Chapter Text
Hermione, Luna, and Neville all came to visit him the next morning, just as Madam Pomfrey was clearing him to leave.
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, giving him a big hug. Luna and Neville piled on as well.
The group eyed Madam Pomfrey and didn’t say anything until she’d gone back to her office. “Is Basil safe?” Hermione whispered.
“Yeah, yeah she is,” Harry said, grinning back. “Dumbledore came in last night, and it’s all going to work out. Hagrid’s clear, the Exterminators are looking for Basil in the wrong place, and this guy,” Harry jammed a finger towards Lockhart, “is getting in a lot of trouble.”
“Who is that?” Neville asked.
“Just… er… someone I Saw. A very bad man. He’s going to get what he deserves, though.”
“Not bad looking, though,” Luna said, and Hermione giggled in an uncharacteristically girlish voice.
Oh, I almost forgot about that! H exclaimed. Hermione did always have a crush on Lockhart.
After Harry was released, they all walked together down to the Great Hall. Harry couldn’t help but notice that people were muttering and whispering about him again. This time, it wasn’t about him being a Squib, or Potty, or a Seer. This time, they all whispered, “Basilisk Rider” and their voices were full of awe.
Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, suddenly ravenous. As he piled eggs, bacon, sausage, and cantaloupe onto his plate, he barely noticed that nearly everyone at the table had gone silent.
The Quidditch team walked in together and took the seats around Harry, Hermione, and Neville.
“Oliver,” Harry said, choking down a piece of bacon, “I’m so sorry. I meant to be there. I tried, so hard…”
“Are you kidding, Harry? Loads of people have gotten to play Quidditch. No one has ever ridden a basilisk through a Quidditch match,” George said.
“Or fought off a whole band of ministry officials with Bludgers…” Fred added.
“In fact, we’re going to lodge an official request that all future matches be played on basilisks.”
“It wasn’t directly through the match…” Harry trailed off, still waiting for Wood’s reaction. Fred and George couldn’t care less about the cup, but Wood – he cared about it more than anything. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia looked between Wood and Harry, as if they didn’t know how things would go down, either.
“Harry,” Wood said, “you’re a member of the team. And we stick together.”
Harry slumped down in relief. He really thought that he’d be kicked off the team, at the least. “What, you really think that I’d kick off a Seeker who has never lost a match? But, if you ever prioritize basilisk riding over Quidditch again… I might have to rethink my decision,” he said, slapping Harry on the shoulder.
“Fair,” Harry said. He hoped that wouldn’t be a problem any more.
There was only one more surprise that morning: Hedwig, flying in with a letter. It was, of course, from Fletcher. While the team joked about Quidditch and basilisks, Harry unfurled it.
Dear Mr. Potter,
It would seem that our case is shortly to be concluded. In your favour, I might add! Please keep me in mind for any further legalities you would like to pursue.
Yours truly,
Dungren Fletcher
Harry didn’t even have to think about it. He grabbed a Galleon out of his pocket, ripped off a piece of parchment and wrote back,
Fletcher,
Fuck you.
Sincerely,
Harry
Hermione looked at the letter and raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
~
Without the extra 200 points from saving Ginny, Gryffindor did not win the House Cup that year. Everyone knew that Gryffindor had missed its chance both at the Quidditch and House Cups largely because of Harry. Yet, no one seemed to mind too much. Being the only house to ever tame and hide a basilisk from Ministry officials carried its own cred.
Dean Thomas made a huge trophy with “Basilisk Saviours” emblazoned on the bottom and presented it to Harry and the rest of the team right after the House Cup. Everyone at the Gryffindor table cheered uproariously. The Great Hall might not have been decked out in red and gold, but they felt like they had won something, after all.
It was about time to start packing and getting ready for the train home, but Harry still had a few things to do. He walked down to the Trophy Room on the third floor, right up to the Special Services to the School Trophy, awarded to one Tom Riddle in 1943.
I promised you I’d destroy it. We didn’t need it after all.
No, we didn’t.
Harry raised his wand and shattered the glass, breaking it into a million pieces. No one came running at the noise. You get to pick: melting? Vanishing? A simple defacing?
H thought long and hard. All three, in the proper order.
So Harry summoned a quill and wrote the best thing he could think of: You-no-Poo, the constipation sensation that’s gripping the nation. (It was a crime that the Weasley twins would never get to market that. It deserved to exist in this timeline, however briefly.) Then, Harry melted the trophy. Then, he vanished the melted gold, the glass, and the stand, so there was nothing at all left of Tom Riddle’s legacy at Hogwarts. It was as if it had never been.
Next, Harry went to visit Hagrid.
“Is she alrigh’, Harry?” He asked, as soon as he recognized Harry’s face at the door.
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, grinning. Hagrid matched his smile with his own.
“An' Dumbledore says I'll start me new job nex' year. Are yeh lot taking Care o' Magical Creatures?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry said, and – in that moment – it was true. He’d take it all: the Flobberworms, the Blast-Ended Skrewts, the crazy Hippogriff ride. After all, that was what he’d fought so hard for this year.
Before he walked back to the castle, Harry stopped at the edge of the grounds, right at the cusp of the forbidden forest, and Summoned the invisibility cloak. Harry suspected that Basil had dropped it off close to the edge; he wasn’t that good at Summoning yet. Good luck, Basil, H and Harry thought, sending their wishes into the cool shade of the wood.
When Harry got back to the castle, Malfoy was waiting for him, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
“Oi! Potty,” Malfoy called out, as if Harry could’ve missed him. The hall was entirely empty aside from them.
Against his better judgement, Harry went over to him. “Malfoy?”
“I bet you think you’re so great, with all that basilisk fuckery.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. The rest of the school thought it was pretty cool, at least. “I just wanted to show you something. While you were faffing about with your pet all year, I was practicing…”
Malfoy scrunched up his eyes, concentrating very hard, and – just for a second – his head changed, shortening and contorting into something animalistic, maybe feline. Then his face was back: pointy, blonde, and entirely human. “I still remember our bet. And I’m going to win.”
Harry couldn’t think of anything to say. He tried to press his jaw together, but he was very much afraid that it had dropped at that display. Harry had looked at his Animagus book a total of one time – one time – the whole school year. Meanwhile, Malfoy had already made a partial transformation.
“Have a great summer, Potty.” He said, and then walked away, his shoulders straight and proud.
Fuck.
Yup.
~
Harry’s parents met him at Platform 9 ¾. They scooped him up into a hug. “We’re so happy to see you!” his mother said. By the happy, trusting look in her eyes, Harry could tell that she hadn’t heard about the basilisk… yet. Harry let himself slump into the contact. He was so happy to be home – it had been quite a year.
“Let’s go home,” his dad said. “We’ve got a surprise for you.” Harry waved to Hermione, with her parents, and Neville with his. He even spotted Luna with her dad. He knew he’d see them all again soon.
“Alright, I’m ready,” he said. They linked elbows with him and pulled him into a side-along. Before he knew it, he was at home.
“What’s the surprise, Dad?” Harry asked, looking around for a cake or his godfather or – maybe even – a new broom. After all, why not? He had gotten mostly E’s on his exams, with an O in DADA and Charms, and a few measly A’s in subjects no one cared about anyway. James gestured for Harry to go into the sitting room. He’d expect a new broom to be in the back yard, but, yeah, the sitting room might be a good place, too.
Yet, instead of a new broom, or any present or a snack, Harry just saw Peter Pettigrew, sitting on the sofa.
“Hi,” said Peter, giving a small, awkward, wave.
“Er… Hi…” Harry replied, giving his dad a questioning look.
James put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry felt a sense of dread come over him. “Harry, Peter is going to be staying with us for a while.”
Harry wasn’t sure which part of that statement made the least sense, so he just said it right back, making each part a new question. “Staying? With us? For a while?”
“He moved in over the spring,” Lily said, taking a seat and summoning some tea. “It’s been quite nice, actually. We didn’t realize that we were a bit lonely, just the two of us.” She smiled at Peter and blew the steam on her tea. He smiled back at her, ingratiatingly.
“Dad, could I talk to you?” Harry said, trying to keep his voice even.
“Sure,” James said, throwing an apologetic look at Peter. Harry led him outside.
“I thought Peter had a flat,” Harry said, “in London.”
“Yes well, he’s come on some bad luck recently.”
“What about his family’s estate? Shouldn’t they be the ones to take him in?”
James looked at him, his eyes begging for Harry to be more understanding. James hunched down to Harry’s level, so they were eye to eye, putting both of his hands on Harry’s shoulders, so he couldn’t look away. “Peter had… a hard war,” his Dad said, “you wouldn’t understand. He needs to be with people who accept him. His family aren’t… his family doesn’t… really get him.”
Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to yell, he wanted to beg his dad to reconsider. If anyone had had a hard war, it was his parents, and Sirius and Remus, not bloody. fucking betray-your-friends Peter Pettigrew.
But it was already done. It had happened while he wasn’t even living here. His parents had been lonely, their friend had needed some help, and they had made a decision. There wasn’t any problem with that, except that said ‘friend’ was a secret Death Eater who, given a few more months, would’ve sold them out to Voldemort.
Harry’s shoulders slumped. This was not the way to win this fight. If he threw a tantrum right here and gave his parents an ultimatum – him or Peter – he’d probably win. But they still wouldn’t believe him.
“I need to know if you’re going to be able to treat our guest with kindness and respect,” his dad said, still looking at him beseechingly.
Harry nodded his head. “Yeah, Dad. It won’t be a problem.”
His dad smiled, patted him, and stood up to his full height. “I’m so happy to hear that, Harry. We’ve missed you so much. It’s going to be great with Peter living here, you won’t be on your own so much. You’ll see.”
Harry gave him a tight smile.
We’re going to get him, right?
You bet. Operation Liars and Liberation is back on. Let’s make it four out of four.