into the foundation.

Stone workbenches fitted with embedded brass runic plates, niches lining the walls for storing reagents, and brass-banded cauldron stands filled the room. More than enough space for a small team of alchemists to work together, or one alchemist to work on several projects at once. The faint smell of sage and copper filled my nose, drawing me further into the room as if tempting me with the ghosts of potions past.

I swear, I could almost hear my own mother's voice giggling in excitment at the prospect of this room.

"The previous owners used this room to brew plenty of potions. War tinctures, medicinal herbs, and even the ocassional party topper for those nights when groups of friends needed to unwind." Greymatch spoke again as she moved through the room, admiring one of the stone workbenches fondly. "This wing has been enchanted to withstand even a dragonfire's backwash, should you misshandle a potion or two. I imagine it will handle any experiments you throw at it quite admirably."

I could only nod as I lightly traced my hand along the stone. Wards thrumming beneath my fingers, steady as a heartbeat. It was almost soothing. Like a part of me, a part of Lily, buried deep in me was connecting in this moment. Raising its head hopefully in search of another brew to conjure.

We waited in the laboratory for another small while as I asked questions about the room. Mostly how difficult it would be to alter any of it, should I want to change out one cauldron for another to gain different effects in a potion. The Madam and even Hestia did their best to answer my questions, though I couldn't help noticing the way they smiled at me. Almost motherly, as if I was an excited child finally allowed to be free. To be myself.

But once the questions ran dry, we moved on to the private quarters. We started with the with the modest, but tasteful guest rooms. They felt as big, if not larger than the room I had shared back at the Durlsey's after Dudley moved out of it. It only made me more excited for the master suite once we finally got to it.

And I had been right to be excited. A truly massive suite with rich oak floos, a private study, a luxuriously warded bathroom, and arched windows overlooking the grounds below. Carved four-posted bed already in place, and draped with emerald green hangings. "I put those up for you," the Madam had told me with a playful wink, causing me to blush heavily as I turned to admire the marble fireplace and built-in wardrobes lined with cedar.

It was truly amazing. Undeniably commanding in its own right, but it also felt comfortable. Maybe because this was finally somewhere I could be me. Somewhere I could claim as my own. The bed alone looked like it would swallow me whole, and I couldn't wait to let it.

Though as I turned to look at Madam Greymatch, I found only Hestia waiting for me, who spoke before I could ask where she had gone. "No worries, the Madam had to step outside to check on a few things. And she wanted to give you some privacy to look over your new room." As she stepped forward, moving closer to me. "I believe the words she used were "tell him he's allowed to find out if the bed is as comfy as it looks" or something like that." A playful smirk spread over her face, which grew more smug as my cheeks began to heat up.

"Y'know, for a Lord, you're awful easy to tease. Potter." She moved closer again, almost pressed against me and looking down into my eyes. God damn Harry and his short body. I really needed to find a way to fix that. "Lucky for you, it's adorable. However… Why speculate? We could always test the mattress ourselves."

At this point I wasn't sure if Hestia was trying to be my solicitor, my bodyguard, or my worst influence.

I briefly glanced towards the doorway, worried that Greymatch would walk in and see us so close. But I didn't have time to protest, or say anything really, as her hand gripped the back of my head. Her lips suddenly smashing into mine with an aggression that I really should've expected from the flirtatious tomboy. After a moment of hesitation, my hands gripped her in return. One on her cheek and the other on her waist as I returned the kiss, melting into her body.

Chapter Text

I had barely found my footing before my back was pressed up against the wall and Hestia's hands explored aggressively beneath my shirt. Nails scraped lightly across my slowly firming torso — all those extra meals had already started to do a number on me — as her tongue pushed past my lips and tangled with mine in an erotic dance. Her thigh pressing in between my legs, grinding against my slowly hardening length.

My own hands had grown a mind of their own as they moved down and gripped her ass through her jeans, enjoying the way the mix of firm muscle and soft flesh squished beneath my hands. Which ellicitied a pleasured groan from Hestia that vibrated in my mouth. I tried to push back against her, to not just be a toy for her to use, but she was persistent to say the least. Nearly feral in her desire to taste me. To consume me.

So instead, I grabbed her thighs and tried not to let out my own groan at their size, quickly bending down to hoist her off the ground. Her powerful legs wrapped around my waist quickly, even as she tried to hide a soft yelp of surprise in the kiss while her lower half rubbed against my waistline. Her nails dug into my skin more firmly as my cock pulsed against my pants, pressing into her.

After a brief moment of struggle, I moved towards the bed with her still clinging to me tightly. My own tongue doing its best to participate in her violent assault without distracting me too much from my intended goal as I staggered towards the bed. The moment I felt my legs hit the edge, I fell forwards and took her with me. My bulge grinding against her as I moved my hands to support my weight, so I wasn't just laying ontop of her. Though part of me considered she wouldn't have cared if I did.

Finally the kiss broke with a wet gasp, and she looked up at me with a lustful, predatory gaze. "Not bad." She said breathlessly as one hand moved up to run itself through my messy hair. "Not bad at all. But you haven't earned this yet." And then she tightened her legs and with far too little effort, flipped us over. Now I was on my back and she straddled my waist with a wild look on her face, short hair slightly tussled.

I didn't have a moment to complain, nor did I care enough to. Especially as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt, rolling it up and off of her body quickly. Exposing her firm stomach that carried the hint of a six pack, and then a practical, black bra that cupped full breasts, heaving with each breath. She wasn't as big as Amelia Bones but her body was framed perfectly in soft curves and hardened muscles that were just begging to be worshipped. Scars randomly kissed across her stomach and chest, hinting at a story of far too many battles.

In different circumstances, I would love to drag my lips across every one of them. But Hestia had other plans.

She quickly hopped off the bed and began messing with her jeans, unbuckling her belt fevorously. "C'mon stud. I wanna get a taste of you before she comes back. So pick your jaw up off the floor, huh?" Even now she couldn't help but tease me, slowing her removal of her jeans as she watched me with a fierce gaze. A small grin plastered on her face that only grew in size as she watched me scramble to remove my own pants quickly. Though it was soon replaced by a look of admiration as I revealed my achingly hard, throbbing length.

"Not bad at all." She nearly growled in a husky voice as she got her own jeans off, revealing more of her sun-kissed skin. "Let's see if you can keep up." She straddled me again and reached down to pull her panties to the side, too eager to get started to even consider removing them. I could feel how slick she was already, though that didn't stop her from spitting into her hand before grabbing my cock — causing me to moan softly — and stroking it to get it more lubed up. "Or if you'll be begging me to stop~"

After another few test strokes, she put her hands on my chest and got into position, squatting over my lap as she looked down at me. I swear she never looked more beautiful than right now, looking at me like I was her new favorite toy to break in. Without much fanfare, she pressed down and I had to cover my mouth to avoid moaning too loudly as I felt hot, velvety walls stretching around my bare length.

I felt her hand grab my wrist, slowly pulling my hand away. "Nuh-uh, Potter. If I'm gonna ride this fucking fat cock, then I wanna hear you." With a devilish grin on her face as she pushed down further and shuddered. A gasp escaping her as she paused momentarily. "Holy FUCK!" And then she kept going. Trying to act tough, even as my cock split her open and pushed deeper and deeper.

I couldn't stop the next groan that escaped me as my hands moved to her thighs, trying to find a single ounce of stability in this twisted mess as I felt her tight, slick walls spreading around me and gripping my sensitive shaft. And with the way she squeezed me as she lowered herself further and further, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep my sanity.

But soon enough, I bottomed out inside of her and she shivered on top of me again. Nails digging into my chest as she let out a soft whimper. Then she pulled herself back up till only the tip remained, before slamming herself back down, her ass slapping against my thighs with a wet, echoing smack. Driving my cock into her depths as we both filled the room with loud moans and then the slapping of skin on skin as she began riding me like a sex starved succubus.

She switched between battering slams that drove my length deep and caused her to whimper and shake, and shallow bounces that ground her clit against my pubic bone, digging the tip against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of her. "I— FUCK— I warded the fucking room!" She nearly screamed as she bounced hard and fast. "She won't hear us!"

I really hoped she wasn't lying but I was slowly losing my ability to care. Especially as my hand moved and my thumb found her clit, dragging screams of pleasure from the gorgeous, tough tomboy as she pressed herself against my thumb. Encouraging me to rub quicker as she rode me, milking my cock expertly.

Wait. Shit! I wasn't wearing a condom!

"Hestia!" I moaned again, trying to pushing myself up from the bed but her hands kept me tethered down. "He— Mmf! I'm not wearing a condom!" I tried to warn her, and for a moment, I thought it had worked as she stopped bouncing. Her body still shaking slightly as she looked down at me, panting. Even as the smell of our hot bodies filled my mind, trying to convince me that nothing was wrong. As if it were drugging me to the idea of letting go of my inhibitions.

But even still, I began to worry as the seconds passed without her saying anything. <oreso as she leaned down to look me in the eyes, and slowly licked her lips. "You're right." Her walls clenched around me and she began bouncing harder than before, causing her thick ass cheeks to slap down against my thighs again and again. I was worried she might break me at the rate she was going. "Fill me up." She breathed out before capturing my lips once more.

My eyes widened at her request, even as I continued rubbing her clit, as if my hand was on autopilot. Cumming in Ginny's mouth was one thing, but cumming inside of Hestia Jones was another. Except I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't bring myself to stop her. And that was before her tongue had pushed its way into my mouth again and all I could think about was how soft her lips were. How tightly she was gripping my cock.

Eventually I stopped caring all together as I brought my other hand up from her thigh and grabbed onto her breast, squeezing it through her bra. Even going so far as to yank it down so I could grab her nipple, squeezing and playing with it as she rode me with a fierce determination. I knew I wasn't going to last long, and neither was she. The taboo of our act — fucking so violently when Madam Greymatch could walk back in at anytime — driving us both crazy. Only intensified by Hestia's desire to be filled to the brim with my hot seed.

And the longer she rode me, the more she ran her fingers through my hair, and the more aggressively she tried to suck my soul out through my mouth, the less I cared about holding off. My thumb kept rubbing her clit, trying to drive her over the edge before me, even as my cock throbbed and pulsed with my impending orgasm.

But she was determined and far more experienced than this body could hope to be.

The kiss broke once more and she grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into her gorgeous eyes as she began huskily pleading. "C'mon stud. Cum in me. Fill me up. I wanna feel you cum in me, Daddy. Turn me into your little breeding bitch and pump every drop into this greedy cunt!" As the air thickened with her arousal and our mingled sweat.

My eyes widened but I couldn't deny the effect it had on me. "Yes Ma'am." I said as I let go of everything, feeling my cock pulse once more before my orgasm rushed from my balls and up my shaft. As soon as the first rope of hot cum rocketed out of my shaft, she slammed her hips down and screamed so loudly that I thought her warding spells wouldn't hold up.

She threw her head back as her own excitment ripped itself free, "FUCK! I'M FUCKING CUMMING ON YOUR FAT COCK!" As she shivered violently and drenched my length in her slutty girlcum. Every pulse of her walls around my shaft milked more cum from my balls, forcing me to fill her womb with every thick splattering of baby batter that painted her inner walls.

As soon as her orgasm finished, she collapsed against me. Panting harshly as she buried her face into the crook of my neck and cuddled into me. My arm wrapped around her, pulling her in closer as I felt my slowly softening length continue to pulse inside of her. As if trying to provide more, even after it was spent.

I'm not sure how long we stayed there, but it was probably longer than we should've. Especially as I heard a soft pop outside of the room, and a familiar voice calling out. "Master Harry! She's finishing up outside!" And then another pop. But we still didn't move, just laying there for a few seconds. The silence only breaking as an excited, almost surprised laugh tore its way through Hestia's throat.

"Well then." She sighed as she pushed herself back up, steadying herself with her hands on my chest as she laughed again. "I underestimated you, Harry. You really filled me up, you little perv~" Even as her walls clenched around me again, letting me know just how excited she was by the prospect.

I didn't respond though. I was too focused on the window that had appeared in my vision as my chest heaved slowly with each deep breath.

🜲 [SOUL RESONANCE INITIATED] 🜲
Dominion Registry: NEW ENTRY CONFIRMED
The Draconic Hoard acknowledges a foundational bond.

“Not all treasures gleam with gold. Some burn with fire, sharp and fleeting, daring the Sovereign to claim them.”

Partner Identified:
🔥 Hestia Jones
✦ “The Emberwolf” — Cunning, Fierce, Playful

Connection Type:
Primary: Sexual Union
Secondary: Protective Instinct (Solicitor/Bodyguard Role)
Status: Active

🔸 RESONANCE REPORT 🔸

Current Resonance Strength: 27%

Shared Growth Channels (Accelerated Learning):
• Warding — Heightened instinct for defensive layers and countermeasures. Wards stabilize more firmly under pressure.
• Runic Arts — Faster recognition of structural flaws and creative applications.
• Psychomancy — Subtle awareness of emotional cues, sharpens both manipulation and resistance.
• Martial Magic — Slight boost to stamina and reaction speed during extended duels.

Emotional Link: Playful Spark
↳ “Trust is not yet cemented, but attraction fuels connection. Loyalty will determine if this bond deepens or fades.”

Synergy Potential:
🜲 Low-to-Moderate. Growth is likely if roles of protector and partner intertwine.

Dominion Effect:
🜲 “Trial by Flame” — Spells cast in direct response to provocation or challenge flare with sudden intensity. (Short bursts of +15% power during moments of defiance or boldness.)

✨ UNIQUE TRAIT UNLOCKED ✨
[Warden’s Embrace]
Your defenses tighten when standing beside those you claim. Wards and protective barriers gain +8% durability when cast within proximity to bonded Hoard members.

This effect strengthens when layered with other Hoard bonds.

🜲 SYSTEM ADVISORY 🜲
This bond is unstable, its strength more spark than ember. Closeness may temper it into a reliable flame — or see it gutter into smoke.

“Every addition to the Hoard shifts its weight, Sovereign. Some treasures anchor. Some test your grip.”

A small grin spread across my face and I turned away from the window to look at the beautiful woman still on top of me. "That was… Fucking amazing." All hesitation about burying my seed in her had long since disappeared and now I was just admiring the way her sweaty, toned body looked on top of mine.

"Glad you enjoyed, stud." It sounded teasing, but the lusty grin on her face said it was anything but. "You did fabulously. And as much as I would love a repeat, we really should get dressed. Unless you're expecting a threesome." Then her grin grew wider as she felt my cock twitched. "Yeah. I expected that. Tough luck though. You only get one freebie before I start expecting lunches~"

Her leg swung over me as she let out a soft gasp from the feeling of my length leaving her. "Christ." She muttered softly, pushing herself off the bed onto shaky feet before grabbing her jeans and then her wand. Casting a quick — nonverbal — spell to clean us both up before she began to get dressed again. "C'mon buddy, don't just lay there all day."

It still took me a few seconds to recover, but I eventually pushed myself up too and grabbed my jeans, pulling them on. Though I could feel her eyes on me, I wasn't sure if she was just admiring the view or wanted to ask a question. Until she spoke up.

"So." She started. "Was that a house elf I heard out in the hallway? Or do you have a familiar that's not a cute little owl?" Though she asked in her usual, teasing tone, it wasn't hard to tell that she was genuinely curious.

I had long since decided that being honest whenever I could would be the best option with her, so I just nodded. "House Elf. His name's Dobby." A small smile crossed my face as various memories flooded my mind regarding the little troublemaker.

"Lucius. Let's speak plainly. I know what you did. But as we both know that it's unlikely it'll stick to you, even with my testimony — let's cut a deal that'll benefit the both of us. I want your Elf, Dobby."

"Awful bold of you, Potter. And what's to stop me from taking matters into my own hands?"

"I just survived a fight against a Basilisk and your Master's attempt at resurrection. Again. But by all means, go ahead and try to kill me. Especially in one of the most heavily warded locations in Britain, right under Dumbledore's eye."

"… Very well. Dobby! Come here!"

Though the sound of footsteps moving towards the bedroom drew me out of my memories and back to the present. Hestia looked completely normal, to my surprise, though I should've expected her to clean up well. Luckily, I always seemed to be slightly at odds, whether it was my hair or my clothes. So I didn't particularly stand out either.

"Apologies for that," Madam Greymatch said as she entered the room, her usual smile plastered across her face. "Of course the one day I step away from the office, and I'm needed for everything. I hope you don't mind too much?"

I shook my head, returning the smile. "Of course not, Madam. It's alright." I turned my head to look at the bed, noticing it had been cleaned up too. Like it hadn't even been touched. "I think I'm ready to sign the papers, actually. This house will be perfect for my needs." As I looked back at her again.

"Wonderful!" She clapped her hands together gently. "I'm really glad you like the property, though if I may be so bold, I was almost certain you would." Her smile turned into a slight grin as she waved her hand and several papers appeared. "Of course, I'm expecting you'd like to review these first just to be certain." And she handed them to Hestia who grinned in turn too.

"Thank you, darling. Happy to see we're both in agreement on who should be reading this." As she turned to wink at me playfully, causing me to roll my eyes even as I let out a soft chuckle. "I'll discuss the matter with the Madam, if you'd like to walk around some more and get used to the place, Harry."

"Alright." I reply with a small nod, giving them both a smile and then Madam Greymatch a small bow before heading out of the room, leaving the two witches to their talks. Waiting until I was far enough away before, "Dobby?"

A soft pop and the House Elf appeared before me, wearing a makeshift uniform of his own design. "Master Harry! You called?"

I nodded, a smile crossing my face again as I looked down at him, before kneeling so that I was closer to him in height. "Thanks for coming so quickly. This is going to be my house now. Do you think you can grab some things for me if I give you a list?"

"Of course!" The Elf trembled with excitement and happiness. "Dobby would be more than happy to do it, Master Harry! Anything for you!"

"Thank you." As I reached over and gave him a small pat on the head, hoping Hestia and Thyssa didn't hear the way Dobby began bawling his eyes out as he hugged me tightly. "It's alright, Dobby. You'll be alright." My hand moved to pat him gently on the back as I thought about my future, and my next steps.

Like capturing my Godfather and bringing him back here until he wasn't a raving lunatic with a raging bloodlust. And then finding a way to snap Peter in half before he could ever scurry back to his Master. Even if the "quest" made it seem like I could only choose one over the other.

When the hell had that ever stopped Harry Potter before? Cause it sure wouldn't stop me now.

Chapter Text

(Potter Manor — The Drakenshold)

The encounter with Hestia was still fresh in my mind even a few days later. The way she took charge, practically demanded my load from me. I thought the little daydream encounter I'd had with Amelia in the shower was intense, but Hestia was on a whole new level of her own. And God I was addicted to it. Even after she and Madam Greymatch had left, I couldn't get rid of the memories. The feeling of her nails digging into my skin. Hell, I was surprised she hadn't bruised my hips.

Luckily, I had other things to focus on to save me from the path my wild imagination wanted to take with the memories of her. Ron and Hermione were getting back from their trips today, and we'd planned to meet up in the Leaky Cauldron later. Honestly, a part of me missed them and looked forward to seeing them again. It was nice getting the time to myself in order to get things straight, but even still, I couldn't stay away from those loveable idiots for long.

"Ugh. C'mon, this shouldn't be this… Awkward." My hand messed with the collar of my shirt as I checked my appearance for the umpteenth time this morning. I knew there was no need for any of this, after all I was just meeting my— Harry's— friends after a long summer. But I just couldn't stop feeling nervous. Blame it on Harry never really caring about his appearance, at least to a major degree, before.

Or maybe I just worried about how I was gonna explain the whole "I'm gonna kidnap my psychotic godfather who's been blamed for murdering my parents" situation to them. … Yeah. Maybe that too.

Tap tap tap

I turned to look at the window, noticing the snow-white owl behind it which drew me away from the incessant anxiety in the back of my head. "That must be them!" As I quickly moved towards her, opening the latch and then the window to let her in. A flapping of wings passed me and towards the table near the center of the room.

Hedwig hooted at me impatiently, and nibbled at my finger as I gave her a treat. "Hey there, pretty girl." A smile crossed my face as I took pouch on her leg. Though when I opened it, I was surprised to find three letters inside, instead of the one that I originally expected.

One was obviously Hermione's, judging by the neat handwriting across the front. One was familiar, but unmarked. And the last one was… Professional looking, to say the least. I would've been worried it was something from the Ministry if it hadn't come by Hedwig. Still… It didn't provide me with a lot of confidence.

"Fuck it. Hermione first." As I set the other two letters down and opened hers. Inside of the letter were several pictures — muggle ones, as expected — and a very nice, handwritten message.

Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. I had wished to send these pictures to you sooner, but I couldn't get access to an owl until recently. Hopefully they make up for my lack of correspondence over the summer, but I'm looking forward to seeing you again the afternoon!

Ron wanted me to mention that he's been missing you as well, and he's eager to "see his best friend again" — his words.

We'll be heading to the Leaky Cauldron around 10am, assuming the Weasleys can get out of the door without too much of a fuss. I'm sure I saw Fred and George sneaking something up into their room earlier, so I can only imagine this might go well.

In any case, I look forward to catching up with you soon.

Love,

— Your friend, Hermione Granger

The smile on my face quickly turned into a massive grin as I read over the letter. More of my anxiety disappeared with every word and my excitement only grew. Sure it was a little clinical but it felt so much like Hermione that I could almost hear it in her voice. And I was she was just as excited to see me again as I was to see them.

I even laughed as I read the mention of Fred and George's antics. I could only imagine what they were up to — perhaps working on their Wizardly Wheezes? I wasn't entirely sure when they had started that, other than getting into full swing during my fourth year, after I gave them— give them?— after they receive the Triwizard winnings. Semantics on the proper timeline be damned.

"Gods, I love that girl." I sighed happily as I put the letter down onto the table and took a moment to inspect the pictures. France looked gorgeous, and Hermione seemed to have a great ability to take amazing pictures of the different sights and places she'd visited. It made me a little jealous, truth be told, and I quickly added "Visit France" to my bucket list for once this was all over.

Or maybe sooner… A trip away from Britain would do Sirius some good, I think.

I spent a little longer looking over the pictures before I put them back down and grabbed the next letter. The parchment was all too familiar, and I recognized the handwriting on the front. Not to anyone specifically, but they'd sent a letter before.

Harry,

I believe it's about time for us to meet. Especially since you seem so hesitant to reach out on your own. If you can find time away from your busy schedule to meet around 3pm, I have set aside a meeting room in Gringotts — neutral ground — for us to meet. Show the Goblins to seal attached with this letter and they will guide you back.

I hope to see you soon.

— Your anonymous admirer

My thumb brushed over the small seal stamped onto the bottom of the letter as if that would somehow help me identify it better. But I genuinely had nothing. I guess it was indeed time to meet my "anonymous admirer" — whoever it may be.

As long as it wasn't Lucius then I honestly didn't care too much about who it was going to be. … Ugh. Even the idea of Lucius Malfoy being my "anonymous admirer" made me wanna fucking vomit. Which is why I quickly shook the idea from my mind and placed the letter down next to Hermione's.

The last one was very professional looking. Smooth ivory, with a family crest right in the middle stamped with a silver-green wax. A faint silver rune-like border around the edge of the parchment that shimmered faintly when I tilted it. "Now who might you be from…" As I gently opened the letter, revealing elegant strokes written in a midnight blue ink. "… That's new."

Dear Harry,

I'm so very sorry for not responding to your letter sooner, I promise I intended to do so. However I was busy with family matters. As the Heiress of the Greengrass family, it's been a difficult summer. Truly, I must thank you for the visit to Florentescue's, it was much appreciated. And I very much appreciated your company as well.

Don't worry about the conversation either. I understand you've been through a lot even just over the past two years, and I'm sure things haven't been easy for you in any case. Truly, it's okay. If you ever feel the need to vent again, feel free to let me know. I would be more than happy to provide an ear for you if needed.

And be careful, Potter. I might just hold you to that promise about the ice cream. I'll be in Diagon Alley today, so perhaps we can meet up again.

In any case, I hope to hear from you again soon.

P.S. Your owl is so lovely, please give her my best. She's truly a sweetheart.

With care,

Daphne Greengrass (and Astoria Greengrass)

At the bottom of the letter was a small hair tie colored in emerald green, and a tiny winky face next to it. The meaning was not lost on me, especially after I had mentioned growing my hair out and tying it back.

I read the letter a few more times, admiring the beautiful calligraphy and imagining her soft voice speaking every word. Though the idea of telling Ron and Hermione that I'd been offered another outing with the "Ice Queen of Slytherin" — which I still thought was a silly nickname for someone who certainly didn't act like it — or even just a Slytherin in general certainly didn't fill me with any confidence. I could already hear Ron bitching about it.

But eventually I had to set the letter down so I could get ready. I'd decided on wearing some casual muggle clothes — a plain t-shirt, some jeans, and my new boots that I'd gotten from Madam Malkin's. Always best to be prepared regardless of how "normal" the outing was going to be, especially considering my poor luck when it come to trying to be normal.

Such is life. Or at least, that's the lie I'll keep telling myself.

"Y'know." Daedalus' voice crashed against my thoughts like a wrecking ball. "It wouldn't be the worst idea to bring them in on it."

… "What do you mean bring them in on it? You mean… You?" Surely he wasn't suggesting trying to explain any of this shit to those two.

"No."

My body visibly relaxed, though it might've been premature.

"I mean you should inform them about your plan for your Godfather. Or even some of your plans for everything else. We both know that Hermione's intellect, and Ron's loyalty would be very useful tools for you right now."

I couldn't help but sigh as I made my way towards the door, giving Hedwig another few scratches along the way. "Fair. Hermione at least, for sure. Ron… I don't know. Honestly, he deserves a good amount of credit for the shit he put up with following Harry around. It's just… God, even both of them are gonna be a little annoying. Especially if I start hanging out with Daphne more. … They have their ups and downs I guess."

There was a small pause before Daedalus let out a mechanical hum. "I see your point. But they are your friends. They deserve a chance, no? You would be surprised by how much resonance you can gain with them. Especially if you were to—"

"I am not fucking them!"

"Did I say fuck them? Or did you?"

The trip back to Diagon Alley had been… Interesting to say the least. Daedalus had kept leaving subtle hints about seducing my friends while also advocating for letting them in on my secret plan to kidnap Sirius and basically force feed him every therapy book I could possibly find in the muggle — and wizard — world.

The main issue I had with it was Peter. How do I bring up the idea of Sirius being innocent without also telling Ron that he's been sleeping next to a creepy fucking Death Eater the whole time?

… Okay actually, what the hell is even up with Peter?? Why the fuck is he just letting himself be manhandled by some gangly teen the — … Well. To be fair. He was basically my father's bitch the entire time he was at school, so it kinda makes sense. Even if it's still creepy as fuck. And honestly, it only made me want to snap the little fucker's neck even more than I already did.

"Eyes up, little Sovereign."

I barely had time to even consider asking Daedalus what the hell he was talking about, before I had the wind knocked out of me.

"HARRY!" A familiar, female voice practically yelled in my ear as two arms wrapped around me, trying to crush me half to death.

Another familiar voice laughed nearby. "Ease up, 'Mione, you'll kill him."

I wrapped my arms around her in return, squeezing her more tightly than I needed to as payback for nearly knocking me on my ass. "Hey there, Hermione." A soft laugh escaping me as I buried my face into her hair, enjoying the faint scent of her shampoo — almost like a mix of peaches, mandarins, and some type of flower that I couldn't quite identify. I wished I could bury myself into her embrace forever and just enjoy the comfort it brought me.

But it was a short lived comfort as she pulled away, flashing me a brilliant grin as she looked me over. "Look at you! You're starting to fill out, oh I'm so glad, Harry. And I'm sure Mrs Weasley will be happy too." Though I was a little too focused on her appearance to pay much attention.

She hadn't changed drastically but I'd finally had the time to really look at her — and Daedalus' comments about seducing them, really didn't help — which allowed me to notice just how different she was compared to the books.

She wasn't the sharp-edged, bookish girl that I'd grown up knowing. She'd softened in the right ways — fuller hips, a little curve to her waist that her old school robes used to hide. A little more librarian than schoolgirl and it threw me like a massive curveball. Her blouse hugged her breasts a little tighter than I'd seen before, and her skirt — practical as always — still found a way to make my brain stutter.

But above all else was the confidence. Sure, she wasn't going to walk down the runway anytime soon, but she carried herself with a quiet assurance that I didn't remember seeing on her before, unless she was answering questions in a classroom. Whatever happened to her in France had really allowed her to blossom into a beautiful woman that nearly made my jaw drop.

"She didn't kill ya, did she?" Ron's voice broke my concentration as he moved forward and pulled me in for a hug of his own. This time, I quickly returned it and laughed again as we embraced. Like brothers that hadn't seen each other in years. Though I couldn't help but notice the woody, spice sort of smell to him that was I was sure was his bodywash.

"Nah." I pulled away from him, clapping him on the side of his arm. "She certainly did her best though, eh?" And then my brain broke again as I noticed how much different Ron had become too. Honestly, if he hadn't spoken, I don't think I'd have recognized him.

He wasn't just tall and freckled anymore, but had actually filled out. Broader shoulders, a more straight posture, and the old gangly awkwardness had been replaced by something more solid. His shirt actually fit him now, with sleeves rolled to the elbow to show off forearms that had definitely seen some work over the summer. Whatever he did in Egypt, it sure worked for him.

"Hm. Maybe I should take back what I said. Perhaps seducing them wouldn't be the worst idea in the world."

I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to stop myself from blushing like a cherry tomato. My heart racing as I imagined what it might be like to bed either of them and cursing my own pansexuality at the same time. Gods they were fucking hot now.

"Oh, right, c'mon." Ron spoke up again, with that same voice I'd remembered. "The others got a table, so they're just waiting for us inside." As a playful grin crossed his face and I realized he was still the same loveable dipshit I knew. He just might have a few more girls hanging off him now.

My heart slowly returned to a normal pace as I nodded, following him and Hermione inside while Ron recounted his grand, epic tales of Egypt and all his glorious moments. My eyes caught Hermione's, and even though she rolled them at Ron's storytelling, she couldn't hide the smile. And neither could I. Especially not as my hand fall the small of her back and I rubbed it gently, pressing my fingers into her blouse as I enjoyed her comfort once more.

Everything felt right again. I hadn't realized what kind of hole had been left in me without my two best friends around. And I realized now, more than ever, I really wanted to tell them about my plans for Sirius.

I wasn't going to run off on my own again. Not this time around.

Chapter Text

The Leaky Cauldron was louder than I'd expected, because practically the entire Weasley family had been in attendance. It certainly didn't help that school would be starting soon—

"Tomorrow."

Right, thanks Daedalus. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would find myself on the Hogwarts Express, on my way back to school. … And tomorrow I would come face to face with Dementors, and Remus Lupin.

FUCK.

Okay. Not the time. Just push those thoughts away, we'll deal with it later. Though, I really, really need to work on my Patronus this time around— Actually, what would my Patronus even be? Would it still be a Stag, because of my father — Harry's father — or would it be something different?

"Perhaps you should attempt the spell, and find out. Don't worry. Your "core" won't crack or anything if it fails."

Thanks again Daedalus.

My fingers gently pressed into my bicep, running along the scar of the basilisk's bite that would likely never fade. But I quickly pushed it away and returned my focus to the family gathering as I was practically dragged into another crushing hug by the smaller Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Harry! You're looking so much fuller now! You've been getting plenty to eat, I hope?" She clicked her tongue, "c'mon. Let's give you a spot of breakfast. We were just about to order." And then I found myself being yanked along by my practically adoptive mother towards the table.

"Harry!" "There's the mad lad!" Fred and George spoke over each other as they stood to clap me on the back.

It was then I'd noticed that Ron and Hermione weren't the only people who'd matured over the summer, although the Twins hadn't necessarily changed much physically. Rather their magnetic chaos was just more pronounced. A mix of wiry builds, sharp features, and an effortless charisma that explained far too much about how they'd ran their business so well in the future.

It really wasn't fucking fair how hot everyone had become.

Even Ginny had changed, though I could attribute part of that to what had happened in the shower just before school ended. But perhaps a part of it had been what happened in the chamber. Her hair had been cut shorter — no longer a tangle of ginger chaos, but now closer to a braid that came just down to her shoulder. A straighter posture that accentuated those athletic curves I remembered all too fondly, while also making her seem much more confident. Like she'd finally allowed herself to take up space around me.

"Y'know," Ginny leaned in close as I sat down. "You never wrote me after that thank-you, Potter. Makes a girl thing she should save her gratitude for someone with better manners." Her tone playful and husky, but with a sharp smile that snatched my breath away from me. If we weren't in public, I would've shown her my own gratitude.

Fuck, I really hate how hot everyone was. Especially with how aggressive my desire to pin one of them down and see what kind of sounds I could drag out of them with my tee- ALRIGHT, CALM DOWN HARRY.

I quickly stuffed some food into my mouth to get my mind away from it all. The taste of eggs did very little to actually drown out the feeling of warm bodies pressed against me, but it stopped me from talking. And that's all that mattered.

Or it did until Arthur Weasley spoke up, "Harry, m'boy. Can we have a chat real quick?" And I wasn't sure if this was going to be the "Sirius Black" conversation from canon, or he was going to threaten to reducto my nether regions for touching his daughter. But I had little choice other than to agree and remove myself from the table to follow him towards a private corner.

"Harry," his hand gently grabs my shoulder as he guides me a little deeper in. "It's not been made public yet, because the DMLE is trying to contain the situation. But I felt it was necessary… Have you ever heard of Sirius Black?"

My body tensed slightly as I quickly came up with something believable, halfway between truth and lie. "I have. He was my parent's friend from school. I think I read something in the Ministry about it but I'm not entirely sure."

It was Arthur's turn to tense. "Right. Yes." His hand carefully rubbed my shoulder. "I'll give it to you straight, Harry. Sirius Black is the one who gave your parents' location to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He also killed his friend Peter Pettigrew, and he's been in Azkaban for the last seventeen years." Before Arthur put himself in front of him, looking down at me with a gentle gaze that a parent would reserve for their own child.

"… Harry. Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. And we believe he's going to try and find you to finish the job. Which is why I want you to be extra careful this year, and don't go looking for him. Please." He almost pleaded with me.

I looked up at him, swallowing everything else I wanted to say. Pushing down the urge to explain Sirius' innocence. To try and end all of this sooner. Instead, "Mr. Weasley… Why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?"

There was a moment where Arthur looked at me with a hint of skepticism, as if wanting to bring up last year when I went to save Ginny, or the year before that. But he didn't. He just nodded and pulled me into a tight hug, which I returned with a little too much enthusiasm. My head buried into his shoulder as I, yet again, cursed this goddamn height of mine and promised to look into potions for it.

Part of me was starting to think I'd begun collecting father figures like trading cards. First Arthur — maybe Dumbledore, before this whole change happened — and then Sirius and Remus. Honestly, I liked to think that James was looking down at me fondly right now, watching me find my own family and carving out a place for myself among the darkness in the world.

Which is why I hugged Arthur a little tighter. And if it bothered him at all, he didn't say anything. He just moved his hand to the back of my head and allowed me to stand there as long as I needed.

(Florean Fortescue's Parlor, Diagon Alley — Daphne Greengrass)

"Honestly, Zabini. Can you go one day without being boring?" Tracey's annoyance broke through the quiet atmosphere. "I mean really, all these damn flavors and you buy Espresso?"

Blaise barely spared her a glance over his bowl of ice cream as he brought another bite of dark ice cream to his mouth. Savoring the bite rather than wasting the effort to respond. At least, immediately. "Speak for yourself, Davis." He spoke smoothly. "Not all of us can have such an unrefined palette like you."

Daphne rolled her eyes at the bickering between the two. Anyone who knew them well enough, and she knew them very well, could tell they weren't being serious. There wasn't enough spellflinging for it to be anything more than some playful back and forth.

Though, it didn't help that Blaise and Tracey were so incredibly different from each other. To the point that she was surprised they could be even remotely friendly to each other. Where Tracey wore a black, sleeveless top with a dark skirt, Blaise wore a charcoal vest, white shirt with rolled sleeves, and tailored trousers. Tracey's auburn hair pulled into a messy side ponytail, and Blaise's cleanly cut short.

Street smarts versus Italian heritage and poise. An unlikely pairing. And yet, they were closer than either of them liked to admit. Something that Daphne took great care to enjoy teasing them over from time to time.

"So, Daphne," her younger sister spoke up with a little too much enthusiasm. Half-eaten bowl of strawberry cheesecake ice cream in front of her, and a grin that spoke of far too much chaos for a Greengrass. Damn her if she didn't love seeing it on Tori's face, however. "You said you might get to see Harry Potter today, hm?"

Even the bickering friends had gone silent, turning to watch Daphne now. A mix of curiosity and apprehension crossing their features. She had picked the two people most likely to be cordial with Potter, but that didn't change anything about his "Gryffindor's Golden Boy" image.

She chose not to respond immediately either, much like Blaise. A spoonful of earl grey and honeycomb lavender melting against her tongue, allowing her to enjoy the composed yet quietly sweet taste. And yet, a part of her could almost still taste the raspberry sorbet that Harry had introduced her to. Perhaps he'd introduce her to the exploding strawberry bits mentioned in his letter.

"Hm." She hummed softly, enjoying the ice cream a little longer. "I only offered if he was interested. I hardly expect him to drop everything for this." Even to her own ears, it fell a little too flat. Especially since she knew Tori noticed how excited she had been to respond to Harry's letter. Though she could hardly be blamed for it. It was nice talking to someone who wasn't constantly trying to maneuver through her family's political goals.

Which only made her feel worse. "Daphne." Her father's voice echoed in her mind. "We're trusting you with this." And she could only nod silently in return.

"How did the "Ice Queen" find herself befriending the "Golden Boy" anyways?" Blaise spoke up again, with a slight tilt to his head. "And really, Daphne — are you ever going to quash that stupid nickname? I swear. You turn down Draco's stupid attempt at crossing bloodlines, and suddenly you're the most frigid bitch in the house."

A soft chuckle escaped her. "I'm sure even you can understand the power of a title. On the plus side, it keeps the new snakes from trying their luck." Another small bite of her ice cream before she continued speaking. "Besides, Malfoy would fuck Crabbe if it could further his own ambitions. And I'd rather try my luck with Smith from Hufflepuff before ever touching that little ferret."

"Ugh, Smith." Tracey shivered in her seat — and it wasn't because of the salted caramel and chocolate chunk on her spoon. "The little creep, I swear. It's like he lives purely to piss everyone off around him. How the hell did he get into Hufflepuff, anyways? He'd have made a much better Slytherin."

Blaise nearly choked on his ice cream at the idea. "Don't you dare put the thought in my fucking head, Davis. Though… I wonder how quickly Snape would've killed him if he did end up in Slytherin."

The whole table nearly quaked in their seats at the idea of Snape's wrath. No one had truly seen how far the professor was willing to go — not to say he wasn't a dickhead, though none of them would've admitted it. But if Draco's stories were to be believed, then Lucius had certainly seen worse sides than any of the students.

Luckily — or maybe unluckily — the atmosphere among the group didn't last long. Broken by the familiar voices getting closer to the shop.

"Oh c'mon, 'Mione. You should just get an owl of your own at this rate. We can stop by Eeylops and get you one. Maybe a snowy like Hedwig."

"Please, Ron. I can handle getting my own owl just fine. And I think Harry would prefer if I don't get an owl that could be mistaken with Hedwig."

"Huh? Why would that matter? It's not like I'd get confused or anything."

Daphne's body stiffened, head turned towards the voices. She should've expected Ron and Hermione to tag along. Damnit. Why the hell didn't she anticipate them?

She was barely able to spare a look towards Tracey and Blaise, silently asking them to behave, before the trio entered the shop. She turned to look in their direction, hoping to catch Harry's eye.

"I'm just saying, it might be better if—"

"Wait, let's go somewhere else." Ron's voice spoke up, suddenly sounding a lot more annoyed. "This place has a snake problem." The air shifted, and Blaise's posture stiffened, as if he was expecting a fight to break out any moment.

Hermione looked around the shop, confused about Ron's sudden outburst. "What are you talking about—" And then she noticed the Slytherins sitting at their table, her own face shifting to a more hardened gaze. "Oh. I see."

"Granger. Weasley." Blaise said curtly as he adjusted in his seat to face them better. While also coincidentally putting himself in a better position to retaliate should spells fly. "I wondered when the Golden Trio would find their way here. Guess the rumors are true — you can't resist your sweets."

"The hell does that mean, Zabini?!" Ron snarled back.

Tracey placed her spoon down in her bowl and turned to look at them. "I think he's saying you gained some weight." Which was certainly not the thing to say in the moment.

Ron moved forward with fists clenched, and Blaise's hand moved towards his thigh.

"Enough!" Harry nearly shouted, drawing attention from the other patrons as he quickly moved between them. And suddenly, he didn't seem nearly so short compared to the two pissed off students.

She couldn't help but notice how well he seemed to carry himself. Gone was the flustered, almost shy man that she had ice cream with. Instead, he almost seemed to radiate an aura of authority. And when he looked back at them, her breath caught in her throat and her pulse quickened as she saw a faint, almost fiery glow to his eyes.

Harry spoke again, but this time in a more controlled voice. "Enough. We're all adults here. There's no point in petty squabbles. Ron, they have as much right to be here as us. So, please, apologize."

Ron nearly sputtered out an argument before being silenced by Harry's gaze. Daphne couldn't see his face, but with how Ron went dead silent and the color left his face, she was sure it hadn't been good. Even Hermione seemed a little shocked by it.

Or was it… Something else in Granger's reaction— Surely not.

"…" There was a moment of silence before Ron turned to look at the Slytherins and forced an apology out of his throat. "I'm sorry for being rude."

There was no response from anyone, until Daphne lightly jabbed Blaise and Tracy in the sides.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

They both said in unison, with Tracey turning back to her ice cream while Blaise kept his gaze steady and on the Gryffindors. Though with a more calm and relaxed posture.

"Good. Thank you." Harry said, looking around the shop again. "Sorry about that." His own body relaxing as the tension in the air had drained all out. "… Heya, Daphne."

"Heya, Harry." Their eyes locking, with no hint of the fire that was once there. Maybe she had just imagined it — weirder things had happened before, after all. "You get my letter?"

He nodded, before quickly saying something beneath his breath to Ron and Hermione, who took their leave and moved towards a booth in the corner. "Yeah. I did." As he watched them, as if he was expecting something else to happen. "Just uh. Didn't expect to meet you like this."

"Yeah. Me neither." Her grip tightened around the cold spoon in her hand. "Would you uh… Wanna catch up on the train tomorrow, then?" Because the atmosphere had certainly been ruined enough by now. And it would be easier to talk to him in private.

Harry turned to look at her in surprise, before nodding again. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot." That same, dopey smile appearing on his face, reminding her of their little ice cream sworary a while back. Damnit. This was going to be a lot harder for her if he insisted on being so damn likeable.

"Uhm." His voice drew her back to the present. "I'm uh… Gonna go sit with them. If that's alright. I'll write you later?"

Her heart thumped against her chest. "Sounds good. I'll see you around." And she watched him move away to join his friends at their booth. Once he was out of sight, she turned to look at Astoria, who was practically beaming at her.

"Fuck off."

"Pardon me for liking that my sister is making new friends. I mean really, who would've thought that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin would be meeting up on the train?~"

Daphne refused to provide a meaningful acknowledgement to that, instead choosing to return to the last few bites of her ice cream. Even as she felt Blaise and Tracey's gaze burning holes into her.

Oh well.

Let them think what they want. She had worse things on her mind than her friend's opinions.

Like finding out why Harry Potter had secretly claimed the Black and Potter Lordships. "It's possibly a ploy from Dumbledore. But… If there's a chance for real change, then we need to find out if the horse is worth backing." Her father's voice echoed in her head once more. And she found herself wishing for nothing more than to go back in time and say no, instead.

Maybe then this whole thing would feel easier.

Chapter Text

(Gringotts, Diagon Alley — Harry Potter)

This had been a long time coming — almost an entire summer, in any case. Meeting my "anonymous admirer" face to face. Ironically, the feeling of the Gringotts' wards were almost comforting by this point. Especially knowing that I'd be coming face to face with the unknown on neutral grounds, and I'd be far more protected than some random booth in Diagon Alley.

Or at least; I hoped I'd be protected. There was only so much that Gringotts could do. Of course, if someone killed me, they'd get the full wrath of the Goblins — financially and physically — which only meant so much if I was dead.

It's the small consolations, I guess.

"Lord Potter," a gruff voice drew my attention to a Goblin walking over towards me. "My name is Thalgrin. I've been told you're here for a private meeting. If you'll just follow me." As he turned on his heel and began walking, giving me no time to ask questions, not that it seemed like he cared.

I followed after him and adjusted my shirt to better hide the wand holster I'd put beneath it. Old habits die hard, after all. And I wasn't about to stick the damn thing in my back pocket like a dumbass waiting to blow his ass off with a reducto.

Ironically though, it did remind me that I should find the Room of Requirements as soon as possible, so I could work on my casting.

"Here we are." Thalgrin spoke again as he stopped in front of an ornate door. "You will be allowed to keep your wand, however, should you cast any offensive spells, the wards will alert us. Should we find out that you did not cast these spells in self defense, we will take appropriate action. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Thalgrin." I bowed slightly before I held out a few galleons towards him. "Thank you for guiding me."

The Goblin stared at the galleons for a split second before grabbing them from my hand and walking off further down the hall with a slight snarl beneath his breath. There was possibly a "stupid wand users" in there too, but I couldn't be certain.

Once he was sufficiently far enough away, I turned my attention back towards the door and steeled myself. Though nothing could've prepared myself for the silken voice that greeted me once I stepped inside.

"Ah, there you are, Lord Potter." Narcissa Malfoy said smoothly as she brought a wine glass to her lips, full of a deep crimson liquid that I would've mistaken for blood, had I been more naive. … I hoped. "And here I thought you wouldn't show up."

Her platinum locks fell in loose, deliberate curls over her shoulders, shimmering under the goblin lanterns like threads of spun silver. A fitted black velvet robe hugged her form, parted just enough at the neckline to reveal the creamy swell of her cleavage, and cinched at the waist to accentuate the flare of her hips.

Lips painted a similar color to the wine she was drinking, leading up to those piercing blue eyes that locked onto mine. A small grin crossed her face as if she had just caught my hand in the cookie jar. And yet, with the way she shifted in her chair to give me a better look, I wondered if I had just walked into an invisible spider's web.

"Lady Malfoy. I admit, I should've expected it would be you." I moved towards the table, taking my seat across from her. My eyes stayed on her face, though it was difficult to avoid looking at her body. Especially with how much she was trying to force my gaze. "You know there's easier ways to get me in for a meeting other than secret letters."

She ran her fingers along the glass as I spoke, waiting for me to finish. "I'm sure. But this is more fun, don't you agree? Besides, I'm sure my husband wouldn't be too happy if he knew we were meeting. Especially after you threatened him. Bravo, Harry. Can I call you Harry?" She didn't even wait for an answer. "You really had him by the balls, from what I hear. And yet you… Ask for a House Elf?"

"Where is little Dobby?" She turned her head to look around the room. "I do so miss him. Always loyal, and subservient. I almost wish Lucius hadn't been such a brute with him."

I nearly bristled at the mention of Lucius' treatment towards Dobby. "He's occupied. Though I'm more than happy to call him if you want to talk with him again."

She waved her hand dismissively. "No, no. That's alright. As long as he's in your care and doing well, that much is enough. And I didn't call you here to talk about a House Elf anyways. I called you to discuss your recent transition into being a Lord."

"Mm. I figured it was about time. After all, I survive what basically amounts to an assassination attempt by your dearest husband, I might as well start taking back what's rightfully mine. As I'm sure you can understand." I relaxed in my seat, clasping my hands together as I watched her. "Though, I don't particularly intend to bulldoze my way through politics with threats and gold."

"Then you aren't nearly the man I thought you might've been, Lord Black." The grin on her face grew larger, and her tongue ran across her bottom lip. "Ah. There it is. That's the surprised look I was waiting for. Yes, Harry. I know about your little inheritance from my cousin. Luckily for you, Lucius isn't aware of it. And now that we have our cards on the table, I believe we can finally get to the crux of this meeting."

The moment she mentioned the Black Lordship, my body had tensed up and surely a surprised look had appeared on my face, much like she said. Truth be told, I didn't know what to say to her. Even with the small amount of resonance I had with her, I could feel the noose tightening around my neck.

"My Husband as you so graciously put him, is quite the thorn in your side. And if he knew what I knew, he'd be a lot worse. Especially if he had so much as an inkling that your dearest Godfather wasn't actually the man everyone thought he was." She slowly stood from her chair and began to walk around the table towards me. "They believe that Sirius is a madman, but I know my cousin far too well. If anyone could have survived Azkaban, it's that little psycho who dared turn his back on our family for yours."

Soon she stood behind me, hands clasping my shoulders gently as she began to rub her fingers into my skin. Working the tense muscles as she continued speaking. "And were his innocence to be proven in court… Tsk tsk. A lot of people would be thrown under the rug of public opinion. The same people who might soon have a vested interest in keeping him quiet under any circumstance." Her thumbs pressing into the back of my neck.

I finally found my voice, though I didn't turn to look at her. "What is it you want, Narcissa? You wouldn't be telling me all this if you weren't going to offer a gilded chain to grasp, ready to yank me from the pit of desperation."

"Oh. Look at you. Such a beautiful vocabulary." She chuckled softly as her hand moved up, letting her fingers run through my hair. Nails scraped gently across my scalp. "And you're right; I have a proposal. One I think you might deeply enjoy. So long as you uphold your end of it."

She didn't say anything for a few seconds, though she kept scratching the top of my head. Eventually, she spoke up again, but this time in a softer voice. "I really hope you'll let me tame this mane of yours, Potter. I could turn you into quite the ladies man. Far more befitting your status."

A small shiver went through my back, though I couldn't tell if she noticed. And if she did, she didn't say anything. "Your offer, Narcissa."

"Fine, fine." She still didn't pull away. "I want your help taking down Voldemort and his little Death Eater cult. And don't act so surprised, yes of course I say his fucking name, Harry. And as enamored as I was with him before, that was before I realized they're a bunch of genocidal psychopaths. Blood purity is one thing, but that monster would sooner slaughter the entire world if things didn't go his way."

"So, what— You want to help me stop Voldemort just because he doesn't fit your little blood purity view?" I asked, my tone full of disbelief that she of all people would expect me to believe this.

She moved to my side, hand still in my hair as she looked at me with what I could only describe as incredulous. "Of course." Though she rolled her eyes after a moment. "Yes, I know how you feel about it. You're very obvious. If it makes you feel better, I'd sooner accept a m— muggleborn— into my family than stay on Voldemort's side."

"And there's a reason you're not going to Dumbledore with any of this, of course. Which is… Why?" My eyes briefly moved down to her cleavage once more before back up to her eyes. Secretly hoping that I could keep myself in control for a little bit longer. At least until I got out of here and I could handle my urges in the comfort of my own damn home.

"God, your questions are so typical and boring. I'm not going to Dumbledore because he's a manipulative old coot that doesn't trust anyone but himself. And he's far too… moral for my taste. You may not believe it, Harry, but you threatened my husband. You're already a far better contender. A third option between the two extremes."

She sighed softly, sitting down on the table as one leg crossed over the other. Her robes rode up just enough to let me see the heels she wore and a small glance of her legs. "Of course, I could be wrong. You are "Gryffindor's Golden Boy" as my darling son so often likes to mention. But surely even you can see how profitable a relationship like this could be."

There was a period of silence where she continued to lightly scratch my scalp and played with my hair. "Fine. I accept your help in killing Voldemort. And I assume you have a plan for how we can do it?"

"Oh, not at all. Even Dumbledore had trouble killing the necromancer bastard. I'm sure you'll struggle even more, no offense. But you survived once, as a baby, so I'm sure you can certainly do better with training. Especially if the training comes from a Charms Mistress like myself, who just so happens to know how to decode those beautiful, dark books in the Black Library." Her grin had grown practically feral as she talked about teaching me dark magic and curses.

I could practically feel my heartbeat thumping in my throat as I stared at her. Especially with the way she was playing with my hair, and those damn robes that showed off just a little too much. The past several hours running through my head. First Hestia, and then Ron and Hermione, and Ginny— So I acted on impulse for the first time in a while.

My chair was pushed back violently as I stood and grabbed her thigh roughly. One hand moving to grab the back of her neck as I smashed my lips into hers.

A sound of surprise escaped her throat and I could feel her body tensing beneath mine for a moment before she grabbed my cheek as her other hand snaked its way down to cup the bulge in my pants which elicited a gasp from me.

I pressed my hips further into her hand and pushed her robes up, revealing more of her legs along with the single piece of cloth keeping me from my intended target. Fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties as I pulled them down just far enough, while her own started to unbuckle my belt.

Once my throbbing length was released, she wrapped her hand around it and squeezed. Feeling the thick, hot shaft against her palm before I pushed forward again, pressing the tip against her folds. Already slick with arousal, though she still took a moment to spit on her hand and rubbed it along my cock, making the coming penetration easier.

And thank God she had, because I grabbed her hips and plunged myself into her, feeling hot walls gripping me tight. My face buried into her neck, allowing me to muffle my moans as I began thrusting into her without hesitation, my balls slapping her ass over and over as I drove myself into her slick, hot folds. The room echoing with the wet slapping of skin again skin, as my nose filled with the smell of her perfume — of snowfall and flowers blooming beneath the wintery jacket.

Her nails clawed at my back, leaving marks that would surely cause plenty of questions if anyone saw them. Though I couldn't bring myself to care as I kept pounding her against the Gringotts table. The taboo of our act drove the both of us wild. Whether it was the fact she was cheating on Lucius, or that we were fucking like ravenous animals in the middle of a Gringotts meeting room — none of it mattered. Only the feeling of our bodies pressed against each other while we chased our own orgasms.

The tip of my cock smashed into her weakness over and over, which dragged screams of pleasure from her throat, as she bounced herself against my thrusting hips. "Fuck yes, Harry! Right there! Fuck me stupid, stud!" A light sheen of sweat coating our bodies and adding a filthy musk to the air.

My hands gripped her breasts roughly and squeezed them through her robes. "Fuck, you're tight. Is Lucius even fucking you anymore?" I growled into her ear as I felt her silky walls clenching around me. "How long have you been pent up, huh? Maybe this is why you've been dressing like a whore around me. You just need a young stud to fuck the hell out of you."

Her nails dug into my back again as she nearly wailed. "FUCK! YES! I FUCKING NEEDED THIS, POTTER! GOD, GIVE ME THAT FUCKING COCK! RIGHT THERE! HARDER!" And I thanked the Gods that Gringotts had such great wards because there was no way we wouldn't be caught otherwise.

Part of me wanted us to be. It added to the taboo of it all. Though the last place I'd want to be caught was Gringotts — so I kept that thought to myself. At least for now. And of course, I should've felt weird about fucking my enemy's wife — but with every second that passed, I cared less and less. Only focused on the feeling of her hot, voluptuous body beneath mine. Reveling in the feeling of dominating something so close to Lucius in such a visceral way.

"You gonna cum for me, babe?" I asked her in a husky tone as I felt her spasming around me again, while I did my damndest to throw her off the edge into an orgasm. Every thrust of my cock shattering more and more of her composure. "Be a good girl and fucking cum for me." One hand moved from her breast to her clit and rubbed it.

She nearly screamed her head off, instead she buried her face into my neck and bit down on my shoulder to muffle it. Even as her pussy squeezed my cock tightly, juices squirting out onto my thighs and balls, even as I pounded her through her orgasm.

"Good girl!" I grunted loudly as she dug her teeth into my shoulder and shook violently in my arms. "Fucking cum for me! Ugh, fuck!" Before I slammed my hips into her again and my balls clenched. Ropes of hot, thick cum rushed through my cock as I felt her tense again. My cock buried deeply into her and doing its very best to try and impregnate the hot witch.

Where I had come to expect a resonance window to appear, there was nothing. Just our shared heavy breathing and the feeling of her legs wrapped around my waist, keeping me buried inside.

"Jesus, Harry." She spoke finally with a huff. "You really know to treat a lady, huh?" A small glare in her eyes, though I could still see the pleasure beneath it all. Albeit a reluctant pleasure. "Did you really have to finish inside? You could've at least asked first."

I just grinned in response and moved my hands down to her thighs to gently rub them through her robes. "Seems like you enjoyed it well enough."

"Watch yourself." Her glare only intensified. "That stupid, boyish charm of yours can only go so far. Now, if you'd please let me clean myself up." As she gently pushed me away with her hand on my chest.

My hands raised in a peaceful manner. "Alright, alright." Though I laughed as we separated, even as my body mourned the loss of her tight, hot walls trying to milk every drop out of me. "Sorry. Just been pent up for the last few hours."

She barely spared a glance at me as she used magic to clean up our mess. "I can tell. And before you ask something stupid, here's what we're going to do. Firstly, we won't speak of this in public. Obviously. Secondly, I'll contact you sometime during winter term, likely around Christmas. We'll meet in private to discuss our future steps, and your training." Before she paused and looked at me.

"I got it. Don't talk about fucking the life you— sorry." I raised my hands again as she glared daggers into me. "I won't talk about this in public or around other people. You'll contact me sometime around Christmas, or at least in the winter term to discuss future steps. Anything else?"

She huffed. "Glad to see you aren't stupid. Thirdly, I'd prefer if you did your best not to irreparably harm my son. I understand he's… Eccentric. He takes after his father in that regard. But he's still my son. And I would like if you did not put me in a position where I have to choose between him, and killing the most powerful, genocidal maniac we've ever seen."

"Lastly," she continued, without giving me an opportunity to respond. "I want you to restore the Black Family to its past glory." Before she pushed herself off the table and moved towards me, ignoring our current nakedness until she was practically pressed against me. "I am tired of being Lucius' trophy wife slave. A toy for him to show off. If you want to be the Black Lord so badly then you will do everything in your power to make sure we rise again."

She takes a deep breath. "Even… If it means that we must get married, so that you can return me to my proper bloodline."

It was like she had dropped an atomic bomb in the middle of the meeting room. My breath stolen from me while my heart beat against my rib cage like a war drum. "W-what?" I managed, completely shaken by her proposal rather than anything else.

"I said," her fingers closed briefly around my wrist before softening again, "even if we must get married. It's… It's the best way for me to become a Black again. Lady Black."

She met my eyes — her gaze full of defiance and yet still weary. "I don't care if you find yourself a Lady Potter, I don't care if you fuck every witch from here to Durmstrang. Marry Granger, marry the Weasley boy if that suites you — I don't give a damn. As long as you allow me to shed these chains and become what I once was."

As she leaned in slowly, her body pressing further into mine as she spoke into my collarbone softly. "And who knows… I might even enjoy being your wife. If we survive."

In that moment, I suddenly saw Narcissa for more than the manipulative witch she'd been acting from the beginning. She was a prisoner with a diamond collar — a fucked up one, by canon standards anyways — and too proud to beg, but a prisoner none the less.

And I just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Especially, and I was sure I'd hate myself for thinking this later, but especially if it meant getting to hold it over dearest Draco.

Chapter Text

Countless families stood on the platform, hustling and bustling back and forth as they got their kids prepared to board the train. The first day of the term had come just as quickly as summer had left, and it brought a new wave of first years that were excited to finally dive deeply into the magic they had grown up with all of their life.

Even I had grown incredibly curious about how this year would go. Everything I knew from the books had been different so far — and hell, I was far older than canon Harry would've been. It felt like a safe bet to assume the classes would be different too, since Hogwarts was no longer home to a bunch of children but instead fully grown adults.

Which had the extra "benefit" of making my future meeting with Lupin that much more awkward. No longer was he the man who abandoned me for nearly thirteen years, but nineteen instead. Of course, that just gave him more time to come up with excuses.

I sighed softly as I pressed my forehead against the cool window, staring at all the wizards and witches moving around the platform.

"Now what's the platform number?" Molly Weasley asked her young children.

"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny piped up, holding her mother's hand. "Mom, can't I go?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny."

The voices of Molly and Ginny filled my head and imagined scenes of the movies and the books intermingled into one.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead faintly glowed "Hogwarts Express, Eleven O'clock" and when Harry looked backwards, he saw a wrought-iron archway through the barrier had been.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowds, while a rainbow sea of fur wound here and there beneath each set of legs. Owls hooted between themselves in a disgruntled sort of way, while the air filled with the scraping of heavy trunks.

Memories that I didn't have. They were memories I would never truly have, especially not in this timeline, in its altered state. And yet, they were burned into my mind, as if I had actually lived them. Perhaps a version of Harry Potter had. After all, if I could be dragged into this world, then maybe other worlds existed too. Worlds where Harry Potter reached the Hogwarts Express as a young boy, and met the Weasleys.

Worlds where Harry Potter's parents had never died, and Voldemort never rose to power. Worlds where my parents had never died.

My heart slammed against my rib cage and I nearly thought I'd broken bone.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please — I'll do anything —"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl."

"Harry!!"

"Harry."

I nearly jumped in my seat, pressing my back to the window facing the platform as I quickly scanned the compartment. Soon my eyes landed on the concerned face of Daphne Greengrass, as she slowly sat down across from me.

"Hey, I'm sorry to startle you. You seemed occupied." There was a small pause as she looked me over. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." Before she gently moved across the aisle and sat next to me instead with a look that made me think she was afraid I'd shatter into pieces.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I'm good, sorry. I just—" What was I supposed to tell her? I had imagined events that never happened, and then remembered the death of my mother? "I think it's just nerves, y'know? Especially after last term, with the whole "Heir of Slytherin" incident."

It was then that I'd finally looked her over. Her ash-blonde hair was no longer tied in a braid, now falling down her back in loose, effortless waves. The faintest trace of gloss made her lips shimmer, even now, as she watched me with a careful concern. She wore a fitted forest-green blazer trimmed with silver detailing. Dark slate trousers that hugged the length of her legs — and provided me with a little too enjoyable view of her thighs — tapering neatly into heeled boots.

"Green and sliver, huh?" I teased her as a playful grin crossed my face. "I mean, isn't that a little… Stereotypical for a Slytherin, Greengrass?"

Her eyes softened and rolled. "Greengrass, huh? And here I thought we were on better terms, Potter. Besides, it's meant to be stereotypical. I don't know how Gryffindor works, and I'll assume I never will, but Slytherin has a lot more at play when it comes to in-house politics and solidarity between its members. It's better if I show pride for my house, especially if I end up being spotted by you of all people." Her own grin appeared as she gave me a gentle nudge with her shoulder. "You have a reputation, after all."

I placed my hand against my chest and looked at her with mock hurt. "Me? Reputation? I beg your pardon, Lady Greengrass. I'm the most inconspicuous student to ever exist at Hogwarts."

That elicited a laugh from her. Not a gentle giggle, but closer to a full chest laugh. The sound was intoxicating and the way she nearly leaned over to rest against me was ever more so. Especially as the faint smell of frosted lavender and honeycomb wafted into my nose and memories of ice cream filled my mind.

Though she eventually calmed down enough to speak, "I'm sure you believe that, Lord Potter." She straightened up and looked at me with those beautiful eyes — an impossible shade of blue, much like the winter sky over a frozen lake. "It's nice getting some alone time with you, Harry. And… I'm sorry you had such a terrible first introduction to Blaise and Tracey."

"They're—" She took a deep breath and turned to the window, watching the crowd starting to thin. "They're great, I promise. Definitely a lot to handle, especially when they're meeting Gryffindors but… Just. I hope they warm up to you. I really do. Tracey's my best friend, and Blaise is one of the only students in my year that hasn't tried to sleep with me, or sleep with Malfoy."

I chose to respond for a moment and just took it all in. Eventually, "I can't imagine how annoying that must be for you, I'm sorry. Hell, if I was trapped with Draco Malfoy of all people every day for an entire school year, I'd probably be sent to Saint Mungo's for a psychiatric treatment."

This time, her laugh was much more subdued. Still real, but not the full bark of laughter from earlier. A more gentle sound that filled my rib cage with flowers, and for a brief, stupid heartbeat, I almost forgot to breathe.

Our conversation had grown quiet after that, and we just sat with each other in silence. Sitting next to Daphne as I was, made me feel almost underdressed. Maybe I should talk to Hestia next time I saw her, get some fashion advice about not wearing grey t-shirts and jeans. And then I remembered I was sitting next to the same woman who had already offered to help me with my fashion.

And her sister had offered to help me with my hair — though I'm sure Astoria would have to fight tooth and nail to get my hair under control before Narcissa did something first. Hell, maybe Hermione or Ginny would have a crack at it, knowing my luck.

But still we sat there, enjoying the peace and quiet. Away from all of our responsibilities, worries, and the weight we carried on our shoulders.

Until the door of the compartment opened, and the voice of my best friend shattered the peace like a sledgehammer. "Harry! There you are—" And before Hermione could stop him from interrupting, he noticed who was next to me. "Oh." His eyes focused on Daphne, who didn't seem to care about his presence.

"Ronald," Hermione chastised him. "Must you really be such a brute sometimes?" As she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back into the hallway.

"No, no. It's fine." Daphne stood up with a friendly smile. "I should get going, I promised Tracey I'd ride with her. It's a pleasure seeing the both of you again." As she gave them a gentle bow, before moving past the two of them and into the hallway. She spared me a final look, and a wave, before she moved out of sight.

Hermione huffed softly and gave Ron a gentle nudge as she passed him into the compartment. "Honestly, Ron. How did you not see they wanted some privacy?" As she took her seat across from me.

"Well, I was a little busy on my best friend! You could've said something sooner, y'know?" Which nearly sparked an argument, if not for me quickly asking Hermione if she'd brought Crookshanks along.

"Oh! Yes!" She beamed brightly and pulled the ginger furball out of her basket, setting him down carefully into her lap. The cute, squashed face of the half-kneazle looked over at the both of us as her settled down into a loaf. "Oh, isn't he so precious!" She nearly squealed.

I had to admit, he was pretty adorable. Though I was a little surprised to find his almost golden eyes staring at me so intensely. In the books, he'd been more focused on Scabbers. But maybe he saw something different in me, that Harry wouldn't have had before? But surely he didn't see Daedalus, right?

"Magical creatures have a unique ability to detect those which often might fly beneath the radar of others." Daedalus offered unhelpfully.

Thanks, Daedalus. Dickhead.

And yet, the trip was only going to get more invasive as time went on. My only hope is that the Dementors wouldn't show up this time, as they seemed to be more interested in keeping Sirius out of the public eye. But I could only hope so much when it came to Minister Fudge and his… Very stupid ideas. Though, perhaps Amelia would be strong enough to keep him from screwing everything up.

It was that line of thinking that kept me from gripping my wand through the whole trip. Even as the train began to chug and churn, blowing its horn to signal its departure. The final moments between families as they waved through the windows at each other, knowing that they'd have to wait until Christmas time to see each other, outside of the occasional visits to Hogsmeade.

Honestly, it was nice knowing that this year wouldn't be so bad. Sirius wasn't going to be slashing portraits and causing concern — assuming Dobby could manage the mission I'd given him — which hopefully meant less severe security.

Speaking of, I had to tell my friends about Sirius. And as I watched the rolling hills of Scotland outside of the cabin, I knew there wasn't going to be a better time.

"Hey, guys." I spoke up, interrupting their conversation about Wizard Chess — apparently Hermione had slowly become more and more corrupted over the summer. I had vaguely heard Ron saying how it was a sign of intelligence. "I think we need to talk."

Then, I recounted pretty much everything I knew about Sirius Black and his past relationship with my parents. How he had been charged with the murder of Peter Pettigrew — I ignored the faint squeaking from Ron's shirt pocket — and giving my parents to Lord Voldemort.

But there was never a trial, at least on record. There were no attempts to actually figure out what had truly happened, beyond what it looked like on paper. Though, I had to leave out how most of my explanation actually came from outside of canon, since JKR didn't care too much to describe it in detail in the books. Sirius was just a scapegoat, and future death to screw Harry's conscious and push him near the edge of dark magic.

Once it was all said and done, I went quiet and waited for their reactions. Allowing them the time to settle in and process the entire nuclear bomb I'd just dropped into their laps.

Ron, unsurprisingly, was the first to react. Nearly jumping out of his seat in rage and shouted, "what the hell is the Ministry doing?! Yeah, I get walking up to a giant fucking crime scene and putting the psycho in handcuffs, but no fucking trial??" He began ranting in outraged disbelief.

"They don't check his goddamn wand for anything?? And he's a Lord! Or he was related to an ancient house anyways. That's— That's fucking unheard of! Just hauling him away to Azkaban with nothing more than a "get fucked" attitude!" As he started to pace around the compartment. His ranting slowly turning into background noise as I turned to look at Hermione.

Unlike Ron, Hermione was more quiet. I could see the gears shifting in her head as she tried to reconcile everything. Surely the Ministry wouldn't— couldn't— screw up this badly. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to string together her thoughts into a coherent sentence, but they continued to elude her. And I couldn't blame her. This whole situation was a mess.

Eventually, she managed a short "okay" and nodded. Knowing her like I did, that was as good as declaring her unconditional support to my cause. Whether it was because she actually believed me, or she realized that the both of us would do it with or without her either way.

Ron finally sat down, though he kept bitching about the incompetence of the Ministry, which had slowly started turning into a rant about his Father's treatment at the ministry, and how people looked down on his job. Though by this point, he was mostly quietly venting to himself. So I didn't get involved, and soon enough, he calmed down and went silent. Though I could still feel the anger bubbling in the air.

"So." Hermione quietly muttered before clearing her throat and trying again. "So, your fugitive Godfather is innocent. He's been in Azkaban for seventeen years. And they're likely to try and kill him if they can't capture him."

She turned to look at me, hands nervously fidgeting in her lap. "What exactly are you planning on doing, Harry?"

A smile crossed my face. I could always count on Hermione to be plan oriented — and I was even hoping she'd help fill the gaps where I couldn't prepare appropriately. "I have a House Elf — he's free," I cut Hermione off before she could say anything. "I rescued him from the Malfoys, his name is Dobby. In return for saving him, he's vowed to serve me — and no, I can't do anything about it — but I have Dobby looking for Sirius right now."

"And once he finds him, I intend to take him back to my house, and keep him safe." I continued talking, as neither of them seemed interested in interrupting me. "I'm hoping I can find a mind healer, or a therapist to come by and help him. I'm sure seventeen years in the worst place imaginable is enough to send anyone over the edge."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and she thought it over. "Hm. I guess that's not a terrible idea, actually. I can only imagine what he must've been like, especially if he hung out with your father — no offense. So, keeping him out of danger would be the best bet for sure. But what about exonerating him?"

"That's… Where it gets tricky." I tilted my hand slightly and a ring appeared, bearing the sigil of my heirship — an angular black shield, with a serpent coiled around a stylized dragon claw. Three small silver stars hung above the tip of the claw, and thorned vines curled subtly around the edges of the ring.

Beneath the sigil and engraved into the ring were the words "Toujours Libre" — Always Free.

"I'm the Lord of House Black. It's been official since McGonagall took me to Gringotts at the end of our second year. I believe that with this," my fingers gently grasped the ring as I felt the hum of quiet magic coursing through my skin, "and a little bit of luck, I can force the Wizengamot to exonerate Sirius. Whether by providing proof that he didn't do it or…"

"By force." Ron spoke up from his side of the cabin.

I turned to him and nodded. "By force. The Boy Who Lived carries a lot of weight, and I'm not against throwing it around if I have to. But I'd rather keep that card in my back pocket for later, if I need it." My hand twisted again and the ring disappeared in a subtle shimmer. "Therefore, I need to find proof of his innocence. Or convince them of it anyways."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and a gentle fog escaped. Causing both her and Ron to look in confusion, especially as their breath slowly became more and more visible.

Ice slowly crackled up the window, covering the view of the darkening landscape outside of the train as the air inside the cabin become colder. Hermione began to shiver, and Crookshanks buried himself deeper into her arms, peering at the doorway with his piercing eyes.

"Fuck." I muttered softly beneath my breath as I quickly moved to my feet. "Ron, I need you to take care of Hermione for me." My hand slipped beneath my shirt and wrapped around the holly and phoenix core wand that had saved me plenty of times before. The sound of shifting leather behind me and I could only assume that Ron had moved over to Hermione's seat.

Even the windows on the doorway had slowly become frosted over and the room became colder. As a black, bony hand pressed itself against the door, I heard the voices.

"Stand aside, now! Or I will kill you too, you pathetic girl!"

"No, please! You can't kill Harry! Please! I won't let you!"

"Last time, stand aside now!"

The door slowly creaked open and the Dementor stood in the doorway, staring the three of us down with an ancient, almost feral hunger beneath its hood. Its hands grasped its hood and began to lower it as it moved closer towards me.

"Lily, run! He's here!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"James!"

I barely had time to raise wand towards the Dementor as the cabin around us began to shake and my vision swam.

"Expecto Patronum."

My voice chanted out in a tone unfamiliar to my own ears as it felt like I was being held underwater, my heartbeat pounding in my skull.

Glowing scales slowly appeared along my wand arm, trailing up towards my shoulder and the cabin filled with a bright light, nearly blinding me as I tried to hold myself together long enough to scare away the Dementor. Long enough to save my friends. I needed to protect them. I HAD TO PROTECT THEM.

Once more, I poured all my willpower into the spell, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!!"

A clawed hand suddenly burst forth from the tip of my wand and reached out to grasp the Dementor's throat as an unholy screech exploded from its 'mouth.' I didn't see what happened next. Only the cabin shifting beneath me and my friends rushing towards me — and then darkness.

Absolute darkness.

"Fine then. Have it your way. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The crying of a baby.

The thud of something hitting the floor.

"Filthy mudblood." A small pause. "Here we are. Harry Potter. Such a shame you were foolish enough to be born to rise against me. But be glad, you insolent child. Your death will grant me the final salvation I need to rule this world. Avada Kedavra."

The sound of a spell backfiring and a demonic, unnatural scream pierces the air before an explosion rocks the house. Demolishing it within seconds except for a small five-foot circle surrounding the crib of a crying baby.

"Harry!" Sirius' voice called out as he entered the rubble, shouting over the roar of his motorcycle. "Harry!"

And then I was awake again, gasping for breath as I tried to sit up far too quickly, and suffered the consequences for it. My head swimming as it felt like my brain had been knocked around my skull a billion times. "AGH!"

"Shh, it's alright." A familiar voice spoke in a soft tone. "It's alright, relax. You're okay. You're safe." And through bleary eyes, I could barely make out the form of my father. Until I blinked once, and then again, and Remus Lupin came into focus, on his knees next to me. His hands grasping onto me carefully to keep me from moving anywhere, and to stop me from hitting my head should I fall again.

"Are you okay, Harry?" He asked softly, as one hand motioned to a bag nearby. "The chocolate, Miss Granger, if you'd kindly. And then share the rest amongst yourselves." And soon I had a piece of chocolate forced into my hands as Lupin continued to look at me with a mix of fondness and concern.

"Wha—" I stammered. "What happened?" I could barely remember anything after standing up. My memories were a hazy fog and it felt like trying to move through sludge when I tried to navigate them. "Dementors—"

"Ah." Lupin smiled. "I see you already know a bit about them. That would explain the Patronus spell you cast. Good thinking. But please, eat the chocolate. It will make you feel better, I promise." Then he turned to look at the other two, "can I entrust young Harry to you both for a time? I have to speak with the conductor and send word to Hogwarts about what's transpired. Headmaster Dumbledore will be furious, I'm sure."

Firm hands grabbed my shoulders and nearly hauled me into a nearby seat. Ron's face coming into view as he took up guard on my side and wrapped an arm around me, though he eventually made space for Hermione to get the other side. "We'll take care of him, don't worry Professor. And thank you."

"Harry," Hermione spoke softly. "Please eat. You heard the Professor." Her gentle voice guiding me to practically toss the entire piece of chocolate into my mouth and begin chewing.

"Thank you both." Lupin said once more before the door to the compartment closed again and I could hear him walking off with a little more anger in his step than I had expected.

The cabin was silent after Lupin left. None of us felt like talking, and I couldn't bring myself to do anything more than choke down the chocolate in the hopes that it really did have some sort of magical healing property.

But as I chewed and chewed, I had started to think that maybe it was because the action of eating it kept your mind occupied off whatever dark thoughts had been brought gasping and choking to the surface.

In the end, it did help. More than I had anticipated.

But as soon as the final bite cleared my throat, I rasped out a quick, "Dobby." And the telltale snap told me that he had arrived.

"Dobby's here sir! Oh— What happened! Is the Great Harry Potter injured?!" He moved closer, fussing over me while Ron and Hermione both nearly jumped out of their seats at the sudden appearance. "Oh dear! I will get chocolate for you, Master Harry! Those dementors are no good, no no."

"Dobby." I grabbed his hand gently. "Not yet. Please— The Slytherin Compartment. Find Daphne Greengrass, make sure she's okay and bring her chocolate to hand out." And then I paused, eyebrows furrowed. "… Find Ginny Weasley, Susan Bones and…" I racked my brain trying to think of a single Ravenclaw I could trust.

Wasn't Percy dating a Ravenclaw? "Find Percy Weasley. Hand them as much chocolate as you can carry, use my vault. Make sure they start handing it out to the students, please." I looked at the poor house elf with pleading eyes, wanting to make sure he knew how important this was.

"Yes, Sir!" He said almost immediately with a face full of conviction. Hell, I almost expected him to go find the Dementors and beat them to death himself. … Could they die? Not the time, Harry. Really not the time. And with another snap, Dobby was gone.

The silence returned to the cabin once more, and this time, I allowed it to stay. Hermione grabbed onto my arm, and Crookshanks slowly slinked into my lap. Ron kept his arm around me, alternating between rubbing my shoulder and Hermione's back.

And the three of us stayed like that until the train arrived at Hogwarts. Where Dumbledore and McGonagall were waiting personally.

And then I noticed the third person standing to Dumbledore's left and my eyes widened to the point I was worried they'd pop out of their socket.

There, in the dark of night, was none other than Alastor Moody.

Chapter Text

There was nothing that could've prepared me for seeing Alastor Moody sitting at the teacher's table in the third year. Amelia Bones sitting at the headmaster's chair would've been less of a surprise than Moody. Yes, genuinely.

If anything, this incident reinforced the knowledge that this timeline was going to be incredibly different. The only thing that could've been worse was Moody being the damn potions professor.

But if Moody was here, then why was Lupin? Surely Dumbledore had hired Lupin because of Sirius. But was the extra security really necessary? Maybe Amelia herself had demanded his presence? It surely made as much sense as goddamn anything else so far.

"Do you know him?" Hermione's gentle voice broke me out of my concentration. "He looks a little… Rough."

Ron looked at her incredulously, and with a mouth full of food, "are yuh mah??" He swallowed before she could chastise him again. "Are you mad? That's Alastor Moody, possibly one of the most, if not the most famous Auror of all time! At least half the damn cells in Azkaban are his, and he's killed probably twice as much as that!"

Hermione looked over at the table again, taking in his appearance. "I mean— He's definitely seen combat. But… Is he really all that?" As she turned to look at Ron again, and after seeing the look on his face, acquiesced. "Okay. I guess he is."

"Honestly, he's probably one of the few people in the world who could survive against You Know Who! At least, for longer than a second! I don't think anyone's as good as Dumbledore." Ron was practically beaming as he looked at the staff table.

I really couldn't disagree with him. Sure, in his age, he'd certainly diminished in power to a degree. But when you consider that Flitwick, McGonagall, and Slughorn held off Voldemort — at least for a while — then surely Moody would've been a force multiplier. And he had only died because Voldemort got something close enough to a sneak attack on him, because of Mungdungus.

Fucking Mungdungus.

Easy, Harry. Plot his death later. Preferably before he gets anyone killed.

"How do you even know all of this?" I asked finally, before stuffing a piece of sausage into my mouth. "Did your dad tell you?"

Ron tore his eyes away from the table and looked at me. "Huh? Oh— A mix of Charlie and Dad, yeah. Though dad's heard a lot of it from some of his Auror friends, rather than Moody himself, so I guess you could make an argument that it might be entirely accurate."

Hermione had a look on her face like she'd just sucked the juiciest lemon known to man. Evidentially fighting off the desire to discuss information bias with Ron.

"Well, I wonder what he's doing here. Cause he's a shoe-in for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but—" I looked around the table before pointing to Lupin. "He's pretty good too. Not Moody good, but he was one of my dad's friends. And he might've been called here because of… Y'know who."

"Huh? OH. Right. Right." Ron nodded and stuffed some more mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Hermione just looked away in disgust and focused on me. "It would make sense honestly. Bring in someone who knows — what'd you call him, Padfoot? — pretty well to keep an eye out for him. And then bring someone like Moody in to beef up the security."

"But." She hesitated. "Why the dementors then? … Oh. Well, yeah. I guess that'd be Fudge's doing, huh. But I don't see how that keeps information about it private— Well actually, maybe he doesn't want to… It could hurt his re-election though… It could help it…" She had begun rambling to herself about the thousands of potential reasons Fudge might've had for the dementors.

Except I knew the reason.

Fudge was a fucking moron when it came to anything that wasn't perfect peace.

Don't get me wrong. I think Fudge is actually a decent Minister during peacetime, whereas Scrimgeour would be a better Minister during wartime. But alas, such is life. As long as it wasn't Umbridge, I wasn't going to complain too much.

"Hello, Harry. May we speak for a moment?"

I turned to find Percy just behind me, with a woman standing next to him, who looked to be about the same age. And sure enough, I could see the prefect pin worn proudly on her chest — so this must've been his girlfriend, Clearwater.

She had chestnut hair that fell down her back in soft curls, and a pair of silver-framed glasses resting low on her nose. Her skin was a faint olive, contrasting beautifully with her cool gray-blue eyes that studied me as she smiled faintly.

I smiled warmly at the two prefects. "Yeah, we can talk. And you must be Penelope, pleasure to meet you, ma'am." As I bowed lightly towards her.

"Pleasure to meet you as well, Harry." She spoke with a soft, but confident tone. "We wanted to thank you — and more specifically your house elf, Dobby — for the chocolate. Quite a few students had been frightened by the Dementors and it did a lot to calm them down."

Percy nodded along with her. "May I ask where you got the idea for the chocolate? I'd like to discuss some ideas with the teachers in the future. Perhaps we could stock the kitchen with it, just in case."

"Oh, of course. Professor Lupin— He's there," I turned and gestured to the staff table, "helped me in the train with chocolate from his bag. After that, I asked Dobby to find you, Ginny, Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin." I looked up at Penelope. "I actually wanted Dobby to find you, but I couldn't remember your name but I figured Percy would be able to help with that."

Her smile turned slightly warmer. "That's alright. He found me quite quickly, thankfully. It truly was a nice thing of you to do. Thank you. Percy?" She turned to her boyfriend as her hands clasped together behind her back.

"Oh! Yes." He cleared his throat. "I would like to officially award thirty points to Gryffindor as a show of comradery among houses, and demonstrating a cool head under pressure to formulate a plan of help." As he turned to watch the points slowly dribble into the house glass. "I will be talking to Miss Farley and Mister Diggory about giving points to their houses as well. I do believe Miss Greengrass and Miss Bones should receive a show of recognition for their part."

I sat there surprised. I hadn't expected points from this, nor did I expect anyone to recognize this as a "show of comradery among houses" but I guess that worked to my favor. It might even earn me some favors among the houses for indirectly earning them points.

Though something Percy mentioned actually gave me another idea.

"Percy— I actually would like to talk with you as well sometime, possibly alongside the teachers. I have an idea about how we could provide chocolate for the students more efficiently, and it might uhm… Help with the comradery between houses more."

His face practically lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh! Oh that would be splendid! Harry, I'm not quite sure what happened to you over summer, but do keep it up, will you? You're turning into such a wonderful student and friend." A large grin plastered across his usually stoic face. "We'll talk in the morning during breakfast. Thank you again."

And before he could say anything else, Penelope had started dragging him away from the table back towards their seats.

I watched them for a moment, and even waved at them before I turned back to my food.

"He's right, you know. That was genuinely a lovely thing of you, Harry." Hermione smiled at me and a curious look in her eyes. "I wonder what they would've said if they'd heard you used your own vault for it."

"Or if they heard he fought off a Dementor on his own." Ron chimed in, piling some more food onto his plate. Unfortunately (fortunately?) he had spoken a little too loudly.

Neville turned to look at me in surprise. "Is that true? You fought off a Dementor?"

"Yep!" Ron grinned brightly. "He cast this spell— Espresso Patrogus—" — "Expecto Patronum!" — "Yes thank you, Hermione. Anyways, there was this massive flash of light and the Dementor screamed and ran off."

It didn't take five minutes for the rumors of "Harry Potter single handedly took down a Dementor" to find its way across the entire table. It didn't take ten for the rumors to get worse. And within fifteen, McGonagall had found her way down to my seat at the table while I tried to bury my face in my arms.

"Mister Potter." She waited until I turned to look at her, though she made no comment on the fact my face was as red as a tomato. "Is it true that you faced a Dementor on the train?"

I slowly nodded.

"And is it true that you cast non-corporeal Patronus charm to ward it off?"

I hesitated — then nodded again.

She slowly turned to look at Ron but then decided differently as she saw his cheeks bulging with food and then turned to look at Hermione Granger.

"He did, ma'am."

McGonagall nodded and looked back at me. "I hear from Professor Lupin that he witnessed a rather bright light coming from your compartment on the train. I guess we have an explanation for it now. If you don't mind, I'd like to see you after class tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am." I nodded again, barely stammering out the words. "Am I in trouble?"

A small smirk crossed the professor's face as she peered down at me past her glasses. "Now, Harry. When have I ever given you trouble for getting yourself out of it?" Before she turned and strode back towards the staff table.

"Woah, look at the house glass!"

Sure enough, when I turned to look, I could see a few more points falling down into our count. But in my mind, I could slowly see the goodwill I'd earned with the chocolate dripping away with each point.

Oh well. Befriending everyone so I could avoid being persecuted and hung by the noose of public opinion was never going to be easy. I just hoped I could do it before the Triwizard Tournament — assuming I didn't find a way to get the hell out of that too.

"Kill the spare."

"Avada Kedavra."

"CEDRIC!"

My hands clenched tightly beneath the table as an anger boiled inside of my chest like a raging beast smashing against its cage to be let free. The bars nearly gave out, and I could feel my anger about to burst before I felt the warmth of someone's hand as their fingers interlinked with mine. I looked down at my hand and found Hermione had slunk her hand beneath the table to press hers into mine.

"It's okay." She whispered softly and squeezed my hand, though otherwise pretending like nothing had happened as she ate some more. But it was enough. The presence of my friends had slowly begun to warm my body — I don't know when I had gotten so cold — and I gave her a small nod, receiving a smile in return.

We stayed like that for some time. Eating our food separately but enjoying the feeling of one another's comfort until the Great Hall went quiet and I knew it must be time for Dumbledore's speech. And time to find out why Moody had come so early.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before looking around the hall with a fond smile and the signature twinkle in his eyes. His robes were a deep midnight blue, shimmering faintly with starlight as the nearby candles glowed gently against the folds.

"Before we retire for the evening," Dumbledore's calm voice carried through the Great Hall like the settling of snow. "I must ask for a moment of your attention, please." Though the hall had already long since grown quiet.

"As many of you are aware," he continued, "our journey to Hogwarts this year was… less peaceful than usual." His eyes slowly traveled across the hall, lingering on me for a moment. "While I am pleased that everyone has arrived safely, I must confirm that one of the Ministry's Dementors boarded the train without authorization, resulting in several students being affected by its presence." The gentle look in his eyes had slowly been replaced by a hardened anger.

Suddenly, I worried for Fudge's safety. If there was one thing I never wanted to face — it was Dumbledore's wrath.

He raised a hand, silencing the low murmur that had rippled through the hall. "Madam Pomfrey has examined those affected, and I assure you, all are recovering well. Nevertheless. I have made it abundantly clear to the Ministry that the Dementors will not be permitted anywhere near this castle, its students, or its grounds again. Whatever "protection" they offer the outside world, it does not extend here. Nor is it needed."

"Which, brings me to introductions." As he turned towards the staff table with a softening voice. "This year, your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor will be Professor Alastor Moody — formerly of the Auror Corps, and one of the finest duelists the Ministry has ever produced."

Moody pushed himself out of his chair and stood, allowing all the students to see him. His scarred face twitched in what could almost be mistake for a grin, before he sat back down with a gentle thud.

"And assisting Professor Hagrid in his duties around the grounds, as well as offering mentorship to those seeking advanced guidance, will be Professor Remus Lupin."

It was Lupin's turn to stand as he gave everyone a wave and a warm smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

"Both are men of rare courage, and I am certain you will treat them with the respect they are due." He paused and turned back to the hall as the firelight flickered across his half moon glasses. "Fear, my students, is an ancient and clever thing. It hides in the cold, in the dark, and often in our hearts when we least expect it."

"But, tonight, I have seen courage — and compassion — shine brighter than any darkness could hope to smother." A faint twinkle touched his eyes. "Let it be known that Hogwarts does not endure because it's wards are strong, but because you are."

After a small beat, a bright smile broke across his face. "Now! I believe that is quite enough serious talk for one night. Finish your desserts, and please, try to get some rest. Tomorrow begins another year of learning, laughter, and perhaps — if you are lucky — the occasional surprise. And as always… welcome home."

Dumbledore waited for one breath and then sat back down in his chair as the food on the table changed to various desserts. The hall once again filled with the subdued chatter of the students and for a brief moment, Hogwarts really did feel like home.

Chapter Text

The summer had flown by nearly in an instant, and I found myself back in the Great Hall, eating breakfast before classes. I hadn't been surprised by Ginny Weasley this morning, to which I had been thankful. My meeting with Narcissa still lingered in the back of my mind as I replayed her words over and over.

"I said even if we must get married. It's… It's the best way for me to become a Black again. Lady Black." Blue eyes pierced into my soul as she spoke, as if resigning herself to fate.

Part of me wished it had been a dream. Part of me wished that Narcissa Malfoy hadn't genuinely offered to become my wife — Lady Black — as part of our agreement to kill Voldemort. Even worse, she'd admitted she might even enjoy it with the same sober calm she used when discarding Lucius, as if offering his life to me on a silver platter. As if he were the cost of her return to her rightful heritage.

Her son was off limits. Draco Malfoy. The arrogant, smarmy prick that would, in just a few short years, become the cause of Dumbledore's death. Unless it happened sooner in this timeline.

Not if I could help it. I thought to myself as I brought a forkful of scrambled eggs to my mouth and chewed on them in silence. I'll tear down Voldemort's entire Kingdom before I let him rise to power again.

Such thoughts were wishful at best. I knew he was in Albania somewhere — and barring any unforeseen changes — he'd be in that little muggle home before my fourth year. But I couldn't exactly go after him alone, and I certainly couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation to persuade Dumbledore either. Yessir, I know where the most powerful dark lord of all time is at. That would surely go over well.

The sound of rustling paper jolted me from my thoughts and I turned to look past Ron as Professor McGonagall made her way down the table, handing out course schedules to everyone. My eyes dropped towards Hermione's neckline as I tried to see if she had been granted the time turner this go around.

Unfortunately, I had looked a little too long and a gentle cough drew my gaze back up as I locked eyes with those deep, swirling, chocolatey pools she called eyes. A small smirk on her face, and a slight tilt of her eyebrow. "Something you need, Harry?" Her newfound confidence over the summer was getting on my nerves already. And not because it was attractive in all the right ways.

I held eye contact with her for a little too long before I responded. "Nope. Just looking." I caught a brief look at the surprise on her face as I turned back towards my food, and a moment later, I heard the slight chuckle that escaped her.

Hermione thinking that I was trying to get a peek at her was a far better alternative to admitting I knew about her time turner — at least until I knew the damn thing actually existed.

"Miss Granger." McGonagall spoke up as she handed the witch her schedule. "Excellent choice of electives. Though, your time might be better suited with an alternative to Divination, I should think."

Hermione took the paper and gave her a small nod. "Maybe, but I'm curious how it works. And who knows, maybe I can help keep Harry out of danger in the future." She turned to look at me with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes in response.

She let out a small sound of appreciation. "An admirable endeavor. I am proud to see our house's troublemaker has someone ready with the leash."

"Hey!" I huffed and turned away from the two of them, though it didn't last long as I felt McGonagall's hand gently grasp my shoulder.

"Only teasing, Mister Potter. Be so kind as to allow your House Head to indulge herself once in a while, would you?" Then she slid my schedule into my hands and moved on to give Ron his own.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY

Third-Year Weekly Timetable — Autumn Term 1993

Student: Harry James Potter

House: Gryffindor

It was fancier than I expected — thick parchment, glossy ink, and wax-stamped corners. Though, I really should've expected as much from Hogwarts of all places. I looked down at my schedule, curious to see what classes I had in store for me today.

BREAKFAST —

1ST PERIOD — Transfiguration Arts

Instructor: Professor Minerva McGonagall

Location: Classroom 1-B, Ground Floor

A sharp, neat handwritten note sat beneath it:

"Mr. Potter — please remain after class."

2ND PERIOD — Herbology

Instructor: Professor Pomona Sprout

Location: Greenhouse Three

LUNCH —

3RD PERIOD — Defence Against the Dark Arts

Instructor: Professor Alastor Moody (Ret. Auror)

Location: Defence Wing — Classroom 3C, East Corridor

4TH PERIOD — Potions (Gryffindor/Slytherin)

Instructor: Professor Severus Snape

Locations: Dungeon Classroom Five

DINNER —

Evening Free Period —

A second parchment was clipped to the bottom:

Hogsmeade Access Rules — Autumn 1993

All students may visit Hogsmeade freely outside of scheduled class hours, provided they remain in good academic standing.

For safety and accountability, please sign out in Mr. Filch’s logbook before leaving the grounds and return before the 10:00 PM curfew.

Notes:

• Students must not miss class for Hogsmeade visits.

• Professors and Heads of House reserve the right to revoke Hogsmeade privileges in cases of misconduct, poor attendance, or academic negligence.

• Overnight visits may be granted by a student’s Head of House for approved academic, family, or medical reasons.

Enjoy the village responsibly, Gryffindor.

~ Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of House
~ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster

Hogsmeade! I'd completely forgotten about Hogsmeade! Oh that'll make so many things easier. And it had been adjusted so we could leave the grounds whenever we wanted. I had to stop myself from letting out an excited holler at the prospect.

Now if only I could figure out how apparating worked, then I'd— … Dobby. Okay. I guess I was set if I ever needed to leave the school grounds to meet up with anyone. Narcissa, Hestia, or even just return back to the manor to check on Sirius. Once Dobby found and captured the slippery little mutt, that is. For a man who was locked away in Azkaban for over a decade, he was awful good at hiding his tracks.

We had a free period later this night, so maybe I'd catch the other two up on the plan. Hell, I could even introduce them to the Room of Requirement. I just had to survive through both Defense and double Potions in the same day, first.

Ugh. Christ.

The classroom quickly fell silent when McGonagall swept in through the door, tartan robes barely rustled. The sharp clap of her wand against the chalkboard filled the room eerily as the day's lesson scrawled itself neatly across it.

"Wands out. Books closed. Eyes front, please." As she turned to face the classroom and peered at the students over her glasses, waiting for everyone to get settled with their wands. "Welcome to Third-Year Transfiguration Arts. This year marks your transition from basic physical alteration to structured multi-phase transformation magic."

She pauses, gaze sweeping over the class — lingering briefly on Harry — before she continued.

"By now, each of you should be capable of single-stage transformation with consistency, precision, and reversibility. If you cannot," her eyes flicked towards the back as some of the Gryffindor's sat straighter, "then you will. Quickly." She flicked her wand again.

A small beetle that had been resting on her desk suddenly reshaped itself: beetle → brass button → engraved silver brooch → ornate pocket watch.

Another flick of her wand and the watch unraveled itself step-by-step until the beetle was suddenly skittering across the desk lazily. "This is a multi-phase transformation." She looked around the room as the beetle crawled onto the palm of her hand, which allowed her to show it off to her students. "It demands planning, control, and an understanding of magical interia. Who can tell me what magical inertia is?"

Few hands shot up.

"Miss Granger." Her wand pointed at the witch in question.

Hermione cleared her throat, "it's the tendency of a transfigured object to try and return to its original form when improperly bound by your magic."

"Quite right. Five points to Gryffindor." The Professor set the beetle back down on the desk gently. "Now, by the end of this year, you will have learnt—" Her wand tapped the blackboard again.

— To design and execute multi-stage transformations

— To maintain stability across each phase

— To recognize when your magic is fighting you, and why

— To unravel flawed transfiguration, including your own

"This," she pointed to the last line, "is not merely a useful skill for you to learn. It's the most important skill you can learn. Especially if you intend to continue in Transfiguration from your fourth year onwards and participate in more advanced curriculum."

She paused, looking around the room to make sure everyone had understood. "Now, you will not only focus on multi-phase transfiguration, you will also be given the opportunity to participate in two highly-unique classes this year." She held up a finger. "Counter-transfiguration and defense between myself and Professor Moody." And then a second. "Transmutative alchemy between myself and Professor Snape."

"But." She moved forward, peering down at the students with a serious look on her face. "You will not be able to participate in either of these collaborative classes if you can not handle the most important aspect of this class. Which is… Mister Weasley."

Ron nearly jolted in his seat at being called on. "Uhm— To unravel flawed transfiguration, including our own?" He read off the chalkboard hesitantly.

"Yes." Her gaze lingered for a moment, as if intentionally trying to make him sweat in fear. Before she turned and swept her way back to the board once more. "Today's assignment is foundational to the rest of the year. You will attempt a three-step transformation between objects that share a thematic continuity, but differ in material complexity."

A soft pop filled the room as four objects appeared on her desk: a wax candle, a small wax bird, a lump of clay, and a porcelain figurine.

"Your goal," McGonagall said, "is not artistry. It is stability. I will be assessing each stage you successfully perform for structural integrity, energy bleed, and magical resonance."

Her gaze settled — for a fraction of a second — on Harry once more.

"Remember: Power is not a substitute for precision."

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Now, you may begin."

The room soon filled with murmurs and shifting parchment as the students readied their wands. McGonagall walked between the desks with her hands folded neatly behind her back. Her gaze roaming across the classroom, and already she could see the subtle spread of nerves. Third years were always jittery on their first day back, after all.

She could hardly blame them after what happened last year. She could only hope to prepare them better in case something happened again — and do her damndest to make sure it didn't.

"Begin your first phase," she instructed with a crisp voice as she paused beside the first row. "Remember incremental structure. Do not force the magic to jump ahead of your intent." She looked around the room as a wave of wand movements and mutters of spells followed.

Most of the class was about where she expected them to be academically. Some of them already transforming the candle with a relative ease. Of course, the first transformation would always be the easiest. Though others, notably Neville, were struggling behind.

The professor made a mental note to ask the young Gryffindor to attend some of the department's study groups. He had potential, but unless he nurtured it properly, it wouldn't mean much.

Hermione, of course, was already finished with the first stage before the other students had gotten halfway through theirs. Her wax candle had slowly been transfigured into a wax bird with delicate curves and pressed edges. McGonagall allowed herself the smallest hum of approval as she admired the clean morph.

Though, the student had barely waited a breath before beginning to transition the wax into clay — a notoriously finnicky step — as the bird began to sink on itself. A light wave of her wand behind her back, and McGonagall could see the channels building beneath it. The way Hermione's magic seemed to work in disciplined, structured movements.

As mathematically beautiful as her spell work was, the girl had her flaws. The way she bound her magic a little too tightly at times, and if she slipped or panicked, her spell work would fracture in far too many directions at once. When she had control, it was incredible. But if she lost it… It was catastrophic.

Which is why McGonagall kept an eye on the slowly forming clay lump as the bird sank in on itself. The wax dulling, hardening, and reforming until it had been fully replaced. Two out of three transformations had been complete with a near N.E.W.T level technique in just her third year. She even had to suppress a smile. But if the girl hadn't learnt to be less strict with her work, then the next transformation — the porcelain — would surely crack.

Two desks down, Ron jabbed his wand at the candle with far too much enthusiasm. It was all McGonagall could do not to sigh as she watched the candle stretch into something vaguely resembling a melted hourglass. Then sagged, and wriggled pathetically as it slowly fell onto the desk. His magic encircled the lump of wax like a unpredictable wildfire.

Far too eager for its own good. It wanted to work. It wanted to surge and expand. But it didn't have the necessary structure to stabilize itself before it sputtered out. Where Hermione had too much control and not enough energy, Ron had the opposite.

"Mr. Weasley," the professor raised an eyebrow, "what, precisely, is your intended form?"

Ron stared down at the melted shape in horror. "… A shorter candle?" He turned to look at her with a barely formed optimism in his eye, as he tried to pretend like this was even remotely his goal.

The lump pulsed once and flopped further onto the desk like a dying fish, causing several other students to snort.

"Restart, please." The Professor nodded slowly. "And mind the flow. You are pushing, when you ought to be guiding." A small pause, "and do raise your hand if you need assistance." Before she moved on.

Neville, surprisingly, was… Improving. The candle had only partially melted this time before it turned into a vaguely bird-shaped blob. Unfortunately, the magical instability caused its wings to twitch, then flap, and then—

The little creature tried to hop off the desk.

Neville yelped and nearly threw himself out of his desk as he slapped his hand over it. "Sorry! Sorry, Professor!" He squeaked. "I've got it— I think—" As the chimeric creation shook beneath his hand, trying to escape.

Unlike the others, Neville had a more hesitant magic. It was slow to move, and often times far too reluctant to push itself beyond. But once it got going, it was unexpected strong and stable. Yet held back by Neville's own fears and lacking confidence.

McGonagall stepped over and neatly tapped her wand to dispel the half-bird half-wax creature before it could attempt flight for a second time. "Your are stabilizing your initial form correctly, Mr. Longbottom." Her firm tone caused a brief look of excitment in his eyes before she continued. "But you must hold your mental outline longer. You rush ahead the moment your spell begins to react."

His cheeks flushed pink as he nodded rapidly. "Yes, Professor! I'll— I'll work on it. Thank you." He murmured softly while readjusting the wax candle on his desk.

Her gaze turned once more, and she found something most unusual. Harry hadn't cast yet. His wax candle sat still atop the desk as he stared down at it intensely.

She cleared her throat as she approached, "Mr. Potter."

He jumped in his seat slightly, as if being dragged out of a trance. His emerald green eyes stared up at her before he blinked and turned back to the candle. He lifted his wand, and then exhaled.

The first spell struck the candle with far too much raw force — McGonagall felt the surge ripple across the desk like a heatwave. The candle did become a wax sphere but the magic didn't settle like it should. It pulsed and thrummed like a drumskin held too tightly.

Too much power, not enough channeling.

The sphere wobbled and threatened to revert with the lack of control holding it together. Harry grit his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and cast a second binding spell to reinforce the transformation. It was quick, instinctive, and surprisingly creative, she had to admit. But it was also the magical equivalent of slapping duct tape over a cracked window.

"Stabilize before proceeding," McGonagall warned gently as she watched the sphere freeze in place.

Harry nodded without looking up as he began casting again. The second transformation — sphere to bird — was smoother than the first. But again, he poured far more magic into it than was necessary. As if he had accidentally opened the tap fully, rather than controlling the flow.

Part of her was surprised, as she had never seen Harry use this much power in his spells before.

The bird formed sharply with edges too crisp, and details too defined. As if it had been etched by pressure rather than intention. Another unstable pulse rippled through the figure; Harry pushed another layer of magic into it, patching the instability with sheer will.

Power can mimic refinement, McGonagall thought, watching carefully, but it cannot replace it.

The clay change was the most dangerous portion and she nearly intervened as her grip tightened around her wand.

Harry's wand moved quicker in a tight circle, magic deepening and thickening around the wax bird in a cocoon of shimmering distortion. His magic seemed different than last year. Where before it had been an almost dull sprout that could grow with time and nurturing, his magic now seemed bright and powerful. But still uncontrolled.

Like a tidal wave of power that washed over every spell he cast, and yet most of it was wasted. Unable to be properly used without the proper refinement and technique. It showed a lot of potential, much like before, if it could be properly trained.

The transition happened all at once — too quickly — the clay lump thudding onto the desk with a heavy, uneven drop. Yet, it stayed intact. Just barely.

McGonagall stepped closer, examining the transformation as it levitated off the desk. The clay was correct but she could sense the unstable harmonics swirling around inside of it, bound by an overpowering sealing magic rather than a clean structure.

"Hmm." She hummed softly as she twisted the clay around in the air with her wand.

Harry looked up as sweat rolled down the side of his face, despite the short spell work. "Did it work?" He asked, more winded than he should've been.

"It held," McGonagall said truthfully. "But I can feel the strain beneath it. Your transformations are structurally sound, Mr. Potter, yet they're braced by an excessive magical pressure."

He winced. "Is that bad?"

"It is fixable." She corrected. "Raw power is not your issue, Mr. Potter. Your difficulty lies in your restraint, and discipline."

His shoulders eased slightly as he watched the lump slowly float back onto his desk. "Yes, Professor."

"Try shifting it into the porcelain next," she said, stepping back. "But gently."

As the class neared its end, McGonagall grabbed everyone's attention with a clap of her hands. "Wands down. Please leave your final forms on your desks. I will evaluate each after you depart." Her eyes roaming the classroom passively as she watched all of the students preparing to leave, yet Harry lingered at his desk as he muttered something to both Ron and Hermione.

Once the students had started to depart out the door, she gave a gentle wave to Harry, beckoning him towards her desk.

"Mr. Potter." She spoke firmly as he approached. "Let me say firstly, you are not in any trouble. I merely wished to talk with you about what happened on the train."

Harry visibly deflated as all the tension left his body. "Oh thank God. Sorry, Professor. I'd… Well. You know. I was worried I'd done something wrong." As a small grin crossed his face. One that reminded the professor of his father all too much.

She shook her head. "I understand, but not. Merely checking in with my student after such a…" Anger bubbled in her chest before she pushed it down. "Regretful incident." She said tightly.

"It's alright, Professor—"

"No." She said firmly to cut him off. "It's not alright. You were nearly killed, if not severely injured. Even if it weren't on the Hogwarts Express, I would have half a mind to burst into the Minister's Office and demand an explanation. And do not think I still won't, even if the Headmaster has urged me not to."

Her hands clenched into fists as she took a deep breath. "I wish I could have been there to assist. But I am thankful that Mr. Lupin was there to make sure no one was injured. And I hear that you performed some impressive spell work on the train. The Patronus charm, though incorporeal, is far beyond what's expected of a Third Year. Even most Hit-Wizards have struggled with such a spell."

"Though," her eyes lingered on the porcelain phoenix resting on his desk, "I can certainly see why you were capable of casting it."

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, again. I just… I've been practicing with my magic a lot more over the summer, and I think it's affecting me a little more than usual. I promise I'll work on it, Professor."

She nodded slowly and turned her gaze back to him. "I understand. From what I know of your…" The anger bubbled again. "Previous living arrangements, I'm sure you had little time to truly practice your control." As she waved her wand, causing all of the transfiguration attempts to slowly float through the air and land on her desk.

"However, I think it would be best if we met outside of class personally, Mr. Potter." McGonagall concluded. "To train your power into discipline, and ensure stability before you attempt any advanced collaborative coursework. I believe once a week for about an hour, perhaps two, should be good enough. And I will make sure to schedule it around your Quidditch trainings — you do wish to continue Quidditch, of course?"

"Yes!" He said quickly before he winced. "Sorry. Yes, Professor. It's… It's a lot of fun. And I want to win the House Cup for us again this year."

She nodded again and reached out to gently pat his cheek. "Good lad. Now, a word of warning — Professor Moody will likely ask to speak with you as well. I know he is feeling his own regrets about the Dementor, and he has never been one to shy away from admitting fault." There was a small pause before she chuckled. "And he might attempt to recruit you. Now, if there's nothing else, you're free to leave."

Harry swallowed and turned to move towards the door.

"And Harry," she called out.

He stopped and looked back at her. "Yes, Professor?"

"…" She stared into those eyes and suddenly she was looking at a young Lily Evans with far too much conviction in her to be held back by anything. "… Are you happy?"

He smiled brightly and nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Professor." Then he turned and left the room, leaving her alone in the silence of the classroom.

She took a moment to compose herself before she turned back to her desk, looking over the different attempts.

Hermione's porcelain figure of a small cat remained pristine. Perfectly balanced, and flawless in its symmetry.

Ron's resembled a porcelain chicken with arthritis.

Neville's had partially melted mid conversation, giving the toad figurine a mournful tilt.

Harry's final attempt — the phoenix — was stunning to the eye. Sharp, elegant, beautifully proportioned. But when McGonagall touched her wand to it, the instability rang up her arm like a vibration.

So much power forced into such delicate magic.

He can brute-force a perfect shape, she thought, but he cannot sustain it without overexertion.

She turned back to look at the door with a thoughtful expression as she tried to reconcile what she knew about Harry Potter with what she had seen today. Her gaze slowly turned towards the ceiling. "I hope I've done enough to protect him, Miss Evans. But he's got your spirit. And James' inclination to get into trouble."

"I just hope you're happy, wherever you are."

Chapter Text

Transfiguration had been… an intense first day back, to say the least. I guess I should've expected us to jump right into the thick of it on day one, especially when Hogwarts was no longer a school for children, but I just hadn't. Not that I wasn't pleasantly surprised by how fun it had been to learn magic.

But it had still been tiring, and reinforced my desire to do extra work during my spare time. I needed to work on my control, and hopefully find a way to get my Transfiguration affinity raised higher.

[Transfiguration] — 14%
The craft of reshaping matter, form, and truth. A legacy dulled, yet not extinguished. It waits for you, Sovereign. Like a crown left on a forgotten throne waits for a new King to take its place.

I looked over the small screen before me as I followed my fellow Gryffindors down to the greenhouses. Fourteen percent wasn't terrible, especially compared to my Alchemy affinity — ugh, Mom would kill me if she knew — but it wasn't great either. I needed to work on it. Or find someone to build Resonance with that could help me.

But the who the hell would I even talk to?? … Honestly Hermione might be my best bet. She was great at damn near everything. Except Divination but… who could really blame her for that? It helped that she had become really pretty since I last saw her. Sure, I had considered pursuing her romantically before the summer but… It's one thing to build a list of potential fuckbuddies or harem partners, and another to actually pursue them. Especially when it's one of your best friends.

"Good morning, Gryffindor!" A cheery voice called out, drawing me away from my plights on which girl I should try and bed next. "And welcome to Greenhouse Three!" Professor Sprout smiled brightly at all of us as we filed in one after another. "I hope you're all well rested for your first full day back."

The interior of the greenhouse was a lot different than the Transfiguration classroom. It was warm and humid and almost comforting in its own way, like a nice blanket wrapped tight around your body. As I looked around the walls of the building, I could tell there had been plenty of charm layers wrapped around it in order to provide the perfect environment for the plants.

But even now, I could feel the faint icy chill of the Dementors in the distance. I didn't think anyone else could feel it, based on their reactions, but I could. As if no matter how warm the greenhouse was, I couldn't escape the feeling of frosty fingers squeezing between my ribs and clawing their way towards my heart.

Surely the feeling would get worse as time went on, and the Dementors slowly learned their boundaries and what all they could get away with. Hell, even just the prolonged presence would surely be enough for the other students to feel it too. Assuming I couldn't convince Fudge to fuck off and get rid of the demonic soul-suckers, I'd need to discuss my plans with Percy.

"Harry, I sincerely apologize." Percy's face filled my mind. "I know I said we'd talk this morning, however I've got some pressing business to attend to. I'll find you during lunch and we can discuss your idea. Alright?" And before waiting for an answer, the Prefect had scurried off towards the teacher's table.

Penelope sure was a lucky girl for getting to date the walking embodiment of ADHD and academic ambition. Not that I had much room to make fun of Percy in that regard.

Professor Sprout lightly clapped her gloved hands together, sleeves already rolled up. "Now then, today I figured we'd start with an easy project, for which you all can work together in teams of two!" Her eyes scoured the room briefly as she took a mental headcount. "Perhaps a team of three if we're a little bigger than usual."

She grabbed a nearby pot and then moved around the room slowly, allowing us all to see it. "These are Whisperwill seedlings." She released a small amount of magic into the pot as small vine-like plants appeared over the edge and began to slowly reach to towards her. "And as you can see, they're plenty eager to get to know you."

"However," she laughed softly, "you have to be careful with them. They're a gentle sort. They prefer quiet, and calm. Trying to force your magic, or acting too chaotically will make them react in kind." She continued to move around the greenhouse to give everyone a good view of them, while I tried to ignore Hermione's eyes on me. Surely we had both been thinking the same thing. Chaotic magic, just like Transfiguration.

I could only hope it wouldn't be as bad this time.

Once everyone had gotten a good look, Sprout moved back towards the front of the greenhouse. "Now if you could all please sort yourselves into groups and get started, I will be available to answer any questions. And don't worry about killing these plants. They're quite durable. Just focus on controlling your magic and consider this class more of a nice, slow break before the rest of the year."

And with that, everyone began to sort into their own little groups.

I had started to make my way towards Hermione when Neville, of all people, stopped me. "H-hey, Harry." A small but awkward smile on his face as he stammered slightly. "Uhm— I was wondering if you'd be open to working together for this class? It's okay if you don't! Really! I just… Y'know, I was just—"

"Sure, Nev." I smiled brightly in return as I reached out to gently rub his shoulder. "Hell, I'm sure I could use all the help you can give for something like this." The smile turned into a slight grin as I watched his face flush pink.

Neville hadn't changed as much as Ron and Hermione, but he had changed. A little less awkward now, and he wasn't hunching over to try and hide himself. I made a mental note to get him more involved with our little group, and potentially restart the DA earlier.

And maybe convince his Gran to get him a new wand. As my eyes flicked down briefly towards the bottom half of his robes, where he had no doubt stashed his father's wand.

Over his shoulder I could see Ron and Hermione had paired up, already with their own pot in front of them.

"Remember, we need to be more gentle with them, Ron."

"I know, Hermione! Look, I got this. I'll master it first try."

"Oh really? Go ahead."

I couldn't help but laugh, though I tried to muffle it as best I could as I turned back to Neville. "Did you grab a pot already or should I go get us one?"

"Oh! I got one, no worries." He returned my smile with a grin of his own as he moved back towards the table. "Did you know, the leaves are actually bioluminescent when they're properly nurtured?" He asked, though I was sure it wasn't really a question meant to be answered. Honestly, I figured Neville just wanted someone he could ramble to.

And hell, Neville could the opportunity in stride. He almost never stopped talking in an excited tone as he walked me through the process of caring for and nurturing the plant. "You don't want to grab it. You can grab the pot, like the Professor did, but never touch the plant itself until it consents." His hand stretched out and hovered over the plant gently. "Just like this. They're sensitive to warmth but they're more attuned to your magic." The soil almost seemed to vibrate gently in response to his presence.

He looked at me and then back to the plant. After a brief moment of hesitance, I reached out just like he had. "There you go." He grinned brightly once more. "Now release your magic, slowly. They're still seedlings, we don't want to overwhelm them. Like a kitten, or maybe a foal."

I spared him a glance and then sighed. "Alright." I turned back to the plant, slowly wrapping a noose around my own magic to keep it in check. Deep breath in, slow exhale, as I let the magic gently push itself through the tips of my fingers and into the soil beneath. The plant reacted quickly, slowly reaching upwards through the air and towards my hand. As if it were a baby trying to grasp its parent's fingers for the first time.

"There you go. Just like that. Once they know your magic, they'll allow you to touch them. Honestly, that's how it goes with a lot of plants — that's even how Master Herbologists handle the more dangerous breeds, like Venomous Ventaculu! Though they're still a little bitey sometimes." Neville slowly moved his hand down towards the vines and allowed them to twist around his fingers as well. "Now we're gonna try repotting them."

Off at the other end of the table, I could hear Ron complaining. "Oh, of course you do it perfectly on your first try!" Followed by a huff of annoyance.

"It's not that hard, Ron, really. You just need to be more gentle with them." Hermione rebutted. "Like if you're handling Crookshanks, instead of Scabbers. Though you should really be more careful with the poor thing. He seems like he's having a hard time lately."

"Well maybe if your demonic furball wasn't constantly trying to eat him—" A short cough from the Professor stopped Ron in his tracks and his cheeks turned a deep red. "Sorry Professor." He turned back to the plant and tried again, to much greater success this time.

"There you go!" Hermione cheered softly as she watched. "See? That wasn't so bad."

I couldn't help but smile as I listened to the two of them working together before I eventually turned back to watch as Neville gently pulled the plant from its pot and cradled it carefully. But in the corner of my eye, I could see Hermione watching us with a faint look of worry etched across her face. I could hardly blame her.

The rest of the lesson passed with an easy rhythm that I don't think I'd felt in years. Neville kept up a running commentary — half nervous rambling, half genuine expertise — and even though I struggled to follow every technical term, his enthusiasm made the whole thing feel… grounded. Hell, by the time we'd finished repotting the Whisperwill, my shoulders had loosened, and a lot of the tension in my body had left.

Even Ron had finally managed to charm his seedling into settling without flinching away, which earned him a proud pat from Hermione and even a beaming nod from Sprout.

For a moment, I could almost forget the cold pressing in at the edges of the castle.

But only almost.

When Sprout dismissed for for lunch, I could always see Percy waiting near the doors to the Entrance Hall with a tight posture, and serious expression. Perhaps his first day back as Prefect hadn't been as neat as my own.

A soft sigh escaped me before I gave Neville a quick smile and a promise that we'd partner up again, before I made my way towards Percy — and the storm I could already feel brewing.

Before I could even ask Percy why he looked like he'd only pass 11 out of 12 O.W.Ls, I'd been practically dragged off by the older student. And soon enough, I was in the Charm's classroom with Percy, McGonagall, Flitwick, and even Lupin — who spared me a small smile before going back to sipping something from a mug. Coffee, I think.

"Hello, Mister Potter." McGonagall spoke firmly as she nodded in my direction. "I'm glad you could join us. Mister Weasley here," she gestured to Percy, who instantly straightened up, "has informed us that you'd like to talk about the Dementors. He said you have some ideas on how we could handle them?"

"… Pardon— Is this some kind of "Anti-Dementor" council we have going on here?" I looked at each of the teachers (and Percy) in confusion. "Or is it more of an "Anti-Fudge and his stupid policies" thing?"

Flitwick chuckled but then tried to hide it in his tea as he raised the cup to his mouth.

"Of sorts." McGonagall replied as her eyebrow twitched, and her lips curled into a small smile. "Our priority is, as always, the safety of the students. And of course as the most… Accident prone student in our entire school, we figured it wouldn't hurt to hear your suggestions."

"The most? Are we forgetting about Neville? Or Ron? Or Malfoy when he gets too mouthy— Sorry. Regardless, I'm flattered to be considered." I put on my best look of pure innocence as I smiled sweetly.

McGonagall raised her wand as two glasses and a bottle of some sort of liquor flew over to her desk, and poured itself into the glasses. "I'm sure." She passed Flitwick one glass and took the other. "Now, let's discuss those ideas of yours before we get too far ahead, hm?"

I nodded and quickly grabbed a seat atop one of the desks as I looked between the teachers. "I think we should teach the students the Patronus charm."

Flitwick nearly choked on his drink and Percy rushed to help him. McGonagall just stared at me in dead silence before she poured more liquor into her glass — and I swear, some of her hair got more gray — while Lupin just took another sip of his coffee.

"I'm serious." I tried to ignore the twitch on Lupin's face as we no doubt thought of the same joke that our favorite little furry rascal would've made. "I know it's a complicated charm to cast, but I think we can offer it as a side class or club or something. I'm sure if someone qualified was leading it, like Professor Flitwick," I got a small cough in reply from the half-goblin, "then we'd see a lot more success."

"Even if the spells are non-corporeal. It's not like I'm expecting a first year to summon an entire patronus. But maybe if they can manage a little bit of it, it'll be enough to help with the Dementors." I looked between each of the teachers with a steady look on my face.

The classroom was silent for several seconds before Flitwick finally composed himself. "I'm— cough— flattered, Potter." He cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. "But what you're asking for is… Even if it's doable, which I'm not saying it is, it's certainly not a quick process. Maybe some of my seventh years could manage it in a few months but…"

"Well that's actually why I had another idea." I cut him off. "Or well— Professor Lupin did, sort of."

It was the werewolf's turn to look surprised as his head shot up and he looked between everyone. "W-what? I did? What idea was this, Harry?" He turned back to me with a small, pleading look on his face as he begged for me to drag him out from beneath the bus.

"Remember the chocolate you gave me on the train? You said it would help with the Dementors, which it did, so thank you." I smiled brightly at him before I continued. "But, I was thinking, it's probably not feasible to continuously feed the students bars of chocolate. So… Why don't we just teach the House Elves to make hot chocolate? That way they can serve it during meal times."

Lupin's eyes widened and I could hear the gears turning in his skull. "Oh! That's— Harry, that's brilliant!" Though he quickly composed himself and tried to act normal once more. "I mean— Yes." Cough. "Good thinking, Harry."

"Hot chocolate…" McGonagall muttered curiously as she took a sip from her glass. "It's actually not a terrible idea at all, Harry. I'll make sure to bring it up with the Headmaster once we're done here. Percy," she turned to the Prefect, "you've been uncharacteristically quiet. What are your thoughts?"

The Prefect had a look of concentration on his face for a moment before he spoke up. "I think these are all good ideas, Professor. I believe the Patronus lessons might be closer to fanfare than an actual solution, at least for the first to third years — no offense to your skills, Harry — however I think at least the OWL and NEWT students will benefit from it. But that doesn't mean we should limit who can participate. If someone can match Harry's inexplicable skill at casting complex charms, then they should be given the chance."

"Quite right!" Flitwick beamed. "I believe we should approach the lessons as a chance for inter-house cooperation above all. After all, Hogwarts should set a united front in the face of Fudge's… questionable decisions. And I believe it would make the younger students feel more comfortable in the end."

It was at this point I just sat back and let the teachers (and Percy) discuss the logistics of the two ideas I'd provided. It was like I'd just lit a match and now they were dousing it with as much gasoline as they could manage. Though Flitwick's idea about "inter-house cooperation" had me thinking— I should look into setting up the DA early.

As much as I hated the idea, people needed to learn how to defend themselves. And we weren't always going to have someone like Alastor Moody teaching us. Though, I fully intended to make sure we never had anyone like Umbridge again. Even if I needed to resort to unsavory means of ensuring it.

"Well-spoken, Sovereign." Daedalus' voice filled my ears, nearly causing me to jump. "You should fight with tooth and nail to protect your Hoard. Even if it means a pre-emptive strike on those who intend to do you harm."

Pre-emptive strike…

'You mean I should go after Voldemort.'

I could almost feel Daedalus' sharp grin. "Not quite yet, I think. But why land in his lap on his terms, when you could kick in his door and swallow him whole while he is weak? But first you need to survive the school year and grow your Hoard. For you are still a Wyrmling surrounded by Leviathans."

'Right.' I sighed internally as I mulled everything over — all the shit I had to do to survive. To thrive. To win. 'We'll come back to that later then.' As I returned my focus to the teachers, who were now well underway in discussing the exact specifics of a strongly worded letter to Fudge.

"If I may," I interrupted, "I actually have someone who might be able to help us be a little more formal with the Minister." I watched as they all turned to me with curious looks and I returned it with a fierce grin of my own. "I think we should ask the Elves for lunch in the meantime. Don't you?"

Chapter Text

If you had told me Moody's classroom would look normal on the first day, I don't think I'd have believed you.

But sure enough when we entered the classroom, it didn't look like something you'd expect from a mad man gone crazy. Nothing was on fire, upside down, or exploding. It almost looked… ordinary.

I'd almost thought I entered the wrong room, if not for the imposing figure of Alastor Moody — One-Legged Auror himself — standing in the far back. His eyes locked onto us dangerously as we filed in, as if he was expecting Voldemort to sprout from beneath our robes and attack him.

He didn't even speak until all of us had sat down.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

He roared and nearly half the class jumped out of their skin, myself included.

His magical eye flicked rapidly in its socket as he moved from his protective corner towards the blackboard. "Hm. I should expect no less from students who were taught by a stuttering coward and a stupid fraud who couldn't piss his pants without a photo op nearby." His boots thudding like blunt warnings not to mess around.

He pulled his wand from his jacket roughly and tapped the board as the chalk began to write itself.

DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS
PROTECTION AGAINST EVIL AND VIGILANCE OF LIGHT

CORE COMPETENCIES OF WIZARDING COMBAT

1. Situational Awareness

2. Spell Regulation Under Stress

3. Counter-Curses & Counter-Charms

4. Disarming & Disruption Techniques

5. Fear Respond Conditioning

THE DARK ARTS FIGHT DIRTY.

SO WILL YOU.

Once the chalk had finished writing he turned to the class once more. "Before we start," Moody rasped, "this class is not meant to be fun or safe. I've been tasked with ensuring your continued survival for at least another year. I will be doing that my way."

His magical eye swung around rapidly to land on me. "Perhaps if you had a competent instructor before me, this would not be so necessary."

I had to resist the urge to sink into the floor as the last two years worth of memories flooded back to me.

"To that end," he looked around the room, "I will not tolerate anyone fooling around during my lesson — MISTER FINNEGAN." He roared once more as his eyes turned to the student in question. "So help me lad, if I see you pull that snapping jelly out of your pocket during this class."

Seamus looked like he might defend himself for all of two seconds, before he decided against it and gave Moody a hesitant nod. "Y-yessir."

"Good lad." He growled and held his wand at the ready. "Any questions? No? Good. Everyone up." As soon as everyone got out of their seats, the desks scraped and slid magically to the walls.

"Pair off! Today is situational awareness. Basic disarming. Nothing fancy." He began to stalk through the class like an angry, heavily armed bulldog. "Which means if you let your guard down, I will break it."

Hermione paired with me immediately, muttering excitedly about how different this year would be. I could only admire her ability to constantly see the good in everything, and swallow the urge to mention I was half expecting Moody to throw a crucio at me sometime during the lesson.

"Start when ready!"

A chorus of "Expelliarmus!" echoed through the room.

Hermione got me first — clean, neat, textbook perfect.

The feeling of my wand being ripped from my hand was… Strange. Like there was a tether between the core and my heart that had been temporarily snipped, before an invisible force yanked it from my hand and towards the caster.

It felt… uncomfortable. Like I was defenseless— and I guess I was.

"Now you see why powerful wizards practice Wandlessly." Daedalus spoke up in a soft tone. As if he too had felt the severing like I had. "And why it's even more important for someone like you to master it. No Sovereign should be without their weapon."

There was that term again. Sovereign. He said it a lot — always when referring to me. I had tried asking him about it over the summer. To no avail.

Hermione smiled warmly as she handed my wand back to me, unaware of the cold pit hollowing itself behind my ribs. I forced myself to return the smile.

My spell hit her next — but it was too strong. Too sharp. My expelliarmus tore through the air like a wolf lunging for the throat. I felt the cord snipping in two as her wand flung itself through the air towards me. I felt my own magic reaching out, biting. Only to hit a sudden, and absolute wall. As if magic itself had slapped my hand away from the cookie jar.

"No." Daedalus spoke once more. "They do not feel this like you do. You are more attuned to your own magic — and that of others — because of your unique circumstances. Hence your magic acting… Erratically today. But fret not. It will normalize soon enough, as you cast more."

It suddenly felt like he was right behind me, his soft breath cascading down my neck while a clawed hand slowly inched its way down my forearm and wrapped itself around my own grip. "Here." He whispered softly. "Allow me to assist you, Sovereign."

The next spell felt… Natural. Instead of a ravenous beast snapping its jaws and thrashing against the leash-turned-noose around its neck, it had become something akin to a playful tug-of-war between a puppy and its owner.

"Very good." Daedalus spoke with a grin before his presence disappeared once more and I couldn't help but feel cold.

Alone.

A crash shook the room, startling me out of my thoughts.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Moody roared as a desk flew through the air and obliterated itself against a wall near Seamus.

"What did I tell you about that blasted jelly, Finnegan! Keep casting!" The poor boy squeaked out an apology.

Moody whirled in place, "Weasley! Situational awareness!" A stinging hex blasted past Ron's ear. "Five points to Gryffindor for not getting hit!"

Neville nearly tripped trying to save his own wand as another curse flew overheard and Ron tried his best not to wheeze too loudly.

I really had to question whether this would've been a worse alternative to Crouch Jr casting the killing curse in front of a bunch of teenagers on a spider. And it worried me a lot that I didn't actually have an answer for that.

"He's barking mad…" I heard Ron mutter nearby, and then a quick "ouch!" as a stinging hex caught him in the side.

Hermione and I shared a quick glance and silently agreed that neither of us wanted to be the next target as we quickly returned to casting Expelliarmus charms at each other. Though that was never going to be enough for the insane professor, as Hermione yelped and nearly flung herself out of the way of another hex.

"Good job, Granger!"

Yeah. Maybe the disguised Death Eater would've been a better option. I could only be so thankful that he retired, as I'm sure the Auror Recruits had it a lot worse than us when he had been in charge of training.

And it only got worse as Moody's interrogation began mid-chaos.

"WEASLEY! Importance of a Shield Charm!"

Ron dodged a hex that traveled a little too far down by sheer, terror-fueled luck and yelped. "Uh— Protects against curses?"

"And physical attacks! But not every spell! GRANGER! — three spells that bypass a shield!"

Hermione quickly rushed across the room to return my wand as she called out, "Avada Kedavra, Fulmen Serpens, and Ventaxis, sir!"

"Correct! Killing Curse ignores shields entirely. Only distance and objects can save you. Fulmen Serpens goes around shields. Five points!"

Hermione beamed brightly, even as her wand went flying across the room and into my hand. It was cute how easily she became an excited puppy when a teacher gave her compliments or points.

Moody suddenly swung towards Neville. "LONGBOTTOM!! One way to modify a shield, and its downsides!"

Neville paled instantly, and he nearly looked like he might faint. “P-Protego Tenuis! It… uhm… protects all sides but makes it thinner… w-weaker?”

"Correct!" Moody's magical eye rotated to me as his wand angled toward a nearby chair. "POTTER! And why does it get thinner?" His hand twitched as if prepared to launch the chair at my face.

I nearly flinched out of instinct. "Because you're not increasing the spell's power. You're just stretching the same shield over more area."

His scarred face twitched into something like approval. "Correct. Five points."

The class had actually been fun — even when I considered all the furniture chucking and random casting — especially compared to the first two years. Of course, Lupin's class would've been nice too. But I could hardly complain about learning defensive magic from Alastor Moody of all people.

"Can't believe we have potions next." Ron groaned as he packed his stuff away. "And it's a dual class with the Slytherins as well. Ugh."

Hermione spared him a small glance. "C'mon, Ron. Not all Slytherins are bad." Even though part of me knew she was saying it because of my obvious connection to Daphne Greengrass.

Ron had been about to retort when Moody's gruff voice cut across the room. "Potter. Stay."

Everyone stopped and stared at me, and I could hardly blame them. This would be the second time today that the Gryffindor's had watched me get stopped by a teacher after. To them, it would seem like my penchant for trouble had only gotten worse over the summer.

Maybe it had.

Ron clapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "good luck mate. If he kills you, I'm inheriting your broom."

Hermione gave me a sympathetic wince, and a soft, "try not to antagonize him, please. We'll wait for you down the hall."

Before they — and the rest of the class — quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving me alone with the grizzled veteran and whatever fresh hell awaited me.

Once everyone left, the door shut and the bolt slide into place. If I focused hard enough, I could see the faint shimmering of a ward crackling into place across the doorway.

Suddenly the room felt several sizes too small.

I turned my focus back to Moody and found him pacing across the room. Limping far faster than he should've been able to as he growled angrily. "Dementors." He spat the word out like poison. "On the fucking train. A train full of fucking students!" He roared and swung his wand sharply, causing a chair to fling itself across the room and land neatly. "I should hex Fudge into St. Mungo's for the rest of his miserable life for it."

He stopped pacing and sat down with a heavy thud as he fixed me with his magical eye.

"I heard the report from Lupin. And now I want to hear it from you. Tell me what actually happened, Potter."

I stared at him for a few seconds before I sat down too with a sigh. "Okay." And then I recounted my story. Or at least, what I remembered of it mixed with my knowledge of the "canon" story.

Halfway through, around the part where I mentioned hearing my dead parents, Moody took his hip flask and drank a heavy swig of it. But he stayed silent and waited for me to finish still. And even once I was done — ending on the part where I passed out right after casting the patronus — he didn't speak. We sat there in silence for nearly a minute before he spoke up.

"You cast a Patronus."

It wasn't a question, I noticed. I gave him a nod as my answer.

"A third year's patronus, if they can even manage it, is usually a mist. Maybe a faint shape on a good day." His magical eye whirred, scanning me like it was an x-ray. "Yours was stable." He pushed himself out of the chair and thudded across the room towards me. "And powerful. Do you even know what you did to that Dementor with your patronus?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

He stared at me silently once more, as if trying to squeeze the truth out of me with his presence alone. "What shape did it take?"

"… I— …" I sighed softly and locked my eyes onto his. "It was a hand — I think. Something with claws." Truth be told, I had a very good idea on what it had been. But there was only so much I was willing to divulge to anyone. Let alone Moody.

"Mm." His real eye narrowed and his magical eye stared at me as if it could see my very soul. He turned on his heel and moved to the chalkboard with his staff raised.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"You don't fight like a student your age." He said thoughtfully as he tapped the board with the bottom of the staff. "Too quick. Too controlled. Too precise. Someone's trained you." He turned back towards me. "Or is training you."

My breath caught in my throat and a lie bubbled on the tip of my tongue—

"Save it." He raised his hand and stopped me. "I don't need names. I need you to understand the consequences." Then his voiced lowered and filled with a tired honesty. "Potter… You're being prepared for war."

Moody turned back to the blackboard, studying the words that he'd written there earlier. "The Ministry has the dementors on a tight leash, but even a rabid dog will chew its way through a frayed rope eventually." His voice filled with a sharp precision. "I hesitate to believe any of this is a coincidence. First, Black escapes. Second, the Dementors nearly kill the Boy Who Fucking Lived on the Hogwarts Express, out in the middle of Scotland." He paused and bit back what he wanted to say next, going silent instead.

After a moment, he turned back to look at me as he sat down in the chair once more.

"Listen to me, Potter. You don't know me. You have no reason to trust me. Nor should you. Constant vigilance." He growled softly. "But if you take one thing away from this little talk, it should be this. The next time the Dementors come at you— don't hesitate. Don't hold back. Don't just drive them off, destroy them entirely."

I paused. "Can… A Patronus do that?"

"I believe yours can." He stared at me intensely. "I have never seen a Dementor scarred before. And the one who came for you was nearly cut in two. And I believe it's about time that someone teaches the rabid dog to be afraid of their masters again."

Silence filled the classroom as we stared at each other. My heart drummed in my chest, pounding against my rib cage like a prisoner demanding to be let loose.

Eventually, "you may go now, Potter." Moody slowly stood from his chair and waved his wand once more, causing the classroom to return to normal. As it had been when we walked in.

I gave him a nod, "yes sir," and stood as well. I watched the chair slide across the room towards its proper desk before I made my way to the door to leave.

"And Potter?"

I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him.

"Next time you summon your Patronus," his magical eye locked onto me, "tell me what shape it takes. Because the animal tells you who you are. And I want to know what's coming." The bolt slid open and the door followed with a gentle creak. "Get to potions, lad."

"Yes, sir." I stepped through the door and walked down the hall towards my next class. His words ringing in my head on repeat.

"The animal tells you who you are."

"I want to know what's coming."

The clawed hand flashed in my mind once more as I replayed the sight of the patronus wrapping around the Dementor's throat.

I couldn't even imagine what was coming, except for Hell.

And of course, I was right in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

The most dreaded part of my day had finally come — Double Potions — and with the Slytherins, no less.

Even under normal circumstances, the original Harry would've despised this class. But I wasn't in normal circumstances by any measure of the goddam word. And none of my prior knowledge was going to help me when the classes were easily more advanced than they had been for children.

And I wasn't the only one. The potions classroom was practically drowning in hesitation and worry from the other students. Though, I couldn't help but figure that Neville was feeding into it the most. Godbless his soul, but he was completely screwed in front of Professor Snape. Not that the damn professor did much to help make it any easier.

Ugh. Something to deal with eventually. I'll add "Give Severus Snape therapy" to my growing list of bullshit, I guess.

I lazily strode across the room towards my usual desk somewhere towards the middle and sat down with a soft sigh. I knew if I sat in the back, Snape would just harass me over being lazy. Towards the front, and he'd harass me for breathing too loudly. There really was no winning with him.

"Hello, Harry." Daphne smiled as she sat next to me suddenly, and began to pull her supplies out of her bag. "I'm glad to see you're okay after yesterday. Though… I have to admit, I almost wish I hadn't left to go with Tracey. Sounds like you had quite the adventure." She teased with a gentle nudge to my side.

I nearly jumped in my seat at her sudden appearance, and almost asked her why she had chosen to sit with me — right before the smell of her shampoo filled my nose and my head swam gently. It was cool, faintly sharp, and had a floral warmth that snuck in behind it all.

"Jasmine and Rowan Berries. I like her." Daedalus' voice supplied in my head in a hushed tone.

The smell knocked me off guard and forced me to sit there in silence as I drank in her appearance. The way her hair had been changed from her typical knot to a tight twist-braid that hugged the line of her skull, and secured with a silver pin shaped like a leaf. It was practical, and elegant. Giving her an almost princess-like appearance, if you ignored the school robes that hid her curves. The very image of her in Madam Malkin's had suddenly tied my tongue into a knot and dried my throat.

She busied herself with setting up her cauldron as I stared at her like a doofus, until she turned to look at me, before being caught off guard by my gaze. "… Do I have something on my face?" She asked hesitantly.

I didn't respond as quickly as I would've liked as my tongue untied itself. "No just— You look good today. I like the knot. Very uhm— Practical." I nearly stumbled my way through the words, and just as nearly kicked myself beneath the table.

Practical? That's the best you can come up with, dipshit??

The soft rumble of Daedalus hiding his own laughter didn't help the situation.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise and quickly turned back to her cauldron and textbook. "Thank you. You look good, too. Though, I'm still going to try and style your hair someday." The playfulness of her tone slowly returning as she composed herself again. "I'm sure a gallon of Sleekeazy's will do the job just fine."

"Fuck off." I laughed and nudged her back as I began getting my own supplies out onto the desk. "And you didn't exactly miss out on much." My mind filled with the Dementor's scream once more. "Just a typical day in my life at this point, y'know?"

She watched me unpack and rolled her eyes. "Oh please. As if the whole school isn't talking about your Elf handing out chocolates. Though I'm not quite sure I believe the idea that you warded off an entire Dementor."

Silence hung in the air like a noose as I chose not to respond.

"…" She stared at me, obviously waiting for me to retort with another joke. But nothing came. "You didn't." She sounded almost skeptical, yet hesitant. As if she couldn't bring herself to believe it. "… Harry. Did you ward off a dementor on the train?"

My lips quirked upwards into a slight smirk, yet I still said nothing.

Daphne huffed and turned away from me. "Asshole. And if you did ward off a Dementor, I'd say that's incredibly powerful spellwork for a third year. I'd even congratulate you on it and even ask if you wanted to come with me to Hogsmeade on Saturday."

It was my turn to sit there in dead silence as I tried to process what she had just said. She practically just asked me to go to Hogsmeade with her — and in front of the class at the same time. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was probably the most ballsy political move in the history of Hogwarts.

I quickly shifted in my seat and looked at her, "no no! I do! I mean— I did—" I deflated in my seat as I forced myself to take a moment and breathe. "… Sorry. I did cast a Patronus on a Dementor on the train. You can ask Ron and Hermione if you don't believe me."

I paused and waited for her to say something. To try and deny my claim, or even say that she would verify the story. But she didn't. So I continued.

"It was— a lot. It took a lot out of me, I mean, but it was enough to get the… thing to piss off. But I think Professor Lupin did a lot of the work in actually handling the situation afterwards."

"Shh, it's alright." …. "It's alright, relax. You're okay. You're safe." The memories of Lupin's face kneeling above me flooded back into my mind. Except it was twisted and overlapping with the face of my father.

"And if you're still offering—" I tried to swallow, but my mouth had suddenly become far too dry for my own liking. "I'd… like to go to Hogsmeade with you on Saturday. Please."

It didn't take long for Daphne to turn and look at me as she studied my face. As if she was trying to ascertain my sincerity. I couldn't fault her. Growing up in a pureblood society, and then coming to Hogwarts just to end up in Slytherin… Being careful was like a second nature.

Her mouth opened—

SLAM

The door to the classroom burst open and Snape stalked his way to the front with an angry snarl on his face. "Eyes upfront!" His wand waved through the air aggressively as the instructions for today's lesson appeared across the whiteboard in sharp script. "Today we will be working on a very volatile counteragent. If you fail to pay even the most tiny amount of attention to these instructions, you will find yourself in the hospital wing with a very nasty burn."

His eyes scoured the classroom like a hawk, before they landed on myself and Daphne and he paused, visibly caught off guard by the sight of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sitting next to each other. Or perhaps he was more surprised that Ron wasn't attached to my hip for once.

There was a small pause before he continued speaking.

"At the end of the class, you will place a single vial per table on my desk. However, should I find that any of you are slacking in your duty to help your partner," his gaze lingered on Hermione and Neville for a brief moment, "then you will present two separate vials. One of which, you will work on after class has ended."

He looked around the room as if he expected one of us to make a stupid comment. "… Begin."

I swallowed, and looked towards the board for the first step.

— Prepare the Base
Step 1: Light your burner to a low flame and bring 60mL of Moonwell Water to 65°C
(Cauldron should shimmer faintly, not bubble.)

Step 2: Add 1 teaspoon Silverleaf Extract and stir 8 anti-clockwise rotations.
→ Mixture should turn pale silver.

Easy enough in any case. Though by the time I'd turned to the cauldron, the flame sparked up as Daphne started the burner.

"You're getting slow, Harry." She teased with a slight grin. "Can you pass me the water, please? I'll even let you do the extract and stirring."

I couldn't help but laugh a little as I grabbed a beaker and handed it to her. "Pardon me for wanting to read the instructions before jumping in, Greengrass." I teased in return. "I'd rather not explode the cauldron on the first day back, after all."

"Oh, please." She carefully poured the mixture into the cauldron and set the beaker off to the side, away from the main materials. "I'm practically a prodigy at potions, thanks to my mother. Just listen to everything I say, and I'll make sure you get a fantastic grade." Daphne flashed me a small, confident grin.

As the heat slowly simmered the liquid, she started to prepare some of the other ingredients. "By the way… Your Elf, Dobby, I think. You must think quite highly of me to send him for my help. Or am I the only Slytherin you're actually on speaking terms with?"

"Oh— No— I mean yes. You are. But I didn't really think about it?" It sounded more like a question than I liked. "I asked Dobby to hand the chocolate out to you, Bones from Hufflepuff, Ron's sister, and also his older brother— partly because I couldn't think of any Ravenclaws on the spot."

I glanced towards the back where Snape was stalking near Neville's cauldron, before getting busy with my own ingredients. "I figured it would be easier to convince the different houses to eat the chocolate if it came from one of their own, rather than… Me."

"I think you underestimate how much influence you actually have, Harry." She chuckled and passed me the knife so I could shave the boomslang skin. "Granted, I think you're right for Slytherin at least." Then she paused, eyebrows furrowed. "… You could've gotten a lot of respect and admiration from the other students. But you kept silent." She turned to look at me once more.

Her cold eyes studied me, as if she was trying to search for something deep beneath my skin. "… You're an enigma sometimes, I swear. Though I guess it makes sense. I imagine you've had enough popularity for a lifetime. Oh. Here." She gently nudged me towards the cauldron and took the knife from me to continue shaving. "Add the silverleaf, please. We'll swap occasionally."

I was a little surprised by how active of a partner she was, but I didn't complain. "Alright." I said with a nod, and added the extract to the cauldron, before stirring it gently. The mixture slowly shifted colors into a color almost like raw moonlight and then into a gentle silver.

"And yeah. I just. It'd be nice to be on better terms with the houses, especially Slytherin." A soft sigh escaped my throat as my shoulders slumped a little. "I'm getting tired of all the bickering and fighting. Especially after last year."

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Malfoy called out with a callous grin as he stared at the immobile Miss Norris hanging.

"I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory." One stout boy — Ernie Macmillan — said to the rest of the Hufflepuffs. "If Potter's marked him down as the next victim, it's best he keeps a low profile."

The Chamber of Secrets had been one of the worst moments of Harry's life — at least in the beginning. I couldn't imagine finally finding a home where you felt accepted, and then suddenly you're being touted as the next Magical Hitler.

Except— I didn't have to imagine. His memories were my memories. Or my memories were my own…

"Sovereign." A soft voice spoke, rumbling through my ribcage. "Sovereign. Calm yourself. I can only do so much to stop your magic from reacting."

"Harry?"

… "Harry."

AGH!

I turned to look to my side and grabbed my arm as I winced in pain. "Ow!" I whispered. "The hell was that for?" As Daphne pulled me away from the cauldron and took her place in front of it.

"You weren't responding. And you—" She paused and looked around the room, before continuing in a softer, more quiet voice. "It's like when we had ice cream. You were having a… moment. And I'd rather you didn't accidentally kill yourself." She tipped a small container over the cauldron as an icy pulp dripped down.

"Sovereign." Daedalus' voice called out again. "Welcome back. I hope you're feeling better."

I chose not to respond to him, instead moving a little closer to Daphne and watched the cauldron. The smell of her shampoo filling my head again as I pushed away my old thoughts. I knew the Dementors couldn't really reach this far down into the castle.

Then why do I feel so cold all of a sudden?

"It's alright. Your magic nearly had a reaction, and now your body is dealing with the aftermath. It'll pass."

Somehow, Daedalus' assurance did little to comfort me. So, instead, I grabbed the eyedropper of Ashwinder Binder and put six drops into the cauldron. The mixture slowly thickened and a soft swirl of colors began to appear.

Daphne looked to me out of the corner of her eye and then increased the flame gently to raise the temperature. "Hey, can you crush the wyvern claw? I think it needs to be more of a powder, and I forgot to do it before class."

"Yeah, I got it." A small smile crossed my face as I moved away from her and to the mortar and pestle. The wyvern claw was already crushed rather well, but I didn't say anything. I just crushed it further as Daphne added the boomslang skin to the mixture.

"Miss Greengrass," Snape's cold voice hovered near us as he swooped in behind like a bat. His cold eyes staring at the cauldron as it gently shivered, like something was breathing beneath the surface. "If you insist on helping Potter, do try and keep him setting my classroom on fire." He turned to stare at me directly, as if waiting for me to talk back so he could take the entirety of Gryffindor's points away in one fell swoop.

Instead, I just stayed silent and continued crushing the claw. I wasn't in the mood to rise to his challenges. Not today.

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure to keep an eye on him." She stared up at him innocently, though her tone carried a slightly cold edge to it. Not in an openly hostile way, but she certainly wasn't sucking up to him like Malfoy might've done.

Snape pulled back slightly and turned towards Daphne, eyebrow raised silently.

Off to the side, I could see Tracey smirking as she tried to focus on her own potion with Blaise. And Malfoy looked like someone had forced a bottle of lemon juice down his throat and said "good ferret" while they did it.

Worth every second of this awful class so far, just for that.

Snape continued to stare Daphne down for several seconds before silently stalking off once more towards Seamus' cauldron which had — predictably — started to bubble a viciously green foam.

My attention was turned back to the desk in front of me as Daphne reached over — hand brushing gently against mine — as she grabbed a pinch of the fine powder I had been crushing.

"Thanks, this looks good." And she sprinkled it carefully into the cauldron. "You're a better partner than I expected." As the corner of her lip twitched into a playful grin, and the tension near our desk slowly dissipated.

I rolled my eyes and gave her a gentle nudge once more. "Piss off, Greengrass. You're the one who sat next to me in the first place. And I'm a great partner, thank you very much."

"Mm. I guess we'll see come Saturday, won't we, Potter?" The name rolled off her tongue with a gentle nip as she nudged me back.

I couldn't stop the giant grin from crossing my face, even as my neck flushed a light red. "I guess we will. Should I come grab you from the dungeons? Or did you prefer if we met down there?" My eyes never left her, even as she took the cauldron off the heat and set it to the side, letting it cool down.

"Hm. How about I meet you at the main doors, and we go down together? Best of both worlds, and you won't get hexed by one of Malfoy's goons for the fun of it." She finally turned to face me as the cauldron slowly bubbled and cooled next to us. "Unless you're really that insistent on getting in trouble your first week for fighting."

"The main doors are just fine." I chuckled softly. "I'd really rather not miss on Hogsmeade." There was a small pause as I finally pulled my gaze away from her and towards the nearby cauldron. "… Thanks, by the way. I just. Y'know. The dementors are fucking with me, I think."

Daphne just nodded, and made no comment on how she felt fine down here. I appreciated her all the more for it.

"Guess we'll make a stop at the Three Broomsticks then. Dad always said a butterbeer will warm anyone up." She flashed me another toothy smile before preparing the vials to present our mixture to Snape. "But you'll be taking me to Honeydukes after. deal?"

"Deal." I smiled warmly and took one of the two vials once she finished scooping up the counteragent. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too, Harry. So don't disappoint me by getting in trouble." Her smile turned into a gentle, almost motherly glare. "I'd hate to be in Hogsmeade all by myself, after all."

Potions hadn't actually been that bad, all things considered.

Well, it was terrible. But partnering with Daphne actually made it a lot better. Except now I'd have to endure Ron and Hermione's relentless teasing over dinner. Maybe I should just force Lavender to date Ron so I can turn the tables on him early…

The noises of the Great Hall pulled me away from my thoughts as I followed my friends towards our usual spot. My eyes moved towards the staff table at the far end — and boy if that wasn't a sight. Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody at the same table and no imposter death eaters in sight.

Unless we ignore the little rat fucker in Ron's pocket that I had to constantly fight the urge to fucking strangle—

"There's nothing stopping you from following through, Sovereign." There was a small pause before Daedalus chuckled. "Ahh. I see."

A familiar window appeared in my view.

🌌 [SOVEREIGN’S BURDEN] 🌌
The Loom of Fate quivers. Two threads knot in your grasp. One drips with betrayal, the other with salvation. Only one strand may endure. Only one noose may break.

⟡ Option A: Spare the Oathbreaker
“Let the rat scurry back to his Master. Mercy now, and in time your sacrifice shall awaken bonds unbroken. To chain yourself to restraint is to invite patience… and patience breeds reward. But with it — risk.”

Locked Reward: [Bond of the Hound]

Weave’s Warning: “The Wheel exacts its toll. Every delay sharpens another blade.”

⟡ Option B: Sever the Traitor
“Cut deep, and the chain lies broken. End the root before it coils, and watch the tapestry recoil in new, twisted patterns. The price is mercy denied, the gain is power untempered. However, one gain is another loss.”

Locked Reward: [Dominion Spark: Severance]

Weave’s Warning: “What is not forged, is forever unmade. Mercy once slain does not rise again.”

✨ Sovereign’s Advisory:
Few mortals question the loom. They march to its measure, blind to the threads that bind them. But you, Wyrmling… You clutch the shears. Every thread you sever carves your Hoard. Every chain you spare drags it heavier behind you.

"This, huh?" It felt like Daedalus was leaning over my shoulder, staring at the window with me. "Ah. Yes. You worry, should you follow through on your desires, that which you hold dear will be lost." A clawed hand gently caressed my chin. "Tell me, Wyrmling. When you sat upon the throne, were you not denying those that thought they could control you?"

"Do not be so bold as to assume I would ever claim you, Weakling. I care little for your choice. Go ahead and make it, and be done with this place." The voice was harsh, with a snarling bite beneath it as if it wanted nothing more than to crush me. To snap my skull between its jaws.

The voice of the Throne. They had all spoken to me — attempted to entice me with beautiful visions of power and their potential. But not the Dragon. It had bared fang and claw, threatening to rip me into bloody ribbons and feast upon my agonies.

I could still feel it — even now. The overwhelming pressure behind the hunger it held. I could still see it — the colossal seat of molten gold, and treasure, and the bones of those who dared snarl back. The Dragon did not beg me to sit on its Throne like the others.

The World Is Anchored Through Its Myth

The words borne upon the plaque drew a chill through my body, like ice freezing over my veins and dragging jagged edges of frost between my ribs.

Your power is your hoard. Your hoard is everything you claim. Gold, flesh, mind, loyalty - all of it. The Dragon does not beg. The Dragon does not serve. The Dragon rules over all it sees with an iron grip.

My eyes widened as I remembered the palace of rotten stone and corpses of God Kings, and the thrones upon which they sat. The throne upon which I now sat. I had been looking at this all wrong. It was only natural for me to do so, after all. I was only human.

But that was then. This is now. Was I even still human? Or had I become a Dragon wearing the skin of a boy who died? … Had I ever been human?

My hand clutched my chest violently as if I was to try and dig into my beating heart and rip it from its cage. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get enough air into my lungs, and my vision swam in nauseating waves.

Two large hands gripped me and pulled — and suddenly I was weightless. Floating among a sea of nothing endlessly.

"Shh. Rest now, Wyrmling. It will be okay. You've done well so far. But this road is best left untraveled right now." A firm voice growled soflty in my ear as my vision slowly darkened. "The crown weighs heavy on the head, most of all for those who are most deserving of bearing it. Relax, and come morning, you will understanding."

A small pause before the voice continued, this time with a chuckle. "Ah, I see. Perhaps you are right. Here, Wyrmling. A gift. Do not waste it."

🌌 [THREADBREAKER] — Hidden Path Discovered 🌌
You have rejected the Loom's ordained birufication. Where others bow, you bite. Where others weigh mercy against slaughter, you refuse the scale entirely. Congratulations, Wyrmling, on your first step towards embracing your Heritage.

The Weave trembles.

Your choice has fractured the pattern.

Where two threads were offered… you take a third in your teeth and tear.

The Oathbreaker's Life hangs by your hand.

The Hound's Freedom weighs on your will.

⟡ Objective: Unmake the Fate-Bound Knot
You have chosen a path that does not exist. To walk it, you must craft it.

Requirements (Dynamic):

Claim the Oathbreaker alive or dead — but make his truth undeniable.

Seize the power to shield the Hound from Fate's retribution.

Prove that a Sovereign may dictate justice without the Weave's permission.

Current Progress: 0%

(The Weave watches. It hungers for a new ending to an age-old story.)

⟡ Outcome: Unknown to the Loom
You have rejected the pre-determined reward.

The Loom cannot show what it cannot foresee.
You prize will reflect:

Your strength.

Your intent.

Your dominion.

And the shape of the fate you forge.

Possible Rewards:

A bond reshaped, not inherited.

A dominion born, not granted.

A title whispered into being.

Or nothing — should your defiance fail.

(The Loom offers no promises. Only pressure.)

✨ Sovereign’s Advisory:
Congratulations, Wyrmling. Though this path is best left alone for now, you have taken your first steps into truly forming your own Dominion. Fate bared its fangs at you and demanded you lay down and submit — and you roared back with the strength of an Apex Predator.

Perhaps you are worthy of my title after all.

I look forward to seeing your future.

I felt myself sink. Not falling, not held, just drifting. Like something else had gently taken the weight of my body and mind both, leaving me adrift.

A breath that wasn't mine whispered through me, warm and steady. "Sleep, Wyrmling." And then darkness claimed everything.

I woke up with a painful gasp as if the air itself was burning my lungs and my eyes darted around in the darkness. "Lumos!" I rasped out dryly as a small ball of light appeared hovering in the air before me, illuminating the familiar curtains around my Hogwarts bed.

A sudden voice quietly called out as a snap filled the room.

"Master Harry! Dobby has updates!"

Chapter Text

MINISTRY OF MAGIC — DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT

INCIDENT REPORT — LEVEL TWO CLEARANCE REQUIRED

Date: 1 September, 1993

Reporting Officer: Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the DMLE

Subject: Unauthorized Entry of Dementor onto Hogwarts Express

Case File: DMLE-HX-93-091

I. Overview

At approximately 16:27 GMT, an assigned Dementor stationed along the Hogsmeade perimeter breached Ministry-set operational boundaries and proceeded to board the Hogwarts Express during active transit. The incident resulted in widespread panic among students and multiple cases of magical shock.

II. Findings

• The Dementor acted without direct order from its appointed Ministry handlers.

• At least two compartments reported severe cold exposure, and memory-affective symptoms consistent with prolonged Dementor proximity.

• One non-fatal magical surge was detected aboard the train — currently believed to be a Defensive Patronus attempt by a student, [NAME EXPUNGED FOR PRIVACY]

• The Dementor was later sighted by Auror Spind returning to its designated perimeter at approximately 16:33 GMT. Auror Spind reported that the Dementor looked "injured" though further examination of the Dementor has been deemed off-limits at this time.

III. Student Condition Summary

• 14 students reported minor symptoms (tremors, cold shock, temporary disorientation)

• 3 students required extended observation by School Medi-Witch (Mdm. Pomfrey.)

• No fatalities or soul extraction attempts recorded.

• Various students (HB., Percy Weasley — Pref. Penelope Clearwater — and others) reported receiving "chocolate" from an unidentified House Elf under orders from Professor R. J. Lupin to assist with Dementor exposure.

IV. Violations & Concerns

• Breach constitutes a Category B Overreach of Jurisdiction under the Dementor Deployment Charter (Section 3, Clause 7.)

• Potential risk of public relations damage and political liability for the Ministry.

• Credibility of the Dementor Security Initiative is now in question. The Wizengamot has decided not to call a vote yet.

V. Recommended Action

1. Immediate internal review of Dementor command protocols.

2. Temporary suspension of perimeter duties pending inquiry.

3. Official statement drafted to preempt press leaks.

4. Private briefing with Ministry Fudge regarding policy impact.

Filed by:

Amelia S. Bones

Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

She had reviewed the document countless times in the past hour alone, and it had taken longer than that to even draft it originally. When she'd first received news of the Dementor incident from Moody, Madam Bones had been beyond furious. She'd nearly marched her way into Fudge's office, if not for Kingsley intervening with a well-timed bottle of scotch and an offer to practice their sparring in the DMLE's training rooms.

It had been far too long since Bones had sparred anyone, but that didn't mean she'd lost her edge. Nearly two hours of non-stop spellcasting between the two before she finally calmed down enough to draft the report.

Of course, if her niece had been injured… But she hadn't. There was no reason to think about that now.

She peered down at the report once more, before she brought the glass of scotch up to her mouth once more. "Mm. I must really thank Kingsley for this." She smacked her lips lightly and gave a light flick of her wand which sent the report flying out of her office and towards the Minister's.

With a sigh, she flicked her wand again to shut her door. "Goddamn him. What was he even thinking sending those… monsters down to Hogsmeade of all places? He had to have known." Fingers lightly tapped the glass in her hands. "… Goddamn you, Sirius. What could drive a man to betray his friends like that…"

"Bones." Alastor's gruff voice called out as he hobbled over towards her. "We found him in downtown London."

Her blood turned cold. "Found who, Alastor?"

Before Moody could respond, the door to the DMLE opened and several Aurors stormed in, dragging a man covered in soot and blood, with clothes and hair messy and ruined. Eyes vacant as his feet barely moved in pace with the men who held him up.

But even beneath the grime and dirt, she could never forget that face.

"Is that…" She trailed off. It felt like a dagger had been driven between her ribs and right into her heart. "What happened, Alastor?"

The Auror didn't seem keen on responding immediately, as he watched them drag the young man towards the temporary cells. "… He… We found him surrounded by twelve dead muggles. Witnesses claimed they saw him arguing with Peter."

The blade twisted.

"He… Well we're not really sure what happened. He had his wand on Peter and then witnesses saw an explosion. We've covered it up with a gas leak but… It's not good, Amelia. They heard Peter say "why did you betray them" before he… Bones. We only found a finger left."

The blade dug even deeper. Gouging out her intestines and ripping open her chest.

"No. No no no— it can't be. That's Sirius we're talking about, Alastor! He can't have— There must be a mistake!" She nearly cried out as she made to go after the Aurors, before a rough, scarred hand pressed against her chest firmly.

"It's not a mistake, Amelia. I was first on the scene." His grizzled voice came out softly. "It was… Messy. Crouch wants to make an example of out of him. For the Potter murders."

The Potter Murders. That's right— James and Lily— Harry—

She quickly turned to look at Alastor. "Alastor— I need you to handle this. Please. See what you can find. Surely he didn't—" she trailed off and looked away. "… If he did then… But if he didn't— please. Alastor."

"I will." He nods and removes his hand from her chest. "You know I will."

"Thank you." Tears threatened to spill out and she could barely hold them back. "I— I have to go. I need to find out what's happening with their son. I need to talk with Dumbledore." With one final glance towards the cells, she nearly ran out of the room in search of the Headmaster.

Her eyes stung and she reached up to wipe the tears gently. The memories of that day — when Sirius Black charged with killing Peter Pettigrew — had come rushing back. It had been seventeen years since his sentencing to Azkaban. Why now? After all this time— if he could've escaped— then why hadn't he?

"… What's your endgame, Black?" She muttered softly as she leaned back in her chair, still holding the glass. Then it struck her. Something he had said when she visited him, four years after his initial incarceration.

"… Sirius. Sirius it's Amelia. I—" Her voice caught in her throat and she had to fight back tears as she watched the hunched over man barely twitch in the corner at the sound of her voice. "Sirius. I just want to know… Why'd you do it?" Why did you kill the Potters? She'd nearly said. But she couldn't bring herself to bring back that particular memory.

The man merely twitched again in the corner, staying silent.

She honestly couldn't believe this was Sirius Orion Black. The Auror that she had put so much faith into in the past, during the war. The same man who stood there so proudly at James and Lily's wedding. The same man who had barged into her office with that cocksure grin and demanded he — and James — be allowed to help hunt down the Death Eaters, even though they were barely out of school at the time.

She slowly stood up from the chair and reached over to grab it. "… Goodbye, Sirius." The words barely escaped as she made her way to leave, before the sound of rasping caught her attention.

"… Peter… The rat. He ran… he ran…" His voice cracked like shattered glass. "James— Lily— should've been me… Should've—" A violent shiver ran through him as a Dementor drifted down the opposite way. "I should've died with them…"

Amelia could barely bring her eyes to the huddled mass once more as she listened to him. She'd never seen this side of him before. This anger. The vitriol he carried in his voice. Not even when fighting the Death Eaters. Perhaps that should've been her first clue that he had been working for the other side. But never in a million years…

"…" Amelia continued to watch him for a moment before she finally turned and left. Her hand gripping onto the cold chair and her Patronus — a badger — followed her like a faithful guardian. But even the warmth of the spell could do nothing to fix the pain in her heart as she left her past friend behind in the cell where he would live out the rest of his days.

Her eyes opened and she stared at the gentle light of the candle hanging on the wall. "Dementors can't keep the prisoners in… And they nearly kill a bunch of damn students." Her hand clenched around the glass and she nearly threw it against a nearby wall — but stopped herself as a knock rapped on her door and filled the room.

"One moment." She called out in her natural, commanding tone, as she took a brief moment to compose herself and make sure she was presentable. The scotch and glass disappeared behind her desk. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal the familiar face of Nymphadora Tonks — one of her Junior Aurors — with parchment in her hands. "Sorry to bother you, Madam," the pink haired Auror said hesitantly. Though she took no offence to it — she knew her reputation. "I have a report about the escapee— Sirius Black. Just came in."

Amelia nodded sharply and gestured towards her desk. "Place it down here."

The young Auror quickly moved forward and placed the parchment down. "Yes ma'am. Also— Rita Skeeter wishes for a comment. Should I—" She paused and glanced at Amelia, then nodded again. "I'll let her know you're unavailable."

"Thank you." She nearly cracked a smile at Nymphadora's understanding but stopped herself as she grabbed the parchment. "If that's all, you may go."

She stood up straight with a quick "yes ma'am" then turned on her heel and made her way to the door.

"Wait—" Amelia called out and stopped the Auror in her tracks. "Before you go. I'd like you to join the Hogsmeade Security Team after the winter break. That should give you a few months to finish up whatever Kingsley has left for you. Correct?"

Nymphadora took a moment to respond, obviously surprised by the sudden order to actually go out into the field. Though she quickly shook it off. "Yes ma'am. I'll be ready by then."

"Good. You may go then." As she turned back to the parchment and gave a quick flick of her wand to open it. The door opened and closed shortly after as she skimmed the report, though a specific section caught her eye in particular.

BLACK SPOTTED NEAR THE OUTSKIRTS OF SCOTLAND.

Her blood ran cold as she re-read it again and again, and hoped for it to be different with each time. If he was near the outskirts of Scotland, than it was possible he was indeed making his way towards Hogwarts. Towards Harry. Of course, she had the utmost faith in Headmaster Dumbledore to keep him — and the school — safe, but…

She just couldn't wrap her head around why he was going there. Surely he, of all people, knew that he would never reach Harry beneath Dumbledore's protection? Though, after seventeen years of Azkaban, perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly.

"I should've died with them." Sirius rasped out and huddled further into the corner.

Or perhaps he was so hell-bent on dying, that he wanted their only son to do the job. Some sort of fucked up penance for what he'd done.

Amelia hummed softly and turned to her own parchment sitting neatly nearby. "… As good a time as any, I would say." She reached over and grabbed her parchment and quill, then started writing a letter.

"Dear… Harry…" She muttered softly as she wrote. "… Mm… Maybe Potter… No, let's go with Harry." She continued to write, with the only sound in the room being the scratching of the quill and the occasional dip into the ink bottle.

Dear Harry,

I hope you've been well since our last meeting. I certainly enjoyed finally getting to know the real person behind the title.

As you probably remember, during our last conversation, you wanted to discuss the ability to assist myself and the DMLE in our duties. Perhaps you'd be open to having lunch sometime? Or maybe I can convince you to attend Thanksgiving with my niece, Susan Bones. I hear she's quite fond of you after the help you gave her recently.

I believe there's also some important information that you and I can discuss — though I'd rather it was done in private, just between us. I understand you're likely quite busy with your schooling, and I'm sure to be quite busy with my own workload. Respond to this letter if you're interested, and we'll no doubt work something out that's mutually agreeable.

P.S.

I've heard that you and Hestia are getting along quite well. Maybe you'll even help me convince her to join us sometime. I'm sure that would be quite the treat.

Best wishes,

Amelia S. Bones.

Once the letter was finished, she sat the quill down to the side and stared at it. "… What are you getting yourself into, Amelia…" The witch couldn't help but laugh softly as she re-read it. "Inviting him over for Thanksgiving… It's like I'm playing matchmaker all over again." Then a gentle swish of her wand and the letter was sealed and ready to be sent.

"Mm. Only one way to find out." As she grabbed the letter and left the office. The bottle of scotch abandoned behind her desk — at least for the time being.

Chapter Text

It moved slowly through the dark of night. Its dark, matted fur provided a lot of camouflage in this environment — for which, it was grateful.

It could see a small village just up-ahead. It had smelled it long before that, even. The scent of cooked food, of garbage, of people and animals. Its mind filled with the temptation to move forward, to try and steal something. But some deeper part of it knew better. It had to be cautious.

Slam!

The sound of a car door caused it to slink back into the brush and get down low. Eyes searching the landscape as it tried to make out the telltale signs of Aurors. Ears pricked back as it caught the tail-end of a radio's news broadcast—

"Wanted man believed to be near the Scottish Border."

It nearly snorted. He had been much further into the Scottish territory than that. But the further they looked, the better. Of course he would turn himself in after he killed Peter— he just needed to finish it. Just needed to rip that fucker's throat out with its teeth and watch the life leave its eyes!!

It stayed in the brush and watched a while longer before slinking into the village and snatched a leftover bag of food, then sprinted back into the dark forest before it could be spotted. This meal would allow it to survive another couple of days, at the very least.

That's all that mattered.

It took nearly an hour of trotting before it came to stop, and set the bag down. A quick sniff, and a hesitant look around the area before its fur began to recede and a gaunt, frail man kneeled in its place. Cold. Too cold. It grabbed the bag and began eating quickly. It couldn't be picky, though it did partly wish that people had a better taste in food around these parts. Or at least had more meat in their diet.

I can travel… Fourty… Maybe sixty kilometers in a day if I push myself. … Wind speed is… About two kilometers, North-West. That should carry my scent further away from them for the time being… I'll be long gone before it matters.

Some deeper part of its brain continued to think. Plotting and planning and running all kinds of variables, while it devoured the food hungrily.

The Aurors are likely setting up a cordon at the border right now… No doubt they have guards at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Smart. But they don't know about the Animagus form— so they're searching for a blue colored needle in a haystack, while the pink needle is flipping them off from a different haystack.

It finished the food and crawled forward to drink from a nearby stream. It spared a brief moment to consider cleaning itself— before quickly diving into the stream. Cold! Cold! Wet! It quickly crawled back out and shook itself violently — though the lack of fur certainly made it more difficult.

Where is Hogwarts… Assuming I'm heading the right way… I think another week of walking. If I'm not, then add another half week. But I can't heard there straight away. I need to wait for the security to die down first. I need to find a good opportunity to actually do it. Kill the rat.

… Maybe I can try and see Harry. Not directly, of course but… I wonder if he's taken after James at all. Plays Quidditch. … Wouldn't that be great, James? Your own son, playing Quidditch. Haha.

Unless he's a Beater… Then I might be a little disappointed with those broom genes of yours, James. Only you could have a kid that turns out to be a damn beater.

He chuckled to himself till he was rasping and then coughing.

Christ. … Well. I should keep moving anyways. Need to make tracks.

It slowly shifted once more — going from the ghastly man to the pathetic looking dog — and then started trotting back off, deeper into the woods, and away from the village. The trash of its last meal forgotten behind.

The dog slowly pushed itself between rocks, in a small hollow. It curled up on itself, with its eyes facing outwards just in case anything came by.

But nothing came. The forest stayed silent, and he was all alone.

His eyes slowly closed and he began to drift off to sleep.

The cold stone. Chains rattling. The screams and yelling. The mad ravings of lunatics. Rain pouring down angrily against the stone and metal as thunder roared ahead.

It curled up further into the corner of its cell as it smelled the decay and terror of the Dementors getting closer. The chains dragging across the stone, permanently attached to their arms beneath the cloak. The way other prisoners scrambled around their cells, whimpering and crying their hearts out whenever they got close.

It was everything it could do just to remain sane. To bury its nose in the corner and pray they wouldn't linger. Pray it wouldn't be reminded of his face. Pray it wouldn't be reminded of its deeds and the consequences it wrought.

Only one prisoner could ever stay normal in the face of the Dementors — and she was currently cackling like a hyena, just one floor away from him. Some days he wished he'd just slip through the bars and go rip her throat out. But it was dangerous. Too dangerous. Better to leave her alone so it could survive. Survival was penance. It needed to pay the price.

The cold grew deeper, burying itself into his veins as it shivered. Luckily the Dementors left it alone — they couldn't identify animals — but that didn't mean they didn't affect it. Even if it was just memories at this point. Memories of all the pain and terror and guilt.

"Hey there, Padfoot." A familiar voice said gently next to him and sat down, pressed into its body. "Stop brooding in the corner, eh? You look like a kicked dog." James' laugh filled his ears and a butterbeer was pushed into his hands. "Just because McKinnon said no to the dance this time doesn't mean she'll say no if you ask her again. For the fifteenth time."

Padfoot snarled and pushed his friend gently, before downing the Butterbeer. "Ah, piss off. Why don't you go ask out Evans again, huh?"

"That's cold." James laughs again. "You wound me, Pad. C'mon. Come sit with the rest of us, eh?"

He turned to look at James again, but he was gone. Replaced by the fire of Grimmauld Place when he was a young boy. The crackling flame illuminating the dark living room as he sat there in front of it silently.

"Mm. Sirius?" His brother's young voice called out as he came down the stairs. "Why're you awake?" He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he made his way towards his older brother.

"Nothing, Reg." Sirius pushes himself off the carpet and moves towards the boy. "How about you? Why're you awake? Having nightmares again?"

Regulus hesitated before nodding. "I was going to grab a glass of water from the kitchen and then go back to sleep… Promise."

"S'alright." His arm wrapped around his brother's shoulder and he guided him towards the kitchen. "C'mon. Let's get ya a drink and then back to bed, eh? I'll read ya a story if it helps you sleep." His face broke out into a smile as his younger brother leaned into his side and nodded sleepily.

He looked at the kitchen, but Grimmauld place was gone. He turned to look at his brother, but he was gone too. Soft giggling and a heavy weight in his hands drew his attention back to the front, as he stared into the young face of his best mate's child.

He had his mother's eyes, and his father's wild hair — even as a boy.

The baby giggled again as Sirius sat him down on his knee and began bouncing it gently. "Hey there, Harry. What're you laughing at?" He asks in a funny voice. "You laughin' at me, mate? I'll have you know that's awful rude."

The baby squealed happily and reached out towards him.

"You gonna ask nicely?" Sirius stared down at him with a playful, pretend stern look. Only relenting when he received nothing but more burbles and laughter from the infant as he sighed and lifted him up once more. "Alright. Here you go."

He leaned his head forward and laughed as well when he felt the baby grabbing at his hair. Soon, he set the baby down on the ground and shifted into Padfoot as he cuddled up next to the young child and nuzzled him gently. More laughter ensued and he tickled his belly with his nose.

It was the first night in a long while that Sirius had actually slept peacefully. The tension leaving his furry body as he recounted his happy memories. His time with James at school, his life with Regulus before everything had turned upside down, and then becoming Harry's godfather.

It would be the last time he slept peacefully for a while too.

It had been walking for a while it felt something watching it. It froze in its steps and looked around. It could've sworn it heard a distant pop of magic, and a strange pressure in the air. But it wasn't the Ministry. If they'd found him, he would've been stunned — or possibly killed — immediately.

Perhaps it was Kreacher? … No. Kreacher was hopefully long dead by now. Along with everyone else in that retched fucking house.

But then who? … Maybe he was just imagining things. Yeah. That must've been it.

It growled out loudly and bared sharp, dirty fangs, then waited. Nothing came. No threats emerged. No animals went scurrying off. Not a single spell was cast in his direction. Nothing at all. Just the peaceful, Scottish air.

He waited a little bit longer before he turned away and began moving again. Towards the strange tug that seemed to be guiding him towards Hogwarts. Towards Harry. Maybe he was just imagining that part too. But it was the only thing he had to hold onto anymore. That Harry was safe. That he would make Harry safe, by killing the rat and finally finishing what he had set out to do, the day he learned of their death.

At some point during his journey, he decided that Harry needed to know the truth. That Peter betrayed them, not him.

It wouldn't change anything. He would still kill Peter. He would go back to Azkaban — if not be kissed outright — but he would have served his sentence. He would honor James' memory by making sure his only son knew the truth. By making sure he was safe.

Voldemort could consider himself lucky that he died that night. Otherwise it would've gone after him next and ripped the fucker to shreds, just like it would do to Peter.

A deep breath as he moved through the grass, reciting his new manta to himself.

Harry first. Peter second. Nothing else matters.

But he couldn't shake the persistent feeling like he was running out of time.

Chapter Text

I woke up with a painful gasp as if the air itself was burning my lungs and my eyes darted around in the darkness. "Lumos!" I rasped out dryly as a small ball of light appeared hovering in the air before me, illuminating the familiar curtains around my Hogwarts bed.

A sudden voice quietly called out as a snap filled the room.

"Master Harry! Dobby has updates!"

My face changed between several different emotions as I tried to process everything. "Water. Please." Every word felt like agony as it raked its way up my throat. I barely flinched as Dobby disappeared in a gentle snap, then reappeared with a large glass in hand.

I took the glass from him quickly and downed the water with an animalistic ferocity. Every drop was like Ambrosia to my tongue, and I couldn't get enough of it. Like I was trying to douse an eternal furnace in my chest.

Dobby watched me and shifted slightly on the bed. "Master Harry… Dobby was thinking you called him here to discuss Master Padfoot. But Dobby is seeing that Master Harry is unwell. Should Dobby be getting the healing supplies?"

I stopped chugging the water long enough to shake my head and then downed the rest of it as I gasped for more air. "Ugh. Fuckkk. Thank you, Dobby. Sorry— no, I'm— I'm fine. Ugh." Even now my head throbbed painfully, though it was growing more mild by the second. "I just needed a drink. I didn't even—" The words "mean to call you" got stuck in my throat. I didn't want to make Dobby feel bad, so I kept them to myself.

"… Thank you, Dobby. Really."

Dobby looked at me with wide eyes, full of fascination and loyalty. "Master Harry don't need be thanking Dobby! Dobby will always be there for Master Harry!" A large grin split across his face. "Master Harry be seeming better, indeed Master Harry just needed a drink."

I really wished he'd stop calling me "Master" so often. But it came with the territory of making sure he'd be safe, I guess.

"Mm. Yeah." I sighed and sat the glass down nearby on the table. "Christ. Sorry, again." I reached up to rub my face in the hopes it'd get rid of the headache faster. "You mentioned Sir— Padfoot. What's going on with that? Is there anything new?"

"Oh yes! Master Padfoot be roaming the countryside currently, but he be making his way here slowly! The Master is…" Dobby trailed off, before he continued hesitantly. "… He be sick, Dobby thinks. Malnutrition, physical abuse, and lots of mind issues. Dobby is worried that the Master might have spent too long in his other skin. Dobby is worried that… It might be difficult for Master Harry to help."

That wasn't good. It was expected for sure. But good? Far beyond.

Malnutrition would be difficult to handle on my own. I'd need a healer or medi-witch of some kind to handle his physical injuries anyways… Hopefully they could figure out a proper diet for him at the same time. If St. Mungos wasn't off the table, I'd take him there.

Though, I guess I could always send him abroad. America, Canada… Something of that sort. But the biggest thing would be the insane amount of mental trauma he's endured. It had been longer in this timeline than the original, which would only exacerbate the issue.

"… Alright. Is there anything else, Dobby?" I raised the glass to my mouth and drank in the hopes it would clear the thorns in my throat.

Dobby slunk back as his ears folded down. "No, Master Harry… Padfoot might be aware of Dobby's presence, but I's not sure about that. The wizard seekers aren't close to Padfoot, Dobby made sure of that. But Padfoot is needing help sooner than later—" He suddenly looked like he was about to fling himself into the nearest wall.

I quickly grabbed Dobby — gently — to stop him from doing anything rash. "It's okay. It's alright. I understand." A moment passed before I pulled my hands away from the Elf slowly. Once I was sure he wasn't going to punish himself, I continued. "I just need him to get closer so there's not as much trouble getting him to safety. But I also—" My voice caught in my throat. "… I don't know what I'm going to do with him, Dobby."

The elf looked at me with massive, curious eyes and a small tilt to his head. "What does Master Harry mean? You's be the strongest wizard in the world! If anybody can figure out how to help Padfoot, it be you, for sure!" His voice full of admiration.

I couldn't help but be amazed by his undying dedication to being my biggest fan. I mean really, it bordered on unhealthy. But I wasn't going to be the one to stop him.

"Right— Thanks, Dobby. Really." I set the glass down on my nearby dresser and leaned back against the headboard. "Christ. I guess we'll see what happens when we get there. Was there anything else?" As I turn my attention back to the elf, who shakes his head.

"No, Master Harry. Is you needing Dobby to do anything else? Shall Dobby get some food from the kitchens?"

I nearly said no on instinct— "Actually, that would be great. Thank you, Dobby. Just grab whatever, I'm not too fussed." A warm, sincere smile crosses my face.

"Yes, Master Harry!"

Snap.

And then Dobby was gone, and I was left alone with my thoughts for the time being.

"… Fuck. Surely I just dreamt it, right?" I tried to lie to myself as I pulled up the quest window. And yet, sure as rain, there it was.

🌌 [THREADBREAKER] — Hidden Path Discovered 🌌

You have rejected the Loom's ordained bifurcation. Where others bow, you bite. Where others weigh mercy against slaughter, you refuse the scale entirely. Congratulations, Wyrmling, on your first step towards embracing your Heritage.

The Weave trembles.

Your choice has fractured the pattern.

Where two threads were offered… you take a third in your teeth and tear.

The Oathbreaker's Life hangs by your hand.

The Hound's Freedom weighs on your will.

⟡ Objective: Unmake the Fate-Bound Knot
You have chosen a path that does not exist. To walk it, you must craft it.

Requirements (Dynamic):

Claim the Oathbreaker alive or dead — but make his truth undeniable.

Seize the power to shield the Hound from Fate's retribution.

Prove that a Sovereign may dictate justice without the Weave's permission.

Current Progress: 0%

(The Weave watches. It hungers for a new ending to an age-old story.)

⟡ Outcome: Unknown to the Loom
You have rejected the pre-determined reward.

The Loom cannot show what it cannot forsee.
You prize will reflect:

Your strength.

Your intent.

Your dominion.

And the shape of the fate you forge.

Possible Rewards:

A bond reshaped, not inherited.

A dominion born, not granted.

A title whispered into being.

Or nothing — should your defiance fail.

(The Loom offers no promises. Only pressure.)

✨ Sovereign’s Advisory:
Congratulations, Wyrmling. Though this path is best left alone for now, you have taken your first steps into truly forming your own Dominion. Fate bared its fangs at you and demanded you lay down and submit — and you roared back with the strength of an Apex Predator.

Perhaps you are worthy of my title after all.

I look forward to seeing your future.

Was this the goal the whole time? Present me with an impossible option to force me into defying fate? Or perhaps whatever— or whoever— created this system had never intended for it to be a binary in the first place.

Would Harry have defied it too? Or would he have taken it at face value and accepted losing one for the other?

I actually didn't know. For the first time since I'd arrived here, I genuinely had zero idea what Harry Potter would've done. What I would've done.

My head swam violently and I found myself gulping down the rest of the water in an attempt to steady myself. Even if I had to drown myself to do it. "Ugh." I gasped for breath as I slammed the glass down a little more forcefully than I'd intended. "Jesus. Okay. I'm good."

Snap.

A plate appeared on my lap and I could only stare at it in silence. When I'd asked Dobby to get me food from the kitchens, I hadn't expected damn near a feast.

Roast chicken slices, mashed potatoes, two yorkshire puddings— Christ, Dobby. I really needed to convince him to take a salary one of these days. He'd even put a cup of tea with some lemon slices, and a small note.

For Harry Potter, Sir,

Dobby is bringing Harry Potter proper food so Master's magic stays bright and strong. Snacks be not enough for wizards who carry big destines, and heavier worries.

Harry Potter must eat lots and rest lots, please.

If Master needs anything, Dobby will be ready to help.

With many hopes,

Dobby

(P.S. Dobby wishes Master Harry thanks again for rescuing him. Dobby is eternally grateful.)

Maybe it was just the more constant exposure to him in this timeline, but it felt like he'd really gone above and beyond his 'canon' self. Though, if Hermione saw this… Well. She isn't here.

I grabbed the fork hesitantly and began to eat, as I stole the occasional glance back to the large window in front of me.

Perhaps you are worthy of my title after all.

Title. … Dragon Sovereign, I presumed. Is that what this all was? An inheritance of titles? Was I carrying on the mantle of someone else?

"Do not be so bold as to assume I would ever claim you, Weakling. I care little for your choice. Go ahead and make it, and be done with this place."

The voice of the Throne echoed in my skull again. The words pounded against the walls of my skull violently as I flashed back to the moment I pulled myself into the seat.

Sovereign. Daedalus always called me. I had assumed it was some weird quirk of his— like how Dobby always feels the need to call me Master. Like I had somehow been the owner of the system, or something. But no. I was Sovereign. The Dragon Sovereign, to be exact. But what did that mean? What sort of weight did this mean I had to carry?

I wasn't sure. And with the tingle I could feel on the back of my neck, as my hairs stood on end, I couldn't help but feel like I wouldn't find out anytime soon. After all, the last time I had thought too heavily, I'd passed ou—

Shit! I passed out in the middle of the fucking Great Hall!

But why was I in my own bed? Not the hospital wing?

"Daedalus."

The familiar growl of his voice filled my ears. "Ah. I wondered when you'd call." The smile on his face was evident, even when I couldn't see him. "Though, I must admit, I had hoped it would be far sooner than this. Perhaps I should've tempered my expectations, Wyrmling."

"What happened?" I nearly snarled in response, already tired of his games. "In the Great Hall. What happened?" Magic sparked at the tips of my fingertips and the words came out more forcefully than usual.

The air grew still and his smile disappeared. "My apologies, Sovereign." His tone shifted to become more formal. "I see now that my teasing was a misstep. Do forgive me. As for your incident earlier, do not worry. While you rested, I took over and kept you safe."

My blood chilled. "What do you mean took over? Speak plainly for once, Daedalus. The fuck did you do?" The fork in my hand shook slightly as my grip tightened.

"You needed rest. You'd nearly overloaded your circuits once more. Your body contains an incredible amount of power, Sovereign. But after the Dementor incident, you've gained access to far too much far too quickly." A small pause before Daedalus sighs. "I took control of your body before you blacked out."

He likely sensed my worry as he quickly continued, "but, I can not do it at will. It was an emergency situation where if I did not intervene, you would've hurt yourself. Or worse. I assure you, Sovereign. I have no intention of controlling you, nor your body. And I apologize for doing so without your consent."

The magic sparked across my fingertips again and I could feel something bubbling beneath my ribs. It wanted out. It would claw its way out if it had to. Daedalus' voice continued but I couldn't understand him as it felt like blood filled my ears.

"STOP." I nearly roared and magic surged out of my body. For a moment, I felt different— my teeth had been replaced by fangs, claws had dug their way out of my fingers, and scales rippled across my body— then nothing.

I quickly looked down at my body, my hands, and my arms. Nothing was out of place. Scales hadn't clawed their way out of my skin like armor. Claws hadn't ripped their way out of my hands, and as I quickly ran my tongue across my teeth, I hadn't suddenly grown fangs.

"Sovereign." Daedalus' voice filled the atmosphere once more, and I felt something sit down on the bed. Though nothing was there— even as a clawed hand reached out and clasped my own gently. "You're alright."

I didn't believe him.

I couldn't believe him.

"What the hell is happening?" Even my own voice felt unfamiliar and the thorns had filled my throat again. I quickly drank the pumpkin juice to alleviate the rough feeling. "Daedalus—" I gasped and took a deep breath. "What the fuck was that??"

It took a moment for Daedalus to respond. "Like I said, Sovereign. You're accessing far too much power, far too quickly. Your body needs time to adjust. Your emotions are making it… Difficult to control. More so than it would normally."

The room fell silent as I stared down at my hands — and the plate of food still on my lap — as I tried to control my heart pounding against my chest like war drums.

It took far too long to find my voice again. "What kind of power?" The question hung around my throat like a noose, and I could've swore it tightened as I looked up, to where I imagined Daedalus to be.

"… The power of a Dragon. And I don't mean the "Dragons" your Government classifies as mythical beasts. True Dragons. Apex monsters that wield magic, and breathe fire, and create Thrones among the bodies they leave behind." He spoke with an air of reverence to his voice as he spoke. "That day, when you appeared in the Palace, you chose to become a Dragon."

A colossal seat of stone with veins of molten gold carved across it like scars. Draped with various treasures and bones, it almost felt alive. Hungry.

The image of the throne flashed in my mind once more, and I felt a dull ache at the base of my spine. But I nodded for him to continue.

The hand squeezed mind comfortingly. "You could've chosen to become anything in there. A Heart-Devourer, or Eidolon Lord, or Eclipsed Monarch. Had you chosen a different Throne, you would merely be on a different path to the same destination. But you chose to become a Dragon, and that carries a burden of its own."

His voice trailed off and the room fell into silence once more. And then, he was there. The large, Draconic humanoid revealed himself, sat atop my bed with hand on top of mine. "Sovereign. You were given an opportunity— an immense opportunity— to become something. Something greater than you were. And you might feel like you were forced into this but you weren't."

"You appeared in that Palace, not by fate. You sat down in that Throne by choice. And every day afterwards, you have continued to take another step while carrying the Crown atop your head." Golden eyes watched me steadily. "The original soul in that body of yours was marked by dark magic. He would have played out his story once more, and played the part of the Hero. But you…" His voice trailed off and his hand moved up to caress my cheek gently.

I nearly leaned into his touch. To the warmth of his palm against my skin.

A single claw gently scrapes against my jaw as he continues speaking. "You have the opportunity to do far more than just survive in the story of another's shadow. That is why you were allowed to defy the Quest. You are not following the story of Harry Potter— you are making your own. But you are also young and inexperienced. I need you to try and trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart, because I do."

"I want you to survive. I want you to win and wrap your hand around this world's throat. I want you to rewrite history and create a future of your own design. But you can't. Not yet. So for now, please. Rest."

My eyelids suddenly became heavy and I slowly leaned into his hand.

"You have an entire lifetime ahead of you. And there are forces at work that will do everything in their power to snip that thread before it is woven. You are no use to anyone tired, much less dead. Rest, Sovereign. I will keep you company tonight. And tomorrow, we will begin everything you need."

It took everything I had to stop my eyes from closing and even then, it was a losing fight. I suddenly felt so warm, like I had been wrapped up tightly in a heated blanket, even while a snowstorm raged around me. My body grew tired and soon my head was buried into my pillow again.

"Goodnight, Harry." Daedalus spoke softly as he brushed some strands of hair from my face.

The darkness overtook me once more, and I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

It was the first night since I'd woken up in Harry's body that my mind had been silent. No nightmares. No dreams of indiscernible nature. No flashes of a life that I could still feel etched into my ribs. Just peace.

But all good things come to an end eventually, and so my eyes opened.

Everything felt still. Like the Castle itself had yet to stir. It all felt so… Alien. Hogwarts had — at least in my short time being here — always felt alive. Like a gentle, thrumming heartbeat beneath each step I took. The pulse of blood and magic beneath every breath I took.

But now— It was silent.

Unnervingly silent.

After a moment, I sat up in my bed as a soft sigh escaped my lips and stared down at my hands. My skin prickled and hummed with goosebumps as my hair stood on edge and I felt a little too warm beneath my blanket.

I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, and caught the faint fog of my breath in the air. "… This is going to be a learning experience." I pushed myself off the bed with a soft mutter, and then stumbled— my hand shooting out to grab the post and steady myself.

My own body felt weird. Like I was piloting blindfolded, with both hands tied behind my back. Another step— a near stumble— and then I moved towards the bathroom. I didn't notice how the doorway seemed just a little smaller than before.

Part of me really hoped that Ginny wouldn't make a return appearance today. I was too tired. Too worn out. Too… Pent up. Like every muscle was wound too tight, like a tourniquet around my bones. Last night's conversation scraped the back of my skull like claws and my fingers twitched, as if any minute now, claws of my own would sprout from the tips.

I couldn't think about it. Not now.

The shower flicked on and I slowly peeled the damp, slick clothes off of my body. A soft groan of annoyance filled the bathroom before being replaced by another groan — this time of pleasure — as I stepped beneath the cold spray. Muscles slowly unwound and my body shivered delightfully.

I had always heard about athletes using ice baths— and while I never took part in that— I could only imagine it was something kind of like this. The feeling of shocking your body with a freezing chill to force it to calm down. Demanding submission of your own muscles and the ache of adrenaline that fills your veins.

Or maybe I was in a more unique position than them, and looking into this far too much. But, none of that mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of water running down my back and the tile wall beneath my fingertips. The feeling of being grounded to this world.

Hummm.

The Castle stirred beneath my feet once more, like an animal stretched out in the morning sun. It all felt too… Alive. As if I could reach out and grab it by the throat to sink bloody claws into its flesh—

Gasp! I retched and grabbed for my own throat as my body shook violently. My stomach bubbled and I tried to fight the urge to vacate every ounce of my guts all over the wall. "Fuck!" My own voice rumbled as my free hand dug its fingers into the tile, searching for any single grip it could find. "Dobby!" I barely managed as I heard the snap.

A frantic voice, then another snap— then a third.

Soon there was a vial being pushed against my hand but I shook my head rapidly. If I let go of the wall, I was afraid I'd fall over. A makeshift cloth of different stitching filled my face and words filled my ears but I couldn't understand them. I felt my head tilt backwards and glass pressed against my lips before my throat filled with a thin, grassy liquid.

It took everything I had not to spit it out, or choke on the liquid as I took large gulps of it. As it settled in my stomach, my body slowly relaxed and my head fell gently against the wall of the shower. I took deep, gasping breaths as I slowly came down. Though my vision still swam, and I was sure I couldn't stand straight anytime soon.

"Ha… Tt…" A faint voice filled my ears. "Mas… Ok…" I couldn't make sense of any of it.

"Mmfin…" I mumbled softly as my hand slowly released its grip on my neck. "Tired…" Though my eyes closed and I winced, to try and fight back the urge to collapse.

More words filled the bathroom that I couldn't understand, yet I found myself sitting on the floor of the shower. Knees up to my head, and resting my forehead on top of them instead of the wall. If not for everything else, I would've said this actually really improved the situation. But as it was, I struggled to exist in this space.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there until I finally looked up and stared into Dobby's large, concerned eyes as he wrung his hands.

"Is Master Harry Potter alright?" He asked in a faint, frightened voice. "Dobby thought you be calling him for breakfast but then Dobby—" He could barely continue talking as tears poured down his face, and I reached over to gently rub his head.

"It's alright, Dobby." A small smile crossed my face as I continued to rub his head. "I just…" I didn't know what to tell him. Frankly, I had no fucking clue what just happened. "I'm alright. Thanks to you. I can always count on you to be there for me, Dobby. "

That probably wasn't the right thing to say, judging by how quickly Dobby had smashed his face into my leg and bawled his eyes out. But there was nothing I could do now except comfort him and hope no one walked in to find me naked, comforting a crying house elf.

… Fuck this was really awkward, huh.

It had taken me a while to get out of the shower. Or— it had felt like a while. I hadn't exactly kept track of the time.

Now? I was walking down to the Quidditch Pitch, broom in hand, and no plans for what to do once I got there. Other than kick off the ground and try to forget about everything I'd been through in the past twenty-four hours.

The walk down to the pitch felt… Long. Every step I took was like another lifetime spent. Every breathe I took was another reminder of how the Castle seemed to watch me, like a tiger stalking through the grass.

Never in my goddamn life did I imagine a Castle would unnerve me so horribly.

But I could only imagine this must've been a small fraction of what Sirius felt currently. Hell, he was being hunted by old friends, allies, teammates. The entire Auror Department of the DMLE was on his tail, and they had kill orders. If those monsters beneath the cloaks didn't find him first, and suck his soul out. I really needed to get him out of there. Get him somewhere safe.

My new house— Maybe. I wasn't as familiar with the wards as I'd wanted to, so I couldn't be sure of it's safety. Grimmauld Place could work… But I'd have preferred a Fidelius over the house first. Of course I needed to cast one of the most difficult fucking Charms just to make a safehouse for my psychotic Godfather-slash cousin? Fuck family trees.

There was always the Room of Requirement— but I couldn't guarantee that sort of safety either. Grimmauld or my own place would be the most likely candidates in the end. Preferably Grimmauld, if I was being honest with myself. Even if he would hate it, and boy fucking howdy would he hate it. At the very least, I can try and clean the damn place up first, and get Kreacher to stop being an asshole.

… That wasn't fair to Kreacher. But I'll deal with it later. I really wasn't in the mood to argue with myself over the treatment of a fucking House Elf right now.

"Fucks sake." I muttered softly, and rubbed my face. "Can't fucking deal with all of this shit."

Thankfully it didn't take much longer to reach the pitch. The scent of freshly cut grass, broom oil, and the autumn fair filled my nose and I inhaled deeply. I may not've been Harry — not really anyways — but his body remembered the feeling of kicking off on the broom for the first time. It remembered the metallic taste of the snitch— fUCK! — no. Not now. Fuck the Resurrection Stone. Nothing good can come of it right now.

I shook the thought of that blasted stone from my mind and swung my leg over the broom with a practiced ease, then kicked off the ground.

Flying on a broom was unlike anything I'd experienced in my life. The adrenaline of speeding through the air with little more than a stick of wood between your legs and in your hands. The feeling of the wind pushing against you as if it was trying to knock you off. The ground racing past at a million miles per hour, and any wrong turn could send you crashing hard.

It was beautiful. Amazing in the worst ways possible. Maybe I was biased— Harry Potter loved flying more than damn near anything in his life. And here I was, inhabiting his body. It only seemed reasonable that I'd enjoy it just as much.

But as I careened past the Quidditch Rings and took a sharp turn, part of me wondered if it was deeper than that. The muscles beneath my shoulders rippled and I nearly let go of the broom— as if I could leap across the sky and wings would sprout to carry me.

The longer I flew, the more it felt like everything just disappeared around me.

Sirius, Kreacher, Dumbledore, Voldemort— None of it mattered right now. … Maybe that wasn't accurate. It mattered. It mattered so much that my body ached whenever I thought about how I'd been dragged into a war long before I was even born. It felt like a dagger twisting beneath my ribs anytime I was reminded that the person who should've kept me safe — Professor Dumbledore — would intend to use me like a lamb for the slaughter.

Some part of me understood it. If there was another option, I'd like to believe it would've been used instead. But how much can you really do when it comes to killing a nigh-immortal Lich-like Wizard?

But no matter how much I tried to justify it, it didn't change anything. It didn't matter how logical it seemed— I had just been a fucking child! And you threw me to my death with little more than a riddle!

… I had been a child?

Harry… Had been a child…

My hands clenched the broom so tightly, I was sure it'd snap in my grip. Anger boiled in my chest and all of the emotions I'd been suppressing for the past few days came rushing back to me. The terror, the rage, the desperation— Everything that Dementor had ripped from my soul—

I screamed.

My voice roared across the pitch and ripped through my vocal cords as an explosion of magic shot out in all directions. All of the pent up pressure inside of me released in an instant, like the cracking of an atom that precipitated a mushroom cloud.

It felt like hours. But I knew it had been little more than a few seconds.

Once it had all been said and done, I slowly lowered myself to the ground — taking in deep, lungful breaths of air. Somehow, I felt better than I had in… I didn't know how long. Perhaps since I'd arrived in this world.

Even if this feeling ended up being temporary — and knowing my luck, it would be — I had no intention of wasting it. I pulled myself off the broom and fell backwards onto the pitch, staring up at the sky in dead silence as I watched the clouds.

I knew I had classes soon but in this moment… None of that mattered. For the next few minutes, all that mattered was how blue the sky looked. A beautiful, deep color that I couldn't remember seeing before. I could've sworn the grass beneath me reached up to cradle me. Like Hogwarts itself had come to appreciate this view with me.

…

My eyes slowly closed.

I wanted to sleep. Just for a little bit.

I wanted to sleep like when I was a boy.

Just one more time.

…

…

…

"Harry? You out here?"

Chapter Text

"Harry? Are you out here?" A feminine voice called out over the pitch, breaking through my concentration even as I'd nearly fallen asleep. "Harry?"

My eyes opened slowly as I sighed, and tilted my head just enough to find the familiar, bushy brown hair of my best friend standing towards the other end of the field. Butterflies fluttered briefly in my chest as I pushed myself up to a sitting position and waved my hand to attract her attention.

It took a moment for her to notice me, but when she did, she nearly sprinted across the field to reach me. "There you are! I was worried sick about you when you didn't come down for breakfast. And Ron said he didn't see you— and I couldn't find Dobby— and—" Her voice raised and she looked close to hyperventilating.

Until I grabbed her hand, forcefully pulled her down into my lap and into a tight hug. Fingers lightly raked across her spine and shoulders, as I whispered softly. "Shh, it's alright. I'm okay. It's alright." Her breathing slowed beneath my hands as I held her close. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

We stayed like that for close to a minute before she finally pulled away — eyes puffy, and hair slightly bushier than usual — with an almost pouty look on her face. "You have a bad habit of worrying me, Harry Potter." Her scolding, motherly voice sent a small shiver down my spine and I quickly nodded.

"Sorry. I don't mean to, honestly." I tried to look as apologetic as I could. I genuinely was sorry for worrying her! But my friends had been the last thing on my mind this morning. Hell. A lot of things had slipped my mind — like the fact that I was probably missing class right now— shit. "… Uhm— Hermione… I'm gonna pray real hard when I ask this… Am I missing a class right now?"

She stared at me silently for a moment before giggling. "Did the Harry Potter, troublemaker extraordinaire, just ask if he was missing a class?" It seemed like she wanted to tease me more, but then she started laughing uncontrollably, and shaking in my lap. I knew I'd lost her. There was no coming back from a damn laughing fit, and she was neck deep in it.

"… Hermione." I sighed after the laughter continued for so long that she was running out of air to use. "Hermione. It's not that funny— okay it's kinda funny. But I'm serious, I need to know if— … Hermione please."

She waved her hand at me apologetically, while still fucking wheezing. Frankly I'd considered just ditching her on the damn pitch, if I didn't… kind of enjoy the feeling of her on my lap right now. Thankfully, it didn't take her much longer to calm down enough to spit some damn words out. "Christ, Harry." She laughed a little more. "No, you're not missing class right now. I'm sure Dumbledore himself would be out here right now if you were."

I thought it over for a moment. "Okay. Yeah, you make a good point." Though the idea of Dumbledore storming the pitch while screaming "Harry Potter!" reminded me a little too much of a particular movie scene for my liking. "So… What, I miss breakfast and you come looking for me?"

Her neck turned a light shade of pink and she looked away. "Well I was— I was worried about you. And for good reason!" She turned back to me with furrowed eyebrows and a look of annoyance on her face, as if I'd just asked her for answers to the test. "I mean seriously, what were you thinking! Even without those Dementors out here, how often have you nearly been killed at this school in the past two years? Quirrel, "Fluffy," the Basilisk, freaking Lockheart!"

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." I held up my hands in a show of peace. "I know, it was stupid. I just— … I needed a moment to clear my head. I've been thinking about… Padfoot," her face softened, "lately. Y'know, his situation. Dobby's been keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn't get into trouble. But just.."

I took a moment to myself. A soft breath escaping my lips as I imagined Sirius' gaunt face, and stick-thin body. Twelve years in Azkaban had nearly driven the man over the damn edge before. And now it was… What, seventeen? I really needed to get the man a therapist. And drunk. Plenty fucking drunk. I swallowed as Hermione's face filled my vision again, replacing Sirius.

Our gaze held, even as the words dragged their way up my throat. "It's been tough. I'm sorry for not saying anything."

Her face softened further and she buried herself into me again. Arms wrapped tightly around my body, and squeezing me with more force than I thought the witch could summon. My nose filled with her scent, something herbal and clean. Minimal. Eventually, I brought my own arms to wrap around her in kind, and held her close.

"Just please…" She nearly whimpered in my ear. "Please don't leave us behind again. The next time you get some stupid idea about being the hero, take us with you." She sat up straight and stared into my eyes as determination filled her own.

My voice caught in my throat.

You know how you always see those protagonists in the movies, or books, or what have you — and they always say the same damn thing: "I don't want you to get hurt." And it's always bullshit. The story always works out better when you're working together.

Until you're there in the moment. When it's your friends in the crossfire. If the whole world is hanging on your shoulders, and you know you can carry that burden alone… It's hard to justify letting someone else help you. And hell, I was about to get dragged into a magical fucking war with the strongest, most dangerous Dark Wizard that we'd ever seen.

And sure. Maybe part of it was Harry. His stupid goddamn urges to hide away and take everything on by himself. But it didn't matter. Here I was, staring into the eyes of my best friend, knowing that someday, she'd have to watch someone die. She'd have to kill in order to defend herself or others. How the fuck do you ask that of someone? Especially someone you cared for.

"Okay. I won't."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them and the young witch grinned brightly. Maybe she wouldn't have been so happy if she knew just how bad things could get.

"Thank you, Harry. Really." She quickly leaned in and kissed my cheek, then pushed herself up out of my lap. "We should probably get going though. Assuming you were serious about not missing classes." She flashes me one more smile, then sauntered off towards the castle, cloak gently billowing behind her.

I stayed on the pitch for a little bit longer, as I watched her. The grass still warm beneath my palms, and the sky still impossibly blue. For just another moment, I could almost believe I was a young school boy. Not the blood-caked soldier that I'd need to become.

Honestly, I didn't know if I'd just made a promise I could keep.

But… For the first time since waking up in this body — in this life — I wanted to try.

Chapter Text

Hermione was nervous, that much was obvious. Her leg bounced rapidly beneath the table and she looked around, hoping to find even a brief glance of messy, black hair and bright green eyes. Food forgotten on the table as her hands fidgeted— tapping, picking, anything to keep her mind off the worst outcomes.

If anyone could— it'd be him, obviously. She had faith in that, at least. But if anyone would— … It'd also be him. He had a bad habit of throwing himself head first into danger. Hell, danger had a bad habit of throwing itself head first into him. But surely not? It was only the beginning of the year— … And he'd nearly been assaulted by Dementors on the train ride over.

That thought did nothing to help her.

"Hermione." Ron's voice cut through her thoughts, muffled with the remaining bits of food in his mouth. "Can you stop bouncing your leg so much? You're acting like he's run off on his own to… Kill you-know-who or something. He's fine. I saw him this morning. He's probably just sleeping in. Merlin knows he needs it."

She barely spared him a(n annoyed) glance then turned back to look at the large doors leading to the hallway. "When has he ever slept in, Ron? Especially when it comes to breakfast? And all those… Dementors out there— He shouldn't be on his own. Hell, what if he ran off to find Si— Padfoot??"

Ron just shoveled some more food into his mouth and shrugged. "I douh iht. Harry wouldn' run ohf without sa—" he swallowed "—saying something about it. Hell, remember when— … I guess you weren't there actually. Well, when Ginny got taken, he told Neville to let McGonagall know where we were going so they could meet us there. Of course, he ran off after. But he still told someone first."

Maybe he had a point. Of course, she had been in the goddamn hospital wing after getting snuck up on by the Basilisk, so she'd missed that particular incident. But, yeah. He'd always told someone, as far as she remembered. Hell, she was the one who stunned Neville in their first year, so it wasn't like she had much room to talk.

Still. She didn't like it. She'd hoped this year would be calmer but they hadn't even reached the damn school before Dementors had attacked, and Harry dropped the whole "hey, my Godfather actually didn't murder my whole family" bomb on them. But sure. Maybe she was overreacting. Surely he was fine.

Her leg kept bouncing.

The flapping of wings filled the hall, and Ron nudged her shoulder. "Look. There's Hedwig. Do you really think she'd be here if Harry fucked off?" He looked at her with a nearly smug "hah, told you" look on his face.

"Yes. Especially if she's bringing us a damn letter, telling us why!" She nearly hit him. She really, really wanted to. He could be such a stupid ass sometimes, it was— insufferable. But she shouldn't jump to conclusions. Hedwig knew them, so she'd check what the letter was, then figure it out from there.

Her leg kept bouncing, even as the snowy owl landed in front of them and chirped passively.

"Hey there, gorgeous." She spoke softly and reached over to gently scratch her in the way she'd seen Harry do a few times. "You got a letter? Can I see it?" Another chirp and a nibble on her finger was her answer, as Hedwig lifted her foot and allowed Hermione to take it.

Harry Potter, Hogwarts

From, Amelia Bones

She stared at the letter silently for a moment as she tried to process it. Why the hell was Amelia Bones of all people writing him?

Ron leaned over and squinted. "Why is Amelia Bones writing for Harry? You think he's in trouble with the Ministry? … Or maybe it's about the Dementors? They wanna apologize for it?"

Okay, maybe Ron had his moments. "… Mm." She bit her bottom lip nervously. "I don't think so. If it was trouble, someone else would've written it… Or it wouldn't be so… Casual looking. Maybe the Dementor situation though…" Her voice trailed off as her leg finally slowed down.

Hedwig chirped again and moved over towards Ron to lightly peck at him until he fed her. "Oi!"

Her fingers brushed the words on the envelope. Amelia Bones. The current Head of the DMLE was writing to him… Maybe it was the Dementors.

"I believe that with this," Harry's fingers grasped the ring and twisted it gently, "and with a little bit of luck, I can force the Wizengamot to exonerate Sirius. Whether by providing proof that he didn't do it or…"

"By force." Ron spoke up from his side of the cabin.

He nodded. "By force. The Boy Who Lived carries a lot of weight, and I'm not against throwing it around if I have to. But I'd rather keep that card in my back pocket for later, if I need it." And for a brief moment, it almost looked like his eyes were glowing.

Oh.

No.

… Surely not?

She mulled it over as she traced the words — Amelia Bones — again and again. He'd mentioned the Wizengamot on the train, as part of his plan to exonerate Sirius. But… Well. Maybe. Getting on Amelia's good side could certainly be a way of doing it.

Her leg started bouncing again, before she suddenly stood up. "I'll be back. I'm gonna go look for him." And before Ron could argue, she made her way towards the doors leading out into the hallway. She had an idea of where he might be, if he wasn't in his dorms, and if he wasn't in the Great Hall. She just hoped she was right. Otherwise, her next stop was to Professor Dumbledore. As much as it almost felt like a betrayal of her friend— She had to be sure he was safe.

But first things first.

She moved quickly through the halls as she slipped the letter into her bag for safekeeping. She'd find him, give him the letter, maybe scold him a bit, and everything would be fine. Yeah. He was safe. He was just taking time to himself.

He had to be safe.

As she pushed the doors open to the pitch, her heart started to beat more quickly in her chest. He had to be here. If anywhere… It had to be here.

… "Harry? Are you out here?"

She hadn't noticed it before, but Harry had actually started to fill out in his own ways as well. She didn't think he'd match Ron in height, or Charlie in brutish figure but… He'd grown a little fuller over the summer. Perhaps living on his own had finally allowed him to indulge in food just a bit more. Whatever it was, he looked good. At the very least, Mrs. Weasley would hopefully not harass him so much about eating.

Though he still felt… Off. She couldn't quite place it, but ever since the train, he'd just… Felt strange. But considering he'd used a high level spell to ward off a Dementor, maybe she'd just started seeing him in a different light.

Yeah. Maybe.

"So," she redirected her thoughts, "you mentioned Padfoot. Do you mind if I ask what you've been thinking about? I know it's only been a few days but maybe the three of us could sit down sometime and discuss how to help him?"

A warm smile crossed his face and his hand grabbed hers gently, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Though it didn't last long. "If I'm being honest, I'm not sure how to actually— I don't wanna say kidnap him but— … kidnap him. Like I said, he's innocent, but… Seventeen years in Azkaban, he won't really recognize me, and he'll be on edge."

"Good point." Her hand twitched slightly, already missing the feeling of his own fingers with hers. "Especially if we're going to be taking him to therapy, we need to be careful. One wrong step could easily make things worse for him— or us. I might be able to find some books on— what'd you say he was? A dog?"

A small nod.

"Okay. Then maybe I could find some books on dealing with feral or traumatized animals. If we can get him down near Hogsmeade, then it'll be easier of course. Especially if they don't know he's an animagus. Gain his trust first, then go from there. Right?" She looked at him hopefully.

Harry stayed silent for a few seconds before he gave her another nod. "Yeah, I think that'll work. Especially if we feed him. God forbid, he's probably starving right now as it is—" Hermione let out a soft, sad whimper "—so we're definitely going to need a Medi-Witch as well. Someone who can help him with his diet and physical injuries." He hummed softly. "What if we took him out of the country?"

She looked at him with a slight head tilt. "What do you mean? Why would we do that?"

"Well." He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "We need to exonerate him, right? That's going to be a long process. So, we take him somewhere without an extradition treaty between the Ministries. Or even just somewhere that isn't so heavy with his goddamn trauma. Canada could be nice. He might like the snow."

… "That's actually not a terrible idea, Harry." Her lips widened into a smile and her arm wrapped around him as she pulled him into a side hug. "You've really put a lot of thought into this. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." He laughed softly, though his neck turned a slight tinge of pink as he cleared his throat. "But uh— yeah. It'd be easier to find someone willing to work with him too, I think. Right? They won't feel as… Connected to it all. And I'm sure he'd be safer there too, away from any Death Eaters who want to try and finish the job."

She hugged him tighter as her heart dropped. "Do you really think they would?" She already knew the answer. She just didn't want to believe it. "I mean— they're all locked up, right? And y—… Voldemort," she shuddered, "is gone, I thought? At least for now?"

"Maybe." It was his turn to wrap an arm around her, hugging her back as his hand rubbed her side. "But it's worth considering. Hell, what if the Ministry wants to cover up their own tracks? I mean sure, it was war but it wouldn't look good if they locked up an innocent man for seventeen years, right? Even if it was a different administration at the time."

She tried to remember who the administration even was at the time— Barty Crouch Sr. right? Candidate for the Minister position, and prior Head of the DMLE. From what she could remember, he hadn't been very judicious in his rulings at the time, though one could hardly blame him. As Harry'd said, there was an entire war going on.

Except someone like Lucius had gotten off scot free due to the damned "Imperius" curse. So, perhaps some blame was warranted.

"Right. That makes sense." She nodded. "So, we find a way to safely convince him to come with us," a small (but playful) glare to Harry that caused him to start laughing, "and then we get him out of the country. Maybe we should find someone that can check on him first just to make sure he's healthy enough to travel? … But I'm not sure where I'd even start."

Harry continued laughing for a few seconds, before he spoke. "I got an idea, actually." The ring flashed onto his hand, and she could feel the faint hum of its magic even through her clothes. "I've been looking through the Black Family Tree lately, and I found someone— an Andromeda Tonks née Black. Granted, she was blasted off the family tree once she married a muggleborn—"

Hermione's face turned sour, but she kept her thoughts to herself for now.

"—but she also gave birth to a Nymphadora Tonks— the first Black in centuries to have Metamorphagus abilities. Andromeda also happens to be a Medi-Witch, and Padfoot's older relative. So, I reckon if anyone might be willing to hear us out, it'd be her. Of course I'd need to get a letter to her, and see if she's willing to meet for lunch but… I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad."

Letter….

Right! The letter! Damnit!

She internally cursed herself and quickly rummaged through her bag to find the letter. "Oh, Harry! You actually got a letter today at breakfast. Crap… Sorry, I meant to tell you but we kinda got sidetracked for a minute there." Until she eventually found it and held it out to him. "Promise I didn't read it. But it's from an Amelia Bones."

His face quickly flickered between surprise and something else before he got it under control, then took the letter from her. "Thanks. I uh—" He glanced at her. "I've been trying to sweet talk my way into her good graces. Partly because I think the DMLE could use a bit more help but also because I think she could be helpful to our cause. Assuming I can get the proper evidence to actually, y'know, convince her."

"Harry Potter. Doing things by the book for once?" She clicked her tongue in amusement. "And here I thought you were gonna tell me you planned on bribing the poor woman to look the other way." Though the sparkle in her eye said she believed anything but.

He snorted and began to open the letter. "Please. If anyone could bribe the Lady of Iron, then Lucius would've already met the punch eons ago. Fortunately for us, she's not so easy to persuade without hard facts and evidence. Though that's also going to make this whole thing a little bit harder." His eyes began to flicker over the letter as he read it quickly.

"… Oh. Actually maybe not that hard." He said after a moment, still reading. "She's asking me to lunch, apparently. I guess I'll have a good opportunity to temperature check the whole uh… Padfoot situation with her, then."

She leaned over, nearly pressing her face into his shoulder to try and read the letter. "That's convenient. But you should still be careful. If she gets the hint that you're harboring a fugitive like him, before we can convince her of his innocence, this could backfire spectacularly. Especially since we don't even actually have him yet."

"Yeah, trust me, I'll be careful." There was a small pause as he turned to look at her. "… Okay, bad choice of words."

Hermione laughed with a small nod. "Very. But I get what you mean." Her laughter turned into a bright smile and she hugged him just a little more. "And I'll trust you. As long as you trust Ron and I, like we discussed."

"Of course. I promised."

She had just been about to tease him again before the halls began to fill with students as breakfast was finally let out. "Guess we should get going to class, then, huh?" She turned to look at him, meeting those emerald green eyes that seemed to sparkle faintly in the light. "Unless you're intending to skip, just like breakfast~"

"Not funny." He grumbled and nudged her with his waist. "C'mon, we got Divination today—" Hermione groaned, "— so we better hurry up and get it over with."

She groaned and pulled away from the hug finally, just to grab his hand in hers as she dragged him along through the halls. "Fine. C'mon, you. And you're not skipping out on lunch today, Harry! Even if I have to hex you and bring you down here myself."

His hearty laughter filled the halls as they jogged towards their first class of the day together. "Deal." Though he didn't notice the way Hermione squared her shoulders, nor the look of fierce, protective determination that flickered across her face.

But she noticed the faint, tired lines that crossed his.

Chapter Text

I don't think I'd ever been more nervous since I stepped foot in this body. My leg bounced and thumped the ground like an anxious jackrabbit, and nothing I could do would stop it, short of nailing it down or cutting the damn thing off.

It must've been a funny sight. Harry Potter, waiting by the entrance doors with a bouqet of flowers, and looking like a puppy that was about to dirty the floor. Sure didn't fucking feel funny. And every second that passed by, as I scoured the crowd moving students for Daphne, only made it worse and worse.

My heart thumped in time with the seconds like an internal clock, beating against my ribs in a violent, anxious pattern.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

This was definitely a stupid idea. Who the hell brings flowers to a Hogsmeade Weekend? Definitely not Harry. Though, he had been as goddamn clueless as I was when it came to this thing. A simple gesture had quickly turned into a nearly nauseating act of irregularity. I still had time, realistically. I could just dump these on a random person, burst them into flames, or chuck them as hard as I could into the fall air and hope it got swept away somewhere else.

Yeah. I should do that—

"Harry!"

Oh crap.

I turned my head towards the voice with a "hey—" before my voice caught in my throat, and dug its claws into my vocal cords.

Daphne gently swayed towards me with a light smile on her face, and I took in her appearance with ever so slightly widening eyes. A soft, fitted, pale sage green blouse that clung to her body and highlighted the forest green cardigan she wore as an extra layer against the cold. My eyes moved lower to the knee-length, black skirt and dark-leather ankle boots.

Every time I saw her, she surprised me— stole my breath away from me effortlessly. Honestly, I had to commend her on it, if I had the air in my lungs to speak. She definitely made me feel inadequate in my own t-shirt, jacket, and jeans.

Maybe one of these days I'd take her up on that fashion advice offer from a while back.

She stopped just shy of me, hands clasped behind her back and a playful grin on her face, as she tilted her head just enough to look me in the eyes. "If I knew this getup would elicit such a reaction from you, I'd have reconsidered~" Her tone was light, teasing. "You like it, then?"

The words continued to escape me for far too long. But, eventually, I swallowed and forced them out.

"You look really pretty." My hand thrust forward with the bouquet and held it out for her before I could change my mind and toss them. "… These are for you." I could've swore my neck was on fire.

Her ice-colored eyes flicked down to the flowers— now it was her turn to look shocked. Her eyes widened, and the playful grin turned slightly as her mouth opened wordlessly. Her gaze moved quickly over the different flower types to take it all in, leaving me standing there as the heat in my neck only got worse.

"… Sorry if it's too much." I said after a moment as I did my best to ignore the way my hand practically vibrated. "I wasn't sure how— any of this works. This is my first time actually going to Hogsmeade with someone that wasn't—" my voice caught in my throat again. Technically, Harry had never been to Hogsmeade in this timeline. "… Well, I guess anyone, actually."

Daphne continued to stare at the flowers, even as she reached over and gently plucked the bouqet from my shaking hand. Her own fingers wrapped around it in a gentle embrace as she brought it closer, still studying every inch of them.

Eventually, she spoke up. "It's— They're really beautiful, Harry. Did… Did you pick these out yourself?" Her gaze finally lifted from the flowers to look at me, eyes full of silent questions.

I shook my head. "No, I uh— I had help from the florist. I told her that I was visiting Hogsmeade with a friend, and uhm—" I gestured vaguely at the flowers, as if the silent gesture would explain literally anything. "She said they would be good."

"Mm. Yes." The florist said with a small nod. "I've got just the set for you, young man." And then she quickly scurried off towards the back, returning a few minutes later with a small bundle of freshly picked flowers in her hand. "This here is Scottish Thistle. They're quite strong, able to survive plenty of winters. I've also included some White Heather, for… Good fortune, among friends. And some Rowan Sprigs, for protection against Dark Magic."

I looked the flowers over for a brief moment, then nodded as I pulled out my small bag of galleons. "That'll be perfect, thank you, Ma'am."

The memory of the interaction filled my brain as I watched Daphne's reaction to the flowers. Perhaps I'd been a little too quick to jump on them. She had said they were beautiful but— "… Daphne?" It was obvious that something about it had caught her off guard.

"… Sorry." Daphne nearly whispered as her eyes flicked between mine and the flowers again. "… Uhm— Harry…" She started, then paused, then started again. "In pureblood circles, mainly, flowers have a sort of… Meaning. To them."

It felt like everything deflated suddenly, and I nodded. "Oh. Yeah, I know. The florist said the thistle is a sign of endurance, the heather is for good fortune, and the sprigs are for protection." It all made sense now. She was just worried about how to explain the meaning of the flowers to me, and had assumed I was unaware. No big deal.

She stared at me for a second before a gentle laugh escaped her lips. "That's one interpretation, definitely."

My blood ran cold.

"The thistle," Daphne continued, even as I felt my face go numb, "can be for endurance. It can also be for protection. Or devotion. Some families consider it similar to saying "I choose you, despite the hardships." As if you're willing to grow the relationship and endure the "winters" — or sometimes the fallout."

My eyes widened as I realized how fucking out of my depth I'd suddenly become.

But she didn't stop there. "The heather and good fortune as well, but it can also mean protection or a desire for lasting bonds. Often associated with old magic, and wards." Another small pause and her cheeks turned a light red. "… My grandmother likes to wear this to weddings."

"Oh."

She pointed to the last bundle of flowers, gently tracing her finger over the leaves. "The sprigs were actually the closest. They're usually given as a promise of safety. Often used in oaths, or guardianships." Her eyes turned towards me again. "Your parents would've been given sprigs like this by your Godparents. For instance. But it could also be given to… your partner's parents. As a promise of keeping them safe."

There was a moment of silence between us, as Daphne continued to gently trace the sprig leaves. "Now… Were my parents here, they might expect me to respond in kind. They might even ask what your intentions with me were."

My eyes widened again and I tried to spit out something even remotely legible but really only succeeded in making a bunch of rasping noises.

"Relax, Harry." She giggled softly, lifting the bouquet to her face so she could smell them. "I know what you were going for. It's very thoughtful of you. And I won't make you declare some betrothal to me — we've only known each other a few weeks now, after all." The sharp smirk on her face told me that she enjoyed my flustered appearance a little too much.

Goddamn witch.

"But," she said with a sharp click of her tongue and a wicked grin that told me I was in trouble, "I will ask that you hold my hand on the way down at the least. After all, it would be the gentlemanly thing to offer a Lady, no?"

Whatever color my face had left, was surely replaced by cherry tomato red — which only served to make her giggle, all the while looking at me expectantly with that same, torturous grin.

"You'd be correct." My voice nearly cracked as I tried to act more confident than I actually felt as I reached my hand out for her. "… Is this for being a shithead during potions?" My eyebrows furrowed as I watched her grin get even larger, as she took my hand in hers — fingers interlocked, and the warmth of her skin against mine.

"I have no clue what you mean, Harry."

"Fuck off, Greengrass." I huffed and moved towards the main doors. "I already signed us out, so we don't need to worry about Filch being an—" I quickly cut myself off as I noticed Flinch leering at us as we got closer, before it grew further into nearly disgust at seeing our hands clasped together. Though he didn't say anything as we passed by him and out into the courtyard, as a gentle breeze flitted through the air.

My mind continued to think about the flowers, even as we walked down to Hogsmeade. My gaze occasionally flicked back over to the bouquet in her hand as I tried to rationalize everything, even as her thumb lightly brushed my knuckles. I had meant them as a nice gift to a friend— or I guess for my first real date— that really didn't make any of this better. It wasn't like I intended to ask her out officially, or anything— we barely knew each other!

"I said," Narcissa's voice filling my ears as her steady gaze locked onto me. "That I am willing to marry you, if it means I can become Narcissa Black, once more."

Yeah. There was that, too. And the shower moment with Ginny, and Hermione kissing my cheek earlier. Oh, and the fact that I had fucking Voldemort trying to hunt me down, and I could only imagine how pissed off the Slytherins would be if one of their own started dating Gryffindor's golden boy.

This shit sucked.

"She gave you an out." Daedalus spoke softly in my ear. "Be grateful she's not as clueless as you."

Piss off.

"So," Daphne's voice broke my concentration. "Where did you want to go first?"

As soon as the doors opened, it was like all of the cold of the Dementors — and the fall air — was washed away in a tsunami of warmth. Maybe I was starting to understand why Harry and crew had gone to the Three Broomsticks so much. … Or maybe they were just alcoholics. … Was Butterbeer actually alcoholic— No, I'm not getting into the legalities of Wizard drinking. I'm on a… A date. Yeah. Let's just focus on that, Harry.

We'd barely made it through the front door before Rosmerta — "a curvy sort of woman with a pretty face" was a damn accurate description of her — swung herself over to greet us. A charming smile on her face and no doubt some welcoming words on her lips that were silenced as her gaze landed on the flowers and our hands linked together.

"First time bringing flowers, Potter?" As the smile slowly transformed into a knowing, teasing grin as my cheeks turned a gentle pink color.

I opened my mouth to say something to defend myself, but I couldn't find the right words.

"They're traditional." Daphne said smoothly, with a slight smirk on her face in return. As if she and Rosmerta were having a silent conversation all on their own, even as her hand gently squeezed mine for emphasis.

These goddamn witches.

Rosmerta let out a soft chuckle. "Quite. Now, let's get you two seated, hm? What'll you be having?" She moved towards the back area, and gestured us to follow with a small flick of her hand.

"Hot chocolate, please." Daphne nearly pulled me along, not missing a single beat as she followed the Landlady. Her eyes met mine for a moment, before she spoke again. "Make that two, actually. Thank you."

Honestly, I didn't even feel like complaining. My tongue was so damn tied up in my mouth that I was sure Draco had cursed me in the back when I wasn't looking. I had no issue if Daphne felt like taking charge for the day. Especially if it meant I didn't make myself look like an ass— arse? I'll just stick with ass.

"I never took you for an ass man."

Daedalus. Leave me to my date in peace, thank you.

I slid into one of the seats at the table, and looked up at Daphne, expecting her to take the seat across from me. But as she pulled the chair out directly next to me and sat down, I could feel my entire face heating up again. Especially as her perfume — floral and rich — filled my nose and made my head swim.

"I'll be right back, sweeties." Rosmerta quickly sauntered off back towards the bar, leaving us alone with the chattering off patrons around us to fill the silence we shared.

I kept my eyes focused on the table as my fingers lightly tapped against the dark, spruce wood nervously. I knew I had to say something but— fuck it. Fuck it. "… Daphne— I—" A lump grew in my throat, which I quickly swallowed. "Sorry if this isn't the best so far, I'm uhm…"

"Incredibly, horrifically new to being asked on a date with a cute girl?" Her tone had lost a lot of its tease, though a small hint of it remained, mostly replaced by an almost affirming gentleness. "It's alright." Her hand reached over atop mine, our fingers interlocking as she stopped my nervous tapping. Then, her other hand reached over and gently grabbed my chin to tilt my head so I was looking at her.

She smiled warmly, and suddenly those icy blue eyes didn't seem so cold. "Really, it's okay. I haven't been on a lot of dates myself—" I must've looked surprised because she laughed. "—I know. But it's true. One of the downsides of being a Pureblood, I guess. Our… Systems are a little different. But… I'm enjoying this. If only because you're like a little puppy, and it's cute seeing the "great Harry Potter" get brought down just because of a small trip to Hogsmeade."

I blinked a few times, then started laughing. Which only caused her to look at me with a raised eyebrow in silent questioning. "It's just—" I tried to speak between laughs. "Like you said. After the shit I've been through, and going on a date with you is what finally gets me nervous. A fuckin' pretty girl knocks me to my knees, of all things."

Her eyes widened a little, even as I continued to laugh at how absurd it all was. But then she joined me in the laughter with her own soft chuckles. "I guess you make a good point. If anything, you should be on your knees, thanking me for the date." She joked as her hand squeezed mine again.

"Careful, Greengrass." I teased back. "Or I just might."

It was finally her turn for her cheeks to flush a deep shade of red as she slapped my shoulder. "Don't you dare!" She glared at me as I laughed even harder, though I muffled myself with my own hand so I didn't disturb the bar patrons. "Damnit, Potter, I swear." She huffed as I continued laughing into my hand.

Luckily, I was spared by another slap to my shoulder as Rosmerta came over with two large mugs of hot chocolate and set them down in front of us. "Enjoy, you two." She gave Daphne a small wink and then she was off again, weaving smoothly between the tables as another group came through the door.

Daphne was the first to grab her mug, using it to hide her blush as she sipped it gingerly. But when she set the mug back down, I moved my hand back over and slipped my fingers in between hers as we shared the heat of the mug.

For my first real date… Things were definitely going better than expected.

I really should learn to keep my mouth shut.

The moment we entered Honeydukes, my senses were assaulted by the insane amount of colors, smells, and sounds that filled the large shop. I winced as I heard the faint, exploding sounds of a strange candy in some student's mouth and nearly turned back towards the door to leave, though Daphne's hand on my back stopped me.

"Easy, hero." She leaned in close to whisper into my ear. "I got you. Just stay focused on me, and we'll be in and out. Alright?" Her nails lightly raked down my back through my shirt as I gave her a small nod. "Good. C'mon. I'll even get you a bag."

Her fingers lightly pressed against my back to guide me across the store floor and over to a more calm section, as she grabbed two large bags along the way. "So, what kinda sweet tooth do you have? … Actually, have you ever been to Honeydukes before?" She quickly looked at me just in time to catch my small head shake, and her face lit up. "Never?? Oh you're in for a treat. Just let me handle it." A large grin spread across her lips as she quickly dragged me further towards the towering sections of candy.

"Alright… Let's see…" She scoured the large variety of candy as she muttered various thoughts and ideas to herself, eventually starting to fill the bags. "Chocolate frogs of course. Hm… Creamy fudge— Do you like vanilla or salted caramel? … Eh we'll do both."

I couldn't help but smile as I watched her. "Honestly, Daph, just grab anything you like. I'm sure it'll be good."

"Oh, you're on now. Don't complain to me later when you find something you hate." She gave me a fierce grin with a slight twinkle of anticipation in her eye as she quickly grabbed some more candies. "Sherbert lemons of course… Peppermint humbugs… Cauldron cakes definitely." This continued on for what felt like several minutes as she moved with purpose, plucking sweets from the shelves easily — with the occasional pause to explain them to me, or tease me.

Eventually, she tied the bag close and pressed it into my hands with a sweet smile. "Trust me. This is a good starting point." She took a moment to adjust her own bag, still carrying the bouqet with her. "And if you're lucky, maybe we'll come back sometime for more."

Time slipped by easier than I expected. We wandered from shop to shop, sometimes talking, sometimes simply existing with each other. Bags of candy swinging gently at our sides as our hands stayed locked together.

At some point, the anxiety had slowly disappeared and replaced itself with a more quiet confidence. I was still completely out of my element, especially with someone like Daphne freaking Greengrass, but I think I'd started to just accept it. As long as I didn't need to fight any Slytherins— or Gryffindors— because of it, I didn't really care.

"You're lucky we're on a date, Harry," Daphne teased, "else I'd probably take you there." She gestured off towards a shop, labeled "Gladrags Wizardwear" with a few statues visible through the windows, draped in some rather… Unique looking clothes. "I could help you look a bit more… Put together, one of these days. Y'know, to impress the ladies."

My heart slammed against my chest.

"… I wouldn't mind it." This was such a stupid idea. "We could go right now, if you wanted? We've still got time— woah!" And suddenly I was being pulled towards the shop quickly, realizing that she had way more strength in her body than I'd expected. But I couldn't help laughing at how excited she was.

The inside of the shop wasn't as warm as the Three Broomsticks, nor as chaotic as Honeydukes had been. But it was strangely comforting, in its own way. Peaceful. Though incredibly intimidating as I looked around at the sheer amount of different clothing options. Yeah, I was definitely out of my element here.

But Daphne? No. She was practically the Queen of this shop the moment she stepped foot through the door. She moved sharply through the store, as I tried to follow along without losing her admist the sea of fabric. "Hm…" She hummed softly as she suddenly stopped and looked at a nearby set of clothes with a steady gaze. "Don't worry. We won't go too crazy, today."

Somehow, that didn't comfort me as much as I think she wanted it to. But I didn't mind too much, as I watched her elegantly dance through the different clothing options, slowly putting together a whole outfit onto her arm with barely more than the occasional glance towards me.

It had all blended together at one point, and suddenly I found myself in the middle of a dressing room as Daphne laid out the clothes, then excused herself to let me dress in private. "I'll be right outside, come out when you're ready." As she closed the curtain and stepped away.

What in the hell, had I gotten myself into?

It took me longer than I'd wanted initially to get dressed, partly because I kept looking in the mirror at myself, trying to see if I could convince myself that I looked like anything other than a little boy wearing someone else’s clothes. Gods, one of these days I really needed to fucking get the Dursleys for screwing this dude's mental health up.

Regardless of my own thoughts on how I looked, I had to admit that Daphne actually had a decent sense of style. The main piece of the outfit was a dark, forest green long-sleeved shirt that fit damn near perfectly on my frame, with a small row of emerald-colored buttons on the collar. Then it was a lightweight jacket and a comforting pair of dark jeans that seemed to sit better on my waistline.

My own boots had been replaced by a pair of leather boots. I still almost preferred my own, but mostly because they had been built for durability, whereas these were more a fashion piece. But… They looked good, I couldn't deny that.

Another brief look in the mirror, a moment of anxious hesitance, and then I pushed the curtain open and stared at Daphne silently, waiting for her judgement.

She returned my gaze with a slight tilt of her head and a gentle hum. Then she moved towards me, nearly pressing her body right up against mine as she reached up and grabbed my shirt collar to adjust it as I quickly looked away from her. Though her perfume invaded my nose once more, and I felt my face heating up again.

"Oh— Sorry." She said after a moment and quickly backed away from me, her own face a light shade of pink. "… Just uhm. Fixing your collar. You look good though. Really good, I like it. Still… You. Just, sharper."

I cleared my throat and gave her a nod. "Thanks. Couldn't have done it without you."

The pink stayed on her cheeks, even as she grinned up at me. "Glad you're starting to learn, Potter. C'mon." She twirled on the spot and quickly made her way over to the counter. Before I could even catch up to her, she was already handing over the galleons to the clerk.

"Don't worry," she cut me off before I could say anything. "You'll get the next one, right?" A small smirk on her face, as if daring me to try and insist on paying for the clothes.

But I didn't. I just laughed softly and took her hand in mine once more.

The crowds had thinned a lot by now. Students had gotten their fill of candy and funny pranks, then settled into the Three Broomsticks, or made their way back to the castle for a night of relaxation before the next week of classes came around.

Everything was peaceful. The trees swayed gently in the wind, the streets were filled with the smell of cooked food from different shops or stalls, and even the bag of candy in my hand had started to feel a lot lighter.

Even Daphne and I had eventually decided to retire, finding a nice spot on a quiet bench — away from the hustle and bustle of the large village, along with the prying eyes of those spotting Harry Potter holding hands with Ice Queen Daphne Greengrass. Though, after everything that happened today, I really couldn't understand where the hell Ice Queen had actually come from.

But none of that mattered.

"This is nice." Daphne spoke up, before she tossed a small piece of chocolate into her mouth and allowed it to melt against her tongue. "Spending time with you— I mean. It's uh… It's a nice change of pace, for sure."

I smiled as I took a bite of the fudge, and felt my mouth water at the taste. The subtle vanilla taste coating my tongue as the chocolate broke apart and revealed a creamy filling inside. "Yeah, it really is. Thank you for coming with me, Daphne. I had a really good time. We should—" The words caught in my throat.

"Should what?" She turned in her seat a little to look at me, as she casually plopped another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

I gently squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch again, which seemed to melt away the anxiety. "… We should do this again. Go on a date, I mean. Or just— y'know. Hang out or something." I quickly tried to cover it up, and act like I wasn't insanely excited at the prospect of taking her somewhere again.

Daphne giggled softly, then squeezed my hand in return. "Yeah, definitely. I'd like that, a lot. But I get to pick the spot next time, alright?" She teased and leaned over into me, her shoulder pressed against mine. "Not that I'm saying your options suck or anything. I had a good time. I just wanna show you some more good spots. … If you're open to it, of course."

"Definitely!" I quickly cleared my throat, and tried to calm down my own excitement. "Uhm— Definitely. Yeah, that'd be… Yeah."

She giggled again, then fell silent as she just relaxed against my shoulder. And I certainly did nothing to stop her, as we both just sat there, enjoying our own candy as we watched the nature around us. Though, I wasn't sure how long we'd sat there before she eventually spoke up again.

"Hey… Harry?" She spoke softly. "What do you want out of life? If you weren't the… Savior of the wizarding world, or if you weren't constantly being thrown into danger… What would you want?"

I didn't respond immediately, as I chewed on another piece of fudge — while I also chewed on the question. Harry had never put any thought into it. And I had never really needed a reason to put any thought into it either. Until recently, I guess.

Time continued to tick by slowly, until I eventually found my voice.

"Something quiet. Peaceful." My voice was a gentle, somber tone as I let the words flow from my mouth. "A warm kitchen, with someone I care about, where we do mundane things at the table together. A quiet porch, where I can watch the sunset, and know that I'm still alive — after everything." I paused as a sigh escaped my lips. "I want to be someone's husband. Harry Potter, husband. Not Harry Potter, boy-soldier." I trailed off, then took another bite of my fudge.

Daphne didn't say anything. Neither did I. We both just sat there in the silence as the wind blew leaves across the cobblestone streets gently. Her hand squeezed mine again, though. And I knew that right then and there, we were both alive, together. A small pocket of peace before the war came for me.

And for that small second— that was enough.

"I hope you get that, someday." She finally spoke up as she turned to look at me, with gentle eyes. "Your peace, I mean. You deserve it the most, I think."

I turned to look at her, my breath catching in my throat as I noticed the emotions welling up behind the sharp blue. "… I hope so, too, Daph."

Chapter Text

"I had a lovely time." Daphne smiled warmly as they stood across from each other, fingers still linked. "Astoria will probably have a conniption once I tell her you let me dress you. So, you'd better watch your hair, Potter."

Harry laughed as his thumb lightly brushed the back of her hand. "Hey, a change of clothes is one thing. Taming this great mane—" his voice caught in his throat as he tried not to laugh "—is another thing, Greengrass."

Daphne returned the laugh with a soft giggle of her own as her eyes flicked upwards to the messy, black hair. "Mhm. We'll see. Especially if you ever intend to go out in public with me again." The smile on her face growing as he flashed her a playful, toothy grin. "Merlin, that damned grin. It's gonna get you in trouble, one of these days."

"Then I guess I'd better be extra careful, huh?" The grin persisted, and she felt a faint flash of heat at the base of her neck.

She'd nearly chastised him for it when— "Daphne! There you are." A familiar voice — Tracey Davis, her best friend — called out. A brief moment of hesitance then she let go of his hand, and immediately a tang of uncomfortable cold shot through her arm.

"Oh, Potter's here too." Tracey paused, just short of the both of them, with Blaise trailing behind her. "I sure hope you treated her well." She shot him a faint glare with barely any weight behind it. If anything had happened, Daphne would've blasted the boy into a billion pieces— she knew that. But the girl was loyal, if nothing else.

He immediately held up his hands as the grin turned into a faint smile. "Easy, Tracey." The name came out a little stilted, as he stuttered over the word. "I promise I was a complete gentleman. Swear on my… Socks."

Daphne had to immediately cover her mouth and turn away as her body shook with silent laughter.

Tracey just hummed and continued to glare at him as the seconds ticked by. Then, eventually, she smiled and gave him an approving nod. "Good boy. At least you've got more sense in you than Malfoy does. I swear, how he even managed Pansy… Well, I know how—

"Tracey." Blaise cut her off smoothly with a sidelong glance.

"Right! Sorry. We just came by to make sure Daphne got back alright." The Slytherin put on an innocent smile, as if it wasn't obvious they'd actually come by to bust his balls a little, and make sure he hadn't done anything too off-putting.

Harry however, just nodded. "I understand. I would've offered to walk her back to the dorms but—" He trailed off, and clicked his tongue. "Yeah."

Blaise gave him a small tilt of his head. "Yeah. Probably for the best, Potter." His eyes flicked over towards Daphne with a squint, as he saw her glaring at him. "… I hope you enjoyed the date. Harry." Though his staring contest continued with Daphne for another moment, till he turned to look at him fully. "And thank you, for stepping in at Florentescue's. I apologize for my comments."

Daphne turned to look at Harry, catching his face immediately fill with confusion, and surprise.

"Oh— uhm. Thank you… Blaise. It's alright, nothing bad happened. And… I apologize for Ron. He means well, it's just…" His eyes flicked down to the Slytherin flag hanging on the wall nearby, then cleared his throat.

Blaise said nothing, seemingly content.

There was a brief moment of silence before Daphne decided 'enough was enough' and took charge, then clapped her hands. "Right! Well, thank you, both of you. That was very… Political." She chuckled and gave Harry a quick hug. "Thanks again, I'll talk to you soon. Alright?"

It took him a moment to return the hug, and his hands were perhaps a little too polite in their positioning. "Yeah, sounds good. I should probably head back to the dorms. Got some stuff to work on." Then he pulled away and looked to the other two. "It was nice seeing you both again. If uhm… If you ever wanted to form a study group together—" he trailed off.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out." Tracey grinned like a puma bearing down on its prey. "Thank you for the offer, and it was nice seeing you as well, Harry." Before she grabbed Daphne's arm and gently pulled her towards the dungeons.

Blaise and Harry stared at each other for another breath, then Blaise nodded his head faintly and turned to follow them.

The moment they were far enough away, the questions started.

"You got him new clothes??"

"Where'd you guys go??"

"Did he take you to Madam Puddifoots? Ugh, the pink…"

"Was he actually a gentleman? Did you guys snogg—" "Tracey."

Blaise's intervention was the only thing that stopped the shorter girl from asking questions until she was blue in the face.

Daphne made a mental note to thank him later, then started answering. "Yes, I got him new clothes — no, it's nothing special. We went to a few different places, though we started at the Three Broomsticks, it was lovely, and we never went to that damn tea shop. Yes, he was very polite thank you, and what I do with my dates is hardly any of your business."

Though she couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her face, that she knew would drive Tracey absolutely insane.

"And before you start asking more questions, at least let a girl sit down somewhere. We can talk in the commons, or back in the dorm if you insist."

The air immediately stilled as Blaise and Tracey looked at each other.

"Actually, that's why we came to get you." Blaise spoke first as he messed with the his left cuff. "Couple of other students are gonna try and ambush you when you get back. Nothing physical, of course. But they think you're starting to turn traitor for hanging out with— Harry." He forced the word out of his throat.

She immediately stopped walking and turned to look at the both of them. "Malfoy?"

Tracey shook her head. "No, but I'm sure he's a part of it, somehow. It's Nott— Septimus, not Theodore— Blackthorn, and Rowle, mainly. The old blood. Malfoy's quiet, from what I can tell, but I'm sure he's spreading shit among our year too. I reckon they just think they can get away with it, because they're older."

Daphne couldn't help but snort. "Course they do. And because I'm a neutral family, they're probably gonna see this whole thing as picking sides. Fucks sake." She rubbed her face roughly as she fought back the headache that was making its way towards her skull.

"Yeah, so you can see why we didn't want you going in there alone." Blaise chimed in. "Personally, I wouldn't even acknowledge them. But, I think we both know that ain't your style. Especially if you're gonna keep hanging out with the dude and his friends."

"It's not like I'm fucking proposing to him!" She growled in annoyance.

He held his hands up peacefully. "I know, Daph. But you know how things work. Hell, you sat with the dude during potions, and now a Hogsmeade date? You had to expect backlash."

She had. That didn't make it any less annoying, unfortunately.

"So," Tracey began walking again as she pulled Daphne by the arm. "If we go in there, you're gonna have to avoid doing anything… Rash."

Daphne scoffed lightly. "Please, I know how to conduct myself better than Draco "I'm telling my father" Malfoy. Or a damn first year."

"I know." Tracey agreed. "But just a year ago, you said you had no intention of fraternizing with anyone. And now you're going on dates to Hogsmeade with Harry freakin' Potter. No offense, Daph, I'm just trying to make sure."

She didn't respond other than a short nod. There was nothing else to say, and she had already started planning on how she was going to deal with the assholes waiting for her.

Thankfully, she had plenty of time with the walk down to the dungeons. And by the time they'd arrived, with the portrait swinging open to reveal their common room, she had remarkably calmed down.

"There she is. The prodigal Ice Queen finally graces us with her presence." A sharp voice cut through the chatter as a cruel-looking, somewhat stocky boy stood — followed by two others — and looked towards Daphne and friends. "Have fun with your little boy toy today?"

Daphne fixed him with a cold gaze, though she kept her tone neutral. "What I do on my off days is hardly any of your business, Nott. Unless you'd like to try asking me out again? I could certainly turn you down a fifth time, if you're so persistent."

"Don't play dumb, Greengrass." One of the other boys — Rowle: lanky, tall, ugly — spoke, cutting off Nott before he could bite back. "You're spending time with the Golden Boy. Harry fucking Potter."

The room went quiet, and the pressure in the air grew heavy as all eyes turned towards her.

"It's bad enough that your family plays the fucking neutral card, but I can at least respect people who know their place and keep to themselves. But you," he jabbed his finger towards her, "are breaking that neutrality. Crossing house lines, and dating that prick?"

"We're not dating." Daphne replied coolly. "And if we were, it wouldn't make me any less neutral. Nor would it make it any more of your business. Though… Who exactly are we supposed to be neutral to, again?" She took a step forward, with a slight tilt of her head. "Remind me, cause apparently I didn't get the memo… There's sides that I can pick?"

Rowle's glared at her in return. Voldemort versus Dumbledore was something of an open secret among Slytherin, and he knew that. Of course, no one believed Lucius' bullshit story about being Imperiused. Or half of the other families who followed his claims. But as long as no one explicitly said "I want to kill Mudbloods" or showed any sort of support for Voldemort, they would be left alone.

And the last thing anyone wanted was a night with Snape, being reminded to learn how to keep their tongue in their mouths when it came to something like that.

Daphne continued to wait for a response for a few seconds — one she knew wouldn't come — as she clicked her tongue. "Right. Well, if we're talking about house lines and all that… Let's not pretend like half of you aren't at least on speaking terms with the Eagles or Badgers. But of course, Gryffindor is where we draw the line."

"You know it's more complicated than that." The third boy — Blackthorn — moved forward with a neutral gaze. "And you shouldn't pretend like it isn't. The Badgers get along with everyone, and the Eagles are just intellectual rivals. However, the fucking Lions can't keep their head out of their arse for five seconds. How many times has Potter nearly gotten himself killed so far, by rushing into danger?"

None of them knew the exact details of his misadventures, but there was one consensus among the student body: Harry had a bad habit of charging in first, asking questions never. Case-in-point: When he swallowed a Snitch.

As much as she hated it, Daphne had to admit he had a point. Not a great one, but a point nonetheless.

"And how often do you bully them? Actively go out of your way to treat them like shit?" It was Tracey this time, that chose to speak.

"And how often did they bully us?" Blackthorn turned to look at her. "Or are you forgetting the Twins and their hijinks? Hell, what about Pewter, or Hunt, or even Kendall? How many stories have we heard about Gryffindor's cornering 1st years and hexing the shit out of them? Perhaps we're only getting even."

Blaise leaned against the nearby wall as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." His gaze traveled slowly across the room. "It's never about getting even, it'll just keep going. Keep escalating."

"Maybe. But as long as they target us, we have to target back. Otherwise we'd be sitting ducks, waiting to get picked off. And I don't see McGonagall or Snape doing anything to stop it from continuing, either."

Daphne's gaze flicked between the three of them as she chewed the words, processing them. "And how often has Harry come after any of you directly? And I mean actually directly. Not because you tried fucking with them first." As she looked pointedly at Malfoy, who said nothing and kept reading his book.

The room was silent.

She waited, and waited, and waited.

"So, nothing, got it." She turned her gaze back to the three students. "I'm not here to debate the morality of picking on other students, or defending yourselves. Far as I'm concerned, if someone comes at you with a wand, don't end up a stain on the fucking floor. But don't create a stain either. But—"

"That doesn't—" Nott tried to speak up but was cut off by Daphne's sharp gaze, as she stepped forward and the three of them stepped back slightly.

"But. That doesn't mean I'll sit here and take your shit about who I do and don't date, either. Unless Harry specifically targets you just for shits and giggles, then I don't give a damn. And I think we're all forgetting who gave us all chocolate on the train after the Dementors."

Several students — from different years — shivered at the memory of the soul-sucking revenants from hell.

"Now," Daphne continued. "If there's nothing else to discuss, then I'd like to talk with my friends about my trip. And if anyone else has a complaint about my choice of friends, they're more than welcome to ask Snape for an official spar. I'd be happy to show you just how lowly I think of your opinions."

Nott quickly shuffled backwards and took a seat in a chair with a book in his lap. His face void of all color, and eyes full of a fearful memory.

The seconds ticked by.

"No one? Fantastic." Daphne moved towards a quiet corner and gestured for her friends to follow.

'… I hope Harry's having a better time than me at least.' She thought to herself with a slight grimace, as the adrenaline began to dump from her body — as she had expected more of an actual fight.

The trek back up to the common room had been quiet. I hadn't seen Ron, or Hermione, down at Hogsmeade earlier. Though I hadn't exactly been looking either.

So, I was only partially surprised when the portrait swung up and I was nearly bowled over by the two of them as I entered.

"There he is!" Ron clapped me on the back hard with a large grin on his face. "Told you he'd be fine, Hermione." — "I wasn't worried, Ron." — Then he noticed my outfit and his eyebrows nearly receeded into his hair. "Woah! Where'd you get the new clothes, Harry?"

"Oh." I looked down at my jacket and shrugged. "Just took a detour to pick up some new clothes while we were out. Daphne suggested it, and I figured "why the hell not" so here we are."

"Hold on," Seamus piped up from a corner of the room — a chess set between him and Dean, who sat opposite — as he turned to look at us. "Did I hear Harry Potter went on a date? Like with a girl? A real girl?" Before he laughed. "Shit, mate! I thought you might've been gay! Dean, you owe me!"

"Piss off." He grumbled and reached into his pocket. "And for the record, Harry, I figured you wouldn't date until your sixth year. No offense."

I just waved my hand and snorted. "None taken, mate."

"Wait, who'd you go with, anyways?" Seamus took the Knuts from Dean as he watched us. "You finally pick up that uh… Fuck's her name… Romilda? Or maybe you went for Ginny, eh? She's quite a good one."

Ron's face turned beet read. "Piss off! He knows better than to go out with my sister!"

“Just wanted to thank my savior~ You got a problem with that, Potter?~” Ginny grinned up at me as her hand—

Nope. Nope. I did not want to be thinking about that particular incident right now.

"For the record, he went with Daphne Greengrass." Ron blurted out in his anger.

The room became so silent, I swore they could hear my heart starting to beat against my chest roughly. If there was one thing that probably should've have been said in the Gryffindor Commons, it was that I went on a date with a Slytherin.

Seamus and Dean— hell practically everyone in the goddamn room looked at us with varying emotions on their face.

"… He's not serious, right?" Seamus asked me directly.

No. Sirius is my Godfather.

"… Harry." He slowly stood from his seat so he could face me fully. "Tell me you did not go on a date with the Ice Queen of Slytherin." But the longer I stayed silent, the more he started to glare at me. "Potter."

"Hey, watch your tone, Finnigan." Ron growled and moved towards him — though Hermione stopped him quickly enough. "So what if he did? Harry's allowed to date whoever the hell he wants."

I tried really hard not to think about how he reacted when he first found out. Never look a gift horse in the ass.

"Mouth. Sovereign." Daedalus sighed. "It's never look a gift horse in the mouth."

Actually, I think ass works better in this context.

"Because she's a fucking Slytherin, you dunce! You're seriously okay with this?? How many times have Draco and his little fat fucks that follow him around bullied you! Bullied all of us! Hell, fucking Neville is constantly getting shit on by Snape!"

"Please don't bring me into this." Neville muttered quietly, hands clenched as he stared at the floor. Though I don't think anyone heard him, besides me.

"If you can't see this as a giant fucking betrayal to our house, then you're either retarded, or you're too tongue deep in his bollocks to know left from right!"

It was my turn to grab Ron and hold him back — but it was like holding back a goddamn bull. Even Fred and George quickly rushed over to help us stop him from stomping Seamus' throat in.

"Get off me!" He snarled and tried to pull away from us, hellbent on beating the other student to death, but we never relented.

Hermione quickly stepped in between them. "Seamus, you shouldn't be using that kind of foul language." She glared at him, even as she kept her body as a physical barricade between the two. "And it's not like Daphne's ever done anything bad to you. Harry's an adult, he's allowed to date whomever he likes."

"Fuck off, Granger." He returned her glare in kind. "The last thing I wanna hear is a goddamn brow beating from Harry's side chick."

I couldn't exactly tell what was happening anymore, other than the fact Neville had quickly stood up — and was now being held back by Ginny, while Hermione still stood there like a statue.

Dean quickly pulled Seamus back and got between him and the rest of us as he held up his hands peacefully. "Let's all calm down for a sec. Alright? Some stuff has been said… And obviously temperature's have risen a little too much. Seamus doesn't mean any of it, he's just… Well. You know how he gets. And this ain't exactly the easiest thing to spring on us."

We'd finally gotten Ron calmed down enough that Fred and George were able to drag him to a different area of the room, while I pushed Hermione behind me carefully. I'd seen her mean hook in the movies before, and the last thing we needed was that happening now.

"I didn't exactly think it'd be this big of a problem. Like Hermione said, Daphne hasn't done anything to any of you guys." I quickly looked back to Hermione — then gestured for Ginny to take over, because I wasn't sure if she was going to explode or start crying — as I turned back to Dean and Seamus. "And seriously, we're all adults here. We shouldn't really be having these petty rivalries."

"Petty?" Another student spoke up from the side — a fourth year named Dugan. "Potter, I appreciate you, but let's be real here. Like the guy… Finnigan, or whatever, said. Neville over there's been bullied plenty of times by Snape. A frickin' teacher. And he shows ample amount of favoritism to the Slytherins every five seconds."

"And McGonagall doesn't?" I turned to look at him. "Trust me, I get your point. Snape's an asshole—"

"Arsehole." Daedalus corrected.

… "—but McGonagall literally bought me a broom in my first year after watching me fly. And how many times has Dumbledore awarded us an insane amount of points at the last minute? None of it excuses Neville's mistreatment, and I'm not trying to act like it does. I just— have you considered that we don't exactly help the situation?"

Dugan clicked his tongue and relaxed in his seat as he mulled it over, while he kept his eyes on me. "Fair point, Potter. But we can't control Dumbledore, nor his points. But they could control Snape's abuse. And it's not like we can exactly let ourselves get trampled by Slytherin. How many times has that brute, Flint, beat the shit out of you guys in Quidditch?"

"A lot." Fred quickly joined my side. "But we give our fair share back to him, and his little cronies." A violent grin spread across his face.

"But that's my point—" I huffed and turned to look at Fred. "You guys bully the shit out of them with your prank stuff all the time. And yeah, it's funny as hell a lot of the time, but do you seriously not expect reprisal?"

"No, we do." Fred shrugged. "Part of doing business. We accepted that a while ago, when we started pranking Filch."

I stared at him blankly for a moment. "And what if their reprisal falls on the rest of us instead of you?"

"Then we hit them back harder— Okay I get your point." He deflated a little. "But like Dugan over there said. We can't just let them hit us, either. I'm not sure if you're trying to like… Broker peace here or something Harry, but you'd have a better time convincing Snape to wear a bridal dress and kiss Dumbledore on the lips. This house rivalry shit goes back further than even Dumbledore's time here."

Dean moved towards us — after having put Seamus into what looked like timeout — though he kept his gaze on the Irishman more than us. "Yeah. This rivalry is ancient, Harry. I'll be the first to admit that we ain't exactly the nicest tools in the shed, but they aren't exactly extending friendship bracelets either."

"And yeah," he continued, as he turned to face us again. "Seamus was out of line with his comments, I'm sorry. But for all intents and purposes, you basically just told us you were going on dates with… A supervillain or something. How's Oliver gonna react when he finds out his star player is fraternizing with "the enemy" as he puts it?"

I sighed and reached up to rub my face harshly. "Gods. Yeah. I'm sorry for dropping it on y'all so suddenly, but it shouldn't matter anyways. It's Daphne Greengrass, not Pansy Parkinson, or… Draco Malfoy. Ugh." I shivered. "She's a great gal when you get to know her. And if it really bothers you guys that much," I gave a sideways glance to Seamus who was still in the corner, "I just won't bring her around here. Hell, it ain't like the Slytherin Commons are the most peaceful place for me either."

"Eh, you can bring her 'round if you want. Especially if she means something to ya." Fred shrugged once more. "Just wouldn't expect a lot of the little lions in here to be the most… accommodating about it." It was his turn to look at Seamus, and then back at his brother, then Hermione. "… Listen, mate. How about you and them go take a walk for a bit. Clear your heads. Alright?"

I stared into Fred's eyes, almost considering arguing against it, or insisting that we stay in the room. That Seamus could shove it up his asshole and get over it.

But I didn't. I knew he was right. Nothing would get better tonight, if we stayed. Only worse.

"Yeah, alright. Just try not to get into too much trouble while we're gone. Alright?" I cracked a grin at him, and got one in return.

"No promises, squirt."

"Piss off." I snorted. "I'm not even that tiny." As I turned back to grab Hermione and Ron so we could leave. "But we both know you won't call Ginny that to her face."

Fred laughed. "Fuck no! She'd hex us to hell and back."

"Good!" Ginny called out. "I taught you well!"

I laughed as well, even as I grabbed Hermione and Ron to guide them back towards the portrait. "Come on guys. Let's go down to the kitchen or something. Grab a bite to eat."

Maybe I'd finally have the free time to talk to them about Sirius and what Dobby had told me.

Chapter Text

(Hogwarts Kitchen, 1993 — Harry Potter)

"Hermione, just— I promise we'll come back sometime and talk to them, maybe even bring some muffins or something. I promise." I kept my gaze locked onto the pissed off witch. "Just bear with me for a bit. Please, I need to talk with you guys about Padfoot."

She kept her glare aimed at me, arms crossed over her chest as the silence persisted. Until she eventually relented and huffed as she took a seat nearby. The kitchen elves continued to work around us to clean up and prepare some snacks.

"… Okay." She muttered after a moment. "Fine. I'm sure Dumbledore treats them well at least. Even if I don't particularly like the idea…" Her voice trailed off as she watched the elves. "… Alright. Padfoot. What about him? Did you get any more news?"

I pulled a nearby chair closer, as its legs slid roughly across the ground. "Yeah. It's… Not good. But I think we expected that anyways. He's…" A soft groan rolled through my throat as I leaned back as the weight of the situation fully washed over me. "Gods. He’s fucked. I can’t even put it properly—he’s just… fucked. We’ll start with malnutrition."

The elves zipped over and quickly placed plates of food in front of us, which I could barely stand to look at, let alone eat. But I grabbed a fork and shoveled a bite into my mouth forcefully. It'd only be worse later if I didn't.

"Thanks." The elves nodded and then popped away to return to their cleaning. I turned back to the others as I watched them struggle with the same desire to avoid eating right now. "… So, seventeen years in Azkaban. They probably only feed the prisoners the bare minimum to keep them alive. And I've no doubt that some of the Aurors take that literally. The bare minimum turns into the barest minimum, or even none at all — which everyone turns a blind eye to."

(Azkaban, The North Sea, 1990s — Auror Beauregard)

"Meal time." The witch spoke with a hint of disgust in her tone as she tossed the meager plate of food into the cell. Though she lingered by the bars just long enough to watch as the prisoner — A. Rookwood — scrambled across the cracked stone to stuff food into its mouth like a rabid animal that hadn't feasted in months. A lion caged up and starved as part of a sick game for the arena. Some food splattered across the ground and hit her boot.

A spark of light and a pained, raspy yelp as the prisoner was flung backwards into the nearby wall.

She stored her wand beneath her coat coldly and turned to move further down the halls — a gentle dove made of silvery light following after.

"Watch your manners."

The next cell came and the food was just as unceremoniously tossed towards its feet. Some food falling off and onto the damp stone. Not that it mattered. No food was left to waste. Except for this one. It just sat there in the corner and stared. It never moved. It never ate. Bones and tendons bulged through rotting skin. Soon it would have to be dumped out back. Left to them.

"Crouch." She growled in annoyance as she watched it. The icy air blew past and bit down into her skin, even through the enchanted cloak she wore. But it did nothing. It didn't even shiver. It was like a statue— or a piece of meat just waiting to be tossed to the wolves that prowled the halls. "Whatever. Don't cry like a bitch when the Dementors have their way with you.

She moved on again and left it to rot in its cell. There'd be a report later of course, a request for soul removal. No point keeping a prisoner around that was just waiting to starve itself to death. Hell, maybe she could just turn around and save the Ministry the time and effort. It'd be a lot quicker. A lot less painful.

Maybe if they paid her more.

Boots pounded heavy against the wet stone with every step. Another cell, another clattering of a tray. Another desperate look from the thing inside, and another vile glare from the Auror in response. Occasionally, another spark of light and a pained whimper. Someday they will learn their place. They would learn not to look at her. They would learn to fear her. Perhaps even more than they feared the Dementors.

The faint sound of chains dragged across the floor and the rasping, vile breath.

She shivered as the dove moved closer to guard her against the supernatural chill that dug its way into her spine and gripped tight. It never got easier. It likely never would.

Maybe she'd finally put that transfer request in. But in the meantime…

"Crucio." Her wand jabbed through the bars of the cell and the woman within writhed in pain — even as it cackled and howled in shattered laughter. But that only drove the Auror more angry as the wand jabbed more violently on the second round. "Crucio."

The witch continued to let loose its raging insanity even as the pain splintered their nerves and fractured their mind further. "HE'LL COME BACK!" It screamed, even as its vocal cords frayed and split open. "HE'LL COME BACK! YOU'LL SEE! OUR LORD WILL HAVE HIS THRONE!! HAHAHAH!" The laughter never stopped — even though the pain eventually did.

The auror stared down at her — B. Lestrange — as the psychotic beast clawed at the ground with disgusting nails and stared up at her with a feral grin with blood seeping down her jaw after she'd bit her own tongue.

Yeah. She'd put in the transfer request after she finished her rounds. After she finished the order to give Junior the kiss.

Wish they'd just blow the whole fucking castle. Get rid of these nasty little parasites.

With one last glance at the demonic-looking creature, she pushed further down the hall with renewed purpose to finish her rounds as quickly as possible.

(Hogwarts Kitchen, 1993 — Harry Potter)

"Surely they can't treat them that badly… Right?" Hermione's eyes nearly welled with tears. "I mean… Certainly there's got to be some bad people in Azkaban right— you know who's people— but Azkaban is more than just… Hagrid went there! Remember? That's where everyone goes for long-term crimes! They can't just—" Her voice caught in her throat as Ron's arm wrapped around her and pulled her in for a hug.

My mind flitted back to the moment Hagrid had been sentenced to Azkaban. Though we hadn't witnessed it with our own eyes — he hadn't really been the same afterwards. Even just a few months in there, Hagrid had started twitching at loud sounds. Bundling up heavier. Talking less.

"Wait! Refeeding syndrome!"

I looked over at Hermione with a slight tilt of my head. "Re-… what now?"

"Refeeding syndrome." She quickly pushed away from Ron and up to her feet. "One of my relatives actually had it. When someone's malnourished, their body has to adjust to the lack of calories. If someone's malnourished for long enough then they start eating too much too quickly, they can start getting a lot worse. It could even kill him!"

Ron stood as well and tried his best to stop Hermione from pacing around the room frantically. "Alright, alright. So let's say he's got this… Refeeding syndrome?" He looked at me for clarification — to which I nodded — and then turned back to her. "Refeeding syndrome. How do we actually help him? The poor bastard is starving to death already."

Hermione bit her bottom lip nervously as she tried to pace, though she eventually decided to sit back down as her leg bounced rapidly. "… I don't know. We don't exactly have any doctors here, and we can't just ask Madam Pompfrey for help… Potions? Maybe? But I don't see how we'd actually get Padfoot to ingest them."

An idea popped into my head. "What if we put it in food? If we can get access to the food he's eating, then we don't need to try and convince him that the potions won't hurt him. He'll probably scarf down anything at this point, I imagine."

"Mmm…" Hermione hummed as she mulled it over. "… I guess that could work… But we'd need to know what kind of potions to give him. I can check the library for some textbooks but… We really would need to find an actual healer."

"And I'm sure Snape won't help us with the potions either." Ron huffed and sat back down into his own chair. "Fucking greasy asshole."

I glanced at Hermione, half-expecting her to call him out on the insult, but she was a little too focused in her own world of worry. Far be it from me to ask her to defend Snape of all people, so I just let it sit.

"Okay, so." I clapped my hands together. "Let's just. Assume we can actually figure it out. We get the potions made, we put it in the food. We need to actually get him the damn food in the first place. And Padfoot's not gonna accept a random House Elf trying to feed him. Especially someone like Dobby. Cause, no offense to him, but he's probably gonna say the wrong thing."

"Well, he's starving. Remember?" Ron looked between the two of us like the answer was obvious. "He'll eat anything he finds. So we just have to make sure he finds it. If he won't take it from our hands, then surely he'll take it from a trash can. Or a uh— I don't know. A random ass table when no one's looking. Just put something in his path, let him stumble across it, he'll swallow the whole damn thing whole and boom! Problem solved."

… Yeah, it actually wasn't the worst idea in the world. I didn't quite like the idea of feeding my Godfather fucking trash food, literally, but I didn't see any other option.

"We could just kidnap the fucker." I stared at both of them blankly. "And then we bribe a healer to keep their trap shut."

Both Hermione and Ron slowly looked over at me like I was genuinely insane. I didn't blame them. So, I cleared my throat and nodded. "Right. Yeah, bad idea. Just figured I'd throw it out there." But the silence continued as they stared at me some more. "… So, uh. Yeah. We go with Ron's idea."

(Scotland, 1993 — Dobby)

Mister Padfoot was a lot sharper than Dobby thought he gave himself credit for. He'd been nearly spotted a few times now just from scent alone. Dobby considered himself lucky — albeit hesitantly — that Mister Padfoot's mind was so broken.

Squelch. Crunch. Growl.

Dobby watched as Padfoot ate from a trash can. Teeth and claws ripped through paper and plastic as he tried to get at anything even remotely edible. Dobby had seen him steal plenty of left out food before, but sometimes the Mister would get… Dobby hated to speak badly about Master Harry's friend.

Riiiip. Crunch crunch crunch. Plp plp plp.

But as Dobby watched Mister Padfoot lick at his chops after downing a grease soaked, day old sandwich…

"Dobby. I don't want you hurting yourself anymore. Okay? You don't need to punish yourself."

The words of Master Harry filled his mind once more as he nearly flung himself into the nearest stone wall. He didn't want to disappoint Master Harry. Dobby was a good Elf, yes indeed. He was very good. He would not punish himself, because the Master said so. The Master that save his life.

That didn't make it any easier for Dobby to watch as Mister Padfoot dug into his second trash can in the last two minutes. But Dobby knew that Master Harry would figure out a way to help. After all, the Master helped Dobby! He'll help everyone. Mister Padfoot is in safe hands, surely.

Dobby continued to watch Padfoot as he ate, then eventually trudged along the dark streets in search of something to drink. He followed along quietly — and invisible — just as Dobby had promised he would. But he had to be careful enough to stay downwind. That… Had been an awkward moment for Dobby.

As Padfoot passed beneath a streetlight, Dobby couldn't help but notice that he didn't look much better than before. His gaunt form was little more than bones pressed through flab skin that barely had any body left to cling to. He wasn't sure how much longer Mister Padfoot had before it became too late to save him— but Master Harry would save him. Surely.

Master Harry saved everyone.

He saved himself. He saved the school. He saved that girl in the chamber. Harry would save Mister Padfoot too. Dobby was sure of it.

He would save him.

Dobby had to fight the urge to slam his face into the cobblestone as a brief moment of hesitation filled his mind. His eyes focused on Mister Padfoot as he kept every ounce of uncertainty locked behind wrought iron gates in the deepest recess of his minds.

(Scotland, 1993 — Sirius Black)

This place was like paradise! There was food whenever he wanted, water that he could drink till his bully grew painfully fat, and of course the sights! The sounds! The smells! It was all perfect.

Atleast, Padfoot thought so. His tail wagged rapidly whenever he scarfed down a half-eatened sandwich, or muffins that the bakery had thrown out because they hadn't been sold on the same day they were made.

Anything was better than the cold, dark room they had chained him up in. Padfoot would sooner chew off his own legs before allowing himself to be stuck in that hell again. But it would all be okay soon. They were going to see him. They just had to keep traveling— maybe another couple of days, and James would be able to see his son again.

"That's right, pup." James laughed as they walked along the empty, dark streets together. Padfoot happily trotted next to the tall, young looking man. "God… Do you think he's playing Quidditch? I really hope he plays Quidditch."

Of course he was. Padfoot had been the one to suggest it in the first place. To suggest they buy him a small broom, so he could learn to fly early. Memories of a small child floating across the carpet passed through his mind, along with a bout of playful giggles as a large dog's snout gently nudged the broom in different directions.

"I bet he's great, James. I bet he's the best player on the team— he'll have to be. Or he'll get an earful!"

The duo's laughter roared through the streets like thunder until Lily's voice called out, "hey! Quiet down you two. We don't wanna wake the whole neighborhood." She tried to glare at the both of them, but it didn't last long in the face of Padfoot's puppy-like gaze. "… Don't you give me that, Sirius. It's not my fault that you two can't control your volume."

James flashed a toothy grin and dragged his wife into a side hug. "C'mon, love. You know we weren't trying to bug anyone. We're sorry." He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek, while Lily tried to fight the smile off of her face. "C'mon…" He started kissing her again and again until she nearly pushed him away.

"Alright!" She laughed as well. "Alright, calm down, ya horn dog— Sirius!" She gasped as the actual dog in question jumped her, and tried to lick her face. "You little— bastard!" With every lick came another giggle, even as she tried to get the overactive dog away from her face. "I swear! Padfoot, you get down or I'll spray you!"

The threat of Lily's spray bottle got the job done and caused Padfoot to quickly hop back down onto his feet to walk alongside them once more. "Sorry, Fawn." Padfoot chuckled and nudged her leg gently. "I thought you were a dog gal! I mean, your friends with Moony and I after all."

Lily just rolled her eyes, which only gave Padfoot more of a reason to laugh and flash her a fang-filled grin. "I swear, you both are gonna be the death of me."

"Never." Padfoot snarled suddenly as his gaze hardened. "I'd never let anything happen to you. All three of you… I promise." More memories of a child's giggle drew his attention back to the road and the trio grew quiet once more.

They'd be there soon. Hogwarts was getting close — Hogsmeade even closer. If he could just see the outskirts of Hogsmeade, then he'd be closer than ever to finding Harry again. Merlin, it's been so long… He must be so big by now!

Sirius turned his gaze towards James again and admired his features. The wild, untamed hair that stuck up towards the back. His thin frame, and even those hazel eyes that had drawn his attention, that first day on the train. For a moment… He could almost see Harry. The slight differences that the little pup would surely have.

Like his mother's eyes. Those stunning emeralds that he was certain could stun even Moony into submission with just a glare.

Harry would be a handsome man, just like James— he was sure of that. The boy would be well loved. Well cared for. The star player of the quidditch team, and a whole host of women on his arms— or men. Sirius wasn't about to discriminate with his Godson. Not when he loved the boy just as much as he'd loved Regulus—

Regulus.

Padfoot whimpered softly, even as a gentle hand reached down to scratch behind his ear.

"It's alright, Pad." James' voice filled the air again, strong fingers carefully ran manicured nails through his fur. A light shiver raked down his spine beneath the nails and the whimper soon turned into a playful growl. "You'll be okay. Just another day, maybe two. You're almost there."

He was right. Prongs was always right. He just needed to keep moving a little longer. He'd see Harry, and he'd love that boy like he deserved from family. They'd burn Grimmauld Place to the ground, find a new spot for a home, and adopt a dog together. Or maybe he'd just… be Padfoot for a while. Just for a little while longer.

"Thanks, James."

There was no response. Padfoot turned to look for him, but found nothing. Just empty air and quiet shops. He turned to look at Lily, but there was nothing there either.

Padfoot's head tilted to the side as he stopped and looked around. "… I should keep going." He turned back and started to walk again. "I need to find Harry. … I swear, that boy is probably a troublemaker. Just like us. I can't wait to see him. I bet he's great at Quidditch, just like his pops."

The dog didn't stop — not until the daylight had started to break through the distant sky. Then he found a calm, quiet place to lay down. Somewhere he could rest until it got dark again. Somewhere he'd be safe for another night.

"Goodnight, Harry…" His eyes drooped, even as he felt a small child grab his fur and cuddle up next to him. "… I'll… See you soon…" Then he drifted off to sleep, unaware of the Elf that watched over him until the day broke again— until he could use the cover of night to keep moving.

(Hogwarts Kitchen, 1993 — Harry Potter)

"We actually haven't even considered the worst part!" Hermione continued to pace around the kitchen, as she practically rambled. "He's been in prison for nearly two decades, I can only imagine how messed up he is emotionally! Let alone psychologically!"

Both Ron and I continued to eat as Hermione spewed words from her mouth like a printer.

"And you said he's an animagus too! What did Dobby say??"

"Uhm." I swallowed quickly and tried to ignore the slight burn in my throat. "He— he said, “he might've spent too long in his other skin" so… Padfoot."

"Exactly." She pointed at me and continued to stalk around the kitchen. "Imagine being in one of the worst places in the world, surrounded by Dementors for years and the only escape you have is changing your form into a dog! We don't even know how often he would've been shifting but it's reasonable to assume at least forty percent."

"Fourty percent as a dog?" Ron looked up from his plate, but Hermione just shook her head.

"No. Forty percent as a human. Probably worse than that, cause he'd only really need to be in human form whenever people come looking or bring food. I mean there's—" she ran a hand through her frizzy hair "— there's been studies of course! The effects of animagus transformation on the human psyche but none of it's conclusive! He could be totally… animalistic, when we find him."

I pushed the plate away gently then made my way over to try and stop Hermione from pacing — again. Seriously, this woman needed a different outlet for all the energy she was releasing right now. "Dobby said he's seen Sirius in human form. So, I don't think it's that dire, 'mione."

"But it's probably not good either."

I gave Ron a small nod. "It's probably not good either, yeah. Even just the prolonged exposure to the Dementors I'm sure is fucking with him."

"I did my waiting!" Sirius nearly howled in a painful, harrowed tone. "Twelve years of it! In Azkaban!" His eyes mad and full of a bloody rage, spit dripping from his jaw.

The memories of Sirius Black's portrayal flooded back into my head.

"Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within." Remus chuckled as he gestures to Sirius' gaunt form, dressed in tattered rags that clung tighter to his body than the skin on his bones.

Sirius grinned and embraced his friend. "Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?"

He had somehow looked more normal as a gigantic, bear-like dog than he ever did as a man, in the Shrieking Shack. Twelve years had turned him into that. I could hardly imagine what an extra five would do.

SNAP!

One of the table legs splintered and sent shards of wood clattering across the ground as Ron yelped. "Bloody hell!" He shot to his feet quickly and scrambled to get away from the table, lest any more fragmentation come for him. "What the fuck was that!"

… "Sorry." I muttered softly. "Just… Thinking about Sirius like this is…" I trailed off and bit my own tongue to force the anger back down my throat. I could barely feel the sensation of Hermione's fingers intertwined with my own as my blood boiled, and my heart burned like the sun. Hell, I barely noticed when an Elf appeared, fixed the table, and then disappeared again as my eyes stared blankly into the distance.

Hermione kept her hand in mine as she talked slowly. "Okay… So, we all agree that Sirius is going to need a lot of help. Right? I mean, we haven't even discussed how we're going to handle the Aurors at Hogsmeade, or the Dementors or…" She cleared her throat and continued. "Okay. First off. We need to get someone we can trust for him. Healer, Medi-Witch, hell I don't care if you need to buy a whole wing in St. Mungos just to keep them quiet. We're not trained for this, damnit. We need to get a professional."

She was right. I'd already had someone in mind of course but I couldn't be sure how open to the idea she was going to be. Not that she wouldn't be right for being skeptical. Hey, I have escaped Mass Murderer and Azkaban Convict Sirius Black here, and we need you to heal him. Trust me, he's totally innocent. Yeah. That'd go over well, you fucking idiot.

"You never know, until you try, Sovereign." A hand placed itself on my shoulder then squeezed gently. "Though, I would recommend a more… professional approach than that. It'll be an uphill battle either way. But it will be good for you to learn. Wars are not won with just blood and weapons."

I squeezed Hermione's hand as I listened to Daedalus— and I had to admit, he made a good point. I lost nothing by trying, as long as I was careful. I didn't have to reveal Sirius right away, not until I was certain. And I certainly needed to learn how to be diplomatic with people, especially if I was going to spend any amount of time with Amelia Bones.

Ron and Hermione had continued the conversation in my — vocal — absence, as my attention returned to them.

"I mean what are the odds we just take him out of the country?"

"That'd be a preferable option, especially since this place holds a lot of bad memories for him." Hermione never left my side, even as she and Ron talked. "But we still need to actually get him exonerated too. Which, sure, Harry can probably manage. But that's not going to be quick, nor easy. It'd be best if we had someone in the interim."

"Hm…" Ron's eyebrows furrowed. "I wonder if Dad or Mum know anyone… That'd be a bitch of a thing to ask them though… And we need to be careful of Dumb—"

"Andromeda Tonks." I cut him off suddenly.

Hermione looked at me, confused. "Who?"

"Cousin of Sirius. She uh… Got blasted out of the family lineage when she married a muggle— I know, Hermione, please let me finish — which means she's not likely to hate his guts. But it'll be hard to convince her of his innocence, I just figure we have a better shot with her than Ron's parents." I paused and looked at him. "No offense, mate."

"None taken. I was just thinking of how Mum would react if she knew we were doing this."

"It's probably our best bet, Hermione." I turned back to the witch as I squeezed her hand again. "Short of kidnapping him and locking him away until I can get him exonerated. Hell, I even have an excuse to meet her, considering I'm the new Lord Black. And I'm hoping she won't be too suspicious of me, considering… Y'know. Who I am."

"You mean suspicious of the fact that Harry Potter became the lord of a house full of pureblood bigots and psychopaths?"

I nodded. "Yes."

She stared at me for a moment, then let go of my hand and rubbed her eyes. "Holy— Okay. Yeah, you're right. It's our best idea so far. Even if I hate it."

"Hey, guys." Ron spoke up, "can we uh… We should probably start to head back. It's late, and we don't wanna get caught out of bed before curfew."

Hermione and I turned to look at him.

"Shit, yeah. We probably should." I quickly made my way towards the door. "And uhm— sorry about the table." I spoke vaguely to the air before a small plate of pastries appeared on top of it. "… I'll take that as an ‘apology accepted.’ We'll bring the plate back in the morning, promise."

Ron grabbed it quickly and followed me. "I swear mate, you're like the magic whisperer or something. Why does everyone seem to like you?"

The faces of Daphne, Ginny, Narcissa, Hestia, and even Amelia Bones flittered through my mind.

"Your guess is as good as mine, dude. C'mon."

Honestly, I hadn't realized how late it had really gotten until we left the kitchens, and the dark halls were practically empty. A few students still lingered — some in not-so-private spots — but they were mostly empty. Though I couldn't help but feel a strange twinge somewhere in my chest as I watched one particular couple lingering together, though I quickly turned away as it started to get a little more heated.

"Honestly, you think people would have more shame." Hermione huffed as she trailed along beside me, arms crossed over her chest and a light blush on her face. "I'm pretty sure one of them is a prefect!"

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Hermione. It's not like they're snogging in the middle of the common room—"

"No, that's just Lavender and whatever guy she ends up bringing back." Hermione interrupted. "Like that Smith guy last week."

Zacharias Smith?? I really needed to pay attention to the common room debacles more often if that was the case.

"Okay, you have a point there at least. Zacharias is a total dickhead. But, you probably wouldn't be so worried about it if you had someone to snog, yourself."

The air suddenly felt a lot colder, and I quickly pushed out the latest thought in my head to change the conversation. "Oh! Did you guys end up going to Hogsmeade? I don't think I saw you guys down there when I was uh— … with Daphne, y'know."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Ron was teaching Neville wizard chess, and I decided to stay back for the weekend. You both were busy, and I didn't feel like walking all the way down there just for kicks. Why do you ask?"

"Uhm— maybe we should all go next time? Assuming nothing else pops up. It'd be nice to just get away from it all, and spend some time together. Without anything getting in the way, like giant snakes, or psychotic teachers."

Ron laughed first while Hermione just looked distraught at the reminder of the past two years, and the hardships that had accompanied them. Though she too, eventually, started to laugh — and I joined them. All the stress washed through us in bouts of laughter, to the point that we didn't even notice the presence walking towards us until they spoke up.

"You three seem to be having the time of your lives. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

I turned first, and almost immediately pulled both of my friends behind me — as my brain processed the friendly, warm face of Remus Lupin staring at us with a raised eyebrow.

"Hello, professor." I cleared my throat and tried to act normal, like I hadn't just acted on pure instinct. "Sorry, we didn't see you there. Is there something you need?"

A smile slowly spread across his face and there was a look on his face that I'm sure my father must've seen a dozen times. "Mm. I was actually hoping we could speak for a short moment, Mister Potter." A slight tilt in his voice as if he had to force the words through his throat. "It wouldn't take long, I just wanted to talk about your patronus on the train."

"Uhm— Yeah, sure. You guys mind heading back on your own?"

Ron took a step forward, almost placing himself between Remus and I. "You sure mate? We don't mind waiting for you."

Remus' smile widened. "I appreciate the protectiveness, Mister Weasley. And I have no qualms about either of you waiting, or even tagging along. Though, as I told H— Mister Potter— it won't be very long. But, of course, it's up to you."

"If you're alright with it, Professor, then I certainly don't mind if they come along."

"Then I guess we're all in agreement." His hands clapped together gently before he gestured further down the hall. "My office isn't far from here. And I can escort you three back to the dorms when we're done, so Mister Filch doesn't… harass any of you for being out past curfew. Least I can do."

"Thank you, Professor." We all said in unison as we followed him to his office.

"So," Lupin relaxed in his seat, hands splayed out over his chest. "Where'd you learn the patronus charm? That's incredibly advanced magic, especially for someone in your year. It's difficult even for Aurors to cast that spell, even non-corporeal."

Shit. The one thing I hadn't actually prepared a lie for.

"I'm… self taught." I blinked innocently at him. "Over the summer, I started taking my studies more seriously. Y'know, after the whole uh… Basilisk incident from last year—"

Lupin subtly flinched in his seat, but Hermione wasn't so subtle in her reaction to the memory of the giant serpent.

"—I figured it was time I stopped slacking off. I need to be able to protect myself, and those around me. And I… heard from a little birdie that Dementors would be used as guards for the school this year. You can imagine how important the Patronus spell became to me after that. And lucky me that I had it under my belt, because of what happened." I shifted in my seat and quickly tried to redirect. "Your patronus was incredible too, Professor. Though I didn't get to see too much of it."

The Professor chuckled and gave me a small nod. "Thank you, Harry— is it alright if I call you Harry?" He continued once I gave him a nod in response. "Alright, Harry it is. It's no wonder that Professor McGonagall asked you to sit in with us then. She thinks very highly of you, you know."

My face turned a light red and I cleared my throat. "Thank you, I uhm— I think very highly of her too. She's an incredible teacher. And she's actually the reason I was able to join the Quidditch team in my first year."

"Oh?" Lupin leaned forward with an interested gaze. "Do tell. I've heard you're quite the player— best they've seen in a while."

Something I could work with. Thank God.

My voice grew more comfortable as I recounted the tale of saving Neville's remembral on my first day flying — though I certainly made it sound more humble than it really was — and even the concern I had when Professor McGonagall stormed out of the castle. Except, I left out the part where I— Harry— had been worried that she was going to assault me with a wooden bat for it.

Lupin's eyes glowed with excitement as he listened to the tale, and his lips split into a proud grin. Though he waited until I was done before he finally spoke up. "Exceptional, Harry. Truly. I'm sure your parents would be proud if they'd seen you that day."

Then he grew more somber.

"… I'm sorry about your parents. I was… close to them, when we were all at Hogwarts. Your father was my first real friend." His voice softened as he watched me. "But I'm sure you're not here to hear more apologies over that." It was his turn to clear his throat as he stood from his chair and moved off to the side. "Can I interest you three in a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione spoke before I could. "I'm glad we have this moment, because I actually wanted to ask you about the classes with Professor Moody — when's the first session going to be?"

"Oh!" He thumped his forehead as he waited for the tea to brew. "Darnit! I knew I'd forgotten something, thank you, Miss Granger. We'll be posting a notice in the common rooms after the weekend, but our first session should be this coming Wednesday afternoon… Around four pm? Just before dinner, I believe."

Hermione perked up. "Oh! And what will you be covering? Is it only a practical class, or will there be theory as well?"

Lupin chuckled as he set three steaming cups in front of us. "Apologies for the laugh, Miss Granger. You just remind me of an old friend." — I was sure he meant my mother — "We'll be discussing theory. Not as much as your typical defense class might be, however. It's meant to be a more practical inclusion to your pre-existing schedule. The intention is to allow you — the student body — to practice your spells more frequently."

"That sounds fun!" It was Ron's turn to perk up as he brought the tea to his lips. "Will you be teaching nonverbal spells?"

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I don't spoil everything about the lessons, Mister Weasley." He gave a playful wink, then turned to look out the window. "Ah, it's getting quite late, actually. I should probably escort you three back to the dorms. I'm sure Professor Snape will be quite… irate as it is, if he catches you three out this late."

He moved towards the door and took a quick look outside. "Don't worry about the tea, I'm sure the house elves will return it to my office later tonight. And I apologize for taking up so much of your time, thank you for humoring me."

"It's no problem, Professor." I stood from my chair and gently took the tea cup into my hands. I silently hoped that I wouldn't be expected to drink the whole thing, as my tastebuds hadn't exactly grown used to tea yet. "Maybe we could do this again, sometime? At a more appropriate time of course. It was nice getting to know you."

His face lit up in surprise and he quickly turned to hide it as he stepped out into the hall. "I'm— I'm sure we can figure something out, Harry. Thank you. Come, come. The weekend isn't over yet, so I'm sure you don't wanna sleep in too late and miss it."

As soon as we stepped into the common room, I felt the warmth of the crackling fire wash over me and the cold that I'd grown numb to slowly disappeared.

I really needed to get rid of these fucking Dementors, whatever the cost.

But as I recounted the day's events, and listened to Ron and Hermione debating what would happen during the new defense classes, I realized there were some things I still needed to do. That I had been putting off a little too long.

"Hey," I interrupted their friendly squabble, "you guys mind if I just stay down here and get some alone time for a bit? I wanted to write to uh… Y'know, about the Padfoot situation, before I head to bed and forget about it."

"Yeah, no problem mate." Ron thumped me on the back. "Just don't stay down here too long or I'll have to drag you to bed myself." A large grin spread across his face to tell me he wasn't joking, before he moved towards the stairs reaching up into our bedroom. "G'night, 'mione."

"Good night, Ron."

The witch watched our friend's retreating figure as he bounded up the stairs with too much energy for this late at night. "… He's right, though." She then turned to look at me seriously. "Promise you won't stay up too late. Please."

"I promise I won't stay up too late. I'll go to bed right after the letters are done."

She stared at me a moment longer, before she seemed satisfied and nodded. "Alright. Thank you." Then she quickly leaned in, planted a kiss on my cheek, and hurried off towards her own dorm — with me left standing there in the middle of the common room as I tried to process it with what little energy I had left in me.

It was the second time she'd kissed me. Maybe not on the lips but— Hermione and Harry never really had that kind of relationship. Not explicitly. So why…

Honestly, I'd deal with it some other time. These letters were going to drain what was left of my brain power anyways. So, I sat down near the soft, snapping fire and began to write my response to Amelia Bones first.

Dear Madam Bones,

Thank you for the letter — and for your kind words. I've been all, all things considered. I hope the same can be said for you. I also very much appreciated our last conversation.

I'd love to meet with you for lunch sometime. After all, I was being honest when I said that I wish to get to know you more, and to help out with your department. Though, I'm also aware that it might be difficult to meet, given my academic obligations, and your schedule. I'm sure we can work something out, indeed. Perhaps we could even meet at Hogsmeade? Unless you have somewhere more preferable.

I could only thank the Gods that Daedalus was helping me write this thing. Otherwise it'd be a bunch of chicken scratch and tripping over myself.

I also appreciate the invitation for Thanksgiving! Though, truthfully, I find myself surprised by such an offer. Certainly, if everything works out, I'd love to spend the holidays with you and Susan. Extend my thanks to her as well, please — she was very helpful in my efforts to support the students on the train after the… unexpected encounter.

P.S.

Whatever Hestia has told you about her and I, is likely exaggerated and no doubt meant to cause some amount of trouble for me. She's a sharp one, and she certainly keeps me on my toes. Thank you again, for introducing her to me. Though, I fear I may gain more grey in my hair yet.

With that one done — and a few more suggestions from Daedalus — I gently folded it into an envelope, then started on the next one. Though, honestly, I was a lot more concerned about how the hell I was going to convince Andromeda Tonks to meet me, especially with no prior history.

"Christ…" I sighed, then started to write.

Dear Mrs. Tonks — fuck me that sounded a little too formal.

I hope you'll forgive the unexpected nature of this letter. My name is Harry Potter — though you may have recently heard me be referred to by a different title. Due to circumstances I'm still adjusting to myself, I have inherited the Black family seat and its 'responsibilities.'

If I can be honest, I'm actually writing to you because I've been made aware of some of your history regarding the family, and the troubles it's caused you. I'm aware that you may not want to revisit it, nor do I blame you for it. In truth, I find myself in possession of a house— a history— obligations I neither asked for, nor fully agree with. And I would be foolish to navigate it fully alone. Or worse yet, guided by those who benefit from the worst tendencies of my predecessors.

From what I understand, you chose a different path — one I can respect. One that I wish had actually become more common in our shared family.

I wish — if you're willing — to meet with you in person, so we can discuss the Family, and your future in regards to it. Make no mistake, I am under no delusions that you have any love left for those who cast you out, nor a desire to shed your name and return. In truth, you're perhaps the only one left that might actually understand me, and my position.

But, as long as this letter is already, this is not purely related to our shared heritage. I'm also coming to you with concerns over a close friend of mine. Someone who is severely ill — both mentally, and physically — and I fear for his safety and well being.

I hope you'll believe me when I say that I truly understand what it's like to be the black sheep of an already dark family. To be cast out from those you called your own, and thrust into a world anew, and unlike anything you've come to expect.

And I will understand completely if you decline my offer to meet.

You are under no obligations to me, nor anyone else. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

If you're open to speaking, please let me know a time and place that would be most comfortable for you.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

I stared at the letter in silence for longer than I'd have liked to admit. Perhaps I'd laid it all on too thick— Perhaps I'd used the wrong words— Perhaps I was a fool for thinking such a long shot in the dark would be more than a fantasy in the end.

My fingers tucked the letter into the envelope then closed it before I could change my mind.

Whatever happened next— however stupid of an idea this may become— I knew I had to do it for Sirius. I knew that I would do whatever it takes. Even if I had to storm Fudge's office and cast an Imperius on the fucker just to make him see reason.

My chest boiled and a low growl rumbled through my throat as I stared down at the envelope. Nothing would get in between me, and saving his life. Not this time.

"Dobby."

Snap.

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Please take this," I offered both envelopes to the Elf, "to Hedwig, please. Then go back to keeping an eye on Padfoot. Let me know when he reaches Hogsmeade, alright?"

Dobby grabbed the envelopes and held them tightly against his handstitched robe as if they were the most precious thing in the world. "Yessir, Master Harry! Dobby be taking these to your owl!"

Snap.

He was gone again. And I was left alone. My gaze locked onto the burning embers of the fireplace, as it felt like my chest had started to burn with a fire of its own.

I stayed there for a while. Longer than I could remember — but shorter than it truly felt like — before I moved upstairs and laid in my bed. With no idea of what would await me tomorrow.