To Everybody's Disapproval

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/37387669.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Dudley Dursley & Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley & Harry Potter,
Walburga Black & Harry Potter, Susan Bones & Harry Potter, Hannah
Abbott & Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter, Rubeus
Hagrid & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott &
Harry Potter
Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley,
Draco Malfoy, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Voldemort (Harry
Potter), Poppy Pomfrey
Additional Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel,
Morally Grey Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mild
Bashing, BAMF Harry Potter, Asexual Harry Potter, Hogwarts First
Year, here there be queer characters, This will be an absolute monster of
a fic, You Have Been Warned, I will finish this no matter what, Don't
copy to another site, Slytherin Harry Potter, Harry tries to protect
everyone, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Good Petunia
Evans Dursley, Not Canon Compliant, please don't add my fic to
goodreads, please don't feed my work to AI
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of What Goes Around (Comes Around)
Stats: Published: 2022-02-26 Completed: 2022-07-13 Words: 171,869
Chapters: 23/23
 To Everybody's Disapproval
by Arkodian

Summary

After having some of his older self's memories unceremoniously dumped into his mind,
Harry has changed a few things: Vernon is gone, Harry started learning magic from Walburga
Black and he has a snake familiar named Mehen. Things have settled as much as they can -
until his Hogwarts letter finally arrives and he has some choices to make.
There's the question of how much he's willing to sacrifice and what to change about the
horrible future he has seen. And how much can 11-year-old him change anyway when faced
with experienced adults who may be playing their own games to keep control of him and
students who seem to hate him?

Time to find out and step on some toes in the process. After all, somebody will have to get rid
of Quirrelmort and turn this death trap into the semblance of a school. And if Dumbledore
won't, Harry will sure try.
One thing is for sure: this time, he won't conform to anyone's expectations but his own.

Notes

If you haven't read Part 1, I suggest you do because Harry has already changed a lot of stuff.
If you absolutely don't want to, there should be enough context to understand what's going
on, though. Your choice. ;)
 Something Magic
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

That Wednesday morning, exactly one week before his 11th birthday, Harry woke with his
eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The deep pit of dread in his stomach had gotten deeper
overnight and not even the small breaths of the snake sleeping soundly across his stomach
could soothe him.

Today was the day. He would find out whether him messing with the timeline had changed
something so dramatically that he would go downstairs to find no letter waiting for him. A
part of him was chilled at the thought, but a smaller voice in his mind questioned whether it
would be all bad to stay with his cousin and aunt, who were, honestly, much nicer now than
he had ever thought they could be.

Still, Harry put on his glasses – the new ones with the correct prescription – and after
brushing his teeth and trying to tame his hair, trudged his way downstairs where his aunt was
making breakfast. It was Dudley’s turn today to do the dishes afterwards, though the two
boys usually just changed up who washed and who dried.

“Good morning, Harry. Is Dudley up yet?” Petunia gave him a tight smile, then turned back
to the bacon in the pan.

“I haven’t seen him yet. But he should be up any minute.”

Breakfast was Dudley’s favourite mealtime, so they didn’t have to wait long. With a smile at
Harry he dug in and Harry did the same, though it tasted like nothing in his mouth. When he
shifted on his seat, he could feel the tiny form of his backpack against his stomach. He’d
managed to do a wandless shrinking charm on it this morning, though it had been packed for
a few days with everything Harry considered essential.

There was his – mostly stolen, though he got some pocket money from his aunt now –
muggle money stuffed into the front pouch along with a few galleons he’d found at
Grimmauld Place, as well as any official documents he’d managed to filch from Aunt
Petunia. There were his favourite stuffed animals – yes, he still needed those, shut up Mehen
– all of the books he had borrowed from the Black library, some books he just liked a lot and
had gotten from Dudley during his hospital stay, and some pens and paper and school books.
Harry had left the door to his room open, as well as the window cracked, so Mehen would be
able to come outside tonight for Harry to pick up. It was all pre-arranged, though his familiar
was quick to reassure him all of the preparation was unnecessary.

Harry wasn’t sure. So he continued to shift on his chair, trying to keep himself from feeling
for the hidden backpack every few minutes to make sure it was still there.

Then they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. Petunia, who
was frying the next batch of bacon, didn’t even turn around to say “can one of you boys get
the mail?”

“I’ll get it.” Harry’s voice may have sounded a bit squeaky, but Dudley’s thankful smile
indicated that nobody had noticed.

There were two letters on the doormat. One was a familiar-looking letter made of parchment,
the other seemed to be a bill. The tiny part of him holding out hope that Dudley had magic
too died a quiet death. It was with mixed feelings that he looked at the letter written in green
ink and without a stamp. Instead, it had a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms with a lion,
an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding the large letter H. Harry wiped his sweaty palms
on his pants and picked it up.

Mr. H. Potter

The Second Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He could have sworn he heard an owl hooting outside, but instead of looking for it, he went
back to the kitchen, feet dragging on the floor. Part of him wanted to hide the letter in his
pants, under his jumper, shove it through the crack in the cupboard under the stairs… Nobody
would know for a while and he could figure it all out by himself. But. Dudley would never
forgive him and the child service people would probably panic if he just up and vanished. On
second thought, Petunia probably would too, if only because she would be blamed.

His aunt was still frying bacon when he returned, as if nothing had changed at all. Dudley
was finished with his first plate, though, and looked up when Harry threw the bill onto the
table.

“Ooh, what have you got there? That looks really nice! Maybe a birthday invitation from
someone from our class?” He frowned, obviously wondering where his was.

Petunia continued working at the stove, blissfully unaware that Harry shrugged and opened
the envelope. His mind remembered the thick paper, even if his fingers didn’t. He could have
mouthed the words when he read them, but instead shut it all behind his mind shields to read
through it once more.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International

Confed. of Wizards)

Harry had forgotten how pretentious that sounded and barely contained a snort.
Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

And wasn’t that a load of poppycock, he thought. If he’d gotten a chance to read this the first
time, he might have even thought it a hoax and thrown the letter in the nearest bin.
Dumbledore knew he’d been dropped off with muggles. What would make him think he’d
even been told about the magical world? Faith in humanity and familial love? Besides… the
realization that McGonagall must have seen where the letter had been addressed the first few
times and had done nothing sent his mind reeling and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

“What is it, Harry?” Dudley made grabby hands for the letter and, knowing the content by
heart anyway, Harry handed it over.

“It must be a joke… I think it’s a joke? Right?”

Dudley looked at the seal first, frowned, read the first few lines and then his eyes turned
wide. “Oh. My god. You were invited to a magic school!”

There was an almighty crash at the stove and a pasty white Petunia turned around to stare
first at her son, then Harry, then the letter in his hands.

“W-w-w-what?”

“Hogwarts… sounds kind of weird, if you ask me. Definitely not like a school Gandalf would
have attended. Did Gandalf go to a magic school?”

Harry privately found his aunt’s expression very amusing but put on a thoughtful expression.
“He must have learned it all somewhere. But you’re right. Hogwarts doesn’t exactly sound
very powerful, does it?” It really didn’t. Whatever had the founders been thinking.

“Can I… see?”

Dudley shrugged and passed the letter to his mother. Harry kept his hands clenched instead of
wrenching it back, and his magic leashed, although it wanted to reach out and summon the
letter. He knew from experience that there would be others should this one be taken. Or
maybe there wouldn’t be; after all he had opened the first letter he had received this time.
Well, it was too late either way, as Petunia was staring at the parchment.

Her hands were shaking and Harry could see her knuckles standing out white against the rest
of her hands. She mouthed the words of the letter, almost choking on the “Dumbledore” part.
When she was done, her lips were such a thin line that they may as well have been non-
existent.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”, Dudley whispered. As the kitchen was silent as a grave,
however, his voice carried and Petunia’s head whipped around.

“Er… no. I… didn’t exactly get around to it. I thought I had more time. And I didn’t think I’d
get anything like that, so…”

They both looked at Petunia at the exact same time.

“She doesn’t seem very surprised, does she?”, Dudley mused, brows furrowed.

“You… Dudley… you know…?”

“She really doesn’t”, Harry agreed, still smiling internally. He may have (mostly) forgiven his
aunt, but it was still more entertaining than it had any right to be to see her stumbling through
this situation. Going through it without an apoplectic Vernon also helped immensely.

“He’s been showing me magic every night”, Dudley said, pride in his voice. “It’s so
awesome!”

The hands gripping the letter tightened even more and Petunia swayed a bit. Harry had half a
mind to prepare to catch her should she faint. The other half of his mind viciously whispered
to just let her fall, but he shoved that one to the side.

“Magic…” Petunia repeated, slightly dazed. “Since when…?”

Harry shrugged. “Well… it never really made sense to me that you hated me so much. When
I realized that I could make things happen, that suddenly explained rather a lot and I tried
to… you know… not do it anymore. But Vernon” they both flinched at the word, and Harry
was reminded of the taboo on Voldemort’s name, which was funnier than he thought it should
be “still ended up beating me to a pulp. And Dudley was so scared because he was wondering
why his father would do something like that and I couldn’t not tell him. But I was scared
you’d be the same as Vernon” another cringe “so I decided to wait to tell you. I was going to,
I promise!”

Harry took a deep breath of air after all that. He was almost afraid he’d suffocate if he went
any longer without breathing. He was also slightly afraid Dudley would break his neck, as he
was nodding along to everything rather vigorously.

“You… told Dudley because you were worried about him?”

Petunia finally had the wherewithal to slump into a chair. At least there would be no fainting.

“He did. He made a light in his palm! And made our stuffed animals fly! It’s awesome!”

Petunia nodded, then shook her head as if to clear it.

“You don’t seem very surprised by the fact that I can do magic.” Harry crossed his arms and
made sure he sounded appropriately suspicious.

“You’re right. I’m not. Your mother… she got one of these letters too. She was the first witch
in the family.”

“Aunt Lilly was a witch? That sounds amazing!” The fact that Dudley was more excited than
Harry brought a tiny smile to his face. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?!”

“Because I… I’m not a witch.” There was still hurt in her voice and Harry felt something in
him soften a bit. “And at first, when we got you, Harry, I was so scared you’d get a letter too
because it would mean you’re just like her and you’d bring magic back into my life when I’d
just gotten rid of it. And strange things happened around you, though I thought they had
stopped now. And after Vernon left, I was still scared you’d get a letter, this time because
you’d leave Dudley behind like Lily left me.”

Harry quickly glanced at his cousin. “Oh”, Dudley said. There was so much emotion in that
one word it made Harry’s heart ache. “I hadn’t thought about that.” He looked at the letter
which was still in his mother’s hand. “I didn’t get one, so that must mean only you can go.”

Dudley’s dejected face made Harry almost want to blurt out that he wouldn’t go. But he
pushed that childish emotion down. “I wouldn’t ever forget you or leave you behind”, Harry
swore.

That got a small smile at least, though his cousin’s eyes were still suspiciously wet.

“Even if only I can go, I’ll still write you letters every week, I promise! And you’ll have to
tell me what you do in school because it doesn’t sound like we’ll do lots of science at magic
school. And I could show you stuff that I learn!”

Dudley brightened at that. “You think there’s stuff that I can do?”

Harry rather thought there was. While squibs were often left in the muggle world, he’d found
a lot of things indicating they could still make potions, and inscribing simple runes should be
possible as well. He had first looked into it – with Walburga’s help – when he had tried to
find out what kinds of magic he would be able to do during the summers between Hogwarts
years. She had been very helpful and explained that most purebloods could do magic as long
as they stayed behind their manor wards or were in the presence of an adult wizard who the
magic could be attributed to. That was pretty much all of the time and very unfair, in Harry’s
opinion – which is why he had made it his personal mission to find ways around it. So far
he’d only found out that while active magic got you a letter from the ministry, passive magic
was possible.

Active magic was spells and wand waving. Passive magic were things like potions and
ancient runes, which didn’t need much magic, if any at all. Squibs, as far as Harry had
figured out through his research, didn’t have access to their magic, but still had a latent bit of
it, which, in Walburga’s mind, made them better than muggles. Harry didn’t want to give
Dudley any hope, but there had to be a place for squibs in the magical world. If only so he
could wipe that frown off his cousin’s face.
“I’ll look into it, but there must be. My magic has to come from somewhere after all. My
mum had some and even though Aunt Petunia doesn’t, there has to be something different
about our family.”

Dudley looked a bit mollified and then got that gleam in his eyes again. “But… magic
school! That is awesome!”

That made Harry chuckle. “And my mum… My mum was a witch?” He turned to his aunt
with wide, wide eyes, watching the thin line of her mouth even out and soften.

“Yes, she was. Quite brilliant at it too, from what I heard. She met your dad at school. I… just
didn’t want to tell you about it in case you weren’t magic.”

And, Harry figured, she’d hoped he wouldn’t be magic at all.

“Wait a moment.”

Petunia put the letter down on the kitchen table. The pan was forgotten on the stove – luckily
away from the hot part of it. Harry noticed her hands weren’t shaking anymore, though.

Dudley immediately went for the letter again, greedily taking in the words. Then he noticed
the second parchment. “Look, there’s something else. It’s a shopping list, cool!” Harry
pretended to be very interested in this and scooted over to sit right next to his cousin.
Together they read the list.

“Robes?” His cousin snorted. “Does that mean you’re gonna walk around like those weird
judges in old films?”

Harry privately thought that sounded pretty accurate.

“Dragon hide? There’s actual dragons? And you get a wand! And a cauldron! And… well,
the cat is fine, but why would anyone want an owl or a toad? Or a broom? Do you clean with
it? Ride on it like a witch from a fairy tale?”

Harry let his cousin babble excitedly about the shopping list, interjecting with a few
comments here and there, but mostly staying out of it. It seemed like he’d be dragging a very
hyper cousin along to Diagon Alley this time. It would definitely keep him from having to
memory-charm his aunt again and that could only be a good thing.

Speaking of Petunia, he heard her steps come down the stairs again and enter the kitchen.
Looking up, he found her slightly dishevelled and with dusty streaks on her dress. In her hand
was a small box that had some parts that were yellowed from light exposure and looked
rather old in general.

“I hid this in the attic because I… couldn’t look at it. And to protect it from Vernon. I got
some of the photos I showed you from here, the ones of your mum and grandparents,
remember? But there’s others too. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.”

She put the box on the table and Harry abandoned his letter to get a better look at it. It was
unremarkable at first glance, but when he opened the lid, he found himself staring at a
moving picture.

The first thing he saw was her smile. The second was her eyes and the mane of fire-red hair.
He immediately recognised his mother from all the still pictures his aunt had already shown
him. But this was a magical one and she was caught in a loop of throwing her arms around a
girl the same age as her, about twelve or so, smiling and waving at the camera. It must have
been cold, as her Gryffindor scarf fluttered behind her. Harry felt himself swallow back tears,
but something must have shown on his face because Petunia awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“They have moving pictures in the wizarding world and Lily sometimes sent some. Our
parents had a whole drawer full, but of course they couldn’t show anyone or display them.
Lily took most when we cleaned the house out after they died. But I took a few too and just…
put them away.”

Dudley had abandoned the letter by now and watched the picture with his mouth hanging
open. “Who’s the other girl?” He pointed to the brown-haired girl next to Lily, who Harry
thought looked vaguely familiar.

“That was one of her best friends. I don’t quite remember the name. Something M.
Madeleine? Madison? Margret?” Petunia shrugged. (Marlene McKinnon? his mind supplied.)

Harry drew his eyes away from the photo, put it to the side and looked at the next. His
mother riding a broom, her smile slightly wonky and her eyes pinched together as if she was
concentrating very hard. Then his mother waving a wand, shooting glittering sparks into the
air, a beaming grin on her face. Then his mother petting an owl and feeding it treats.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten about him. She got that owl in second year because her grades
were so good and our parents wanted to reward her. After that she sent a letter almost every
week. I think his name was Hermes.”

More pictures, more faces, some familiar, some not. Harry could have sworn he saw Alice
Longbottom in there somewhere and made a note to possibly give a copy to Neville, should
they ever exchange more than a few words. There was also one with a very uncomfortable-
looking Severus Snape, which Harry decided to definitely use as blackmail material at some
point. His mother got older and older in the pictures. At first his father didn’t feature very
much, but suddenly there he was.

Messy hair, round glasses... but the photo itself made him snort.

“That’s your father. They didn’t get along at first, but fell in love in their last few years at
Hogwarts. He loved playing pranks. Gave Vernon a drink at Lily and his wedding that made
him speak in a squeaky voice for half an hour.” Petunia actually giggled and Harry looked at
her in surprise. “At the time I was enraged, but looking back it was quite funny.”

“Why is he… covered in that?” Dudley asked.

A wistful smile. “The pranks often targeted Lily’s whole year. But she wasn’t someone to
take that lying down, so she hexed him six ways to Sunday. Took a photo for blackmail as
well. I think the pranks stopped for two whole months.”
That certainly explained the weird slime his father was covered with. He had his hands up in
a defensive position as if he wanted to escape the camera – or a new attack – but as the photo
was moving, you could still see his face just before he managed to cover it. The closer he
looked, the more Harry thought, that there was an almost satisfied glint in his eyes and a
small smile on his lips that made his heart ache.

He moved on. More pictures of daily Hogwarts things until… what must have been the last
year. His father made a reappearance then, often, and not even covered in slime.

“Lily seemed so happy when she started dating James. I have to admit I was a bit jealous, so I
went looking for a boyfriend too and found Vernon. Maybe I should have looked a bit harder
instead”, she admitted.

“I’ll say.” Dudley snorted.

“Oh Duddykins. I’m still glad I met him because without him, I wouldn’t have you.”

“Can I… keep some of them?”, Harry asked tentatively.

“Of course! I wouldn’t be able to put them up anyway. We have too many non-magical
people coming over. You can choose the ones you like best and maybe we can put them in a
photo album. And for Dudley too, for when you send pictures yourself? We’ll have to get you
a magic camera”, Petunia mused.

It was one of those days when Harry’s brain couldn’t comprehend the difference between this
reality and the one he remembered. How could his aunt be so different? How could his cousin
light up at the possibility of a magical photo album?

“Where do we get all this stuff, though? I don’t think we can find” Dudley pulled the list
towards himself again and frowned at it “Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger at a
normal bookstore.”

“There’s a magical shopping district. The first few years Lily dragged me with her when she
went, although later she went with her friends. I’m sure I can still find it.” She trailed off.

“Uuumm… Aunt Petunia?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“What do we tell the Child Protection Service people when they asked why I’m not going to
school with Dudley but going to a school they’ve never heard of and probably can’t find any
mentions of? Won’t they be suspicious?”

That made his aunt frown. “Yes, that’s a very good point. It’s a boarding school, so we could
probably tell them how that’ll give you more structure. And your grades are pretty good, so
we might explain it away as a school for gifted children. But they’ll want to check up with
your teachers too.”

Harry had a picture of Snape being interrogated by a muggle child psychologist flash in his
mind. He definitely wanted to see that.
 “It says in the letter to send an acceptance anyway. Well… it says they “await my owl”...?”

“That could be a problem. But if we go shopping tomorrow, I’m sure we can send a letter
from the post office there. I remember there being one.”

Harry nodded, already composing a letter in his mind. Though maybe his aunt would write it
this time instead of Hagrid. He wondered what Dumbledore would think. Or McGonagall, if
she was the one receiving the acceptance letters.

“Mum, what else can you tell us about the magical world? I want to know everything!”,
Dudley said.

The rest of the day was spent drawing every little bit of knowledge out of Petunia that was
still hiding somewhere in her brain. It turned out to be a lot more than any of them had
thought possible. At least he’d be able to explain away his knowledge of the wizarding world
this way, which had bothered him for a while.

Dudley seemed to light up as well, demanding more and more stories, looking through the
photos again and again. Halfway through the day Harry finally felt safe enough to put the
backpack into his room, although he left it packed just in case. Mehen just gave him a
reproachful look that said “I told you so” without any words. Speaking of snakes, as soon as
he heard about Slytherin – although Petunia wasn’t sure about the name and called it
“Slithering-or-something” – Dudley decided that was the house Harry had to be in. Because
snakes.

Harry just stuck out his tongue at him and went back to listening to his aunt’s stories about
his mother.

Chapter End Notes

And here's part 2! Well, theoretically I've got it down as Part 1 in my folder because it's
the first year and the last one as Part 0, but AO3 doesn't let me do that. So here we are.
Things have been set in motion and are about to get interesting (whose definition of
interesting will depend on your perspective).
While I'm currently writing Part 3, I'm editing this as I go, so the final chapter count
may be subject to change. I'll let you know. ^^ I have, however, outlined all parts and
know where I'm going with this. Mostly. There's still surprises popping up when Harry
tries to save people that were supposed to be antagonists. It's a whole thing.

Posting schedule: every Tuesday. For special occasions on Saturdays, but that'll be very
limited and mostly announced beforehand.
 New Beginnings
Chapter Summary

In which everybody is surprised by how Petunia handles goblins and everyone is

weirded out by Ollivander.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Before they left very early the next morning Harry luckily caught a glimpse of himself in the
hallway mirror and realised he had forgotten something very important. The lightning scar
stood out stark against his skin, not quite covered by his hair.

“…Aunt Petunia?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Well… remember how you told me my parents didn’t die in a car accident?”

She nodded, the shadow of pain flashing across her face. Yesterday’s conversation had taken
that dark turn at some point when Dudley had asked about magical transport and why Lilly
had used a car in the first place.

It had been the first time Harry had the urge to hug his aunt when she got very quiet and
talked about the little information she had about the wizard civil war, a dark lord and
righteous Lily fighting for what she believed in. How Harry had been found outside that
morning and how only a letter explained what had happened and how he and they would be
protected as long as Harry stayed with Petunia. How she had argued with Vernon late into the
night, who had wanted to drop him off at the nearest police station.

Petunia had looked like a kicked puppy when Harry had mused “So that’s why you kept me
even though you didn’t want me.”

“Will people recognise me?” Harry scrunched up his nose. “Remember all those weird people
we meet sometimes who seem to know me, or bow to me, or… stuff?”

Petunia scrunched his nose up, not quite unlike him. “Yes. I see your point.” She hesitated.
“Do you want to be recognised?”

Harry thought about that for a bit longer. It might help him, reputation-wise, to be seen in
Diagon Alley doing his school shopping. He might meet some important people, start
friendships with his future classmates… But the longer he imagined that scenario, the more
he realised he had absolutely no desire to be fawned over or gawked at. Not to mention what
kind of impression that would leave on Dudley and Petunia.

“I don’t think so. I just want to see the magical world for the first time. Get my school stuff.
I’ll have enough time to get to know people later.”

Petunia seemed relieved by that and started moving towards the door again. “Then I suggest a
hat. We’ll have to walk through London anyway, so we should pass a shop or two where we
can find you one that covers the scar.” She hesitated again. “And the hair. It resembles your
father’s quite a bit and everyone who knew him would probably recognise it.”

There was a slight question in there again, probably that hiding it would also mean people
who had known his parents wouldn’t be able to recognise him. But Harry had heard it all
before and Petunia had, unknowingly, filled in some more of the gaps.

Harry just nodded decisively. “Let’s get a hat.”

They got two hats because Dudley insisted on matching his cousin. Overall, Harry decided
that he made a better first impression than last time. His clothes weren’t new, but fit. His
glasses were his actual prescription and weren’t held together by tape and faith. He had a
general idea what he was going to do and how everything worked and didn’t trail after
Hagrid wide-eyed and naïve – although the last part was certainly going to be taken on by
Dudley.

Harry’s theory regarding squibs seemed to gain merit, as both Petunia and Dudley saw The
Leaky Cauldron. Harry knew Dudley saw it because after frowning for just a moment, he
immediately exclaimed in excitement once Harry pointed it out. He knew that Petunia saw it
because she wrinkled her nose like she had just smelled something rotten. Her expression
didn’t lighten when they entered the dingy pub.

While Dudley looked around in awe at the weirdly dressed people and the casual magic,
Petunia made a beeline for the counter.

“Excuse me?”

Tom looked up with a questioning look that turned into understand once he looked the three
of them up and down. “Passage to the alley?”, he asked.

“Yes please.”

The bartender nodded and led them to the back of the pub and the brick wall. Harry thought
he knew the combination, but still made sure to pay attention. He didn’t feel like asking Tom
every time he came through, with or without his family. There were butterflies in his stomach
again that he barely managed to keep down. It helped a bit when Dudley reached for his hand
and squeezed it a few times, as if to make sure that 1. Harry was still there and 2. all of this
was real. Harry squeezed back just as hard.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley!” Tom smiled at them while spreading his arms out a bit, as if
showcasing the shopping district was the single most exciting thing he did every day. Who
knew. Maybe it was. “If you have any question, just come back and ask me.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Petunia gave him a tight-lipped but genuine smile.
Then they entered the magical world for the first time.

They had discussed where to go first and Gringotts was at the top of the list. Petunia seemed
to remember enough from Lily’s visits to the alley to know where to get money. Harry had
also caught her late last night sitting in the kitchen, looking at bank statements and scribbling
notes on a piece of paper with a frown. That she seemed willing to pay for him had made a
lump appear in his throat. Of course he knew that he had a vault at Gringotts, but knowing
Petunia didn’t made him feel a bit better about the whole cast-off clothing bit. Not that it
excused their abysmal treatment one bit, but that she would pay for his magical education
must be a huge step for her.

Getting to Gringotts proved to be difficult, however. Dudley ran up to every single shop, ooh-
ing and aaah-ing at the displays, ogling the witches and wizards walking past… Some turned
up their nose at him immediately, probably because they were very obviously muggleborn.
Harry found he didn’t care. At least not more than planning in his head to give them green
hair or cursing them with boils.

They managed to make it to the steps of the bank eventually, although Dudley continued
being obvious by staring at the goblins. They sneered at him at first – until they managed to
decipher his stare as pure awe. After that, the guards at the entrance stood a little straighter
and Harry suppressed a snicker.

The bustle in the bank was loud as usual. Money clinking as galleons changed hands, long
queues with irate customers and more irate goblins… It didn’t help that Harry had the
annoying urge to hide somewhere, as his mind replayed the break-in into the bank that his
past/future-self had apparently deemed necessary. What an idiot, he decided.

Petunia kept her eyes trained forward, not glancing to either side. Not at the wizards
frowning at their clothes, not at the goblins doing something similar. In fact, the more they
stared, the more her back became ramrod-straight and her nose lifted. The first time she made
eye contact with someone was when they had reached the teller. Harry was mildly impressed.
That turned to downright awe when she stared the goblin down, seconds of silence ticking by
bit by bit, until he deemed it proper to ask for their purpose at the bank.

“We would like to exchange muggle money into wizarding money.”

Harry coughed politely while tugging at her sleeve. “Um… Aunt Petunia?”

“Yes, what is it?”

He addressed the goblin directly. “I wanted to ask if my parents have an account for me
here.”

Petunia lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt and didn’t correct him. If he had to describe
her expression, Harry would say she looked intrigued.
“Name”, the goblin said, or almost grunted, if he was being honest.

“Harry James Potter.”

There was a wheezing laugh then. “Pull the other one.”

Now that was just rude. Petunia seemed to think the same. “Excuse me?!”

The goblin stared her down again, only relenting when that simply resulted in her looking
angrier. “Does Mr Harry Potter have his key then”, he mocked.

“I never received one”, Harry said. When the goblin prepared to sneer at him again, he just
lifted his eyebrows at him. “Can I verify my identity in some other way?”

That seemed to mollify their teller a bit, as apparently nobody was stupid enough to take a
scheme this far. Remembering the dragon, Harry tended to agree. “Of course. You can do a
blood test. If your parents left you an account, your blood will prove you’re their child and
we’ll have your name and magical signature from then on. Of course there would be a fee.”

At that he looked at Petunia, who nodded tersely.

“Then follow Sharpclaw please.” He waved another goblin over, who bowed once and then
swiftly led them through the hall, towards a corridor Harry was sure he’d never entered
before, not even in his memory-life. Then again, Hagrid had brought the key – which just
made him wonder again what kind of organisation skills Dumbledore and McGonagall had,
as he hadn’t received it this time. He had to hurry along to not lose the goblin, but finally
made it into the more silent part of the bank. There seemed to be a row of offices and they
were led into one of them.

Dudley’s eyes were immediately drawn to the crossed axes over the desk, which made the
goblin grin, showing much more teeth than Petunia seemed comfortable with.

“I made them myself. They were my exam weapons to gain the title of master smith.”

“Woah!”

Luckily, that seemed to be exactly the reaction the goblin had wanted to see because the grin
widened and he waved them towards the seats while he rummaged in one of the drawers.
“Please sit down. I’ll bring out the test in a second.”

Harry sat down carefully; the chair was so high that his legs dangled over the floor. Dudley,
albeit slightly taller than Harry, had a similar problem. Petunia, however, sat elegantly with
her legs crossed and her long neck helpful in sneaking looks onto the desk.

“Here we go.” Sharpclaw pulled out a flask of dark liquid and opened the lid. Then he handed
Harry a small knife that looked more like a scalpel than anything else.

“Wicked”, Dudley breathed, while Petunia grimaced.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Harry? I can pay”, she offered.
Harry just shook his head and took the offered knife. He would have to face a Dark Lord
eventually. A bit of blood shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

“Three drops into this, please.” Sharclaw indicated the flask and Harry nodded.

In one swift motion he drew the blade over the soft tip of his middle finger, ignoring the gasp
from somewhere on the left where his cousin was sitting, then pressed down on it until three
drops of blood had made it into the flask. Any form of blood magic was forbidden in England
– but Gringotts had sovereignty, a bit like an embassy of a foreign country. Harry didn’t
understand all the intricacies of the situation, but had already put it on His List.

He put the finger into his mouth, where he silently healed it – it was, after all, one of the first
pieces of accidental magic he had ever done – then wiped the blade on his pants, which
earned him an appraising look from the goblin and an appalled one from Petunia. He
remembered what just a few drops of his blood had managed to do in a certain resurrection
ritual and figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

“One moment please.”

Sharpclaw swirled the liquid around a bit, then drew out a piece of parchment and upended
the contents of the flask onto it in one swift motion. It sank into the parchment immediately.
A few second ticked by, then, slowly but surely, writing appeared across it in a tidy scrawl
that looked slightly familiar, though Harry couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Ah yes. Welcome to Gringotts, Mr Potter.”

“It’s actually Evans-Potter now”, he corrected. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dudley
preen.

“I’ll change it”, Sharpclaw promised and made a note on the parchment. “It seems your
parents have set aside a vault for you. Well, multiple vaults, actually, but there is one you can
access right now.”

“Multiple?”, he mouthed. Well. That was new.

“Yes. The vault you have access to now is a trust vault, activated when they died, meant for
the guardians maintaining your upkeep, as well as purchasing school supplies, trinkets and
the like, as well as any further education you might pursue. However, it has never been
accessed before.”

“I’ll have to pay you back for all the years you took care of me!”, Harry said, looking at his
aunt.

“You will do no such thing”, she chided him, something between embarrassment and proud
determination in her eyes.

“The other vault contains about the same amount of money and a few heirlooms, to be
accessed after you come of age on your 17th birthday”, continued Sharpclaw.

“But you’re not an adult then! You’re only one when you’re 18!”, Dudley interrupted.
Harry thought that the goblin must have been very happy about Dudley’s interest in his axe
because he just sighed and, without malice, explained: “in the wizarding world, the age of
majority is 17. And because Mr Evans-Potter is a wizard, this takes precedent over any other
age limit that might exist in the muggle world.”

“Huh. Can I be an adult with 17 as well?”

The goblin narrowed his eyes and looked his cousin up and down appraisingly. “Mmh…” He
tapped his fingers against the desk and tilted his head to the side. “That is actually a rather
good question.” He turned to Petunia, eyeing her too. She stiffened, but made no other move.
“Do you possess any sort of magic, young man?”

Dudley slumped a bit and mutely shook his head.

“And you, ma’am?”

“Not as far as I know, no”, Petunia sniffed.

“But you are Petunia Dursley, the sister of Lily Potter nee Evans?”

“Petunia Evans, actually. And this is my son, Dudley Evans.”

“I see. Then, as far as the goblins are concerned, you may be a squib. There is a test to see
whether you have latent magic or not.”

“They could both see the Leaky Cauldron”, Harry said.

The goblin mmh’ed again. “There is a test you could do. If you wish. The fee for the blood
test was taken from Mr. Evans-Potter’s trust vault as soon as his identity was confirmed, but
you would have to pay for this one yourself.”

One look at Dudley’s pleading face had Petunia sighing. “Alright.”

“Yes!” His cousin fist-bumped the air and Harry muffled a snort in his hand. He could have
sworn he saw Sharpclaw do the same with a cough.

“Very well. One more moment, please.”

This time, when he rummaged in his desk – which, Harry was very sure, must contain an
expansion charm with how many things he seemed to be moving to the side – Dudley leaned
forward eagerly. Even the thought of maybe having to cut his finger too didn’t seem to deter
him.

“Here we go.” Sharpclaw pulled out a purple crystal that was about half the size of his head.
It reminded Harry a bit of an amethyst. “Please put your hand on this stone and don’t take it
off until I tell you to.”

Dudley nodded eagerly and stretched out his hand towards the stone, which Sharpclaw had
put right at the edge of the table. Harry leant forward as well, never having seen this before.
Dudley furrowed his brow, then gave a small yell when the stone started to give off a soft
light. “Harry! Harry, look! I made it glow!”

The grin stretched over his whole face and Harry found himself grinning back.

“You certainly did, young man. Which means you are, indeed, a squib. And you have rights
in the magical world, even if they are limited to some degree, as you cannot use active magic.
It does, however, mean that you can apply for emancipation at 17 and it will most likely be
granted.”

Petunia gave a small groan of horror that made Harry snicker again.

“Your turn, Ma’am.”

Dudley took his hand off the stone and Petunia replaced it with hers. She seemed slightly
hesitant and Harry wondered how much it would hurt her if the stone remained inert under
her palm. The wonder on her face when it, too, glowed for her, told him it would have hurt
more than even she probably thought.

“Congratulations, Ma’am. You are a squib as well, and thus also have some rights in the
magical world. One such right is to gain magical custody of your nephew.”

Petunia took her hand off the stone after a nod at Sharpclaw, but then furrowed her brow. “I
already have custody of my nephew. It was awarded shortly after my sister’s death, after I
informed the muggle authorities that I had found her son on my doorstep and that I agreed to
raise him.”

She blushed a bit, probably thinking about what that “raising” had entailed for about nine
years.

“Yes, I understand that. But that is in the muggle world. In the magical world, your nephew
needs a guardian who can be part of wizarding society. Muggles can’t even see the entrance
to our world, much less interact with a lot of magical places or objects. Usually, once a
muggleborn student enters Hogwarts, their head of house takes over the duty of magical
guardian until the student reaches their majority. That means any issues of bureaucratic
nature, trouble with the law, health questions or decisions regarding just the magical world
will be made by them after consultation with the muggle parents. Did you not receive a visit
from a school official who explained this?”

No, they had not. And, Harry decided, this was very suspicious. Maybe, if he decided on the
more optimistic option, this meant they wanted to avoid a fight over people wanting to be the
guardian of the boy-who-lived. At worst, it was done so McGonagall – because of course
everyone thought he would sort Gryffindor – or even Albus Dumbledore could become his
magical guardian and deal with matters behind his back. That would explain why Harry had
never had a health check at school. Why Dumbledore showed up at his trial. Why Hermione
was left lying in the hospital wing, petrified, for months.

“Nobody visited us. The letter was delivered by owl yesterday morning. I have not seen any
magical people in over a decade. Even when my nephew… arrived at my house” it was clear
that the term was haphazardly used at best “the only thing explaining the circumstances was a
letter. No visits. Ever.”

“That is troubling.” The goblin frowned at them, then shook his head. “Even better, then, that
you are qualified to take over magical custody of Harry James Evans-Potter. I will get the
paperwork immediately. I also suggest you ask for a list with some recommended books to
introduce non-magical people to the workings of the magical world at the book shop. You
seem to have a general grasp of the situation, but I think some more information would help.”

“Your advice is appreciated. Please also name a tip that you would find suitable for your
services.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. Either Aunt Petunia really knew how to deal with goblins, or she was
a very fast learner. Sharpclaw seemed to think so too, as he gave her a grin that suited his
name. “That is appreciated as well.”

He nodded once, then started rummaging in his desk again. Definitely an expansion charm.

“You may also ask for books at Flourish & Blotts that are fit for squibs. While you are not
allowed to attend Hogwarts, self-study may be discouraged but is entirely possible. Subjects
like potions, ancient runes, herbology, astrology, arithmancy and magical theory are very
much things you can achieve adequacy in. You will never be a master at them, nor will you
achieve the greatest results, but I’m sure with a bit of tenacity you can manage to be, well,
adequate.”

Dudley’s eyes lit up immediately and Petunia’s got suspiciously wet. Harry wondered if his
mother had known, then decided that probably nobody had told her, or even thought to test
his aunt. From what he knew of Lily, she would have jumped at any chance to share the
magical world with her sister. Thinking about the times she had lived in, with a Dark Lord on
the rise, encouraging squibs to enter the magical world may have been suicide, though.

“I…” Petunia had to clear her throat once and tried to covertly wipe her eyes. “Thank you for
your help.”

The goblin shrugged. “You are paying customers. Besides…”

Harry cocked his head, trying to fill in the missing words. Besides… they had been nice to
him? Treated him like an equal or professional? Helped him get one over Dumbledore? So
many options, which he would have to come back to later. And there would be a later, as
Harry intended to come back alone. Or maybe he could get one more thing done now… If he
found it in himself to trust his relatives.

Sharpclaw handed over a thick stack of paper that made Dudley groan. “I have one more
question. I think… Aunt Petunia mentioned I had a godfather as well” – she had, actually.
When wedding photos of Lily and James had surfaced in the photo box, she had remembered
enough about their friends to say that either Lupin or Sirius must have been his godfather. “I
wanted to ask if they were still alive and why they didn’t take me in or try to contact me after
my parents’ death.”
“Yes, I think we have a folder on that. A very common present for a new godchild is, after
all, an account where money can be collected for future expenses. One moment, please.”

Again, almost half his arm disappeared in the drawer. Dudley, who finally realised there was
magic involved, watched him with wide eyes.

“Here we go. Ah, yes. Sirius Black. He was named your godfather shortly after your birth
and opened an account in your name. Which is interesting, as he was, a year later,
incarcerated because he had apparently betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord, killed one of
his best friends and exploded a street with twelve muggles on it.”

Dudley’s eyes went wide and Petunia’s head snapped up. “Excuse me, what?”

The goblin was irritated by their cluelessness again, though, luckily, his anger seemed to be
directed at whoever had been supposed to inform them. “Yes. Looking at these documents, I
have to wonder how much of it is true, or whether he was insane. You see, he made you his
heir.”

“Heir? Of what?” Now it was getting interesting.

“His lordship.”

“His what now?!”

Harry hadn’t heard Petunia screeching in quite a while and had forgotten how ear-splitting it
was. It was even worse for Sharpclaw, who actually massaged his ears and threw her a dirty
glare.

“I’m so sorry. I... just… this is something I have to digest.”

“Please refrain from showing your surprise at this volume, Ma’am.”

Petunia ducked her head, cheeks tinged red. “Yes, of course. I apologise.”

“Excuse me…” The goblin looked back at him. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means that, upon the death of Sirius Black and if you are of age, you will inherit the title
of Lord Black, along with the assets and responsibilities this title brings. Until then, you have
limited access to both of those things.”

“What do I have access to then?” Ugh, this was like pulling teeth.

“So glad you asked.” Sharpclaw gave him a grin again. “For one, we are able to create a
signet ring for you, modelled after the template that was submitted for these purposes by the
family ages ago. The costs will be taken from the main Black vault. You also have access to
an heir vault, although in your case it’s the same as the vault your godfather started for you
when he was awarded this responsibility and never had time to put much money into it. The
heir ring, however, grants you some recognition amongst your peers. It also functions as
identification because it cannot be copied by anyone but Gringotts and cannot be removed
from your person without your consent, not even while under duress. By accepting the heir
ring, you also accept the status and responsibilities that come with it If you don't wish to take
up this role yet, you are free to ignore it until a time when you feel prepared to do so.”

Those were all very helpful things and all things he hadn’t known about until Walburga had
mentioned them to him. She would be thrilled. For one moment Harry contemplated telling
Petunia about Grimmauld Place, just to make it easier for him to get there without having to
sneak around. Then he realised two things. One, she would most likely not approve of the
magic he learned there. And two, should she and Walburga get along, now that it was
confirmed his aunt was a squib, they might team up and he would be in big trouble.

“That sounds very useful. I’d like to commission one.”

“Very good!” Sharprock actually clapped his hands in excitement and Harry wondered how
much commission the goblin made from all of this. Judging by the gleam in his eye probably
a lot. It also gave Harry an excuse to come back and he had… things to do.

“Alright. Ms Evans, how is the guardianship document coming along?”

“I, erm, have filled out most of it, but have questions about some of the terms.”

“Understandable. I’ll be glad to be of service.”

While the two adults discussed the terms of his magical guardianship, Harry thought over
what had happened. So far, the day had already been a resounding success. Not only had he
managed to notify the goblins of the Sirius situation, they also seemed to have some doubts
regarding his guilt. And all on their own! In his eyes, that already made them smarter than
most wizards. Thinking of Lockhart, maybe the benchmark wasn’t quite as high as most
wizards wanted to believe either.

The guardianship was another plus. By now, Harry trusted Petunia enough to think she
wanted to do well by him, if only to appease her son or her bad conscience. This and the fact
that she had less knowledge of the magical world would make it easier to get his way if
needed. It also meant she would probably side with him against any random wizards,
especially thinking about her experience with Dumbledore so far. Or Snape. Harry shuddered
at the thought that the sour potions master might have become his magical guardian.

Then there was the fact that Dudley was a squib. With all the subjects the goblin had
mentioned, it seemed very strange that squibs were not allowed to attend Hogwarts. If classes
like Transfiguration, Defence against the Dark Arts and Charms were left out, or maybe
replaced by advanced classes for passive magic, Harry didn’t see why only active magic
users were allowed at the school. Another thing to put on his agenda, probably. He frowned.
It got longer by the day. But anything that kept people with knowledge of the magical world
in the magical world was fine by him.

“So… you’re a lord then.” Dudley’s voice shook him from his plotting.

“… not yet, I guess? Sirius Black is still alive. Well. In prison. But alive. And until he dies,
I’m just his heir. But in a way, I think you’re right?”
Dudley opened his mouth, then closed it. Furrowed his brow, opened it again, but the words
still seemed to be stuck in his throat.

“Oh I know”, Harry tried to help. “It’s so weird.”

“Soooo weird”, his cousin agreed. “Does that mean you’re rich?”

“Again… kinda, I think? I don’t seem to have access to the money right now, but there is
money. So once Sirius dies, or gets out of prison and I ask him to, I guess I’ll have access.
And my parents seem to have left me a nice amount as well.” That reminded him that they
still had to go down to the vaults. He suppressed a smirk at the thought of Petunia riding the
carts. Dudley would love it, though.

“Huh. At least you won’t have to worry about money then.”

And that was that. Dudley turned around to study the battle axes again while Harry was left
blinking in confusion. What had happened to the cousin who threw a tantrum over the
amount of birthday presents he got? He almost missed the fellow, just for old times’ sake. Or,
former times, that was.

“Everything seems to be in order. Now, young Mr Evans-Potter has to visit his trust vault,
and after that you’ll have to exchange some muggle money. I can give you a chart with an
explanation of how the money system works. May I also recommend you open your own
vault at the bank? As a squib, it is your right. And should you start a side business in the
wizarding world, like selling potions, you could transfer your money directly there instead of
paying a conversion fee.”

At the mention of a potion’s business, Petunia perked up. “I remember my sister mentioning
potions quite a bit.” Probably Snape’s influence, Harry figured. Then again, Horace Slughorn
had been rather impressed with Lily on her own merits. “Is it at all like cooking?”

The goblin seemed to think about that for a bit. “You know… actually, it is. The reasoning
behind using certain ingredients is different because magical substances interact differently
with each other than muggle things do, but overall the theory is similar.”

Having Petunia make potions and those readily available could help him a lot. Petunia having
a side income that was not taxable in the muggle world would probably help all of them too,
if he was being honest.

“Alright. Then a vault here would be helpful.” She hesitated. “Can I do that here?”

“But of course! I luckily have most of your information already because you had to fill out
the guardianship papers. If you give me permission, I can copy them over to the new
document for the vault opening. Then it would only be a few additional details and a
signature.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Dudley had stopped listening some time ago, but Harry listened intently. Especially because
he intended to open a new vault at the next opportunity – if at all possible, without his aunt
knowing about it.

Luckily for Dudley, the process was fast and after an opening fee and setting the terms of
service, they were on their way to Harry’s vaults. Dudley’s delight at seeing the mine cart
was hilarious. Petunia’s face even more so. But she swallowed whatever comment had almost
passed her lips and settled into the cart behind Sharpclaw, looking rather uncomfortable.
Dudley, in contrast, was almost bouncing in his seat.

“How fast do these things go?”, he wanted to know.

The goblin grinned. “As fast as you want them to.”

“Dudley, you really shouldn’t have-“

His aunt’s words were ripped away as the cart started to roll, but picked up speed almost
immediately. It may have been his imagination, but Harry felt like it did go faster than usual.
By the time they reached vault 687, Harry was almost laughing his ass off, Petunia was
chalk-white, though she grew alarmingly more green by the second and Dudley was grinning
like a lunatic.

“That.” He declared. “Was the most awesome thing ever. And Harry – I swear there was fire
there. Do you have dragons here?” He bounced in the seat.

Sharpclaw showed his teeth. “We definitely do, young man.”

“Wicked.”

The goblin motioned for them to exit, although it took Petunia a few tries to do so, and when
she did, she stood rather shakily on her legs. After confirming his identity, Sharpclaw had
given Harry a new key to his vault, while invalidating all others that may be in circulation.
When watching his vault open, Harry idly wondered whether anyone would still bother
giving the original key to him.

“Woah.”

Although he didn’t voice it, Harry shared his cousin’s wonder. He had a memory of his vault,
but seeing the mountains of gold in person left him with a sense of wonder. For someone
who, just over a year ago, had snuck around the house stealing money every week, this was
like a fever dream. Even his aunt seemed to have forgotten how to be sick and looked
awestruck instead.

“I never knew Lily earned that much money”, she muttered. “Vernon would’ve had a
conniption.” That thought seemed to cheer her up quite a bit.

“It was actually a combined effort by Mr and Mrs Potter. Mr Potter’s ancestors had a very
successful potion’s business. They invested their money well and your sister created a few
spells and sold it for quite a sum. Although both Mr and Mrs Potter were on their way to
attaining a mastery in their chosen subjects and would’ve gotten well-paying jobs, if it hadn’t
been for their untimely demise, they could have lived off the inheritance for most of their
life.”

That just seemed… indecent. Although Harry had a feeling if he saw the Black vaults, he’d
probably faint. The goblin seemed to think he needed Sirius to access it, but Walburga had a
plan, which would be implemented as soon as he had his ring.

“How much do you think I need? And what are the values of the coins again?”, he asked the
goblin.

While he had learned everything about the money system beforehand, it was difficult to
remember, so for Dudley’s sake, he asked again.

“Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle”, the goblin said.
Dudley started mouthing the words, a furrow appearing on his forehead. Harry just nodded
instead. “And I think you’ll be set if you take a few hundred Galleons, just in case you see
anything that catches your eye.”

Harry was very sure that many things would catch his eye, but that, unless they were books,
he would stay away from them for now until he managed a return visit on his own.

Harry filled his ever-faithful backpack with money – even more than the goblin had
suggested – and got another laugh when Dudley sprinted to the cart, while Petunia eyed it
warily, then sat down sighing. She seemed slightly more put together and less green when
they exited the cart on the ground level than on the way down.

Sharpclaw actually waved at them merrily, resulting in a few goblin tellers gaping at the little
group, then went back towards the offices. Harry had a feeling assigning them this specific
goblin had been a bit of an inside joke that had backfired badly. Petunia used the opportunity
to walk up to a free teller and change some muggle money into galleons without having the
goblin talk back to her. When leaving, she straightened her back and led the two children
outside with confident strides.

“That. Was cool”, Dudley summed up the experience.

“Yes, definitely.”

“They even had torches! And mine shafts! And dragons! Mum, I want to go back and see a
dragon.”

Petunia just sighed and then decided that the best way to distract her son from battle axes and
dragons was to let him get lost in the shops. To her credit, it worked gloriously. Other than
Hagrid, she had organisation skills and led them to the trunk shop first. While Dudley was
unknowingly distracting his mother by trying to talk her into getting him a trunk made from
dragon hide, Harry managed to get a trunk with three changeable, expanded compartments,
one secret compartment he could ward and password-protect on his own, as well as in-built
feather-light and shrinking charms. It cost him quite a bit, but looking back at what his trunk
had been through the first time, he figured it was worth it.
From the outside it looked like a normal school trunk, so his relatives were non-the-wiser –
although Dudley asked why it had to be a trunk and didn’t they sell suitcases at all? The
confused expression on the clerk’s face almost made Harry feel sorry for the man.

Next up was Madam Malkin’s. As they were there about a week earlier this time, there was
no Draco Malfoy waiting for him. Harry was surprised to be both relieved and disappointed.
He did, however strike up a friendly conversation with Madam Malkin that resulted in him
buying a whole wizarding wardrobe, which had never happened before, but was, in his
opinion, long overdue. Even Dudley insisted on getting a few robes because he deemed them
“wicked” and he managed to talk Aunt Petunia into an elegant wine red one, reminding her
that she was Harry’s magical guardian now and may have to appear on his behalf in the
wizarding world, and didn’t she want to make a good impression on people? Harry had to
admit that he may have underestimated his cousin’s ability of manipulation and suddenly
wondered whether he wasn’t a shoe-in for Slytherin as well.

As they bought more than just the usual school robes, the alterations would take an hour, so
they went to some other shops. Harry insisted on getting an animal first. He he’d been to
Diagon Alley later the first time, but he couldn’t help but hope that Hedwig was already here.

Dudley cooed at the kneazles, then the owls, then almost gave the shop owner a heart attack
when he asked Harry what the snakes were saying. Harry decided not to show his talent just
yet and remained tight-lipped, much to his cousin’s frustration.

It was easy to ignore, though, because there, at the very back of the rows of owls, Harry saw
a flash of white feathers. His heart was beating furiously and his hands were almost as sweaty
as when he picked up his Hogwarts letter. Because there, looking at him with her head turned
to the side, was a very familiar-looking snowy owl.

He had remembered what had happened to her some time ago, but seeing her sitting there
made his chest tighten and somewhere in his mind he saw the green light hit her again. (Not
this time. He promised.)

“Hello girl”, he whispered softly, carefully holding out a shaking hand to her.

“Be careful with that one! She has the tendency to bite – oh.”

Harry had managed to get his hand towards her, close enough to be able to scratch her
favourite spot just below her neck. The owl closed her eyes in bliss, making a clacking sound
with her beak. He should have known Hagrid had gotten him the most vicious owl, but in this
case he’d probably been right about her being misunderstood.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?”

The shop clerk seemed to be officially weirded out now because he didn’t even do the usual
spiel to try and sell him all the extra owl supplies. He also didn’t bat an eyelash when Dudley
announced that he and Petunia also needed an owl because they were now part of the magical
world too and he wanted to be able to stay in contact with Harry without him writing first.
Again, she yielded to his logic and Harry found himself impressed.
Dudley decided to get an imposing-looking eagle owl with almost black feathers that had a
look on its face that suggested it knew exactly how much better than everyone else it was.
Harry thought it looked hilariously like Draco Malfoy and nicknamed it Draco in his mind.
That is, it was in his mind until he accidentally said it out loud, Dudley decided to us it as
inspiration and named the owl Smaug.

Leaving the pet shop, Harry stowed the owl supplies in his new trunk, while he gave
Petunia’s answer to the Hogwarts letter to Hedwig. They sent Smaug off to Privet Drive.
Both Dudley and Petunia seemed very impressed when the owl just blinked at them and flew
off, knowing exactly where it was going.

In preparation for this, Harry had told Mehen in so many words to absolutely not leave his
room today under any circumstances, just in case he sent Hedwig home and she decided the
snake was a snack.

Next up were potion supplies. Harry got what was on the list, including the best dragon hide
gloves he could find, which meant they would resist both potion ingredients and unruly
plants. That he was thinking of a certain devil’s snare was left unmentioned. He also got a
lower year’s experimental potion kit and managed to, quite easily, talk both Dudley and
Petunia into getting one as well. They seemed too intrigued to argue anyway.

The books were next, although Harry quickly left the set of first-year books at the front desk
and then wandered off to collect more interesting titles for his self-study. Walburga had made
sure to tell him which areas should have some recent additions he had to read to be up-to-date
and also mentioned authors that he should keep an eye out for. Harry also sneakily added a
few third year and above books on ancient runes and arithmancy. He also got some for his
relatives.

Petunia, meanwhile, had made good of Sharpclaw’s reading list suggestion and had a
towering stack of books herself, which was only stopped from hitting a passing witch over
the head by the quick wand work of the shop keeper. After that, he was keeping an especially
close eye on her, which was just as well for Harry because he barely glanced at what the
soon-to-be-11-year-old was buying – which was probably for the best, to be honest.

Dudley also found some books, most notably on dragons, goblins, werewolves and vampires,
as well as a book about quidditch, which at least saved Harry the trouble of trying to
introduce the sport somehow.

The shop right next door sold parchment – “really, do they have to use dead animals all of the
time” Petunia sniffed “why isn’t paper good enough” – feathers and ink. Dudley ooh-ed over
the feathers until he tried to write with a sample feather and realised the best he managed to
do was a splotchy scrawl. After that he just gave Harry a pitying look and announced he
preferred fountain pens. Harry secretly agreed and decided to just bring one to Hogwarts,
regardless of the backlash.

That just left…

“It’s so cool that you get a wand. You really think I can’t have one?”, Dudley asked.
Harry just shook his head. “Sorry, Dudley. I think they can only be used for active magic, so
it would do as much for you as a stick.” He thought for a moment. “But maybe we can ask
the shop owner where we can get one of the glowing stones. That seemed to sense your latent
magic somehow, so you could at least make that glow.”

That seemed to cheer up his cousin again. Petunia watched them both with an expression that
seemed both fond and somehow bewildered and at the same time sad. This was, thought
Harry, what Lily’s and her relationship should have been like when she first entered the
magical world.

The wand shop looked as dingy and dusty as he had seen in his memories. Just one wand was
lying in the window on a pillow and Harry wondered if Ollivander had ever given it to
someone to try, or whether it was just a prop.

Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C., the sign above it announced which made Dudley ask
out loud whether that just meant the family, or if wizards actually grew that old and made
Harry wonder about Nicolas Flamel and the stone. He had half a mind to just steal it from
Hagrid the day he took it from Gringotts. But that would be very risky and would leave him
with the question of where to hide it. He could also send it back to Nicolas Flamel, but with
what explanation or excuse, he had no idea. So he just shelved the whole idea and pushed it
to the back of his mind instead.

The tinkling of the shop bell tore him out of that train of thought and the brushing of
someone’s legilimency against his brain made him instantly shake off any left-over
thoughtfulness and catapulted him directly into alertness, making him slam his flimsy walls
down.

“Curious. Very curious.”

Dudley jumped and squeaked a bit when the old wizard appeared seemingly out of nowhere,
while Harry was busy glaring at him. Ollivander didn’t seem too concerned with this, though,
instead just watching him with his big pale eyes that suddenly reminded Harry of the moon.
He could still feel silky-smooth silver tendrils gliding around his mind, as if caressing it
lovingly, but still asking to gain entry instead of forcing it.

“Very curious indeed.”

“Good afternoon”, Harry said instead of gracing that with an answer.

“Good afternoon to you too. Who might you be?”

“I’m Harry Evans-Potter.”

There was a spark of recognition in the man’s eyes, then they drifted towards his aunt and
cousin. Harry belatedly realised that they had no defense against a legilimens, then started to
desperately try to remember whether they knew anything he was afraid of getting out. Maybe
that he could talk to snakes from Dudley. Maybe that he was heir Black. Though he had a
feeling Ollivander wouldn’t tell anyone unless under duress, the thought was still an
uncomfortable one.
“Ah yes. Mr and Miss Evans. I’m afraid I don’t have wands for you, though should you have
any questions about the procedure, feel free to ask.”

Ollivander’s gaze drifted back to him and Harry noticed that the pressure on his mind neither
lessened nor got worse at any time. It was almost like… oh. That actually explained a lot,
including why the wand maker was so weird.

“You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her
first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm
work.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany
wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I
say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” His
eyes drifted to Harry’s chest. “But you know that, of course.” A hand reached out and Harry
only had the wherewithal to draw away when the fingertips were already touching the leather
band of his focus crystal.

Harry tried to glare at him, but thought his gaze might be more curious than angry. Mr
Ollivander certainly didn’t seem frightened.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that gave you that scar,” he said, pointing to where the hat
was still hiding the lightning bolt. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very
powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the
world to do...”

Mr Ollivander paused, then leaned forward a bit. At first Harry figured he would look at the
scar again. But instead the wand maker’s eyes fixed on the leather band around his neck.

“I think, Mr Evans-Potter, that you have a rare gift as well. If you ever decide to look into
becoming a wand maker – feel free to contact me.”

Well. That was certainly unexpected.

“Until then, we can get you one of my creations to accompany you on your journey. I think
you will be a very interesting customer. Shall we?”

He turned around on the sport and vanished into the stacks of boxes. Harry glanced at Dudley
and saw his cousin looking decidedly unnerved by the whole thing. Petunia’s hands twitched,
as if she had half a mind to drag them out of the store and back into a world where people
made sense.

“Well, now.” He came back. “Let’s see.”

Mr Ollivander pulled the tape measure with silver markings out and held it up. “Which is
your wand arm?”

“Uuuh… I’m naturally right-handed, but I also use my left hand quite a bit”, he admitted. His
training with the twig had paid off and he could do smooth wand movements with both hands
now.
“Then hold out both arms and we’ll see what happens.”

The measuring took longer this time, of course. From shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow,
shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, around his head. Dudley giggled when Harry was being
measured between his nostrils.

“Which core do you think might be suited for you?”

This whole conversation went absolutely against anything he remembered. But Harry
swallowed and thought about the question. There was always a chance his old wand would
reject him this time. He was, after all, a very different person in a vastly different situation.
Then again, some things never seemed to change and he found himself hoping this would be
one of them.

“Er… phoenix feather might work, I guess?”

Ollivander hummed and nodded his head. “An interesting suggestion. You might just be
correct. Though I believe dragon heartstring could prove fitting as well.”

The tape measure rolled itself up and zoomed back into the man’s pocket while he was
already walking through the shelves, pulling out boxes here and there.

“Alright. Try this one. Redwood and phoenix feather, ten inches. Very flexible. Just give it a
wave and we’ll go from there.”

As soon as Harry touched the wood he felt his magic pull away, so he wasn’t very surprised
when he waved the wand and absolutely nothing happened. Dudley looked disappointed.

“Maple and Welsh Green heartstring. Seven inches. Quite whippy.”

Harry waved it, but could still feel his magic trapped in his hand. He shook his head and put
the wand back down. He distinctly remembered Ollivander snatching wands out of his hand
left and right the last time.

“Can I…?” He gestured towards the pile of wands lying on the table.

As if that’s what the wand maker had been waiting for, he just nodded and made a “go ahead”
motion towards the table.

Harry hesitatingly stepped forward and looked at the small mountain of boxes. There were
definitely fewer than last time, but he couldn’t discern the box for the holly and phoenix
feather wand. He decided to try something else instead. Just like when he had first started
practicing his magic, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the flow of warmth inside of
him.

It had become more like a river than the trickling stream it had been, although he felt it would
probably grow greater still. It was also rushing to his hands as if eager to do his bidding. So,
theoretically, if he let it hover just over his fingers and got close enough to a wand…
He lowered his hand until he could feel the surface of the first box. When his magic didn’t
react, he moved on. And on. And on. There was a slight pull sometimes, but usually when he
lingered, his magic seemed to lose interest and remained waiting, dormant. He almost
thought the wand wasn’t there by the time he had reached the end of the table, when he felt a
pull.

Harry’s eyes snapped open while he found his hand, almost of its own accord, wrapped
around a dark, slightly worn-looking box. He glanced at Ollivander, but the man was just
watching him with wide, unreadable eyes again. Harry shrugged and opened the box.

The breath caught in his throat as he saw the familiar form of a wand he had carried for the
whole of a different lifetime. When he took it, the warmth started rushing through his fingers
even before he made full contact with the wood and when he swished the wand, a shower of
sparks and musical notes emanated from it that reminded him of a phoenix reborn. Dudley
made an awed sound and even Petunia let out a little gasp.

Ollivander just watched, silently. “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.
And may I just say that was very well done. Very well done indeed.”

He paused for a moment and Harry knew exactly what was coming. “But how very curious.
Such a curious customer.”

“What is it now”, groaned Dudley.

“The phoenix who gave the feather that is the core of your wand gave one other feather. Just
one. And it so happens that this feather is in the wand of the wizard who gave you that scar.
The brother to yours. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew.”

Harry shuddered, although he already knew. He knew! Why did this still faze him.

“But it seems I was right. We can expect great things from you, Mr Evans-Potter. After all,
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, but great. I hope I will not regret
giving out this wand.”

Harry felt his fingers curl protectively around the wood and just caught the wry smile on the
wand-makers face. But instead of commenting on it, Ollivander just announced the wand
would be 5 galleons, 7 if he wanted a wand holster for his wrist included. Harry decided that
sounded like a splendid idea, remembering how dangerous keeping a wand in his back pocket
would be and not fancying a blown-off butt cheek. He still found himself releasing a small
sigh of relief when they turned to go.

“Oh, and Mr Evans-Potter.”

He looked back one last time, seeing Mr Ollivander standing next to his till, one half of his
face wreathed in shadow, the other in light.

“You will find that a few people have the ability to cast with both hands. And fewer people
still will need a second wand for their non-dominant hand.” Harry stared for a moment.
 Ollivander stared back. Then the wandmaker nodded once and disappeared into the back of
the shop.

When he felt the sunlight on his face, Harry took a deep breath. It felt like coming up for air
after staying at the bottom of a pool for too long.

“That man was very very weird”, Dudley decided.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for all the lovely comments! I'm not sure I got so many before, ever. I'm so
happy you like this story. :)

I also thought about giving Dudley magic because he grew on me, but it somehow didn't
fit this story. In this version, he is a squib. I don't think he's one in canon, as he can't
even see dementors (and Mrs Figg can. Well, maybe). So - first big difference from
canon, possibly? Not that anyone ever checked.
 Behold the floating biscuits
Chapter Summary

A long overdue visit.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hedwig came back with a response letter from McGonagall a day later. It included an
apology for not sending a teacher immediately, as they had expected them all to be
knowledgeable enough about the magical world – Petunia scoffed at that – a ticket for
platform 9 ¾ with an explanation of how to get on and a small golden key that Harry decided
to return to the goblins. It wouldn’t work anymore anyway.

What also arrived with the letter was a request for her to come and visit. Harry wasn’t sure
how to feel about that, but left it all to his aunt. After all, she was the one who’d have the
government sicced on her if Harry suddenly turned up missing. In a way this was turning out
to be very limiting. What made him a little bit mad about it all was that last time things had
been so much worse and somehow the only one who had ever met the Dursleys had been
Hagrid – and while he loved Hagrid, the half-giant definitely wasn’t one to pick up on social
cues at the best of times and way too far into Dumbledore’s pocket to do anything about it
even if he did.

Dudley insisted on sending Smaug with the answering letter while Hedwig got to know the
surrounding area. Hedwig had also gotten to know a certain suddenly rather timid snake.

When the owl had returned from Hogwarts, Harry had been in his room and Hedwig had
already been so attuned to him that she had found his window immediately. That meant a
quick hiss to Mehen to stay under the blanket for now while Harry unlatched the window and
let in the snowy owl. It still hurt a bit to see her because, like everyone else, she looked at
him like he was someone new while Harry felt he had known her for years and had grieved
her almost as long.

“Hi, girl.” His voice was immediately soft and she cooed slightly when he rubbed the
feathers on the top of her head. “You’ve done a great first job. I can already tell you’re the
best owl ever.” That made her preen even more and Harry allowed himself a small smile.

There was an owl cage set up in the room again – he had always thought it looked empty
without it – although it was a much more elaborate one than last time. It had its own stand,
was sturdy and big and had some nice detailing on the metal. He had forgone the travel cage
this time, as 1. It reminded him of the last time when Hedwig had been locked in it during the
summer and 2. If he travelled anywhere, he’d be sure to send her ahead with a letter anyway.
Hedwig, at least, seemed to like it, as she immediately sat on the bar and sipped from the
water provided. Harry then fed her some owl treats by hand.

“Alright. You know my cousin Dudley also got an owl today. It’s the big black one named
Smaug. But what you don’t know and what nobody else in this house knows is that I have
another familiar living with me.”

He didn’t know whether Hedwig understood him, but from the glare he received he’d hazard
a guess that the answer was absolutely yes.

“His name is Mehen and I’ve had him for over a year by now. He’s a bit spooked by you at
the moment because… well… he’s a snake.” The owl tilted her head. “I’d like it very much if
you’d leave him alone and don’t attack him and in turn I promise that he will not attack you.
You’re theoretically both too big to eat each other anyway, but I thought it would be better to
set some ground rules.”

He was rambling. At an owl. Sometimes he didn’t know what his life had become.

“I’m going to introduce you now.”

Harry grabbed the crystal around his neck a bit tighter, just in case. He might be able to use
his wand until he’d arrived at Hogwarts, though Walburga hadn’t been too clear on it, so he
decided not to. Any accidental magic would at least still be deemed accidental until he started
and he’d rather introduce his two familiars now than later.

:Can I come out?:, came a hesitant voice from under the covers.

:Yes, I told her to leave you alone. And the same goes for you, obviously. I know birds
belong to your prey animals and even though Hedwig is bigger than what you could swallow,
I’m pretty sure your venom would kill her.:

:Alright then. But if she attacks me, all bets are off.:

Harry rolled his eyes and gripped his necklace more tightly.

The blanket on his bed began to move in waves as Mehen slithered out from underneath it.
He had grown even more during the last few months, shedding at least once every four
weeks, if not two. Harry had tried to look up the growth rate of snakes in the school library,
but hadn’t been very successful. When at the zoo, he had tried to find a zoo keeper at the
reptile enclosure, but that had been a bust too. For now, he figured he’d notice if something
turned out to be wrong and he’d let sleeping snakes lie.

A bright green head peeked out from the side of the bed. Hedwig still had her head tilted,
amber eyes focused on the snake that slowly wound itself up on the bed. Harry could see how
tightly he was coiled.

:I’m not sure I like this.: Mehen’s throat was puffing up, though Harry could see he tried to
keep it down. He looked not dissimilar to a balloon animal if Harry was being honest.
Hedwig looked decidedly unimpressed as well.
Mehen flinched when the owl flapped her wings a few times and landed on the bed. She
stopped down a bit until she was looking the snake in the eye.

:Now I’m very sure I don’t like this.:

Hedwig fluffed up her feathers, gave a decisive hoot, then flew back to her perch and started
preening her plumage.

“Well that was… luckily very anticlimactic.”

With that sorted, Harry could get back to panicking about McGonagall’s impending visit in
peace. If peace included helping his aunt and Dudley clean the house from top to bottom to
make a good first impression, that was.

Petunia had just put a pitcher of water on the dining room table along with a plate of
shortbread biscuits when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!”, Dudley shouted and zoomed towards the door.

He was much more cowed when he returned with their guest in tow. It seemed her decades as
a stern-faced teacher worked on his cousin as much as any other 11-year-old. Professor
McGonagall stood tall, black hair pulled into a tight bun, dressed in an emerald green dress
that was slightly out of fashion, but not obviously so. The tartan bag was definitely out of
fashion, but somehow suited her just fine. All Harry could think was how young she looked.

“Mrs… Evans?”

There was a slight catch in her voice at the name that Petunia ignored. “Yes, that’s me. You
are Deputy Headmistress McGonagall then? Welcome. Feel free to sit down.”

The witch looked around the room and apparently decided the sofa was the perfect place for
her. Dudley may have been intimidated, but it didn’t seem to be enough to prevent him from
sitting right next to her. Harry smothered a grin and chose one of the armchairs while his aunt
chose its twin on the opposite side.

His cousin had already started devouring the books he had bought, as well as Harry’s school
books, which found Harry struggling to keep up, but at the same time thankful for the
motivation. History of Magic seemed to be Dudley’s instant favourite. The explanation of
“this is like The Hobbit – but real!” left Harry wondering just how awful Binns was as a
teacher that this comparison had never occurred to him. Knowing there was an actual teacher
from the school he was fascinated by sitting right next to him made his cousin’s day.

“There’s some water and biscuits and if you want to, I can put on some tea as well”, his aunt
offered. Usually, she put on the tea before the guests arrived, which already told Harry how
she felt about his new (old) professor.

“Thank you, water is fine for now. Depending on how long this conversation will take, we
can come back to the tea later.” McGonagall’s slight smile seemed to reassure Petunia.
“You’ll have to excuse me, but why exactly have you asked that teachers be interrogated by
healthcare professionals and child protection service people regarding your nephew? That
is… highly unusual, to say the least.”

Harry found that unlikely, if he was being honest. There must have been muggleborn students
whose families treated them badly for having magic. From what he had experienced, it would
be more than one too. The deputy headmistress never having come across a case like this
seemed alarming. Or maybe it was because he was Harry Potter that made it so unlikely?

“Um, yes. I’m sorry to say that there was an… incident with my ex-husband and Harry that
ended with my nephew in the hospital and me kicking out Vernon.”

McGonagall’s eyes had gone a shade darker than usual, Harry noted.

“I have since divorced him and gotten sole custody of both children just a few weeks ago. We
also changed our names-“

“All?”, the professor interrupted.

“Yes.”

When Harry spoke, her head whipped around to him and he automatically raised his
occlumency shields. He felt no intrusion, though. Instead, McGonagall’s eyes seemed to get a
bit misty when they met his.

“My last name is Evans-Potter now. It felt like a good balance between honouring my birth
parents as well as the family I live with now.”

“A very logical thought process.” The professor nodded, cleared her throat and looked away.
“And may I also commend you on putting your children first, Ms Evans. That requires a
completely different kind of bravery than what most people would think of when hearing the
word.”

“Thank you”, Petunia whispered.

Dudley, of course, saved the day. “Are you really a witch?”, he asked, wide-eyed.

Some of the sparkle returned to the witch’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Can you show me some magic like Harry does?”

Her eyes drifted back to him again. “He shows you magic?”

“He’s still allowed to do it, right? I mean, school hasn’t started yet!”, Dudley was fast to ask.
“I heard he’s not allowed to do any after starting at Hogwarts.”

She put on a stern face. “I can understand the urge, but you really shouldn’t be using your
wand before school. That can be dangerous without proper instruction.”
“Oh, I haven’t touched my wand since I got it at Ollivander’s.” Harry kept back a smirk
while he watched her try to figure that one out.

“Then…?”

“Oh, he’s been doing magic for years. Of course I didn’t know what it was until he showed
me. And…” Dudley blushed. “I kept asking him to levitate all those cuddly toys and books
and make the lights, so it’s all my fault! Don’t be mad at him!”

The witch seemed a bit stunned for a moment. “You’ve been doing wandless magic?”

“If that’s what it’s called. I’m not sure yet whether it’ll be easier with a wand.”

“Can you show me?”, she burst out and leaned forwards on the sofa.

Harry shrugged, on the inside almost cackling. At least this would establish him as a bit of a
prodigy. Explaining how he’d gotten so good at magic without tutelage might be difficult
otherwise. Which was also why he wasn’t mad at Dudley for snitching.

“Sure.” He shrugged, then scooted forward on the armchair a bit. A glance at the table
showed his choice of floatable things was limited. The question now was how much he was
going to show off. Considering it was the first time he’d done any deliberate magic in front of
his aunt, maybe he should tone it down a bit.

The crystal was hidden under his clothes and, by design, had contact with his skin.
Channelling without his hand on it was a bit more difficult, but nothing Walburga hadn’t
drilled into him endlessly. It took some concentration and a slightly larger amount of magic,
but Harry managed to make four cookies rise from the plate and float towards each person in
the room.

Dudley cheered and eagerly took his from the air, indicating that this might be a normal
occurrence. The two adults seemed to be a bit more stunned at the display, but plucked their
cookies from the grasp of Harry’s magic soon enough. Petunia frowned at hers before putting
it in her mouth, but Harry was impressed by her nonchalance nonetheless. McGonagall stared
at hers longer.

“That’s very impressive, Harry”, she finally got out.

He just shrugged. “It’s nothing big. Just lights and making things fly. It was much more
impressive when I managed to make that jumper shrink that Aunt Petunia tried to put on me.”

“Or”, interrupted Dudley “that time you ended up on the school roof.”

“Yeah, that one was not very fun. I didn’t know about being magic back then and had a really
hard time explaining that to the teachers. And Vernon didn’t let me leave my cupb… room”
he corrected after one glance at Petunia “for weeks.”

The professor’s eyebrows rose, but she made no comment otherwise. “I’m sorry to inform
you that those kinds of magic will also not be permitted anymore, now that you’ll be starting
to study at Hogwarts.”
“But that’s not fair!” The complaint, funny enough, came from Dudley. “And it makes no
sense either. Why is he allowed to do magic as a child when he doesn’t even know what he’s
doing and only has control over a few things, but not when he’s actually learning about it!”

“That’s exactly…”

“And what if he’s in danger or I’m in danger? Can he go to jail when he’s just helping by
using magic?”

“There are ways…”

“And how is he supposed to practice magic over the summer break? I can practice maths just
fine, but if he’s not even allowed to use his wand…”

Harry hid his amused smirk behind his glass of water and kept from commenting on the
whole thing by eating his shortbread. McGonagall seemed slightly overwhelmed and had
started looking rather defensive.

“Mr Evans!”, she finally interrupted him and Dudley’s mouth snapped shut. “It is precisely
because they are learning how to do more complicated and dangerous magic that they are not
allowed to use it at home during the summer, as they are unsupervised.”

Dudley opened his mouth.

“And”, she continued “should he or you ever be in danger, Harry can use magic to defend
himself and you. He will face consequences for these actions, but with a good enough reason,
they won’t be dire.” This time she continued pretty much without taking a breath. “And over
the summer there are enough theoretical things to revise or study for that practical magic isn’t
necessary. Besides, it is common knowledge that giving a child’s magical core a chance to
recharge during the summer is beneficial to their overall health and magic.”

There was a short break. Then “what’s a magical core?”

“It’s like a deep well inside your body that holds your magic. For some people it is bigger, for
some smaller, although you can train it a bit, of course. When you use a lot of magic, like
during school and especially during the exams, it can make you feel exhausted and make
your spells weaker because you have drained your core.”

“Oh. So I probably don’t have one.”

“As a muggle, you don’t.”

“But he’s not a muggle!”, Harry complained.

“I’m sorry, but if he hasn’t received a Hogwarts letter, your cousin doesn’t have magic.” She
sounded truly apologetic, but that just made Harry madder.

“I know he’s not a wizard, but that doesn’t make him a muggle!”

“…pardon?”
“He’s a squib! My aunt too. We checked. I’m also confused why squibs can’t go to
Hogwarts.” McGonagall’s opened her mouth slightly, but Harry decided to channel his inner
Dudley and speak right over her. “I know he can’t do magic, but he could still do potions.
And herbology. Ancient runes. Care of magical creatures. Arithmancy! Astronomy! Some
parts of divination. Pretty much all but three classes and that’s just rude.” He huffed, blowing
some strands of hair off his face, which drew the professor’s eyes to his scar and made him
frown even more.

“That is… you have a very strong opinion on this.” Harry tried to hear whether she sounded
impressed, agreeable, or annoyed, but couldn’t quite tell.

“Of course I do! That’s my family we’re talking about.”

Apparently confusion was the most prevalent emotion, as the teacher didn’t directly answer
the outburst and instead continued to sip water and nibble on her shortbread. Harry was very
much not impressed.

“Alright then, is there anything I need to know before I go to Hogwarts? And what do we tell
the child service people?”

That at least started up a conversation again. Apparently, McGonagall had nothing else to add
to the before-Hogwarts bit, but quickly came up with a solution to the CPS issue which
included a mixture of dressing up as muggles, presenting fake school reports, and memory
charms. The memory charms seemed to make Petunia very uncomfortable and Harry feel
very bad.

Even though there were no more magic tricks and the two women were mostly planning,
Dudley still seemed fascinated by McGonagall. Harry tried to imagine his cousin’s face if he
ever saw the professor turn into her cat form and had to smile at the image. He doubted she
would do it as a favour, but maybe Harry would manage to become an animagus and be able
to show his cousin at some point.

To be honest, Harry was kind of let down by the whole visit. He’d thought it would be
more… interesting. At least it took a funny turn at the very end when McGonagall asked if
Harry already knew about the house system. It was obvious by the glint in her eyes that she
thought he’d be in Gryffindor and Harry was about to give an evasive answer – when Dudley
proudly announced Harry would for sure be in Slytherin and McGonagall promptly half
swallowed, half spit out her mouthful of tea.

The following minutes were filled with a chaotic scramble for kitchen towels, lots of
coughing on McGonagall’s part and Dudley wondering what the deal with Slytherin was
anyway. Watching the teacher stumble over an explanation for her bias was almost as
hilarious as her reaction to Harry as a possible Slytherin.

By the end, he still had trouble fitting the image he had of Professor McGonagall from the
memories together with the impression she had made this afternoon (especially because he
had never seen the teacher so undignified). As with everyone else, Harry decided to leave the
memories in the past and judge her on this version alone. That didn’t help much, to be honest,
but made him feel a bit better.
 At least Dudley was ecstatic because he had talked to a real-life witch, even if she had
spewed tea all over the coffee table.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter and the next were, for some reason, very difficult to write. I even thought
about leaving this one out completely and cutting my losses, but decided to post it
anyway because I kind of like the Dudley-McGonagall interaction. Something about it is
still bothering me, though.

Anyway - getting closer to Hogwarts!

 Adding Shadows
Chapter Summary

Adulting is hard.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It wasn’t the first time Harry wasn’t exactly keen on celebrating his birthday. It was, however,
the first time that Petunia of all people insisted. They had a party in the garden that included
some of his classmates and most of the taekwondo team, an enormous cake and snacks, and
playing games until the evening. It was kind of nice to just hang out with his friends from
school and be a normal kid. Even the nervous energy he’d continuously felt for a week was
missing.

By the time they went to bed, Dudley was too far into a sugar coma to demand magic, so
Harry had the whole night to look through his Hogwarts books, the Black library books and
make plans. Because he had loads.

Part one was to somehow convince Petunia and Dudley that he had been invited to the house
of a taekwondo friend that Saturday and subtly putting it into their minds not to call them, or
ever refer to the supposed visit again. Part two was stuffing some wizard robes into his
backpack and calling the knight bus – he figured now that he was officially introduced to the
wizarding world, nobody would bat an eye. He was still in his muggle clothes while
boarding, which included the hat from before which he had pulled deep into his face. Nobody
even blinked when he started to change into the robe while trying to desperately hold on for
dear life. It didn’t exactly help that Mehen had insisted on coming with him this time and
kept squeezing his arms in reproach whenever Harry was thrown against a seat.

The best thing Harry could say about the journey was that it was shorter than it would have
been with muggle transport. Everything else was better left unsaid.

Before entering the Leaky Cauldron, Harry adjusted the hat once more – it didn’t exactly fit
the rest of his outfit, but he decided that couldn’t be helped – and entered the wizarding world
alone for the first time.

He did not stray. He did not dawdle. He did not become distracted by the quidditch supplies
and the bookstore. Instead, his steps took him straight to Gringotts and to the nearest desk
with a free teller that he could find.

The goblin looked at him, sneered a bit, stared, and continued whatever he had been doing.
As that was pretty much what Harry had expected, he pushed down his annoyance and
instead settled in to wait. It seemed to have worked for Petunia. After twenty seconds, the
goblin looked up again, blinking a bit when he found Harry still there, but bent back to his
task. After about a minute, he gave a deep sigh.

“Name and matter you wish to discuss?”

“Harry Evans-Potter, here to pick up his heir ring.” He tried to sound firm and unflustered
and was slightly proud that he pulled it off.

The goblin’s eyebrows rose a bit. Then he turned around to call for one of the attendants.
“Please lead Mr. Evans-Potter to Sharpclaw’s office.”

The goblin bowed, then snapped at Harry to follow. He quickly scanned the crowd to make
sure there was no one who would recognise him, but nobody stood out.

Sharpclaw gave him a wicked smile as soon as the door closed and motioned to one of the
seats. He seemed to be the go-to goblin for Harry Potter matters now and Harry found he
didn’t mind it in the least. “Alone today, then?”

“Yes. As much as I like my family, they can be a bit overbearing at times. And there are some
matters which are a bit… delicate.”

Instead of being offended, especially seeing how well he had gotten on with Petunia the last
time, the goblin just nodded. “Very well then. How about we settle the matter of the heir ring
first?”

Harry automatically sat a bit straighter when Sharpclaw opened his drawer and pulled out a
small box. It was a black so deep it seemed to suck in the light of the room; Harry wasn’t
even sure what material it was, as there was no texture to be seen. The goblin pushed it to the
very edge of the table, then leaned back, watching.

Swallowing once, Harry reached for the box. When his fingertips made contact, there was a
small jolt of magic and it snapped open.

“Huh.”

“What is it, Mr Sharpclaw?”

There was a small smile at the “Mr” in front of his name, but the frown returned immediately.
“It’s just that the ring seems very eager to get to know you, Mr Evans-Potter. And as
interesting as you’ve been so far, I didn’t think the Black family magic would accept you so
readily. It’s… odd.”

Sharpclaw seemed even more surprised when that elicited an almost fond smile from Harry,
then his eyes went as wide as saucers and latched onto his black wristband when Harry’s
sleeve deliberately slipped to reveal the Black heirloom as he picked up the box.

“I can assure you, the next few years with me will be very odd and very interesting.”

“I can see that”, the goblin said slowly, eyes still on his wrist. “If I may ask – where did you
get this? There are no members of the Black family alive who could bestow a gift like this.
They either have no access to any family vaults or would be… disinclined to give it to you of
all people.”

Thinking about how Narcissa Malfoy was probably the only person alive who even had
access to a vault, Harry had to agree. “You may ask, but until there is some more trust
between us, I’ll have to decline to answer.”

There. Walburga would be so proud of that one. Instead of being offended, Sharpclaw just
nodded and leaned back, now an unholy glint in his eyes. Harry, too, declared the matter
closed and instead focused back on the ring.

It was lying on deep blue velvet, sparkling in the light. The band was made of gold and
slightly broader than his personal preference. It consisted of vines, winding around each
other, thickening towards the middle where they were framing the golden disk that had the
inverted coat of arms of House Black greeting him. Three familiar ravens, a hand raising a
wand high against a background of stars, a skull throning over it all, as well as more vines. It,
too, was gold. There were some words engraved inside of the ring and when Harry leaned
over to read them, he snorted. Toujours Pur. Of course.

When Harry carefully picked it up, there was something like a wisp of magic winding around
his finger, probing, testing. He frowned, then shrugged and sent a tendril of his own magic in
answer. There was a slight pause, then the magic receded into the ring. He waited a bit, but
when nothing happened, Harry put the ring onto the pinkie of his left hand. Exactly nothing
happened for a few seconds. Then the magic came back, stronger this time. It had already
engulfed his hand when Harry sent his own magic towards it again, snuffing it out in an
instant. Funny enough, that seemed to be exactly what the rings had been waiting for, as it
resized immediately to fit snugly on his finger and sat there with a magical aura that seemed
decidedly smug. When Harry looked at it again, there was a tiny snake hiding in the vines at
the top of the shield.

“Er…?” He held out his finger to the goblin who peered at it questioningly.

“It seems the Black family magic has not only accepted, but very much embraced you. A
signet ring can be used as identification. Because nobody can take it from you or use it
without your consent, if a document is stamped with your signet ring, Gringotts, for example,
will treat is as authentic correspondence. In bigger families, multiple people may wear signet
rings with the family crest, so if you want to distinguish between them, sometimes the magic
adds a little detail to the ring to show which person it specifically belongs to. In your case
that seems to be a snake, heir Black.”

The goblin frowned again while Harry adjusted to the new title. Of course Harry knew
exactly why he had gotten a snake. The reason was wrapped around his arm right this
moment and, according to the muscle movement, seemed to be laughing. He almost expected
a question, but then Sharpclaw just closed his eyes for a brief moment and shook his head.

“What I’ve been wondering… what happened to Lord Arcturus Black?”

Sharpclaw gave him another shrewd look. “Now that you’re Heir Black, I guess it concerns
you and doesn’t fall under the privacy laws anymore. Arcturus Black has been bed-ridden for
the last two years and was being cared for in a private hospital in Switzerland. He passed
away at the beginning of this year.”

Damn it all. Harry had missed him by half a year. Six months. Just six months! He tried to
calm himself by twisting the heir ring around his finger. “That’s a shame. I would have loved
to speak to him.”

Sharpclaw made a noncommittal sound, then cleared his throat. “He was the one who
reinstated Sirius Black as heir to the Black fortune and title after he had been disowned by his
parents. But seeing as there was no one else left from the family, maybe…”

Harry waved him off. He knew exactly what Arcturus Black must have been thinking. With
Regulus dead, Sirius was the only choice left – or risk the title and money being claimed by
Lucius Malfoy on behalf of his son. From the lessons Walburga had drilled into him, the
Blacks had respected the Malfoy family enough to marry Narcissa to one of them, but had no
intention of their own fortune being swallowed up by another house. Even having Harry
Potter as heir would be preferable.

“On to the next question… do I get the Slytherin title by conquest or something? I read about
it in a few books.”

“An interesting theory. And no, you are not the Slytherin heir. A defeat by conquest is
incredibly rare, as there are multiple set conditions. There cannot, for example, be another
living heir. There also has to be some of the family’s or their ancestors’ blood in your own
family line. And only defeating them in a duel, or, as seems to have happened for you, by
accident is not enough. You have to defeat someone in body, mind and soul to even have a
chance to get their title by conquest. That’s why it’s so rare.”

“Oh bugger.” Sharpclaw looked up at the mumbled curse, but Harry was too busy bemoaning
the fact that he’d have to do the wraith thing and kill at least one horcrux again until this was
even an option. Walburga had told him to ask that and she would be very disappointed. Not
that Harry didn’t intend to change that in the future.

“Alright. Let’s deal with that in a few years then.” Another imaginary galleon for Harry, he
thought as he watched the sputtering goblin in front of him. “Until then – I have a request to
visit the Black family vault. The main one.”

“I’m sorry, but as heir Black you only have access to the vault your godfather gifted you for
your birth, as I already said last ti…”

“Yes yes, I know that. The request comes from Walburga Black on my behalf.”

That shut the goblin up for as long as it took him to gulp down several breaths. “But… she’s
dead?”

“Of course she is.” Harry waved him off. “But she still had a document lying around that is
sealed by her magic and grants the bearer of it access to take out some items of their choice,
even if it still restricts you from emptying the vault, of course.”
More staring, then a sigh. “It’s never going to be boring with you, is it?”, the goblin asked,
smiling wryly.

“Nope.”

Harry grinned and handed over the document. Walburga had admitted to creating it before
her death and hiding it in the house. As it was buried deep inside a wall which was then
repaired by magic, nobody would ever come across it by accident. As far as he knew from his
memories, nobody ever had, or maybe she had sent Kreacher to Bellatrix or Narcissa with it.
It was no surprise she’d never told Sirius about it. Harry figured it had been created to make
sure the most important family heirlooms would be able to be “saved” from him, should he
end up becoming Lord Black. As much as that sucked for Sirius, Harry couldn’t help but
admire his great-aunt’s ingenuity.

The cart ride was as exhilarating as the last time and Sharpclaw seemed pleased with Harry’s
joyous shouts on the way down. It was a very short stop, although Harry took some more
time to look through the family wands and not finding one that worked for him, but soon they
were on their way up again and then back in the office, Sharpclaw’s magic being very helpful
in moving what he had taken from the vault.

“And how are you, er, going to transport that?” Sharpclaw gestured at the now packaged up
thing taking up a lot of space in his office.

“Am I allowed to call a house elf to Gringotts, or does that go against the wards or common
social etiquette?”

Sharpclaw nodded. “Yes, you are allowed to call a house elf, though the entrance hall and the
vaults are warded. I don’t see how…”

Harry smirked. “Kreacher!”

There was a small pop, then a shout, and “oh, young master! Finally!” and Harry found his
leg hugged by the old house elf. There was a snort from the goblin and Kreacher immediately
let go.

“Sorry, so sorry, Master Harry. But you be heir finally and you can be calling Kreacher! No
more sneaking around the place, no no.”

When the elf tried to peer at his hand, Harry smiled and held it out so Kreacher could see the
ring properly. He was rewarded by tearful awe in the house elf’s eyes. It left a bitter note in
his mouth. The last time he had seen a similar ring on someone’s finger must have been when
Regulus was heir Black.

“Kreacher, please take this” Harry gestured to the package “home, as discussed. I’ll be by
later to speak to your Mistress.”

“Of course, Master Harry.”

The elf touched the unwieldy structure, then, with another pop, they both disappeared.
Sharpclaw blinked, then sat back down in his chair. “Well then. I guess that took care of that
matter.”

“Indeed it did.” Harry sat back down as well. “Now, am I, as a minor, allowed to open my
own account at Gringotts?”

There was that glint in the goblin’s eyes again. “Yes, in theory. You are not allowed to move
sums of money from other vaults you own into it without your guardian’s consent, but you
can open one.”

“Will my aunt be notified?”

Sharpclaw thought about that for a minute. “It’s not a rule per se to notify a guardian. They
will only be informed if they ask.”

“Then please refrain from informing my aunt, except if she specifically asks about it. And
even then I would prefer your discretion, if at all possible.”

“Very well. What would you like to put in this vault of yours?”

“There is something that has been bothering me. I seem to be famous in the wizarding world,
which makes it strange that nobody ever tried to contact me. Not that I’d have wanted anyone
to, but I still have to wonder – where are the official letters? Where are the birthday cards?
Fan mail? Anything? I’ve already seen some books that used my name and likeness without
me having been consulted.”

“That is strange indeed. I can only guess that someone put a mail ward on you.”

Harry sighed. That didn’t surprise him in the least. Not that he wasn’t thankful, in a way,
because being buried under owl mail would have meant an early death at the hands of
Vernon.

“Anything I can do about that?”

“Well… nothing you can do from Gringotts.”

Figures.

“For the mail ward you’ll have to find out who put it up and either ask them directly to
remove it, petition the ministry to tell them to remove it, or, if all else fails, get a lawyer.”

Seeing as Harry was pretty sure he knew who had put it up, he thought that should be doable.

“For the… history books and children’s books, “Harry Potter-approved” items… ”

“Harry Potter merch?”

Sharpclaw coughed, but Harry had a feeling that cough had started out as a laugh. “Yes. That.
No matter what happens with the mail ward, getting a lawyer to deal with things like that
would be a good idea. Now that you have re-entered the magical world, a lawyer could also
help you should a newspaper run an article on you or your family with wrong or dangerous
facts.”

Remembering fourth and fifth year, he could see the need. He also had some ideas how to
deal with Rita Skeeter, but a lawyer might help.

“Can you recommend a lawyer or law firm? I’m not even sure how that works in the magical
world.”

Sharpclaw nodded. “I can collect some names and send them to you via owl, or you can
collect them upon your next visit.”

Harry nodded, making a mental note. “I think sending them via owl is the best way. If you
could put a letter explaining it to my Aunt Petunia without mentioning my involvement, that
would be appreciated. I’m guessing lawyering up is one thing I can’t do on my own.”

“You’re right. If I may ask – what does all that have to do with your personal account?”

That led to a truly vicious grin. “Well. If anyone has been making money off my name for the
last decade, don’t you think I deserve some of that? And wherever my mail ended up, there
may have been some money included, or expensive gifts.”

The grin was mirrored on Sharpclaw’s face. “I see where you’re going with this. Anything
else?”

“If there are any people who have mentioned me in their wills, or gifted me large sums of
money, a house, trinkets… would that be a Gringotts matter, a ministry matter, or do I need a
lawyer for that too?”

Sharpclaw’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting thought process. Theoretically Gringotts deals with
wills and a lot of the inheritance process, like you becoming the Black heir. But if you didn’t
get your mail and nobody came to accept any possible inheritance, the safest option is to pay
a fee and have a goblin look into it and clear up whatever went wrong because of the missing
letters.”

While he didn’t feel like that was his fault, it would probably be the fastest way to solve this
situation. Harry signed the contract and paid the fee.

“As getting money out of any of those endeavours will take a while, is there anything you
want to deposit in your new account for now? Maybe you should wait to open one until any
of it pays off?”

“I may have nothing to put in yet, but I intend to not be bound to a trust vault where
someone, even if it is my aunt, can see what I do with my money. I will come into a decent
sum in the future and would prefer if I could spend it in peace on whatever I wish. If, for
example, you had some investment ideas for it as well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”
The sharp grin intensified quite a bit at that. “I do have to ask if the means by which you will
acquire this money are legal.”

“Oh, perfectly legal. Slightly unusual, maybe, but by Christmas time I should be able to start
filling it up a bit.”

The goblin nodded, and although Harry knew him well enough by now to see the curiosity in
his gaze, he didn’t ask any further questions – only handed over the necessary documents and
asked for the vault fee for the first year.

Before he left, Harry pushed the small golden key he had gotten from McGonagall in the
mail towards the goblin. Sharpclaw frowned until he touched it, then looked mostly confused.

"I figured you might want the old one back which was graciously returned to me."

After that, all that was left was to thank Sharpclaw for his services and try to exit the bank as
inconspicuously as possible.

It was sunny outside and the pleasant mix of voices and bustling people and shopping noises
made for a homey atmosphere. Despite all of that, Harry pulled the hood of his dark cloak
over his head and applied a small notice-me-not charm with the crystal. With all the magic
around Diagon Alley, nobody would pick up the underage magic anyway, though he was still
hesitant to use his wand. On his left arm, Mehen tightened a bit.

:Are we going now?:

:Yes. Be vigilant. Threaten if we are threatened, but only bite if I tell you to.:

Harry felt his familiar nod and the head of the snake slither closer to his wrist, ready to exit
his sleeve and deliver a very uncomfortable time onto whoever decided to mess with them.
Then he took another deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked right into Knockturn
Alley.

As it was winding and twisting every which way, the entrance to Diagon Alley was soon out
of sight. Nice tidy shop fronts were replaced by boarded up windows, dark doorways and
dingy shops displaying the darkest things you could think of.

This far in there were starting to be other people. Even though he had used a notice-me-not,
Harry was still worried because he was definitely child-sized. Still, he walked forward as if
he had every right to be here and soon found that everybody was ignoring him. Maybe there
were enough magical creatures the size of an eleven-year-old that nobody looked twice. That
didn’t mean Harry let his guard down, so he eyed every witch or wizard who passed him
from under his hood. Most were wearing shabby clothes and looked overall more down-
trodden than dangerous, but you never knew.

The further he got into the alley, the more he was distracted by the shops that were popping
up more often. One sold ritual tools and ingredients, which included wicked-looking knives
and everything from dried plants and the blood of various creatures to something that looked
distinctly like body parts. Another shadowy entry was identified as a bookshop by a dusty
sign hanging overhead and Harry noted its location to pop by later on. The next one over sold
dried herbs of every sort – including some “undetectable poison for your enemy’s teacup –
half price this week!”, after a few boarded up ones there was a pub that seemed to be full
even during this hour, next to it was a butcher, opposite a pet shop for Hagrid – and horror
zoo for everybody else, a shop selling poisonous candles, one with taxidermy animals… the
variety was great and greatly disturbing.

Opposite a shop selling shrunken heads was what he had been looking for. :Going in:, he
hissed to Mehen, then entered Borgin and Burkes.

There was nobody in the shop right now, so Harry used that time to pull his hood further into
his face and look at the items littering the shelves and tables. He was very tempted to destroy
the cursed necklace on sight, but last time it had only left the shop in sixth year, so he figured
that could wait. The shrivelled-up hand hadn’t made it here yet, but Harry thought he
recognised some of the other trinkets. Some wicked-looking daggers drew his attention, but
he clenched his hands in his robe, forcing himself to touch nothing.

He saw the door to the backroom opening out of the corner of his eyes, but continued to
pretend to browse for a few more minutes. He could feel the gaze of the shop owner on his
back, but ignored it a bit longer. Then…

“Good day, Mr Borgin.” Harry had practiced changing his voice a bit. Mehen seemed to think
it worked okay. Harry just hoped he didn’t sound too weird and, most importantly, less like
himself.

He still didn’t face the man, but was close enough to see him flinch. “You seem to know my
name, but with who am I talking exactly?”

“Does that actually work on some people?”, Harry countered.

The man shrugged and grinned. “Some.”

Harry snorted, then made a point of mustering the items in front of him again. A blood-
soaked handkerchief, a pack of tarot cards with disturbing motives, a bowl of miscellaneous
jewellery, a cursed purse that would bite your hand off if you tried to reach into it…

“Are you looking for anything specific, sir?”

In the privacy of his hood, Harry allowed himself a smirk. Seems he was behaving suspicious
and weird enough to not be classed as a child. He kept his head down and let his eyes roam
over more of the table, this time without really taking it in. One of the bracelets was making
his hand twitch, but when Harry tightened his occlumency shields, the siren call stopped. He
ignored it like everything else. He was here for something specific, after all. Not to mention
he had a house full of dark artefacts anyway if he really needed some.

“Yes. But not something I’m going to tell you about, I’m afraid. Safer for us both.” Mostly
for him, of course. But Borgin didn’t have to know that.

“Of course. If anything catches your attention, let me know.”

The next few minutes were spent in silence with Borgin watching his every move and Harry
slowly moving towards his intended target. Sometimes he asked about an item or two, which
is how he found out the pair of daggers were, in fact, poisoned; sometimes he pretended to
almost buy an item only to find a perceived fault. When the shop owner grew a bit more
irritated, Harry stopped.

“Is that a vanishing cabinet?”

“Yes. That ended up here after a household was dissolved.”

“Mmh.”

Harry opened the door and peeked inside, a memory flashing in his mind of him hiding in
here from Draco Malfoy. That this incident occurred a year from now just made the
experience stranger.

“Does it still work? Where is its counterpart?”

The man fidgeted a bit. “I’m not sure. It should work, theoretically.”

“Mmh.”

Harry made a point of inspecting the inside, the door, even looked at the underside where he
could see a few tiny runes inscribed in spirals. He was filled with a growing respect for Draco
Malfoy who had managed to fix one of these on his own in 6th year.

“Maybe if I stripped it of its enchantments…”, Harry mused quietly, but not quietly enough
that Borgin didn’t hear him. “How much?”

“200 Galleons.”

He turned towards the man, not saying anything, just looking at him. To calm his heartbeat,
he imagined how it must look like for Borgin, who was staring into the dark depth of a
faceless person’s hood. It didn’t help much with his racing heart and his dry throat, but the
thought was a nice one anyway.

“100.”

Harry almost lost control of his mask. Merlin, the man was desperate. Or scared. Or both.
“50. After all, it doesn’t even have a counterpart and I’ll have to do all the work myself.”

“90.”

“60.”

“75. And I’ll throw in that mokeskin pouch from earlier.”

Harry thought about that for a moment. He could probably get it a few galleons lower, but he
might have to come back here eventually if only to get rid of the necklace. Borgin not
completely hating him would be a plus. The pouch had also been one of the more decent
things and he had only decided not to buy it because he didn’t want to spend much money
here.

“Deal.”

The man looked a bit disgruntled, but not mad, so Harry counted that as a win. He picked up
the pouch on the way to the counter, careful not to touch any of the surrounding items. They
really should take more care what they put out and where they placed it. Then again,
everybody who entered this shop was just asking to get cursed anyway.

He pocketed the pouch, then counted out some of the money from an inside pocket on his
robe – he had covered most of his clothing with it to be less identifiable and his backpack
was hidden as well.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Erm… how are you going to move it?” Borgin looked at the large black cabinet that took up
a whole corner of the shop. Honestly, Harry could see why he wanted to get rid of it to make
space for something else.

“That’s not going to be an issue.”

He walked towards the cabinet again while Borgin stayed at the counter, a questioning look
on his face. When he figured he was mostly out of earshot, Harry quietly called for Kreacher.

With a pop the house elf appeared in the shop and Borgin flinched again, then looked from
Harry to the elf that was bowing deeply, back to Harry. He was probably wondering how
much money his new customer really could have spent.

“Yes, Master-Sir?”

Harry had instructed the elf to act more refined and not to mention any names when
answering this specific call. Still, he had to sigh a bit at what Kreacher had decided was an
appropriate address.

“Take this one home. I’ll be by in two hours or so.”

Kreacher bowed again, nose almost touching the floor, then touched one hand to the cabinet
and popped both himself and it to Grimmauld Place. When Harry turned around it was to
face a slightly stunned-looking Mr Borgin. He caught himself soon enough, though, trying to
force his face into a winning smile.

“Well, I hope you were satisfied with your purchase and I will see you again in my humble
shop.”

Harry gave a non-committal head-bob, then left the shop. He had never thought he’d breathe
a sigh of relief when re-entering Knockturn Alley, but this proved him wrong. Acting grown-
up was exhausting. He felt like spending half his money in the quidditch shop just to get this
out of his system.
:I don’t like that man.: Mehen was still wound around his arm, but now poked out his head
slightly. :He looked sleazy. And that shop smelled strange.:

Harry hadn’t noticed, but maybe he had been too nervous. He still thought he’d delivered an
Oscar-worth performance. Walburga would be proud. Whelp. Time to get back into his
persona because he still had a few stops to make.

The first one was at an apothecary that had some very questionable-looking potions and
ingredients, but also sold restricted things that interested Harry. One of those was an eye-
correcting potion that needed blood to work. As blood-magic was forbidden in this country,
that posed a bit of a problem. Theoretically, brewing, selling or buying the potion was a legal
grey zone. Actually drinking it, however…

Harry was still tempted. The thought of seeing everything clearly without wearing glasses
was a strong incentive, as was not having to worry about his glasses slipping off during a
fight. But breaking the law his very first week in the wizarding world was probably not the
best idea. He settled for buying some more restricted ingredients and getting nutrient and
bone strengthening potions without raising eyebrows. While he had snuck to the fridge to
supplement his food intake for years and had been properly taken care of for half a year now,
potions would help repair whatever damage was left of Vernon. Some of the physical one,
anyway. A few doses of Polyjuice potion were a nice extra.

After that he made a trip to the bookshop he had seen on the way here. It consisted of dozens
of shelves along all the walls and back to back to form narrow aisles. They got even more
narrow due to the stacks upon stacks of books covering most of the floor. Finding anything
was more luck than skill, but Harry still managed to get a few Dark Arts books and one on
how to become an animagus. It looked a bit dubious, but Harry figured he had a few years
until he could try that anyway.

He ignored all other shops and people, including the hag trying to sell him poisonous candles
and a man stalking him, though he was pretty sure he was a vampire. Harry was half tempted
to talk to the guy just because he was curious what he could possibly want, but Mehen hissed
at him to keep going. To be fair, the day had been eventful enough.

When getting back to Diagon Alley, Harry tried to look nonchalant and non-suspicious and
had the feeling he was failing miserably. To escape any gazes of people who might have seen
him come out of Knockturn, Harry made a few rounds in the busy quidditch store and pushed
his hood back while lurking behind some shelves. Whoever may have noticed the stranger
walking out of the alley would never have recognised him as the 11-year old coming out of
Quality Quidditch Supplies in a Holyhead Harpies fan shirt.

Only when he was sitting at Fortescue’s with ice cream without anyone giving him a second
look did Harry allow himself to relax and enjoy the strawberry-chocolate with peppermint
dragons.

After that followed a short trip to a store that sold miscellaneous items where he picked up a
few nice notebooks and self-inking pens and fun odds and ends. And because pretending to
be an adult had been so exhausting, he got two scoops of normal-looking ice cream to go
before he entered muggle London.
Getting to Grimmauld Place was easy by now. What was even easier was entering the house,
as the door swung open when he reached the top step.

Harry frowned and tentatively reached out with his magic. There was a slight humming in the
air, breaking through the usual silence. He could also hear Kreacher humming in the kitchen,
but he had started that some time ago when Harry had mentioned he could do whatever he
wanted to; he didn’t mind. So that wasn’t new.

:This feels different.: Mehen was poking out of his sleeve again, looking at the open door.

:Yes, I feel it too.:

The snake’s tongue flicked out. :It feels like home.:

Harry pushed his magic further and was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of Black family
magic coming out to greet him. It felt like the house was alive for the first time since he’d
come here. It was latching on to his left pinkie first, then flowing up his arm to envelope him
in a warm hug. And it did feel like a father’s hug.

:Why are you crying?: Mehen’s tongue was flicking out more and more, seemingly
distressed. He also started winding his way up his arm, probably to get a closer look at his
face.

:It’s alright, Mehen. I’m just… happy.:

Harry wiped some of the wetness from his eyes; Walburga probably wouldn’t appreciate
tears. She might make an exception today. Probably not for this amount of tears, though, as
the sleeve with which he had dried his face had slipped down a bit and exposed the bracelet
he was always wearing – which set him off again.

:What is it?: The snake had made its way to his head by now and when Harry turned his head,
he was face to face with his familiar.

:I haven’t had a family for so long and now I have two. A muggle one and a magical one.
How did I get so lucky?:

If having one family haunted by an insane uncle and the other consisting of a house elf and a
painting could be called lucky. Most people would probably disagree. Harry just didn’t care.

The Black family magic was still wafting around him, but now had a slightly curious note to
it. That brought Harry up short again. Could magic be sentient? When thinking about
Hogwarts and stuff like the room of requirement, the answer might as well be yes.

:Are we going in or not?: Mehen nodded his head from side to side.

Harry nodded and finally stepped inside. The magic gave him one more squeeze, then faded a
bit into the background. He could still feel it in his chest, though, like a tiny heartbeat that
was tied to his own. If it disappeared when he left the house, Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able
to go.
“Hello, Aunt Walburga.”

The portrait smiled at him and her gaze flickered to his hand. “Kreacher already said the
family magic accepted you. Not that I had any doubts.”

That made him blush and duck his head, though he held up the ring for inspection anyway. “I
got an alteration too. There’s a tiny snake in the foliage.”

Watching a portrait lean forward within the canvas to get a closer look at something never got
less weird. Watching Walburga smile took getting used to as well, but she seemed to do it a
lot more often now.

“I can also feel the family magic. And it accepted me really quickly when I was putting on
the ring.”

She was outright smiling now. “I’m so proud of you. You’re officially part of the Black
family now. Of course I expect you to represent us correctly, even if I have no doubt at all
that you will manage that beautifully.”

“Thank you, Aunt Walburga.”

She chuckled a bit, probably at his by now bright red head. He could feel the heat in his face.

“Now. What did you get from the vault? Did one of the wands bond with you?”

“Sadly no. Ollivander said I should get a second one, but none of his and none of the ones
from the vaults worked for that. I’ll keep looking.”

“And the two huge things Kreacher lugged across the hallway?”

“Erm, yes. Those.”

She raised one of her eyebrows – Harry decided he had to learn how to do that – and just
continued to stare at him.

“Well, one of them is the pensieve from the vault. Another one is a vanishing cabinet from
Borgin and Burkes.”

She continued to stare at him. Harry started fidgeting. He’d been worried about this, but
storing the items anywhere but Grimmauld would be too dangerous. But he couldn’t exactly
tell Walburga he wanted the pensieve to review memories from a timeline that didn’t exist
anymore. And if he couldn’t tell her that, he also couldn’t tell her how he knew where the
second cabinet was.

“I have plans for them both. But I can’t tell you about them.”

Now both of her eyebrows were raised and almost disappearing into her hairline. She leaned
forward again to muster him, from the tip of his hair to the bottom of his shoes. Harry tried to
keep standing straight and not be intimidated.
“Mh”, she sniffed. “I think I trained you too well.”

He let out a breath he had been holding and even managed a weak smile. “You’ll be the first
to know if it works”, he promised her.

It would be hard to hide it from her anyway. If he managed to find the second cabinet at
Hogwarts (it should be somewhere outside of the room of requirement this year, that much he
remembered. The first floor?), he’d have a way to get to Grimmauld Place from Hogwarts.
And suddenly appearing in front of his aunt would raise all kinds of questions. He’d just have
to come up with an excuse how the hell he had known about the thing. And get over his fear
of being expelled for leaving the school. Seeing as Dumbledore didn’t know about trolls and
basilisks roaming the hallways, though, he figured that one student sneaking out should go
unnoticed.

The pensieve would stay a private thing and he had to find a way to keep whatever memories
he put in there safe. Having Kreacher accidentally take a look would be a nightmare. Or
Sirius, if he ever managed to get his godfather out of prison before the man escaped on his
own. Now that was an idea…

“You’ve got your scheming face going.”

“Sorry, Aunt Walburga.”

“I told you to hide that better.”

“Sorry, Aunt Walburga.”

There was a very short revision on how to greet other people of high standing – “I can’t have
you making a bad impression on the other students. It would be unseemly” – and then a
mouth-watering early dinner prepared by Kreacher. He had to leave soon afterwards because
while he could theoretically make his aunt forget any worry she may feel over his late return,
he really didn’t want to resort to that.

“Goodbye, Aunt Walburga. I’m not sure whether I’ll manage to sneak out again.” He bowed
to the portrait and smiled at the woman in it.

“You’ll do just fine. I’ve taught you enough to be sure of it. And do remember to write to
Kreacher, so he can read to me and tell me how you’re doing.”

“I promise.” Harry turned to go, then hesitated. Then he hesitated some more. “What if…
what if they don’t like me?” He hated how tiny and shaky his voice sounded.

“They don’t have to like you, just respect you.”

“But I’m still the boy-who-lived who destroyed the Dark Lord. And if I do end up in
Slytherin, I’m not sure they’ll be too happy about it. What if they don’t even respect me?”

“Then you force them to.”

 He took a breath to answer her, then thought better of it and just nodded sharply. He was
Harry Evans-Potter, heir Black. Maybe people would hate him for either of it, or both. But he
sure wasn’t going to change for anyone this time around.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, this is the last chapter before Harry goes to Hogwarts. Finally. He just had so much
more to do than I first thought!
Also, this chapter took me about a month to write because it just would not cooperate.
Luckily I pre-write this fic, so you lot didn't have to suffer with me.
 Some of it remains
Chapter Summary

Harry goes to Hogwarts.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Have you got your parchment?”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“Your owl treats for Hedwig?”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“Your book satchel? Robes? Wand? Have you got your wand?”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia. I have everything. And even if I forget something, you can just send
Smaug with it, or send it back with Hedwig when I send you a letter”, Harry answered and
tried, for the umpteenth time, to take a bite of his toast.

“And promise to send a letter immediately! I have to know which house you get into!”,
Dudley said, bouncing a bit in his seat.

Harry promised it, also for the umpteenth time, and decided eating the toast in one big bite
was the only way he was getting any breakfast today.

It was a very strange scene in the Evans kitchen. There was a veritable breakfast feast, as well
as a second mountain of food that had turned out to be packed lunch for the train. His trunk
was sitting next to the front door, Hedwig was sitting in the window, ready to take off – and,
the most interesting thing of it all, every single person at the table was wearing a wizarding
robe. Well, Petunia had her wine-red one draped over the back of her chair, but that didn’t
detract from the weirdness of the picture.

“I should really get that fireplace unlocked”, she murmured, glancing at the living room.
“Then we could get our own floo connection. I don’t trust that bus.”

They had been to London again, both to visit Diagon Alley and to pick up school supplies for
Dudley and him in the muggle world. To save on fuel, Dudley had insisted on using the
Knight Bus – and maybe also because he wanted to experience magical transportation. He
had very much enjoyed that experience. Petunia had not. Still, getting to London from Surrey
by car this early in the morning was a nightmare, so they had pre-booked tickets to the bus,
some of them more reluctantly than others.

“It’s a devil machine”, she whispered. “Definitely a devil machine.”

Harry just smiled into his cup of milk and continued to listen to Dudley’s excited babble. It
didn’t even take a hit when Petunia insisted they take the robes off until they entered the
magical platform.

He was going to Hogwarts today. And his aunt and cousin would see him off at platform 9 ¾.
Tonight, he would be sleeping in whatever dorm the sorting hat deigned to put him in – and
he would try his best in all of them, he promised himself. By now he wished he could go to
Hufflepuff, just because it seemed like the easiest house for him to be in. Being surrounded
by friendly, hard-working people sounded very good for his mental health.

By the time they had lugged his trunk out of the Knight Bus near King’s Cross, along with a
handful of other families, Petunia swore she would write straight to the ministry of magic to
get a floo connection if it meant she never had to enter this horror contraption again. Harry
ended up putting a small notice me not charm on all of them with his crystal, just in case, but
they made it to the correct pillar without anyone giving them strange looks.

“So we just… walk right through it?” Dudley’s face couldn’t quite decide between the
sceptical and excited expression and the result was that he looked a little constipated.

“Yes, right through there. I went with Lily and our parents a time or two when they dragged
me along.”

Knowing how much she had wanted to have magic too, being there must have hurt, Harry
thought. He found himself feeling sorry for his aunt yet again.

“Let’s run at it. Maybe that’ll help us be less nervous. And so we don’t chicken out at the last
moment”, Harry suggested. It was kind of a tradition to do that the first time and he wanted
his cousin to experience it.

Dudley swallowed. “Alright then.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed, then took a deep
breath. “Here we go.”

To his credit, it was Dudley who pulled them forward and had them pick up speed. He had
his eyes closed right before they would have hit the wall, but they flew open immediately
when no collision happened and went wide when he saw platform 9 ¾ for the first time. Even
though Harry had seen it time and time again in memories and last year during his failed rat
catching attempt, he could still understand the awe on his cousin’s face.

“Hogwarts’ Express, 11 o’ clock” said the sign over the scarlet steam engine, the wrought
iron gate right behind them, which Petunia was stepping through with Harry’s trunk. Dudley
had let go of his hand by now and was staring wide-eyed at the colourful crowd, the animals,
and the general chaos.

“Mum, give me my robe!”, his cousin pleaded.

Petunia just sighed and pulled the maroon robe out of her bag. Harry’s green one was next,
then she donned her own. Harry caught the gaze of a boy with a slightly familiar face. He
gave them a once-over, sneered and turned around to talk to an older man who was wearing
robes that cost at least twice as much as theirs combined, Harry could tell even from this
distance.

Probably pureblood then. He just sighed and decided he might as well get used to it. His
cousin hadn’t noticed anyway, as he was currently staring at a group of boys who were
showing each other their new brooms.

“Wicked. I wish I could go.”

Harry shoulder-butted him, then moved Dudley’s attention to a boy with dreadlocks (Lee
Jordan. Watch that one, the twins are usually not far) who was showing around a tarantula.

“I read there’s spiders in the magical world that can get as big as a house! Acromantula, I
think?”, mused Dudley.

“Yes, I read that in Fantastical Creatures and Where to Find Them too.” Dudley had read his
school books as much as Harry, if not more often. “I don’t think I want to meet one, though.”
(Again.)

“Fair”, agreed his cousin.

That luckily moved the topic of conversation on to magical creatures and then what kind of
weird people they could see on the platform. Dudley was especially enamoured with a certain
vulture hat-wearing older lady, although the woman intimidated him like not even
McGonagall had managed to.

The platform was filling up with adults and emptying of children, however, and Harry was
soon shuffled off to the train by his aunt. The front was already filled with students talking to
family out of the windows, so Harry walked towards the middle instead.

“I’ll try to find a compartment on this side with a window so I can wave you goodbye. So
don’t go yet.”

“Oh I’m staying until this thing leaves the station”, Dudley vowed. Harry immediately
believed it.

Petunia helped him haul his trunk up the entrance stairs and then he set off down the hallway.
A lot of compartments were already filled to the brim with children catching up with friends,
but he soon found one where only two girls were sitting down. One blonde girl with pigtails
was braiding the other girl’s hair. Harry had a good idea who they were and decided he might
as well get to know some of his year-mates.

“Excuse me, is there still room for one more person?”

The girls turned synchronously, the blonde one blushing furiously, but the other giving him a
warm smile. “Of course! Come in! Do you need help with your trunk?”
“Thank you, I think I’ll take you up on that one.”

As he had activated the feather-light charms, getting it onto the rack was a matter of seconds
and soon Harry was sitting next to the helpful one.

“I have to look out of the window real quick, if you don’t mind. My aunt and cousin will
want to know which compartment I’m in.”

“Sure! You can take my seat, actually. Hanna’s parents are waving her goodbye, but my aunt
couldn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry about your aunt. But thanks for giving me your seat!”

Yes, he could see why Susan had been sorted into Hufflepuff in the last timeline and he was
pretty sure it would happen again.

Harry leaned out of the window and, with a lot of awkward waving and shouting that made
the two girls giggle, managed to get Dudley’s attention. Soon his relatives were positioned in
a way where they could talk a bit through the window. A round-faced woman with kind eyes
was standing right next to them – probably Hanna’s mother.

“Promise me you’ll write”, Dudley pouted. “I may not be able to go, but you better send me
pictures! Or I won’t let mum use Smaug to send you sweets.”

“Of course I’ll write you – but only if you write back, alright? I can’t get too behind in maths
after all.”

“Ugh, maths. Is that the only reason why you want to contact me?”

Their good-natured bickering passed the time, while Petunia had actually struck up a
conversation with Mrs Abbott. The topic seemed to be sewing, from what little Harry
managed to pick up.

It was just five minutes to eleven when the floo at the other end of the platform flashed and a
gaggle of Weasleys stumbled out. As usual, there was suddenly much more chaos as the
horde of red-heads made their way through the crowd.

Well, that answered one question then. When looked at in the context of other memories, it
didn’t make sense for the Weasleys to use the muggle entrance to the platform. It must have
been Dumbledore’s instructions after all. Harry could almost hear him weaving a tale for
Molly Weasley about the poor muggleborn students who would be all alone and could use a
helping hand with entering the platform and the matronly woman eating it up. He didn’t
doubt she’d had good intentions, and Dumbledore maybe too, but he couldn’t help but be
relieved that McGonagall had been much more thorough in her explanations than Hagrid.

While the boys piled onto the train, Harry’s eyes got drawn to the girl, clutching her mother’s
hand. Ginny. He remembered her too, and what she had meant to him – although he almost
couldn’t see the fierce-tempered woman she had become in the shy little girl she was right
now. After she had gotten over her hero-worship and he had started to see her as more than
just his best friend’s sister, they had clicked in a way that had made him want to truly get to
know her, spend time with her, make her laugh…

He'd thought it was love.

As someone who had grown up without it, all he had wanted was a family. It was what the
mirror of Erised had shown him, what he had tried to protect by fighting against Voldemort.
It’s what you were supposed to do, after all. Marry your high school sweetheart, spend your
lives together, start a family… Only that Harry had noticed after a while that while he loved
Ginny very much, it wasn’t the kind of love she had expected or needed. Whether he had
been lying to her, lying to himself, or both, he wasn’t sure yet – especially because he was
still eleven and some of the emotions he got from his memories were very strange to him.
And right now he didn’t remember anything after 7th year anyway.

“Hey!”

A waving hand snapped him out of his thoughts and Harry’s eyes focused on Dudley, who
was looking at him with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just spaced out for a bit. It’s still all so surreal. And… and I’ll miss you so
much.”

Dudley smiled and Harry tore his eyes away from the gaggle of red that was now surrounding
Molly Weasley. He had a feeling he knew what they were talking about anyway and the
nostalgia had already cost him precious moments with Dudley.

A whistle sounded and suddenly the platform got louder again, as everybody was screaming
goodbye. Dudley was no exception.

“And tell me immediately which house you are in!”, he repeated. “And send pictures!
Moving ones!”

Harry screamed his promise back while the train lurched, then began to move forward.
Petunia had one hand on Dudley’s shoulder, the other waving at him. His cousin was waving
much more enthusiastically. A little red-haired girl ran past them, crying and laughing at the
same time, chasing the train. Then all of them disappeared from view.

“Do you want your window seat back?”, he asked Susan.

“If you don’t mind.”

Shrugging, he moved over, then held out his hand. “I think we kind of forgot to introduce
ourselves in all the chaos. I’m Harry.”

There was a questioning look in her eyes, but he ignored it for now and she didn’t ask. “I’m
Susan. This is Hannah.”

“It’s nice to meet you”, he smiled and shook both of their hands.
Hannah was turning red again, then burst out: “are you Harry Potter?” She immediately
squeaked and ducked her shoulders while Susan threw her an annoyed look.

Harry just sighed. “Yes, I am. Though it’s Harry Evans-Potter, actually.”

He could see that she wanted to ask about that too, but was apparently mortified enough not
to try.

“Who were those two on the platform?”

“My aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley. I grew up with them in the muggle world.” He
shrugged again. “I was only told a week before my eleventh birthday that I was a wizard.”

Now that made their eyes go wide. Harry hoped that rumour was going to make its way all
throughout Hogwarts, though he might have to get it to Lavender Brown and Pansy
Parkinson to cover all the bases.

“That’s just…” Susan’s face shifted through multiple different expressions, then settled on
wide eyes and a pinched mouth. “Do you know about what happened? Because you’re kind
of famous and… I just want to warn you, you know, that there will be a lot of people…” She
trailed off, biting her lip.

“It’s alright. I know. Well, not alright exactly because I’m not used to people staring at me or
having all these expectations, but I’ll deal with it.” Though he appreciated her concern.

“Is your cousin coming to Hogwarts too? He seems really nice…” That was actually Hannah,
who trailed off.

“No, sadly not. He’s a squib, so he didn’t get a letter. Though I’m not sure why.”

“But he can’t do magic! How would he go to Hogwarts?” She blushed again. “Sorry, that was
a bit rude.”

“A bit, but I know how you meant it. And think about it for a moment. Which subjects are
there and which ones do you need magic for? Not just the occasional bit of magic, but based
entirely on magic?”

He let the girls list subject after subject and come to the same conclusion as him. As future
Hufflepuffs they were suitably outraged.

“But that’s so unfair! I’m going to ask my aunt about this. She works at the ministry and
maybe she can explain why it works like that”, Susan declared.

That topic was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open.

“Anyone sitting there?” Ron asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is
full.”

Harry just stared at him, wide-eyed, and Susan politely told him to take a seat. While Ron
was getting his trunk situated, Harry tried to pull himself together and failed miserably.
Why was he here? He’d thought about doing everything the same as before, but figured
things would happen the way they would and not the way they had. Besides, he was still
scared to death that he would get lost in the memory and blurt out something he shouldn’t
know, or be too familiar with someone who should be a stranger, or…

There were suddenly three red-heads in the compartment when the twins appeared in the
doorway.

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down
there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Take good care of our ickle baby brother,” said the other twin. “See you later, Ron!”

The girls nodded while Harry still stared, this time seeing George without an ear and seeing
Fred…

“Bye,” said Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

They were so young. All of them were so young. Seeing everyone here when he knew
exactly what they had looked like in seventh year? That was strange.

“…and this is Hannah”, he heard Susan say.

“Ron. Ron Weasley.”

Harry shook himself. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry Potter?”

He just sighed while the girls giggled again. “Evans-Potter, actually.” This was going to get
old soon. Ron’s eyes flickered to the scar and then away, though Harry could see him
glancing at it out of the corner of his eyes. He braced for the intrusive question – which never
came. Huh.

“We were just having a discussion about the Hogwarts subjects and whether squibs would be
able to do them. What do you think?”, Susan asked.

“Oh, huh. Never really thought about it. It’s probably just easier to have them stay in the
muggle world. I think my mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk
about him.”

Harry vaguely remembered hearing that phrase before, but this time it made something inside
of him burn. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“I asked why. Why do you never talk about him?” Susan and Hannah shared a look at his
slightly sharper tone, but Ron seemed oblivious.
“I’m not sure, it just never comes up. We don’t have a lot in common, I guess. What with him
living in the muggle world and us in the magical one.”

“If he’s an accountant, he probably would have been really good at arithmancy”, Hannah
mused, saving the conversation from crashing and burning before it had even started.

“I’d never thought about that, but probably. Huh.”

He’s eleven, Harry reminded himself. And he doesn’t know any better. He pushed the fury in
his mind down until it fizzled out and soon found himself talking with the others about what
they thought their favourite subjects were going to be. Ron was looking forward to the flying
lessons and Defence, Hannah to Herbology and Charms, Susan to Defence and Astrology and
Harry settled on Transfiguration and Potions.

“The potions professor is supposed to be a real git, though”, Ron warned them. “I’ve got five
older brothers who went to Hogwarts and they all said the same.”

“I’ve heard my aunt complain about him too”, confided Susan. “Something about not getting
enough auror trainees because there’s so few people with good potions NEWTs because a lot
of students drop out of his class after OWLs. When she goes on a rant, she’s terrifying.” She
looked more awed than terrified, though, and Harry had to grin at the thought of seeing
Madam Bones dress down Severus Snape.

“Well, I still hope I’ll get good marks because I think I’ll really like the subject. My mum
was very good at it too.”

The conversation soon turned to family and Ron suddenly remembered Scabbers in his
pockets while talking about Percy and pulled the rat out.

Harry froze. That was another reason he had been trying to avoid Ron. Because murdering
his pet right in front of him viciously and without remorse wouldn’t leave a very good first
impression. He felt his hand twitch towards his wand, then had to keep his other from
reaching for the crystal.

The movement jostled Mehen awake, who had been sleeping inside a pocket he had sewn
into his sleeve. It had kept him awake a few nights until he had gotten it right and now most
of his robes had the same contraption.

:Harry? You woke me up:, the snake complained and Harry shushed him as quietly as
possible.

Luckily the others were distracted by Scabbers and then talked about their respective pets –
Hannah had a cat at home, but her mother wanted her to settle in first and then possibly bring
it after the Christmas break while Susan’s aunt had promised her an owl if she passed her
final exams with good enough marks.

:Is that the rat you tried to catch last year?: Mehen poked his head out a bit and eyed Scabbers
while Harry desperately pushed him back into the shadow of his sleeve. :He smells funny.
Like a rat, but also not. Should I catch him for you?:
:No, not yet. I need some other plans to work out first.:

“Do you have a pet, Harry?”

And soon Harry was trying to chase away his murderous thoughts by talking about Hedwig
and then talking about Smaug and then trying to explain the Hobbit to Ron and Susan, while
Hannah had read it and tried to help him. Harry wasn’t sure they succeeded.

The conversation took the edge off the anger, but he still couldn’t help but keep an eye on
Scabbers. It had been a difficult decision and it had taken Walburga many hours to change his
mind. While he could agree that catching the rat on the platform and keeping him in the
dungeons of Grimmauld Place had been a bit of an impulsive plan, he hadn’t seen anything
wrong with catching the rat covertly on the train while creating a distraction and then sending
his stunned form to the auror office at the ministry.

Walburga had reminded him that the ministry was inherently corrupt and that very powerful
people had a vested interest in Sirius Black staying in prison. She had alluded to Mr Malfoy,
who apparently still harboured hopes that Draco could inherit the Black title, but also Fudge.
Thinking about how he had reacted last time and then again, when presented with a fact he
didn’t like, Harry had to concede. What he needed was a fool-proof plan. Something public
that could not be silenced. And that was not on the Hogwarts express with three other
children around who could get hurt in the process and no adult to help should anything go
wrong.

At least the others didn’t notice and the only break in the conversation happened when the
trolley lady slid back their door and the rush on the sweets started. Hannah got almost a
dozen chocolate frogs and a packet of Berty Bott’s, while Susan bought a pumpkin pasty and
a licorice wand. Harry himself just got a handful of chocolate frogs. He also noticed Ron
looking pointedly in another direction, the red tips of his ears barely hidden by his red mane,
and fidgeting slightly.

“You didn’t exactly get a lot, Harry.” Hannah furrowed her brow. “Don’t you need more to
eat?”

He couldn’t help but laugh and then opened his satchel to show them neatly stacked
Tupperware boxes. “My aunt went a little bit overboard with the lunch boxes. Feel free to
take whatever you want.”

Ron, who had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it, was staring at the four
sandwiches sadly. “My mum always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“You can choose something from here,” said Harry. “It’s not like I can eat it all. And when
we’re at Hogwarts we’ll get food anyway.”

Ron hesitated a bit longer, but the call of Petunia’s chicken and bacon sandwich was too
much of a temptation. Soon the compartment was filled with four happily munching children.

“Oooh, I haven’t got this card yet!” Hannah was almost bouncing in her seat. “I’ve been
looking for Elfrida Clagg forever!” She carefully wrapped the card in a handkerchief, then
put it into the pocket of her robe. “I’ll have to send this home. I’m scared it’ll get damaged in
the dorms.”

“You collect them then?”, asked Harry.

“Um, yes. I’ve been doing that since I was little. I’ve got quite a lot”, she admitted.

“A lot?”, snorted Susan. “You could probably plaster your whole room with them.”

“Here, you can have mine.” Harry handed the cards he had already unwrapped to the stunned
girl. “It’s not like it makes sense for me to start now. Besides, I’m in it for the chocolate.” He
winked and was rewarded by a huge smile, this time even without the seemingly ever-present
blush.

“Thank you!” While not wrapped in a handkerchief, Harry couldn’t help but noticed the cards
were still placed inside her pocket very carefully.

The next hour was passed taking turns eating Berty Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and trying to
make a list of which ones to avoid. Very high up was one that tasted like rotten egg that had
made Hannah gobble down three chocolate frogs at once to wash down the taste and the coal
one that Harry had gotten, which had also turned his tongue black for half an hour.

Harry had just gotten a nice orange-flavoured one when the compartment door slid open.
Bracing himself, he looked up.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” a girl in Hogwarts robes said, her bushy hair
half obscuring the slightly awkward-looking boy behind her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but we haven’t seen a toad”, said Susan.

Hermione sighed. “We’ve been down half the train and still nothing. Are you sure you had
him with you when you got on, Neville?”

The other boy stuttered an affirmative while looking at the floor.

“Excuse me, but what is your toad’s name?”

Neville’s head snapped up to meet his eyes, then immediately went down again. “His name is
Trevor. I got him from my uncle Algie when…” His round face turned red and he tapered off.

“Well, I think I can help.”

Harry flicked his wand out of his holster and stepped past the two compartment intruders into
the hallway. Soon there were three more heads peeking around the door frame.

“Let’s see it then.”

Harry almost smiled. He did remember this brash version of Hermione very well. “Point me,
Trevor the toad”, he intoned.
At first, his wand was spinning wildly in his palm, having more in common with a propeller
than a compass needle. Harry had to staunch the flow of his magic tremendously to make the
spell work. Huh. This was the first time he had used his wand and apparently consciously
using his magic with a weaker focus had messed up his magic input. At least he had found
out before his first class.

After figuring out the correct ratio, his wand finally swivelled on his palm to point down the
way the two had come.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? That was in English!”, Hermione complained.

“Yes, it is. Most spells we use are in Latin, but some work in English. I found this one in an
extra Charms book I bought and it seemed useful.” Harry frowned, moved further down the
corridor, then turned around. “You coming? We should be able to find your toad this way.”

Hermione huffed, but made to follow him and Neville trudged after her. Hannah, Susan and
Ron were just staring.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to come. I’ll be back soon.”

It didn’t take long. After walking down the train for a bit, casting the spell every few
compartments, there came a time when it suddenly pointed behind them.

“Aha! He must be somewhere close.”

It turned out Trevor had hidden inside one of the lavatories. As it was the girls’ one, both
Harry and Neville were suddenly very thankful that Hermione was with them. Neville was
soon clutching the toad to his chest while Hermione had a self-satisfied grin on her face.

“Well then. Let’s go back to your compartment and then you can teach me that spell.”

Harry sputtered a bit at her inviting herself, then sighed. It seemed some things were bound to
repeat themselves after all.

“Why don’t you both come? Six people should be enough to keep an eye on Trevor as well.”

Neville made a squeaking sound, but didn’t object, so they all ended up in the suddenly
smaller compartment.

“Now. That spell. I’ve tried a few simple spells myself just for practice and it’s all worked for
me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but
I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve
heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough —
I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

Ron looked as if his head span from that tirade and Hannah and Susan exchanged a glance.
They were still polite enough to introduce themselves. Ron surprised him by holding out his
hand for her to shake.
“Harry Evans-Potter,” said Harry, already dreading where this was going. Merlin be damned,
why him.

“Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books,
for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the
Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. You were supposed to have
glasses, though…”

Susan and Hannah snickered at his plight, though Susan at least looked slightly apologetic.

“I should really get used to this, shouldn’t I?”, he sighed. “Yes, I am. And no, you probably
shouldn’t believe everything in those books.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Are you really going to argue with the person the books were written about?”

She closed her mouth, but looked slightly put-off. Harry was just glad he had gotten Petunia
to take him to the optician again to buy contact lenses. Even if he couldn’t take the potion to
heal his eyes yet, the muggle world had its own solution to his problem. Looking less like a
mini James was an additional plus, especially as he had managed to semi-tame his hair by
growing it out and forcing it into a ponytail.

“Do either of you know what house you’ll be in?”, Hermione changed the topic. “I’ve been
asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore
himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad...”

That started off the discussion about houses that Harry had somehow managed to avoid so
far. He hated that bloody stupid system with a passion.

Unsurprisingly, Susan and Hannah both wanted to be in Hufflepuff and threw Ron angry
looks when he laughed at them for it. He soon apologised and launched into his family
history and why he wanted to be in Gryffindor. They got Neville to admit that everyone
wanted him to be in Gryffindor, but he thought he would end up in Hufflepuff. When Hannah
immediately replied with “hey, at least you’ll already have friends in whichever of those you
end up in!” it made him smile.

Then everybody looked at Harry.

“I think the whole system is stupid.”

The expected loud protests, griping from Ron and concerned looks from Susan followed
immediately.

“Hear me out! We’re eleven. Whatever traits we show or value now will probably change
during the years we’re at Hogwarts anyway. And the whole house rivalry is the stupidest
thing about it. Why should I care which house my friends are in? Just because someone is a
bit different than you or has other opinions about things, doesn’t mean you can’t get along.
Stupid, like I said.”
“You’d make a good Hufflepuff”, said Hannah. “That’s a very tolerant outlook on the world.”

“He could be Ravenclaw too. After all he did that spell nobody knew”, chimed in Hermione.

“It was very Gryffindor to use a spell like that and then go off to find the toad, though”, was
Ron’s opinion on the whole matter. “And your parents were in Gryffindor too.”

“Case in point.” They looked at him blankly. “I showed traits of all houses. Why should I be
confined to one? That would just limit me, don’t you think? Why can’t I be smart and brave
and kind and ambitious?”

“Huh. You do have a point”, Susan admitted. “But the houses are also there to help you settle
in and form strong bonds with your housemates.”

“Aren’t we doing the same right here?”, he countered. “Should we stop talking to each other
just because some of us will end up in different houses? As long as you want to be my
friends, I’ll be your friend no matter which house you get sorted into.”

He was mostly looking at the three he had spent most of the ride with, but glanced at
Hermione and Neville too. The first looked pensive, the latter gave him a small smile.

“And anyway, I think I’ll probably be in Slytherin.”

That caused the next uproar, which was more difficult to quell this time – mostly because
Ron was cursing in very colourful language from a repertoire that only someone who grew
up with five older brothers could have.

“Slytherin? But you’re Harry Potter!”

“Harry Evans-Potter, actually. I changed my name because I live with my aunt.”

That made Ron sputter, more and more red slowly spreading across his face.

“I am very ambitious after all. I’m not one to sit on the side lines when I could change things.
Like the squib discussion we had earlier. I’m going to fight for my cousin’s right to be part of
the magical world. And I’ll fight the house system if I have to.”

“But Slytherin is dark! The dark lord was from there! How could you stand it there?!”

Harry shrugged. “The man who betrayed my parents was in Gryffindor. Should I hate the
whole house because of it?”

More sputtering on Ron’s part was the answer, though the others seemed to be thinking about
it a bit more. Ron, however, didn’t think.

“But they’re all children of Death Eaters there! They’d probably hex you in the back
whenever they can. You can’t go there; they’ll kill you! And they’re all stuck-up rich
purebloods too.”
The anger was back and Harry wasn’t sure he could beat it into submission this time. Alright,
Ron had a few points and if he did end up in Slytherin, it wouldn’t be easy. Not by a long
shot. But the idea behind the house, the original values… that was something Harry could get
behind. He opened his mouth to argue back-

A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time.
Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

“I think you should go to the loo and change, Ron”, Hannah said into the sudden silence.
“You’re the only one not in your school robes yet.”

Ron grumbled a bit, but pulled some crumbled black robes out of his trunk and then left the
compartment. The silence he left behind felt a bit less companionable than before.

“I meant it, though.” Harry found himself almost whispering. “Wherever we end up, I’d
really like to talk to you like we did the last few hours. I know we’ve known each other for
less than a day, but I think we could become really great friends, you know?”

Susan gave him a kind smile. “I also think that’s a good idea.” Hannah and Neville nodded,
Hermione still looked lost in thought and Harry felt a tiny bit better.

Ron didn’t show up again and Harry only caught a glimpse of red hair in the sea of first years
surrounding Hagrid before he disappeared again in the crowd – which was definitely
deliberate because Ron was taller than most of them.

It was Susan who said “I’ll go talk to him” and slipped into the throng people as well. That
left Hannah, Hermione, Neville and Harry to stumble along the dark and slippery path to the
boats, Hannah catching Trevor before he could escape again.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called.

Could you miss someone you’d never even met? Yes, you could, Harry decided. He’d have to
find a way to meet Hagrid again. Suspecting that Dumbledore would use him to get Harry on
the track of the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry figured it would probably be easy.

With a shouted command the boats began to move. And suddenly, there was Hogwarts. The
friendly lights blinking from the turrets were reflected in the mirror-like lake they were
gliding across. The castle itself towered over all of them, but instead of being intimidated,
Harry felt a deep-seated warmth in his chest that felt like coming home. Yes, his home was
Privet Drive, but he had been dreaming about Hogwarts for over two years now. It didn’t
matter that all those dark things had happened here, his future self had loved Hogwarts as
much as you could love anything and at times it had felt like Hogwarts returned that feeling.
The closer they got to the cliff, the more Harry had to crane his neck to continue looking up
at the castle.

“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid.

Everyone bent their heads and Harry lifted his hands to push away the ivy curtain the boats
were driving through. He wondered why they never saw this tunnel again after arriving at
Hogwarts and whether it was close to the chamber of secrets at all. When they reached the
underground harbour, he offered his hand to Hermione to help her out of the boat while
Neville copied him to do the same for Hannah. Wearing a skirt as part of your school uniform
seemed impractical at times, especially when faced with slippery boats and pebble-covered
ground. Hannah caught Trevor yet again when he tried to escape, then re-fastened Neville’s
cloak which had slipped to the side. They all joined the small group of first-years that was
standing around, looking slightly wary.

Hagrid soon led them up a small staircase hewn into the rocky side of the cliff until they
stumbled out right onto a patch of grass next to the castle doors. Harry looked around for Ron
and Susan, but couldn’t see them in the sea of black robes.

“Everyone here?”, Hagrid asked.

After looking over the small group of students and nodding once, there were three booming
thumps as he knocked and the door swung open.

They were greeted by Professor McGonagall. She was wearing robes the same colour as the
dress she had worn during her visit to Privet Drive, so Harry thought it might have been
transfigured. Or she just liked the colour. It did go well with her black hair, even if emerald
green seemed more like a Slytherin colour in hindsight.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

Harry forced himself to focus so he wouldn’t miss any more of the conversation. He found
himself staying close to Neville and Hannah anyway. While Hogwarts felt like home, the
huge entrance hall still made him feel a bit lost and longing for his small room at Privet
Drive. The voices of all the students waiting in the Great Hall were echoing from the flagged
stone floor and Harry was glad when they were led into a smaller antechamber.

“The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be
something like your family within Hogwarts”, said Professor McGonagall. “You will have
classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in
your house common room.”

Family. Harry almost snorted. He couldn’t even count the times his supposed Gryffindor
family had turned against him. In first year, when they had lost all the points. That could have
maybe been forgiven. But then there was the Parseltongue incident in his second year. The
tournament in his fourth. The ministry propaganda in his fifth. Then bugging him about being
the Chosen One in his sixth… And while he preached second chances for everyone, Harry
felt that he deserved better this time around – or at least something different.

“I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting
Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all
smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”
She eyed the first-years critically, but apparently couldn’t find any urgent faults. Even
Harry’s hair, now long enough to pull back into a low ponytail, looked far less scruffy than it
ever had in his memories.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”
She left the chamber.

Neville next to him was chalk-white by now and clutching Trevor maybe a bit too tightly to
his chest.

“It’ll be fine, Neville. Remember, whatever house you end up in, there’ll be someone you
know. And even if you don’t, just come sit next to me anyway”, Harry offered.

“Or me”, Hannah chimed in. “I’m sure I’ll be in Hufflepuff and they shouldn’t be mad about
me being friendly with someone from a different house. That would be very un-Hufflepuff
after all.” She winked and Neville managed a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Besides, I have to be far more nervous than you. I’ll be sorted first, after all.”

There was a slight waver in her voice that belied the humour and Harry automatically reached
for her hand. “You’ll be just fine, I promise.”

Next to them, Hermione was whispering all the spells she knew under her breath until Harry
grabbed her hand as well. “Hermione.”

She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“It will be fine. You’re not going to need those spells. You’re enough just as you are.”

Harry thought he might have overstepped, but soon felt Hermione squeezing his hand in
thanks and although she still looked scared beyond belief, she had stopped muttering spells.

Several people screaming almost had his hands squeezed to a pulp when the ghosts came
through the back wall, arguing about Peeves. Harry tuned them out and instead whispered
more reassurances to Neville who looked quite white again.

Soon enough, McGonagall returned, had them form a line and led them into the Great Hall.
He had seen this in his memories too and knew that, after a certain point, eating their food in
here, studying at the tables or just sitting and talking would be their new norm. But seeing it
lit up by thousands of candles, all eyes turned on them, the golden plates glittering in the light
and even the professors watching them like hawks, Harry couldn’t help but be in awe. And
yes, scared enough to find comfort in the fact that he was still holding Hannah’s and
Hermione’s hands.

Hermione wasn’t scared enough to not comment on the enchanted ceiling, though, which
made Harry smile and relax. He almost missed the four-legged stool and hat being placed at
the front of the hall. Even the hat looked less dirty than it had in his memories.
The song was the same, at least. When everyone applauded, though, Harry almost couldn’t
hear it over the rushing in his ears. This was it. The first major thing he would change in the
wizarding world. Because he sure as hell wouldn’t let the hat sort him into Gryffindor. But
where would he go? He could give reasons for all the other three houses, if he was being
honest.

To distract himself, he glanced at the staff table. There was Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling
while he looked over the newest group of students that would grace Hogwarts’ halls. When
his eyes turned towards him, Harry quickly moved on. There was Professor Snape, who
seemed to be staring at everyone but him. Quirrel sat right next to him and was scanning the
first years and Harry suddenly decided he didn’t need a distraction quite badly enough to look
Voldemort in the eyes, thank you very much.

“Abbott, Hannah!”, came the sudden shout from McGonagall.

Harry squeezed her hand once more for good measure before letting her square her shoulders
and walk up to the front. The hat slipped down far enough to cover most of her pigtails, but
took only a moment to shout “HUFFLEPUFF!”. Harry let go of Hermione’s hand to applaud
loudly, then slipped it back after she shot him a nervous look. He still had one hand left to
return the gesture when Hannah waved merrily at them from her new house table.

“Bones, Susan!”

Susan stepped out of the line somewhere behind them and Harry craned his neck to see red
hair. There were too many students between them, however. Susan smiled at them while
walking past but was soon sitting on the stool. The hat took no longer than before.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

She immediately joined Hannah and the two started introducing themselves to the students
around them.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCAW!”

He had never had much to do with Terry Boot, if he remembered correctly. Not with Mandy
Brocklehurst either, and he could have been more interested in Lavender Brown; after all she
had been his best friend’s girlfriend for a few months. Millicent Bulstrode was another case
of missed opportunities. She had kept to herself a lot, even from the other Slytherin girls. If
she had come up in conversation, it was mostly to make fun of her less feminine statue and
features, which left a burning feeling of shame in his gut.

The more names were called, the more nervous Harry became. Had McGonagall listened and
included his name change? Would he be called before Justin, or was his name still down as
Harry Potter? He pressed Hermione’s hand once more just in case, then took a deep breath.

“Evans-Potter, Harry!”
 There was a kaleidoscope of reactions to that announcement. Dumbledore’s eyes went a little
wide, which made him think McGonagall had not informed him or asked permission to put
him with the Es. Snape’s head whipped around so fast his hair was still swinging wildly when
his eyes settled on him for the first time, though Harry was looking slightly to the side to
avoid eye-contact. There was a flurry of whispers rising from four different tables, slowly
getting louder as he started walking with Hermione’s whispered “good luck, Harry” ringing
in his ears.

“Potter? Harry Potter?”, some Hufflepuffs were saying right next to him.

“Why Evans? Was he adopted?”

“Wasn’t that his mother’s maiden name?”

“Harry Potter?”

There were some venomous looks from the Slytherin table as well that Harry tuned out for
self-preservation. He was almost glad when he arrived at the front to give Professor
McGonagall a wavering half-smile and received one in return before she dropped the hat over
his eyes and he didn’t have to see all the staring people anymore.

Time to face the truth, whatever shape it might take.

Chapter End Notes

I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger. I really am. But during the last bit of editing I
separated a chapter and tagged the first half onto this one and the second to the one after.
So you theoretically get more than you would have, if that's any consolation.

Small note about Ron: this is not a Ron bashing fic, even if it might seem so at times. I
really like him as a character, but he's got a bit of growing up to do before he can stop
clashing with Harry and his opinions. He's not the least prejudiced person where
Slytherin is concerned...
And on that note - there should be no characters that are presented as perfect. They all
have their little quirks and issues (sometimes directly from canon, sometimes blown up
in proportion a bit or a light shone on them) and that's as it should be. Would be boring
otherwise.
 Let the games begin
Chapter Summary

The sorting hat has a blast. Harry maybe less so.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

There was a second of blessed darkness and silence, then there was pressure on his
occlumency shields.

Harry scrambled to strengthen them, panic rising in him and spilling throughout his body
while he frantically tried to figure out whether it was Dumbledore, Snape, or Quirrell
attacking him – until he realised his mistake. He lowered his outer layer.

“Hello?”, he asked.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get an in for half a minute now!”, a grumpy voice said in his ear
– though Harry suspected now it was more likely the hat was talking in his mind. “Impressive
occlumency barriers for one so young, I must admit.”

“Er, thanks. I guess.”

“…you do have to lower them completely for me to sort you…”

Harry blanched and was sure he was grimacing. He soon wiped that off his face. No need to
worry the whole school.

“…do I have to?”

He wasn’t sure when he had started to leave some shields up most of the time, but had
figured it was good practice for being in the presence of the three greatest legilimens of their
time. Dropping them now, even for the sorting hat, made him feel almost naked.

“But of course!”

Harry thought for a few seconds. “Do you swear to tell nobody else what you see in my
mind? I mean it, I’m not doing it otherwise.”

The hat huffed. “But of course. I keep all students’ secrets, no matter what they have seen or
done or think. It’s my job to sort, not to tattle to the headmasters. Now go on boy, I don’t
have all da…”

There was a slight pause when Harry lowered his shields all at once.
“Oh.”

Harry could feel bronze-brown tendrils enter his mind further and look at his memories. First,
the outer layers, then the ones from his childhood, then the slightly blurry ones from dreams
and memories he kept deep deep down in his mind. They also lingered in front of the heavily
blocked door with the black monster, though they made no move to open it, much to Harry’s
relief.

“Oh”, the hat repeated. “I understand your reluctance now. How fascinating.”

“If you’ve got any idea how this happened in the first place, I’m willing to listen. I woke up
one morning and had all these weird memories. I’ve been trying my best to make sense of
them and make things better since then, but… Why me? Why then? And how? Just… why?”

The hat “hmm”ed in his ear and Harry watched him sort through more of the Battle of
Hogwarts. “I’m sorry to say that I have no idea why or how. As to why you – maybe you
were the best candidate to change things, as a lot of them were centred around you? That
would be my best guess, at least.”

Harry huffed and fought the urge to cross his arms. “And here was me hoping someone with
thousands of years of experience might be able to help.”

The hat tutted. “I may have existed for a thousand years and seen my share of things while
sitting in the headmasters’ office, but I am worn mostly by 11-year-olds. There is a limit to
what kind of magical knowledge I pick up.”

Harry managed to convey a shrug via his thoughts. “Fair. So. About that sorting.”

“Ah, yes. I got a bit lost in your thoughts.”

“Harhar.”

“I found that exceedingly funny.”

Harry didn’t grace that with an answer and instead projected a patiently waiting sort of mood
at the hat.

“Alright, alright. Mmh. What do you think, then?”

He couldn't help but think that his choice to go to Gryffindor in his last life had been correct.
With his foolish recklessness he fit there perfectly, and his only ambition being a normal life,
that didn't seem very Slytherin at all. Now, however...

“I tend to agree, however much it pains me to say you’re right. You would have done well in
Slytherin, of that I’m still sure, but Gryffindor was a good fit.”

“Until they all turned against me.”

Feeling the hat shrug in his mind was a very strange experience, especially as it had no arms
to do so. “I never said they’d all support you. And you still have plenty of courage. More
courage in your little finger than some Gryffindors have in their whole body.”

And there was the conundrum he was facing.

“Thinking about being in Hufflepuff, are you? I can see it.” The hat went through the
memories of Harry helping Petunia and Dudley become different people, his afternoons with
his taekwondo friends, his decision to go back to Hogwarts to save people, his ride on the
train… “Yes, very loyal. And hard-working too. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone breeze
through so much material and practice that intensively as you have in the last two years. That
would also qualify you for Ravenclaw, though.”

“Also an option. Though I don’t learn for knowledge’s sake, but because I want to achieve
my goals.”

“Ah, yes. Your ambitions. How very Slytherin of you.”

“Not to mention my parsel ability, snake familiar and…” There was that knowledge again,
that dark tendril thing at the back of his mind that he was sure had something to do with
Voldemort and may have influenced the hat’s wish for Slytherin last time, but Harry pushed it
down. (Look at it!)

The hat sighed. “You should really look at that memory soon. I’ve picked up enough from
your thoughts to know you’ve mostly figured it out and are simply refusing to look closer.
It’s going to come back to haunt you at a very inopportune moment”, it promised.

“I’ve got other problems right now.”

“Fair enough. Which brings us back to…”

The houses, yes. Harry couldn’t help but curse the founders for coming up with this
ridiculous system in the first place. Separating children, what a bogus idea. Of course it
would lead to bullying and prejudice and…

“Now, now, that was not their intention”, the hat said.

“If it’s the result, is it any better?”

“Humph.”

Harry sighed. “Well. What do you think?”

"I see your previous life has been quite the Gryffindor one, so maybe you were right in your
choice after all. However, things seem to have changed.”

Yes, they had. Quite drastically. Not only his circumstances at home, but Harry himself had
changed as well. Whether that was because of the new memories or because he had become
much more self-assured, he wasn’t sure.

If he took the easy route, he would join Hufflepuff. He already had some friends there. He
could make a few more. He would be immediately accepted into the house and him being a
lowly Hufflepuff would be mitigated by him being Harry Potter. He might even be able to
drag the house into the spotlight for once, which it deserved, in his opinion. Having Professor
Sprout as a head of house would also be nice. But it would take forever to get people to take
him seriously and the Slytherins would never see anything other than the yellow.

He could probably convince the hat to put him in Ravenclaw like he had convinced it about
Gryffindor in his last life. He would do well there too, he was sure. He would be respected
more easily, maybe even admired. He could be a prodigy in peace, maybe even get the
respect of the Slytherins in time. It was the balanced option that would give him the best of
everything. But it just didn’t feel right; it didn’t feel like him. He was no Ravenclaw and
would forever feel out of place in that house.

Then there was Slytherin. The most difficult and most fitting option by far. Some of the
Slytherins would be drawn in by his fame, some by his heirship, some by his aptitude for
magic. A lot of them would hate him. For his defeat of the Dark Lord. For his half-blood
status. For his fame. For his parents being Gryffindors. For his views. The list was endless,
really, and Harry knew he would have to delve into the Dark Arts, if only to defend himself.

It would be a slippery slope. He could lose himself, if he wasn’t careful. He had already
meddled with his relatives’ minds more than once and felt less and less remorse for it. He had
learned from Walburga Black. He had the brother wand to Voldemort, strolled through
Knockturn Alley as if it was nothing… Did that make him a Dark wizard?

“Dark and Light are rather arbitrary categories, don’t you think?”, the hat whispered in his
mind.

“Maybe. But there is still evil magic in this world and sometimes even that could look
tempting.”

“Maybe you have seen too much for an 11-year-old.”

Harry smiled wryly. “Even in my memories I never got to be a normal 11-year-old, let alone a
normal child. What’s new.”

“You could be. In Hufflepuff it would be easy to give yourself what you have longed for.
They’d accept you for who you are. You could make them great in return.”

“If I sacrifice some of my goals for it, yes. Because while the Slytherins would never truly
accept a Hufflepuff, they’ll despise me at first in Slytherin, but I would be a Slytherin. And
they would respect me eventually.” He thought back to Walburga’s words. “Even if I have to
make them. And Voldemort wouldn’t leave me in peace anyway.”

“Maybe that is the real question then. If you choose Hufflepuff, you choose friendship and
companionship, being nice and good and kind. And if you choose Slytherin, you choose your
ambition and cunning and the darkness that lurks in your heart, whatever purpose you will
use it for.”

So it was up to him after all. “Aren’t you going to decide for me?”
“I can see value in both houses. And honestly, by now you’re a hat-stall anyway.”

That made Harry let loose a colourful string of words in his mind that had the hat chuckling.

“Forgot that this conversation isn’t taking place in a vacuum, did you?”

“As if I need any more attention.” Harry sighed. “Ugh. What on earth will I do?”

The hat was silent for a second. “You made some interesting decisions in your last life and
although the outcome wasn’t perfect, you did the best you could with what you were given.
Don’t be too hard on your past self.” It hesitated again. “That being said… Dare I ask what
your plans are for this new chance?"

Harry thought about that one for a bit. "Restore magical traditions, redefine magical
categories, have squibs and muggleborns integrated into this world, annoy Dumbledore as
much as possible, kill Voldemort... Oh, and I'm going to drag the wizarding world into the
next century. Kicking and screaming if I have to."

Damn. There really was only one option, wasn’t there. But who said he couldn’t take some
traits from the other houses with him?

There was a mad cackle and the words "now this I've got to see" echoing in his mind before
the hat finally opened its brim.

"SLYTHERIN!"

And in his mind "but please don't scare the little snakes too much".

Harry smiled once more, put his occlumency shields back in place, then took the hat off to a
completely silent hall. He ignored it for now and instead held the hat out to a stricken
Professor McGonagall. When she just stared at him open-mouthed, arms hanging limply at
her sides, he shrugged, put it back on the stool before facing the music.

The staff table was also shocked silent. The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes had disappeared
and he was clutching at his goblet as if it was the only thing tethering him to the table. Harry
tightened his mind shields, but didn’t feel as much as a stray thought brushing past them. The
rest of the teachers were spouting a mix of confused, shocked and suspicious faces, the latter
hurting the most because it was the category Hagrid belonged in.

Snape’s mouth was hanging open as well and Harry might have laughed if he wasn’t so
scared his now head-of-house would scalp him for that more than for being sorted into
Slytherin in the first place. He was sure the potions professor would have pulled a
McGonagall and spit any drink across the whole table if he’d had the misfortune of drinking
when the hat called out his decision. The thinly veiled horror behind his eyes made Harry
both giddy and let dread seep through his body.

The only one who showed something other than surprise was Quirrel, who had a look of
calculation in his eyes that sent shivers down Harry’s spine.

When he turned around to walk to the Slytherin table, the whispers started up again.
“…Slytherin?”

“How can he be…”

“…next Dark Lord?”

“Harry Potter is…”

“…can’t believe…”

“Slytherin?!”

He had almost made it halfway down the tables when someone started clapping. Two
someones, Harry noticed when he turned around to lock eyes with Susan and Hannah at the
Hufflepuff table. They continued clapping against the speculation and rumours spreading
from table to table until, finally, the rest of Hufflepuff joined them. Then Hermione and
Neville still standing in line along with most of the other first years. Then the Ravenclaw
table.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins stayed suspiciously silent, but Harry still sent his friends a
relieved smile before sitting down and locking his occlumency barriers as tight as they would
go.

Game on.

There were only three first year Slytherins apart from him and Harry sat down next to Tracey
Davis for now. Vincent Crabbe was sitting on the opposite side, Millicent Bulstrode one over
from Harry. He figured he’d leave room for Goyle next to Crabbe and, most likely, Malfoy
right after him.

Tracey Davis looked at him wide-eyed and shuffled in her seat, as if she thought about
moving away from him, but stayed put. Well then. He had his work cut out for him.

The table stayed quiet for now, though there were some whispered conversations, towards the
head of the table where the older years were sitting, accompanied by glares. Those who
remembered the war. Those whose parents had ended up in Azkaban when Voldemort fell.

Yes, this was going to be difficult. But if he could change Dudley’s and Petunia’s minds, a
bunch of Slytherins shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

Harry clapped politely for the next couple of students, then a bit louder for Gregory Goyle,
who soon sat down next to Crabbe and proceeded to stare at Harry. And stare. And stare.
Harry decided ignoring him would be in his best interest for now.

Then…

“Granger, Hermione!”

Bushy hair moved along the waiting line of students and Hermione sat down on the stool
eagerly. Her hands were still shaking slightly until she clasped them together in her lap and
straightened her spine. Maybe it was just excitement.

Harry got a short taste of what it must have been like for the others to wait for his sorting as
the minutes ticked by and the only thing you could see was Hermione’s mouth moving
silently. In his last life she had eventually admitted that the hat had been torn between
Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Neither Ron nor him had been all that surprised.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

After about four minutes, Harry finally got to clap particularly loudly for Hermione. The
Slytherins surrounding him sent him wary looks, but Harry still smiled at her when she
moved towards the Gryffindor table and got a small smile in return.

Daphne Greengrass was next and after sorting Slytherin and staring between Harry and Goyle
for a few exasperated seconds, she seemed to decide he was the lesser evil and sat down next
to Harry with a huff. There followed a few students Harry didn’t remember ever hearing of,
then…

“Longbottom, Neville!”

Neville still stumbled on his way to the stool, but barely managed to keep his balance. The
hat took almost as long as with Hermione, but finally made him a Gryffindor. If Neville
looked a bit put-off by it, Harry wasn’t sure anyone else noticed. There were huge cheers
coming from the Gryffindor table – Hermione – and Susan and Hannah were applauding
wildly once again. Harry had some hope they could continue becoming friends after all.
Though the Slytherins were giving him darker and darker looks.

The next Slytherin to be sorted was Draco Malfoy, who swaggered his way to the front. It
may have been Harry’s imagination, but he could have sworn he saw the Malfoy heir glance
his way for a second before taking a seat on the stool. The hat barely touched his hair when it
screamed Slytherin and a very smug-looking boy was walking up to the table. He, too, eyed
the seating arrangements, then sat next to Goyle.

His eyes kept flickering to Harry, but he seemed to wait until the sorting was over, which
suited Harry just fine. He was soon distracted anyway when the Bloody Baron deigned to sit
down right next to him and Draco had trouble staying clear of the Slytherin ghost.

Lily Moon, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson joined the Slytherin table, while the Patil
twins were separated into Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. That must have been difficult, Harry
thought. As much a chance as a liability. If he had grown up sharing everything with
someone else, would he be relieved to be doing something different for once, or scared
shitless? Maybe both.

As the number of students dwindled down, Harry finally spotted Ron who could no longer
hide between others. He was a mixture of pasty green and angry red, switching between
whether he was looking at the hat or sneaking glances at Harry. He was soon called up and
the hat dropped onto his red mane.
It opened its brim wide, then paused for a moment. Harry just caught the confused
expressions of Fred and George who had let out a premature whoop from the Gryffindor
table, then looked back at Ron. Now he was definitely more pasty white than anything else.
There was a tense silence in the hall as even Percy began to look upset and the twins
exchanged one disturbed glance after the other. Malfoy looked positively giddy and had
started grinning wildly, while Harry found himself confused for the first time.

What the hell?

He was sure their little spat on the train would strengthen Ron’s wish to be Gryffindor, if
anything. Or maybe the hat… no, surely not. He would still judge people on their own merits
and Ron had made Gryffindor easily the first time.

What had changed?

Ron was mumbling something under his breath and Harry silently added “learn lip reading”
to his ever-growing to do list. That could be useful in many situations, he decided, though it
was sadly too late for this one.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding and started clapping loudly. Ron
may have been a git, but there were still all these memories that made him hope they could be
at least acquaintances, if not friends. He was drowned out by the twins shouting “We got
Ron! We got Ron!” anyway and could see Percy congratulating a relieved Ron – though his
smile looked slightly forced.

“Zabini, Blaise” was consequently made a Slytherin and sat down next to Theodore Nott.

There was a slight pause as McGonagall carried off the sorting hat, then Albus Dumbledore
got off his ridiculous golden chair. He was beaming at the students, eyes twinkling, though
Harry was sure there was a tenseness at the corners of his mouth and his eyes drifted towards
Slytherin more often than any other table.

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I
would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank
you!” He sat back down.

The other tables clapped and cheered. Harry just scrunched up his nose and managed a few
half-hearted claps, then waited for everybody to finish.

“Not a fan of Dumbledore then?”, asked Blaise Zabini with a sneer. He sat slightly across
from Harry and he had to turn to the side to answer the boy.

“Not really.”

“Why?” There was true curiosity in his voice, though the sharpness in his eyes remained.

Harry paused for a few seconds, then let a smirk appear on his lips. “Now that would be
telling, wouldn’t it?”
The table suddenly filled with food and Harry nonchalantly started loading his plate with
roast chicken, lamb chops some potatoes and lots of vegetables, ignoring the stares that were
suddenly levelled at him. Harry eyed the Gryffindor table when there was a slight
commotion, but that was only because someone had challenged Sir Nicholas to remove his
head.

“So… the famous Harry Potter was a hat stall”, Zabini continued.

“Evans-Potter.” Harry continued to munch on his potatoes, though he kept sneaking glances
at Zabini, who was struggling to keep the surprise off his face.

“Evans-Potter”, he finally managed. “…which houses did the hat contemplate?”

Harry paused once more, as if to think about that question. “All of them, actually. Now are
you going to let me eat in peace?” Harry had been practicing how to lift just one eyebrow and
was very pleased with himself when he managed to do just that.

“There must have been two it focused on. Come on, don’t leave a guy hanging!”

Harry just smirked and continued eating until Zabini deemed him a lost cause and focused on
his own food. Draco Malfoy was still sneaking glances at the Bloody Baron, while the girls
were sitting silently eating their food. Overall, it was a very uncomfortable atmosphere, not
helped by the whispers that sprang up again and again at the other tables with people looking
and even outright pointing at Harry. He was used to this, he told himself. He may not have
lived through it himself, but he knew which reactions the wizarding world had to him.

He managed to finish his plate without being bothered by anyone else, then braved the look
at the staff table, while loading it up with seconds.

Hagrid was frowning deeply and drowning his sorrows in whatever was in his goblet. Harry
doubted it was pumpkin juice. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore,
both sneaking glances at him every once in a while when they thought he wasn’t looking.
Professor Quirell was talking to Snape. Harry braced himself.

Then there it was. Sharp black eyes on his and a pressure on his mind shields. There was a
slight burning in his scar as well when Quirrel’s eyes joined Snape’s.

Harry let parts of the hat’s conversation drift across the forefront of his mind.

…more courage in your little finger than some Gryffindors have in their whole body – very
loyal. And hard-working too – …would also qualify you for Ravenclaw – ah, yes. Your
ambitions. How very Slytherin of you. He let out his satisfaction of being sorted into
Slytherin.

Now how to get them out of his mind again… Harry brought forth the memory of his cousin
proclaiming him a Slytherin and McGonagall spitting tea across Aunt Petunia’s living room
table.
He had timed it perfectly so that Snape, who had just taken a sip from his drink, suddenly
started coughing and Quirrell ended up hesitatingly patting his back. Eye-contact broken,
Harry smiled into his goblet as he took a sip of water himself. There was still loathing in
Snape’s eyes, but nothing he hadn’t expected. Quirrel was more concerning. The calculation
was hidden well, but Harry had many years of reading people and he had seen it anyways.

Snape didn’t look at him again, which Harry found almost disappointing, as he had the
memory of a disguised Dumbledore at Privet Drive cued up next.

“Evans-Potter…?” There was a barely noticeable smug note in Draco Malfoy’s voice, but he
had used his correct name, so Harry decided to ignore it.

“Yes?”

Malfoy seemed to gain courage from that and continued. “My name’s Malfoy. Draco
Malfoy.”

He reached over the table and even though it was slightly awkward with all the bowls of
food, Harry took it.

“Harry Evans-Potter. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Heir Malfoy.”

Theodore Nott stopped eating at that last part to watch the interaction wide-eyed. Some of the
older years, he noticed, had also started paying attention.

“So you’ve at least got proper manners then”, Draco said while Harry let go and and picked
up his fork to have something to do with his fingers.

“Oh I’ve had proper instruction, alright. No thanks to Dumbledore, of course. But I found a
way. Slytherins are resourceful, after all.” Let them make of that what they would.

Harry was looking past Malfoy at the two burly boys sitting on his right. “Oh yes. This is
Crabbe and Goyle.”

Harry nodded at them and got a short nod in return, which was probably the best he could
hope for. The others at the table pointedly looked at their food and Harry gave them up as a
lost cause. For now.

“Whatever other house the hat contemplated, you’ve made the right decision. Slytherin is the
best house by far. My family have been in Slytherin for generations!” He could have sworn
Malfoy’s chest puffed out a bit and Harry muffled a snort in his drink. “There are some
families you don’t want to be associated with and some people that are just not worth it,
you’ll soon find. I’m sure whoever taught you told you about it too, but if you need help
figuring it out, feel free to ask me. So you don’t accidentally make friends with the wrong
sort.”

Ah. He had almost forgotten what a snob Malfoy could be. There was a decision here. He
could make things easier for himself, agree and keep his friendships in Slytherin circles. But
he had decided long ago that he wasn’t going to take the easy route and he might as well
make it clear from the start.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. That doesn’t mean I’ll take that advice. I’ll make my
friends wherever I please.”

Malfoy seemed taken-aback by that answer, his smile faltering a little until it returned with a
vengeance that was obviously forced. Harry also noticed there was a dead quiet at the
Slytherin table, the only sound Harry’s fork scraping against his plate.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Evans-Potter,” he said slowly. “I’ve seen you with Abbott and
that Granger girl. That’s dangerous company right there.”

“I think I can take a little danger, but thank you for the warning.”

Harry didn’t look up, but could see a pale pink tinge appearing on Malfoy’s cheeks out of the
corners of his eyes.

“Unless you choose your company more wisely, you’ll go the same way as your parents.
They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like them,
and it’ll rub off on you.”

Harry looked up, then tilted his head to the side. Malfoy started fidgeting slightly until he
caught himself and forced himself still. There was a choice here too. He could take the high
road and simply ignore that slight against his parents. That also left open the option that the
other Slytherins might interpret this as him not approving of his parents’ choices after all and
giving him a little leeway to settle in.

But.

Even though he had never met his parents and had only (really) known Susan and Hermione
for a day, biting hot anger filled his chest. This was probably a stupid idea. Scratch that, this
was definitely a stupid idea.

“It seems to me that my parents weren’t the only ones who were keeping dangerous company
during the war. Tell me again how your father was imperiused by the Dark Lord?” His voice
was light on the surface, but he knew everyone at the table would detect the sharp edge
below.

There was a gasp somewhere along the table, but Harry kept looking at Malfoy whose eyes
had gone wide. It would be so easy to enter his mind, to scare him even more. To once and
for all know that Lucius Malfoy had been a Death Eater, from his own son’s thoughts, and
hold it over their heads.

He continued to stare Malfoy into oblivion instead, watching with faint curiosity as the red
spread from his cheeks to his ears.

“Take that back.”

“If you take back what you said about my parents.” Harry gave a sharp grin, then took
another bite of chicken, calm as you please.

Malfoy pressed his lips together and remained silent, so Harry shrugged and continued
eating. There was some more whispering along the Slytherin table, but he ignored it until he
had finished his plate, then looked around the Great Hall until the bowls emptied and dessert
took their place. He decided a light bowl of fruit was probably the best option if he wanted
less of a risk of losing his dinner during whatever was going to happen in the common room.
He was starting to feel a little queasy anyway. Not that he let anyone else notice.

When the desserts disappeared and Dumbledore got up, Harry groaned and plonked his head
on the table. Merlin, please no.

He warned the Weasley twins away from the forbidden forest – as if that would do any good.
He warned everyone away from the third floor, though Harry was sure the headmaster’s eyes
flashed in his direction. That wasn’t ominous at all. Most of the Slytherins exchanged
meaningful glances.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

Please no.

Harry plonked his head back down and heard a snicker he was sure came from Zabini. When
peeking through the loose strands of hair falling into his eyes, he saw the pained expression
on Nott’s face. Catching his eye, they both grimaced at the same time, then shared a shy
smile. Nott frowned immediately and turned away, but Harry thought there might be potential
anyway.

“Everyone pick their favourite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

He sighed and peeked out again. Most of the Slytherins looked disgruntled and Harry
couldn’t hold a tune for the life of him, but… might as well.

He took a last breath, then started belting out the Hogwarts school song to the melody of God
Save the Queen. Some Slytherins spun around to stare at him and Zabini, who was loudly
singing what Harry was very sure was A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love started grinning
at him madly. The Weasley twins were the last ones with their funeral song, then suddenly
they were shuffled off to bed, following two prefects Harry had only vague memories of.

While he was exhausted, he was more alert than he had been all day. Especially the older
Slytherins were eyeing him in a way that made him very wary and he had poked at his sleeve
where Mehen was hiding too, so the snake could keep an eye out covertly after he had cast a
notice-me-not with his crystal necklace.

“Follow me! Come on, keep up. It’s a long way to the dungeons!”, shouted the prefect who
was leading them.

Harry manoeuvred himself closer to the front. If anything, people should be less likely to be
dumb in front of a prefect. They were marched down multiple sets of staircases, some
pathways hidden behind tapestries and doors that looked like normal pieces of wall… Harry
already had a good idea of Hogwarts’ rooms and hallways but still tried to keep track of
everything as well as he could.

They ended up in front of a bare wall in a seemingly random corridor. Harry knew better, of
course, so he wasn’t at all surprised when the prefect stopped in front of it and said the
password.

“Aconitum.”

At least that explained one of Snape’s potions questions.

The concealed stone door slid to the side with a sort of scratching sound and they marched
through. Harry was walking next to Zabini, who hadn’t made any attempts at conversation so
far. Soon they were standing in the long room with rough-hewn stone walls that had a slight
green glow. During the day it would come from the lake that was behind the windows, but at
night it came from the lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling and giving off a greenish-
tinted light.

In his memories, the common room had been foreboding and cold, but now Harry thought
that may have been more due to the mood they had all been in – having just consumed an
illegal potion and all that. The closer he looked, the more the apparently rough stone turned
out to be intricately carved with designs, nowhere more-so than the fireplace. Harry couldn’t
make it out from here, but could hazard a guess what the carvings were. It housed a crackling
fire, spreading warmth throughout the whole room even though it should have only warmed
the space closer to it. There were high-backed chairs arranged in neat little groups, sometimes
with coffee tables or desk-like tables next to them.

The female Slytherin prefect spun around on the spot to face the now assembled group of
first-years who were looking around wide-eyed. Some older Slytherins were using the
armchairs and more students were streaming through the door in small groups. Most of them
were staring at their group and Harry pushed down the self-conscious feeling.

“Welcome to Slytherin! This will be your home and family during your time at Hogwarts,
and if you play your cards right, even afterwards.” There was some muttering that died out
pretty quickly. “My name is Gemma Farley and I’m one of the fifth year prefects. My male
counterpart is Roark Donoghue; he’s going to lead everyone who is in the common room at 7
sharp to the Great Hall tomorrow morning.” She threw a piercing glare at all of them.

Harry figured he’d see how things were going and make his way to breakfast alone, if
necessary. He was sure he’d be able to find his way alone. Whether he could manage to
dodge possible hostile Gryffindors was another matter.

“As you may have noticed, Slytherin is not well-liked. There are certain prejudices against
our house that often lead to confrontations and some of the professors tend to look the other
way. I implore you to walk around in groups of at least three until your second year at least,
when you learn simple shielding charms and other spells that may allow you to defend
yourself until an older Slytherin can come to your aid.”
The fact that Walburga Black had taught him was suddenly even more helpful than before.
She had not only taught him the shield charm, but low-key dark spells to defend himself with.
Who against… only time would tell.

“If you run into any trouble, let me or Donoghue know, or one of the older prefects. If the
situation is dire, you may reach out to Professor Snape. But keep in mind that he doesn’t like
to be disturbed, so if you bother him with something unimportant, you may wish to have
dealt with the problem yourself.”

That sounded about right.

“The times for his office hour are on the bulletin board next to the entrance. This is also
where a new password to the common room will be posted every two weeks, so make sure to
look at it regularly. You can also post notices for study groups, flying teams or just general
questions there.

“Other than that: keep your grades up, don’t lose points and stay out of trouble - and if you
get into trouble, don't get caught. Anything else can wait for your later years.”

And that wasn’t ominous at all.

Gemma Farley showed the girls to their dorm first, then pointed the boys in the right
direction to theirs. Soon Harry was staring at a four-poster bed that looked very similar to the
one he’d had in Gryffindor; only the colour-scheme was different with an almost black wood
with Slytherin-green velvet curtains. His trunk was sitting in front of a bed right by the
window, which suited him just fine.

He put on some silk pyjamas, said goodnight to the rest of the room which was only returned
by two voices, then sat cross-legged on the mattress. Next, he used his crystal to spell the
curtains shut, silenced the whole area, put up some easy wards and finally let Mehen slither
out of his sleeve.

:Thanks. It was getting a bit stuffy in there.:

:Sorry. It was a very long day.:

His familiar flickered his tongue out. :So you’re a snake too now?:, he asked.

:What do you mean?:

His tongue did a flick again and he looked Harry up and down. :There’s snake magic on you.
Similar to what makes you able to talk to me.:

He couldn’t help himself and looked his body up and down. Not that it told him anything
about what Mehen may have seen. It was interesting, however. Had Salazar Slytherin placed
enchantments on his house? The common room? The sorting hat? That warranted some
research. Later.

:You can’t show yourself to anyone, Mehen. This is important. They don’t like me very much
in Slytherin at the moment and I’m scared someone might try to hurt you. Or they’ll tell
Dumbledore I have a snake familiar, which might get you taken away.:

Mehen was waving his head from side to side thoughtfully. :You mentioned that before. Fine.
I’ll stay hidden. But only if you carry me around often and let me out to hunt in the summer.:

:Deal.:

That had mostly been the plan anyway. As long as he could protect Mehen, he’d be able to
deal with anything else. And now that this was sorted, there was something else he had to do.

:What are you doing?: The snake booped the piece of paper with his nose.

:Writing to Dudley and Aunt Petunia. I promised to tell him immediately which house I’m in
and if I don’t, I already know there’ll be a letter tomorrow. Better to do it now.:

Mehen curled up on his lap while Harry tried to sum up his day as well as he could and
included his new house. His cousin would be thrilled. Why he had taken such a shine to
Slytherin was anyone’s guess, but Harry was almost relieved. At least there would be one
person who was happy about his sorting.

:Here we go. Stay out; I’ll try to get Hedwig to take my letter now. Otherwise, we’ll have to
get up early and go to the owlery.:

He peeked through his curtains and found most of the other beds also closed off. One that
contained the deeply sleeping hunk of either Crabbe or Goyle was open, but the snores
emanating from it told Harry it was probably safe.

The cold from the flagstones seeped into his bare feet immediately and he made a mental
note to find a way to put a permanent warming charm on Mehen. It didn’t help when he
pushed open the window to be greeted by cold night air. Luckily the first-year dorms were
one of the highest up. This way he at least wasn’t greeted by a surge of lake water.

For a moment he thought about how to possibly get Hedwig here. Calling her might work, if
she was waiting around for him like he had told her to, but could possibly wake up his dorm
mates. Whistling had similar drawbacks. In the end, he decided to fling his magic out into the
night and hope for the best.

When, not a minute later, a dark shadow swooped down to sit on the window ledge, he let out
a relieved breath. That was one way of communicating, then.

“Hello, girl.”

She cooed at him, amber eyes wide. Harry gave her an owl treat he’d left out just for this
purpose, then tied his letter to her leg.

“Take this to Dudley and Petunia, please. I bet my cousin will wake up extra early tomorrow
morning to see if there’s any news, so if you want to be the one carrying his first message to
me, you’ll have to get there fast before he sends Smaug.”
 The hoot she gave him now had a distinctly displeased undertone that made Harry giggle
quietly.

“See you soon.”

She took off on silent wings and he watched her until she disappeared into the night before
sneaking back into bed. One way or another, the next day was bound to be exciting.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter is a bit early because I'm extremely busy the rest of the day. Somehow I
don't think you'll mind, though.
Next up: Harry plotting. As if that's a new state of being for him...
 Doubts setting in
Chapter Summary

It just had to be the most difficult option, didn’t it…

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry was up at the crack of dawn, which had the added bonus that he could shower in peace
without any of the other boys barging in. He wasn’t dumb enough to go to the common room
alone and instead waited for the rest to wake up while he went through what he wanted to put
in his satchel for today – which amounted to everything, just in case.

He had wanted to take his backpack, but Walburga had put her foot down and told him
absolutely not. It may have to do with the fact it was obviously muggle. Or maybe it was the
fact that when he had gotten (stolen) it from Dudley, it had been torn and broken and you
could still see where he had haphazardly sewn the straps back on. She had instead ordered
Kreacher to get Regulus’ old leather satchel, which had the advantage of being enchanted
with an extension charm on the inside. Harry hadn’t argued too much, especially when
Kreacher had started tearing up and muttered something about “the Young Master going off
to Hogwarts”.

That reminded him that he should probably write a letter to that duo as well. He got out his
quills and parchment for this one, though. He could probably call Kreacher to Hogwarts; after
all Dobby hadn’t been impeded by the wards before. But calling the Black house elf to the
Slytherin dorms and risking someone seeing him was probably not the best idea.

Now that he was less preoccupied with owls and protecting his bed, he could examine their
dorm a bit more closely. There were six beds, three on each side, most of them still obscured
by the curtains. Everybody’s trunk was sitting at the foot of their bed, though there was a
small closet right next to each one as well that probably had extension charms and would
easily hold all of his clothes. On the other side of the beds was one desk each, which was
different from the Gryffindor dorms, if Harry remembered correctly. This is where Harry was
soon sitting, composing his letter while waiting for the others.

Nott was the first to wake, just throwing him one indecipherable glance before trotting off to
the showers. Malfoy and Zabini were next and Harry could soon hear them bickering over
who got to use the big mirror. He was almost glad no product stayed in his rats’ nest of hair
and the only thing he could do to tame it was tie it down. Crabbe and Goyle woke last, but
needed the least time in the bathroom anyway, so they all found themselves in the common
room at ten to seven with more than enough time to wait for the prefect.
Apparently, others had the same idea, as a group of upper years had taken over the group of
chairs closest to the fire and was watching them descend the stairs. Their eyes immediately
focused on him and Harry nudged Mehen and flicked his wand out of its holster, keeping
both hidden in his sleeves.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a group of firsties”, a burly boy with dark brown hair said.

The others froze, though Harry noted that Nott seemed least surprised. He also stood a ways
away from the rest of them.

“And our new celebrity as well. A Potter in Slytherin. Harry Potter, nonetheless. Think the
sorting hat is going barmy?”

He was obviously the leader of the group as the others began to snicker on cue. Harry kept
his mouth shut, though the anger was already rising, not just at the wrong last name. (Not
now.) Snape would have a field day if he lost his temper on the very first day.

“Yes, I think it has to have been a mistake”, the boy continued. “Especially when he’s
obviously fond of mudbloods and blood traitors already.”

While Harry was focused on the group of older students, he still noticed the rest of his year
mates starting to distance themselves. They were standing to the side now, staring at anything
but him. Harry just sighed. This was how it was going to be, then.

“I don’t care about anybody’s parents. I judge people on their own merits”, he forced out in a
neutral tone, though he wanted to snap at them.

“Hear, hear. So you wouldn’t care if someone’s father had been, say, a Death Eater either?”
The boy’s eyes flickered to Malfoy and Nott.

“Of course not.” Harry tilted his head. “Only if people bring their parents into the
conversation.”

Some of the others murmured amongst themselves at that, but were soon silenced by the
burly boy. Harry didn’t want to take his eyes off the group enough to see what Malfoy’s
reaction to the whole conversation may be. He gripped his wand more tightly. There were
more Slytherins coming from the dormitories, though none interfered.

“You’re not a real Slytherin. And you won’t ever be a real Slytherin. If you had any sense of
self-preservation, after all, you never would have let the hat sort you here.”

Fair point, Harry had to concede. Or maybe it had just been arrogance to think he would be
able to handle the adversity. His heart had started racing some time ago and showed no sign
of stopping. Mehen was nudging his wrist; he could probably feel it too. But for the first time
the presence of his familiar just filled him with more dread. What if something happened to
Mehen? What if they started cursing him and his snake was hit?

“Whatever will the professors say when you can’t even make it to your first day of lessons?
Snape sure as hell won’t protect you.”
Fair point again. Snape may save his life if needed, but he would make sure it was as awful
as he could make it. Harry bent his knees slightly to shift his balance and tried to judge the
distance to the common room door.

The minions were laughing again, though some had also drawn their wands. Tellingly,
nobody else had, and his year mates were pretty much trying to blend in with the crowd. So
much for making friends.

“I have every intention of making it to my classes on time”, Harry said.

“As you’re all here, you’ll all make it to breakfast on time at least”, said Roark Donoghue
from somewhere in the back.

The tension in the atmosphere lessened considerably, though Harry still didn’t put his wand
away. The prefect had made his way through the crowd and was standing in front of the bully
with his arms crossed.

“Settle your differences some other time. I’m not going to be late because of you, Travers.
Rosier, Jugson, move it along.”

The only two other boys who had their wands out huffed and stepped back. That explained it
then. Harry recognised those names.

“Now.” Donoghue turned around to scan the crowd for the now scattered first years. “Let’s
get you to breakfast and then to your first class. Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

Harry hurried after him, not wanting to be left in the common room. He could hear the steps
of others behind him and figured the rest of his dorm and probably the girls had similar
feelings, albeit for slightly different reasons. He stuck close to Donoghue, but noticed nobody
dared to walk closer to him than two metres. Maybe more.

“That was dumb, kid”, Donoghue suddenly said. “You should have run.”

Harry shrugged. “Where to? It’s not like the rest of the school would treat me much better.”

“The unwritten rule is to have no in-house confrontations outside of the Slytherin dorms.
Might help you.”

“Thanks.”

The prefect huffed. “I just didn’t want the hassle of losing a first year on the first day of
school. Though your dumb bravery didn’t exactly help. Maybe you should’ve been in
Gryffindor.”

“I’d rather be in Hufflepuff”, said Harry.

“You’re a weird one.”

He just shrugged and followed along.

Harry’s thoughts soon turned to what on earth he was going to do about this. It was more than
obvious none of his house mates would back him; the prefects might but he wasn’t going to
count on that. And although he knew more spells than he probably should, it wouldn’t be
enough to survive direct confrontations with anyone higher up than second year, maybe third
or fourth if he was very very lucky and they underestimated him. And while he could try to
stay away from the Slytherin rooms most of the time, he’d have to traverse the common room
at least twice a day and he couldn’t wait until everyone had gone to bed because Snape would
definitely catch him, if only because he would keep an eye on his newest Slytherin for sure.

There weren’t many people in the hall left, so Harry could easily slip onto a place at the very
end of the Slytherin table. The others pointedly left half a dozen seats between them, which
Harry ignored in favour of breakfast. The sooner he finished eating, the sooner he could get
out of here before Travers could make his way to the Great Hall.

He resisted the urge to chug his milk and shovel down the scrambled eggs and bacon – he
was still a Slytherin and eating like a starving wolf would just give him more minus points in
everybody’s eyes. Still, by the time more of the older Slytherins made their way to breakfast,
Harry just had a second glass of milk standing in front of him, more for appearance’s sake
than anything else. He’d have left early, but he didn’t even know what class they had first, so
that was out of the question. That meant he was trying very hard not to tap his fingers on the
table or fidget with his tie.

Mehen was poised on his one arm, his other hand held his wand, while he watched his
surroundings like a hawk. The only time he even pretended to relax was when Hannah and
Susan entered the hall and waved at him before sitting down at the Hufflepuff table.

Travers and his group did show up eventually, but seeing Harry being shunned by the rest of
the house made them grin and move on.

It may have been the first time Harry was relieved to see Snape. The sour professor finally
made his way down the table, passing out time tables. By the time he made it to the first
years, everybody else was comparing their schedule and paying less attention to them. When
Snape saw Harry’s exile position at the table he lifted an eyebrow and eyed the divide
between him and his peers.

The only reaction he could discern was a tightening of his mouth like he was having trouble
keeping the smile off his face and a gleeful sparkle in his eyes. Harry wasn’t even
disappointed because he had expected nothing less. He did, however, get his schedule without
any further remarks.

With the worst danger passed for the moment, Harry found his senses tuning in to the rest of
the Hogwarts population – and immediately wished he hadn’t. While the Slytherins tried to
ignore him completely, everybody else seemed to be craning their necks to get a good look at
him. And seeing as he was sitting completely alone, that wasn’t too difficult. The whispering
went along the same lines as last night, with people speculating about his last name, his
sorting, his scar… He thought he’d been prepared. He had years worth of memories where
people gossiped freely about him. But experiencing it himself was somehow very different.
And, Harry decided, it sucked.
At least he managed to catch up to Susan and Hannah when it was finally time to get to their
shared first period class.

“Harry!” Hannah was smiling at him and while Susan did the same, there was a tinge of
worry in her eyes.

“Why were you sitting all alone?”, she asked, even when Hannah gruffly elbowed her side.

“Well, there was a bit of an incident in the common room and the others don’t want to be
seen with me right now.”

Her frown got more pronounced.

“But don’t worry. They’ll come around.”

“If you say so…” She didn’t seem convinced, but Harry puffed out a sigh of relief when she
changed the topic instead of insisting on this one. “Are you excited for our first Charms
lesson? I wonder if we’ll be doing any magic or just theory today.”

“Just theory”, chimed up Hannah. “I doubt we’ll do loads of spells in the very beginning.
Especially because the muggleborn witches and wizards will have to be brought up to speed.”
She shrugged. “I think it’s still interesting enough.”

Harry thought the most interesting thing that happened in that lesson was Professor Flitwick
tumbling off his pile of books while reading out his name during role call.

The day didn’t get much better because right afterwards they had History of Magic. Harry
tried to pay attention, he really did. He even asked Mehen to tighten around his arm
periodically. But Binns droning on about goblin wars didn’t inspire much excitement and he
soon found himself reading his History of Magic book instead. That should be enough to get
good grades anyway, especially when Dudley hadn’t been able to talk about anything else all
summer - except magical creatures, that was.

Lunch was a conundrum. When Harry tried to sit down at the Slytherin table, there were
suddenly bags on every seat he eyed and people scooting over to cover gaps in between
students. It hurt a bit, even though he had expected nothing else. Yesterday’s dinner may have
been awkward, but there had still been conversation and shared half-smiles. Now everybody
was looking away, or worse, was glaring at him.

In the end, Harry just shrugged and walked over to Susan and Hannah. “Mind if I sit with you
for lunch?” He eyed the Slytherin table again. “And maybe for dinner?”

“Sure!”

Susan was quick to scoot over and ignored the suspicious glances their group was getting
from some of the other Hufflepuffs. Harry sighed. It seemed even the house of badgers
wasn’t immune to prejudice. There were some more incredulous glances from the Ravenclaw
and, more so, the Gryffindor table. He would have asked to sit next to Neville, but the lions
were bound to be angrier at expecting the famous Harry Potter to be in their house and him
being sorted into their rival house, so he figured he would be pushing his hopefully friend too
much too soon.

“Alright, a short introduction round is in order!”, announced Susan. “You know Hannah, of
course. Then there’s Justin, next to him Ernie, Megan, Sally, Oliver, Wayne and Roger.”

Apart from Sally and Roger everyone waved at him or said a quick “Hello”, which made
Harry feel that things might be looking up after all.

“Nice to meet you all! I’m Harry. Evans-Potter”, he added and grinned at the last part. “I had
no idea me changing my name would generate that much outrage.”

There were some snickers as well as dropped jaws. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”,
asked Ernie MacMillan.

Harry paused for dramatic effect, then shrugged. “I grew up in the muggle world and only
found out I was a wizard a week before my eleventh birthday.”

More incredulous looks were levelled his way. “You… didn’t even know you were magic?”

“Well… I knew I was something. There were too many incidents to just write it off. And I did
find out some stuff about the magical world before I was officially told.”

“That’s just… so wrong.” That was Ernie again, who puffed up a bit. “If you have questions
about anything at all, feel free to ask me. I made the same offer to Justin. He’s muggleborn”,
he added.

Oliver, who hadn’t said much so far, tensed a bit, but Harry ignored it.

“Thank you! I’ll definitely come back to that if I can think of anything. But usually I pick up
things rather quickly. Besides, my cousin forced me to read through all of the books and my
aunt got lots of extra material for squibs too.”

“Squibs?” That was Justin. “What’s a squib?”

“My aunt and cousin are squibs, though they didn’t know it until they did the test at
Gringotts. It just means they have latent magic, more than a muggle, but not enough to be
allowed to go to Hogwarts. I’m going to teach my cousin some stuff anyway, like History of
Magic and Magical Theory, Herbology… there’s so much you can do without magic!”

There were more dropped jaws and Harry hid a smirk.

“…how exactly did you get sorted into Slytherin…?”, asked Megan.

“You tell me”, added Susan. “I was sure he was a shoe-in for Hufflepuff.”

“Oh, I have enough ambition to put the whole house of snakes to shame. My goals are just a
bit different from what they’re used to.”
Luckily, the food appeared at that moment and for a while everybody was distracted from the
conversation. It also lightened the atmosphere enough that, by the end of the meal, Harry was
joking with the Hufflepuffs like they were in the same house. They had settled on the topic of
accidental magic. Everybody was suitably impressed by his accidental apparition and Megan
ended up snorting pumpkin juice up her nose when Harry mentioned the blue wig and the
consequent fallout – though he left out the cupboard part. After that, everybody shared at
least one funny incident from their childhood.

Sharing Charms with the Hufflepuffs, he had been able to sit next to Hannah and Susan.
History was mostly an opportunity to catch up on sleep, so nobody paid much attention
anyway. Magical Theory was a different matter, though, and Harry was suddenly painfully
aware that this year of Slytherins had eleven students. And while Millicent Bulstrode looked
slightly put-off to be partnered with Goyle, nobody made a move to sit next to him.

All of his classmates had grown up in the wizarding world, so the first few lessons of magical
theory would be boring as hell. Every one of them already knew how the channeling of
magic worked, why potions ingredients had to be cut the way they were and why Charms and
Transfiguration were two different subjects in the first place and all the other things that were
useful for someone new to magic, but old news for everybody else. This was also something
Walburga had drilled into him in such a way that Harry could answer questions in his sleep.

In DADA he got a slight but persistent headache because while Quirrel was still a stuttering
mess, Harry could often feel the teacher staring at him with far more sharpness than fit his
persona. The garlic smell that permeated the whole room certainly didn’t help and Harry was
honestly tempted to gift the professor cologne to cover up the stench from having Voldemort
stuck to the back of his head – he deserved a break anyway. Sharing a body with the Dark
Lord couldn’t be fun.

The end of lessons for the day left Harry with a new problem. They had little to no
homework so far, he wasn’t allowed to fly alone and he wanted to put off braving the
common room for as long as possible. He also didn’t want to impose on the Hufflepuff
hospitality too much. Sure, the badgers seemed to like him well enough by now and probably
wouldn’t mind, but he had to maintain what was left of his reputation in Slytherin. Harry still
hadn’t given up on his plans in the snake pit; if he did, he may as well have let the hat sort
him into Hufflepuff yesterday. So, until their Astronomy lesson tonight, he decided to roam
the castle.

The memories were very helpful, but they were still incomplete and hazy a lot of the time.
Over the last two years, he had also realised that nothing beat practising and physically trying
something himself. Wandering the corridors, trying to predict the switching staircases and
memorising landmarks helped his sense of orientation immensely. Mehen was also glad to
get an overview of the castle, though Harry lost count of the times he had to shoo the snake
back into his sleeve when other students approached.

A notice-me-not charm kept most of the student population off his back, though he had to
move on whenever people from higher years started frowning at the place he was standing.
As he could still feel eyes on him sometimes – whether from students, house elves or
professors, he had no idea – Harry figured he was still too much of a novelty to get away with
escaping to the Room of Requirement or the Camber of Secrets, but he paid a visit to the
owlery to send off the letter to Walburga and Kreacher.

Astronomy was a breeze – the Blacks family's fascination with stars hadn’t stopped at
Walburga and she had drilled constellations and planets into him – and with a well-placed
notice-me-not Harry managed to avoid the group of boys with Travers as their leader, who
were waiting in the common room, by slipping in with a bunch of other students. Even his
year mates jumped slightly when Harry dropped the charm and, to them, suddenly appeared
in the dorm. Nott gave him a once-over, but didn’t say anything.

The next day started with disappointment. Harry went to sit with the Hufflepuffs for breakfast
after easily finding his way to the Great Hall, to some very disappointed stares from the
Slytherin table. They cheered up a bit when Snape took great pleasure in informing him that,
while he could sit wherever he wanted for lunch and dinner, breakfast was supposed to be
spent at your own table, as were Hogwarts feasts. Harry stifled the Hufflepuff’s protests and
thanked the professor, which made him frown and stalk off. After watching the nervous
shuffling around of bags and people at the Slytherin table, Harry just shrugged and leaned
against one of the walls.

Susan came up to him, saying how unfair it was and she could bring him some food so they
could eat outside together. Harry enjoyed the warm feeling in his chest, but told her thanks
but no thanks, he could take care of himself for one meal. She seemed unconvinced until he
grinned and asked her whether she had found the kitchens yet.

He did wait for the post to arrive and, as expected, Hedwig came with a package. He fed her
some treats from his pockets and sent her off again before leaving the Great Hall.

The house elves, of course, were ecstatic to have a student to serve and Harry found himself
with quite the mountain of food. That was in addition to the package full of muggle candy
that Petunia had sent him, along with a long, rambly letter from Dudley that made Harry
smile and swear to write the day after tomorrow at the latest. At least one person was happy
about him being in Slytherin. And he could gain some more friends in Hufflepuff via candy
bribes, he was sure.

Wednesday brought their first Transfiguration lesson. Harry sat alone again, earning a raised
eyebrow from Professor McGonagall and a tightening of her mouth. At least someone cared
(who wasn’t Quirrel). Or she was just mad at the reminder that he was not a lion. She left it
for the moment, though, and instead turned her desk into a pig before teaching them more
Transfiguration theory. Harry diligently took notes, though he had worked through this with
Walburga as well. He was also very glad to have practised with his wand yesterday before
they were doing their first bit of magic.

After casting the point-me spell on the train and a few simple notice-me-not charms with it,
Harry had realised that his flow of magic was vastly different when directed through his
wand as opposed to his hand or even his crystal. Instead of feeling like he was forcing a
bucket of water through a straw, it was like the floodgates had opened. The first time, the
rush of magic both exhilarated and scared him beyond belief, especially as it took him almost
a full minute to shut it down again and left him severely exhausted. Even Mehen had hissed
menacingly and warned him not to overdo it. He mostly got the hang of it after an hour or so.

This was just turning a match into a needle, but Harry still thought it was exciting to perform
his first official bout of magic. Not that it was difficult. The first few tries he put too much or
too little magic into it, but it was only a matter of time. After all, he had already tried out the
wand movements with a stick for the last two years. When he managed the spell within the
first quarter hour, it was the first time since Sunday evening that the Slytherins really stared
at him. McGonagall gave him a small smile and 2 points for Slytherin, so at least she seemed
to be warming up to him. Sadly, Malfoy lost the two points right after class when
McGonagall caught him trying to trip Harry on the way out.

He spent the rest of that day in the library, writing a thank you letter to Petunia and telling
Dudley all about the first few classes, then carrying on with some of his more advanced
studies. He had promised Aunt Walburga not to neglect his extracurricular activities just
because he was suddenly surrounded by magical people his age. That was also why he still
meditated before bed every night and had every intention of continuing that tradition,
especially seeing as his occlumency still needed work. He may be able to fool people at first
glance, but if any legilimens wanted to take a closer look at his mind, there was little
stopping them.

He was only wrenched from his thoughts and re-reading his Potions texts when a certain
high-pitched, slightly put-off-sounding voice cut through his concentration, not least because
he had been desperately waiting to hear it. That Hermione was whispering didn’t prevent him
from finding her between the bookshelves.

“Honestly, Ron, just because it’s the start of the term doesn’t mean we can slack off. If
anything, we should pay close attention now so we don’t miss any of the basics.”

Huh. Harry was pretty sure that Ron and Hermione had not gotten along by this time in his
memories. Definitely not well enough to visit the library together.

“We should really read up on the match to needle transfiguration anyway. Mine still looked
too square and the only thing you managed to do was make it a bit sharper than it was
before.”

“At least I didn’t set it on fire like Seamus did…”, muttered Ron. “And McGonagall gave
you five points for it too, so it couldn’t have been too bad.”

That stung a bit, Harry had to admit.

“It’s a match. He really should have known not to prod it like that. Of course it’s
flammable!”, she huffed.

“At least he managed to change it in some way”, came a muttered comment from Neville.
Harry was finally close enough to talk to them, but made his footsteps extra loud on purpose.
Hermione was the first to spin around.

“Oh! Hi, Harry.”

She sounded a bit hesitant and Harry’s heart clenched. “Hello, Hermione. Neville. Ron. It’s
good to see you again.” He paused for a moment. “I thought about sitting at the Gryffindor
table to talk to you, but a lot of them looked a bit angry at me, so I figured I’d better not.”

“A bit angry?! That’s the understatement of the bloody century”, said Ron. “Of course
they’re angry! You betrayed our house when you went to Slytherin.”

Harry just sighed. He had no energy left to be annoyed. “Ron, I didn’t even know I was a
wizard until about a month ago. All these expectations mean nothing to me.”

“But your parents were in Gryffindor too! They’d be so disappointed…”

Hermione elbowed him in the side.

“Yeah well, I never knew my parents. They didn’t raise me. Didn’t even leave me a letter. So
I can’t say I think too much about what they would have done.”

Ron’s ears had gone red again and his fists were balled. Harry sighed and lifted his hands in
defeat.

“I have no wish to get into a fight in the library, of all places. Can we just… not talk about
this for a bit? I could help you all with Transfiguration?”

“Oh? How much of the transfiguration did you manage then?”, asked Hermione.

“All of it. Turned it into a needle after fifteen minutes or so.”

She looked stumped for a bit, probably torn between jealousy and the wish to needle him
with questions. It seemed her curiosity won out and Harry had to hide a fond smile.

“Tell me exactly how you did that. I tried my best, but mine just turned silver and pointy; I
didn’t manage to create a hole and it was still too square!” She huffed and blew a strand of
hair out of her face.

“Oh. That might be because of a few things. It could be your wand movement, or the way
you’re picturing the transformation in your mind. There’s a few books that explain both in
more detail. We could also use those for the homework we got, assuming we got the same.”

“Oh god, not another smart-arse.”

“Ron!”

The bickering almost made Harry smile. It seemed mostly good-natured and reminded him
more of the conversations he had witnessed between Ron and Hermione in his second year.
Neville lagged behind a bit, but seemed just fine with that arrangement, while Harry collected
some of the better Transfiguration books and lugged them to the table their group had
claimed. Harry showed Hermione and Ron the relevant chapters and left them to it while he
started on his own essay.

They managed about half an hour of silent study until something set off the bickering again.
Well then, maybe their friendship hadn’t quite reached the level of second year. Probably
because of the lack of trolls, three-headed dogs and devil’s snare so far.

“Harry, are you okay?”

To his shame, he had almost forgotten Neville, who had just whispered the question at him.

“Of course; why are you asking?”

“It’s just…” He threw a glance at the still oblivious Ron and Hermione. “You’re never sitting
at the Slytherin table. And you leave every morning after the owl post arrives.”

“Good observation. There’s a few… issues at the moment. Nothing I can’t fix, don’t worry.”
He hoped.

“Mmh.” Neville looked at his essay and half-heartedly scribbled down a few words before he
looked up again. But even though he opened his mouth, he just shook his head and closed it
again.

They managed to finish the Transfiguration homework despite the short interrogation and the
bickering and Hermione was confident she had figured out what to change about her match-
to-needle spell. Apart from Ron, the other two seemed more comfortable around him as well.

“Should we meet up tomorrow to study together again?” There was an almost hopeful note in
Hermione’s voice and Harry’s heart clenched.

“Can I invite Susan and Hannah too? Hannah is really good at Charms. And Susan is great at
Astronomy and Defence. Together, we should cover all the subjects. If they want to come,
that is.”

Hermione shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Ron’s mouth was hanging open. “But… then we’d be a group of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and
a…” He glanced at the green trim on Harry’s robes and stopped talking. “What next, are you
gonna drag a couple of Ravenclaws into this?”

Harry shrugged and tried to keep the sharper comments to himself. “Why not? I might be
able to convince Padma, Lisa or Mandy. They were nice enough in Herbology.”

He had ended up sharing a table with Mandy Brocklehurst, Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin, who
were cold towards him at first but thawed a bit when they realised he actually knew what he
was doing and wasn’t spouting pureblood propaganda. By the end of the lesson Harry had
been confident they at least didn’t hate him and may even greet him in the hallways.

Ron did a great impersonation of a fish. “You’re so… different.”

“Different how? We’ve only met three days ago; what could you possibly know about me
being different to how I usually am?”

The only reason why he still kept his temper was not wanting to piss off Madam Pince during
the first week. Actually, he didn’t want to anger her at all because he intended to spend a
large amount of his school years in the library, undisturbed, in the best case scenario.

Ron just grumbled something unintelligible and stormed off while Harry sighed and
Hermione rubbed her face tiredly. “We’ve had this same discussion all week. Don’t take him
too seriously.”

Harry sighed again. “I probably shouldn’t sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner, right?”

“Better not”, said Neville.

“See you tomorrow then.” Harry smiled at them anyway and made his way to the Hufflepuff
table yet again.

That night, after sneaking into the dorm yet again, Harry set an alarm with a spell for the
middle of the night. After being sure none of his dorm mates were awake, he snuck down
into the empty room with just a lumos at the tip of his wand – no talking about his first try,
which had almost blinded him, please. He took a closer look at the carvings around the room;
there were some portraits too, all sleeping or not paying him any attention, but Harry needed
the snakes. And there were a lot.

On every ledge, in every corner, around the stone pillars at the sides, all over the fireplace…
And because it was a magical place and Slytherin’s common room to boot, they were all very
much moving – and, because the common room was empty and absolutely silent and if Harry
leaned in close enough, they were talking too.

There was a bit of a riot amongst the stone snake populace when the first one realised a
student was speaking to it in Parseltongue. The common room was filled with a low current
of excited hissing and soon the spot next to the fireplace where Harry was standing was
surrounded by wriggling snakes trying to get a word in edgewise. Only Mehen sliding out of
Harry’s sleeve and menacingly hissing the others into compliance quieted them down.

:Um… hi:, said Harry to the wriggling stone mass.

There were some hissed answers, but they soon listened attentively. It made Harry a bit sad.
The last student who had been able to talk to them must have been Tom Riddle. Everyone
else would just ignore them.

:I’m Harry Evans-Potter, one of the new first-year Slytherins. And, as you may have noticed,
I can speak Parseltongue.:

More excited hissing.

:As you also may have noticed – I’m guessing you keep an eye on the common room? – I’m
not very well-liked at the moment.:

More hissing, this time furious.

:So I wanted to ask if you can keep an eye out for me, maybe. Tell me when Travers and his
minions or others that want to harm me are down here, so that I can avoid them. Can you
enter our dorms?:

There was even more hissing as every snake tried to answer at the same time and even now
that Harry had practised his ability more, this just gave him a headache.

:Okay, look, this doesn’t work. You need to choose one among you who is going be your
spokesperson… spokesnake? Please? I’ll… sit over there and wait for you. You can also
collect questions, if you have any.:

It took the snakes almost half an hour to sort themselves out and only Mehen nudging him
with his nose woke Harry up where he had fallen asleep in a comfortable armchair. His lack
of sleep was so going to come back to haunt him tomorrow.

:Alright, who is speaking for the snakes of Slytherin?:

Most of the serpents made a bit of room and there, in the middle of the mantlepiece, was the
carving of a snake that everyone else was watching. It was one of the bigger ones and even
had some detailing on its scales that made shadowy groves where Harry’s lumos light didn’t
reach.

:Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.:

:I don’t have a name:, the snake said.

:Uh… Can I call you something anyway? Might make things easier if I have to find you.:

The stone snake nodded and Harry once again found himself looking for a snake name. This
didn’t get any easier.

:How about Silex?:

The snake nodded again and he heaved a sigh of relief. Right then. On with it.

:Okay, so, can you enter the dorms to inform me? And can you maybe leave them too and
find me in the castle? And do you want to help at all?:

He stepped closer to the fireplace and tried to breathe quietly enough to hear the hissing.

:We will help. You are a speaker and we snakes protect you, even from other snakes. We can
enter the dorms, but we cannot leave the Slytherin rooms.:

:That’s helpful already, thank you!: Not the best outcome, but definitely not the worst.
:You could try asking the portrait snakes. There’s some all over the castle and some in the
common room too. The one in that portrait over there sometimes talks to us and tells us of the
Outside.:

The snake pointed its tail towards a painting on the outer wall, where a man clothed in black,
old-fashioned robes was snoring gently. When Harry lifted his wand a bit and stepped closer,
he could see a sleeping snake wrapped around his arm.

:Thank you, Silex, that helps a lot.: And opened up all kinds of interesting possibilities. :For
now it’s important that one of you is behind my bed in the morning to tell me when Travers,
Jugson and Rosier are there. Or if you notice anyone else is specifically waiting to harm me.
You probably hear a lot of conversation and secret plans.:

Silex nodded, as did a lot of the other, who were still gathered around the fireplace, filling the
stone walls.

:Why don’t you tell them you can speak Snake? It usually impresses the human snakes.:

Harry just sighed while Mehen watched him with something like exasperation. They’d had
this discussion a lot. :I don’t trust them enough not to let that slip to the rest of the school.
And while the Slytherins would probably respect me more because of it, everybody else
would be afraid of me. I need more allies first.:

The stone snake seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. :I
understand. If you need us, or if we hear anything regarding you, we will tell you.:

:Thank you.:

:You should also be very careful right now. Travers has a lot of influence in Slytherin. When
he told everyone to stay away from you, they listened.:

That explained a lot and made things more complicated. :Thanks again. Good night, Silex.
Good night, everyone.:

The room was once more filled with hissing, but even as Harry moved back towards the
common room, he could see most snakes slithering back to their places in the stonework,
even if some stayed together in small groups. Did stone snakes gossip? Maybe. What he was
very sure of was that they also caught a lot of the common room gossip and if he gained their
trust some more and asked very nicely, maybe they would tell him some of it.

When he had spelled his curtains closed again, Harry grinned into the darkness. If he played
his cards right, he could have his very own Hogwarts spy network.

Their impromptu study group saw each other again the very next day. Harry had also asked
the Ravenclaws during Herbology, but they had respectfully declined.

Hermione was ecstatic because she had managed to turn her match into a needle and even
Ron, who didn’t say much but had tagged along too – Harry had not expected him to show up
at all, to be honest – admitted that he had done the spell by the end of the lesson. Neville said
nothing, which said enough in itself. He had a very involved Herbology discussion with
Hannah, though, and got more chatty when Harry asked him to look over his Herbology
notes to compare if Professor Sprout had given any additional information in the Gryffindor-
Hufflepuff class. Overall, Harry thought their little inter-house study group was a success and
filled some of the hole in his chest that continued to grow with every dark glance from green-
clothed students.

The Slytherins had also not been very impressed when they had finally realised what Harry
used in class to take notes. Pansy Parkinson’s eyes had bulged out and she had sneered at his
muggle notebook and fountain pen. When asked, McGonagall had also not been enthusiastic,
but hadn’t been able to provide a school rule that forbade Harry from using muggle materials.
His explanation that it was 1. easier to write with, 2. cheaper to buy and 3. he could use
parchment and feathers for anything he handed in and exams, if necessary, had been scowled
at but accepted.

While he had practised writing with a quill and ink, Harry saw no reason why he should
make life more difficult for himself unnecessarily. The notes he took in class were his own
business and everyone else could go kick a dragon as far as he was concerned.

In Charms, Hannah had asked why everybody was glaring at him more than usual and, when
Harry had provided his explanation, Justin was looking at him in awe, asking if he still had
some paper left because he was struggling with parchment and quill. Harry just smiled and
handed him a spare pen and piece of paper which Susan and Ernie promptly borrowed to see
what the big deal was. By the end of the lesson, both of them had asked Harry or Justin
whether either of them could order them more muggle supplies via their families.

What also cheered him up was that they had finally moved on to spellwork and were
practising the lumos and nox charms. Harry, of course, had done it first try, this time even
without blinding anybody. After accepting Professor Flitwick’s enthusiastic praise and house
points, enduring the even stronger glares from the Slytherins and giving some tips to his
Hufflepuff friends, Harry spent the next few minutes lighting his wand and then
extinguishing the glow until he got bored.

Then he moved on to try the spell with his left hand. That worked fine when he adjusted his
magic output yet again – apparently his wand was only a perfect fit for his right hand; who
would have thought? Using it in his left meant he had to push some more magic into it to
make the spell work, but work it did.

When he was still bored, Harry figured he’d see if any of his “accidental” magic could be
replicated with a wand too. To entertain Dudley, he had changed the lumos charm in a way
that created glowing spheres you could throw at people – or stuffed toys. So, theoretically, it
should be even easier with a wand.

But how to go about it without an incantation…?

Hannah had started throwing him confused glances by the time Harry got around to trying it
out. If he could picture it in his mind and let his magic flow the same way as with the lumos
charm, it should work. And not blow anybody up either, hopefully. He closed his eyes to
focus on the colourful balls of light that had made his cousin so happy and waved it in the
same triangle pattern as the spell.

Hannah’s furrowed brows went up when there was suddenly a glowing light orb springing
from the tip of Harry’s wand. Her own wand tip, which had been flickering, went out
immediately while she just stared and nudged Susan.

Harry ignored the two girls and instead picked up the orb, turning it over in his hands. It
looked the same, at least. Had it worked? He frowned at it a bit more and began bouncing it
in his hand. It felt the same too.

“Harry”, whispered Hannah. “What are you doing?”

He smiled at her and offered her the sphere. “I made these for Dudley at home and figured it
should be easier with a wand.”

She hesitated a bit, but reached for the ball of light anyway. There was a slight smile on her
face when it fit perfectly into her palm.

“What do you mean, you made them for your cousin?”, asked Susan with narrowed eyes.

He shrugged. “He can’t do spells himself, so I made these. This way he can hold light too.
And you can throw them at stuff as well.”

“Harry, no!”, Susan hissed when he waved his wand again and had another identical sphere in
his own hand. “You can’t go throwing experimental magic at people!”

“Not people then”, he compromised – and threw the sphere.

Susan made a small noise that sounded like a of a choked off groan as she and Hannah
watched the light sail through the air with wide, fearful eyes. Harry watched it, smiling, as it
hit Malfoy’s bag. The blonde boy gave a small shout and tried to evade the magic thrown at
him, toppling backward over his chair in the process. The ball of light had disappeared on
impact.

The two girls turned to watch him, wide-eyed.

“Oops”, Harry said drily.

“Mr Malfoy, are you alright?” Professor Flitwick, who had just been helping Goyle with the
wand movement, turned to the boy.

“Potter threw something at me!”

By the time the professor turned to him with a questioning look, Harry had put on his most
innocent expression. “It was just a light, professor. And I aimed for Malfoy’s bag. My cousin
and I play with them at home all the time and I wanted to see how easy it is with a wand.”

Flitwick’s eyes flicked to the orb of light that Hannah was still holding. “You mean whatever
Miss Abbott is holding?”
When prompted, she handed it over immediately and the professor looked at it closely from
all sides, poking it with a long finger as well. “How exactly did you make this?”

While Harry tried to explain his thought process, he kept an eye on the Slytherin side of the
room. Crabbe had helped Malfoy up at this point and the boy was scowling at him. Not that
Harry blamed him exactly. This had probably been stupid and impulsive – but as it was also
very satisfying, he didn’t care much. Besides, Malfoy had started the whole thing by trying to
trip him yesterday.

“Fascinating”, muttered Flitwick. “And if you throw it…?”

“Throw it at me, professor”, Harry offered. “It doesn’t do anything.”

The professor seemed reluctant at first, but Harry just calmly stared at him until he gave up.
The sphere hit his torso and splattered into tiny wisps of light on impact with his clothes.
Harry felt nothing, not even heat, and the leftover sparks disappeared after just a second
while Hannah ooh-ed quietly at the pretty lights.

“Fascinating”, he repeated. “And even a squib can hold it?”

“Anyone can.” Harry shrugged. “We used it to do target practice with stuffed animals I
floated around the room.”

That warranted another raised eyebrow.

“Professor, what are you going to do about this? I hurt myself while falling.” That was
Malfoy, of course, and he was indeed holding his elbow and sneering at him.

Harry just adopted an innocent expression. “I didn’t know this was anything special. You
know, I grew up in the muggle world and if this is normal for me, I figured he would just
laugh it off too. I’m truly sorry if I scared you with my light, Heir Malfoy.”

Hannah next to him was trying to hide her snicker behind Susan’s shoulder, who wasn’t
faring any better.

“As fascinating as it is, Mr Evans-Potter, you should never throw magic at other people
without their permission. Take this as a warning. Also, please stay after class to discuss your
spell some more, will you?”

“Yes, professor.”

When Flitwick turned around, still murmuring something along the lines of “fascinating”,
Harry allowed himself a grin and wink at Malfoy, whose cheeks turned even more red and
who was balling his fists. The other Slytherins looked between them and while Crabbe and
Goyle looked angry on behalf of their friend, behind the sneers of everyone else Harry could
see the curiosity.

Evans-Potter 1, Slytherin 0.

-
His good mood lasted all through the very informative conversation with Professor Flitwick
and the library meeting with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. It took its first hit because of
the consequent behaviour of the Slytherins and that he had to sneak into his own dorm again.

What killed it completely was the fact that there was no letter from Hagrid waiting for him on
Friday morning. It certainly wasn’t helped by having Potions right afterwards.

Harry stayed close to Hermione, Neville and Ron during their trek to the dungeons, ignoring
the rest of the Gryffindors staring at him with various grades of curiosity or suspicion.
Luckily, there were only nine Gryffindors this time and Harry shot a questioning look at
Neville before he sat down next to his friend. Neville looked a bit scared of the other
students’ reactions, but more than happy to have someone with an interest in potions sitting
next to him. Hermione and Ron ended up together, which made Ron look slightly nervous but
also strangely relieved.

And then came Snape, gliding through the door with his robe swinging like dark bat wings
behind him, bringing with him the cold dungeon air. If nothing else, he definitely knew how
to make a dramatic entrance.

“Ah yes”, he finally said, when getting to Harry’s name during role call. “Harry Potter. Our
new – celebrity.”

“Actually, it’s Evans-Potter, sir”, said Harry and got a glare in return, but luckily Snape didn’t
seem to want to take points from his own house and instead launched into his speech.

Harry was more and more sure that squibs should have no problem with Potions. Little
foolish wand-waving sounded exactly like what Dudley and Petunia needed.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of

wormwood?”

Hermione’s hand shot up, while Harry looked just past the professor’s eyes.

“It’s Evans-Potter, sir. And I believe you would get the Draught of Living Death, mentioned
in chapter 11 of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. It is a very powerful sleeping
potion.”

Ron’s head swivelled around to look at him wide-eyed, while Hermione, pouting, lowered
her hand.

“Let’s try again.”

Harry’s hands clenched under the table, but he kept his back straight and face expressionless.

“Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“Evans-Potter, sir. It can be found in the stomach of a goat and can often save you if you have
ingested poison because it neutralises many.” It could also be found in his school satchel, just
in case the Slytherins or Gryffindors decided he was better off dead than clothed green. What
useful things could be found during a trip to Knockturn Alley…
Hermione was glaring at him at this point and Harry could feel Neville staring at him from
the right side. From the corner of his eye he also noticed the Slytherin side of the class turned
towards him. But Harry kept looking straight ahead, just past Snape’s dark stringy hair.

“Let’s see if you’ve read the whole book then, or started slacking off somewhere in the
middle. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Hermione was almost standing now, although Ron was trying to get her to sit back down. She
was looking furious and it made her hair look more bushy than ever – Harry had often
wondered whether that was magic or not.

“Evans-Potter, sir. Monkshood and wolfsbane are names for the same plant, also known as
aconite. Or aconitum, if you want the Latin variant. You may not want me to be, but I am a
Slytherin. Sir.”

Now both Snape and Hermione outright glared at him. “Sit down”, the professor snapped at
Hermione. “You have not been addressed in this class so far and waving your hand
annoyingly in front of my face will not bring you any points here. In fact – a point will be
taken from Gryffindor for being obnoxious.”

There were some snickers from the Slytherin side of the room, but Harry only felt remorse
when looking into Hermione’s eyes which were tearing up. She also didn’t look at him again,
though Harry was relieved to find Ron, of all people, trying to comfort her.

At least Snape left them all in their pairs, so Harry didn’t have to deal with a Slytherin partner
– though Neville turned out to be quite the handful. Being intimidated by Snape had not
helped his coordination, so Harry found himself desperately trying to fix the dried nettles
which Neville had weighed wrong, and sprinting after one of the snake fangs that had
bounced off the table, and tearing the stirring rod out of his hands when he was about to stir
in the wrong direction. He paid special attention to the porcupine quills, which were known
to explode things if added while the cauldron was still on the fire.

He had enough awareness to stop Seamus Finnigan from making the same mistake, which
had gotten him a ribbing from Snape for shouting in the classroom, but Harry would gladly
take it over being covered in boils. He even managed to sneak to the corner cupboard to look
for a certain battered sixth year potions book and talk his way out of it by saying he thought
that’s where some of the ingredient were. Sadly, it was in vain as the Half-Blood-Prince’s
book wasn’t there (yet).

When they were handing in their potion, Harry dutifully filled every little bit from their
cauldron into flasks and, winking at Neville who was looking at him wide-eyed, hid all but
two away in his satchel. One of them was handed in to Snape before Harry turned around to
tidy their working station.

3-2-1-he counted in his head – then there was a clangour from the front.

“Potter, next time put your flask on the table in a way that won’t make it fall. And another
point from Gryffindor, Longbottom, for making your partner do everything.”
Neville whimpered while Harry tried to temp down on the rage. There was laughter from the
Slytherin side and, to Harry’s ever-lasting frustration, the Gryffindor one as well.

“Evans-Potter. And I’m sorry, sir; here’s our spare flask. I took it in case something happened
to the first.”

He handed it to Snape whose lips grew smaller than ever as he pinched his mouth. Harry
even looked him in the eyes this time, letting play out his fears that one of his classmates
would trip him on the way to the front, or sweep the flask off the table while handing in their
own. He kept the knowledge that Snape would do the same out of sight.

Snape grumbled, but took the second flask. Harry only heaved a sigh of relief when he put it
away with the others, then gave Neville, who was still staring at him, a small smile.

“You alright, Nev?”

Neville closed his mouth. “That was brilliant, Harry. I’m…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I
wasn’t any help to you.”

“What are you talking about? Without you, I wouldn’t even have had a partner!” He grinned
at the slight blush on the other boy’s face. Maybe Potions hadn’t been a complete fail after
all.

He had to rethink this statement when they left the dungeon and Hermione immediately
rounded on him.

“How could you, Harry! Just because you know all the answers doesn’t mean you should hog
the professor’s time like that! I knew the answers too!” There were flecks of red on her
cheeks in her anger and even her hair was bristling.

“I’m sorry Hermione, but Snape only asked me stuff. What did you want me to do, pretend I
don’t know the answers?”

“Professor Snape”, she hissed.

Ron was glowering at him too and Neville had taken to trying to meld into the wall.

“Trouble with your girlfriend, Potter?”

Harry just closed his eyes. Of course Draco Malfoy would show up, along with a group of
snickering Slytherins.

“Evans-Potter. And none of your business, Malfoy.”

When he turned around to try and fix things with Hermione, she was gone and Ron with her.
Not that he didn’t think she was being an idiot and even a bit of a hypocrite about it. It wasn’t
as if she would have answered a question wrong if Snape had asked her; in fact, she probably
would have bragged. But her cleverness had been the most defining thing about her for so
long that it must feel like him stealing part of her identity.
 Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. Well damn. There would probably not be any library
meetings with those two for a few days at least. But even the thought of toning down his
knowledge left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

“It’s not your fault, Harry”, said Neville quietly. “She’ll… she’ll come around.” There was a
dubious note in his voice that they both tried to ignore. “I can try to talk some sense into her
in Herbology.”

“Thanks, Nev. That’s really nice of you. And brave, considering the way she stormed off.”

He shrugged. “What are friends for?”

This time the hesitant undertone was there for different reasons – and this time Harry could
do something about it. “You’re the best, Neville. And don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

Still, he thought while they made their way to the Great Hall, it looked like the score was 1-1
now for making Harry fight with one of his friends. But he’d turn it around. He refused to
lose anyone he cared about (again).

Chapter End Notes

You can’t imagine what a mess the class schedule is. Like, seriously. You can’t even be
sure which houses share classes, why they have to share some and not others bringing
the student total from about 10 to 20 or even 40 according to some people, how many
students are in each, how often they have it... There’s even a debate going on whether
there’s more students in their year than the ones named in the books. So I have a list of
students and a schedule and I’m going to stick to those and canon can go to hell. And
logic too. It’s a bloody nightmare.
I also don’t feel like going through all the books and wikis to find older Slytherin
students, so I’ll use the ones I know and make some up in addition to it. Sue me.

…you may notice I’m a little bit salty about this… ^^’

Edit: there seems to be an issue with spacing. I'm using a new writing program and it
doesn't seem to like apostrophes. I'm working on it.
 For Now
Chapter Summary

Things have to get worse before they can get better. Right? Right????

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry didn’t see Hermione all weekend. The study sessions still continued with Susan and
Hannah, and sometimes Neville, although he often left to join Hermione and Ron at a
different table. The two were furious when Harry told them what had happened in Potions
and why Hermione wasn’t talking to him and he barely kept Susan from marching over there
and lecturing the Gryffindors.

They couldn’t study all weekend, however, and Harry soon took the others on a tour of the
castle. He explained away his knowledge by saying he’d had a lot of free time because of his
house mates, which made Hannah almost tear up and Susan eye him thoughtfully. But other
than that they were mostly entertained by all the secret passageways, trick steps in the stairs
and funny paintings he had discovered.

Most of Sunday was spent alone. Everyone else was with their year mates and Harry… Harry
explored some more. If you could call it that when you knew exactly where you wanted to
go. Soon, he was standing on the seventh floor, walking past the tapestry of the dancing trolls
and thinking I need the room where the lost things go…

He quickly stepped through it as soon as the door materialised, then looked around.

The room was like he remembered and at the same time so much more. The cathedral-liked
space was at least as high and stretched as far as the Great Hall. The tall windows were
letting in light that illuminated the towers and towers of things that had accumulated here,
lost and hidden and forgotten. He couldn’t count the amount of cupboards and tables and
chairs, broken or spilled with ominous substances. Books upon books, Zonko items hurriedly
stashed away, boxes with alcohol, clothes, jewellery, weapons… the list was truly endless and
Harry had already come to the decision that it would be a shame to leave all of this lying
around.

First, though, he sank into his mind and tried to call forward a specific memory. It was as
hazy as all everything else, but his future self had been high on adrenaline and it was more
detailed than many others. Still mostly focused on it, Harry set off into the mountains of
things, turning right at a stuffed troll that sent a shiver of foreboding through him, then
following other markers he had picked up from the memory.
Some things were different. For one, the vanishing cabinet wasn’t here yet, still sitting
innocently on the ground floor. It had taken Harry some time to find it because while he
remembered that the Weasley twins had used it in fifth year to push a Slytherin into it, he
hadn’t exactly remembered where it had been stationed before it had been broken. Honestly,
putting a vanishing cabinet with an unknown destination in a school was a bloody stupid idea
in the first place if you asked him. But even knowing where it was, he’d had no way of
moving it without suspicion. Until now.

First off, though…

Harry turned around, surveying the area. There was the large, acid-covered cupboard. There,
on top of a stained crate, was the bust of the ugly wizard. A dusty red wig was lying half-
hidden under a tattered shirt. And there, in between some books and papers, he saw the last
glint of silver on an old, tarnished tiara.

“Kreacher!”

There was a pop and Harry was standing in front of a grinning house elf. “Young Master
Harry! Oh, Mistress Walburga and Kreacher are being so proud of you being a Slytherin!”

Kreacher was tearing up a little and Harry awkwardly patted him on the back.

“And you be smart enough to call Kreacher in a hidden room! What a wonderful day!”

“I take it Aunt Walburga was happy about the letter I wrote you both?”

“Oh yes, yes, very happy! Kreacher wanted to write a letter back, but she said it be too
suspicious for you to be getting letters from us. So Kreacher be hoping you call him, so
Kreacher can tell you how proud Mistress is! Oh, if the Old Master could have seen…”

He sniffled again and Harry was in the uncomfortable position of comforting a crying house
elf. “Erm… Kreacher?”

“Yes, Young Master! Kreacher be helping!”

“Yes. I’ve found… one more thing like the locket your Master Regulus gave you.”

It seemed he had found one way to stop a crying house elf after all. “One of those dark
things”, Kreacher sneered. “Can the Young Master destroy it? Has he found a way…?”

“Not yet, Kreacher. But I want you to ask Aunt Walburga if I should leave it here, or if it’s
safe to bring to Grimmauld Place too.”

Kreacher nodded so hard his ears were flapping all over the place and popped away again.

While it had been safe in the Room of Requirement until his seventh year the last time, Harry
wasn’t counting on his luck to last that long. After all, Voldemort was in the castle right this
moment and had access to it. That was not something he would risk.
Kreacher was back just a minute later, looking distraught. “Mistress be cursing up a storm.
Woke up all the other portraits in the house, she did. Scream at Kreacher too when he remind
her to not mention the word” He changed his voice to a whisper“…horcrux. But she saying it
be safe at home. In the dungeon, far away from the attic. But Kreacher can take it.”

“No!” Harry stopped the elf just as he was reaching for the diadem. “Don’t touch it,
Kreacher, it could hurt you. We need a magic-dampening box first…”

Before he had even finished the sentence, the elf was off again. Harry just shook his head. He
would never get used to house elves.

“Here. Kreacher found this in Mistress’ potions lab.”

“Perfect.”

Harry took a broken beater bat and carefully nudged the diadem into the box with the end.
There was a bit of pressure on his occlumency shields and Harry had to focus completely on
them. A dark tendril of something was trying to worm its way into his mind. Harry could feel
it. And although he had expected an immediate assault, the tendrils were softly pushing,
looking for purchase on the shield, a chink in the armour.

It wasn’t a voice, exactly. Nothing conscious. But Harry suddenly knew that, if he just put on
the diadem, it would solve all of his problems. It could be so easy to make them all listen to
him. They would see things his way; the diadem could give him the knowledge to explain it
in a way that made everyone believe him, admire him, adore him. If only he kept the diadem.
If only he put it on. And it was much too nice a thing to lock away anyway.

Harry was so lost in the vision that, at first, he didn’t realise that someone was pulling on his
sleeve. He only snapped out of it when a shrill screech reached his ears.

“Young Master, put that down immediately!”

When his eyes snapped open he could see Kreacher clinging to him, desperately tugging at
his sleeve and trembling all over.

Harry surveyed his mind shield and found one dark tendril that had made its way through the
first layer, latching on to some of his current thoughts. He tugged more harshly than he
probably had to, ripping the thing to shreds in his fury and slamming the shield back down.
He could feel the corners of his mouth turn down in disgust while looking at the diadem in
his hand. It felt distinctly displeased, quivering angrily in his hand. Harry dropped it into the
box and closed the lid with a satisfying clunk.

“Thanks, Kreacher. That was a close one. You did really well.”

It must have cost the old elf all his courage to scream at someone he regarded as his master
and the praise made him perk right back up. Harry, in the meantime, found himself frantically
checking his mind for any more taint and only calmed down when nothing remained of this
encounter. Though a tiny seed of fear remained when he noticed that something seemed to be
metaphorically banging from the inside of the door at the deepest part of his mind. He
reinforced that one, just in case.

The diadem horcrux had calmed down to a quiet buzzing as soon as the lid closed over it and
Harry handed it to Kreacher who bowed once more, then popped off to Grimmauld Place
again.

What had the world come to that he was trusting Walburga Black of all people with not just
one, but two horcruxes? Future Harry would have called him insane. But future Harry had
outflown fiendfyre on a broom, so he really had no legs to stand on. (Ouch.) Shut up.

“Can Kreacher help the Young Master more?”

“Yes. Can you wait for a quiet moment, maybe at night, and pop the vanishing cabinet from
the ground floor to this room? Hide it somewhere at the very back of the room and you can
show me where when I call you here next time.”

“Kreacher can do that, yes!”

“Thank you, Kreacher. Also… I’ll try to find all the interesting things in this room in the next
few months. Can you help me sort through it all?”

The elf looked around at the mountains and mountains of stuff while Harry winced. But
Kreacher’s ears just perked up. “Oh, this be fun!”

Harry still couldn’t decide whether house eves were a godsent, insane, or brain-washed.
Maybe a bit of all of that, if he was being honest. Right now, he was mostly relieved about it.
There was also something he wanted to try. Maybe not right here, though. So Harry and a
curious Kreacher made their way to the front of the room.

“Be prepared to shield me from stuff, alright, Kreacher?”

“What is Master Harry…?”

“Accio, robes.”

There was a tug on his magic and panic in Kreacher’s eyes. And then nothing at all happened.

“Mmh. Summoning charms don’t work in here then. Good to know. Do elven charms work?”

Kreacher’s eyes had gone even wider and he frantically shook his head. “Kreacher think so,
but he not be trying that. Could be smothered by clothing! No, no. Unless Master be asking it
of Kreacher.”

“Good point. I guess we’ll just sift through everything individually then.” He sighed. “Talk
about annoying.”

“Kreacher can do the sorting! As long as Young Master promises not to summon stuff again.
Kreacher has time! Not much to do at home at all.” He nodded earnestly. “And Kreacher be
getting vanishing cabinet too.”
“Can you not tell Walburga about that one yet? I want to see if it works and whether I can
visit Grimmauld Place before you give her any hope. Because I think it’s broken and doesn’t
work yet.”

“Kreacher will promise.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

Could house elves blush? Harry was pretty sure that’s what was currently happening, but it
was difficult to tell with Kreacher’s chalky-green skin tone.

They spent some time together, sifting through the stuff people had left behind. Harry found
some interesting books and an old broom he used to fly around a bit and calm his nerves
before the upcoming flying lesson. He also paid attention to any gem stones they found, in
the hopes one might work like another focus for him. He only found three that made his
magic tingle even a bit – one green, one blood-red and the other so dark black it looked like it
was sucking in the light. Maybe he could use them for a runes project he was working on.

Towards the early afternoon, he reminded Kreacher to touch nothing if he wasn’t sure it was
curse-free and then left to get some food in the kitchens - reminding the elf to take breaks, eat
and sleep too. Then he set out to scour the castle for snake paintings. He didn’t dare speak to
them out in the open yet, partly because he didn’t want anyone to overhear him, partly
because there was another parselmouth running around the school who might talk to them as
well.

It had the nice side effect that he got to know the other paintings too. Some were very
talkative and he had some nice conversations about the history of Hogwarts. Others, like Sir
Cadogan, were more annoying than helpful.

Harry also noticed a difference in intelligence levels in the paintings. Some were very life-
like, behaving like real people and carrying a conversation without issue and without running
out of things to say. Most, however, seemed more like faint impressions of the people they
were depicting, with a few phrases they could say and a cardboard personality. Harry was
suddenly very glad Walburga had apparently poured a lot of her personality and knowledge
into the painting; having to deal with just a screeching fury would have been a bummer.

When he was close to Gryffindor tower, Mehen suddenly hissed a warning, just in time for
Harry to duck a brightly-coloured hex coming from behind him.

“Look what we have here. A lost snake.”

Judging from their frames, they seemed to be a group of fourth or fifth year Gryffindors –
and they already had their wands drawn and pointing at him. Harry remembered Gemma
Farley saying to walk in groups. Whatever good that did him, when he had nobody to walk
with and couldn’t exactly hide in the common room.

“And it’s Harry Potter, to boot!”

“Evans-Potter”, he corrected them through gritted teeth.

Why did everybody refuse to use his real name? He was starting to relate to Voldemort, of all
people. Putting a taboo on the word combination “Harry Potter” was sounding more and
more tempting.

Their expressions just darkened. “A Potter in Slytherin. And you’re supposed to have
defeated You-know-who? I think not.”

Before their leader could utter a single syllable more, Harry tucked into a roll. The purple
spell shot right through where he had been standing. There was a short pause in which
everyone seemed to suck in a collective breath, but Harry was already moving.

He first cast a tickling charm on his attacker, then an engorgement charm on the shoes of one
of the would-be-backers and a shrinking charm on the shoes of the other person who had
their wand at the ready. Luckily, the boys were surprised enough that his spells actually hit.

And then Harry booked it down the corridor.

There were some angry shouts behind him as someone tried to undo his charms and the few
people in his way got out of it quickly. There was a staircase down to the sixth floor right in
front of him and Harry ran towards it, swerving from side to side every now and then to make
him more difficult to hit. His heart was already pounding in his chest and he wished he’d kept
up his sports routine more thoroughly.

One of his pursuers was fast because Harry could suddenly hear cursing much closer than he
liked. He would also swear he could feel a hand trying to grab the back of his robe. If they
caught him and found Mehen…

He sped up again.

There was the staircase, luckily with nobody on it. That meant Harry could lead the boy
behind him right into one of the trick steps on the left side. He heard more curses and the
noise of someone trying to free a stuck foot from the stairs. Harry allowed himself a slight
grin, then continued running. There was a hidden door just ahead; as soon as he took the
nearest corner, he used the momentum to swing himself right through the wall.

He wasn’t sure whether the Gryffindor boys knew about this one, so, just in case, he
continued running until he reached the exit on the second floor, then fled to the basement and
a hidden corridor there, leaning against the cold stone wall to catch his breath.

:Everything alright?: Mehen peeked out of his sleeve, a note of worry in his voice.

Harry breathed in once more. :Yeah. I’m fine.:

There was a pause where both of them thought back on the incident. Harry could have kicked
himself for not wanting to believe that this is exactly what would happen. Someone was
always going to be making the first move. And it just made sense to do so before he got any
sort of formal training. At least he had surprised them enough to escape.

He sighed again. What a mess.

:You have to go outside of the dorm for classes. And you can’t exactly go in until just before
curfew... well, not if you don’t want to hide inside your spelled bed curtains forever. What are
you going to do now?:

:Try to keep my eyes and ears open and run like hell when it looks like someone wants to go
after me. And never ever forget my notice-me-not charm again.:

Mehen didn’t look very impressed by that plan. Then again, neither was Harry. He was just
surprised the Slytherins had been comparatively tame until now.

Consequently, Harry was not surprised when he woke up on Monday morning and found that
he had been pranked. The robes he had carelessly thrown over a chair last night had been
turned bright pink, there were plants growing out of his shoes and someone had clearly tried
to get into his trunk. Of course they had failed because Harry had put the strongest wards on
it that he knew - and Kreacher had supplied his expertise, which was surprisingly very
helpful.

Harry shrugged and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. When he picked up his
shampoo, he eyed it and then went back to get a new one from his trunk and finished his
morning routine.

After that, he collected everything he had lying around. It wasn’t much because he had
expected this to happen much earlier. His leather satchel was always placed at the foot of his
bed inside the spelled curtains, so that was safe, which meant all of his school books were
safe. Sometimes he left some on his desk, as well as writing stationary, but he had luckily
locked them in his trunk yesterday. His clothes were also in his trunk, as he had never felt
safe enough to put them into the wardrobe. Lucky him.

Next, he pulled the curtain at the headboard of the bed to the side and scanned the wall for
the little snake that usually waited for him in the morning. Silex took his duty to protect him
very seriously, so the fact he had been surprised by this development was worrying.

:Are you there? Pip?:

They had come up with a system that worked well for them. Silex coordinated the common
room snakes and collected all the information they uncovered, then sifted through it and
passed on what was necessary for Harry. Pip was a tiny snake that had insisted on being
stationed in the dorm room. And while Harry felt slightly bad for spying on his dorm mates,
he had asked the snake only to relay what concerned Harry and no private matters. If he ever
changed his mind… well, stone snakes had great memories.

Something wiggled at the corner of his vision and soon a tiny snake was poking its head
around the bed post.

:Harry! I watched them mess with your stuff, but you didn’t talk to me!:
She sounded almost accusing and Harry found himself stroking the stone snake’s head. :I’m
sorry. I’ll do it first thing in the morning from now on.:

The snake nodded. :It was that Malfoy boy and the two big boys. They waited until you had
been asleep for a while and then got up.:

:What about the other two? Nott and Zabini?:

:They were asleep.:

Not that it meant anything.

There was movement near the door, where another small snake wiggled through the gap and
made its way along the stone tiles and up the wall. It was still slightly freaky to watch a
carving move this purposefully – but as long as there was stone, the snakes could go
wherever they pleased. If there were more parselmouths, this would definitely be a security
risk.

:They’re in the common room already! The three boys that want to catch you!:

:Thanks for letting me know.:

They were in on it then. Normally, neither of the three ringleaders liked getting up
particularly early, which made Harry’s life easier. If they got up before eight, they were up to
something. The question was what he was going to do about it, especially now that they were
very obviously waiting for him to come down.

He decided to collect his things for the day while thinking it over. He put the shoes-turned-
garden into his satchel as well, in the hopes that Kreacher would be able to save them. He had
a second pair, but dragonhide boots were expensive. He took the pink robe too, but figured
that one was probably a lost cause. Maybe he could save it for second year when Lockhart
arranged that awful Valentine’s Day celebration? Or he could wear it to show them he didn’t
care - he did think he looked rather fetching in pink, though his professors might disagree.

What he needed was a distraction that gave him enough time to get out of the common
room… Suddenly, Harry started to grin and speed-walked back to the bathroom. Nobody else
was up yet, which was never the case if he was honest, so nobody saw him vanish the
shampoo from Malfoy’s bottle to switch it with his own.

To be less suspicious, Harry decided he might as well answer Dudley’s last letter. He got out
his writing material and sat down at the desk which he had used very rarely since the first
day. Dudley and Harry wrote back and forth like clockwork every two days. Harry wrote a
letter, it took half a day to get there, Dudley answered, another half day and then it was his
turn again.

His cousin sent some updates on how he settled in at his new school – he already had the
boxing team wrapped around his little finger – what their friends from elementary school
were up to, what his mum was doing and what they were currently covering in class. Harry
answered mostly with what kind of magic they were learning and what weird things the
magical world threw at him. He left out most of the Slytherin drama and made sure to
mention Neville, Susan and Hannah often, in case his relatives became worried that he had no
friends. His aunt Petunia also sent a short note and some muggle sweets every week, which
he mostly smuggled into the library to share with his friends or shared at the Hufflepuff table.

There was some rustling from the bed right next to his. It seemed like Zabini would win
today’s race to the mirror. One bed down, Nott was also stirring. One glance across the room
told him that the other three boys were still out. Considering they’d had a very late night,
Harry wasn’t surprised.

Nott gave him a strange look before shuffling off towards the bathroom. The looks had been
getting more frequent during the last week. So far the boy hadn’t done anything, but Harry
had just told the snakes to keep an eye on him.

When he was still there by the time even Zabini came back, he was getting more looks.

“And what are you still doing here?”, the Italian boy asked.

“Writing a letter.”

“But usually you do that somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

“Yes, but today Travers, Rosier and Jugson are waiting in the common room.”

“Ah.” There was a pause. “And how do you know that?”

Harry smirked and continued writing his letter.

“And why are they waiting there?”

“Oh, they asked Malfoy to prank me. Turned my robe pink and planted weird stuff in my
shoes. I’m waiting for a distraction to get past them.”

Harry could feel Nott staring at him from his own desk. When he turned to meet his eyes, he
quickly looked away and busied himself with his school books. While this was the first time
those two had properly interacted with him, it probably wasn’t enough for them to suddenly
be friends.

This proved correct when the other three finally stirred and Malfoy threw a look at Harry’s
bed. Zabini and Nott suddenly had other things to do that required their whole focus while
Malfoy goggled at Harry, sitting at his desk, calm as you please.

“Before you wonder about it – yes, I found the robe and the shoes. But what made you think
those were my only ones?”

Malfoy huffed and disappeared into the bathroom. Crabbe and Goyle followed soon. And
when Harry heard the shower shut off, he started putting away his things.

“You might want to be ready to leave”, he told Zabini and Nott.

The two exchanged a look and began packing their things without comment.

As someone who had bought his fair share of Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop items,
Harry knew how most of their things worked. When he had taken a look at his “shampoo”,
the smell had been very familiar. After all, he had some similar stuff buried somewhere in his
trunk. And he knew that it took a while to work.

Malfoy still looked disgruntled when he came out of the bathroom, but was soon distracted
by putting his things together for the day. Every so often, he glanced at Harry, who was
leaning against the wall right next to the entrance to their dorm.

“What are you still doing here, Potter?”, he sneered.

“Evans-Potter. And I’m waiting for the right moment to sneak past Travers and co.”

The other boy stared at him.

“What? I’m not suicidal. If I don’t go out there all pink and angry, they’re gonna make me
suffer in some other way.”

“And what makes you think it’ll be any better later on?”

Something was starting to happen to Malfoy’s hair. There was a slight shimmer emerging,
beginning at his roots and bleeding into all the strands. Nott and Zabini stared.

“Answer the question, Potter!”

“Evans-Potter.”

He was smirking now, which seemed to make Malfoy even more exasperated. Nott hid a
snicker, then covered it with a cough while looking slightly horrified. Zabini just looked like
he was in awe.

“What”, hissed Malfoy.

That’s when Crabbe and Goyle exited the bathroom and stopped short, staring wide-eyed at
their friend.

“What?”

Harry prepared to run.

“Why’s your hair all pink?”, asked Crabbe, still wide-eyed.

“What?!”

Malfoy sprinted back into the bathroom, all eyes following the bright pink shock of hair with
their eyes. Zabini and Nott soon turned to look at a still smirking Harry. There was a primal
scream from the bathroom.
“Aaand that’s my cue.” Harry winked at the two. “Oh, and tell Malfoy if he goes tattling on
me, I’ll make sure everyone knows about his own pranks. And I’ve got proof. Ta.”

“Potter!!!”

Harry opened the door and secured his bag.

“What have you done to my hair?!”

3, 2, 1…

Draco Malfoy came shooting out of the bathroom, his pink hair blazing a trail of colour in the
air. It clashed beautifully with his green Slytherin tie. When he barrelled past Crabbe and
Goyle and had reached the middle of the room, Harry finally ran out of the dorm room.

It was later than usual and more students were in the common room. Some were sitting in
front of the fire place, talking. Some were waiting for their friends to go to breakfast together.
Travers’ group was sitting in such a way that they could keep an eye on the dorm entrance.
But every single one of them turned around when Harry dashed down the stairs like the devil
was after him, followed by a pink-haired, loudly shouting Draco Malfoy. There were open
mouths and bulging eyes. Conversations were stopped in mid-sentence. And by the time
anyone even thought to react, Harry had made it to the common room entrance and slipped
outside.

He ran for a bit, but it seemed that Malfoy had figured out what Harry had known from the
moment he opened the shampoo. If he was very lucky, he’d be able to use Malfoy’s anger to
lead him on a merry chase through the common room. But even furious as all get-out, even
the Malfoy heir had more sense than show his plight to the whole school. He’d probably lost
enough respect in Slytherin as it was.

Maybe this had been the wrong way to deal with the situation and would only throw embers
on the fire. But Harry found he couldn’t care less. And besides, they really shouldn’t have
started a prank war with a Potter.

Harry knew the pranks most likely wouldn’t stay this harmless and this had been the test run.
He could only hope Malfoy got the message and kept out of the whole thing.

And so it continued. Harry dodged the pranks in the morning - Tuesday saw the doorknob
being enchanted and Harry got Goyle to touch it first to turn his skin green (as if a Slytherin
would care, really now), and Thursday had everyone slipping and sliding on the ice-covered
floor to get to the door. At least Travers’ group refused to get up that early again and Harry
usually avoided them completely.

Harry went running outside along the lake to keep up his stamina – he was not getting caught
by a Gryffindor again – went to collect any morning post from the Great Hall and then got
breakfast in the kitchens. Classes while being glowered at by the Slytherins, sitting next to
his Hufflepuff friends or Ravenclaw acquaintances if it was a shared class, sitting at the
Hufflepuff table during lunch, more classes, meeting up with their study group – now missing
Hermione and Ron – dinner, some independent study - he was trying out runes on one of the
gem stones he had found - magical practice with his left hand and wandlessly, and then
sneaking into the common room just before curfew.

There was a memorable run-in with Filch, who accused him of trying to sneak around –
which, yes, was kind of the point of the whole thing. Harry swore Mrs Norris followed him
the rest of the day. There was a less memorable run-in with the same group of Gryffindors
which consisted of Harry turning around immediately and hiding in the next best secret
passage. By Thursday he was really missing his invisibility cloak. He hoped Dumbledore
would still give it to him for Christmas, but judging by the unreadable looks he was receiving
during meal times, he wouldn’t bet on it.

It was a thoroughly morose Harry who was trailing behind the group of Gryffindors excitedly
marching towards the grounds for their first flying lesson. Harry positioned himself right next
to Neville, gaining a few weirded out looks, but being steadfast in his decision. This way,
when Neville kicked off the ground too hard and too fast, Harry’s arm shot out immediately
to grab a hold of his friend’s robe. To be fair, this led to Neville sliding off the broom
completely while that shot off towards the forbidden forest, but at least the only thing he had
to show for the flying lesson were a few snickering Slytherins and bruises that would heal
immediately. He also got to keep his remembrall.

The depressing side effect was that Harry didn’t show off his flying skills and didn’t end up
on the quidditch team. Then again, he had made his peace with that months ago, as there was
not a chance in hell that Severus Snape would let him on there as a first-year anyway. He’d
probably be pushing it even when he did try-outs in his second year. Instead, Harry stuck to
comforting Neville and then continuing his dodging game with the rest of the school.

Of course it all came to a head, namely when Harry was walking to dinner on Friday and was
ambushed by an absolutely furious Hermione Granger.

“Are you happy now?”, she hissed at him, Ron glowering at him in the background.

“Happy about what exactly, Hermione?”

She huffed at him while Harry’s eyebrows rose and he had to temp down the anger rising
with them.

“Neville’s in the hospital wing and it’s all your fault!”

Whether she had expected him to ignore it, break into tears, or angrily rebuff her, Harry
didn’t know. What she apparently hadn’t expected was him grabbing her arms and staring
right at her wide eyes.

“What happened to Neville; is he okay?”

“H-h-he…”, she stuttered, still wide-eyed and curling in on herself.

“Let go of her!”, said Ron.

Harry hadn’t even noticed and let go immediately. There was a bit of shame curling in his
gut, but it was easily pushed aside. “Hermione, what about Neville?”

She still seemed a bit out of it and, in his impatience, Harry automatically reached out with
his mind. As soon as he slid into Hermione’s surface thoughts, he regretted it. He’d wanted to
stop doing this. Even when it was necessary to visit London on his own, he still felt awful
about it. And he hadn’t lost control in forever.

“He was… he was…”

But Hermione was still stuttering around and Ron was doing nothing but glaring at him and
he had to know. So Harry directed her thoughts towards what he wanted to know. Seeing as it
was what she was thinking about right now anyway, he didn’t have to do much prodding,
which made him feel a tiny bit better.

He still got a good glimpse of her mind. It was much more orderly than any child’s mind he
had entered so far, definitely more than his own until he had started occlumency training. No
wonder she could so easily recall facts; they were all neatly stacked into tidy categories in her
mind. Even with her anger at him – for being better than her at some subjects and stealing her
thunder – and her fear for Neville and the regret at it all, he easily found what he was looking
for. It seemed that, after failing to get to Harry, they had decided to go for an easier target.

He could see them, a bunch of Slytherins, waiting for the group of Gryffindors as they were
walking to their own study session in the library. They mostly ignored Ron and Hermione,
just throwing a few taunts their way about how at least they had the sense to give up on Harry
Potter, but that one Neville Longbottom should have known better. Hermione didn’t know
who they were. But Harry did.

It wasn’t pretty. But Harry forced himself to watch the memory until the end anyway. Until
Ron started dragging Neville towards the hospital wing while Hermione ran up ahead to alert
Madam Pomfrey.

“We were attacked right outside the library and Neville…”

Harry didn’t let her finish, or stutter, or curse him any more. Instead, he turned on the spot
and made his way to the hospital wing via the shortest route possible. By the time he got
there, he was out of breath and after just a quick check to see whether there was an ambush
waiting for him too, he knocked quietly on the door and then entered.

Madam Pomfrey looked up and pursed her lips, but when she saw his distressed face, her
features softened a bit.

“I… Hermione just told me about Neville. How is he? Can I see him?”

The matron flicked her eyes towards a bed with a curtain surrounding it, then back to him.
“He’s doing better now. Luckily, his friends brought him here immediately and I managed to
undo the antlers and boils. He was still hit by multiple other charms and although I should
have managed to counter them all, he’s staying here for the night under supervision.” She
pursed her lips again. “Five minutes, then you leave. He needs his rest.”

Harry nodded vigorously, then stepped around the matron and past the curtain.

Neville was very pale, his skin barely a shade darker than the white hospital sheets he was
lying on. His wand was on the bedside table, as was a glass of water. His blond hair was
plastered to his head and when he slowly opened his eyes and turned his head towards him,
Harry could see a mix of emotions - something like fear and resignation that made Harry’s
stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Neville…”, he whispered.

“Hi, Harry.”

He waited for the boy to say more, but he just turned his head back to look towards the
ceiling instead.

“I came as soon as I heard it from Hermione. I… how are you?”

There was a barely perceptible shrug. “Better, now that Madam Pomfrey has reversed it all.”

“What about the students who did this?”

Another shrug. “They bragged about how they’d get away with it, so… you tell me. Said
they’d get detention with Snape anyway and he wouldn’t punish them too harshly. Mostly for
getting caught.”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing to keep the anger locked down. Of
course it would go exactly like that, especially when Snape heard who they had been
attacking and why. He may be fighting for the light, but nobody could argue that the potions
master was still an absolute asshole.

“I’m so sorry, Neville.”

Harry half expected his friend to say something like it not being Harry’s fault, or shrugging
once again. But Neville stayed silent. And the sinking feeling in his stomach grew.

“I’m not cut out for this”, he whispered. “I told the hat to put me in Hufflepuff, but it insisted
on Gryffindor. Nobody would even notice me if I was in Hufflepuff. And I’m not… I’m not
brave enough for Gryffindor. Or I wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what.”

Neville continued staring at the ceiling.

“Neville, doing what.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

He didn’t even need to hear the rest of the sentence and Harry swallowed down the tears.
They joined the anger in his gut and it all churned around and around making him sick to his
bones.

“We can’t be friends anymore. Not openly. And I’m not sure I’m brave enough for anything
else either.”

Harry swallowed it all down. All the emotions. All the hurt. All the pain.

“I… I don’t blame you.” He tried to mean it. He really did. “I…”

Neville was still staring at the ceiling, though Harry could see tears brimming in his eyes –
probably as much for Harry as for himself. Always the coward, always the shy, scared boy.
The disappointment to his family and now his friends.

And Harry didn’t know what to do.

“I hope you feel better soon. And if you change your mind, let me know.”

Harry didn’t wait around for answers. He barely managed to thank Madam Pomfrey and then
rushed out of the hospital wing, ignoring anyone and everyone in his way and not even
putting up the notice-me-not. A few Slytherins sneered at him, but recoiled when he levelled
them with a death glare. He could hear Mehen hissing from his sleeve, asking why his pulse
was so erratic, why he was running, was he being chased?

He stalked past the troll tapestry on the seventh floor, fury in his mind and in his veins and
regret on his tongue, not even knowing what he was wishing for and still diving into the room
as soon as the door appeared. He barely noticed what the room looked like, only that it was
safe and that it was empty.

And then he let go.

There was a storm inside of him, twisting and growing and suddenly it wasn’t inside of him
at all, but raging throughout the room. There was nothing there to break, but Harry tried
anyway as wave after wave of anger and grief had him spitting curse after curse at the floor,
at the walls… He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but he was too angry to even
wipe them away.

It was only when he could feel Mehen’s tongue flick against the same cheeks and the
soothing hissing sounding in his ears that his magic flow finally tapered out and he sank to
the floor. When he glanced at the wall, the stone he had been targeting with diffindos had a
grove running through it.

:Harry, please talk to me.:

The fact that Mehen sounded almost desperate brought him back from the brink some more.

:I’m sorry for worrying you, Mehen.: He stroked the scales of his familiar, for the first time
wishing the snake was something cuddly, with fur that he could sink his face into. :Some
Slytherins attacked Neville. And now he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.:
 The snake wound its way around Harry’s hand while still pressing its face against Harry’s
cheeks. :That doesn’t sound like he’s a very good friend.:

The comment just made the tears come back. :He’s just a child. We all are. And… nobody
should be expected to brave corridor attacks for me. I… get it, in a way. But it still hurts.:

Mehen didn’t say anything else, just continued to hiss wordlessly to him.

Was he even a child anymore? With seven years of extra memories – what did that make
him? He didn’t feel like an adult. And yet he had memories of war and destruction and he’d
had to grow up too fast to make sense of it all. And then he’d thought that, because of it, he
could take on a whole house and keep his old friends too. What madness. What arrogance.

The sadness left way to exhausted emptiness and the burning anger turned cold. There was
still a hole in his chest, and while it had just gotten bigger, there was something filling it up
now. There was a chilling rage and the knowledge that they would pay. Oh, they would pay.
Harry could deal with it all, planning and plotting and sneaking around. But now his friends
had been targeted. And that he would not forgive.

:Sleep, Harry. You’ve exhausted yourself.:

He blinked open his eyes, which had fallen close, to see a bed standing in the room.

:Have to get back to common room. Curfew…:

Mehen’s tongue flicked against his cheek again. :I will watch over you. And I will wake you
early enough to get you to the common room. But for now, sleep.:

Harry did. There were no dreams at all, just a gaping emptiness in his mind and body that
was only slowly filling up with tendrils of magic.

This evening was the first one Harry entered the common room and let himself be seen.
There were astonished looks, some glares and a lot of smug grins directed his way. If they
had expected a crying, shivering wreck, they were sorely disappointed. Multiple grins faded
when they met the dark and angry eyes of one Harry Evans-Potter. He could hear the
whispers start up behind him when he entered his dorm and then fell into his bed, barely
scraping together enough energy to use the spells to turn his bed into a safe space.

What do I do if they don’t even respect me?

Then you force them to.

Chapter End Notes

Things are slowly coming to a head. After all, attacking Harry’s friends makes things
personal. I swear, that boy… people can try to kill him outright and he won’t even
flinch, but go after his friends… Well. We shall see.
 Let's have a toast
Chapter Summary

What do you do if all your friends leave you? Have some new ones find you.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

He managed to avoid Susan and Hannah until Charms on Monday where they cornered him
in the classroom.

Harry was in a bad mood already because every single item in the dorm room had come
flying straight at him this morning, only stopped by his hastily-conjured shield charm. He
was so glad Walburga had drilled that one into him, not caring one whit it was supposed to be
way over his power level.

His dorm mates hadn’t been amused either because most of said items had been theirs, so the
general atmosphere had been rather chilly. That’s why Harry had decided to sit away from
everyone, but was not surprised the two Hufflepuffs sat down on either side of him anyway.

“It’s not your fault, Harry”, Susan said in lieu of a greeting.

He sighed. “I know. But it doesn’t matter because they’ll continue to go after Neville anyway.
Or you two.”

“Harry…”

He shrugged off Hannah’s hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want them to hurt you next. So…
please leave me alone. For now.”

“For now?”, whispered Hannah.

He turned his head just enough to smirk at her. “I’m working on it. Give me a month or so.
But until then, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

“Anyone else but you, you mean”, Susan said, while tugging on some bracelets she was
wearing and looking worried.

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry could see the Slytherins watching them intently, Malfoy
smirking at the two girls. The cold rage raised its head again, but Harry pushed it down. Not
now. And not Malfoy. He was small fry, in the larger frame of things.

“And you think we’ll just let you?” Hannah sounded almost affronted.
“Uhmm… I’d appreciate it?”

She just smiled at him and bumped his shoulder with hers. “Compromise then. You sit with at
least one of us in Charms and Astronomy and we try to meet secretly in the library at least
twice per week. And on the weekends. Deal?”

“You sure?”

Susan grinned at him from the other side. “Of course we are. We’re Hufflepuffs, remember?
Loyalty and friends and all that?”

“Okay, it’s my turn first”, Hannah decided. “You can get him in Astronomy.”

And that’s how Harry found himself being shared between two badgers. It was a deeply
disturbing experience that made him feel all warm and loved.

It turned out they were the only two people in the castle still associating with him. The
Gryffindors obviously hated him more than ever, the other Hufflepuffs, while still protecting
Hannah and Susan, were scared of being seen with him, the Ravenclaws tried to stay away
from the whole disaster in general, and the less said about the Slytherins, the better.

Even the teachers gave him more side glances than before. While Quirrel still seemed mostly
thoughtful, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick looked at him with badly concealed
worry. That might be because he didn’t come to any meals in the hall and instead went
straight to the kitchens for lunch and dinner, though. The charms professor let him stay
behind a few times, discussing spells, maybe in a bid to cheer him up, maybe to make Harry
confide in him. At least the former kind of worked. After a few days, Professor Sprout
outright asked whether he got enough food and then gave him five points for discovering the
kitchens on his own and slipped him a chocolate frog.

The elves in the kitchen, meanwhile, plied him with everything from bowls of fruit to
Cornish pasty and wouldn’t let him leave until he’d cleared off at least three plates a meal for
about a week. And when he faltered, even Mehen kept hissing at him that he should get some
energy back. Harry could feel a slight tug on his familiar bond, which only happened when
the snake was really worried about him – so he finished everything that was put in front of
him. Then again, he had used up more magic at once than probably since the Dursley
Christmas Disaster, so he could understand the worry.

It was still obvious to everybody that he was alone most of the time. While walking to class,
while studying in the library… Even with his promise to Susan and Hannah, he had a lot of
time on his hands.

Good thing he had a lot to do.

Even with Kreacher’s help, sorting through stacks of broken, cursed and dangerous items
would take months, if not into the next school year. The completely broken ones were put to
the side and the dangerous ones vanished by Kreacher, where to, Harry neither knew nor
asked. The biggest stack was put into trunks – also found in the chaos – and Kreacher would
sell it all as soon as possible. A smaller mountain was for stuff that was slightly broken, but
Harry was sure they could repair. Harry was even sure there was some goblin-made stuff in
there, which he carefully transferred to an extra chest he had Kreacher bring to Grimmauld
Place immediately. Sometimes he found some interesting things to keep or experiment with,
like the glass baubles that were probably leftover Christmas decoration - which, he found,
had tiny spaces for runes to be carved into.

And then there was the vanishing cabinet. Kreacher had snuck it into the room late at night
and hidden it at the very back. It was an exact copy of the one from Borgin and Burkes, down
to the runes at the bottom, as far es Harry could tell. He had to fight the urge to step in and
transport himself to Grimmauld Place because he could really use a face to face discussion
with Aunt Walburga about what was going on. But he had sorted through his memories and
didn’t want to end up like Montague, trapped in between the cabinets, spinning his way round
and round for days.

He’d asked Kreacher if he could apparate Harry too, but they both decided against it. While
Dumbledore might not notice students sneaking out every now and then, being apparated out,
even by a house elf, might trigger an alarm of some sort at the very least. It especially made
sense that the founders would have put it into the school wards, knowing that Helga
Hufflepuff had invited the Hogwarts house elves personally.

What he could do was bring the cabinet from Grimmauld Place, which Harry figured was
working properly. If he compared the two, maybe he would find the faulty parts of the runic
equation. If not… Draco Malfoy had fixed one in his sixth year, so Harry could do it in his
first. Or maybe second. Or… well.

Harry also started reading up on vanishing cabinets in the library, got the stone snakes to
collect information about Travers and his ilk, continued practising magic with and without his
wand and he made a routine of the morning runs around the lake. He had actually managed to
get the correct runes onto a gem stone too and was now experimenting with easy alterations
he had come up with.

As it turned out, there were different runic languages that worked like sort of commands for
magical objects. If you wanted to, say, make a stone glow, you chose a stone with inherent
magic and carved the rune for light from an alphabet your were familiar with. Of course, the
downside was that it would glow continuously, so you had to put more runes as an on and off
switch. If you wanted it to flash, change colour, be brighter or dimmer, have a delayed
reaction or do literally anything you could think of - you only needed the right combination
of runes. The problem, of course, was that runes were old and there were ongoing discussions
about specific runes and their meaning, as well as rune clusters, changing meaning depending
on which runes were next to each other, word order… not to mention putting runes from
multiple different alphabets together.

It was complicated and Harry loved every bit of it. He found himself fascinated by the logic
behind it, but also the way you could experiment easily. For now, he stuck to easy runes from
one alphabet, but it was almost effortless to him and pretty fun once you got past memorising
runes.

All in all, Harry was very busy, if a bit lonely.

 -

By week two, Harry was pretty sick of the Room of Requirement and the library and was
trying to come up with places to hide. What he found was that nobody went back to the
underground harbour they had arrived in. Which meant when he wanted to practice, Harry
often left the castle to sidle down the stone staircase and sit behind the ivy curtain, lighting up
the cave with spells. It was kind of relaxing, sitting with his feet dangling right above the
water and listening to the waves crashing against the stone. Sometimes he swore he could see
the giant squid peeking in.

After a week of that, someone found him while he was practising a copying spell on some
random pieces of parchment.

“What’re yeh doin’ here, Harry?”

How a man of Hagrid’s size had managed to sneak up on him, Harry would never understand,
but he still lost his balance and barely kept himself from toppling into the Black Lake. Hagrid
immediately caught one of his flailing arms and pulled him onto solid ground.

“Mr Hagrid! What are you doing here?”

His eyes immediately scanned the room because Mehen used his time hiding here to slither
around freely. Harry caught a glimpse of green scales at the very back and gave a sharp jerk
with his head to tell his familiar to keep hiding for now.

The half-giant fidgeted with one of the many pockets of his black overcoat, then sat down on
the stone ledge next to Harry’s with a huff. Harry eyed the structure, but it seemed to hold.

“Jus’ call me Hagrid. Everyone does. I saw yeh walkin’ down here the las’ few days. An’ yer
never at the meals an’ I was… well, I was worried about yeh.”

There was some emotion glittering in his black eyes and Harry thought about how it must
have been for him. A boy, at least twice the size of everybody else. Even in Gryffindor,
maybe especially in Gryffindor, he wouldn’t have had many friends and probably spent a lot
of his time prowling the grounds. Maybe that was why he’d become the groundskeeper after
his wrongful expulsion in the first place.

“I’m okay.” Harry shrugged, though the warmth in his chest was growing. “Well, maybe not
okay. None of the Slytherins like me because of the whole thing with my parents and Vol…
You-Know-Who – which I don’t even remember! Apart from a green light and… But
anyway. And the others don’t like me because I’m a Slytherin, even though I haven’t done
anything to anyone and now everybody is scared to be friends with me.”

He didn’t even know where that rant had come from. Half of it was, he admitted, designed to
make Hagrid like him. Because he missed Hagrid. Desperately. And with everything else
going on, he’d had no idea how to approach the man. Not that any of what he’d said was
untrue. The other half had just snuck in because even though he’d never talked to him in this
timeline, he remembered all the cosy afternoons spent in Hagrid’s hut, talking about all the
things that bothered him, eating rock-hard cookies and drinking tea that had stewed maybe a
tad too long over the fire.

“Oh… Come here, yeh…” The giant patted him awkwardly on the back. “Have yeh been
eatin’, Harry? Cuz yeh’ve not been eatin’ in the Hall the las’ week…”

“I’ve found the kitchens, Hagrid.”

Harry was sure there was a big smile hiding behind the wild, tangled beard. “Course yah did.
Yer dad found it in his firs’ month too. Got into the good graces o’ the upper years by stealin’
McGonagall’s scotch supply. She was furious with him, she was.”

He’d never heard that story about his father, but it sounded exactly like something he would
have done.

“Yeh look a lot like him.” He glanced at Harry. “Well, yeh got the hair tamed a tad better than
he ever did. But yeh’ve got yer mom’s eyes.”

“I know. My aunt showed me pictures of my mum. I live with her and my cousin – they’re
both squibs.”

“…they treat ya right, they did?” There was a hint of worry in his voice and Harry wondered
what Hagrid had noticed, seeing as he’d never met them. Maybe it was him being sorted into
Slytherin that set off the alarm bells.

“My aunt and cousin do, yes. But my uncle… He… he wasn’t very nice.” Harry curled in on
himself a bit. “But Aunt Petunia threw him out after he… Well.”

“Good on yer aunt then.”

“She’s okay. And Dudley is pretty great. I’m gonna teach him some of the stuff we learn
here. Obviously not Charms or Transfiguration or anything you need a wand for. But he can
still do stuff like Herbology and Potions and History of Magic. And he’s definitely gonna
love Care of Magical Creatures; he’s read Fantastic Beasts ten times already. If not more.”
Harry chuckled a bit. “He’s got a thing for dangerous animals.”

“They’re jus’ misunderstood”, mumbled Hagrid. “Most o’ them are real nice once yeh get ta
know them.”

“Probably. The shop clerk didn’t like Hedwig either – she’s my owl. Said she bit people and
was vicious. But she’s nice to me.” Maybe because he had the advantage of future
knowledge, remembering exactly where her favourite spots to be scratched were.

“See? Yer the firs’ person to understan’ that. Maybe Charlie Weasley does, too. He was a
student here a while back. Workin’ with dragons now, he is.” Hagrid looked wistful.

“Not that I don’t enjoy our conversation, Hagrid, but… It’s getting a bit chilly down here.
Can we meet again some time?”
It had indeed gotten cold. Not that Harry was particularly bothered, but Mehen was still
hiding behind some rocks and must be very uncomfortable by now. He hadn’t gotten the hang
of that permanent warming charm yet.

“Oh! Course. Yeh prob’ly wanna get back ter the common room.”

Harry snorted. “I really really don’t. I’ll probably hide out in the library for a bit. Do some
more research. Or I’ll walk around the grounds to take some photos. My cousin asked for
some because he wants to see Hogwarts and my aunt got me a camera that can take moving
pictures, so I’ve been sending them loads of photos.”

“Yeh… yeh could come te my place. Got a little hut down that way. I could make yeh some
tea?”

“I’d love that, Hagrid.” Harry smiled at him and it felt like the first real smile in weeks. When
Hagrid offered him his hand, Harry took it.

“Alright then. Off yeh go.”

He giggled a bit when Hagrid easily pulled him to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Hagrid’s beetle eyes were glittering at him from behind the mane of wild hair and he winked,
then turned around. Harry quickly looked around, holding out his hand for Mehen. There was
a twinkle of green in the fading light, then the snake was once more wound around his wrist.
Funny enough, Harry thought Hagrid might be the only person to support him keeping a
venomous snake at a school. Then again, he’d immediately run to Dumbledore because he
couldn’t keep a secret for the life of him.

“Yeh comin’, Harry?”

“On my way!”

It was almost like he remembered - sitting in Hagrid’s hut, Fang slobbering all over him,
dipping raisin rock cakes into tea in the hopes they would become somewhat edible… it felt
like he’d been doing it for years and at the same time like he’d been missing it for just as
long. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, adding to the homely atmosphere and illuminating
the dried herbs, unicorn hair and decorative pieces of gnarly wood hanging under the ceiling.

Hagrid kept talking about the types of creatures he was dealing with all the time, what his
duties as a groundskeeper and keeper of keys were and Harry got some more stories about his
parents out of him as well.

When he finally stood at the doorstep of Hagrid’s hut, saying goodbye, the sun had long set.

“Thanks for having me, Hagrid.”

“You sure yeh’ll be fine getting’ back on yer own?”

“Of course - though I’d love to visit you again soon. Maybe meet some of those magical
creatures you’ve been telling me about?”
“Sure! Yeh jus’ come right up if yeh need someone te talk with.”

“And you just send me an owl if you want company.”

“I’ll do that, Harry.”

“Bye, Hagrid!”

When he turned around for one last look, he saw Hagrid standing in the open doorway, light
spilling around his tall frame, waving at him. It made something in his chest loosen that had
been lost for a while now and when Harry waved back, he felt better than in weeks. And
when the first Slytherins he encountered scowled at him, he just smirked back.

Seeing as Susan and Hannah only had contact with him during Charms and Astronomy and
only one at a time, nobody had found out about their study sessions at the very back of the
library yet and nobody dared to try and attack Hagrid, Harry’s friends were safe. That also
meant the anger needed another outlet.

By the beginning of October, it was common knowledge in Slytherin to stay away from the
first year boy’s dorm if you valued your sanity. Harry had so far successfully countered
everything the other Slytherins had thrown at him and continued avoiding the common room
if anyone who meant him harm was there. Outside of the Slytherin quarters, he was virtually
untouchable because he knew the castle shortcuts and hiding places like the back of his hand.

That left the group stooping to sneaking Travers in at night to create spell traps to catch
Harry. It had started innocuously enough with more pranks, trying to spell his feet to the floor
if he stepped on a specific tile, spelling his curtains shut from the outside, reversing his
knees, and continuing to try and break into his trunk. Harry had taken to keeping any
valuables in the Room of Requirement just in case. He still had to sleep in the dorm, though,
or Snape would have his hide. Snape would also have his hide if he started pulling pranks
himself, so he had to wait for the perfect moment to retaliate.

Sadly, that day was not today, even though it was the first time the spell waiting for him was
more than borderline dark. Whoever had snuck in tonight had filled the area surrounding
Harry’s bed with venomous snakes. Pip had managed to warn him, though it had been mostly
unnecessary due to the hissed complaints about the cold stone floor that had woken Harry up
early in the morning in the first place.

When Harry slid open the curtains, he blinked at the truly astounding amount of snakes that
suddenly lifted their heads, blinked back at him and then converged on his bed.

:Attack!:

:Must attack the human in this bed!:

:Bite him!:

:Strangle him!:
:STOP.:

A wave of stillness rippled through the approaching snakes. There were some as thick as his
arm, some as thin as his fingers. Some were blending into the stone in greys and browns,
some were more colourful. Harry had spent enough time with Mehen to interpret their looks,
no matter the species, as confusion.

:Who ordered you to attack me? And were your orders to scare me, or actually kill me?:

The snakes blinked again, but one brave one slithered forward a bit. :A speaker! They did not
tell us you were a speaker!:

Harry ran a hand over his face to try and relax. Breathe. In and out.

:They don’t know I am. They’re my enemies, so them not knowing helps me.:

:That makes sense.: The snake flicked its tongue and looked around. :It was a really big boy
who put us here, though two others helped make us. And the little one with white hair let us
in. They ordered us with magic to attack you. But we won’t attack a speaker.:

Harry sighed. So Malfoy hadn’t even learned from pink hair, sliding all over the place and his
things flying through the dorm room that these pranks were just bad for everybody. This
probably wouldn’t do the trick either, but he might as well try.

:You’ll probably disappear to wherever you came from in a while, but would you mind
helping me with a little something until then?:

The snakes eyed each other, then jerked their heads at what had apparently become their
leader. :We don’t have anything better to do anyway, speaker.:

:Perfect. Can you surround all the beds too and scare the other boys here? Hiss at them a bit,
maybe snap at their ankles? But don’t bite them or hurt them, okay?:

:Sure, no problem.:

And that was how the rest of the boys woke up surrounded by snakes. The first one to notice
was Zabini, who barely managed to jerk his legs back onto the bed when he had tried to go to
the bathroom. What followed were some Italian curses that sounded truly inspired. It took a
while for him to calm down.

“Ma che diavolo... Evans-Potter, what is going on?”

Harry, who was tucked into his bed, put down the book he had been reading to meet Zabini’s
eyes. “It seems this is the newest attempt to get a rise out of me. Oh, and you better not touch
them. Most of these are venomous, I think.”

Zabini’s eyes went wide and he pulled his legs to his chest. “Venomous?! Are they trying to
kill you?!”

Harry gave him a long look and watched the other boy swallow.
“You can’t be serious.”

Harry refrained from telling a Sirius Black joke. “It’s the only conclusion I can come to. Not
that I didn’t expect it. But yes, it’s a bit upsetting.” He went back to reading his book, but
could still feel his dorm mate stare at him.

“Upsetting… you’re absolutely mad, do you know that? What are we going to do?”

“I think they were conjured with serpensortia, so they should vanish soon enough. Maybe not
soon enough to be able to get to our first lesson on time, but… that’s not just my problem,
now, is it?”

Zabini seemed to think that through for a few seconds. “But… it’s Friday.”

“Yes.”

“And the first period is Potions.”

“Yes.”

“…MALFOY, get your ASS OUT OF BED!”

There was some flailing from the bed opposite them and Draco Malfoy, hair atypically
ruffled, drew the curtains to the side. Harry pretended to still read his book, but kept sneaking
glances at the other two.

“What the hell is wrong with you Zabini?! I was still… oh Merlin, why are there so many
snakes?!”

“I don’t know; you tell me”, Zabini shot back. “Evans-Potter says they’ll vanish eventually.”

“That’s okay then… Why are you still looking at me like that?”

“We have Potions first thing.”

That had to sink in again for a minute until even Malfoy was cursing up a storm. “Potter, fix
this!”

Harry ignored him. By now the last three people in the room began to move. No wonder with
all the screaming.

“Potter! This is your fault!”

Harry turned another page of his book.

“Evans-Potter!”

“Yes, Malfoy?” Harry put the book away; he wasn’t getting anything else done anyway.

“Get rid of them!”

“I assure you, I have absolutely no idea how they could have ended up in the dorm, so I don’t
think it’s my responsibility to get rid of them.” He didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm.

“But…”

They were interrupted by a truly mind-shattering scream from Goyle’s bed. He was staring
horror-stricken at the snakes surrounding his bed, hissing menacingly. Harry soon watched
with detached amusement as the large boy tried to desperately climb the bed, only to slide
down and have his feet end up ever closer to the snakes snapping at his ankles.

“Getthemoutgetthemoutgethtemoutget…!!!”

“I take it he doesn’t like snakes very much?”

“Terrified of them”, answered Malfoy.

“You do know they are venomous? Should we tell him?”, mused Harry.

The Malfoy heir blanched and started screaming at his friend to stay on the bed and not
move. Well, that answered that question then. At least he didn’t have to deal with one of his
room mates trying to kill him. Not on purpose, anyway.

Soon there were five boys cowering on their beds, eyeing the snakes surrounding them
suspiciously. The reptiles had taken his request to heart and seemed to be having a blast with
it, hissing furiously while baring their fangs.

“Alright. What now?”, asked Zabini. “We can’t stay here. Snape will kill us. We might as
well brave poisonous snakes.”

“Venomous”, corrected Harry.

“Huh?”

“If you have to eat it for it to kill you, it’s poisonous. If it bites you to kill you, it’s
venomous.”

“Not the point, Evans-Potter.”

Harry shrugged. He saw one of the snakes wink at him and muffled a snicker. “Alright. I
think I can get us out. Do you all have your books in reach?”

Two nods, three head-shakes and Harry sighed. You’d think they would learn. It took a while
to sort out whose stuff was where, but Harry took pity on them and soon floated their school
material towards reaching hands. Then he organised his year mates in such a way that they
were ready to sprint at a moment’s notice and, while rummaging in his own bag, managed to
whisper some instructions to the snakes.

Then Harry proceeded to float all school books and other things that weren’t needed to the
floor, creating barriers to form small paths from each bed to the door.
The hissing continued, which sounded dangerous to everyone else, but Harry heard the hissed
instructions for what they were while the snakes started moving back from the books. Harry
continued moving books and carefully pushing back snakes. As soon as he gave the signal,
Goyle was the first person running full-pelt out of the dorm and vanishing out of the
Slytherin common room door in a matter of seconds. The others weren’t far behind.

Harry hissed a quick thanks to the snakes, then slammed the door shut behind them all,
ignoring the once again gaping mouths that greeted them in the common room. Slytherin
probably hadn’t seen this much action for a while.

Crabbe had already started running after Goyle. Malfoy sneered, though Harry could see the
dread building in his eyes. Nott gave him an indecipherable look and a thankful nod. Zabini,
funny enough, walked a part of the way with him.

“Thanks, Evans-Potter. That was…” He shuddered. “Well. Thank you.”

“I’d say no problem, but I’d be lying.”

The other boy bit his lip. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Quite.”

“And dangerous.”

“U-huh.”

“…you could get Snape. As sour as he can be, if there’s students in danger, he would act.”

Harry rather doubted it and his grimace told Zabini as much. For every other student that
might be correct, but he was a special case after all. Snape wouldn't believe a thing Harry told
him without cold, hard proof. And memories didn't seem to count.

“…anything else you plan to do about it?”

Harry thought about that for a bit, then smiled at the Zabini heir. It wasn’t even a mischievous
or snarky one. “I’ve got some ideas.”

“Good.”

Zabini nodded and started walking a bit faster, probably to make it to the last remnants of
breakfast before sprinting to Potions. Harry just continued on to the kitchens to grab a
sandwich for the way.

Enough of the “pranks” had gotten so bad that some of the outcome would be non-reversible
or even lethal, so Harry decided his plan needed adjusting. Even just two days ago he had
walked past Zabini’s bed and the curtains had tried to strangle him - much to the shock of
both him and the bed’s owner - only to step on the bathroom rug that almost tried to bite off
his foot. But it was always targeted at him and usually only his interference spread the
mayhem to the rest of the dorm.
Snape eyed them weirdly in Potions, especially when Goyle’s hands continued to shake so
much that he wasn’t allowed to hold a stirring rod. It didn’t help that Harry finally began
testing one of his theories about the man and kept making eye contact.

But Zabini was right. This was getting ridiculous and he had to do something about it. So,
after classes finished for that day, Harry went to the owlery to finally send off that package to
Dudley.

Harry had other problems first, though, because he was still trying to find a place where he
could hide from everybody. The Room of Requirement was usually occupied by Kreacher,
who was enthusiastically sorting through things. Hagrid found him at the underground
harbour more often than not nowadays. That usually ended with Harry trudging after him (he
couldn’t help himself), joining him on his groundskeeper duties of feeding animals and
tending the outskirts of the forbidden forest, taking moving photos for Dudley all the the
while. And even though Harry never said no to a cup of tea with the half-giant, he wanted a
completely private place.

So. Chamber of Secrets it was.

There was still the fact that Quirrelmort was in the castle and theoretically had access. But
seeing as last time no basilisk had been released in his first year, Harry figured it would
probably work out for him. There was also the issue of said giant basilisk being alive and
possibly waiting there for him, but Harry figured it should be asleep or something. Hopefully.

He waited until dinner when people were less likely to interrupt him, then made his way to
the second floor girl’s bathroom. Immediately, the sunny day turned into gloom and grey with
dirty windows keeping the light out and the candle stubs not providing much either. The
mirror was cracked, the sinks looked like someone had taken a chisel to them, one cubicle
door hung off its hinges and the floor was dull and dirty, probably from the continuous
flooding, thanks to Myrtle.

“You’re not a girl.”

Myrtle’s head was sticking out of a toilet bowl and Harry held back a sigh. Apparently he had
to talk his way out of this one and try again some other time when the ghost wasn’t there.

“Are you Moaning Myrtle?”, he asked.

“Why do people keep calling me that! Moaning Myrtle. Miserable Myrtle. Pimpled,
bespectacled…”

“If you want me to call you something else, just let me know”, said Harry. “People get my
name wrong all the time and I know how much it sucks.”

The ghost stopped in her tirade and pushed herself a bit further out of the toilet bowl. Harry
tried not to stare.
“You’d do that for me?”

“But of course! It’s just basic courtesy. So?”

“Oh. You can just call me Myrtle.” She paused for a moment. “And you are?”

“My name is Harry.”

“Harry. Nice to meet you!”, she actually brightened for a bit. “But why are you here? Just to
make fun of me? To see the girl stuck in the toilet?” Big translucent tears started brimming in
her eyes.

“Of course not. We’ve established that I’ll listen to you about what you want to be called.
And nobody wants to be called names.”

“Oh. Well, if you want to ask me about my life, that was nothing but misery and being bullied
and now even in death people continue to make fun of me!” She let out a wail and splashed
some of the water around.

“I can… come back when you’re feeling better?”, Harry asked.

“But I’m never feeling better! I will never ever feel better again because I am… dead!” She
gave a loud sob and dove head-first into the toilet. Harry just about got a shield-charm off
before being doused in toilet water.

“Well that went to hell quickly…”

Suddenly he could hear loud footsteps and before he could think about hiding or entering the
Chamber, the bathroom door was flung open. Being face to face with Albus Dumbledore had
his occlumency shields slam down like the doors of a vault. He could already feel the old
man’s mind reaching for his.

Harry stared at the headmaster. The headmaster stared at him. Then he blinked, confusion in
his blue eyes turning into suspicion.

“Mr Potter…”

“Evans-Potter, sir”, he corrected automatically. He thought he could hear giggling from the
U-bend.

“Mr… Evans-Potter… what, exactly, are you doing here? This is a girl’s bathroom.”

“Seeing as we’re both not girls, headmaster, I could ask you the same.” Harry let the silence
ring for a few seconds while he ordered his thoughts in a way that would hold up under
scrutiny. “I never knew ghosts were real before I came to Hogwarts, so I’m trying to meet as
many of them as possible. Talk to them, get to know them, find out how they died, when they
lived, what they saw… that sort of thing. It’s fascinating!”

“…and you decided to start with Moaning Myrtle?”

“Don’t call her that”, Harry said. “She doesn’t like people mocking her.”

“Er…”

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Myrtle peeking out of her toilet again while he let
memories of ghosts and his interest in them play at the forefront of his mind.

“I was just about to try and coax her back out of her toilet when you barged in. You probably
scared her off. Poor Myrtle. She’s got enough on her plate.”

The ghost’s thick, horn-rimmed glasses were out completely now and there was definite awe
in her eyes. (Oh no. Not again.) Dumbledore, however, looked stumped.

“I’ve got a list, you see”, Harry continued. “I wanted to talk to Myrtle first because she’s both
the easiest and most difficult ghost to find. While she’s got a specific room she’s haunting,
she’s not always there and not always in the mood to talk, I heard. While the house ghosts
and the others are often just around the castle. Besides, I had to start somewhere. And I
wasn’t going to start with the Bloody Baron or Peeves.”

“This is still a girl’s bathroom, Mr Potter.”

“Evans-Potter, sir. I waited until dinner so that the chance of actually running into a girl in
here wasn’t high. Besides, not many students come in here anyway.” He shrugged. “Probably
all the dirt that’s piled up. You should really do something about that, sir. Imagine poor
Myrtle having to spend her afterlife in this mess…”

There was another wail from the toilet bowl and Dumbledore finally seemed to notice the
ghost.

“Ah, Myrtle. How good to see you. I hear you’ve been having a chat with young Harry
here?”

Harry balled his fists, but kept his real emotions locked up tight. Act like the innocent boy
you’re playing. Believe what you’re saying. Think like him. Be him.

“Oh yes! He was ever so nice to me. Not like other people I could mention.” Her expression
darkened. “And it is rather dirty in here. But of course nobody cares about Moaning Myrtle! I
was forgotten in life, and now, so I am in death!”

Another splash and the ghost had disappeared down the drain. “Now you’ve scared her off
again, headmaster”, said Harry, looking at the man in disapproval. “I’ll just have to come
back then.”

Shrugging, he left the bathroom, followed by a still very confused Dumbledore. “Mr
Potter…”

“Evans-Potter.”

“…Evans-Potter – it is still a girl’s bathroom, no matter the other circumstances surrounding

it. Take this as a warning for now, but I don’t want to see you here again.”
Harry shrugged. “Fine. I’ll just knock and ask Myrtle to come out next time. Thank you for
not taking points, headmaster.” He turned to leave.

“Are you going to dinner, my boy?”

Harry fought hard to ignore the endearment. “Haven’t been there in weeks.”

“That is very concerning.”

“The Slytherins haven’t been very welcoming so far.”

“If I can be of any help… maybe I could request a re-sort from the hat on your behalf?”
Dumbledore fell into step beside him, eyes twinkling. “I’m sure if it heard you are starving
yourself instead of eating with your house mates, he could be convinced…”

“No thank you, sir. I think Slytherin suits me just fine. And they’ll come around, I’m sure”
Harry could see Dumbledore’s mouth turn down at the corners and went on “and I’m not
starving. I’m completely capable of getting my food from the kitchens, sir.”

“Ah. Self-sufficiency, very good. Just try not to eat too much treacle tart”, he winked and
Harry gave him a lopsided smile.

They reached the Great Hall, where Harry turned to face the headmaster one more time. “I
guess we part ways now. It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Mr P… Evans-Potter.”

Harry gave him a genuine smile for the first time, waved once more and then continued
descending the stairs towards the dungeons.

Soon, he was sitting in the kitchen, surrounded by stressed house elves who were putting
everything together to send up to the house tables, but still found time to set aside a bowl of
everything for Harry. Not that they weren’t used to it by now. Harry carefully locked every
other thought away and instead started making a list of ghosts on a spare sheet of paper.

He ate, he wrote down the house ghosts and others, he re-read some parts of his
Transfiguration essay, and then continued with the rough draft for the Potions one they had
gotten this morning.

The first time he let himself think about what had happened was when he was tucked away
safely in his bed, the curtains drawn and silence reigning in the dorm room.

:So. That was Dumbledore:, commented Mehen. :He was… strange.:

:Yes, he was, wasn’t he.:

Somewhere deep inside his mind he had been mulling over this meeting for hours now, but
was glad he finally felt safe enough to bring it to the forefront of his mind. There had to be
some sort of ward on the bathroom that told Dumbledore when people entered it. How else
could he explain the speed with which the headmaster had shown up? But was it always there
or because Voldemort was currently possessing a teacher?

There were multiple things wrong with either of those lines of thinking. If it wasn’t always
there, why was the ward up now? Just because Quirrel had Voldemort sticking out of the back
of his head? That would mean the headmaster knew about it. Because Harry was here and the
headmaster was suspicious? If it was always there, why hadn’t he noticed Ginny in his
second year? And for that matter, Hermione, Ron and him brewing polyjuice potion?
Something was fishy here and he would find out what it was. Eventually.

First, he had to interview all the castle ghosts to keep up with his cover story. As if he didn’t
have enough to do – no matter how interesting those conversations might turn out to be.

:Why does this shit always happen to me, Mehen?:, he groaned.

The snake did his wiggle that was the equivalent of a shrug. :Because you’re a magnet for it?:

Harry just groaned again while being laughed at by a snake.

He should have expected it, really. In fact, it was a miracle they hadn’t taken revenge into
their own hands before and tracked him down at one of his hiding places - because he was
very sure they knew them. But maybe they had better sense than Ron, at the very least, and
realised he had nothing to do with what had happened to Neville.

“Well, well, well, a little snake hiding in the kitchens.”

Harry couldn’t help the flinch at suddenly hearing voices in the kitchen and turned around to
see the Weasley twins standing at the entrance. He forced himself to relax, but tried to map
out an escape route just in case. It didn’t help that there wasn’t really one. But maybe the
elves would defend him; he had grown on them in the last few weeks.

“Hi there. Fred and George, right?”, he said.

The left twin grinned. “I see our reputation precedes us.”

Harry grinned back. “I’m truly honoured to make your acquaintance, chaos twins.”

He noticed how both of them relaxed a bit at that; it seemed he hadn’t been the only one
slightly dreading this meeting.

“So. Harry Potter. A Slytherin.”

“Evans-Potter.” He grimaced.

“Sorry, little Evans-Potter-Snake.”

“Yes, that seems to have taken a lot of people by surprise”, Harry said.
“Not you, though?”, asked the right twin.

“Not really. I wanted to be in Slytherin. If I had to guess, Ron’s probably been going on about
it in your proximity as well.”

“He may have mentioned it…”

“-once-”

“-twice-”

“-just about a hundred times.”

“I figured.” Harry sighed. “I’m not sure what to make of him. He seemed nice enough on the
train, but now he wants nothing to do with me.”

“Little snake, you don’t seem to realised how things work around here”, said the left twin.

“Oh I know exactly how things work. That’s why I’m going to change them.”

The twins gave each other an indecipherable look, then looked at him with a question in their
eyes.

“Just see the whole thing as one giant prank on the wizarding world and you’re not far off
from the truth.”

“Oh, little snake…” Both shook their heads, a glint in their eyes. “Pranks are our expertise!”

“If I need help with it, I’ll let you know”, he grinned at them. He just might, at that.

To his ever-lasting relief, the twins traded a look and then broke into pearling laughter. “Fred,
I think I like this one!”

“Yes, he has potential.” The one who seemed to be Fred (if they hadn’t swapped names
again) eyed him. “And he has found the kitchens.”

“Oh, I haven’t just found the kitchens. After all, I had a lot of free time on my hands the last
few days.”

“What have you found so far?”, asked probably-George.

“Lots of shortcuts, secret doors, secret rooms…” He shrugged. “Stuff like that.”

There was another indecipherable look. Ah. Harry had an idea what they were here for. He
could barely keep himself from grinning. At least he knew he had something to bargain with,
should he ever need anything.

“Found any of the tunnels out of the school yet?”, asked probably-George and was promptly
elbowed by his brother.
“There’s one secret passage behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that I think leads to
Hogsmeade.” The twins’ grins brightened. “I figured you knew that one, so it’s safe to tell
you. I found some other stuff too. But I’ll only trade it for secrets.”

“What kind of secrets.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll let you know when I know.”

“Sneaky, sneaky snake.”

Harry grinned at them. “The sneakiest! How else would I survive this mess.”

Another look between them. Then… “Do you know who attacked Neville Longbottom?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “Well… are you going to tell us?”

Harry thought about that for a bit. Maybe it would be easier to just sick the twins on them.
They had experience with pranks, everybody would suspect them anyway and he could still
be their man on the inside. But they had attacked Neville. And Harry had plans.

“Not right now. I’m working on it.”

“Working on what, exactly?”

Another smile, though this one was smaller and harder. “You might hear about it. Or you
might not. I’m not sure how much gets out of Slytherin and makes it to your ears.”

They exchanged another look. “There have been rumours that there’s a bit of a… prank
war… going on in the snake den. But we haven’t been able to confirm…”

“Oh, it’s real, alright. Someone is trying to get me.”

“Who’d have thought”, mused probably-George. “The snakes, being able to prank people.”

“It’s gotten rather dark, though. Nothing like what you guys are doing.”

“Dark?”

“You know… venomous snakes and such. Very Slytherin.” When the twins began to look
worried, Harry winked at them. “I sicked the snakes on the person who let them in. And
everyone else, really. No big deal.”

“George, I like the little snake more and more.”

“You’re reading my mind, brother dear.”

“Gred, at your service.”

“And Forge. Pleasure.”

“Hi, Gred! Hi, Forge! Call me Harry.”

When they held out their hands at the same time, Harry crossed his arms to shake them,
teasing another laugh out of them.

“So… any way we can help?”

“Not being mad at me might help”, said Harry. “That’s more than anyone else is doing at the
moment.”

“Except those two little badgers. You’re with them in the library sometimes”, said probably-
Fred.

Harry’s smile dropped and he looked at them sternly. “Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to
go after my friends.”

Probably-Fred held up his hands. “We won’t tell, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Probably-George was talking to one of the house elves and one of them soon came by with a
tray and three glasses of…

“You’ve never had butterbeer, have you?”, asked probably-George.

“Haven’t had a chance to sneak out so far. I’m a bit…” Harry waved his hand at the very
obvious scar on his forehead, only made more so by having his hair pulled into a pony tail
most of the time.

“Fair”, agreed probably-Fred. “But that’s why we’re here.”

Harry took his glass, but sniffed at it cautiously. “You haven’t put anything in it, have you?”

The twins looked mock-affronted. “Us? Putting stuff in drinks? Who do you take us for?”

“They not be putting anything into drink; Mipsy be paying attention”, said the small elf.

“Spoilsport”, said probably-George and the twins pouted. The elf just laughed at them and
scurried off. “We’re here too often. They don’t respect us one bit!”, he complained. “Now.
What are we drinking to?”

Harry frowned into his butterbeer, while the twins looked at him expectantly. There was only
one thing, really. “To everybody’s disapproval”, he intoned and raised his glass.

“To everybody’s disapproval”, echoed the twins with a smirk.

“I’ll definitely drink to that”, said probably-George.

“At least it won’t be boring with you, little snake”, said probably-Fred.
 Harry had to admit they were most likely right. Whatever else would happen around him and
because of him, it was bound to be interesting at the very least. If not, he’d probably make it
so.

The first ghost he interviewed was the Fat Friar, who seemed happy to talk to him and even
happier to sit with him in the kitchen for dinner. It turned out the monk had healed people of
pox, been accused of witchcraft and consequently sentenced to death, which made Harry
think “typical”. He had studied in Hogwarts under Helga Hufflepuff herself and Harry asked
him incessantly about every little detail he could think about, especially about things that
may have been forgotten.

It turned out that was most of it. While Latin and Latin spells had been around for a while
because of repeated interactions with Romans and, being a monk, the Fat Friar knew it well,
the prevalent language among the common folk during that time had been Old English.
During Hogwarts’ founding, it was the language that most founders, teachers and students
had in common. Not two hundred years later, it would transition into Middle English and any
spells or rituals it was used for were, thus, either translated or forgotten.

Harry promptly asked the monk whether he could teach him some Old English. The ghost
was delighted, though he looked at him like Harry was slightly crazy.

Harry didn’t care. Learning Old English might be helpful in discovering more of Hogwarts’
secrets - after all, it was more than likely that the founders had all spoken it and may have
used it to ward secret passages. And if there were some spells in a language that few people
spoke, they might be less likely to be countered.

Then there was one more thing about the dorm rooms that the Fat Friar had mentioned that
made Harry suddenly very very interested in the language and anything else the ghost might
have to say. If that safeguard for students still worked…

During his evening study session in the library, Harry even found a book on learning the
language, though he looked up more on the Travers family first, as well as information on life
debts.

That night, he snuck into the common room again to talk to the stone snakes. If anyone
remembered old magic from the founding times, it would be them. They confirmed the
information the ghost had given him - and then Silex warned him about another prank that
was going to take place soon.

And Harry had enough. The only plan he had for dealing with this had a 50/50 chance of
working, but that was better than ending up poisoned. So, when the package from Dudley
came back on Friday morning, Harry went to work. If he was going to suffer, he would make
damn sure everyone else would suffer with him.

Chapter End Notes

I hate it so much. Trying to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets goes is a
nightmare. The wiki says second floor. The novel I have says first floor. Then there’s the
question whether it was printed in the UK or the US because in British English the level
floor is the ground floor and in American English it’s the first floor. My edition is a US
one, so if it says first floor, that should be the ground floor. But the novel also describes
them running up from the entrance hall, which should be on the ground level. Meaning
that, theoretically, points could be made for the Chamber being either on the ground
floor, the first floor, or the second floor.

…free me from this editing hell…

At least you’ll suffer with me. Don’t worry, though. The next three chapters are (finally)
dedicated to various parts of Harry’s revenge. See if you can find some hints for what
he's up to in his one.
 What's left of me...
Chapter Summary

Stage One.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The next Saturday began by Harry being hoisted out of his bed by his feet. He was screaming
enthusiastically while dangling just below the ceiling, even though he had, of course,
expected it. The screams of his dorm mates who didn’t have that luxury were just as loud,
albeit more horror-filled - and, in some cases, sounding a bit off. The pandemonium
continued to unfold as they realised that this was not the only thing happening that morning.

After freeing themselves from the ropes that had been wound around their feet and landing,
in most cases rather ungracefully, on their beds, the first minute was spent gaping at each
other. Every one of them had bright red hair that looked suspiciously like that of the Weasley
family. Especially Malfoy wasn’t happy about it and his face had soon turned a dark red
colour to match his hair.

That might also have to do with the fact that he had realised speaking was impossible. For the
mouthy kid it must be hell on earth, Harry thought.

“Oh Merlin, I look like a Weasley”, squeaked Zabini. Then he frowned. “Oh Merlin, what’s
with my voice?”

Crabbe had started laughing at that, but was horrified to discover that instead of laughter, the
only sound coming out of his mouth was the hooting of an owl.

“What the hell is going on? Why is Malfoy’s voice gone?” It was Nott’s turn to frown. “I
though it would have hit me too, I might want to hide in the loo.”

That set off Crabbe again, who was hooting loudly and Zabini sounded like he had inhaled
helium. “Go on, Harry, you say something.”

“Sleeping very soundly on a Saturday morning, I was dreaming I was Al Capone. There's a
rumour going round, gotta clear out of town…”, sang Harry.

“No, please stop. You really can’t sing. Please.”

Harry, of course, grinned, and sang louder.

“Ugh. I’m already getting a headache”, muttered Zabini. “Goyle, why aren’t you saying
anything.”

Goyle was sitting on his bed, red hair almost invisible with his short stubble, but his eyes
were wide and terrified.

“Goyle?”

Instead of answering, Goyle just hissed at him, eyes going wider still while he clamped his
mouth shut and even put his hand in front of it for good measure.

“Oh dear.”

Harry was still singing loudly and out of tune. “Crazy, stone cold crazy, you know!”

Sadly, his mini experiment had turned out to be a bust. The spell to make someone hiss like a
snake apparently didn’t translate their words into Parseltongue. What a shame.

Amidst the hooting, hissing, Malfoy working himself into a mute rage, Nott having decided
that saying nothing was less humiliating than speaking in rhymes, Zabini squeaking and
Harry enthusiastically singing very loudly and very wrong, Harry couldn’t keep back the
grin. As soon as one of them tried to get out of bed, however, every single item in the room
flew into the air and started raining down on them.

Goyle dove under his blanket, Malfoy had grabbed the nearest book and was using it as a
shield and Zabini was desperately dodging flying objects.

“Is this going to run out? Malfoy, tell me!”, squeaked Zabini and cradled a silk shirt to his
chest as if to protect it from the onslaught.

Malfoy just got redder and continued shouting silently.

“Mi hai cagato il cazzo, I’ve had enough! We’re getting an older student to reverse this shit
because I’m not waiting until it disappears on its own this time.” He sighed. “At least we
don’t have Potions today.”

Nott seemed to agree, as they made their way to the door together, still trying to not be hit by
floating things. When they opened it, though, there was suddenly a loud male voice joining
Harry’s singing.

“Libiamo, libiamo ne’ lieti calici che la bellezza infiora…!”

“What is it now…”

Some other Slytherin students poked their heads around the entrance to the dorms, probably
to figure out where the opera was coming from. Harry, who had made his way to the door as
well by now, was just in time to see their eyes go wide when they saw the red-headed first
years looking down at them and then duck when some items came zooming at them instead.
Alone the fact that Zabini and Nott had set themselves up for ridicule for… possibly their
whole time at Hogwarts, proved just how much they had enough of the whole thing.
“Alright, we’ve got a situation. Is there anyone who can undo this shit?”

“Ah! Libiam, amor, fra’ calici più caldi baci avrà!”, now sang a choir from upstairs.

The eyes popped out more at his voice and heads turned to Nott. The boy remained tight-
lipped, though; Harry was quite disappointed.

“Tra voi tra voi saprò dividere il tempo mio giocondo…”

“Someone get Professor Snape, so from this hell we can escape!”, Nott gave up.

“I’ll go get him immediately!”, said Travers from somewhere in the back.

Harry could see Zabini freeze, then spin around wide-eyed to look at him. After all, it didn’t
make any sense for the seventh-year to offer. Unless…

“Harry…”

Harry’s eyebrows went up at the use of his first name.

“I didn’t think…”

He waved the answer away and instead sat back down on his bed, awaiting judgement day
while batting away things with a rolled-up Daily Prophet. The dorm room door had continued
to sing even when it had been closed too keep all their stuff in and only stopped after the song
was done. So, when the next opera started up - Harry did recognise Nessun dorma; Petunia
was an opera lover - he knew the cavalry had arrived in the form of a dour potions master.

“What is going on.”

The words were clipped, sharp and loud enough to be heard even over a man belting “Nessun
dorma! Nessun dorma! Tu pure, o, Principessa…” It had all of them sitting up straight
immediately.

Snape eyed them one after the other, lingering on the red hair. Then his eyes flickered to the
swarm of flying objects. When a squadron of quills came shooting right at him, a nonverbal
shield appeared right in front of them and had the items sticking out of the invisible barrier.
Then he shot a spell Harry didn’t recognise at the still singing dorm door and scowled when
the opera continued anyway.

“Explain.”

The boys traded some glances, but remained silent. Nobody wanted to be the first to
embarrass themselves in front of their professor. A few pillows bounced off Snape’s shield.

“Mr Potter.”

Oh dear.
Harry opened his mouth. “Death on two legs, you're tearing me apart. Death on two legs, you
never had a heart of your own.” He really shouldn’t have kept that forcing-you-to-tell-the-
truth part in the toffee. Maybe he could switch to Bohemian Rhapsody? I’m just a poor boy,
nobody loves me would definitely get him more sympathy, or at least not detention.

“Five points from Slytherin, Mr Potter. Mr Malfoy?”

Malfoy opened his mouth, but nothing came out and Snape’s frown intensified.

“Mr Goyle. Mr Crabbe.”

When hissing and hooting were the answers, Harry thought the teacher might explode. At
least he seemed to get the general idea. “Let me guess, Mr Nott and Mr Zabini…”

“Yes, professor”, squeaked Zabini. “We all woke up to this mess.”

Snape’s lips thinned some more and Harry swore the temperature dropped a few degrees. In
the background the door belted out “All'alba vinceró! Vinceró, vinceró!”, then fell silent.
Zabini winced. And then Snape moved.

Spells flew at all of them, their clothes, their books, even the ropes still dangling from the
ceiling. There were quiet pops when still flying items were hit and fell to the floor, the ropes
vanished, and Harry watched in fascination as more shields sprang up to protect the students
from the barrage of items.

Snape’s frown got worse when, even after continued waves of a wand at Harry that had him
tensing every time, the red hair remained.

“Mr Malfoy, you should be able to speak now.”

Everyone eyed the blond curiously.

“It wasn’t me!”, he finally burst out.

“Yes, quite. Mr Nott? Mr Zabini? Any ideas?”

Harry was curious what those two would have to say. “No idea”, said Zabini while Nott just
shook his head.

“It was Potter! It must have been!”, said Malfoy, pointing at him with a no longer blue finger.
“He wanted revenge for…” His mouth snapped shut and there was slight panic in his eyes.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy?”

“Uhm… you should ask him, is all.”

“Oh, I will. Potter, with me!”, barked the man.

Harry bit back the name correction this time and only nodded meekly, stepping towards the
teacher. When Snape opened the door, however… “Fermati, scellerato! Il ciel mi fece udir le
tue perfidie”, sang a woman’s high voice.

He could see Snape close his eyes and inhale once, twice, his lips moving slightly as if he
was praying for patience. Who knew; maybe he was. Harry was sure going to test it.

“And the rest of you…” Snape motioned towards the chaos in the room. “Clean up this
mess!”, he barked. He threw the door close with a loud bang that echoed throughout the
whole common room.

That was silent as a grave when Snape rushed through it, only interrupted by the Italian opera
still sounding from the door. Harry had to hurry to keep up, even when other students were
clearing a path for them. Most of them seemed to be a mix of curious and gleeful. Travers,
Rosier and Jugson were standing right in front of the common room door, smirking at him.

“Ah, fuggi il traditor! Non lo lasciar più dir!”, the door sang.

Harry pushed all his emotions down as far as they could go. This was the plan. Now it all
depended on how much Snape hated James Potter - and how much he loved Lily Evans.
Harry hoped he had guessed right.

By the time they had reached Snape’s office, Harry could tell the man was fuming even
through his impressive mask. He sat down in the chair behind his desk and Harry awkwardly
perched on one of the chairs in front of it. Then there was silence.

After him singing Queen and the singing door, it was almost a blessing - but just almost,
because Snape managed to make it feel cold despite the happily burning fire in the fireplace.
Harry tried to distract himself by looking at the office. It was halfway between the Great Hall
and the Slytherin dormitories and thus made of the same stone as the rest of the dungeon. The
stone walls, however, were hidden behind many shelves filled with large glass jars and potion
ingredients. When Harry looked up, he focused on the glass with something green and slimy
in it just behind the professor instead of meeting his eyes.

“I have been hearing strange rumours about the first year dorm in the last few weeks”, Snape
began. “Mr Malfoy running around with a truly astonishing hair colour, snakes chasing
students… Care to explain?”

“Well…”, said Harry. “I figured it was because, you may have noticed, Sir, the other students
aren’t exactly happy with my sorting.”

“Do go on.”

Harry swallowed and looked at the man. “I’m not sure what I can say or do here, sir. The hat
put me in the house best suited for me and I’m happy with that decision. I have no idea why
anyone else would be bothered by it. But they’ve been pranking me for weeks.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose and Harry could feel the dark thought tendrils creeping into his mind.
He made sure to shove his occlumency shields down down down as far as they would go,
burying everything he didn’t want the man to know, but throwing a good dose of
embarrassing things into the forefront of his mind as well. Some of the pranks that had hit,
like the one reversing his knees. How he had switched Malfoy’s shampoo bottle to create a
distraction. How it was getting more and more dangerous.

He was Harry Evans-Potter. He was eleven, and new to magic, and really had no idea why all
of this was such a big deal.

“So they pranked you and you thought you’d get them back?”, sneered the man. “Disrupting
life even in the common room is absolutely untenable. And with such high-level magic, too!
Someone could have gotten hurt! How dare you attempt magic so far above your level!
Hoisting them up by their feet, having the whole room in pandemonium, and…”

“Oh no, sir! I would never endanger my room mates like that! I didn’t pull anyone up by their
feet and have nothing to do with the flying stuff.”

“And the door? You can’t tell me some Slytherins would know muggle opera music? Mr
Potter….” That was almost a growl.

“It’s Evans-Potter, sir.” Though, this once, he could understand the urge to call him after his
father. “I didn’t record any music, sir! And I don’t know where to even begin enchanting a
door to do that and stopping even you from stopping the spell. I was just going to wait it all
out, actually. I figured they’d get over it eventually.”

Snape’s expression suggested that was unlikely, but Harry projected the utmost trust in that
statement. It wasn’t wrong, after all. It always helped if he truly believed what he was saying.

“Besides, why would I prank myself? I’ve got the whole school against me anyway. Only
being able to sing just got points taken off me. And red hair? It’s not like that would bother
me at all; it just reminds me of my mum. And I don’t mind the Weasleys like Malfoy does.”

Something flashed in Snape’s eyes, though Harry couldn’t quite determine what. After
glancing at Harry’s untamed mop, he also pointedly looked to the side, although the thought
tendrils stayed in his mind, probing.

“Though Ron is upset with me at the moment. About what happened to Neville, I think. Most
of Gryffindor is. If they wanted to get revenge…”

Harry shrugged and tugged at a stray strand of hair. He had actually heard the Weasley twins
talk about pranking some of the Slytherins as revenge when he had last seen them. They had
given him a week to come up with something himself before they took initiative (shove it
down).

“If you don’t believe me, I would even take veritaserum! I’ve read about it.”

Snape hadn’t looked at him at all during that monologue, but Harry continued to stare at him
as if waiting for an answer. Nobody could refuse to look when being stared at so thoroughly
with something that bright as incentive. And when he did look back, Snape was hit with a
broadside of red hair and green eyes. And Harry refused to look away.
The professor swallowed once, twice. Then he nodded sharply and looked away again. “Very
well, Mr Evans… -Potter.”

Gotcha.

“But if I find out you had anything to do with this…”

Harry nodded, keeping the cheeky you won’t find out to himself. “Thank you, professor. Do
you have any idea when the hair will go away? The others really seem to hate it. And the
door…”

Both grimaced.

“If it has not sorted itself out by tomorrow afternoon, let me know.”

“Thank you, professor.” Harry flashed him a grin and another bout of the eyes, then turned
around to leave. Just as the door closed, he would have sworn he saw a glimpse of Snape
hunching over on the desk, head in his hands.

It had been easy to plan it all, really. He just had to wait until Travers, Rosier and Jugson did
their next pranks and then make sure it hit all of them instead of just Harry. The spell to hoist
people up by their feet was much too difficult for a first-year - so Travers unwittingly gave
Harry an alibi. The spell chain to make things fly around and attack people was also too high-
level and Harry had let that play out - though he’d had Kreacher adjust the targets and had
him remove the knives that had been hidden under his bed.

The red hair was all him, though it would have faded already without the help of the Weasley
twins. And the red hair was essential. The voices had been courtesy of Gambol and Japes’
voice altering toffees that Kreacher had slipped into his dorm mates’ cups at dinner - time-
delayed, of course, to trigger in the middle of the night, while Harry had drunk his cup spiked
with the singing toffee, even though his Black bracelet had actually detected the potion in his
food and warned him by tightening around his wrist. Good to know that worked, at least.

The door had been the most difficult thing and wouldn’t have been possible without Dudley.
While enchanting it to do what it did was way above his level, Harry had finally managed to
etch runes into the green gem stone. The ones he had copied from a text book made it record
voices in its vicinity. Harry had adjusted and added more runes to tie it into a broken-off bit
of the same stone and when the two aligned, the stone would play one piece of recorded
conversation - or, in this case, opera music.

The rune stone was hidden under one of the floor tiles, the smaller part stuck into the
underside of the door. Every time the door opened or closed, the music would start again, no
spells necessary, until the song had run its course. Runes didn’t even need a lot of magic, just
a lot of patience. And they couldn’t be undone by simple spells either.

As for the opera music… Petunia fancied herself a connoisseur and Harry had sent the stone
to Dudley in his last package, instructing him on how to play some of her records and have
the stone copy them. His cousin had taken great pleasure in playing dozens of pieces to help
with the prank and Petunia had been very happy that her son was developing an interest in
music. Harry doubted his dorm mates - and most of Slytherin, as it could definitely be heard
in the common room as well - would agree with either of them.

It had all hinged on Snape. While Harry knew the man would never help him, there were a
few things that should make dealing with him in the future easier. One thing was that he only
saw his father in him. The other was that Harry could force him to see his mother and catch
him off-guard.

He’d tried it during Potions in the last few weeks in small doses, making eye contact to gauge
the reaction, for example, and also testing his occlumency by continuing to take the leftover
potion after he had handed in the sample to Snape to start his own little potions’ storage.

Snape thought he was just like his father, spoiled and only interested in playing pranks. So
yes, he would be immediately suspected just because his last name was Potter. But. These
pranks were on a level that should be unattainable for a first year, and would have been
without Travers’ unwitting help, that of the Weasley twins, and Kreacher.

And Snape didn’t want to think him clever. He took great pleasure in regarding Harry as
dumb. Dumb and arrogant. The man would also rather choke on the boil cure rather than
admit an eleven-year-old could fool his legilimency. If Harry had indeed fooled him (he
wasn’t sure yet), Snape would believe him to be blameless for at least this incident. He had
made sure not to tell a single lie to the professor and push everything else down, so… he
hoped it had worked.

And then there was Lily. Harry had some memories of what the sour man thought about his
mother (and honestly, that creeped him out more than he could say). Lily Evans had been his
whole world. He still wasn’t sure whether it was proof of his love for her that he had let her
walk away without a fight, even when she had decided to go out with his school bully. Or he
had been too far into the dark arts by that point, or given up hope, or… Harry could think
about it forever and never reach a decision - besides, he really didn’t want to think about
Snape’s love life, especially when it involved his mother.

Harry hadn’t been sure how he would react to the red hair. It could have backfired
spectacularly. But at this point, even a gamble with these stakes was better than being
poisoned in his sleep.

The way to the common room wasn’t long - it was in the dungeons too, after all - and Harry
soon stood before the stone wall. He took one more deep breath, squared his shoulders and
said the password.

The opera door was silent for now, but everyone stared at him anyway when he entered. He
could see nobody with bright red hair anywhere, so his dorm mates were probably still in the
room, waiting for that to disappear on its own.

“So, how did Snape punish you?” That was Travers, nonchalantly leaning against a column,
arms crossed and with a very smug grin on his face. “Do you have detention the rest of the
year? Do you have to scrub his cauldrons?”

“No.”
Harry continued walking, right past the older boy. He almost missed Mehen on his arm, who
usually kept an eye out to protect his back. But knowing he would have to face Snape today
who would recognise a boomslang instantly, he had decided the snake was safer with
Kreacher for today. Not that it hadn’t warranted the biggest argument they’d had so far. He
owed his familiar three big lizards at least, he had been told.

The pause had dragged on so much that Harry had almost made it to the dorm when Travers
replied: “What do you mean, no?”

“He did nothing at all to me. I told him I had nothing to do with this and he believed me.” At
least Harry hoped so. Or the man was a better actor than he thought. Then again, he was a
double agent.

“What?! He was furious when he marched you out; I could tell!”

There were some murmurs from other students; Harry could almost physically feel the
speculation in the air. Did Harry really have nothing to do with it? Did Snape like him after
all and let him get away with it? Or did he get one over the potions master? The last one
would be dismissed immediately, of course.

“I’m either very good or very lucky”, said Harry before reaching to open the door.

“No!”, multiple people screamed.

“Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen, Tod und Verzweiflung, Tod und Verzweiflung
flammet um mich her!”

There were groans all around. “Please”, a girl begged. “Stay in there unless absolutely
necessary until that horrendous screaming stops.”

“Not a fan of opera?”, asked Harry.

The pout was enough of an answer and he gave her an apologetic smile. As the door was
already singing anyway, he figured he might as well get into the dorm room - especially
because Travers and co looked rather put-out by the newest development and might take
matters into their own hands.

“Aaaa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aaaah. Aaaa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aaaah. Aaaa-a-a-a-ah-a-a-a-ah-a-a-a-

a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aaaah, meine Tochter nimmermehr”, sang the door.

The suffering faces continued when Harry closed the door behind him and found his dorm
mates in the middle of tidying up the place. Malfoy seemed to want to say something, but the
loudly singing woman made any conversation impossible. As Harry’s things had been locked
up since the prank war had started, he didn’t have a lot to do and instead got comfortable on
his desk chair to watch the others, waiting for the song to end.

When blessed silence finally reigned once more, Malfoy immediately rounded on him. “So,
are you expelled then?”, he sneered.

“Nope.”
“What do you mean, nope?”

“Before you ask, I don’t have detention either. He believed me when I told him I had nothing
to do with it.”

That had everybody staring at him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It was actually Crabbe who broke the silence. “How?”

“Because the spells to hang someone from the ceiling and to have things attack you is a fifth
year spell at least and as good as I am, I can’t do that yet. And most of the others either.”
Harry glared at them. “What’s more important here is this question: what have we learned
today?”

Confused looks were his answer.

“Malfoy?”

“Not to trust Snape to punish you for something you’ve so obviously done.”

“Wrong. Think again.”

“Not to let other people into our dorm room”, sighed Nott.

Malfoy gave him a look. Harry gave him a grin. “Yes, exactly that. After all, if nobody could
enter our room, this wouldn’t have happened. Because a first year cannot do all those pranks
that have been happening over the last few weeks on their own, now, can they?” Harry stared
pointedly at Malfoy who shuffled his feet.

“But everyone can just enter everyone else’s dorm rooms! Except for the girls’, of course”,
Malfoy said.

“Mmh, yes. Or we could use the geatweard”, said Harry.

“The what?”, asked Malfoy.

“Gate ward?”, asked Zabini.

“I think it translates to doorkeeper, actually. It’s also called the Dorm Room’s Palladium. It’s
a safeguard to protect the students by closing off the dorm to everyone but those living in it -
and teachers, of course.”

“I’ve never heard of that. Where on earth did you find it?”

“I had a lot of time in the last few weeks to look up stuff like that and I decided to talk to the
ghosts. They know more magic that has been forgotten than anyone else, I bet.”

Being able to talk to the snake carvings also helped. They had a great memory and could
recall times when this had been an often-used feature. At some point students had visited
each other so much, though, that it had been turned off everywhere but for the girls.
“What’s the catch?” Zabini eyed him.

“Yes, you’d think I would have done it otherwise, right? But it only works if every single
resident of the dorm agrees wholeheartedly.”

“Ah. That explains it then.”

Harry rather thought so. If he had asked them even yesterday, Malfoy, and with him probably
Crabbe and Goyle, would have laughed and carried on with their days. Now, however, when
they had all been targeted and, in turn, humiliated even more than usual…

“I’m in. But only if we all agree to leave each other alone.” Malfoy looked at Harry at that
last part.

“Of course. That’s all I ever wanted.”

It was a matter of seconds to gather everyone around the door. When Harry directed them to
put their hands on the door they looked slightly hesitant, but when no new music sounded,
everybody relaxed. Then, everybody had to concentrate on keeping other people out. As with
everything else, the magic was mostly intent-based. The friar had said one word should be
enough to seal the magic - which was still one too many because it had to be in Old English.
Luckily, his Old English lessons were useful there. He wasn’t far along, but one word...

“Áwearde!”

There was a white light that covered the door and then spread along the walls, floor and
ceiling. When the whole room was covered, there was one last flash and then everything went
back to normal.

“That’s it?”, asked Nott.

Harry shrugged. “I guess so.” Then he grinned. “We’ll find out when someone tries to enter
the dorm.”

“…and what exactly will happen?”, asked Malfoy, slightly paler than before.

“Not sure. I think the stairs to the girls’ dormitories turns into a slide when a boy tries to walk
up, or so I’ve heard. It may have been adjusted, so who knows.”

“Guess we’ll find out”, said Zabini.

Harry smiled at him. “Guess we will.”

“And how do we turn it off again?”, asked Malfoy.

“You probably should have asked that first”, teased Harry. “It can only be turned off like it
has been turned on - by everyone, together.” And Harry couldn’t imagine any reason why
he’d agree to that.
They were brave enough to leave when it was nearing lunch because their growling stomachs
seemed worth braving the glares from everyone in the common room when the door
immediately launched into another song upon being opened. Harry thought it might be from
Aida because that was his aunt’s favourite and it was very familiar.

Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, rushed out of the room, maybe in the hopes that
nobody would stare at their red hair for too long. Harry kept to a slower stroll as soon as he
realised that Travers’ gang wasn’t there.

“Thanks”, said Nott just before they reached the common room door. “That was getting really
annoying.”

“You’re welcome?”

The other boy nodded once, then left the room.

“…that was unexpected.”

“I’ll say.” Zabini was still standing there, hands in his pockets, half-leaning against the wall.
“I’m not sure myself whether to curse you or kiss you because of all…” He gestured towards
the still singing door. “…that.”

Hary grinned. “I had nothing whatsoever to do with being attacked by stuff this morning.”

Zabini rolled his eyes. “So. Where’d you get your food the last few weeks and can I come so
nobody will see” he gestured to the hair “this?”

That was unexpected too. But after thinking it through for a few seconds, Harry shrugged.
“Sure. I’ll take you along to the magical, far-away place that will provide food and shelter.”

And thus, the two boys ended up a few hallways over in the kitchens. Zabini was properly
impressed and Harry was glad he seemed to have changed at least one Slytherin’s mind.

Of course forcing his dorm mates into compliance didn’t help him with the other Slytherins.
Not much, anyway. A lot of them were eyeing him more critically now, probably
acknowledging the hat may have had a point after all, seeing as he had gotten away with the
pranks. Others were arguing that he could never have pulled it off and respected him even
less. The standing of all first-year boys had taken a nose dive, which Harry had anticipated.
After all, nothing would hurt his dorm mates more and drive home just why it was such a bad
idea to mess with him.

The red hair had worn off after another night and Harry had managed to covertly pull the gem
shard out of the door, thus breaking the cycle. As soon as nobody kept an eye on him
anymore, he’d probably get the large rune stone from under the floor tile - who knew what
else he could use that for. But the humiliation… that would stay forever.

Travers and his gang certainly didn’t seem too impressed with him. They just seemed more
angry. But Harry had plans for that eventuality - though it would help to not be disturbed by
childish pranks anymore.

Before any revenge could take place, there were some consequences to the climax of the
Great Slytherin Prank War, however. Harry had half expected this outcome, but still felt
slightly bad when the Gryffindor house points glass sported a lot fewer gems on Sunday
morning and the Weasley twins were sitting at the Gryffindor table with sour expressions.

It seemed Snape had believed him a little too much and taken the bait. The Weasley-red hair
would have normally been a dead give-away, after all, and Harry knew the twins had planned
something similar for Slytherin.

When he left the kitchens after eating his breakfast there, he found Zabini, of all people,
waiting for him.

“It’s such a hassle to find you, Evans-Potter.” He was leaning against a wall again, hands in
his pockets and grinning at him with raised eyebrows.

“That’s kind of the point. Nobody ever tries to find me for anything but making my life
miserable. So far anyway.” He looked the other up and down. “What do you want?”

“What, I wasn’t clear enough yesterday? I want to be friends, stupid.”

“I thought that might have been the adrenaline.”

The other laughed and finally left the wall to come closer to him. “Maybe a bit. Being woken
up by hanging under the ceiling was not the best wake up call I’ve ever gotten.” He paused.
“Not the worst either. But boy, that door was annoying.”

“Mmh. Why would you want to be my friend now?”, Harry asked.

Zabini’s eyes narrowed and he looked him up and down. It felt a bit like being judged and
Harry barely kept from fidgeting.

“Because you’re running circles around them and they don’t even notice. Because, one day,
you will make them deeply regret how they’ve treated you - and I hope you will remember
that I was on your side from the very beginning.”

“Is that so.”

The other boy shrugged. “Besides, you’ve got a wicked sense of humour.”

“Now that I can work with.”

Zabini grinned, then he held out a hand. “Call me Blaise.”

Harry smiled back and took the offered hand. “Harry.”

“So. What are we doing today?”

Harry hadn’t expected to have company today, but he didn’t have a lot planned either. He
hadn’t known how the prank would play out yesterday and thus had already cancelled the
studying session with Susan and Hannah, just in case. He definitely wouldn’t bring Zabini to
it yet; he wouldn’t risk the girls like that. Working with Kreacher on the Room of
Requirement project was also out.

“I was going to walk around on the grounds to take some photos for my cousin.” Dudley
definitely deserved them for braving his mother’s music taste. And he would be expecting a
letter anyway to hear a out the execution of the plan. “Maybe visit Hagrid for a cup of tea.
Study in the library. If you want to come…?” He shrugged.

“I’m in.”

Spending time with Blaise was surprisingly fun. He had a sense of humour that matched his
own and could take a joke as well as dish out. He didn’t make fun of Harry for taking photos
for Dudley or the fact that his cousin was a squib. Hagrid was slightly suspicious at first, but
soon was lulled into a sense of security when Blaise told a hilarious story of him having a
run-in with some fairies living in the forest behind his grandparents’ manor in Italy.

Harry wasn’t fooled, of course. Blaise had seemed to like him from the start, yes, but there
had to be something in it for him to now show it so openly. He was the only Slytherin
seemingly on his side for now, so Harry thought it prudent to stay suspicious for a while. At
the same time, it was nice to have another person to talk to. He had lost as many friends as he
had gained in the last few weeks and it had started to wear on him.

He wasn’t going to spend all his time with his new friend - there were still a lot of secrets he
would keep from him - but some… There was one thing that he wanted some company for
because he was more annoyed by the whole concept than happy about the development
anyway. Not that it hadn’t proven useful.

“…why would you want to interview ghosts…?” Blaise sounded incredulous and, honestly,
Harry couldn’t blame him.

So he just shrugged. “You may have grown up with the notion that ghosts are normal, but I
haven’t. The thought that they’ve seen things that happened thousands of years ago is
fascinating to me. Besides, otherwise I may have never heard about the geatweard.”

“Mmh. Fine. But you owe me a chocolate frog for every one.”

“Are you trying to bribe me now? Why should I care?”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll come. You did show me the kitchens.”

“I already tried talking to Myrtle, but was interrupted.”

“Moaning Myrtle? Why on earth would you want to talk to her of all people?” Blaise looked
disgusted.
Harry privately thought that maybe, if more people had talked to her, the Chamber of Secrets
could have been found sooner. Better for him, though. “Who should we talk to then?”

Blaise thought about that for a moment. “…the other Slytherins would probably skin me, but
I think one of the more interesting ones is Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Then
again, they’d skin me for just being your friend, so…” He shrugged. “And the Bloody Baron
is bloody terrifying. Let’s go for it.”

“We just have to find him first.”

That turned out to be more difficult than they first thought. Harry finally suggested they wait
for dinner, as the ghost seemed to rarely miss mealtimes. The two quickly ate in the kitchens
and then waited close to the Great Hall. They managed to catch the ghost just as he was
floating through one of the walls and Harry waved at the form dressed in a doublet and
holding his head in place with a large ruff.

“Sir Nicholas!”

At Harry’s call, the ghost turned around, ghostly eyebrows rising. “Yes?”

“Er, we wanted to talk to you”, said Harry. “Could we move to an unused classroom, maybe?
I’m not well-liked at the moment and there’s a lot of students coming out of the Great Hall
right now…”

“Oh.” The ghost had a thoughtful look on his face. “Yes, of course. Please lead the way.”

Harry, who had finding unused classrooms down to an art form by now, nodded and led their
strange party into the nearest one, where Sir Nicholas turned around, looking at them
quizzically.

“I’m really interested in ghosts and want to talk to every one in Hogwarts. My friend Blaise
wanted to help. So… we figured we’d start by asking you.”

“I’m the first one you’ve asked?”

“I talked to the Fat Friar already because I ran into him, but Blaise thought you were the most
interesting one, so...”

The ghost puffed up and seemed to shimmer just a little bit brighter. “Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-
Porpington, at your service. I’m the ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Nicholas”, said Harry, getting another smile from
the ghost.

It turned out Nick - as he insisted they call him just a few minutes into their conversation -
was chuffed they wanted to know about his life. He was a well of information about the court
of Sir Henry VII and life in the 15th century. He also regaled them with the story of his
botched execution and Harry and Blaise seemed to look both suitable awed and sympathetic
to gratify the ghost.
He was also nice enough to ask if he should try to get the Bloody Baron to meet them, which
they said yes to, but wisely postponed until they felt they could stomach it.

All in all, even Blaise seemed willing to continue with the ghost interviews in the coming
weeks. He also accompanied Harry to the owlery to send his letter to Dudley.

The whole of Slytherin was woken at 3AM on Monday morning by an ear-splitting

screeching. All eyes of their dorm immediately turned towards Harry who just shrugged.

“It wasn’t me!”, he screamed over the noise.

There was something in his memory, though, telling him he had heard this before. And when
he finally realised where that was, his eyes went wide.

“I think it was us!”, he corrected.

He swung his feet off the bed, shuddering at the cold tiles, to hurry towards the door. The
screaming was still going on, but the closer he got to the door, the more he could discern
actual human voices over the alarm. And when he recognised the voices, he couldn’t help the
grin that split his face.

“What is it?”, asked Blaise, who had come up right behind him.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.”

When Harry opened the door and looked past the stairs towards the common, he could just
about make out three figures, trapped in what appeared to be ropes, all the while having the
alarm wailing in the background. The stairs were slowly filling with more Slytherins in
sleeping clothes and Harry was suddenly very glad he had bought silk pyjamas, as to not
embarrass himself. Then again, with all the pranks and giving himself red hair, it probably
didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Travers, Rosier and Jugson, however, who were the ones cursing up a storm and desperately
trying to escape their predicament, doubtlessly wouldn’t forget this for a while.

When the common room door opened to admit a figure in billowing black robes, the wailing
klaxon stopped. In the dead silence Professor Snape’s voice rang especially loud and
piercing.

“What, exactly, is going on?”

The silence remained, even the three captives stopping their struggles and instead staring at
their head of house with wide eyes.

“Mr Travers. Mr Rosier. Mr Jugson. Explain.”

Harry had a less than stellar view of the whole scene because so many students from the
lower dormitories were crowding the stairs at this point, but even he could see how pale all of
them suddenly looked. It was a struggle to keep the vicious smirk off his face.

When the three still remained silent, Snape approached the bound trio to take a closer look at
the things scattered around them. Harry had only managed to sneak a quick look, but even
what he had seen would be enough to put them in a world of trouble.

Snape lifted an eyebrow while holding one of the items. “A Bogeyman-in-a-Box.” He cast
spells at another, then let it go up in flames instead of picking it up. “A Fanged Frisbee that is
enchanted to have enough force to bite someone’s fingers or even hand off. And…”

Apparently, there was one last item. Even Harry hadn’t seen it in the dim glow of the
common room, maybe because it was earth-coloured and rather innocent-looking. The light
from the fireplace was enough to illuminate it, however, and made Harry suck in a sharp
breath and be very very happy they had put the geatweard up when they did. Even Snape had
grown quiet in a way that reminded Harry of a panther right before it pounced on its prey.

“An off-shoot of devil’s snare.”

There was an intake of breath all around as the rest of Slytherin realised the stakes here.

“Professor Sprout will be very disappointed in you, gentlemen. And what, prey tell, were you
going to do with it all?”

When Snape looked up the staircase, the students stepped to the side until he could see to the
very top where the first-year dormitories were located. By now all six of its occupants had
made their way to the door and were looking at the scene below with various expressions of
horror on their faces. Better late than never, Harry thought. They were finally realising just
what they would have endured in the next few weeks if they hadn’t listened to him.

“Mr Travers! Explain!”

This time Snape’s voice warranted no excuse and the boy, still bound in ropes, began
stuttering out his explanation. “We just touched the doorknob when the stairs suddenly turned
into a slide, that shrieking went off and we were bound in ropes. But we weren’t going to…!”

“Silence, Mr Travers.” The potions master looked down at the pranking item and the
dangerous plant in his hands. “No matter what you weren’t going to do, the outcome of
putting devil’s snare into a student dormitory, any student dormitory, may have ended with a
death. And I can just about imagine whose death you might have wanted to cause.”

His eyes flickered towards Harry and even though he knew exactly what their intentions must
have been, he still couldn’t suppress a shudder. It was finally sinking in, really sinking in, that
he could have died. Without the extra memories, he never would have made it. If memory
him had chosen Slytherin back then, he probably would have died. The naive, kind, clueless
Harry Potter he had been, would not have survived.

In that regard, at least, Ron had been right. And maybe Harry had been too harsh on the boy
for trying to warn him away from his house.
“30 points from Slytherin for endangering other students’ lives.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone on the stairs - which was most of
Slytherin’s population.

“20 points for stealing from Professor Sprout.”

There were suddenly a lot of glares aimed at the three boys.

“And 10 points for dragging me out of bed at this Merlin-be-damned hour of the night. Your
detentions will be served in turns with me and Professor Sprout until Christmas. And you will
be returning this” he lifted the plant “to her under my supervision tomorrow and apologise in
person.”

Travers opened his mouth and barely got out a “But…!” before Snape cut him off.

“Realise this: I am being lenient. I will not tell her what you intended to do with her plant. I
will not involve Dumbledore in this matter. You will not be expelled, but you will serve your
detentions without protest. And if I find any proof that you had anything to do with what
transpired on Saturday, your detention time will be doubled. Do not. Test. Me.”

Travers shut his mouth and Harry would bet he had to work hard to swallow that. He himself
had to suppress his giddiness. It was a mix of adrenaline and schadenfreude, but it was
certainly intoxicating.

“Back to your beds!”, Snape barked.

The students collectively flinched and within seconds the stairs were cleared.

“Evans-Potter and company - come down here”, came Snape’s voice just when Harry was
turning around as well.

They exchanged some apprehensive looks, but stepped down the stairs either way. Nobody
wanted to get on Snape’s bad side when he was in this mood.

When they had reached the bottom, he just gestured to the three older Slytherins, still
shackled in place. “Explain this to me - Mr Evans-Potter, I am guessing you had something to
do with this?”

Harry almost heaved a sigh of relief because while Snape’s voice was still sharp and angry,
the anger didn’t seem to be directed at him.

“Essentially yes, professor. You see, after Saturday, we all agreed that we wanted to prevent
further incidents like this. So, we used the Dormitory’s Palladium to protect our dorm and
keep out any students but us or Hogwarts professors.”

Snape’s mood had suddenly turned inquisitive, as the harsh line to his mouth had disappeared
and his eyebrows had gone up. Harry decided his best bet was to just keep talking.
“The Fat Friar told me about it when I questioned him about his time at Hogwarts when the
founders were still living here. And that sounded helpful, so I looked up more information
and how to do the ritual for it. It’s a system from the founder’s times that lets you protect the
dorm room and it sounded like exactly what I was looking for. All room mates have to agree
and perform the ritual together, but it’s just putting your hands on the door and saying one
word. We weren’t exactly sure what would happen if anybody tried to get in anyways, but it
seems…”

He shrugged and motioned towards the three older boys who had started to glare at him.

“It seems to work like the girl dormitories’ fail-safe. If a boy tries to get in, the staircase turns
into a slide and sets off an alarm. If this happens at night, the perpetrator is kept in place until
a professor arrives.”

Snape turned towards Travers, Rosier and Jugson, the frown on his face harsher yet again.
Still, he waved his hands and the three were finally set free. Rosier and Jugson rubbed their
arms where the ropes had been, while Travers was throwing one murderous look after the
other at Harry and lesser ones even at the rest of his dorm mates that made them flinch back.

“Back to bed with you. And be at my office at 6:30 sharp tomorrow morning so we can bring
the devil’s snare back to Professor Sprout. She will want to care properly for it as soon as
possible.”

There were three nods and muttered “Yes, Professor”s and they trotted off towards their own
beds. Jugson hesitated just at the foot of the stairs, though, gingerly stepping onto the first
step, as if expecting it to turn back into a slide.

“Today, if you please.”

They vanished within seconds.

“You as well.”

If it had been anyone but Snape, Harry might have gotten points for his ingenuity. Seeing as it
was Snape, he was glad to have gotten away with things that had been partly his fault twice.
The potions master himself waited just long enough until they had reached the small landing
to their dorm, nodded once and then swept off, probably to enjoy what was left of his night.

As soon as the door closed, the others rounded on him.

“Did you know what would happen?”, asked Malfoy, running his hands through his hair.

“Did you see their faces? Merlin, it was glorious!”, cried Zabini.

Nott gave him another one of the appraising looks that had gotten more frequent since the
snake incident, but said nothing.

“They’re going to kill us! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”, cried Malfoy.

“Malfoy. Calm down”, said Harry.

“Calm down? Calm down?! Do you not know who…”

“Malfoy!”

The blond shut his mouth.

“I don’t think it makes much of a difference because they were already trying to kill me,
pretty much. At least seriously hurt me. In case you hadn’t noticed the venomous snakes.”
His voice was dripping in sarcasm. “As for wanting to kill the rest of you - who can be sure
that I would have been the one to touch that devil’s snare? I imagine they wanted to put it
under my bed or something, but if just one of you had walked too close to it…”

He left the rest up to their imagination and watched as five faces paled to a colour that
rivalled that of Sir Nicholas.

“Exactly. The way I see it, the geatweard probably saved our lives. Now. Off to bed. I’d like
to get some more sleep tonight and there’s not much night left.”

There was affirmative mumbling from everyone, even Crabbe and Goyle, and they were soon
hidden away in their own beds. Harry spelled the curtains shut, made sure to put up a
silencing charm - and then quietly broke down.

:Harry! What’s wrong?:

Mehen, who had stayed in the warm bed, was immediately wound around his arm, face right
next to his. Kreacher had popped him back into the safety of his bed an hour after curfew and
the snake had not been happy. At all. It had taken another hour and the promise of even more
lizards to quiet down the outraged familiar. It didn’t help that Harry couldn’t exactly argue
against the “if I’m not there, I can’t protect you, silly - and what else am I supposed to do as
your familiar?”. Funny enough, the fact that he had just tried to protect the snake went
completely over Mehen’s head.

Harry started to stroke his familiar’s scales, the soothing motion helping to even his breathing
and calm his beating heart just a tiny bit.

:They tried to kill me again and this time… this time it somehow hit me. Even though they
didn’t even get as close as before. But it was just so… devious. If I had been anyone but
me… If I had been just a normal first-year…: He shuddered and Mehen tightened his hold.

:But you’re not.:

Harry shuddered again and felt a forked tongue flick against his cheek.

:But you’re not.:

:No, I’m not.:

He took a deep breath, then another. No, he wasn’t a normal student. And that thought finally
calmed him down enough to unclench his muscles and let himself fall back onto his pillow.
Of course he had known there had been another prank planned. The stone snakes had warned
him well in advance. Not that he’d had any intention of stopping it in its tracks or messing
with it like on Saturday, much preferring to let it play out like this. He already had a carving-
snake positioned in the 7th year boys’ dorm, just to watch the fallout and gauge the reaction
to this newest development.

If he was lucky, they would finally get the hint and leave him alone. Him getting away with
his own prank adjustments even though Snape had been involved should have been enough
of a deterrent - and had been for his own year mates. Him sicking Snape on them instead
should be the final nail in the coffin. If he was lucky.

But he was Harry Potter and he was never lucky.

The Weasley twins looked much less gloomy on Monday morning after getting their owl
post. Harry still wasn’t sure whether sending them an anonymous apology letter for getting
them into trouble had been a great idea - especially the part where he had told them that a
cerberus was hidden on the third floor as compensation. Still, he figured that should keep
them from the forbidden forest for a while. Having them run into Quirrelmort hunting
unicorns was not on his list of things he wanted to happen to people.

It may have also cheered them up that Harry had included last night’s events in the letter and
the two were busy throwing glances at the depleted Slytherin hour glass and the three cowed
seventh-years, sitting at the Slytherin table. Travers, Rosier and Jugson had arrived to
breakfast even later than usual, looking very morose and gaining disappointed looks from
Professor Sprout at the staff table. They had their usual seats, but for the first time, there was
a noticeable gap between them and the nearest students.

Harry himself lacked sleep because, while he had calmed down a bit after last night’s
incident, he had been too anxious to sleep and had ended up finally writing that letter to to
the Weasley twins instead. Mehen had disapproved, of course, but hadn’t been able to do
more than urge him to sleep.

Now he was wound around his left arm again, albeit more firmly than usual. Harry figured he
would have to look for some lizards soon if he wanted the sporadic tightening on his arm to
stop.

Blaise, true to his word, stuck to his side the whole day. Harry insisted on still partnering with
Hannah in Charms and Susan in Astronomy, but, for the first time ever, he had a partner in
Magical Theory and DADA. The other students gave them some weird looks, but rearranged
themselves accordingly. Milicent looked very relieved to work with Nott instead of Goyle,
who had moved to a group of three including Malfoy and Crabbe. Quirrel also seemed
confused by the change and stuttered more than usual while frowning at the table that Harry
and Blaise had claimed for themselves. Harry made sure to keep his occlumency shields tight
and his surface thoughts light.

They still didn’t dare join the Slytherin table or any other for their meals and stuck to the
kitchen, but Harry could tell they were still the talk of the school. Their dorm mates eyed
Harry critically instead of with disgust, so that was an improvement. The other Slytherins
were throwing confused, calculating or menacing looks at Blaise, the Gryffindors glared
mostly at Harry, probably for becoming even more of a Slytherin and making Slytherin
friends. Hey, he never said any of their excuses made sense.

Harry did ask Blaise to leave the evening to him so he could meet Kreacher in the Room of
Requirement. Even without him, the elf had made some progress in sorting through things.
What Harry was here for today was the vanishing cabinet, though. He had finished
comparing it to the one from Borgin and Burke and read through most of the related material
he had found in the library. Figuring he would start slow, Harry pressed the activation
sequence he had found in a book on the runes, then put in an apple and closed the door.

There was no sound or anything to indicate the apple had vanished, but when he opened the
door, it was gone. Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his robe, then opened the other cabinet.

The apple was sitting right in the middle where he had put it in the other cabinet - and it was
sliced clean in half. Good thing he hadn’t been impulsive and tried it on himself; alone the
thought sent a shiver down his back. As much as he wanted to talk to Walburga to run his
plans past her, it wasn’t worth this. But seeing as he really wanted to talk to her, he’d keep
experimenting.

“Master Harry is not going in the thing… is he?”, asked Kreacher.

“Not yet, don’t worry.”

The elf heaved a sigh of relief that made Harry wonder whether his Gryffindor tendencies
may be shining through a bit too much lately.

Harry spent most of the time until Astronomy trying out more of the rune sequences he had
found, but by the end didn’t manage to make much progress. It didn’t help that the books
weren’t exactly instruction manuals and Harry thought if he was very unlucky, he might have
to wait until Christmas and another trip to Knockturn alley to find more helpful books - and
by that time he could just sneak off to see his aunt anyway.

The good thing was that Harry had remembered something very important. By talking to Sir
Nicholas, he had finally remembered how the vanishing cabinet had been broken the first
time - and it hadn’t been the twins. He had been caught by Filch in second year and the
Gryffindor ghost had managed to get Peeves to drop the cabinet right over Filch’s office to
distract the caretaker. So, theoretically, the cabinet should be working right now.

Except it wasn’t. It was infuriating.

“Kreacher could still try to pop the Young Master to Grimmauld?”, the elf offered when he
saw how crestfallen Harry looked after nothing had worked.

“Thanks, Kreacher. But I’m still not sure how much Dumbledore notices in this school.
Apparition and portkeys shouldn’t work, normally, and although wizards often seem to
overlook house elf magic, the fact that Helga Hufflepuff offered asylum to hundreds of elves
in her time doesn’t seem very promising where the Hogwarts wards are concerned…”
Kreacher’s ears drooped a bit lower than usual, but he nodded. “Kreacher could give her a
message from you and ask her to give one back? Or take a letter!”

He had thought about that as well, but… As much as he trusted Kreacher, he wasn’t sure
whether the elf could relay his plans accurately. And a letter would possibly be incriminating
if it ended up in the wrong hands. Not that it should if he told the elf to destroy it
immediately, but Harry found himself unwilling to risk it.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think for now I’ll have to do this alone.”

At least he had Blaise. The boy took all that went with suddenly being his friend with a
clenched jaw and squared shoulders, which grudgingly impressed Harry. Throughout the
whole week he bore the stares stoically and stuck by his side even when Harry had to run
from Gryffindors yet again, or sneak through the common room under the noses of Travers.

His friend complained only once.

“How did you do this for a whole month?”

Harry shrugged. “Needs must. You get used to it. Not that you have to. You could stop being
friends with me.”

Blaise tilted his head and mustered him. “Naw. I’m good where I am.”

And that was that.

Travers seemed to be out for his blood now, though, staying in the common room more often
than not. But Harry wasn’t restricted by the curfew anymore. Spending hours in his dorm
wasn’t the potentially life-threatening activity it had once been, so using a large group of
students to sneak both Blaise and him through the wall under a notice-me-not was
surprisingly easy. Interestingly, neither Rosier nor Jugson ever accompanied Travers. Harry
counted that as his win.

He was, however, not surprised when a stone snake came to him on Thursday morning to
give its report. And while Harry wasn’t surprised, Travers’ newest plan still set his blood
boiling.

The snakes had reported back that everyone had been quite shaken after Sunday night’s
events. Rosier and Jugson seemed to want to stay out of it all now, while Travers was baying
for blood even more. Harry was just lucky that he had tried once more to convince his friends
to help with his latest idea, or the snake may have never caught that conversation.

Harry ended up in the Room of Requirement, shooting spells at some target it had provided,
while talking Kreacher’s ear off and having Mehen scolding him from the side.

“Kreacher is not liking this plan, Young Master. No, not at all.” He shook his head, big ears
flapping about and Mehen hissed his agreement from the warm pillow Harry had put him on.
 “They tried to seriously hurt me. Multiple times. And they attacked Neville. And Travers is
planning to attack Susan and Hannah.” Harry suddenly found his hands clenched into fists at
his side. “I won’t forgive that easily. Never that.”

“You could tell them you be Heir Black? The Black Family name be well-known in wizard
society, oh yes.”

“Wouldn’t matter much, over all. Travers is too far gone. This information has to be
accompanied by a lesson. I hoped they’d stop after Saturday’s prank or at least after they got
caught, but…”

“They be stupid.”

“Yes, very.”

Kreacher sighed. “Then Kreacher be helping Young Master defend himself.”

“Thanks, Kreacher. You’re the best.”

And while a house elf blushed, Harry continued attacking his targets. Practising.

Chapter End Notes

I was a bit hesitant to post this chapter as is because the pranks are kind of over the top.
Then again, this has been going on long enough that only something so over the top
would make them stop. So I left it in. Besides, Harry deserves alllll the revenge.
-
What Harry was singing: 1. Queen - Stone Cold Crazy, 2. Queen - Death On Two Legs
(and Harry can only pray that Snape doesn’t know that song or the rest of the lyrics…)

The operas pieces that were playing during this (and translation of the lines), in case
anyone wants to add to the atmosphere:
1. La Traviata - Libiamo ne' lieti calici
-„Let's drink, let's drink from the joyous chalices that beauty blossoms.“
-„Let's drink, my love: the love among chalices will have warmer kisses."
-„With you, with you I'll be able to share my cheerful times.“
2. Turandot – Nessun dorma
-„Nobody shall sleep! Nobody shall sleep! Even you, o Princess.“
-„At dawn, I shall win! I shall win! I shall win!“
3. Don Giovanni – Fermati scellerato
-„Stop, you wicked man! Heavens wanted me to hear your treacherous words.“
-„Ah, flee the traitor! Don't let him speak no more!“
4. Die Zauberflöte - Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen/Arie der Königin der
Nacht
-„The vengeance of hell boils in my heart, death and despair flame about me!“
-„A-a-a-a-a-a-a-aaah – my daughter nevermore.“
 ...is furious.
Chapter Summary

Stage Two.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Susan and Hannah were very much not amused.

“So?”, asked Susan. “We knew it was going to be dangerous to be friends with you, even in
secret. That’s nothing new.”

They were hiding away in the farthest corner of the library again, Herbology essays strewn
across the table. In a hilarious twist of fate, they were learning about devil’s snare this week.

“You remember what happened to Neville? He wants to do that to you. And it’s probably
going to be worse, honestly, because I humiliated him in front of everyone, including Snape.”

“Yeah, you still have to tell us about that one”, said Hannah, finally putting down her quill.

While both had switched to muggle supplies, they still had to use quills and parchment to
hand in assignments and even Susan, who had grown up with it, was groaning about it by
now.

“I will, just… why won’t you do it?”

He had tried everything he could. Every single thing he could think of to convince them, but
the two were being stubborn to a fault. It was often an endearing Hufflepuff trait, like
refusing to bow to peer pressure and staying his friends. But if they could only be a teeny tiny
bit sneaky, Harry thought. Just a little bit. Just enough to go along with his suggestions to
stage a fight between them in the Great Hall in front of as many witnesses as possible.

“It wouldn’t be forever. We would “make up” as soon as I’ve got everything sorted. Just
another week or two. It would protect you!”

Hannah pinched her lips together so much that they were almost non-existent while Susan
was shaking her head vehemently.

“No chance.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. As he had done that continuously for the last
half hour and the ponytail had long since disappeared, it added little to the hundreds of
strands sticking up in all directions.

“Can you at least promise to be careful? Always walk around in a huge group, with older
students, if at all possible. Please.”

“Of course, we can do that.”

“Sure”, said Hannah. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. We like to stick together anyway.”

Harry sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. These two were going to be the death of him
if Travers didn’t manage to get to him first.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, about what happened with Travers and Snape…Care to share?”

The Herbology essays were mostly forgotten at that point, but Harry figured he’d have
enough time to finish it later either way. Especially as Hannah immediately ran to get more
information on devil’s snare as soon as Harry mentioned Travers had tried to sneak it into the
dorm.

“He probably wanted to distract you with the frisbee and the bogeyman so you wouldn’t
suspect something more sinister hiding under your bed”, deduced Susan.

Maybe there was a snake hiding in her somewhere after all. Not that it helped her self-
preservation any.

“Sounds likely.”

He expected her to continue, so was kind of confused when nothing else came and she was
just biting her lip.

“What is it?”

“…you have to do something. It’s getting out of hand. Why don’t you ask a professor?”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, fat chance. Snape knows what’s going on. And while he took points…”
Harry was still reeling from that; he’d thought it would be a detention or two for waking him
up at such an ungodly hour and that was it. But maybe involving Professor Sprout had tipped
his hand. “…he let them get off lightly for the fact they were trying to put a devil’s snare into
a student dorm.”

“I didn’t mean Snape specifically! Professor Sprout is very worried about you. I heard her
discussing the situation with Professor Flitwick. They even went to Dumbledore to report it,
but he just said he couldn’t do anything. They were really angry. If you went to them with the
full information…”

“…Dumbledore would still stop them. Or say because it’s an in-house matter, that Snape
should deal with it.”
Or he’d use the situation to try again to get him re-sorted. Harry wanted to avoid that because
on some days that option looked more and more tempting. Sometimes he wondered if that
was the reason why Dumbledore and Snape even let it get this far.

He just wasn’t expecting any teachers to give a damn about this, if he was being honest.
Harry wasn’t sure whether that was bias left over from the memories he’d gotten - but even
so, who could blame him? Seeing nothing being done about a basilisk roaming the castle,
professors failing to stop the bullying when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin,
when his name had come out of the goblet of fire, Umbridge being a name he didn’t even
want to think about in fear of wanting to send an assassin to kill her before she could start
doing damage again - now that was an idea!… And even in small things like the case of Luna
Lovegood who was mercilessly bullied in the house of the smart, or Neville, who was bullied
by the Slytherins and mostly ignored in Gryffindor - nothing was ever done.

“The professors won’t do anything. Or it wouldn’t be enough. You’ve seen how much was
done when Neville was attacked! Me not even eating in the Great Hall warranted only a
quick question from Professor Sprout and the headmaster until they stopped looking into it. If
you want anything getting done in this school, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

She still looked unconvinced, but it was Harry’s turn to be stubborn.

“Let’s get back to Herbology. I don’t want to put it off too long.”

How two weeks managed to be both both nerve-wracking and dreadfully dull, Harry had no
idea. Every day he breathed a sigh of relief to see Susan and Hannah sitting at the Hufflepuff
table uninjured and even though he tried to distance himself from them during class, they
steadfastly refused to let him. After a week he gave up and came to terms with the fact that he
was stuck with the two. He couldn’t find it in himself to be too annoyed at it either.

Luckily, the rest of the badgers took their task of protecting two of their own very seriously.
Harry had let the news slip to some other Hufflepuff acquaintances and while Ernie and
Justin may not be brave enough to be seen with him, they trusted him enough to believe him.
From then on, he never saw Susan or Hannah alone. Often, the whole cluster of first-years
moved as one, or one of the Hufflepuff prefects accompanied them. It made their secret
library meetings all the more difficult, but the two had a prefect walk them to and from the
library and Harry’s notice-me-not did the rest of the work. By now, that was the spell he was
getting the most familiar with.

Blaise stuck around, as usual, and followed him and Hagrid when they did their by now
regular rounds of the grounds or sat in his hut for tea. The two also interviewed the Grey
Lady, who wasn’t very forthcoming and Harry had every intention of getting to know her
better over the years. Myrtle was curious enough to brave the hallway and an unused
classroom to talk to them, although Blaise called off that day, citing he didn’t want to be
covered in toilet water.

He wouldn’t have had to worry anyway, as talking about her death had Myrtle in the most
agreeable mood since before she died. Harry now also had a great excuse for piecing together
where the Chamber of Secrets was, should he ever need it.

Myrtle also had quite a bit of gossip about the student population. She seemed mostly
interested in Hogwarts’ relationship drama - who had a crush on whom, who had spent the
day crying inside a cubicle, who was sneaking into the cupboards around the school… At
some point in time, it may come in handy.

She also had surprisingly accurate information about his parents’ school time that made
Harry’s ears turn red and wish he’d never asked about the Potter-Evans couple. Alone the
mention had made Myrtle squeal in delight and talk his ear off about the drama his parents
getting together had seemingly caused, with half the Gryffindors having entered a betting
pool in second year on whether they’d marry or kill each other by the end of seventh year.
Apparently, of all people, Professor McGonagall had won that one.

Another distraction arrived in the form of a letter from home. Dudley had been gushing about
the opera prank for over a week now, maybe because Harry insisted on thanking him again
and again for the part he had played in braving his mother’s music taste. So when a thicker
letter than usual arrived, Harry was surprised to find that this time it was Petunia who was
talking his ear off.

She had sent sweets as compensation, which he immediately shared with Susan and Hannah
at their library session, as well as Blaise during one of their exploration days in the castle.
Watching the other boy reluctantly bite into Cadbury bars and Jelly Babies, only to devour
the whole package was highly entertaining.

The letter, however, had his hands clenching so much they crinkled the paper and his blood
pressure rise enough to make Mehen ask what was going on. True to her word, Petunia had
tried to get around the available magical transportation - namely, the Knight Bus - by
unblocking their fire place and trying to register it with the floo network office. Someone
there was either sleeping on the job, or took great pleasure in harassing squibs because her
request had been repeatedly denied. She had apparently wanted to surprise him so they could
take the floo home from platform 9 3/4 at Christmas, but was by now exasperated enough to
want to rant to him about it.

Harry decided asking Susan about it during a library meeting was the best route and was
slightly scared when the girl got a truly vicious gleam in her eyes in return.

“Er… Susan? You’re doing your scary face”, said Hannah, proving that he wasn’t the only
one who had noticed, and that this seemed to be a recurring thing. “You look like your aunt
when you do that.”

“I better do because I’m sure going to write her about this.”

Harry already pitied whoever had tried to snub his aunt.

Petunia had also sent a list of lawyers he went through with Susan, Hannah and Blaise’s help.
Apparently, she had gotten a Gringotts letter about this some time ago, but had wanted to take
her time understanding the matter and looking through the available options herself. As she
put it, “taking care of this stuff is not your responsibility. I’ll run it past you in the later
stages, but dealing with the paperwork is a privilege of adulthood”. Harry sure wasn’t going
to stop her, especially as she seemed to be on a roll and had enough experience from dealing
with divorce lawyers to know what to look for.

Blaise’s eyes had almost popped out when Harry had pulled out the list and asked which of
the lawyers was the most cut-throat one and if his friend had any other recommendations.
Blaise then made the mistake of asking what he needed a lawyer for. Among the main
reasons was definitely suing whoever had used his name to promote their products, forcing
everyone in the newspaper to use his correct one - there had already been a small article in
the Daily Prophet about his sorting that had not only used just the name “Potter”, but had also
not asked his or his aunt’s permission - and possibly suing Dumbledore for the mail ward
should he not convince the man to remove it on his own.

After gaping at him for a minute or so, the other boy had finally started laughing so much he
had trouble staying on his chair and, still giggling in between, declared at least it would never
be boring with him and did he want to sue the Minister of Magic too at some point?

Harry refrained from mentioning the Sirius Black fiasco yet and instead gave his friend a grin
that silenced the laughter, only to bring it back in full force. At least Blaise was having fun,
he thought.

Another development was harder to swallow. He, of course, still saw Neville in their shared
classes, though they had not partnered in Potions for a while and disaster was only prevented
because the boy had joined Hermione and Ron’s group.

A small part of him was glad he could focus on his own cauldron, as it was difficult enough
to brew with Snape glaring at him and the Gryffindors trying to throw things into it. The
Slytherins, at least, had stopped pelting him with stuff after the weekend pranking disaster. It
was also easier to sneak the vials with his potion into his satchel after class. The much bigger
part of him still got that chilly feeling in his gut whenever he saw the other boy’s mop of
dirty blond hair from the corner of his eyes, a mix of dread and guilt and betrayal settling in
his chest.

Neville had sometimes thrown him guilty glances so far, but had been mostly trying to not
even look in his direction. Harry couldn’t help himself and looked at his former friend to
check on him every breakfast while he was waiting for his post, though, and had noticed that
the glances had been getting more frequent and the guilt reflected in them more and more
pronounced. Hermione had noticed as well and was throwing looks his way too. Harry found
he didn’t want to deal with either of them, so stayed far away from that disaster waiting to
happen.

He woke on Halloween morning with very mixed feelings. For one, it was his parents’ death
day and while he hadn’t known them and had never truly mourned on this day, somehow it
felt different this year. Maybe it was because he was walking the same halls as them, having
the same teachers, learning the same magic…
Another reason was that it was also Voldemort’s death day, or so most of the world believed -
including some students whose parents had instilled their values in them. Rosier and Jugson
were staying far away from him now, but Travers was still a wild card. Harry didn’t want to
admit it to even Mehen, but he felt like he was stuck in a tiny ramshackle boat just before a
storm was about to hit.

A part of him prayed that Travers would just leave him alone from now on. Not even being
friendly but letting him be and have friends without them fearing for their safety. Another
part of him hoped he’d come after him today of all days and that part almost scared him more
than anything else.

Most of the castle, however, was in a celebratory mood with carved pumpkins being floated
along the corridor by Professor Flitwick and everyone whispering about all the candy they
would get tonight. Even the kitchen smelled of pumpkin pasty and it almost made his
stomach turn. When he pushed his plate away during lunch, Blaise frowned.

“Are you okay? If you… if you want to talk about it, let me know.”

The true concern in his friend’s voice warmed him a bit, but Harry shook his head anyway.
This was not something he wanted Blaise involved in. This was not something he wanted
anyone involved in.

He found little joy even in Charms, where they had to practise wingardium leviosa on their
feathers. Harry, of course, still managed to do it quite easily and he helped Blaise and Hannah
out as well, but when the two started having their feathers chase themselves around the
classroom, he only managed a tired smile over the worry churning in his stomach. At least
they were getting along in their limited interactions, so that was something, he figured.

The only thing that cheered him up slightly was Hermione walking past him with Ron and
Neville in the afternoon, clearly as bossy as ever and not crying in a bathroom. That was one
thing he had evidently managed to improve, if nothing else.

As it was getting closer to the feast, Harry was getting more and more fidgety. Blaise was
picking up on it too and throwing him concerned glances when they were sitting in the
library.

“Harry, what’s going on? You’re so jumpy today.”

“Don’t worry about it, Blaise. It’ll work out.”

“…somehow that’s not very reassuring…”

Harry sighed and looked up. “You’ll have to leave me alone for the evening.”

“What. Why?”

“Because I have some things planned and having you around would complicate matters.”

The other boy looked at him, his head tilted to the side. Harry asked him for space a lot,
mostly when he wanted to go to the Room of Requirement or study more questionable things,
so it shouldn’t be anything unusual. Blaise looked hesitant anyway.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am”, Harry lied.

“Very well then. I’ll see whether I can slither my way amongst the Slytherins for the feast. Or
just go to the kitchen immediately and just eat there. Less chance to be cornered.” He pursed
his lips. “Yes, definitely the kitchens.”

“Then go there and please stay there for most of the feast.”

“You’re starting to scare me.”

“Just trust me on this”, said Harry.

Blaise mustered him some more. “I’d be a right idiot to trust you, but I’ll do as you say
anyway - as long as you promise to explain it to me properly tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

They worked on some essays until just before dinner, even though Harry often found himself
reading the same paragraph three times because his thoughts had drifted off yet again.
(Focus!) When his watch showed it was time, they packed up their things and headed down
the stairs together. Blaise, after throwing him a last look full of concern, made his way farther
down the stairs towards the kitchens, while Harry continued standing in front of the Great
Hall as if debating whether to go in.

He could see some of the decoration from here. There were the usual hundreds of candles,
floating in the air, though some had been replaced by hollow pumpkins. More Halloween
decoration was spread over every available surface and swarms of bats were swooping down
onto giggling students before continuing their obstacle course through the candles. Harry
could see Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table too, talking animatedly with an
exasperated-looking Ron, which brought a smile to his face. He was almost tempted to go in
after all, making a great entrance, but…

“What are you smiling at then, Potter?”

And there he was. How could he have expected anything different. He also owed Mehen
another three lizards or birds for leaving his familiar behind again and getting himself into
trouble on purpose.

“Travers.”

“Thinking about joining the feast, are you? Celebrating not only Halloween but the defeat of
the Dark Lord, maybe? For me it is the day any chance of my father getting out of prison
died. But you wouldn’t know what that’s like, would you? With your parents being dead and
all…”
“Oh please. Get some better insults.” Harry gripped his wand, which he was hiding under the
long sleeves again, tighter.

The other boy sneered at him.

“I’m just wondering… aren’t you getting bored of it? This back and forth, picking on a first-
year… Aren’t you tired?” Harry knew he was. Tired of it all.

“Think you’re better than me, Potter?”

“Evans-Potter. And no, not particularly.” Yes. “Just different. But that doesn’t have to mean
bad.”

Whatever about that had set him off, Travers had soon drawn his wand. Harry wasn’t going
to stick around for that. He turned on the spot and ran back up the stairs, dodging a spell that
had immediately left Travers’ wand. Even while running up the stairs, he changed directions
every so often and watched two more spells splash harmlessly against the stone.

His plans usually consisted of waiting for the other party to make a move and then leading
them into a trap. It had worked for Marge and Ripper. It had worked with the pranks and the
staircase. His opponents could win - if they did nothing. They just so rarely noticed that
before it was too late.

And so, Travers ended up chasing him up the stairs, down the corridor and right into the
girls’ bathroom.

He hadn’t been sure whether things would play out exactly the same, so he had made some
provisions just in case. Which is why the toilet stall on the very left was spelled to high-
heavens by himself, but mostly Kreacher, to protect him from a barrage of spells by Travers.
This was where Harry was hiding, having outlasted his opponent’s first tries to hit him by just
dodging and waiting to find out whether he would have to fight back.

It was probably the first time in history someone was encountering a wild troll and heaved a
sigh of relief.

As soon as Harry heard Travers scream, he exited his cubicle and made a decent effort to
look surprised by the troll making its way into the bathroom. It was only half acted anyway.
No memory could do justice to the monster that had shambled into the bathroom, spell fire
covering the sound of its approaching footsteps that now echoed in the tiled space. Twelve
feet tall, granite-grey skin, feet as thick as tree-trunks and a wooden club that was as big as
Harry and Travers’ bodies together - no wonder the other boy was looking on in horror as the
troll squeezed itself through the tiny door into the room.

The smell was indescribable, clogging up his nostrils and screaming DANGER at his brain in
all caps. Its ears were long, almost as long as its entire head, and it wiggled them slowly as it
crouched through the door.
Harry thought it might have been drawn by the spells being fired off. It could also be the
smell, though, as the whole bathroom smelled surprisingly similar to the troll.

“T-t-t-t-…”, stuttered Travers.

His voice was trembling as much as the rest of his body. He had gone pale white, eyes open
wide and staring at the nightmare that was now standing in the bathroom, blinking against the
light.

“Yes, that’s a troll.”

Harry made sure to keep his voice low and level, but the troll moved its head to the side
anyway, ears flicking some more, probably trying to discern where the sound had come from.

Travers’ breathing had picked up, growing faster and more desperate as if he was preparing
to make a run for it. The problem with that plan was that the only exit was currently blocked
by a twelve foot tall mountain troll that didn’t seem inclined to move any time soon - at least
not judging by the way it was peering into one of the mirrors and baring its fangs at its
reflection.

And then Travers made a mistake.

Harry heard him take one deep breath - and then start screaming and desperately trying to fire
spells at the thing. He thought he recognised a few cutting curses, that didn’t even penetrate
its skin, a mutatio skullus and a bombarda that missed the troll my multiple feet, but blew up
one of the sinks. Splinters of ceramic exploded into the room and Harry dove back behind his
cubicle door to escape the majority of projectiles.

“Stop that!”, Harry yelled.

The troll wasn’t as lucky, but seeing as its skin was as thick as multiple layers of leather, it
must have felt like being hit by a multitude of toothpicks - annoying, but nothing in the face
of all that skin and muscle. Not to mention it suddenly had two more heads than it was used
to because of course that was the only spell that hit.

It roared in outrage and turned around, facing Travers.

Harry peeked out behind the stall door. “Travers, stop! You’re only making it more angry!”

But Travers was too far gone in his panic and continued making noise and annoying the troll.
Bloody stupid - and exactly as Harry had expected. While he had faced multiple dangerous
situations in his life and could remember a fair share more, he knew when it came to fight or
flight he would choose the logical option. What he also knew was that a lot of people, when
suddenly in a panic, tended to either do the wrong thing or freeze completely.

The best case scenario was Travers freezing, but he could work with this.

While the upper year was unwittingly distracting the creature, Harry crept around it slowly
until he had reached the other side of the bathroom. Usually, this would have been a blind
spot for the troll - but Travers had given it two more heads with two sets of additional eyes.
That made the troll roar and smash Travers with one of its long arms while it turned around
towards Harry.

Not having expected the reach, Travers was hit squarely in the chest and smashed into a
cubicle with a sickening crunch. Harry couldn’t keep in a wince, but suddenly had other
problems. The troll roared at him with three mouths and tried to reach for him. Luckily, his
arm was still stuck in the debris of a cubicle and Harry had a choice to make.

He could run. The door was at his back now and it would be easy to slip out and scream for
help. The teachers shouldn’t be too far away by now; last time they had shown up rather
quickly.

With how the troll’s eyes were still flickering towards Travers, who was struggling out of a
mountain of debris at the moment, Harry had a feeling the other boy might not make it out of
the situation alive.

What made his stomach drop more than facing a mountain troll was the fact that he actually
thought about running. This would be one way to be rid of the bully; he sure wouldn’t be a
problem ever again. Nobody could blame a first-year for running away. And his own mind
was whispering he deserves it.

“Potter!”

Travers had finally made it out of the rubble. The blood stood out stark against his pale-white
skin, a hundred tiny cuts from wooden splinters and a line of blood running from his hairline
into his eyes. He was standing slumped, holding one arm to his side and his face was a
grimace of pain. His voice, for the first time, had sounded weak and scared, no trace of a
sneer to be found.

“Help me!” When he tried to take a step, he stumbled and it looked like he barely managed to
stay upright. "Please..."

That was all that Harry heard before he had to throw himself to the side to avoid the giant
club swung at him. The troll had finally remembered that it had two arms.

“Move it, Travers!”

Harry dodged another swing and conjured a shield to block the third time the troll swung at
him.

The older Slytherin hobbled a few steps, then crumpled to the floor with a cry of pain. That,
sadly, reminded the troll of the second person in the bathroom. It turned around with a roar,
raising the club high enough for it to scrape along the ceiling as it swung down and all the
hairs on Harry’s arms stood up at the scratching sound.

Travers gave another cry, this time pure panic.

“PROTEGO!”
A shield sprung up above Travers’ head, the club shattering it on impact, but protecting
Travers from at least that hit. Harry wasn’t sure he’d manage a third one.

“Hey, ugly! Over here!”

All three heads turned towards him and Harry swallowed. He really should have thought this
through some more. What was he even doing this for? He doesn’t deserve it.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Kreacher peeking around the reinforced stall, which was
the only one still standing. His eyes were even bigger than usual and Harry would swear he
was chewing his nails. Knowing the elf was only a few feet away, ready to either interfere or
pop him out of the bathroom, was reassurance enough.

“Close your eyes!”, he yelled, though he didn’t check whether Travers followed the order.
“Lumos!”

Harry pushed more power into it than was probably advisable. The result was a light so
bright it shone orange-yellow against his own closed eyelids and must be burning anyone
else’s. The troll roared yet again, this time in pain. There was another crash when he smashed
into the still standing row of sinks at its back, its booming footsteps shaking the floor.

Travers was suspiciously silent, but Harry had no time to check on him. That was because,
just this moment, the bathroom door opened and a black-robed figure launched itself into the
room with a high-pitched battle cry.

For just a second Harry was struck speechless by the spectacle Neville Longbottom made,
jumping onto a fully grown mountain troll to start hitting it on the head with his fists.

“Neville, get away from it!”

But Neville was apparently blinded by rage as he pummelled the troll’s three faces.

By the time he’d shaken off most of the shock, the troll had dropped its club and was clawing
at his faces, trying to get the annoying little boy off its shoulders. Neville made a surprisingly
good imitation of Dudley.

“Neville, get down!”

Blinded by, Harry figured, rage, but mostly a bad conscience, his friend didn’t notice the
hand that finally grabbed him by one leg. Then he was held up, dangling upside down and
being watched by three blinking pairs of eyes.

“Hey!”, Harry screamed, picked up a fallen pipe and threw it at the closest head,
accompanied by a push of magic.

It probably would have bounced right off, but even a troll would notice a piece of metal
sticking out of one of its eyes. The roaring intensified, but was accompanied by Neville’s
scream as the hand holding his leg tightened. Harry could hear the crack even over the other
noise in the bathroom.
“Locomotor mortis!”

The troll’s legs locked together with a smack. Seeing as it had been stumbling around in pain,
it was suddenly thrown off balance and, with another roar, went down.

Flailing its arms, it let go of Neville, who crumpled to the floor right in front of the falling
troll. Harry didn’t even utter a spell, but, in his desperation, managed to pull Neville forward
with wordless magic anyway just before he could be crushed by the creature. There was a
boom, the rubble bounced up a feet at the impact, then it was silent but for the dripping from
the crushed taps and a few pieces of ceramic rolling around. There was some dust in the air
that refused to settle, so Harry followed Neville’s sniffles.

“Nev?”

The boy looked up, hair full of grey plaster and eyes full of tears.

“H-h-harry…”

Harry offered him a hand to pull him up and even though he winced at it, Neville managed to
stand, balancing on the uninjured leg.

“Is it… dead?”, he asked.

Just in that moment, the troll opened two of its eyes and roared. Of course they weren’t that
lucky.

“Get back!”

Neville threw himself towards the door while Harry raised his wand yet again. “Wingardium
leviosa!”

The club, which had rolled to the side, rose into the air until it was positioned right above the
troll. Two heads seemed to be unconscious, so Harry aimed for the third. He grimaced, but let
the huge piece of wood fall either way. Why change what had worked the last time, after all?

There was a nauseating crunch that made him flinch, then another crack as the club rolled off
the troll and broke some more of the floor tiles on its way down. Then there was finally
silence.

Before Harry could even take a deep breath and survey the damage, the bathroom door burst
open yet again. This time, a gaggle of professors poured through, blinking at the sight that
greeted them. Harry used the distraction to covertly take a step to the side, feeling more than
hearing the snap under his feet.

There was Neville Longbottom, lying closest to the entrance and blinking up at them while
holding his leg that was definitely sticking out at the wrong angle. There was a giant troll,
lying across the bathroom and taking up most of the space. Shattered tiles, sinks and
bathroom stalls completed the picture. And standing amidst the rubble was Harry, wand still
trained on the creature, but eyes shifting towards them, his mouth in a grim line.
“Well. About time.”

Quirrell took one look at the troll, whimpered and then slid down to sit against the door
frame. His eyes were rapidly switching between the troll and Harry, though Harry was sure
he could see disappointment in them. Professor McGonagall was the first to get over her
shock.

“What on earth were you thinking?”, she shouted. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed! Why
aren’t you in your dormitories?!”

There was anger in her voice and Harry wasn’t sure who it was directed at. Them for
disobeying orders and almost getting themselves killed? The troll for getting in? He rather
thought it might be at herself for not being able to prevent this.

“Mr Longbottom!”

While Snape was poking at the troll and then bound it in chains, she rounded on the
Gryffindor still holding his leg. His face was white, whether from plaster dust or fear and he
was trembling all over. Probably him coming down from the adrenaline rush, Harry mused
detachedly. And should he be hearing that ringing in his ears?

“H-harry wasn’t at the feast. He d-d-didn’t know about t-the t-troll, s-so I went to find h-h-
him. And then…” A full-body shudder ran through him, cutting off any further words.

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows rose. “Why were you not at the feast, Mr Potter?”

“Evans-Potter!”, he said, glaring at her. “Why was there a troll in the castle?!”

“That is no excuse for…”

“A troll. In a school full of children”, he repeated. “All three of us could have died!”

“All three?”

Snape waved his wand and the dust disappeared from one second to the next - enough to
clear the air and show Travers lying on a pile of rubble towards the back. Snape immediately
rushed towards him and Harry had to control the urge to roll his eyes. Of bloody course.
Check on the asshole first.

He muttered a few spells, then sighed in relief. “He is unconscious, but alive. Some broken
bones, bruised ribs and shallow cuts, but Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix him.”

“I think he fainted just as Neville was running in”, Harry said. “Not even from being
smacked into the stall; that happened first.”

The teachers grimaced at that.

Meanwhile, Neville pulled himself up some more, once again wincing at moving his leg. “I
heard the crashing and screaming and there weren’t any professors around and…”
McGonagall opened her mouth yet again, but Harry cut her off. “We should get to the
hospital wing. Neville is hurt. Not to mention Travers.”

“And you, Mr Evans-Potter?”

It was the first thing Quirrell had said and Harry wasn’t imagining the red burning
somewhere deep behind his eyes.

Yes, what about him, actually. Harry frowned, then started taking stock of his limbs and
general state. There were a few scratches, probably from flying debris, his robes were so torn
he wasn’t sure even Kreacher would be able to fix them, his hands were starting to shake, but
he could easily let his sleeves fall over them. Otherwise…

“I think I’m okay. Though I may go into shock once the adrenaline has worn off. Do you tend
to ramble when you are in shock?” He pursed his lips and adopted a thoughtful look.

In truth, he was fighting to keep the shaking in his limbs to a minimum. (Later. Break down
later.) Yes, good plan.

At least his thoughts were swirling in such a way that even if Snape or Quirrell tried
legilimency on him, they’d probably just get a headache. Still, Harry started to lock down
everything that would seem suspicious. But no matter how much he tried to push the
memories down, some kept coming back up. So he tried to concentrate on everything
innocuous that had actually happened to keep it at the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t too
difficult; he could still see the troll looming over him, over Travers… over Neville.

Neville had messed up his plans quite a bit, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at
the reckless Gryffindor.

“Neville - thanks. I’m not sure I would have made it if you hadn’t distracted it.” He probably
would have. But Neville didn’t need to know that.

His friend finally turned a different colour than white when all the blood rushed to his face.
“I-it’s fine. I didn’t do that much. Didn’t even remember I had a wand. Not that it would have
done much good…”

“He jumped on the troll’s back and started hitting it in the face”, he explained to the
confused-looking adults. "Or faces", he added after a moment's thought.

McGonagall paled drastically and started eyeing Neville some more.

“Almost got crushed by the troll when I locked its legs together too. Do you still believe you
don’t belong in Gryffindor?”, he asked the boy. “You took on a bloody troll!”

To save me remained unsaid because it felt too heavy on Harry’s tongue. He should have
taken this into account. Neville never should have been anywhere near here, never should
have been in danger. Then again, Kreacher had seemed seconds away from trying to pop
Harry out of the bathroom too, so the elf was probably thinking the same thing about him.
They had figured apparition by house elf shouldn’t set off the alarms if he was still popped to
somewhere within the castle. And if there was ever a situation to test it, this would have been
it. It would have been the perfect excuse too should anyone have questioned it. Harry may
have even been able to call a kitchen elf; he knew some of their names by now.

“Hospital wing!”, Snape reminded them.

While everyone was standing around uselessly, the potions master had managed to splint
Travers’ arm and leg and levitated him into a horizontal position.

“Yes. Of course.” A flustered McGonagall held up her wand. “Please stay still, Mr
Longbottom.”

Neville, to his credit, only gave a small shout of surprise when he was suddenly lying on a
stretcher floating next to his head of house.

“My wand!”, he remembered.

While everybody looked around frantically, Harry held back a wince. “Er, about that…”

Harry bent down to pick up the wand that was lying right next to him in between some pieces
of razor sharp tiles. It was broken right in the middle, barely held together by a piece of
dragon heart string poking out of the wood.

“I think I stepped on it when I was dodging that troll…”, Harry lied.

Neville’s face fell when Harry carefully laid what was left of his father’s wand into his hands.

“I’m so sorry.”

And he was, even when he knew it was for the best. The other boy was tearing up and
clutching the broken pieces to his chest. “Is there… is there a way to fix it?”, he stuttered,
turning tear-stained eyes on Professor McGonagall.

But the stern woman shook her head, looking uncharacteristically sympathetic. “I’m afraid
not, Mr Longbottom. But we will find a way to replace it.”

“Hospital wing!”, snapped Snape.

Professor McGonagall started. “Of course.”

The procession that was making its way towards Madam Pomfrey was a sight to behold.
Leading the charge was Professor McGonagall with Neville on the stretcher next to her,
Harry trotting obediently after her. Next came Snape, floating Travers behind him. Bringing
up the rear was Quirrell, wringing his hands and tugging on his turban nervously every once
in a while. Madam Pomfrey gave an almighty shout when the first person stepped into her
domain and was immediately all over the students.

“Mr Longbottom - oh, Mr Evans-Potter! And Mr Travers. Please put them on the beds right
there - gently, Severus! - now, step back and let me work.”
They did just that, Snape scowling darkly in some corner. Harry could see him wince ever so
slightly and favour one of his legs. Fluffy had still gotten him, then. Harry couldn’t find it in
him to care.

“Mr Evans-Potter, onto the bed please!”

“But I…”

The matron frowned at him disapprovingly. Harry shut up and got on the bed.

“Now then. For Mr Travers some pain relievers, maybe a half dose of skele-grow just to
make sure his ribs are alright and then a dose of dreamless sleep… Severus, would you take
care of the cuts while I take a look at Mr Longbottom?”

“Of course.”

The man’s sneer didn’t vanish, but he did start waving his wand over Travers, healing the
shallow cuts one after the other. Madam Pomfrey was tutting over Neville’s leg, doing some
healing work on her own and plying him with potions. Harry found it all fascinating and
made sure to keep an eye on the proceedings.

“And now, Mr Evans-Potter.”

He looked wide-eyed at the woman and went a bit cross-eyed when he tried to keep the tip of
her wand in view as well. At least her frown didn’t deepen while she cast diagnostic charm
after diagnostic charm at him, only mmh-ed and noted something down on a little pad
floating at elbow-level.

“You seem to have gotten off lightly, everything considered. A slight shock, some bruises,
and your magic is quite depleted, but you should be good as new after a good night’s rest and
some magic replenisher to help you along. And…” She did frown now. “Maybe some bone-
strengthening solution for a week or so. Your bones don’t seem to be quite dense enough.”

“I didn’t get a lot of vitamin D when I was growing up. What with being locked up in a
cupboard a lot of the time.”

It was like he had dropped a bomb in the room that had sucked all the air out of it. Everybody
was staring at him now, even Professor Quirrell. Maybe he should make a habit of shocking
the professors at least twice a day; it would do them some good. McGonagall had pursed her
lips, but was staying silent on the matter.

“Explain.”

That, surprisingly, was Snape. Harry kept in the gleeful cackle and instead hunched his
shoulders down and lowered his head to keep everyone from seeing his dancing eyes.

“Well… my uncle didn’t like magic much. And thus, he didn’t like me.” When he glanced
up, he saw McGonagall’s lips becoming thinner. “Don’t worry! My aunt kicked him out at
Christmas. It’s fine now.”
“Have you ever had your magical vaccinations, Mr Evans-Potter?”, asked Madam Pomfrey.

“What’s that?”

“I take it that means no.” She sighed. “Minerva, didn’t you inform his aunt of the
procedure?”

“But… she knew about the magical world!”

Now it was Harry’s turn to glare. “Not enough”, he snapped. “She was left completely alone
with a magical child, an abusive husband and her own baby. Of course she was out of her
depth! The only thing she got was a child dropped off at her doorstep in the middle of the
night and a measly letter.”

Everyone exchanged glances, though Quirrell kept staring at him. Harry carefully avoided his
eyes, even though his own curiosity was screaming at him to try and read the look on his
face.

“So I’m guessing I need those vaccines then?”

“Yes, Mr Evans-Potter, you rather do. But that can wait until your body is fully functional
again and you’re not on the verge of a panic attack.”

Huh. He was. Harry could feel his pulse racing in his veins as if trying to fly out of his throat.
The trembling, which had gone down a bit on his way to the hospital wing, had returned with
a vengeance. When Madam Pomfrey gave him a vial with a blue liquid, it was sloshing
around quite a bit because of his trembling hands. Harry still eyed it before deciding a
calming draught would probably help, then downed it in one go.

Immediately, he felt a warmth spreading out from his chest and sending tendrils into every
limb. Where the warmth hit, the shaking stopped and after he took a deep breath, even his
frantic heartbeat calmed down.

“Thanks”, he said. “And sorry for talking your ear off.”

There was a smile on the matron’s face now. “No problem at all, Mr Evans-Potter.”

Neville was gently snoring on the neighbouring bed, his deep breaths calming Harry down
some more. Two beds farther down lay Travers, still looking slightly pale, but gaining colour
rapidly and also sleeping deeply. Harry had to fight the urge to smother him with a pillow. He
still needed the guy after all.

“Do you want to return to your dorm for the night?”, asked Madam Pomfrey.

Harry, whose eyes had almost closed of their own accord, blinked them open. “No, I think I
better stay here. I’m not sure I’d make it all the way without falling asleep.”

“Very well then. And tomorrow…”

The peace and quiet was shattered by the door banging open and Albus Dumbledore rushing
in. Harry felt his sleepiness fade immediately and, sighing, pulled up his occlumency shields
to full strength once more. Or what passed for full strength in his current condition, anyway.

“Severus! Minerva! I heard…” He blinked, let his eyes wander over the three students tucked
into the beds, then blinked again and focused on Harry.

“Albus, how nice of you to make it here.” That was Snape and Harry’s eyebrows lifted
almost enough to disappear into his hairline. That sounded as sarcastic as he had ever heard
the professor.

“Ah, yes. I was in the dungeons, leading Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout on the hunt
for the troll. And then we heard a ruckus from upstairs and rushed towards it, only to find the
troll subdued and bound and utter destruction left in a girl’s bathroom.”

“Yes”, Snape drawled. “You should ask Mr Potter what that was all about.”

“Evans-Potter”, Harry growled. He was in shock. He was allowed to glare at a teacher, right?

“Mr Evans-Potter?”, Dumbledore prompted.

“Oh shush, Albus! All of you, actually. I’ve got patients that need a good night’s sleep, not an
interrogation! He will make much more sense tomorrow morning when the shock of facing a
fully grown mountain troll has worn off!”

At least McGonagall had the decency to look ashamed. Even Dumbledore had lost the
twinkle in his eye and his mouth had gone thin; Harry could have sworn that was worry in his
eyes.

“And now out, all of you! I will not have you disturb anyone’s rest further! Shoo!”

There was a reason nobody argued much with Madam Pomfrey. Even Snape, dour as he was,
found himself suddenly standing in the hallway, the door being closed in his face. And
finally, silence reigned for real.

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey.”

That got another smile out of her. “Sleep, Mr Evans-Potter. Any questions can wait for the
morrow. As can discussing your medical file.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey.” He nodded meekly, then drew his blanket up to his chin and closed
his eyes. He heard Madam Pomfrey’s steps, then a door close - and then he snapped his eyes
open again.

“Kreacher”, he hissed.

There was a pop that sounded a bit louder than usual and suddenly, Harry had an arm full of
house elf.

“Oh! Young Master! Kreacher was so scared!”

 “Shhh”, Harry hissed, patting the elf on the back while keeping an eye on the door to Madam
Pomfrey’s quarters.

“Kreacher is sorry.” His lower lip started trembling, eyes tearing up. “Young Master almost
be smashed by a troll!”, he wailed.

“But I wasn’t. And I wouldn’t have been. After all, you were there, watching over me.” He
tried giving the elf a reassuring smile, but Kreacher still pulled on his ears in distress until
Harry tugged them away.

“Kreacher should have taken the Young Master and run as soon as the troll arrived, yes, he
should have.”

“No, Kreacher. Otherwise, the plan wouldn’t have worked.”

“Kreacher is not caring about the plan if Young Master is being dead!”

Harry clamped his hand over the house elf’s mouth to shop the shrill shriek. Then he listened
for Madam Pomfrey. And listened. He only sighed in relief when the door stayed shut.

“You did really well, Kreacher, believe me. And I’m glad you were there.”

“Young Master is telling the truth?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Kreacher is being a good house elf?”

“The best”, Harry promised.

That, at last, seemed to calm the elf down. He nodded to himself once. “Kreacher be right
back.”

There was another pop and Harry was left staring at the place the elf had just been, only an
indent in the blanket proving he had been there. He still flinched when Kreacher returned just
a minute or so later, a large mug in his hands. The first thing he noticed was a certain green
snake slithering up to him and worriedly flicking its tongue at him again and again. Any
protest died as soon as Harry smelled the hot chocolate. It had marshmallows too.

“Young Master be drinking this - and then sleep.”

“You really are the best”, Harry said, smiling, and took the cup.

Somehow, it was exactly what he had needed. Mehen was hissing quietly at him, seemingly
not even in lecturing mode. So Harry could lean back, finish the hot cocoa, drift off to sleep
and push all his worries off to tomorrow. There would be enough time then.

Chapter End Notes

Sooo… this is another reason why I tagged this as morally grey Harry… I thought very
hard about whether this makes him dark because he did endanger another student’s life,
and more than willingly at that. And he was being really dumb about it too. This could
have gone sooo wrong.
Then again, Travers pretty much deserved having a troll set on him because he was
being as thick as one and even I really wanted to kill him by this point. You’re probably
all going to scream at me about it too. xD
 Going Black
Chapter Summary

Deathblow.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry blinked awake and was at first very confused by the absence of green velvet curtains
and the existence of a bright white ceiling. (Was he at King’s Cross?) What the hell was his
alternate self’s fascination with King’s Cross anyway? This was very obviously the hospital
wing.

In the bed next to him, Neville was still sleeping. Travers was there too, though he was buried
under a blanket and Harry couldn’t see him very well. Then again, he couldn’t see anything
really well.

He blinked some more, this time because Madam Pomfrey had apparently never heard of
contact lenses and he had just spent a night with them in. He had forgotten about them too,
but that could be excused by having just faced a troll. Bugger, he would be seeing everything
through blurry fog for a while now.

Seeing as Madam Pomfrey had not yet appeared, Harry decided it was safe to whisper
“Kreacher!”

The house elf popped in immediately, though Harry put a finger to his lips before he could
say anything. “Please go to my room and get the little container for my contact lenses from
the trunk. And the liquid that goes with it; you know the one? And my glasses.”

Kreacher nodded and popped off. Not even a minute later, the asked for items appeared on
his bedside table. He really could get used to this, Harry decided.

He felt a lot better when he had his lenses out and blinked the dryness out of his eyes.
Wearing his glasses again was a weird feeling and Harry decided the sooner he got rid of the
whole issue, the better. That eye correcting potion was looking more and more tempting.

He gave up on taming his hair after running his hands through it and finding it tangled from
all the plaster and sweat that had ended up in it yesterday. Someone must have cast a cleaning
charm on him when he hadn’t paid attention, but those didn’t untangle the mess that was now
on top of his head. Better just pull it into a ponytail and then empty most of his conditioner
on it later. He also moved a sleeping Mehen under his pillow because he wasn’t ready to face
Madam Pomfrey over that. He wasn’t ready to face her over anything, really.
“Good morning, Mr Evans-Potter! You’re up earlier than expected.”

Madam Pomfrey was definitely a morning person. She seemed less tense than last night and
even offered him a bright smile which Harry immediately returned. It certainly helped that
she was one of the people who had accepted his name change without a fuss. Judging by the
light shining through the window, it was later in the day than Harry would have expected,
however. She must have thought he'd sleep til the afternoon at the very least.

“How about breakfast?”, she asked.

His stomach immediately started to growl and Harry smiled. “Guess that means yes.”

“I’m not surprised. Using huge amounts of magic usually has to be compensated by eating
more the day after and resting. The energy has to come from somewhere and magic
replenishing potions don’t replace the real thing.”

That actually explained a lot but also posed more questions. Like: where did the energy come
from in the first place? Just him? The environment? His wand? A mix of everything? He
added it to the research list.

“What about the vaccine stuff?”

“Oh, your magical inoculation. I’ll need signed permission from your guardian”, said Madam
Pomfrey.

That explained why he’d never gotten them in his memories. Well… depending on who his
magical guardian had been, of course. If he’d had one.

“But we’ll only do them once you’ve fully recovered from this incident.”

“My aunt will be fine with it. Though she’ll probably have questions about whether she and
Dudley - my cousin - will need them too.”

“Muggles don’t…”

Harry sighed. “They’re not muggles. They’re squibs. Can you write her a letter and explain it
yourself, maybe? My address should be in my medical file, right?”

“Very well, Mr Evans-Potter.” The matron gave him a smile. “I’ll let you know when you can
come in for a check-up.”

Harry nodded and decided to concentrate on his food. By the time he had finished off two
plates, Madam Pomfrey deemed him fit to leave. Harry was slightly torn when she offered
that he could stay for a few more hours to postpone his conversation with Dumbledore - she
was of the mind that reliving traumatic experiences should be done under her supervision at
the very least - but Harry was worried Travers was going to wake up any minute and he
wasn’t looking forward to that conversation either. Better get Dumbledore out of the way
first, so that he knew where he stood - and had some more bargaining chips.

-
This was how he found himself standing in front of the ugly gargoyle leading to the
headmaster’s office, having gotten both the location and the password from Madam Pomfrey.
She had insisted on excusing him from all of his classes for today, however.

:Are you sure about this?: Mehen was hiding in his sleeve, having steadfastly refused to leave
him this time.

:It’s going to happen one way or another. Might as well make it on my terms:, he whispered
back. Then he took a deep breath. “Chocolate Fudge.”

There was a slight rumbling and the gargoyle moved to the side to reveal a spiralling
staircase that took him upwards. Soon, he was standing in front of an oak door, knocking
twice with the griffin brass knocker. It took a few moments, but then the door opened and
Harry was standing in Dumbledore’s office.

He looked around as if he had never seen it before - and he hadn’t, not really. The little
knickknacks were spinning and twirling and puffing; Harry didn’t even recognise half of
them, but tried to remember what they looked like in order to look them up later. The
portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses filled the wall, some sleeping, some
looking at him from all sides of the tower. Harry recognised one whose beady black eyes
reminded him of his Aunt Walburga - Phineas Nigellus, then. Harry ignored the stares in
favour of continuing to look around.

“I see you’ve already caused some trouble”, said a voice from behind him.

Harry jumped until he recognised the sorting hat, sitting on top of a shelf filled with books. “I
wouldn’t call it causing trouble, exactly. Or even running into it. It’s more like the trouble ran
into me.”

“In the form of a giant troll.”

“Yes, exactly.”

The hat started laughing, its brim wobbling up and down. “I told you not to scare the little
snakes too much.”

Harry shrugged. “It was just one snake, and not really a little one either.”

The hat continued to snicker and Harry decided he might as well look around some more, as
Dumbledore seemed intent on ignoring him. Or he was waiting for Harry to give away
something important. To the hat, to the portraits - or to Fawkes.

The phoenix was sitting on its perch behind the door, feathers gleaming gold-red and
watching him with keen eyes, its sparkling golden tail hanging almost down to the floor and
shimmering in the light like the glowing embers of a fire.

“Hello there.” Harry had the strange urge to whisper.

The phoenix gave a melodious cry and tilted its head to the side, beady black eyes staying on
his.
“You’re a phoenix, right? I’ve read about them. But I never knew they were so beautiful.”

Carefully judging the bird’s mood, Harry reached out a hand. When Fawkes didn’t use its
golden beak to peck at him, Harry began to scratch its head. The bird closed its eyes and the
melody became even softer and so beautiful it almost brought tears to his eyes. Harry was
suddenly reminded that one of those beautiful tail feathers was in his own wand. Would
anything happen, he wondered, if he used his wand in the phoenix’ vicinity? He did
recognise the singing from when he had picked up his wand for the first time.

Either way, there was no time to find out because the door opened and Dumbledore strode in.
“Ah, Harry. You’ve made it here then. And I see you’ve met Fawkes. He seems to like you.”

The man seemed exceptionally pleased about that.

“Madam Pomfrey finally let me leave the hospital wing.” He grinned. “She can be quite
scary.”

The headmaster chuckled. “Yes, quite. I have to say… I have never seen you with glasses so
far…?”

Harry shrugged. “I usually wear contact lenses. They’re far more practical.”

“Your father wore glasses like those. A bit rounder, perhaps. They make you look even more
like him than you already do. Of course, he never tied his hair back.”

Another shrug. “I am not my parents, nor do I want to be.”

“Indeed.” While his blue eyes still twinkled, his expression grew more serious. “I hope you
have recovered? That was a rather daunting experience.”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly want to face a mountain troll. Reading about them is fine. But…”
Harry’s shudder wasn’t faked. Never again, he swore himself.

“How did it come to that in the first place?”, asked Dumbledore. “And please do take a seat.
We don’t have to stand for the whole conversation.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Harry sat down in a red armchair and tried to order his thoughts. I have to lie, he thought. Or
this is going to be a disaster.

“Maybe we should start with why you weren’t at the feast. I would have thought any 11-year-
old would want to attend a Halloween celebration…?”

“At first, I wanted to. But the Slytherins haven’t been very welcoming so far.” Dumbledore
opened his mouth- “Don’t get me wrong; they’ve been a lot nicer the last two weeks. But I
didn’t feel like sitting with them on Halloween of all days. You know. It being the day my
parents died.”
Harry thought about how he had woken up and felt like mourning his parents for the first
time. How the whole day had felt off as if he was viewing things from under water. Then he
let the conversation with Travers play in his mind, how he had intercepted him in the
entrance hall and followed him up to the girl’s bathroom, Harry barricading himself in the
sturdiest stall he could find.

“So I decided to go to the kitchens for the feast, but wanted to spend an hour or so completely
alone to let the elves work in peace for a bit. Travers must have noticed and gone after me.
Maybe to convince me to come back down to the feast?”

Chased him, more like, and firing spells all the way. But Travers would get in trouble if
Dumbledore knew. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d be expelled…

“We didn’t know about the troll, of course. So by the time he caught up to me, there was a
troll chasing us and we tried to hide in the bathroom. But then we got cornered. And Travers’
spells didn’t do anything.”

He pictured the sink blowing up and the troll growing three heads. And while the latter may
have confused it along with all the noise, it definitely hadn’t helped in the end. In fact, the
older boy had been pretty useless in his mind.

“I managed to blind it with an overpowered lumos - I think that’s what drained most of my
magic, actually. And then Travers fainted. And then Neville ran into the loo and jumped on
the troll’s back, but he didn’t do much damage and I locked the troll’s legs to make it fall.”

He pictured that fight, how brave Neville had been, how scared for him Harry had been. How
furious that he had gotten into this situation in the first place. How helpless he had felt when
his friend had been lying there, injured, and how angry when the troll had dared to wake up
again to threaten them.

“And then I used the spell we learned in Charms to make the club fly up and hit it in the
head. And then the professors came barging in and they probably already told you about
everything else.”

“They did, indeed. Professor McGonagall was furious.” Dumbledore didn’t seem at all
worried about that, more amused than anything else.

“I’m kind of furious too. I mean… what was a troll doing in a school?” He definitely didn’t
have to fake his anger. This never should have been possible.

“That is the question, isn’t it? It never would have found its way in here on its own.”

“So someone let it in?” Harry furrowed his brows in concentration.

“That seems to be the most likely option. Don’t worry; we are looking into it.”

After the last two months here, Harry didn’t feel at all better at that statement. “Thank you,
headmaster.”
“I think after that feat of bravery, you should at least get something out of it. For courage in
the face of true danger and in defence of a friend, I award 20 points to Slytherin.”

“Thank you, headmaster! But Neville deserves some points too”, he quickly said.

“Ah yes, Mr Longbottom. I think 10 points are acceptable for taking on a troll.”

“He’s going to appreciate it.” Harry wasn’t sure if Neville had ever won points for his house.
Maybe in Herbology? He would be ecstatic when Harry told him about it. “I really do want to
go to lunch now, if you don’t mind.”

“But of course! I believe they are serving treacle tart for desert today.” Dumbledore winked.
“I do have to ask, however… are you quite sure that is the version of events that actually
happened?”

How does he know?, Harry thought. But he nodded his head. “Yes, exactly like that.”

“Very well, my boy. Off you go.”

“Goodbye, headmaster.”

He nodded at the twinkling eyes, stroked Fawkes’ feathers on last time and then made his
way to the door.

“Oh! One more thing.”

Dumbledore looked surprised when Harry turned back around.

“I was told there was a mail ward still active around me. I figured you might know who put it
there and how to get it off? I mean… I’m very thankful it was there until now.” Alone
thinking about what Vernon’s reaction may have been to Privet Drive being inundated by
owls had nightmare potential. “But now that I know about magic and my aunt and cousin are
fine with it too…”

The twinkle in the headmaster’s eye got more thoughtful. Harry stared back.

“I will look into it, Mr Evans-Potter.”

“Thank you, sir!” Harry gave him a smile before finally leaving the room.

He was going to sit at the Slytherin table, he swore to himself - just not today. Today he
needed a break and he deserved it. So, to the kitchens it was. Maybe there were some
leftovers from the Halloween feast as well; he did like the thought of pumpkin pasty.

The farther he got away from the headmaster’s tower, the more he relaxed the stranglehold he
had on his occlumency shields. It had been exhausting and he could feel the magic he had
regained during the night wanting to lash out too. But with Dumbledore, there could be no
mistakes. With Dumbledore, he had to be Harry Potter, the person who would gladly accept a
measly 20 points for escaping a life-threatening situation. The golden boy, the Slytherin with
the heart of a Gryffindor who would even defend a bully and face any danger to save his
friends, even when they had not talked to him in weeks.

Shedding the persona was like peeling the skin off a sunburn.

:Do you think he bought it?: Mehen, who had been hiding even deeper in his sleeve today,
finally dared to poke his head out.

:I hope so.: He better. That had been bloody difficult. Keeping his true intentions down,
letting real memories and feelings play in his mind and then lying to Dumbledore’s face? :It’s
not something I want to make a habit of, thanks.:

Mehen just hissed soothingly, then hid away again. Today, they were taking no more risks
than necessary - though Mehen had decided going with him to the meeting in the first place
was definitely a necessity.

At least Dumbledore liked him now, which should mean he might get the invisibility cloak.
That would certainly be easier than explaining how he knew that Dumbledore had it and
trying to force him to give it back. That was worth not seeing Travers expelled - right?

Blaise didn’t seem to think Harry deserved a break. He was waiting in the kitchen, arms
crossed, a stormy expression on his face. Harry just sighed.

“Alright. Go ahead.”

“Ma, che sei grullo?! You bloody idiot!”, Blaise exploded. “You leave me in the kitchens to
go battle a troll? Are you absolutely fucking insane?!”

“Possibly”, Harry said. (Definitely.)

“I was so worried when the elves told me to stay in here to avoid a bloody troll! And then
you weren’t in the dorm last night; I was worried sick! Even Draco Malfoy didn’t get a whit
of sleep and you know that’s saying something!”

Blaise’s hands were clenched at his sides as if he barely kept himself from throwing himself
at Harry - whether to hug him or punch him was probably yet to be determined.

“And then the whispers started that Travers was missing too. And today at breakfast
everybody was talking about Longbottom and how he tackled a troll… he didn’t really tackle
a troll, did he?”

“Jumped right on its back and pummelled it in the face”, confirmed Harry.

“…you can’t be serious. You’re totally serious. Are you serious?”

“Yes, while Travers was lying in a corner, unconscious, Neville Longbottom tackled a troll.”

“For your sake, I hope that Travers finally gets the message. At least everybody else seems
to. You’re some sort of hero in Gryffindor.”
Harry smirked darkly. “Yes, because I finally fit into the mould they’ve made for me. The
headmaster just looooves me right now too.”

Blaise snorted. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s not going to last.”

He was probably right and Harry decided to ignore it all for now and finally do what he came
here to do. The house elves had already put a veritable feast in front of him; they must be
sensing when someone’s magic was low, and Harry’s was just about depleted.

The food did help and even Blaise had calmed down a bit by the time they were done stuffing
their faces with treacle tart. When he commented on the glasses Harry was still wearing,
Harry finally remembered he still had those on - and immediately went into the nearest
bathroom to change back to his contact lenses; he had an image to keep, after all. The glasses
had been useful for his visit with Dumbledore - he’d take any advantage he could get - but he
really preferred not having something stuck to his face.

Entering a bathroom, any bathroom, was surprisingly panic-inducing. The moment he saw
tiled floors and mirrors glinting in the candlelight, his palms became clammy and his heart
rate picked up. It helped a bit that Mehen tightened around his arm, but even so, he had to
take a deep breath to be able to take the first step.

Then he took another. And another. Breaking tiles flashed in front of his eyes. A giant club
smashing into toilet stalls and pulverising them. Travers lying on the ground, chalk white and
bloody. Neville sitting against the wall, holding his leg, eyes wide and terrified.

Harry closed his eyes and took another breath and let the memory play out in his mind,
wincing at the details he had suppressed so far, like the mindless rage in the troll’s six eyes,
the smell permeating everything... When he opened his eyes again, the bathroom was just a
bathroom.

He still got everything done as fast as possible and almost ran out of the room when he had
put the second lens in and stowed the glasses away into his satchel. That would probably take
a while to work through. For now, he pushed it all down.

“It’s all over”, he whispered. “The troll is gone. Neville is okay, or will be. And Travers…”

They spent the rest of the day just lazing around the castle. Harry played with the thought of
visiting Neville in the hospital wing, but the chance of running into Travers was too high. He
had something else planned for that confrontation. Besides, he needed to have a long
conversation with Neville anyway and the boy deserved a break too. To help that along, he
wrote a letter and sent it off with Hedwig.

Harry decided he needed a stress-free dinner in the kitchens, only interrupted by Blaise
throwing him side glances every once in a while.

“You know they got out of the hospital wing this afternoon?”

“Yup.”
“…do you have a plan?”

Harry grinned at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Alright, shall we?”, Blaise said.

Harry almost wished the kitchens were a bit farther away from the Slytherin common room
because they were standing in front of the sliding wall far too soon.

“I’ve got your back”, said Blaise. “Whatever good that’s gonna do for someone who brought
down a troll.”

“It helps anyway.” Harry smiled, took a deep breath and then wiped all emotion off his face.
“Here we go.”

Travers was waiting in the common room and when Harry came through the door, he stopped
his pacing in front of the fireplace. It seemed like the whole house was assembled, pressing
into every nook and cranny to stay out of the way, but still wanting to see what was going to
happen. Everyone was eyeing him critically - only Travers was glaring.

“I was almost crushed by a bloody troll.” His voice was restrained, but Harry could hear the
tension behind it, just under the surface.

The older student was advancing on him, but actually stopped in his tracks when Harry let his
wand snap into his hand from his wrist holder. He aimed at Travers who was looking
genuinely worried. That alone was enough to start some murmuring among the others.

“Almost being the key word. You asked me to help you. I did.”

And there was the sneer again. Harry thought he might be the only one to realise it was
empty and there was fear in his eyes.

“You? Help me? Oh please. You’re just a first-year. And it seems you still haven’t learned
your lesson.”

And Harry exploded. To be fair, it had been a long time coming.

“I saved your bloody life, you moronic imbecile!”, he shouted. “How many more chances to
step away do I have to give you? I just saved your hide twice. Once by taking down a fully
grown mountain troll so you could get your sorry, unconscious ass out of the way and a
second time by covering for you when the headmaster himself asked me why we were in that
bathroom in the first place!”

It was dead silent in the room, no more whispering, no more side conversation. It was just
Harry letting off steam and Travers looking like he was ready to either punch him or collapse
into a crying mess on the floor. Harry wasn’t sure which of those he was closer to.

“What, and I’m supposed to believe a little shit like you?” He snorted. “I’ll show you…”
“One more chance to walk away. One. Take it.”

It was so hard to keep the wand pointing at the floor. It had been the same while fighting the
mountain troll - or even the Gryffindors who had cornered him before. He had wanted to
throw everything he’d learned from Walburga at it, but first Travers had been there, and then
Neville, and he knew he would have to show most of the memory to Dumbledore. It had been
difficult enough to keep the wandless magic out of his head.

Besides. He knew, no matter how much magic he threw at him, Travers was still a seventh
year. If he hadn’t lost his head, he would have been able to take on the troll as well. He had
more magic at his disposal, especially in Harry’s current magic-depleted state. He had more
knowledge. He had more support. But Harry had planned for this.

It may have been his imagination, but it seemed that the room itself was holding its breath.
Harry could feel more than see Blaise right behind him and he would bet a load of chocolate
frogs that the boy had his wand drawn as well.

“I’ll bring you down”, Travers growled. “If only to prove you’re lying.”

“Alright. That’s it.” Harry pulled himself up as much as he could, but with all eyes of the
common room on him, even an eleven-year-old could look impressive. “I claim a life debt.”

There were the whispers again and the resounding laughter of Travers echoing against the
stone. “Nice try, but only a noble house can call a life debt on another noble house. You
should have done your research better. I’m the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of
Travers, soon to be its lord. You can’t even touch me.”

Harry was sure that was incorrect. Magic was magic, after all, and one life wasn’t worth more
than another just because of a name - though family magic usually made the consequences of
breaking a vow much more severe. He had looked up everything relating to life debts during
his months of research; the custom went back all the way to ancient times in the form of geas,
prophecies and destiny. Nobody could escape their fate if someone had placed them under a
geas.

In the cases he had found of a rescinded life debt, it seemed that it was only cancelled
because people were afraid of the political backlash. But it wasn’t like that was an issue for
Harry.

“Did I say I was calling this debt as Harry Evans-Potter?”

Behind him he could hear Blaise suck in a gasp of air.

“Your life debt is to the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.”

There was dead silence, the last word ringing out against the stone and almost leaving a
visible imprint in the air. And it stayed there for a while, even as Harry lifted his left hand
and finally made the signet ring on his pinkie visible. Some of the students standing against
the wall right next to him leaned forwards to get a closer look.
Harry just raised an eyebrow and nodded at Marcus Flint to step closer. He hadn’t had much
to do with the older boy, seeing as he hadn’t tried to get on the quidditch team yet. Flint
walked towards him and when he touched the ring with his own heir ring and got a zap in
return, his eyebrows rose, as did the interest with which he mustered him.

“Well, well, well. It seems we have the new Heir Black among us.”

The whispers turned into an outright clamour until Harry raised his hand. The house quieted
down within seconds, everybody straining to listen. It was an incredible rush to have so much
power. Over everyone who had shunned him on the word of the boy in front of him.
Everyone who had whispered about him and stared, yet looked the other way in fear of being
singled out next when Harry had been targeted.

Self-preservation. The ability to know which way the wind was blowing. And if the son of a
high-ranking death eater, who would take on the title of Lord as soon as he finished
Hogwarts, told you to keep your head down, you kept your head down. No matter how much
fame being allies with Harry Potter might bring, no matter what your parents may have told
you at home - the easiest way was never to swim against the current.

Blaise Zabini had more sense of self-preservation than the lot of them. And the Slytherins
were starting to realise it.

“I, Harry James Evans-Potter, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, call a life
debt against Tristan Kieron Travers, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Travers. May it
be sealed by our magic.”

There was a flash of light connecting them both as the magic of both houses confirmed his
claim. And it did not matter that he had set it all up. And it did not matter that he had almost
died as well. Because in all of it, Travers had had a choice and he had chosen wrong every
step of the way.

The older boy’s eyes were blown wide, the fear hiding underneath now etched into his face
for all to see. One hand was cradling the other, where his heir ring was sitting and probably
telling him, along with his very magic, that yes, this was really happening, and yes, he was
very much screwed.

Harry turned on the spot and marched towards the dorm room, content to leave a stricken
Travers behind, along with a Slytherin house that had been shaken up properly for maybe the
first time in ten years. The discussions would last deep into the night. And Travers would be
thinking about this for the foreseeable future, trying to figure out what consequences this
would have for him.

Harry had looked it up along with information on life debts and Travers’ family tree, and they
were dire ones. It was old magic, ancient even. If someone owed a legitimate life debt and
the holder acknowledged it, going consciously against it could have interesting results. Some
were punished by their own magic for forfeiting a vow, losing some, or in extreme cases like
murdering the holder of the life debt, all of their magic.
Some were punished by their family magics, for example being suddenly passed over in the
line of succession and having to watch younger siblings or distant relatives assume a title that
should have been theirs. Either way, it was something that nobody would want to face. And
the older your family was, the worse it would be, the collected family magic and family gifts
clamouring for justice and trying to prevent feuds that might wipe out an entire line.

One thing was sure. If he didn’t want to find out what consequences he would face
personally, Travers would have to leave Harry alone. The Blacks had a reputation - and Harry
sure wasn’t going to mess it up, even with his golden boy saviour image. What he had done
just now should be a great foundation.

He could hear steps behind him, so he knew that at least Blaise was following him - probably
to needle him with more questions. Harry almost felt bad for his newest friend. Then again,
he better get used to stuff like this if he wanted to keep up with Harry.

“That was…” There were multiple emotions warring for dominance on his face and in the
end, even Harry couldn’t quite tell which won. “I can’t even put into words what that was.
Everything from reckless and totally insane to absolutely bloody brilliant, probably.” He
combed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that
you’re the Black heir?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I got a life debt out of it.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

Before Harry could answer, the door opened once more to allow in Nott. It was the first time
he openly stared instead of secretly and Harry was careful not to flinch under the piercing
grey eyes.

“You could have absolutely destroyed him. In fact, I’m not quite sure whether it might have
been more merciful”, said Nott.

“So? I didn’t.”

“It was close enough to count. You could’ve had him expelled, too.”

Harry shrugged, really not knowing what to say to that. It was kind of the point of the whole
thing, the life debt and expulsion hanging over him if Harry ever told Dumbledore the truth
of what happened. Not that the man didn’t know. Harry had been able to feel his thought
tendrils combing through the real memories Harry had allowed to be seen.

A part of him had wanted to let Travers get killed, but he knew himself enough to realise it
would have haunted him - and no matter what, the guy was just a 17-year-old with daddy
issues. Another part of him had wanted to let Travers get expelled. But he had already
finished his OWLs and would therefore get to keep his wand. As a Lord, not having his
NEWTS wouldn’t impact him much more than gaining him uncomfortable questions from
his peers and even more of a grudge against Harry.
No. Better to have this hanging over him like the sword of Damocles. Always wondering
when and how Harry would collect the debt. Being humiliated in front of his whole house, by
the person he hated the most. Not being able to retaliate against Harry without risking his
very magic.

It wasn’t perfect, but Harry couldn’t help but think that this was the best way to get Travers
out of the picture entirely. And for the rest of the school year, he would serve as a poignant
reminder to all of Slytherin to show what happened to you if you got in Harry’s way.

Not to mention Dumbledore finally seeing the heroic side of him, which should be enough to
smoothe over the remaining suspicion of him having ended up in Slytherin.

“…you didn’t let the troll in, did you?”, Nott asked.

“Of course not! Letting a troll into a school full of children is just asking for a disaster.”

He would have tried to prevent it if he’d had any indication the teachers would actually
bloody do something about it if he told them about it. He also didn’t want to be known as
some sort of seer because he had absolutely no explanation for where he might have gotten
the information from. It had been much too risky, even if alone the fear of it going completely
differently to last time and the troll hurting someone had been crippling him all day. He’d
almost had a heart attack when Neville had run in.

“…but you knew about it and planned the whole incident around it.”

“I wouldn’t admit to that even if it were true, would I?”

Nott stared some more and surprised Harry by suddenly wringing his hands. “You could have
had him killed and nobody would have blamed you. You probably would have been more
likely to get an order!”

“But I’d never have let anyone get killed.”

“But you could have.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could have.”

Harry just stared.

“Merlin, you’re terrifying.” Nott gave him another once-over. “Let’s be friends.”

Harry blinked. “Er…”

“Theodore Nott, Heir Nott. Call me Theo.”

He automatically took the offered hand and shook it. “Harry Evans-Potter, Heir Black. Call
me Harry.”
Blaise was snickering in the background.

“Blaise, what just happened?”

“You just shocked and awed the whole house of Slytherin into compliance, that’s what just
happened. If anyone thought about going against you, they’re going to be wondering whether
there’s a troll waiting for them too and think twice about it now. The whole school, really, if
we’re being honest.”

“I don’t have another troll.” Harry thought for a bit. “I may be able to organise a dragon.”

Blaise honest-to-god squeaked while Nott - Theo - threw back his head and laughed. Harry
blinked. That was the loudest thing he’d ever heard from the other boy.

“Terrifying”, he repeated and grinned.

The rest of his dorm mates had come back about an hour after the heir Black reveal in the
common room, clearly having discussed the new status quo extensively. Malfoy had half-
glared at, half-critically-mustered him and, with vulnerability in his voice, asked whether he
was truly Heir Black - Harry was happy to prove it with his heir ring yet again.

Malfoy had grimaced some more, ears turning red, stuttered a “nice to be formerly
introduced” and then stumbled off to bed. Blaise had raised his eyebrows at that until Nott
had snorted and loudly asked whether he was too angry about not getting the title himself to
show some proper respect and apologise for almost aiding in the killing of his mother’s birth
house’s future lord. That had made the rest of his face follow the lead of his ears and a red-
faced Malfoy heir had given a real apology.

Harry, of course, graciously accepted it. It wouldn’t do to hold a grudge against someone who
had just acted out of childhood pettiness, even if it had almost gotten him killed. Besides, the
next seven years in this dorm would have turned into a nightmare.

He left Malfoy to lick his wounds, but was cornered by Crabbe and Goyle next. To his ever-
lasting surprise Crabbe, after using his proper title and name, had asked about every little
detail of the troll fight. Seeing as Blaise and Theo were leaning in as well, Goyle had an
intent look of concentration on his face and even Malfoy was peeking around his bed
curtains, Harry had sighed and relayed the fight, then in more detail, then in excruciating
detail. Goyle’s eyes had almost popped out, he had caught Theo mouthing “terrifying” yet
again, and Crabbe and Blaise had started debating how much a troll club must weigh while
Malfoy had looked mostly scared beyond belief and even paler than usual.

Overall, it was still the most engaging conversation they had ever shared.

The interrogation continued at breakfast. November 2nd marked the first day in over a month
that Harry sat down at the Slytherin table. Everybody was trying not to stare at him and
failing miserably, though the older Slytherin students managed to hide it better than the other
houses, at least. Travers was mysteriously missing, though Rosier and Jugson were sitting
towards the bottom of the table and keeping their heads down. Theo mused they were
probably counting their lucky stars to have left the sinking ship before the troll incident.
Harry just thought two more life debts towards him may have been nice.

He had gone to breakfast early and sat down right in the middle of the table, flanked on either
side by Blaise on his right and Theo on his left. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had sat down
diagonally across from them. Pansy was sitting next to them and whispering urgently to
Draco, who was staring kind of forlornly at his scrambled eggs.

“So.”

A girl plopped herself down right opposite, startling Harry out of staring at his oatmeal to
avoid all the looks.

“Er, hi?”

“Oh. Right. Tracey Davis, nice to meet you, Heir Black, call me Tracey, yadda, yadda...” She
propped her elbows up on the table and tilted her head to the side. “So. How did you beat a
troll?”

“Er… Harry Evans-Potter, heir to…”

“Yes, I know all about the title. Everyone in Slytherin knows about the title - great show by
the way. But what about the troll?”

Blaise was unsuccessfully trying to drown his snickers in a glass of orange juice and even
Theo’s eyes were twinkling in amusement. Daphne Greengrass had sat down next to her
friend and, though she was giving Tracey a look, seemed curious enough not to derail the
conversation. Lily Moon, with whom Harry had never even made eye-contact, was sitting
right next to her, a book on her lap. Although he noticed her eyes weren’t moving over the
page and she hadn’t turned one so far.

And so Harry just sighed and retold the troll story in as much detail as he could stomach over
breakfast. By the time the meal was over, it was being repeated all along the table.

It was obvious that a similar thing was happening at the Gryffindor table. Neville, who was
sitting sandwiched between Ron and Hermione, was keeping his head down and his ears had
been red since before he had walked into the Great Hall. That may have been because of his
entrance, though, as the Weasley twins had decided to escort him, loudly announcing “All
hail Neville Longbottom, slayer of trolls!”

Harry was just happy to see him up and about, and when he saw the other boy hurry out of
the hall, he quickly ran after him and managed to catch him just before he stepped into the
entrance hall.

“Neville, wait up!”

Heads were turning all around, eyebrows rising. Neville ducked his head some more. Ron
and Hermione were exchanging a look over his head.
“H-harry?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You stayed in the hospital wing longer than I
did…”

“Oh! Yes, I’m fine.” He hesitated. “So is that Travers guy, though he was very angry…” He
trailed off and shuffled his feet. If the three Gryffindors hadn’t recognised Travers when he
had attacked Neville, they sure knew he had done it now.

“Oh, him. Don’t worry. He shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open.

“He’d be right mad to try and attack someone who tackled a fully grown mountain troll.”

Neville’s ears turned redder still. It was almost fascinating to watch. “Uhm… everybody is
talking about it, but I didn’t even do much!”

“Neville. Headmaster Dumbledore himself awarded you 10 points for the whole thing.”

“W-w-w…”

“Oh!” Hermione smacked her hands together. “That explains where the points came from!
I’ve been wondering about that all of yesterday.”

Of course she was keeping track of the house points. Of bloody course.

“Yeah, well. I’m still sorry about your wand, of course”, he said. “I wrote to your
grandmother too…”

“You did what?”, squeaked Neville.

Ron covered his ears and grimaced.

“I wrote to you grandmother and offered to pay for a new wand. After all, I was the one who
stepped on it. And without you, I might be dead.”

“Without you I would be dead for sure! Harry, you don’t have to…” He stopped and ducked
his head. “I guess it’s up to her now anyway. And… at least I won’t have to tell her about
breaking my wand; she will be so mad”, he whispered. “It was my dad’s wand, after all, and
he…”

“Breaking it during the fight against a troll is a very honourable way for it to go. I think
you’ll be fine.”

Neville didn’t seem to think so, but Harry had already decided that, even if Augusta
Longbottom made a big deal out of this, he would defend his friend to the ends of the earth;
after all, he’d stepped on it on purpose. If they were friends again, that was.
“Neville… I’m not sure why you came after me yesterday, but you did and I have to ask: do
you want to continue avoiding me, or…?”

“Oh! No! Of course not!” That was almost as loud as the shriek from before. “I realised that
I’ve been a bad friend to you; it wasn’t your fault after all. And seeing you all alone all the
time…” He winced.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not.”

Okay, it really wasn’t. But Harry was still glad that Neville had managed to find his courage a
whole five years early - even if he was still a stuttering, rambling mess. The rest of the anger
he had held in his heart at the whole situation vaporised like water in a tea kettle.

“Er, Harry…? I…”

Harry’s eyebrows rose because that had come from Ron, of all people, whose ears were
turning almost as red as Neville’s.

“I guess I wanted to say sorry too. I mean… you’re obviously not half-bad, what with
defending Neville against a troll and all that.”

“Thanks.”

Ron’s apology was harder to swallow. After all, he’d only deemed him worthy after Harry
had faced a troll and that just wasn’t enough. While it had worked as the basis for a
friendship the last time, that was because Ron had been there. Now, though…

“I’m sorry too. I just wasn’t used to… It’s just that…” Hermione trailed off and started
twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Should we all study in the library again?”, she
asked. “That switching spell has been giving me trouble for days now!”

It was so hard not to scream yes and forget it all. He missed Ron. He missed Hermione. But
those two were not the Ron and Hermione from his memories and Harry didn’t know if he
wanted them to be; it might hurt more if they were. There hadn't been a real apology for
ignoring him all this time and thinking they might only want to be his friends because he was
finally behaving like a Gryffindor... It hurt.

“I’m already part of a study group, thanks”, said Harry. “You’re welcome to join, though,
Neville.”

They both gaped at him. The temperature may have dropped a few degrees. Hermione’s
mouth stayed open and Ron was looking almost sheepish while Neville was shuffling his
feet.

“Harry! Please tell me you didn’t take on a troll”, said Hannah, who had come up from
behind, saving him from the awkwardness. “I’m guessing we can be friends in public again
because you’re talking to Neville?”
 Now it was his turn to gape at her.

“Great, so that’s sorted then. Now. Tell me those rumours are bogus.”

“They’re not, sadly. Though it wasn’t just me. Neville helped.”

“Oh! Makes sense. Well done, Neville. But we will talk about why you didn’t run away
later”, she promised and the look in her eyes actually made Harry shudder. “We were going
to look for you and tell you about the troll after Quirrell barged in, but the others wouldn’t let
us out of their sight.”

Harry had never been more thankful to the other Hufflepuff students. Endangering Neville
had been bad enough.

“But you were always alone!”, Hermione burst out. “What study group are you even talking
about?!”

Hannah gave her a cold look and the contempt in Susan’s eyes made the other girl flinch
back.

“Other than some people, Hannah and I don’t give a damn about what other people say and
stay friends with whomever we please. And just because you may have apologised for your
behaviour towards Harry, that doesn’t mean he’s obligated to forgive you. You show you
have changed through deeds, not just words. Now. Same time, same place in the library?”
Susan turned towards him, ignoring Hermione. “And bring Zabini. He seems okay.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.” Harry saluted her and could tell she was amused by the sparkle in her
eyes.

“See you later, Harry!”

And with that, the two were off.

“If you want to come, Neville - we usually meet on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what
else is going on, right after lunch. Sometimes during the week too, though that varies. You’re
welcome to join us.”

“I’ll…” He threw some sideways glances at Ron, who looked flabbergasted, and Hermione,
who looked angry. “I’ll come.”

“Neville! You can’t just exclude us like that!”

Harry took that as his cue to go. This was Neville’s problem now, and if he let his mind be
changed by one Hermione Granger, that would be his loss. He was tired of running after
people. If someone wanted to be his friend, that was their decision as much as his.

Chapter End Notes

Aaaand that’s arc 1 of Part 2 done! If anyone can imagine how writing towards that felt,
it’ll be the people who had to wait a week for a new chapter. God, it hurt to make it
worse and worse for Harry each chapter until he finally got the chance to strike back.
And Travers just would not. Let. It. Go. Please take on Elsa as your new role model,
dude.
 About Being Normal
Chapter Summary

Things calm down. A lot. Well, mostly.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

They quickly established a new normal. Blaise was still sticking to his side like glue, but
luckily got along just fine with Susan and Hannah. He eyed Neville more critically, but
seemed to decide not to mess with someone who’d taken on a mountain troll for Harry. Their
library sessions continued and became an almost daily occurrence. For breakfast, Harry sat at
the Slytherin table. Lunch was usually spent at the Hufflepuff table, Neville and Blaise
following his lead. Dinner was either Slytherin or Hufflepuff, depending on his mood and
whether Pansy Parkinson was getting on his nerves again.

The girl had taken to glaring at him and trying to make jokes at his expense, no matter how
often Malfoy tried to get her to stop. She was probably mad about there being no chance of
becoming Lady Black anymore. Or, if she had her eyes on Harry instead, she was taking a
very strange route to accomplish it.

Theo stayed at the Slytherin table, but had taken to joining Blaise and him on their ghostly
interview sessions. They interviewed Binns, though that conversation seemed more like just
another history lesson to them. They found a knight, who was boasting about having been
one of the Knights of Round, but Theo remained sceptical. They also found a nun from the
later medieval age who tried to lecture them on god and the world and tried to convert Theo.

Augusta Longbottom sent three letters on Wednesday morning after making Neville sweat for
days. One was to Harry, thanking him for his offer to pay for a new wand, but respectfully
declining it while also thanking him for saving her grandson’s life. One was to Professor
McGonagall, asking her if she would let Neville leave the school next Saturday to go wand
shopping. The last was to Neville himself. Harry wasn’t sure whether the boy had put it down
since he had first read it, as it seemed to live in his pockets and he would take it out every
now and then to re-read it with wide eyes.

She had ranted a bit about the wand, but was definitely proud of the fact that Neville had
taken on a troll and was getting him a new one as a reward for his bravery. Neville was both
happy and apprehensive about the whole situation, though when he voiced his concerns that
no wand would pick him, Susan and Hannah immediately talked some sense into him.

Harry was surprised to find himself mostly annoyed by the fact that the only time the woman
showed affection was when Neville had been stupidly reckless. That also got him thinking
about how it had been for him in his future memories and made him see some disturbing
similarities.

Seeing the first quidditch match from the outside was one of the weirdest experiences Harry
had ever had - and he counted getting future memories in the first place among that. Some
6th year Gryffindor had taken over as seeker and even after just five minutes, Harry could tell
he wasn’t very good. His flying pattern was erratic, he trailed after the Slytherin seeker for
most of the game and the Weasley twins were relegated to circling him because he couldn’t
even dodge a bludger. When McGonagall had complained about the lack of a seeker in his
memories, she sure hadn’t been kidding.

The only good thing about it was that Harry was a Slytherin this time around and their team
was pretty decent. Terence Higgs was an okay seeker, though he missed the snitch when it
was flying right by him; didn’t he have any eyes? though Blaise and Theo assured him it was
almost invisible and how the hell had Harry even noticed it?

Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were, sadly, having an amazing game and racking up
the points for Gryffindor. It helped that the twins were otherwise occupied, though, and both
teams were neck to neck for a while. And Harry… honestly had a blast. It was fun to wave
his green and silver scarf, shout in anger at Gryffindor goals and celebrate when Slytherin
scored, complain about the blind seekers, try to ignore the fouls Marcus Flint seemed too
fond of and be mad at the biased commentary by Lee Jordan. When Higgs finally caught the
snitch and Blaise hugged him while dancing up and down, Harry felt normal for the first time
in months.

This was what Hogwarts was supposed to be like. Watching a sports game, cheering for his
team, having fun with friends… Plotting was fun in its own way, but the last two months had
been very rough indeed.

What was weirding him out a bit was that nothing whatsoever strange happened during the
quidditch match. There was no cursed broom and Snape’s cloak didn’t go up in flames. It
made Harry wonder whether Quirrelmort had given up on his murderous urges, or whether he
would have to watch his step in general from now on.

Then again, was it really Hogwarts if someone wasn’t trying to kill him?

The victory party in the common room was very memorable, though, and Harry made a name
for himself yet again - this time for getting butterbeer from the kitchens for everyone and,
even better, having found a crate of fire whiskey in the Room of Requirement that he had
Kreacher help him sneak down.

“You’re not half bad, Evans-Potter”, was Flint’s comment on the whole situation and that
sentiment seemed to be echoed by everyone else.

-
Blaise continued following him to Hagrid, as he had taken a liking to the half-giant. Funny
enough, it seemed to be reciprocated by Hagrid. Sometimes, Theo came with them, though it
wasn’t often. Harry was glad for both of them, though, especially because Mehen was
growing a bit more sluggish and sleepy by the day and often preferred to stay in his warm
bed. The snake seemed to fight valiantly against the tiredness, but Harry certainly didn’t
blame the reptile for being influenced by the cold temperatures that even magic couldn’t
quite counter.

Theo was there too when Harry let it slip that he knew about Fluffy, which got him another
wide-eyed look from his newest friend.

“So you could have just sicked a three-headed dog on him instead of a troll? Are you not
running out of creatures yet?”

Harry couldn’t exactly argue with him because luring Travers to Fluffy had been the
alternative plan. But he kind of liked the three-headed dog and hadn’t wanted to hurt it.
Hagrid may not have forgiven him either.

Hagrid also talked about picking up something really important from Gringotts on the day of
the break-in, which made him look slightly guilty and made Blaise and Theo exchange
concerned glances. Considering Hagrid's fascination with dangerous creatures, Harry didn't
blame them. He didn’t mention Nicholas Flamel, so only Harry walked out knowing the
Philosopher’s Stone had indeed been hidden in the castle again. Not that he’d had much
doubt. The troll had been a rather forceful reminder.

It was also then that Harry found out that he wasn’t the only student visiting Hagrid. Ron
Weasley had, apparently, started coming down here every once in a while - which they
realised when he knocked just as Harry was soaking his rock cake in the over-brewed tea.

There was an awkward moment with the red-head staring at him, him staring at Ron and
Hagrid looking like he didn’t notice or didn’t want to notice the atmosphere. Ron hesitated
when Hagrid invited him inside with a “the more the merrier” and awkwardly perched on his
stool as if he had half a mind to run out of the hut.

Hagrid was a life saver. The conversation stagnated for a while until it turned towards
dragons. Harry loved hearing about them, Hagrid loved talking about them, and Ron had
inside knowledge due to Charlie.

And while Harry wouldn’t say there were friends after that afternoon, they weren’t at each
other’s throats anymore. It did help that Ron finally used his real name and seemed to have
accepted the green tie.

After much begging, Harry was allowed to accompany Hagrid when he was feeding Fluffy. It
was daunting to enter the room at first, but it helped that Fluffy wagged his tail at the sight of
Hagrid and the bucket of raw meat he was carrying. It also explained why the door could be
opened with a simple alohomora.

While Hagrid carried the key to the room on his ring with all the others, Harry knew his
friend wasn’t allowed to use magic. Enchanting the door further was out of the question if
they didn’t want Fluffy to starve and no other professor seemed willing to take on the task.
Not without reason, Harry thought, when he watched Fluffy rip the meat apart before it even
hit the floor.

It took three weeks after the Halloween feast for Quirrelmort to make a move and it came
from an entirely unexpected direction.

One night, Harry was woken up by hissing right next to his ear and found an absolutely
furious Mehen trying to wake him up.

:Harry, Silex says it’s an emergency!:

That was enough to get him out of bed - after casting a sleeping charm on his dorm mates,
just in case. Mehen was still hissing, his throat puffing out menacingly and he tightened just a
bit too much around his arm until Harry told him to stop that.

The common room snakes were similarly agitated, surrounding the mantlepiece again and
looking towards Silex. The stone snake was coiled in a position as if ready to strike and Pip,
who was right next to him, looked very worried as well. Harry knew her well enough by now
to be able to tell when she was upset.

:How dare they?!:, Silex was raging. :This is a safe space for the student snakes. How dare
they endanger them? How dare they betray you?!:

Well, that didn’t sound very promising and Harry told him so. :What happened?:

There was some more furious hissing until Silex snapped at everyone to be quiet. :The
portrait snakes tried to spy on the common room. Orestes: He pointed towards the snake in
the portrait he had told Harry about before :Noticed them and chased them off, of course. But
the audacity…!:

It almost sounded like water was flowing through the room when every single snake started
hissing again. Harry would never admit it, but even he got goose bumps.

:They said a parselmouth was directing them.:

Ah. That was the approach them. Harry didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried
about the fact that they had both chosen such similar routes to get information. At least he
had gotten to the common room snakes first and had them on his side. The thought that
Voldemort could have had eyes even in his dorm room sent a cold shiver down his spine.

:If there actually was another parselmouth in the school… would you have to obey them?:,
Harry asked.

Silex immediately shook his head. :We are tasked to protect the students of Slytherin. If he is
not the head of Slytherin house, he cannot order us.:

:And if he was the Slytherin lord or heir?:

Silex nodded. :Then we would have to obey. But Slytherin currently has no lord or heir. We
can tell.:

Well that was a surprise. Or maybe not. With Voldemort being a wraith, perhaps that didn’t
count as alive in the eyes of magic and, thus, the man had not title for the moment. Whatever
the reason, Harry certainly wouldn’t complain about it, but would have to think long and hard
about some of his future plans.

:Thank you for protecting me.:

:It’s what we are here for:, said Silex. :But we had to warn you immediately. The portrait
snakes are not under the same spells we are; they will listen to their master and spy on you.:

Harry thanked them again and went back to bed, sighing. This complicated matters, but
overall, didn’t change things too much. He had known there could be eyes on him. Now he
simply had the confirmation. It also meant that he could not be seen walking to the Room of
Requirement anymore, as that would definitely set off all sorts of alarm bells for the Dark
Lord that Harry wanted to avoid, so Kreacher would have to take over for him there.

Luckily, the same reason that Voldemort was suddenly interested in him was also the reason
he didn’t have to hide anymore. Surviving an encounter with a troll had improved his status
in the eyes of the whole school, it seemed. So while some Gryffindors were still giving him
the stink eye, now it seemed to be because they truly wanted him in their house and thought
he would fit there better than in Slytherin.

Harry could quietly disapprove, but didn’t discourage the notion because it meant attacks on
him in the corridors had gone down to zero. In a strange twist of fate, though, the portrait
snake situation meant that he was now safer in the common room than anywhere else in the
castle.

He did retaliate, though. By whispering in the right ears, Harry managed to start a rumour
that Quirrel had garlic everywhere because he had a gambling problem, owed some vampire
lord a lot of money and was now hiding at Hogwarts to escape their clutches. He knew that,
the longer the rumour circulated, the more exaggerated the exact nature of his debt would get.

It wasn’t the best he could have come up with, but it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing.
Harry vowed that he would leave it for a week and then come up with a better one.

Overall, Hogwarts was finally what his memories had promised it would be. So, when
Petunia’s letter arrived, asking him when they should pick him up from King’s Cross for the
Christmas holidays, Harry was almost sad not to stay.

Just almost, though. After all, he would finally see Dudley again and he had missed his
cousin terribly. It just wasn’t the same to try to talk with Hannah about fantasy books
because, while she knew a few, she couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm as his cousin.
Besides, none of his close friends were staying in the castle and without them, Hogwarts
would just feel empty.
He had to amend that statement when the Weasley twins made sure to intercept him the day
before everyone was leaving by dragging him into one of the secret passages just as he was
walking by. Blaise was confused for a moment until Harry stuck his head past the tapestry
and motioned him in as well.

The twins eyed him critically. “Looks like our little snake has picked up a snake friend. You
sure we can trust him?”, said one of them.

Harry was still trying to find a way to tell them apart and had come up empty so far. It was on
his list - and by god, he would manage to do it if it took him all five years they were still at
Hogwarts.

“Yeah, Blaise is fine.”

They eyed him some more, then shrugged. “Well then. If we want to catch you alone, we’ll
catch you alone.”

“So. Christmas. Are you leaving?”, asked the other twin.

“Yes, I’m going home.”

“Shame. We had some ideas we thought we could work on. After what we heard about the
end of the Great Slytherin Prank War…”

“So it was you!”, shouted Blaise, but found himself with a hand over his mouth. He blinked
at the twin.

“Actually, it wasn’t-”

“-which is why we were a bit miffed when we were blamed anyway.”

“But we were compensated for that error in judgement.” He winked at Harry.

“And after a week of detentions, for some reason, Snape cancelled all the rest-“

“-and we’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So we lay low for a few weeks.”

“Until you pelted Quirrel’s turban with snow balls.” Harry snorted. “That was truly inspired.”

And they didn’t even know the best part of it. Harry had made sure to appreciate it for all of
them by watching out of a second floor window and laughing his ass off.

“We live to entertain.”

The twins bowed and Harry snorted again. Blaise was watching all of it with wide eyes and
no small amount of trepidation.

“If you need my help for whatever you’re planning, feel free to write me. I’ll owl you back.
And then we can plan when I get back.”
The twins grinned.

“You need anything for Christmas?”, Harry asked them. “Any pranking items I can get you
from Diagon? Potion ingredients for your experiments?”

“Oh, I knew you were our favourite snake!”

“We’ll let you know.”

“Bye, Little Snake!”

“Bye, Snake Friend!”

While the twins scampered off, Harry and Blaise left the secret passage. Blaise was still
staring at him.

“You’re friends with the Weasley twins”, Blaise said.

“Yes.”

“…I can see what Theo means now. You’re actually terrifying.”

Being almost bowled over by his cousin had not been on the list of expected things, but
looking back, it should have definitely been on there.

With a shout of “Harry!” his cousin launched himself at him, much to the amusement of a
giggling Susan and Hannah.

“Hi, Dudley!” Harry found himself returning the hug and being glad that Mehen was hiding
under his scarf today because his arms were definitely needed otherwise. “And hello, Aunt
Petunia.”

The woman actually gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder, which was like a hug from
her, he guessed.

“Welcome home.”

And it did feel like home. Saying goodbye to Susan and Hannah and wishing them Merry
Christmas, nodding at Neville and his grandmother, who gave him a deliberate once-over… it
didn’t take away from the excitement of going back to Number Four. And when the little
white house on Privet Drive came into view, Harry felt his heart beating in his chest and a
feeling of warmth accompany it.

Home. Where he was just Harry Evans-Potter who talked with his cousin about all the
fantasy books he just had to read and what Noah from taekwondo was doing and did he
understand that maths equation Dudley had sent him last week? There was a test after
Christmas. And yes, he may have to explain to his cousin yet again why he couldn’t make the
stuffed toys fly anymore, but he also had to do the washing up.
There was a lot to do until Christmas and, for the first time, Harry was completely involved
in the preparations. Dudley and he were covered in flour when they helped Petunia make
their famous Christmas biscuits and at least half the dough didn’t even make it to the oven.
They hung up garlands and fairy lights, although trying to explain to a grumbling Mehen why
there were suddenly light ins his favourite hedge was a nightmare. They drove to a nearby
Christmas market and Harry had fun being dragged from one stall to the next by an excited
cousin while trying not to spill his hot chocolate and keeping an eye on Petunia to see if she
was buying any last-minute gifts for them.

When they went shopping for Christmas dinner and passed some ugly jumpers, they all got
one. Harry’s was a Christmas tree with pompoms as baubles and little bells that jingled every
time he moved. Dudley got a snowman whose nose was poking out of the fabric. Petunia got
a more tasteful one with a Nordic pattern, though on closer inspection what looked like little
stars on the border were actually swear words and neither Dudley nor he were brave enough
to point it out to her and Harry was still not sure whether she knew and was pulling their legs.

There was Christmas music sounding from the kitchen or living room at all times. There was
home-made eggnog, including an alcohol-free version for Dudley and him, while the
alcoholic version was shared with Mr Monroe and other neighbours who dropped by. And
over all hung the knowledge that 1. the anniversary of the day his life changed was creeping
closer and 2. this Christmas, Vernon and Marge would be nowhere near this house. Just in
case, Petunia had also alerted Mr Monroe. The man could often be seen peeking out of his
window, keeping an eye out for unwanted visitors - or he made it easy for them all by just
coming over and getting some of Petunia’s baked goods as compensation. When his hands
were shaking sometimes due to an old injury when he picked up Christmas biscuits, nobody
commented on it.

Harry didn’t get around to missing Christmas at Hogwarts too much and decided to take a
break from the wizarding world. Apart from teaching Dudley what he had learned, of course,
and, somewhat surprisingly, teaching Petunia too.

His cousin didn’t get much out of Charms and Transfiguration, of course. The only thing
from DADA he liked was the magical creatures that were mentioned, although he asked why
wizards didn’t just use a sword to behead a dragon if a wand didn’t cut it. Thinking of the
basilisk, Harry couldn’t quite disagree.

Dudley was still very interested in History of Magic and wasn’t even deterred by Harry
explaining how mind-numbingly boring Binns’ lectures were. He could have liked Potions,
but it seemed too much like cooking for him. Petunia, however, seemed to have developed a
taste for it and started needling Harry with questions about Potions class. Not even the fact
that it was taught by Snape deterred her, although she turned up her nose at the thought.

She had tried some easy potions, even more low-level ones than what was taught at
Hogwarts. There were some to restore dry skin, wart-removers, a potion to change one’s hair,
and one to grow out your toenails, for some weird reason. Mostly, that was because she had
no way of knowing if she was doing things correctly because she had nobody to teach her.
Harry didn’t exactly think he was qualified, but he was the only thing they had.
Every evening was spent turning the kitchen counter into a potions lab. Petunia still had her
introduction to potions kit and had gotten more supplies and books from Diagon while he
was at Hogwarts, so they had everything they needed. Harry was still a bit apprehensive, but
Snape had said that a wand shouldn’t be necessary and McGonagall had said he could use his
in emergencies even with the trace. Stopping his aunt from blowing up the kitchen would
count… right?

His worries turned out to mostly be in vain because it all worked out fine. They brewed the
boil cure, a forgetfulness potion, a herbicide potion that Petunia swore she would use on the
slugs invading her garden every spring, a sleeping draught and Wiggenweld potion to reverse
the effects. Harry had brought his own little collection of brewed potions under a stasis charm
and they could compare the two to see how close they had gotten.

Sadly, they hadn’t gotten much further in class than that apart from a few salves, tinctures
and pastes that they mixed together as well, but they were soon faced with the decision
whether to continue without Harry having done the potion in the first place.

“Absolutely nothing with porcupine quills”, he told his aunt.

“Those explode if they get too hot, right?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely nothing with porcupine quills”, she agreed.

This is how they managed to brew a decent strengthening solution that took them multiple
days and was the most complicated thing to date - and they made the magical equivalent to
cough drops. Dudley scowled at the cough drops, but drank the strength potion before his
mother could stop him. That he spent the next twenty minutes bench-pressing the sofa - with
Harry on it - was an indication of 1. that the ministry really didn’t count potions as active
magic, 2. they had brewed it in such a way that it mostly did what it was supposed to, and 3.
that they had added the lemon grass too early because it was supposed to last at least thirty
minutes.

By that time it was almost Christmas and any additional potions had to be postponed until
after the holidays - or at least until the kitchen wasn’t taken over anymore by the Christmas
roast, enough side dishes to feed an army and enough desert that alone a glance at it would
send you into a sugar coma. They had also done some last-minute shopping in both London
and Diagon Alley and Harry had managed to send off all the Christmas gifts from the post
office.

On one of those trips, Dudley pulled his mother and cousin into a cinema, his reason being
“Harry, it’s about a magic castle, like your school. We have to!” And that was how they
ended up watching Beauty and the Beast while munching on popcorn.

Dudley liked fantasy films just as much as fantasy books, especially when he had realised
that his father had kept him from watching loads of them due to the magic shown in them. He
had worked his way through the local library’s VHS section, watching everything from
Cinderella to the Labyrinth or Highlander, putting his name down in time to borrow them
again over the Christmas holidays and re-watching them to show Harry his favourites.

Harry, who had realised that even memory-him had never seen or heard of most of them, took
to it with surprising fervour. Dudley also hatched the idea to go to the cinema with a few
friends some time, though over Christmas probably wasn’t going to work because everybody
spent it with their family.

Two days before Christmas, a package made its way to Privet Drive Number 4. It had an
unknown name as sender, and when they opened it, there was brand new boxing gear in there
- hand wraps, gloves, and even some new gym shoes, a mouth guard, some new shorts and
shirts... Dudley had wanted some new equipment for months now, but with expenses for his
school stuff and extra things both Evans’ got from Diagon to learn more about the magical
world, there wasn’t any money left for it. Dudley had decided the other things were more
important, though, and to keep his old equipment, if necessary until it was falling apart.

“Could it have been someone from your team?”, asked Harry and picked up one of the
gloves.

“Is that…” Dudley picked up a card with the picture of a man Harry thought looked familiar.
“An autograph of Carl Thompson?!”

Harry knew where he had seen him - and heard Dudley go on and on about what he called the
up and coming boxing champion. He was one of his cousin’s absolute favourites. When he
looked at Dudley, though, his face looked pained instead of ecstatic.

“…Dudley?”

“You know who this is from. There’s only one person we know who could afford this kind of
stuff. Apart from you, of course.”

He had actually wanted to get Dudley new boxing gear, but Petunia had put her foot down.
She had said a gift each was fine, but that just because he had money, that didn’t mean he
should spend it willy-nilly. He hadn’t quite agreed, but explaining where the sums were
coming from when she was his guardian and could see his account probably wasn’t the
smartest idea.

“Vernon”, said Petunia.

“Yes.”

Dudley let the autograph fall back into the box, then took the glove Harry held and put it in as
well.

“But that’s… Dudley, you don’t have to throw it away. You don’t have to feel bad about it.
Just because you take some of the stuff he sends, doesn’t mean you have to like him.”

“No, I know that. Well, logically, I know that. But I’d still think of him every time I use this
or look at the autograph and I don’t want that.”
“Dudley…” Harry put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

Dudley leaned into him a bit. “…we can sell it all. Get some more potion ingredients for
mum. Now that’s a good use of it; selling his gifts to buy magic stuff from it.”

“We’re going to use it for something that you want”, Petunia decided. “There was this new
book about magical creatures you liked?”

“Won’t you think of your dad every time you read it?”, Harry wondered.

“Yes. But I’ll think about how much he would hate it.”

Dudley grinned at him and Harry knew the crisis had been averted. For now at least.
However, it proved once more that Vernon still hadn’t given up.

It was the first Christmas morning that he was woken up by an excited Dudley jumping on
his bed.

“Harry, Harry, Harry, it’s Christmas!”, sang his cousin while making a decent impression of a
bouncing ball.

“It’s also 6AM, Dudley.”

“So?”

Harry just groaned, but decided pulling the blanket over his head would be a lost cause.
Dudley would just take more drastic measures to get him out of bed. A part of him he had
suppressed for years was also starting to thaw. This would be his first real Christmas. He had
gotten a taste of it during his birthday in the summer, but Christmas felt… different somehow.
And while Harry was trudging downstairs in his pyjamas, he found himself getting actually
excited about it all.

Petunia, knowing her son far too well, was just coming out of her room as well, also in sleep-
wear.

“Breakfast first, or presents first?”

The deafening scream of “Presents!!!” surprised neither Harry nor Petunia and both
exchanged a grin.

“Presents it is”, she said.

The Christmas tree was slightly smaller this year, mostly because they didn’t have Vernon’s
big company car anymore to transport it. They had picked it out together, but Petunia had
driven it home in an empty car, the tip of the tree peeking out of the open roof. Now,
decorated with tinsel and baubles and candles, it looked just as nice as any tree they had ever
had. The presents lying under it drew Dudley’s attention anyway.
And there was quite a large pile for Harry as well.

“Go on.”

Petunia shooed him off while Dudley started passing out gifts to all of them. His cousin got
some video tapes of films he really wanted, more books, some sports equipment, a gift card
for going to the pool together and some smaller things like toys and candy. He especially
loved Harry’s gift, though.

Harry had managed to send a letter to Olivander a few weeks ago to ask him about the sort of
stone that they used at Gringotts to test people for being squibs. He had told him what kind it
was - and then offered to get one for him, knowing exactly where Harry was going with it.

So, for the first time ever, Harry wasn’t the one who made the living room light up with
magic. As soon as Dudley touched the sphere that was as big as a tennis ball, it started
glowing from within. It fit perfectly into his hand, but had a clip at one end to put a rope
through, as well as a bag to keep it in.

“Wooow!”

“You can make your own light now. Especially because I’m not allowed to do magic
anymore. Though if you throw that at anything, it might do some more damage than the ones
I usually…”

Harry’s monologue was cut of when Dudley squeezed all the air out of his lungs with a hug.

“Thank you”, he whispered.

“You’re welcome. If I find any other stuff like that, I’ll be sure to send you some.” He
hesitated. “You might like some of the sweets too. Some can make you float for a minute or
turn your skin different colours and stuff like that.”

“Mum…!”

Petunia sighed. “We’ll take a look during our next trip to Diagon Alley.”

His aunt got one of Dudley’s crafts projects which turned out to be a painted wooden box to
keep her jewellery in, as well as another one with smaller compartment “to keep your potions
flasks in, mum!”. Harry had gotten her a handbag that had in-built expansion and light-
weight charms, so she could carry her shopping more easily. Especially if she continued with
the potions like she did, something to carry large amounts of ingredient seemed like a good
idea.

And Harry… he almost found himself tearing up at his gifts. Dudley had gotten him his own
edition of The Lord of the Rings so they could write letters back and forth about it, including
a slightly scrawly note in the front and signature to show who had gotten him the book.
Petunia had given him some magical hair-taming gel, which Harry appreciated, but doubted it
would work. He got some more robes as well, along with muggle jumpers.

There were also a lot of packages from his Hogwarts friends.

“I let the owls in. They arrived mostly last night and somehow knew to come to my window.”

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia.”

She nodded just once and then proceeded to hand him more of his gifts. He had gotten a book
on Yule traditions from Theo and decided he would read that first and maybe share it with his
relatives as well. Maybe they could even incorporate some traditions next year, now that they
all spent so much more time in the magical world.

Blaise had gotten him a book on ghosts, which Harry thought would probably be more useful
than first thought if it went along the same lines as the ghost interviews. It was almost
immediately proven true when he realised it also had a section on possession and how to
guard yourself against it, which was definitely helpful.

Susan got him a book on defence spells with a section highlighted that dealt with avoiding
and countering attacks in confined spaces, like, say, school corridors. She really didn’t have a
subtle bone in her body. Accompanying the gift was a letter that asked to meet him as well as
his aunt and maybe cousin for lunch in Diagon Alley - along with her own aunt. Apparently
she was taking the floo issue very seriously.

Hannah sent chocolate frogs - Harry was not surprised - as well as an assortment of fountain
pens and muggle writing supplies with a note that just said “to drive the Slytherins and
McGonagall crazy ;)” Neville had gotten him quidditch gloves, which was surprisingly
introspective.

Hagrid still sent him a wooden flute, which Dudley raised his eyebrows at, but Harry
clutched protectively to his chest. Fred and George managed to make him smile too by
sending him a bunch of sweets and potions that did everything from turning your hair green
to making you swell to twice your size. Dudley insisted on trying those out in the coming
days.

He himself thought he had done rather well on gifts too, but would only see the reactions
when he got back to school. Mehen already had his gift. It was a magical heating stone that
was hidden under his bed for now and would get the same placement in Hogwarts. It would
definitely counteract the cold in the dungeons a bit.

He wasn’t close to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, but seeing as they were sharing a room, he had
still made sure to get all of them a box of sweets and a nice quill. It seemed to have been the
right decision because Crabbe and Goyle had returned the gesture of sweets while Malfoy
had actually sent him some stationary with the Black family coat of arms on it. Harry thought
another talk might be in order and this one might even turn out to be decent.

“What’s that back there?”, Dudley asked suddenly.

There was one last package lying under the tree, towards the far back. It was wrapped in
shimmering paper and Harry’s stomach did a flip when he saw it. He didn’t even know
whether it was happiness or dread.

“It has your name on it, Harry.”

If there had been any doubt, the narrow, loopy letters of Dumbledore’s handwriting
confirmed it. Harry’s hands were still shaking as he opened it. A card fell out and it took him
three tries until he managed to pick it up.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it
well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.

Dudley had looked over his shoulder and mouthed the words as he read. “That doesn’t tell
you much, does it? What is it, though? Something of your dad’s?”

Harry opened the package further and the grey cloak with the silver sheen slid out. Harry
grasped it before it managed to hit the floor. It was lighter than he had thought or
remembered, like air woven into threads and flowing like water.

“That’s a weird cloak.” Dudley frowned at it. “Put it on! Maybe it looks better if you wear
it!”

Harry was always going to tell Dudley about this anyway - his cousin would love being able
to be invisible - so he slipped the cloak on. He knew it had worked when Dudley gasped. And
when he looked down, his whole body was gone. Petunia had dropped the wrapping paper
she had been in the process of cleaning up and was staring at him open-mouthed.

When Harry put the hood up as well and disappeared completely, Dudley whispered
“wicked”.

“I’m just not sure what I should do with it, exactly? Use it well… but how?”

“It’s an invisibility cloak! Of course you can use it for something! But who sent it to you?”

“That’s a very good question”, said Harry.

Even though he knew who had sent him the cloak, the why was still something he wanted to
figure out, but knew it was unlikely he would ever find out. At least he had gotten the cloak;
he had been quite worried about that. His last conversation with the headmaster had gone
well and maybe facing a troll may have made him think he was more Gryffindor than
Slytherin after all. That had played another role in his plan to lure Travers to the bathroom on
Halloween.

He had to admit he was glad to have it back. Even though he had never owned the cloak so
far, he remembered it, remembered carrying it with him all the time. And while it would have
been incredibly useful to have it during the first term when the whole castle had been against
him, he should still find some use for it.

“Here, you want to try it?”

He held out the cloak to Dudley, who immediately snatched it out of Harry’s hands and ran
into the hallway to stand in front of the mirror.

“Harry! I’m invisible!”

There was a scurrying and scuttling and the sound of footsteps that told Harry his cousin had
re-entered the living room - even though there was no visible sign of him. When the vase on
the side table started wobbling and Petunia had to catch it, she had enough.

“Dudley Evans, take that cloak off right now!”

A sheepish Dudley popped into being right next to the Christmas tree. “Sorry, mum.”

“No running around the house invisible if you can’t seem to see where you’re going!”

He nodded while Harry hid a grin. This was why he loved magic and this was why he loved
his family.

That made him pause for a moment. He loved his family. Like, actually, properly loved
Dudley and Petunia. It was such a novel concept that the continued exchange between his
relatives didn’t even register until Dudley looked at him questioningly and motioned to the
kitchen so they could get breakfast.

He got another hug from Dudley when he revealed that he had brought a wizarding
Christmas cracker for each of them - though he didn’t mention to Petunia that he had
specifically had to ask for ones that did definitely not include animals as surprises.

Dudley, of course, was ecstatic and even more so when the first one he pulled with Harry
went off with a bang. The colourful orange smoke only dissipated when Petunia opened a
window to let it out, though her annoyed expression softened a bit when her eyes landed on
Dudley’s excited one. There was a wizard’s hat in it that was stitched full of sparkling stars,
as well as a mini quidditch player figurine that zoomed around on a broom. He proceeded to
explode another cracker with Dudley, which gave them a fake wand that turned into a
bouquet of fake flowers when waved, as well as soap bubbles that lazily drifted across the
room for over an hour before the first one popped.

Dudley insisted on his mum pulling the last one with him. Petunia was showered with stars
and suddenly held a viking helmet that turned out to make tooting noises when you blew into
the horns. There was also a set of Exploding Snap cards which Petunia immediately forbade
them from playing inside the house. Maybe they’d clear some space in the garden shed.

Without Vernon, Marge and Ripper the holidays were cheerful and peaceful. Harry got to eat
a full table worth of Christmas food and didn’t have to watch his ankles around a yappy dog.
Dudley and he could talk about their new books and their old ones without fear of being
overheard by Vernon and shouted at. Any chores he still had took half as long because both
Petunia and Dudley did their fair share of them.

He was rarely left alone, however, so it was only in the days between Christmas and New
Years that Harry manage to get to Grimmauld Place at all. He even managed to do it without
having to memory-charm his relatives. Being heir Black and having access to Kreacher
helped immensely. So, one night, after he had made sure that neither Dudley nor Petunia
would wake up any time soon, he pulled out some wizarding clothes as to not disturb Aunt
Walburga too much, got a coat from downstairs and then snuck out the back door while
wearing his invisibility cloak just in case any of the neighbours were watching. When he was
far enough away that he thought the wards shouldn’t pick it up, he called Kreacher and had
him pop him to London.

Travelling by house elf was still a strange feeling. It was very different to apparition and took
a toll on the elf in question. But the ministry really had no way of tracking it and as long as
Harry didn’t use his wand or had Kreacher do magic in his home, the trace didn’t seem to be
an issue.

If Number Four was home and written in his blood, Grimmauld place was home and written
in his soul. The moment he touched the front door, the Black family magic twisted around
him in greeting, lingering on his heir ring and wrapping him in a warm embrace. Harry
breathed in and smiled.

The door opened of its own accord, whether because of the magic or because of Kreacher,
and Harry stepped through into the corridor that would look intimidating to everyone else,
but made him smile all the same. Thinking about having to tell his great aunt about the troll,
though… That was not a nice thought.

The portrait was sleeping when he finally stood in front of it. He probably should have
expected it. It was about 2AM, after all.

Harry decided to knock softly on the frame and whisper “Aunt Walburga?”

The woman gave a start, but luckily didn’t start screaming immediately. It may have helped
that Kreacher was by now standing next to him with a candelabra that illuminated his face.

“Harry! Is it Christmas already?”

“Just after.” He smiled at her. “It’s good to see you again, Aunt Walburga.”

“I also appreciate you dropping by. Now. Your letters were getting a bit vague in October -
don’t think I didn’t notice! What has been going on?”

Harry suddenly had to fight a blush. “There were a few issues with the Slytherins. A trio of
them was trying to get me.”

“Get you as in…?”

“Pretty much kill or seriously injure me, yes. What they called pranks didn’t deserve that
name anymore in the end.”

“How dare they attack the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black! You taught
them a lesson, I hope?”

“Well… I turned one of their pranks against them and sicked Snape on them. The two
henchmen, Rosier and Jugson, were scared off by that and it got my dorm mates in line too.”

“Good. Rosier and Jugson, you say?”

“Yes, their fathers were death eaters who were killed or imprisoned at the end of the last war.
Rosier is the Rosier heir too, I think.”

“Who was the ringleader?”

“Tristan Travers. He’s going to be Lord Travers as soon as he finishes Hogwarts.”

Walburga pursed her lips. “Let me guess - he made it very clear that associating with you was
social suicide?”

“Yep.”

“That’s “Yes, Aunt Walburga”. Just because you’ve been off at boarding school, that doesn’t
excuse dropping your standards.”

“Of course, Aunt Walburga.”

“What did you do? It doesn’t sound like I’m going to like it.”

Harry found himself desperately trying not to fidget. Even Kreacher looked reluctant; at least
the elf had honoured his request not to tell his mistress about their escapades yet. “Well… He
did stop going after me and my friends. And his standing has taken a nose-dive.”

“Harry James Evans-Potter, what have you done?”

“I… kinda sicked a troll on him.”

There were a few seconds of silence while Walburga, very unladylike, gaped at him. She
closed her mouth and took a few more seconds to collect herself.

“Explain.”

“I found out that Professor Quirrel - who, by the way, has the Dark lord sticking out the back
of his head - would let in a troll on Halloween, so I made sure Travers followed me and we
both got cornered by the troll.”

Walburga opened her mouth, but Harry decided this was one of the moments were
interrupting her would result in less screaming than letting her rant for a bit.

“I did take precautions! Kreacher and I spelled one of the doors in the bathroom to take heavy
spell damage, and Kreacher was standing by to pop me away in case anything went wrong.
And I did get a life debt from Travers out of it.”

Aunt Walburga took a deep breath, then stared at him, her mouth pinched. “That was very
reckless of you.”

“Yes, Aunt Walburga.”

“The fact that it worked is not an excuse for the fact that it could have killed you.”
“I understand, Aunt Walburga.”

“But.” Harry’s head snapped up at the softer tone. “I can’t help but be proud of the ingenuity,
no matter how misplaced it may have been. A life debt, you say?”

“Yes, Aunt Walburga. Acknowledged by magic, no less. I confronted him in front of the
whole common room. That’s also when I revealed I’m Heir Black.”

There was a twitching at the corners of her mouth and a dark glittering in her eyes. And
suddenly Walburga Black broke into pearling laughter.

“Merlin, if only I could have seen their faces! I have to say, you don’t do things by half, do
you?”

“Definitely not, Aunt Walburga”, he grinned.

“Don’t think I missed the “Dark Lord sticking out of a teacher’s head” comment either. And
who are your friends? I hope you haven’t just battled trolls, but made some decent allies as
well?”

And so Harry found himself explaining the Dark Lord thing - which was kind of complicated
because he didn’t understand the process either, but it turned out Walburga knew some stuff
about possession. Apparently some ghosts could do short-term possession of animals, but
magical animals usually had an inbuilt barrier against such a thing. With non-magical people
it depended on their will power, while magical people usually had to invite in the spirit
latching onto them.

That just raised more questions about the Quirrelmort situation, honestly, as Harry couldn’t
think of a single reason why anyone would voluntarily let Voldemort possess them.

At least she approved of Blaise Zabini as a friend because the Zabinis were a strong neutral
family. She told him to be careful about Theodore Nott because of his father’s and
grandfather’s servitude to the Dark Lord, but that was nothing Harry hadn’t already thought
about. She thought it was a shame about Draco Malfoy, but figured he would get over his hurt
pride eventually - the writing stationary was deemed a very good sign indeed.

She pursed her lips at the name Neville Longbottom, but had to admit that the Longbottom
family was very well connected and a staple of the light side - which could help further his
political agenda. Having already made contact with Augusta Longbottom who was regent in
her son’s place for now, also counted as a plus in her mind. Hannah Abbot got a pass for the
same reason because while she was a Hufflepuff, her family name was strong and even
Walburga had to admit that gaining a Hufflepuff’s loyalty was forever and that was rarely a
bad thing. Susan Bones may not have the title, but her aunt having an influential position at
the ministry seemed to balance it out, in his great-aunt’s mind.

Who only got pursed lips was his mention of the Weasley twins. Walburga’s opinion on the
Weasley family was better left unsaid, and not even Harry mentioning their incredibly
ingenuity seemed to change her mind. She didn’t tell him to stop being friends with them,
though - maybe because she knew he wouldn’t listen anyway.
Overall, she mostly forgot about the troll thing. Mostly. Because she still made sure to make
him promise to be less reckless in the future - after all, he was the last possible heir to the
Black name and she sure didn’t want it to go to Draco Malfoy, especially after hearing how
he had let himself be influenced by Travers instead of seeing what was right in front of his
eyes.

When Harry told her about Silex and the other stone snakes, it startled another laugh out of
her.

“Oh! That is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant! They won’t know what hit them.”

“That’s the idea, yes.”

“Can the snakes spy on anyone?”

Harry shrugged. “Pretty much. But right now I asked them to only tell me things that concern
me, especially because they’re supposed to protect all students of Slytherin. Besides… I feel
bad about invading everybody’s privacy too much.”

Walburga pursed her looks and levelled him with a disapproving glare. “Use every advantage
you can get!”, she barked.

Harry stayed silent this time and she just sighed. “You’ll change your mind once the girls
start plotting too.”

“Plotting? What?”

She grinned. “Why, who’s going to marry you, of course!”

That left Harry sputtering and her laughing again. Some other portraits from upstairs had
apparently woken up and started shouting for her to quiet down. There was a lot of screaming
for a few minutes, enough, at least, for Harry to regain his equilibrium.

“Let’s not talk about that for now.”

Walburga smirked. “For two years or so, I’d say.”

Harry took a deep breath again. “Yes, Aunt Walburga.”

He decided not to point out that Tom Riddle may as well have used the stone snakes himself
when he was attending Hogwarts - overlapping with Walburga’s time there, if he wasn’t very
much mistaken. He still had to interrogate on anything and everything she could remember
about him, but he’d had more pressing matters so far.

“How about your occlumency?”

“That saved my life. Snape, Dumbledore and Voldemort all tried to look at my mind, some of
them multiple times. I think I managed to at least show them only things I wanted them to
see. True things. But kept others hidden. But blocking them completely…”
“You shouldn’t do that as long as you’re not sure you can keep them out long enough to
escape. Better to leave them thinking they have the upper hand.”

“That’s what I figured.”

They brain-stormed some more and Walburga implored him to stay away from the Dark Lord
as much as possible. He would still see Quirrel in DADA, of course, but there would be no
nightly excursions or attempts to steal the Philosopher’s Stone - which he had also told her
about and she had just scoffed at.

“Whatever strange game Dumbledore is playing and setting up the playing field for - it will
be more difficult for him to get to you if you stay as far away from it as possible”, was her
comment on the whole stone situation. “And eternal life isn’t everything anyway.”

Harry tried to bring up the argument about the Slytherin title, and having to defeat Voldemort
in body, mind, and soul. He argued that he had already defeated him in body, the spirit
possessing Quirrel might be mind and destroying a horcrux would count as soul, but
ultimately, Walburga shot that idea down as well.

“You are eleven. And while you are powerful and I agree that you will turn the wizarding
world upside down when you grow up… I repeat, you are eleven. And to change the world
you first have to live to adulthood. So no running off after dark lords. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Aunt Walburga.”

He couldn’t really argue against that and found himself wondering why he still had the urge
to do so. At least they both got distracted by Harry telling Walburga about Petunia trying her
hands at potions, and Walburga continuing by giving advice for a beginner potioneer - and
offering some still usable ingredients and materials from her personal potions lab to both him
and his aunt, which found Harry feeling oddly touched.

The highlight of the night was definitely Harry giving Kreacher his belated Christmas gift - a
magical radio, so he could sing along while cleaning - and also so he heard some more voices
than just Harry’s and Walburga’s even if they couldn’t talk back to him. Harry was again
faced with a snottily crying house elf that seemed unsure whether to hug him or just collapse
onto the floor. The result was Kreacher trying to stay upright by clinging to his leg.

When he informed her that he had a sort of gift for her but hadn’t been able to implement it,
Walburga seemed pleased that he had even thought of her at all - and quite curious what he
could possibly gift a painting.

By the time their conversation drew to a close, Harry could feel his eyes closing of their own
accord every other minute and had settled on the chair next to the small commode opposite
Walburga’s portrait. Kreacher had even offered to bring him a coffee, but Harry had every
intention of getting at least a little bit of sleep tonight.

“Go to bed”, Walburga finally said. “Kreacher can bring you back here when needed.”

“Yes, Aunt Walburga. It was a pleasure seeing you again. Four months is way too long.”
 Her face softened again, which made her look surprisingly beautiful in the candlelight. “Yes,
it is. But you know you can always come here as long as you are able and can send Kreacher
for important questions.”

“Thank you, Aunt Walburga.”

They left the house, so Kreacher didn’t have to pop him through the wards any more than
necessary and Harry retraced his footsteps until he finally fell into bed. The warm feeling in
his chest remained even until the next morning.

Chapter End Notes

So, who wants a Christmas chapter in the middle of May?

Edit: I think my neighbours know. They just played Christmas music. 😳
 Raising Hell
Chapter Summary

It's time someone shakes up the wizarding world. And if nobody else is prepared to do
it, Harry might as well. Stage One.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Getting to Gringotts turned out to be far easier than he had thought. His account manager had
managed to get Petunia involved in more lawyer stuff - Harry had given his own input in who
they should go with a few weeks ago - and Petunia and Dudley were led into an extra room
while Harry stayed to discuss account matters “just for a short moment, Ms Evans. It won’t
take long”.

“Hello, Sharpclaw.”

“Mr Evans-Potter. Or do you prefer Heir Black by now?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t particularly care. You can call me Harry too, if you wish.”

“Mr Evans-Potter, then. You sent me a letter, asking to deposit the first big sum in your
personal account?”, said Sharpclaw, long fingers folded in front of him as if to stop himself
leaning forward in curiosity.

“Yes. I’ve dealt with something like a… you could call it a house clearance. There were quite
a few things that could be salvaged and sold.”

“I do hope you didn’t clear out any Black properties? Because then I would have to remind
you that while Sirius Black is still Lord Black, albeit imprisoned…”

“No, nothing like that. You could also call it a giant “lost and found” room. Either way -
Kreacher!”

The elf popped in, deposited a large trunk in the office, bowed and disappeared again. On top
of it was a rolled-up piece of parchment and when Harry took a look at it, it turned out to be a
complete inventory of all sold items and the price they had fetched. The elf was nothing if not
thorough. When Harry handed the list off to the goblin and Sharpclaw spied the number at
the bottom, he swallowed.

“That is quite the sum.”

“Yes, of course. It had to be worth the trouble, after all.”

And they were still not done with the room even now. If he had to guess, Harry would say
there was at least two thirds of the stuff left, plus the things he would have to find the time to
repair. They left a lot of the broken things as well, and things that were just not feasible to
sell. But Kreacher made sure that any cursed or dangerous item was disposed of - it was still
a school, after all, even if everyone else seemed to regularly forget that fact.

“I will deposit the trunk in your personal vault and add the list to your account ledger.”

“Thank you. There is also the matter of a few items I have come across during said… house
clearance.”

Another trunk popped into existence, this one smaller. Harry wasn’t even sure there were
extension charms on it, and not only because it might interfere with the magical properties of
the items it contained. Harry motioned for Sharpclaw to open it while he stayed seated and
tried to hide his grin when his account manager sucked in a sharp breath.

“Those are…”

“Goblin-made items, yes. There weren’t many, but still more than I expected.”

The goblin picked up an intricately-crafted brooch of two vines twining themselves around a
bright green emerald. Harry had been very tempted to keep that particular one, but had
resisted.

Sharpclaw straightened up and mustered him with a look that sent a shiver of foreboding
through him. “What exactly are your expectations here?”, he asked.

“None. I know enough about goblin customs to know that, in your culture, these belong to
the person who crafted them or their family. As such, I see it as my duty to return them to
you.”

“Free of charge?”

Harry grinned. “If there’s something like a finder’s fee, I won’t say no. But in general - I am
not selling these. I am giving them back.”

Sharpclaw threw another glance at the glittering contents, then looked back at Harry. “You
know that these are probably worth as much as the contents of the entire first trunk?”

“Yes.” Probably more, actually.

“And you won’t change your mind?”

Harry shook his head. “No.” He thought that the goodwill of the goblin nation was worth
multiple trunks. This was a price he would pay.

“Then I give my thanks as an official representative of the Goblin Nation. Know that your
generosity will be remembered.” The goblin crossed his arms over his chest and bowed deep.
With a flick of his finger, the chest vanished, probably to be sorted through properly later. “A
reward for the safe return of numerous goblin-made artefacts will be deposited in your
personal account shortly.”

Harry bowed back to Sharpclaw, then shifted on his seat. “Alright, on to the next matter. Did
anything come of the inheritance research I asked to be done?”

It may be a swift change of topic, but Harry had found that goblins were very much a no-
nonsense people and preferred not to dwell on matters they deemed closed.

“Ah, yes. I was going to bring it up, but didn’t want to put it in a letter. There were, indeed,
some things willed to you. Most of them were monetary gifts, which were added to your
personal account. There were some items as well that have also been deposited in your
personal vault; if you read through the vault statement I’ve provided, you can see what has
been added. There is also a list of the people who mentioned you in their wills.”

On one hand, Harry felt a little bad about it all. These were probably people who wanted to
thank him for his defeat of the Dark Lord and Harry felt he had done very little. Then again,
he had lost both of his parents and if this was the only compensation he got… Nothing would
ever be enough anyway. Besides, he’d probably use it all to further his plans and get rid of
Voldemort for good, so nobody should be able to complain.

Looking at the number at the bottom of the page had Harry feel better about his plans either
way. While he trusted Petunia, to a degree, having money he could spend without supervision
was a relief.

“Now that this is sorted, is there anything else that needs your personal attention?”

“Could I, as heir Black, bring my squib relatives to Grimmauld Place without repercussions,
or do I need the permission of the current lord for that?”

The goblin tapped his fingers on the table while he thought about that. “It should be fine, but
with a family like the Blacks, I may have to look into it more.”

Harry nodded, but silently thought it should indeed be fine. Walburga had said the same and
having it confirmed by two sources was good enough for him. It was good to know, just in
case, that they had a semi-safe house to hole up in should anything happen. There was a
strange feeling in his gut that told him they would need it.

“I’m also giving you permission to invest half the money from my personal vault. I’ve made
a list of some muggle firms and a few magical ones I want you to put money towards, but
please handle the rest as you see fit.”

Sharpclaw grinned at him. “Now that is very good news indeed.”

“I figured you might think so. I’ll need to join the meeting with the lawyer now, though.
There are some more things that have come up.”

Sharpclaw nodded, then led him to a private room. His aunt was deep in conversation with an
aristocratic-looking man in a pin-stripe suit while his cousin was sitting off to the side,
reading the second Lord of the Rings novel. It took him a while to get through those, but
Dudley seemed to think they were worth the effort so far.

“Harry!” Petunia looked up. “We were just discussing what to do about anyone using your
name to promote their products.”

“Where are you at right now?”

His aunt shuffled over and motioned towards one of the other chairs, which Harry hopped
onto. She had made it clear that she would completely take over this matter if he wanted her
to, but that he could have as much input as he liked. Harry, having some very specific ideas,
had taken her up on the latter offer. The lawyer was looking a bit confused by the eleven-
year-old whose legs were dangling off the chair, but he adopted a more professional
expression soon enough.

“We were just discussing the wording. It has to leave no loopholes, after all. It would be
easier if you had decided to completely forbid the use of your name, but retroactively giving
permission if certain rules are followed needs a light hand”, explained the lawyer. “Graham
Lloyd, by the way. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr Evans-Potter.”

Harry had to push himself up the chair a bit to reach the other man’s hand, but managed to
give it a good shake. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Both Blaise and Susan had recommended him highly, and Petunia had been won over by the
fact that the man was a squib. He had originally been left in the muggle world from the age of
eleven with some trust money to pay for a muggle education, but all ties to the wizarding
world cut. Mr Lloyd had not taken that lying down. He had aced his A levels and then gotten
a law degree with honours, only to re-enter the magical world of his own accord. And while
he was working as a lawyer in the muggle world, he had educated himself about the magical
legal system as well.

It had taken him two more decades to build a law firm up from the ground, but Mr Lloyd was
now the owner of a very prestigious one. They mostly dealt with muggle issues and Petunia
had heard about him from some newspaper articles, apparently - but for some clients, Mr
Lloyd took a personal interest. Namely, wizard clients, and not just high profile ones.

He had apparently been intrigued and then outraged when he had learned what had happened
to Harry and how thoroughly he had been abandoned. Harry privately thought the man was
reminded of his own history and would use it to his advantage.

“As I understand it, you want to give permission retroactively if they use your new name,
“Evans-Potter”, as well as following some general rules about the morality of what they
advertise. And then and only then will they be allowed to continue.”

“Yes. And I want back pay for all the years they used my name without permission, of
course. They can pay in instalments, but they will have to pay.”

Mr Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. If he had expected Harry to be intimidated by all the big words…
he’d learn. “That seems reasonable to me, as does the idea of having a specific account tied to
any transactions in this matter.”

“It seems logical to keep that separate from my family vaults. It’ll probably anger quite a few
people, after all and I want to be able to show bank statements without compromising my
personal vaults, if necessary.”

Mr Lloyd smirked. “Quite. This could ruin lives.”

Harry just shrugged. “They shouldn’t have exploited a defenceless child then, right?”

“Indeed, Mr Evans-Potter.”

“There is also the issue of the mail ward.”

“Ah, yes.” Mr Lloyd opened another folder and turned some pages. “You believe that Albus
Dumbledore is the person who arranged that?”

“Yes. I asked him, personally, whether he knew who had done it and could remove it. He said
he would look into it.”

“And?”

Harry shrugged. “So far, I haven’t noticed any change. So he probably didn’t deem it
important enough. He may have been distracted by the troll incident, though.”

“That.” Mr Lloyd opened a third folder. “Your aunt mentioned it. And she’s thinking about
suing the school for damages.”

Harry felt his eyebrows rise along with a bubbling glee in his chest. “Really? I mean… it was
a dangerous situation and all…”

“A troll got into a school full of children, Mr Evans-Potter. That is not only dangerous, but
untenable and has to have consequences.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who thinks so. It might help to contact Madam Longbottom
and the Travers family. Those two students were also involved and had some severe injuries
from the incident.”

Mr Lloyd looked pensive and made some more notes in the folder. “I will approach them in
this matter.”

“Would it help if we went to the news with this?”, Harry asked.

The lawyer paused and looked at him over the brim of his glasses. “Are you sure you would
want it to be this public? It may have repercussions and push you into the limelight.”

“The public deserves to know what happened. After all, there’s a lot of children in that school
who could have been hurt. And I have a feeling I’ll end up in the limelight either way. Might
as well be for something useful.”
Petunia had mostly sat at the side, watching the exchange. She had nodded a few times in
agreement, raised her eyebrows at some other information, but now she leaned forward.

“I would want to know”, she said. “Even if you hadn’t been involved, I would want to know
and also know that measures are taken to prevent anything like this happening in the future.”

“Very well, then. The most widely published newspaper is the Daily Prophet. I could make
some inquiries and have a meeting with a reporter set up.”

“Thank you, we appreciate it”, said Petunia.

“Now. The mail ward”, reminded Harry him.

In the end, they settled on waiting for a few weeks and if Harry didn’t start getting his mail,
as tested by Mr Lloyd instructing a random person to send him a letter and seeing whether he
got it - he wasn’t quite sure how the ward decided which letters to let through, but he trusted
his lawyer on this - there would be the equivalent of a cease and desist letter sent to Albus
Dumbledore. Harry had a feeling the man would drag this out for a while and found himself
hoping he was back at Hogwarts and could see the man’s face when he got his morning mail.

Then there was another matter, although Petunia seemed reluctant to bring it up and Harry
had the honours.

“What if, say, a person was trying to open their fireplace to a floo connection and was
continuously rebuffed by the ministry?”, he asked.

Mr Lloyd pursed his lips while glancing at Petunia whose cheeks had turned bright red.
Whether in anger or embarrassment…

“I am guessing this is something that happened to you, Ms Evans?”

“Yes. It’s getting annoying. No matter who I write to, they won’t help. I even tried walking
into the ministry, but they wouldn’t let me past the front desk without a wand.”

She pursed her lips while Harry felt his anger rise. “I talked to my friend, Susan, too. She
says she has set up a meeting with her aunt. Amelia Bones?”

Mr Lloyd almost dropped the new folder he had just started. “Madam Bones? You have a
private meeting with Madam Bones?”

“Yes, she’s the aunt of one of my best friends. I think it’s mostly a meeting to get to know
each other’s families - Hannah Abbot is invited as well - but the floo thing will probably
come up.”

“I think that might be even more effective than anything I can do.” The man suddenly had a
very shark-like grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you flooed back to Platform 9 3/4 after the
Christmas holidays.”

Harry had a feeling he had the right of the situation. And then he had a sudden thought and
had a grin very similar to his lawyer.
“And if that doesn’t help… well… we do have an interview with a reporter. And it would be
such a shame if the public found out that the boy-who-lived doesn’t even have a floo
connection.” He shook his head mockingly. “What is the world coming to.”

Mr Lloyd grinned. “You both seem to know exactly what you’re doing. How very refreshing.
Ms Evans, Mr Evans-Potter, I look forward to working with you.”

Petunia looked slightly disturbed by this development, but even the lawyer seemed fine with
it, so she seemed to file it under the stuff that didn’t need to worry her.

At least someone was on his side now, someone who seemed to be competent. That was a
novelty in the wizarding world as far as Harry was concerned and he couldn’t wait to find out
what that would change.

Harry got Petunia and Dudley to take a walk through muggle London after their trip to
Gringotts - only after dropping by the Honeyduke’s shop in Diagon Alley and getting their
fill of weird candies, of course.

He was sorely tempted to come clean and take them both to Grimmauld Place. His aunt and
cousin had proven by now that they were completely on his side - but something in him
refused to share this with them yet. He wanted to, someday. But for now, having a safe place
he could go to that only he or Kreacher could reach felt like having a sanctuary.

So, instead, they went shopping. There were a few nice post Christmas sales that Petunia had
her eyes on, they stopped by a book store and Dudley leafed through the fantasy section, and
then Harry got to choose. He decided to follow Walburga’s advice even now and had them
stop by an antiques shop that was squeezed in between two timber framing houses in a
narrow alley.

A tiny bell rang when they stepped through the door while Petunia turned her nose up at the
dusty interior and tucked her coat in closer to keep it from brushing against any of the items.
Dudley ran off immediately to gawk at some guns hanging high up on the wall. Harry started
browsing the trinkets in display cases and trying to figure out why it felt like something was
crawling on his skin - other than Mehen, of course, who was wrapped around his arm as
usual.

Something about the shop had drawn him in and he realised what it had been the second he
laid eyes on the owner.

The man had stepped out of a section in the back hidden by a curtain. It was like he stepped
right out of the darkness behind it, the shadows parting for him like the sea. And maybe he
had. Harry wasn’t sure; he had never met a vampire.

He wasn’t sure how he knew either. He had learned about vampires, of course, and Quirrell
was talking about them incessantly as well, whether because he had actually had a run-in
with them, or because he used it as a cover for his stark personality shift, he wasn’t sure.
Harry tilted his head. The man tilted his.

“Er, hi?”, said Harry.

The vampire smiled, showing teeth that were just a bit sharper than human teeth would be.
His skin was just a bit paler than seemed healthy and he looked gaunt, as if he hadn’t gotten
enough sleep for a few days.

“Welcome to my shop. Are you looking for anything specific?”

Harry shrugged. “I like browsing antiques stores to see if I find any… unusual items. You can
find very interesting things sometimes.”

“I see. What about them?” The man jerked his head towards Dudley, who was still entranced
by the weapons wall, and Petunia, who was watching their exchange with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, they’re my family. And they know.”

“Perfect. I have a few magical items, though nothing dark or dangerous, of course.”

“That’s fine. Like I said, I’m just looking for trinkets. Material that I can enchant or direct
magic through is also interesting.”

“I’m missing something here”, his aunt interrupted. “Why does he know about magic?”

Harry thought it would be rude to reveal someone else’s identity, so he left that up to the man.
He bowed to her and smiled, showing off his fangs again.

“I’m a vampire, Ma’am. Being a magical creature means I am intimately familiar with the
magical world.”

“Oh.”

She was a bit pale, but took the news better than Harry thought she would. Dudley had also
heard the word “vampire” and immediately appeared right next to them.

“A vampire? That is so cool!” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr…?”

The vampire looked slightly taken aback, but shook Dudley’s hand either way. “My name is
Mr Adams.”

“Like the Adams family? That’s even cooler!”

“…thanks...”

Harry muffled a snicker in his collar. Most magical beings seemed taken aback by his
cousin’s uncensored enthusiasm and it never got old.

“I’ve read a lot about vampires, but I’ve never met one. Is it true that you can’t step into
sunlight and can’t touch garlic?”
“Don’t you believe your books?”, asked Mr Adams.

Dudley scoffed. “Most of the people who wrote them weren’t vampires, were they?”

“…no, they weren’t.”

“Then why should I believe them when I can ask you?”

“That opinion is shared by very few people, Mr…?”

“Oh, I’m Dudley Evans. And mostly people are pretty stupid then.”

Harry had to agree with that. Especially in the magical world, common sense seemed to be a
rare commodity. The way that nobody was challenging the status quo was especially
annoying to him.

While Dudley interrogated the stunned vampire, Harry continued browsing the shop. The
underlying magical vibes the man was giving off were hampering him trying to sniff out
other things, but he managed to push it to the back of his mind - occlumency was sure turning
out useful - and still find a few pieces that were calling to him. One was a walking stick made
of a gnarly, twisted piece of wood that seemed to hum slightly in his hands. There was a plain
silver necklace that tingled when it touched his skin, but seemed to have no magic of its own;
maybe he could exchange the leather band his crystal was on for this one.

He jumped a bit when Mr Adams suddenly appeared behind him, mustering the items he had
picked out.

“An interesting selection”, said the man.

“I told you. I like interesting things.”

“Is that why you like Dudley too?”

Harry laughed and turned around to see his cousin animatedly talking with his aunt. “He is a
very interesting person in his own right.”

When Harry had tried to teach him the lesson that bullying hurt people and open-mindedness
was a more appreciated trait, he’d never thought bombarding his cousin with this knowledge
would lead to him applying it not just to humans, but magical creatures as well. It was an
unexpected, but nice, side effect.

“That’s one way of putting it”, the man muttered. “I’ve got a few other things that may
interest you”, he finally said. “If you come up to the counter, I can show you a few.”

There were more gem stones, pieces of glass, shells, bones, feathers, wood… it mostly
seemed to be natural materials and Harry instinctively knew that these were all things that
could be turned into wand cores or pieces of a wand in general. It was probably not exactly
what Walburga had sent him to find, but Harry was glad he had found them anyway. And
maybe Ollivander would help him make sense of why some of them called more to him than
others.
There were also some slightly magical items that the vampire got from the backroom - “I
don’t want muggles to get a hold of these; the ministry is watching closely as is”.

Dudley was entranced by the pen that had its ink change colour every few words. There was
also a tiny jewellery box that was locked for every person but one that Petunia was fascinated
by.

Harry didn’t find anything that interested him as much as the raw materials, but he bought the
two items for his relatives anyway as more belated Christmas gifts.

“Or Yule ones”, he said when they were still protesting. “We haven’t done anything for Yule
this year, so I might as well do this.”

Dudley was dragging his feet, though, and kept running off to look at more random things. It
took Harry a while, but then he sighed.

“Mr Adams? Could Dudley ask you more questions? I think he’s still curious.”

The vampire hid a smile, but motioned them towards his backroom anyway. “I have tea and
biscuits and time. Not many people come through here, so I doubt there will be more
customers today anyway.

If Petunia was apprehensive about the whole thing, she didn’t show it - probably for Dudley’s
sake who had turned into a bouncy ball again and dashed towards the curtain. If there had
been any anxiety left, it was probably erased by the completely normal-looking tiny kitchen
with an old table that had seen better days. And although everything was slightly run-down, it
was a tidy, clean and absolutely normal flat.

And so they spent a whole afternoon interviewing a vampire. Mr Adams turned out to be a
muggle who had been bitten and turned in his early twenties and had spent the better part of
the last century trying to cause as little fuss as possible.

Dudley’s curiosity soon turned into indignation when he heard about how vampires were
mostly shunned in the magical world and heavily monitored. Even though the Guidelines for
the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans forbade the outright killing of vampires, usually
the justice system had both their eyes closed if someone ended up doing it anyway. The
reason of “self defence” was hard to disprove, after all.

And vampires were dangerous, Mr Adams admitted. He was stronger than before, faster,
could see very well in the dark and had the urge to drink human blood. Though, he said, the
thought of drinking from a living human repulsed him not only because of the mess, but
because he would be reminded of his own involuntary brush with death that had been at the
same time more and less permanent than he had thought it would be.

There were others, of course, and the dark underbelly of the wizarding world could be a
dangerous place full of vampires or werewolves, who had given up on ever fitting into
society and given in to their darker urges. That nobody would ever think of hiring a vampire
probably didn’t help. At least he knew how to blend in with muggles and was able to run his
little antiques shop.
What they would do when the muggles came up with even better technology that made it
impossible for someone who didn’t seem to age to fly under the radar, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, the whole afternoon turned out fascinating and Harry left with a belly full of
biscuits and tea and another point added to his agenda.

Their meeting with the press turned out to be easily arranged, though that may have been
because Mr Lloyd had mentioned the name Harry Evans-Potter. However, when they were
told who was interviewing them, Harry had to hold back a sigh. Of course Rita Skeeter
wouldn’t pass up this opportunity.

This required a slightly different approach, then.

The evening before their interview was scheduled, Harry took his aunt to the side to tell her
just what kind of person they were meeting with the next day. At first she wanted to cancel
the whole thing, but Harry talked her around, although she insisted Dudley not be present.

So, when they entered the little muggle café near the Leaky Cauldron that they had settled on
and laid eyes on the form of the reporter, they had a plan.

She already had her blond, curly hair, trade-mark bejewelled glasses and bright red lips that
turned into a winning but slightly predatory smile as soon as she laid eyes on Harry.

“Rita Skeeter, correspondent for the Daily Prophet. This is my photographer, who will take
some pictures after the interview if you’re amenable. It is so nice to meet you, Mr Potter!”

“Alright, we’re turning around”, he said. “Aunt Petunia?”

His aunt was looking at the reporter like the woman was a bug she had found on the sole of
her shoe. “Yes, Harry. Quite.”

Rita’s smile slipped off her face when she watched Harry march right back out of the
entrance. “Excuse me? Why… Mr Potter?”

He stopped just shy of the door. “My name is Harry Evans-Potter. If you can’t even bother to
get that right, why should I trust you? We’ll just ask for a different reporter. Or maybe go to
the Quibbler. I think they might even appreciate this story. All full of conspiracy and whatnot.
What do you think, Aunt Petunia?”

“Let’s go”, said his aunt and held open the door for him.

“Mr… Mr Evans-Potter?”

He paused again and turned around to face her, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, Ms Skeeter?”

“I apologise if we got off on the wrong foot. Of course we will use your correct name.”

Harry didn’t comment and instead let his aunt take up the argument, like they had discussed.
“And why should I trust you with the privacy and matters of my nephew? I’ve read your
articles, Ms Skeeter. And it doesn’t help that the first time I read the prophet it talked about
how Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin. We are currently in conference with a
lawyer and the only reason we haven’t written a cease and desist letter is because other
students’ names were mentioned as well and the wrong name may be due to faulty sources.
But we will not - and I repeat - not ever allow a sensationalised falsehood about my nephew
to be printed in the Prophet with our permission.”

The reporter swallowed once, twice, then adjusted her sparkling glasses. “Very well, Ms
Evans. You have made your standpoint quite clear.”

“I sure hope so.”

The two women stared at each other some more while the photographer seemed to want to
meld into the background. Harry himself found the whole situation amusing more than
anything else. When Skeeter sighed and shuffled her papers around on the table some more,
he knew they had won. His aunt seemed to agree because she decided to deliver the death
blow.

“We have a contract here that you will have to sign if you want to interview Harry. We can go
over it if you like, but it mostly states that you will use his correct name, only quote what was
actually said and do not take these quotes out of context, that you will stay true to the story
without embellishments, and that the permission to interview Harry is for one interview, and
one interview only. We also hold the right to read the article before it is printed and make
adjustments if necessary. I trust making said adjustments won’t be necessary, Ms Skeeter?”

The woman swallowed again. “I’m sure it won’t, Ms Evans.”

“Oh, and you won’t be needing that Quick-Quotes Quill, Ms Skeeter. A dicta quill will do
nicely.”

By now the reporter looked as if she had bitten into a lemon and was desperately trying to
pretend it had been an orange. “Of course”, she snapped.

The acid-green quill disappeared into her crocodile leather bag, however, and a much more
muted brown one was soon lying on the table.

“If we could also trouble you for a notice-me-not-charm before we continue? I am a squib
and Harry cannot use magic outside of Hogwarts, you see.”

“But of course!” Skeeter waved her wand and Harry saw some of the other customers, who
had been starting to stare at the brightly clothed woman and the disturbance in the making,
turn back to their coffees and croissants. “Good. Let’s see that contract, then.”

She at least took her time to read through it, probably aware how much more difficult the
wrong words could make your life. Skeeter tried to argue some points, but Aunt Petunia held
fast to them while Harry had trouble keeping the smirk off his face. This was turning out to
be a more entertaining morning than he had hoped.
At last, the dicta quill was poised on the parchment, they were all sipping at coffees, tees or
hot chocolate and Rita Skeeter was leaning forward eagerly.

“Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet, interviewing Harry Evans-Potter. I - and all my
readers - have to wonder: why does the Boy-Who-Lived want to give an interview now, after
ten years without a word?”

Harry grimaced at the title, but ignored it. After all, it was useful to him. He looked to his
aunt, who gave a short nod.

“At first we’ll have to explain why there was no word from me for those ten years. You see, I
didn’t know I was a wizard until my Hogwarts letter came.”

The quill paused, as did Skeeter. Even the photographer was staring at him wide-eyed.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, everybody seems very surprised by that fact. But on the night my parents died…” He
made sure to let his voice quiver a bit and was delighted when the dicta quill picked it up - so
it was spelled at least a bit “My Aunt Petunia found me on her doorstep in the morning.
There was a letter with a short explanation and nothing else. And nothing more came for ten
years.”

“Of course everybody is surprised! That is truly preposterous!” She probably meant to sound
outraged, but Harry could see the glee in her eyes. Already, this story was shaping up to be
explosive at the least.

“Yes, we thought so too. My aunt knew about the magical world, of course, but even though
there were a few incidents with me using magic, I got a grip of it and when nothing happened
for a while, she didn’t want to give me hope only to see my dreams of going to Hogwarts
dashed. So, she said nothing. Besides, how do you tell your only nephew that his parents
were killed by a dark wizard who then proceeded to try and kill him as well?”

“Not even eleven is old enough for that conversation, in my opinion”, added Petunia
sorrowfully.

Harry applauded her acting skills.

“Anyway, all that was moot when my Hogwarts letter came. But at least she thought I’d be
safe there, under Albus Dumbledore.”

“Safe from what?”, asked Rita.

“There still seem to be some Death Eaters around, or other allies of Voldemort who may have
hidden in the shadows all these years and waited to get back at me. It’s also quite a shock to
suddenly be famous when you were just a normal child a few months ago. It’s weird how
everybody knows your name - or thinks they do, seeing as I took my aunt’s last name and
mother’s maiden name too.”
“I can imagine it coming as quite a surprise. But you must know that the public only wants
the best for you, Harry?” She sounded saccharine-sweet.

“Of course I do. But there are also some who would want to use me for my fame - there have
been all sorts of businesses who have used my name to promote their products without my
guardian’s permission. We are in the process of suing them, by the way. And yes, you can
quote me on that too. I’m not sure they deserve a warning, but…”

He shrugged and Skeeter looked delighted.

“It definitely explained my uncle’s treatment of me.”

And wasn’t that a can of worms that made Petunia fidget and Harry try to keep it somewhat
child-appropriate. He held little back, however. Let everyone chew on that one.

Memory him had been embarrassed about it for his whole time at Hogwarts and, thus, had
never explicitly told anyone. Not that it excused the absolute obliviousness of everybody
because it had been so obvious. But having all those years of memories, as well as having a
better relationship with his relatives this time around (and the therapy had probably helped,
mused a voice inside his head) - Harry knew that it wasn’t his fault.

It hadn’t been his fault. He hadn’t deserved it. It had been wrong.

There were still some days when he had to tell himself these facts like some sort of mantra to
have logic triumph over his own emotions, but he was getting there. And he was ready for
people to know.

Besides, if anyone made fun of him for it, at least he’d know what kind of person they were.

“And then I went to Hogwarts. Of course, that turned out not to be so safe after all.”

Now that had her attention. The reporter’s eyes widened slightly behind her glasses and she
made an aborted motion as if to grab the Quick-Quotes-Quill out of her bag after all.

“Describe what happened, please.”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here. We consulted with our lawyer on this as well and my aunt
agrees that she, as a parent, would also want to know what has been going on at Hogwarts.”
Harry paused for dramatic effect. “On Halloween, a troll got into the school and attacked
three students.”

There was sudden coughing to their right as the photographer accidentally inhaled his tea. It
took them a minute or so to get the liquid out of his windpipe and him breathing without a
concerning rattling sound. Harry had to wonder by now whether witches and wizards were
prone to inhaling their drinks.

“Please do continue, Mr… Evans-Potter.”

“As you may have realised by now, one of those three students was myself. You see, I didn’t
much feel like celebrating Halloween. After all, I’d only found out this year what really
happened to my parents that day and wanted a bit of quiet time to myself. Another Slytherin,
who I will not name without their permission, went after me and we both found ourselves
cornered in a bathroom.

“Another student, who had also been worried about me, heard the commotion and came
running to find me still standing and the other Slytherin unconscious, so he joined the fight.
By the time members of staff arrived, the troll was already down and there were some serious
injuries.”

By now Rita Skeeter looked as if Christmas had come twice and was only barely trying to
conceal it. She proceeded to needle Harry with questions and he, mostly faithfully, told her
what had happened that night. He left out the names of Travers and Neville and didn’t even
mention which teachers had found them.

The only glaring exception was Quirrel, as he made sure to point out that if anyone knew
how a troll had gotten into the school, it should be their Defence professor and Rita should
really get a statement from him concerning the whole matter. He had also “let slip” that the
man had been among those to first find them, though had spent most of his time on the
bathroom floor.

The rest of the time was spent talking about the rest of his time at Hogwarts. He also
mentioned the bullying, though without naming names. When Skeeter asked whether anyone
had done anything, Harry just shrugged and said “they must have not known what to do”.

He also said how much he enjoyed the other aspects of the school, though. How much he
loved magic and was eager to learn as much about it as possible, how interesting he thought
quidditch was and that he wanted to try out for the team too. How he had made some
amazing friends.

“Why did nobody notify the Ministry about the troll?”, asked Skeeter finally, bringing the
interview back to what she seemed to have deemed the most interesting part.

“I’m not sure. Even a few first years had it handled, in the end, so it must have not been that
big of a deal. And I’m not sure anyone could think the Ministry competent.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I’m not sure I would trust them with a troll if they can’t even get a floo installed”,
deadpanned Harry and heard Petunia muffle a snort in her coffee.

Her quill paused over the parchment. “What about your floo?”

And Harry launched into that whole drama as well.

They took some pictures too, some of him alone, some with his aunt standing next to him.
And when the party left the little café, they all looked satisfied with the outcome. And for the
first time ever, Harry found himself looking forward to a Rita Skeeter article.
On the way home, Petunia was avoiding eye contact and was more quiet than was usual.
Harry had started to be worried when she finally looked at him.

“Was the bullying really so bad at school? I have a feeling you understated it, more than
anything.”

Harry hesitated. “It was all that and worse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything in your letters?”

She looked actually concerned and that almost threw him more than anything else that had
happened today. “I could deal with it on my own just fine.”

“But… you don’t have to deal with it all alone. I know I wasn’t there for you. Quite the
opposite, in fact. And I know I can’t force you to trust me. But if you let me, I will help you.
If I have to march into Hogwarts myself, I’ll do that too. Dumbledore deserves a telling off
anyway.”

Harry laughed. “I think we’ve antagonised him enough for one day. He won’t like this article.
At all.”

Petunia smirked. “No, he really won’t. If only I had someone to gossip about this with! But
it’s not like I can talk to Mrs Corbyn from Number 9; and she’s such a good person to chat
about juicy things with. But this is magical, so…”

“Oh, I think you’ll have someone to gossip with soon. After all, we’re meeting Susan,
Hannah, and their guardians.”

That seemed to cheer her right up and Harry found himself smiling despite himself. Yes, his
aunt had changed. But some things seemed to stay the same.

The meeting with his friends and their guardians started off well. His aunt already knew
Hannah’s mother and the two were soon catching each other up on their sewing projects.

Amelia Bones, in contrast, seemed much more serious. She had her grey hair styled in a short
cut and the black monocle gave her a no-nonsense kind of vibe. At the same time, her
personality seemed to fill a whole room and her booming voice sure did the rest. Harry could
definitely tell where Susan had gotten her confidence from.

She was nice enough, though, shaking his hand and saying Susan had told her a lot about
him. Harry returned the sentiment - Susan really had talked a lot about her aunt, usually
wide-eyed and in awe, and seemed to aspire to be half the witch she was. Maybe not as head
of the DMLE, though. She seemed to have her eyes set on the Minister post instead.

They were having lunch in Diagon Alley at a restaurant close to Gringotts and drawing a few
eyes. Some people were very obviously staring at Harry, but whenever a person veered
closer, Amelia Bones levelled them with a truly impressive glare that made them back off
immediately. Harry decided he liked her for that alone.
“Can I borrow your aunt?”, he asked Susan, only half joking. “I might actually manage to
walk through Diagon in peace if she’s there.”

Susan giggled, but also looked proud. “Maybe you can borrow her sometimes, but I
definitely get to keep her.”

If you looked really close, you could see a smile on Madam Bones’ face as well.

They had a very nice meal. Dudley was with them, of course, and got along very well with
Susan and Hannah. When Susan thanked Harry for her Christmas gift, a copy of The Hobbit
so that they could finally lay their first discussion from the Hogwarts Express to rest, and
admitted she had already started reading it, Dudley excitedly launched into an analysis of the
whole thing. The conversation soon drifted into comparing the fantasy world to the wizarding
world and then moved to school subjects.

If the other adults raised an eyebrow at how much he knew about the Hogwarts curriculum,
they kept their surprise to themselves and instead listened to the children debate Herbology
and Potions and magical creatures. They were also quickly convinced to move to Fortescue’s
for a desert of ice cream. And because Madam Bones seemed to be in such a good mood,
Harry decided it was safe to discuss the more pressing issues.

“Madam Bones?”, he asked.

“Call me Amelia when I’m not acting in my official position”, she offered.

“Thank you!” He smiled. “Though this is… half official, I think? More like, it will probably
affect your job.”

The woman grew at once serious again and Susan gave him a look.

“You promised to warn me beforehand the next time you do something stupid like the troll”,
she said.

“It’s nothing like that. It’s just that we had an interview with a Daily Prophet reporter
yesterday - about said troll, among other things. She’s really fast and got us the article to
review this morning. We’ll send it off this evening and it will be printed in two parts:
tomorrow or the day after, and part two about two weeks later.”

Madam Bones’ eyes had widened a bit, making Harry fear her monocle would fall out some
time soon. What truly scared him was when she started to grin. “Is that so? I really want to
see Dumbledore talk his way out of that one.”

“So you knew about the troll?”

“Of course. Susan told me. I would have sent aurors to investigate the situation, but Hogwarts
still counts as private property and the ministry cannot interfere unless under very specific
circumstances.”

“And those are…?”, asked Petunia who was apparently listening in.
“Oh, if the board of governors asks them to, if enough parents band together to have us start
an investigation, or if a two thirds majority of the Wizengamot votes to interfere.”

So that’s why Umbridge had been possible; Harry had wondered about that over the years.
But the death of a student at the school - no matter that it had been during the Triwizard
Tournament, which was renown for its death toll - would have whipped the wizarding world
into a frenzy. He wasn’t sure yet whether involving politics in Hogwarts decision making was
a good idea, but, to be fair, anything must be better than the death trap the school was right
now.

“I’m not sure this will be enough”, said Harry. He paused, then grinned. “But it’s a start.”

The monocle teetered precariously yet again. “Why do you think it’s just a start?”

“Because I’m me. And things tend to happen to me.”

That was the understatement of the century, though Madam Bones didn’t seem convinced.
Hannah and Susan just traded a look and sighed. Funny enough, so did Dudley.

“Aunt Amelia - he does have a point”, confirmed his friend.

“Does he ever”, muttered Hannah.

“Anyway, I figured it would probably end up impacting you in some way. Either with the
troll or with the dig I made at the floo network people who refuse to help my aunt install one
in our house.” Harry had to make a conscious effort to unclench his fists. “Or with how I
talked about me not knowing I was a wizard, or how my uncle treated me... Take your pick.
So I thought I’d warn you.”

“You’ll probably be the only one prepared for that disaster”, whispered Hannah, awe in her
eyes. “This is the type of thing that could ruin careers.”

Susan had a similar look on her face. “It’s going to be absolute mayhem!”

Harry wasn’t sure why she was so excited by that prospect, but had to admit it scared him
slightly. “Did I mention the reporter who is writing this article is Rita Skeeter?”

Susan looked at him, her mouth dropped open, and then she almost fell off her chair
laughing. “Oh! Oh, they don’t stand a chance! How did you get her to cooperate? I hear Aunt
Amelia rant about her all the time.”

“If she wants the first interview Harry Evans-Potter has ever given”, said Aunt Petunia
primly “she was always going to sign the contract we gave her.”

The look Amelia Bones gave his aunt at that was calculating and maybe even a bit impressed.
“…that might actually work.”

Harry shrugged. “She’ll probably find some loopholes around some of it. But we covered the
basics.”
Madam Bones didn’t seem to be angry at them at least, although they were definitely making
her job more exciting in the next few weeks. Probably months. But she didn’t seem to be a
huge defender of Dumbledore, so that might help. She also wasn’t his enemy, to be fair. It
was refreshing to meet someone neutral who just wanted to do their job.

When Harry read the headline the next day, he just sighed and passed it off to his aunt.

“Do I need to call our lawyer?”, she asked.

Another great thing about having a squib lawyer who had a firm in the muggle world was the
fact that they could simply call him on the house phone and didn’t have to send him an owl
every time they had new information.

“No, but I think she found a loophole.”

THE BOY-WHO-WAS-FORGOTTEN

It was an eye-catching headline, he had to give it to her. And they had not banned his hated
boy-who-lived moniker or any versions of it in the contract and had not noticed the missing
headline in the version they had been given. Harry wasn’t sure even now whether he wanted
it banned because that’s what the public decided he was and he might as well get something
useful out of it. For now, he decided re-reading the article and finding out whether she had
changed anything else had a higher priority than thinking about it.

There have been articles written about Harry James Evans-Potter. Nobody has ever had an
interview with him, however - until now. Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for the Daily
Prophet, had the honour of being the first to interview the boy famous for surviving He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named ’s killing curse as a mere one-year-old.

So far so good. There was also a photo after that part that showed Petunia and him standing
in front of a wall right next to the café. The photographer had caught the instance when his
aunt was straightening his scarf and he looked like any teenager enduring a mothering
guardian before they both smiled into the camera. It was actually a rather sweet moment, he
had to admit.

Harry Evans-Potter, now a first year Slytherin student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and
Wizardry, looks like a normal boy at first glance. That he is accompanied by his aunt, Petunia
Evans, just underlines his young age.

SKEETER: Mr Evans-Potter, I speak for my readers and myself when I ask why you decide to
step into the spotlight now after a silence of 10 years.

EVANS-POTTER: That ’s easy to answer; I didn’t even know there was a spotlight because I
had no idea I was even a wizard until my Hogwarts letter arrived.

After conveying my surprise at this fact, Mr Evans-Potter and his aunt continue to explain
how …
 Yes, she was being pretty accurate, he had to admit. Of course she milked the “being left on a
doorstep at the beginning of November” bit and did a quick recap of what had happened the
night before with a focus on how it had impacted his life afterwards and the challenges his
new guardian had faced - including the issues with the floo. However, she also questioned
magical authorities about why nobody had ever checked up on the placement of the boy-who-
lived, or offered his squib aunt any help - especially with her magic-hating husband. It was
jerking on people’s emotions and sense of justice and Harry couldn’t have been happier.

Harry was glad they had left out his uncle’s name because after that article, half of the
magical world would want to go after him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but Harry didn’t
think his uncle was worth some overzealous person going to Azkaban.

The last line talked about the follow-up article which would hit the papers two weeks from
today - probably to give people enough time to either talk themselves into a rage, be
desperate for a follow-up, or be over the first article and need another fix of entertainment.
The interesting part was that Hogwarts would have started by the time it happened, so Harry
would be able to see the reactions. Especially as the troll incident had actually not been
mentioned yet, as it was all pre-Hogwarts for this one.

“It’s actually an okay article. Definitely puts us in a sympathetic light.”

Petunia looked slightly guilty about that, but Harry ignored it. He was stuck with memories
of the future, so he wouldn’t deal with being emotionally stuck in the past too.

They had already decided, much to Dudley’s indignation, not to go to Diagon after the article
hit - partly to add to the mystery of it all, mostly to keep from being overrun. Petunia was a
person of interest too, now, and being thrown into the past-Christmas, pre-New Years chaos
didn’t seem like the best way to introduce her to it all.

Harry didn’t mind, though. They spent a quiet but pleasant New Year’s eve in Privet Drive,
having a table full of finger food, watching TV and then going outside at midnight to watch
the fireworks and wish the gathered neighbours a Happy New Year. If Harry and Dudley
snuck off into their backyard after a minute or so to set off some of Filibuster’s firework,
nobody but them noticed they were longer-lasting, louder, more colourful and overall more
magical than anything else that was fired into the sky.

Chapter End Notes

Oh, did you think Harry would take the inability of the Hogwarts professors to protect
him lying down? And just leave Quirrellmort in the defence position uncontested?
Oh no. He has plans.

PS: I'm almost done editing Year 1, so this is pretty much the final chapter count, plus
potentially an epilogue.
 Moonlight and Memories
Chapter Summary

A lot of things are revealed, some personal, some public.

Some people like it more than others.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Two days before he was going back to Hogwarts, there was a knock at the door and two
slightly frazzled-looking wizards asked if they could come in and talked about a last-minute
assignment to make a fireplace floo-ready, courtesy of one Madam Bones.

Petunia, eyebrows raised, led them inside and to the living room while Harry tried
desperately not to giggle in the background. That was partly at the fact how soon after the
article the ministry was desperately trying to make itself look better, and partly at the faces
the men made when they saw whose house it was they had been sent to, as Susan’s aunt had
apparently not seen it fit to inform them.

One of them seemed to grasp the extent of the situation and went out of his way to be
accommodating while the other just looked at him like he had lost his mind. Harry didn’t
know who he liked more.

Either way, when Petunia and Dudley accompanied Harry to the Hogwarts Express, they
flooed to Platform 9 3/4 from their house. This was when Harry realised the fault of his plan
when he almost face-planted onto the floor and had to roll to the side to avoid being squashed
by Dudley who stumbled out right behind him. He was almost annoyed when Petunia
managed to step out of the fireplace almost gracefully and casually brushed a bit of ash from
her clothes before raising an eyebrow at the two boys on the ground.

“Harry!”

He was suddenly very glad to be lying on the floor because he found himself tackle-hugged
by Hannah and would have gone down anyway.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Er… hi, Hannah?”

“I opened some more of the chocolate frogs you gave me for Christmas and I already got two
cards I didn’t have!”
He had gotten Hannah a whole cartload of chocolate frogs in the hopes there would be some
cards she found useful. It seemed she had been lucky.

Susan was laughing at them from the back. The adults were all standing together, looking at
their charges with fond expressions.

“I see you took the floo?”, Susan asked slyly when Hannah finally got off him.

“Yes. Imagine our surprise when, two days ago, some workers from the Department of
Magical Transportation came by to open up our floo connection. It was so very unexpected”,
he deadpanned.

Funny enough, the snort at that came from Amelia Bones. Petunia raised an eyebrow at her.

“Let’s say I’ve had a few very interesting days at work. Susan may even forgive you for me
having to put in extra hours.”

“Oops”, said Harry.

“Normally I’d be mad. But you had the Ministry scrambling and it was just too funny to hear
about, even if it was mostly via my aunt’s annoyed ranting.” She smirked. “They’re all really
scared of the next article.”

Harry returned the grin with one of his own. “Oh, they better be.”

Hannah’s mother leaned towards Petunia. “Should we be worried?”, she whispered.

“About the children?” Petunia waved her off and motioned towards the giggling group of 11-
year-olds. “They’ll be fine. As for everybody else… I don’t particularly care.”

They were soon ushered onto the train and waving madly at Dudley when the Hogwarts
express started moving. It still hurt to see his cousin left behind; Harry missed him already.

Neville joined them soon enough, raving about the book on Herbology and the seeds of
exotic plants that Harry had found during his trip to Knockturn Alley in the summer and had
bought just on the off-chance they managed to become friends. It seemed that, at least, had
paid off.

Blaise entered their compartment next, fitting into the mixed group without any issues. He
was wearing Harry’s Christmas gift and even though he had thanked Harry via letter -
Pureblood custom apparently dictated to do so and Harry, too, had spent the day after
Christmas writing thank you letters - he made sure to thank him in person as well. For all his
talkativeness, getting a read on the Slytherin was actually very difficult. He had told Harry
that he was fascinated by dragons, so Harry decided a silver clasp for his cloak in the form of
one might be appreciated. He was wearing the gift, so Harry hadn’t completely failed.

Theo didn’t stay, but at least dropped by, also thanking Harry for the notebook with his
family coat of arms and beautiful quills that fit the colours perfectly. Harry had noticed his
were getting a bit worn. He was probably still desperately trying to toe the line between being
friends with him and not making his father angry by associating with blood traitors and light
wizards, so Harry thought that a family-centric gift was suitably neutral.

Harry honestly felt bad for him, but had a feeling he would have to make a decision one day -
and it would cost him, no matter how much he tried to help his friend.

Malfoy poked his head in as well by, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. There was a second
of silence. Then Malfoy gave a short, sharp nod at Susan, Hannah and Neville that made their
eyes grow wide and had them trading questioning glances. Then he turned to Blaise and
Harry.

“Zabini. Evans-Potter. I hope you had a lovely Yule.”

“Hello, Malfoy. You too, Crabbe, Goyle” Harry nodded at them in greeting. “It was time
spent with family, which is always nice. Thank you for your gift as well; it was very much
appreciated.”

“Thank you for yours as well. My mother asked me to send on well-wishes too.”

Ah. That’s where it all came from then. Narcissa Malfoy had apparently talked some sense
into her son. Hopefully, she’d gotten through to her husband as well.

“Please send my regards back to her.”

Malfoy nodded once more at them all, then left the compartment along with Crabbe and
Goyle who hadn’t said a word.

“…well that was weird”, Hannah summed up the interaction.

Harry still took it as a general improvement -and maybe he could finally get an in with
Narcissa Malfoy. While the person moving in political circles was Lucius Malfoy, Harry had
a feeling if he wanted to get on with the family in general, he needed her approval. And while
he hated her husband with a passion and still wasn’t quite sure about her son, something
about her felt… not trustworthy exactly, but like he would be able to work with her.

Another pair of unexpected visitors were Gemma Farley and Roark Donoghue who both
popped in during their rounds. Gemma had bought them all a round of chocolate frogs while
Roark had reminded him he could come to him if he had any issues.

The two had found themselves being stared down by all occupants of the compartment, who
were looking rather unimpressed, Harry included. He could have used this sort of offer three
months ago. Now it was too late, as far as he was concerned.

He left behind political machinations for the rest of the train journey, though, simply enjoying
the time spent with his friends. Afterwards, they stuffed their faces at the feast. There were
more hellos from all his acquaintances and the usual “what did you do for Christmas”
questions. For the first time, Harry actually had some stories to tell.

The only thing souring the mood a little were the looks Harry got from the staff table.
Hagrid’s face contorted in guilt every time he looked at him and proceeded to take a long
drink from his mug every time their eyes met. That was going to be a conversation for sure.

McGonagall had known most of it, but still managed to look troubled. Dumbledore had lost
his twinkle again, but either wasn’t surprised (and he shouldn’t be. There was Mrs Figg, after
all, and his strange visit in disguise), or he’d had enough time to get used to the information
until the school started. Harry couldn’t help the thought that the man deserved to be
uncomfortable. After all, he had been the deciding factor for his placement with the then-
Dursleys.

He had still gotten the man a Christmas present on a whim. Harry still wasn’t sure what had
possessed him, but he had seen the colourful woollen socks and hadn’t been able to help
himself. There was just something about the bright purple socks with yellow pineapples he
had seen during their trip to London that had screamed Dumbledore to him. It was too perfect
- and the man had mentioned that people only ever got him books in the other timeline. While
he didn’t trust him, everybody deserved something nice for Christmas, even if it was ugly
socks from someone anonymous.

The man needed something nice before the next article hit either way.

Snape and Quirrel both had matching expressions that might contain a hint of understanding,
though not pity. Harry found it so weird that he was happy to let some of the more hideous
memories of Vernon play out for them and watch them flinch. Besides, if it stopped them
from going after him out of pity for a while, he’d take it.

There were a lot of looks directed his way again. Those had actually decreased by the time
the Christmas holidays had come around, but now the interest in him had returned to an all-
time high. At least he was semi-prepared this time, as it was actually his doing.

The Slytherins, at least, looked mostly intrigued by the development. Or they were still wary
because of the troll incident. Who could tell, really.

He had planned to wait until the twins had detention and then use the invisibility cloak to
sneak into Gryffindor tower and steal the map. But that had been before they had made an
effort to befriend him and even sent him a Christmas gift and now stealing from them just
seemed wrong. The problem was that Harry still very much wanted the map.

There was the issue that he showed up on it and he had some exploits he didn’t want anyone
to notice. He would also be able to monitor Quirrell more effectively and dodge teachers on
his nightly or illegal adventures. And, though he tried to argue that part of himself down,
there was the sentiment attached to it and he just really really wanted something his father
had a hand in creating.

So, after the welcome back dinner, he watched the twins as they snuck off into the nearest
secret passage and then caught up to them. He did make sure there were no paintings or stone
snakes around; he couldn’t be too careful these days.

“Hello, chaos twins!”

The twins startled slightly, which was a miracle in its own, but turned around.

“Hello, little snake! Nice to see you, how has your day been?”, asked the right twin, one
eyebrow raised.

Harry thought it might be George. He seemed to have a habit of talking first. If he had gotten
the names they used during their conversations right, that was.

“It’s nice to see you - and thanks so much for the Christmas gift! My cousin and I had lots of
fun trying those out.”

“Aw, you didn’t use them for pranking?”, asked maybe-Fred.

“Well… I did sneak one that makes you float into my aunt’s cup.” She had taken finding
herself floating under the ceiling with humour. Mostly.

“Thanks for our Christmas gift too, by the way!”, said maybe-George. “The pranking stuff
from Diagon will come in really handy - but how on earth did you get some of the other
stuff?”

Harry had sent Kreacher out for some of the more obscure and potentially illegal things from
Knockturn Alley.

“Ask me no questions, and I shall tell you no lies.” The twins didn’t seem too put off by that,
so Harry continued. “I know what secret I want to trade for now. And I think you’ll like what
I came up with. Well. Half of it.”

The left twin raised his eyebrows. “Alright, we’re listening.”

“I want to trade for the Marauder’s Map.”

There was a lot of sputtering and denial during the next minute, but Harry waited it all out.
When they had finally exhausted their complaints, he felt free to continue.

“Yes, I know about the map. Yes, I figured out you have it. Yes, I know how it works. How?
Because it’s mine.”

“But we got it from Filch before you even came to Hogwarts.” Maybe-Fred’s voice had taken
on a suspicious tone by now.

“Let me rephrase that: that map is my inheritance because my dad was one of the people who
created it.” He smiled fondly. “He was Prongs. He and his best friends made it when they
were students here.”

“Mmh.” The twins exchanged some unreadable glances. “You do seem to know more about it
than anyone else. That it exists, for one.”

“Yeah, only a handful of people still know about it, I think. I’m not even sure Dumbledore
has a clue and Filch may have his suspicions, but he would have used it to catch students all
the time if he had ever figured out how it worked.”
“We figured the same.” They gave each other more looks. “One moment.”

They went to the other end of the hallway and seemed to have a very animated discussion.
Harry couldn’t tell which of the twins might be opposed to him getting the map, or if they
were just discussing the pros and cons in general.

This was a risk. But stealing from them felt wrong. And Harry figured they were decent
enough to want to return an heirloom to the proper person, especially one they considered a
tentative friend and possible fellow prankster. And if they refused… he could still steal it.
They’d probably know it was him, but Harry would cross that road if it came to that.

There were wide hand gestures involved as well now and Harry thought they would be great
entertainment on a a stage as well if their wizarding joke shop didn’t work out. They finally
seemed to have come to a decision, however, as they turned around and marched back
towards him.

“Okay. Depending on what you can bargain with, we might - and I say might - be persuaded
to part with the map. Maybe. It would have to be something really good, though. And we
want the right to borrow it. There are some projects we need it for, so if we ask you and you
don’t have any pressing issues yourself…”

“Of course! That’s what I would have suggested as well. I’ll throw in telling you some things
I know about the Marauders too.”

“Alright then. What’s the trade?”

This had already gone better than he had hoped. “Don’t you want to know where I disappear
to when you can’t find me on the map?”

That warranted some more raised eyebrows and Harry smirked to himself. He’d gotten it
right. This was why they had approached him in the kitchen in the first place and they were
probably also responsible for some of the “feeling watched” moments he had experienced
throughout the months before Christmas. They must have noticed there were times when they
couldn’t find him on the map and had become curious.

“…we have been wondering”, said maybe-George.

“There’s a hidden room that’s not on the map, so I’m not sure even the Marauders ever found
it - or maybe it’s unplottable. I stumbled upon it when I was hiding from some Gryffindors.
It’s hidden so that you can’t even see the door unless you know what to do to call it into
being. And after you do that, the room behind it turns into anything you wish for. Within
reason, of course. But I’m pretty sure it can do anything from a broom cupboard, to a
bathroom, to a duelling room, to a swimming pool.”

“That sounds unlikely.”

“Improbable, more like. I think one of the founders may have created it. Or Hogwarts itself
grew it at some point from ambient magic.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s there now. And
very few people know about it.”
Harry had a theory about that, actually. He believed that whatever the room created must be
somewhere in the castle. It probably took water from the pipe system, furniture and items
from the room of lost things, unused classrooms… maybe even books from the library. That
was another reason Harry had told Kreacher to leave everything that wouldn’t get them a lot
of money in the room. Just in case.

He had thought long and hard about what he would offer for the map. He’d first thought
about offering to lend them his invisibility cloak, but trading one heirloom for another
seemed wrong. Besides, nobody besides Dudley and Petunia knew about it so far, and Harry
wanted to keep it that way. And while Kreacher was still collecting sellable items from in
there, it was unlikely the twins would immediately find the room of lost things and as long as
Kreacher was in there, they wouldn’t be able to enter anyway.

Besides, Harry couldn’t go there often at the moment anyway as he was still being followed
by portrait snakes. If he hadn’t been told about it, he might not have noticed, but now that he
knew to look for scaled beings in the portraits next to him, it was easy to see the serpents
hiding in the paintings he passed. Some were sneakier than others and he was already making
a list of which ones might be of use to him once Voldemort was out of the castle.

The point was, he couldn’t enter the room without fear of Voldemort finding out and growing
worried about his horcrux - something he desperately wanted to postpone for as long as
possible. Probably years. His only option was to stay away from the Room of Requirement
for now, or only go near it under his invisibility cloak, but being nowhere to be found was
another suspicious thing to do and he wanted to do it as little as possible. The twins, however,
weren’t under observation.

“…that does sound like something we would be very interested in.”

“You could use it for experiments. It could do a decent potions lab, I think. And explosion-
proof is an option too.”

The twins exchanged a look. “You seem to know a lot about what goes on in this castle.”

“I have to. If I don’t want to be caught off guard, I have to know more than my opponents.
And you, as known Gryffindor pranksters… let’s just say I did my research.”

“I’m not sure whether to be disturbed or honoured”, mused maybe-Fred. “George?”

Ha! He had gotten it right!

“Same. So, how do we get to his hypothetical improbable miracle room?”

“It’s on the seventh floor, right opposite of the tapestry of Sir Barnabas teaching trolls how to
dance. You have to walk past it three times and wish for whatever room you need. A door
will appear and behind it, just the room you wanted. That’s why it’s called the Room of
Requirement. The house elves call it the Come-And-Go-Room too.”

“Those little buggers knew!”, cursed George.

Harry laughed. “House elves know a lot more than most people give them credit for. Most
people just never ask them.”

“Hey, wasn’t that where…”

“…you’re right! Where we hid in second year when Filch was chasing us because we let off
those dung bombs!”

“Good times”, said Fred.

“But it was a broom cupboard then.”

“…he didn’t find us, though. Even though he was right behind us and it should have been
obvious where we had gone.”

“Thought he’d gone barmy.”

Harry had watched that exchange like a particularly fascinating tennis match. He sometimes
wondered whether the twins had slightly telepathic abilities or something like a twin bond -
or they just had a lot of practice.

“Yes, that’s the one. There are some people watching me at the moment, so I haven’t dared to
go anywhere near it for a while. But you guys are in the clear. And don’t worry, nobody
followed me here. I checked.”

More raised eyebrows were the answer to that. “You lead a very interesting life.”

“You have no idea”, Harry replied.

“We’ll check on the room-“

“-and if you were telling the truth-”

“-then we’ll come find you-”

“-and give you the map.”

Harry was very proud that didn’t give him a headache. He had found the trick to
understanding the twin speak was looking at one of them and tuning out the switches, so that
it almost sounded like only one person was speaking.

“Gentlemen, I think we have ourselves a deal!”

“Glad to be doing business with you!”, they chimed and took his offered hands - crossing
their arms while shaking them, of course.

By curfew, Harry had gotten the map from two starry-eyed twins, who were raving about the
room. They had also offered to show him the activation phrase (again), but Harry had
declined that because he was still slightly scared they would be overheard.
Instead, Harry left them to their own devices and holed up with the map in bed.

:What’s that?:, asked Mehen and nudged the parchment with his nose.

:It’s a map of Hogwarts that my dad and his friends created. It shows where everyone is.:

:That sounds useful!:

:It really is.: Harry touched the map with his wand. “I solemly swear that I am up to no
good.”

Lines of ink spread out like a spiderweb from the point of contact. They flowed together in a
mesmerising pattern that slowly turned into words.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

THE MARAUDER ’S MAP

And when Harry unfolded the parchment further, an outline of Hogwarts took shape. Rooms
and hallways and secret tunnels - and people. Right now, the common rooms were stuffed full
of tiny dots of students, while only some were hurrying along the corridors, trying to make
curfew. Harry was particularly worried for a group of Hufflepuffs who were running right
towards Filch.

For today, he was happy to stay here and plot some more, though. “Mischief managed.”

Unless, of course…

Harry stared at the parchment, a ludicrous idea taking shape in his mind and a tiny spark of
hope unfurling in his chest. It was worth a try.

“Harry Evans-Potter politely asks the Marauders to introduce themselves”, he said, tapping
the map with his wand.

There was a pause where he thought nothing would happen - and then words raced across the
parchment.

Mr Padfoot respectfully greets Mr Evans-Potter and can’t help but wonder if he is related to
a certain black-haired fool and green-eyed menace, scrawled itself across the page.

Mr Moony adds that, if this is so, this combination seems particularly explosive and quite
prone to pranking and fits of righteous fury.

Mr Wormtail advises Mr Evans-Potter to keep the map close and not give it back to his
probably overbearing father.

There was another pause, then familiar handwriting scrawled itself under the already existing
lines. And Harry suddenly realised that he had seen it once before, in Gringotts, when he had
done his blood test.

Mr Prongs wishes Mr Evans-Potter a marvellous, joyous day now that he knows his advances
were successful and finds himself in the unique position to congratulate his son on figuring
out this item.

Harry traced the writing with his finger. It felt a bit like an invisible James Potter was sitting
next to him, writing the lines and giggling to himself while his friends ribbed him about his
apparent marriage to one Lily Evans.

“Hi, dad”, he whispered.

He didn’t expect there to be an answer.

Hi, Harry, said his father’s handwriting.

Harry desperately wanted to see whether the personalities confined to the map would manage
longer conversations, like portraits did, but he was also scared to find out that they didn’t. So,
for now, he sat there tracing the writing over and over again until it disappeared.

Because he had been tired after the long train journey, stuffed full of food and then hunted
down the twins, Harry hadn’t been able to do anything else that first night. On night two, he
didn’t exactly want to do anything, but found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling
anyway.

:Harry. Sleep.:

Mehen still insisted on sharing his bed, even though the fear of accidentally crushing him
hadn’t disappeared during their time together.

:I can’t.: He’d thought he had a handle on it. But the curiosity was eating him alive. :I think
I’m going to do something stupid.:

:I can’t say I’m happy about it, but at least you’re warning me this time.: The snake did his
equivalent of a sigh. :Alright. I’m coming.:

It was the first time Harry used his cloak to sneak around Hogwarts and the memories were
coming fast and strong. He had walked along these corridors, invisible, forever and never at
all. He had walked alone. And with Ron and Hermione. It still gave him a bit of a pang when
he thought about the two, but things were different this time around. They had to be.

And he was different too.

The future memories had changed him, as had his exploits in the last two years. The question
was - how much? And was it for the better or for worse? Harry had been asking himself this
for over two years. And right now he had a way of finding out at least a small part of it.
It took him a few tries and wrong turns until he found the abandoned classroom and when he
did he breathed a sigh of relief for more than that reason. He slipped insight, made of silver
silk and moonlight and shadows.

The real moonlight was streaming through the windows, illuminating the seams between the
floor tiles and the outlines of desks and chairs stacked up on the sides. A grand mirror was
propped up against the wall right opposite the door. It was as high as the ceiling and would
have been a nightmare to get through the door without magic. The golden frame was adorned
with meticulous swirls and carvings and the infamous letters, and two clawed feet were
helping it stay upright.

The Mirror of Erised was still there. Maybe because nobody had found it yet, or because he
was supposed to find it. When Harry scanned the room, he couldn’t see anyone, but knowing
Dumbledore, that didn’t have to mean anything.

:I can’t smell or see anyone:, whispered Mehen into his ear.

Harry had explained what he was going to do and the snake had promised to keep an eye and
his nose out. Not that Harry thought it meant the headmaster was definitely not here -
underestimating Dumbledore would be a big mistake. And the man would want to know
Harry’s desires now more than ever. Harry had used the Marauder’s Map to avoid patrolling
teachers, Filch and Mrs Norris on his way there and hadn’t seen Dumbledore then. He didn’t
want to take out the parchment now, for fear the rustling would alert anyone who might be
here.

For now, Harry found he didn’t care and stepped towards the mirror.

He knew, this time, what it meant. He knew it could draw him in, ensnare him until all he
wanted was what was inside that mirror. But Harry also had an idea of what he might see, or
rather not see. He took one more deep breath, then stepped in front of the mirror.

As expected, he didn’t see his parents.

He still missed them and wished desperately that the Halloween night ten years ago had gone
differently, wished they had survived, had raised him. But having seven years of additional
memories without them had helped him understand that it could never be - but also that death
may not be the end. And why would he want to drag their memories here when he would
naturally end up seeing them again some day?

No. His parents were gone. And it hurt that they were, but Harry had other desires now. He
had a family. Two families. They might be strange, at times broken, and even slightly insane
and dangerous, but they were his, and he would protect them.

He could see them all standing behind him. Dudley and Petunia were there, to his right. On
his left was Kreacher, holding Walburga’s portrait. Susan and Hannah were grinning and
merrily waving at him from behind, followed closely by Blaise, the Weasley twins, Neville,
and Hagrid. Theo was half-hiding behind the giant, but was there all the same.
There were some shadowy figures of people that might be future friends or family, people yet
to come or change their minds. There was a man hiding behind Walburga’s painting that
seemed to change shape, sometimes a man with a wide grin, sometimes a dog, bouncing
around the grass. Harry thought he saw freckles and bushy hair on two other people and
couldn’t help but shake his head at himself at not having given up that dream yet.

They were all together, Dudley and Petunia as much a part of his world, the magical world, as
Susan and Hannah. They were whole. They were safe. Even Hogwarts could be seen far in
the background, standing proud and tall and untouched by war.

And there was Harry himself.

He was front and centre, smiling at his younger self genially, Mehen wrapped around his
neck. Hedwig was flying overhead, sometimes in, sometimes out of the frame. The longer he
stood there, the more he could see himself growing up and growing old and the people
around him along with him.

He could feel wetness on his cheeks and lifted an arm to wipe away the tears. Mehen was
raising his head towards his face and flicking his tongue against his skin.

:I’m fine.: He made sure to speak so quietly that even his familiar barely heard him. :It’s just
that…:

He trailed off to look at the mirror image again. Mirror-Harry was outright laughing now,
spinning Susan around in an exuberant dance, then switching to Hannah, then being waltzed
along by the Weasley twins before dragging a reluctant Theo with the shadow of a smile on
his face into the round dance. Mehen was laughing too, shaking with it so much that Harry
could almost hear the cut-off hissing sound. Everyone around them was laughing and it was a
miracle that Hagrid’s booming one didn’t shake the whole mirror world because it looked
like it should.

He could understand memory-Ron’s fascination with the mirror a bit better now. Because
while the boy from beyond time had seen things that had seemed so inconsequential to Harry,
they had been things that were achievable. Ron had seen a possible future, something that
was unlikely, yet not impossible.

It explained why he hadn’t been as entranced with the mirror as Harry had been. He’d had a
way of making his dreams possible, while Harry had known even then, deep down, that his
wishes were dreams and could never become a reality. It’s why he had been so drawn to the
Mirror of Erised; it was the only place where his deepest desires could ever be.

Now, however, he had said goodbye to his parents years ago. Now, he had another family and
friends to protect. And Harry knew that he would do everything in his power to make this
vision come true. He would work towards this safe and bright world, where he and the people
he loved would grow and find happiness with each other - a world where they all got to live
their lives.

He knew it could never be all sunshine. There would always be shadows. There would
always be things and people trying to hurt him and others. But he would try to get as close to
this as he could.

His tears were long dried when Harry turned away from mirror-Harry happily dancing his
adult time away with the people he loved most in the world. He didn’t say a single word,
didn’t turn around again, and he knew he would not be back. After all, he had plans to make.

And he didn’t know what he would have to do to make them a reality, but he couldn’t help
but wonder… even if he used methods that might turn other people’s stomachs… even if he
would be called a dark wizard more often than a light one… if it wouldn’t all be worth it if,
one day, he could look into the mirror again and just see himself.

The article came out that Wednesday and Harry had the best seat to see the reactions. He
couldn’t say people were staring at him more than they had been because since he had come
back, the staring had been pretty continuous. It was a nice change for everyone to be staring
at the Daily Prophet anyway, not that it would last.

DANGEROUS TIMES AT HOGWARTS

We left off the last article about Harry James Evans-Potter, the boy-who-lived, shortly before
he received his Hogwarts letter. Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet, of
course had to know how his re-entry into the wizarding world played out - and was shocked
to find his life improved very little at the so-called safest place in the world.

There was another photo, this time one Harry had sold to the Daily Prophet himself. He’d
shared some of the profits with Blaise, who had been the one to take it. The boy had looked
at him like he was crazy, but had accepted the transfer from Gringotts after Harry had
continued being stubborn about it. Not matter how much money someone had, he wouldn’t
ignore a debt owed to someone else.

The photo itself was a moving one, taken with the camera Aunt Petunia had bought for him.
You could see Hogwarts in the background and Harry himself standing at the front, black
Hogwarts robes on display along with his green-and-silver Slytherin scarf. He was actually
smiling in this one.

Harry Evans-Potter was, as you all read in the article at the beginning of September, sorted
into Slytherin. This caused quite a stir in the Hogwarts student population, as well as the
wizarding world in general. Now we find out for the first time what the boy-who-lived has to
say about the situation himself.

SKEETER: Mr Evans-Potter, can you describe your first few days at Hogwarts?

EVANS-POTTER: Like I already said, I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my
Hogwarts letter. So, I definitely didn’t know that I was famous in the magical world to boot. I
can tell you, that was an experience. I wasn’t used to people staring at me wherever I went,
everybody knowing my name and everybody… having preconceived notions about me.

SKEETER: Can you give an example?

EVANS-POTTER: I’m not sure? It’s not like most people tell me what they expect before they
start criticising me for being different. It starts with the way I look - I’m apparently supposed
to have glasses? Wizards should definitely look up contact lenses, in my opinion. I’m
supposed to be in Gryffindor too, so that was a shock to a lot of people.

SKEETER: But not to you?

EVANS-POTTER: I thought it was the house best suited for me. Even my cousin agrees. Of
course there were other houses the hat considered; I was a hat stall for a reason. But
Slytherin was always the main option.

SKEETER: How has your experience in the house been so far?

EVANS-POTTER: I'm not sure I can tell you because I’ve only really been a part of it for a
month. In the beginning, everyone mostly stayed away from me. The rest of the school
because they were disappointed in my sorting. The Slytherins because… well, you can guess.

Harry described some of the bullying that had gone on, though a bit toned down. He didn’t
want the full scope getting out. And even if it did, he could just play it off as him being
scared of the repercussions or not getting the whole picture - and being used to it due to his
childhood. Either way, it should show him in a sympathetic light and make a bunch of people
feel very very uncomfortable and cornered.

SKEETER: The teachers didn’t do anything about the bullying?

EVANS-POTTER: I know some of them noticed, but they must not have known what to do. If
a whole school turns against one person, there’s little even a dozen professors can do.

SKEETER: Did you get the idea they were biased because of your house as well?

EVANS-POTTER: Not particularly, but I can’t look into their heads, can I? I don’t
understand why everybody is so shocked that I’m in Slytherin anyway. It’s not like the whole
house is bad. I looked it up; there was a dark lord from Ravenclaw some time in the middle
ages. I found one from Hufflepuff too. And I think there was a Gryffindor one as well, though
that’s all hush-hush. So just because the last dark lord was a Slytherin, that doesn’t mean
they’re evil or anything. They’re kids. We’re all kids. And I’ve made some very good friends
in most of the houses by now.

The article continued in that vein for a while, with him talking about friends he had made -
without naming anyone specifically - in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin and how he got
along just fine with the Ravenclaws in their shared class too. How much he loved magic and
was fascinated by many different subjects.

SKEETER: I heard you’re a bit of a prodigy in a lot of subjects?

EVANS-POTTER: Erm, the professors seem to think so? I usually get new spells really fast
and writing the essays is more fun than difficult for me. There’s just so much to learn!
There were questions about his favourite classes - which Harry said was Charms. He knew
when Professor Flitwick got to that part because he first blushed, then started grinning
widely. Harry also mentioned how he was very interested in Ancient Runes and had started
learning some of the alphabets already, in preparation for his third year when he could finally
take the course.

SKEETER: So your time at Hogwarts started off bad, but then got better.

EVANS-POTTER: Mostly? There was this one incident… I asked my lawyer if I was allowed
to talk about that, but my aunt was the one who mentioned that, as a mother, she would want
to know what’s going on at Hogwarts. And it doesn’t seem like anyone has really told people
about it so far. So I guess I’ll be the one to do it.

And that’s how the whole troll incident was brought up. Harry thought it was very well-done.
The right mix of him loving Hogwarts and thinking about his future there, but being worried
about the safety at the school. Which should seem valid in most people’s eyes because
nobody wanted to face a mountain troll unexpectedly - or ever, really. And if the public got
wind of Harry even thinking about moving to a different magical community…

Harry could guess when Dumbledore had reached that part because he saw his hands
gripping the edges of the newspaper so hard it was a miracle it didn’t rip.

He didn’t pull any punches either. There was a step-by-step explanation of what had
happened that evening. Well, the version of events that Dumbledore had gotten anyway, or
rather, a watered-down version that left out how they had ended up in the bathroom in the
first place. Looking at Travers, who had gone pale white by now, Harry felt it had been a
good decision. He’d be sweating bullets right about now. Life debt or no life debt, if Harry
ever revealed to the public that Travers had been the one to get him in trouble in the first
place, there wouldn’t be much life left in him.

Skeeter had stuck to their deal and there were no names, not even the ones she should have
easily been able to guess, as Augusta Longbottom had apparently been bragging about
Neville’s feat in her social circle.

That’s why the only name that was mentioned jumped out at everybody. Quirrel knew it too
because Harry suddenly found himself the recipient of a very angry glare from the staff table.
Which meant Rita hadn’t questioned him about his part in things - probably to keep that she
was working on an article about the incident a secret from Dumbledore - but it also meant
that anyone who wanted to ask about the event, would send their owls to Dumbledore or him,
especially because he was the current DADA professor, whose post also seemed to involve
the general safety of the school.

The Slytherins around him had a mix of surprise, fear and awe in their eyes.

“Are you mad?”, hissed Malfoy. “The first article was bad enough, but this one…?”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it. Everything I’ve said in both is the truth.”
“But..” The other boy looked exasperated. “Aren’t you scared Dumbledore will go after you?
Or whoever else tried to cover up both?”

Harry put down his fork to look at his classmate. “If you’re scared of speaking the truth, it’s
probably a truth that should be spoken.”

“Yes but… argh! You’re infuriating.”

“Get used to it”, said Blaise. “And don’t even try changing his mind. He’s insane.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What? You can’t argue with the fact that you’re insane.” He paused. “It’s a good insane,
though. Mostly.”

“…thanks. I guess.”

Not that he could argue the point. Then again, if you wanted to change things, you first had to
make people aware that things needed to change. And if Harry had to act a bit unusual to get
people to notice, he’d gladly confound everybody until they paid attention. He could do
without facing a troll, though. And while angering people was an expected side effect, Harry
still wasn’t stupid.

He decided to avoid Dumbledore’s eyes, as well as Quirrel’s, for the next few days. They
both didn’t look very happy. At lunch, he decided he should probably extend that to the next
few weeks when a hail of owls started arriving at Hogwarts. The Great Hall was swarmed
and Harry suppressed a smirk at the bright red envelopes making their way to the headmaster.

Especially the Weasley twins looked on in awe as Dumbledore shot down one howler after
the other and let them go up in flames. Even Harry had to admit he was impressed at the
display.

Quirrel only got a handful of them. The first few ripped open and started shouting at him.
Harry admired him for a different reason, namely his dedication to his disguise, when the
possessed professor crawled under the table to escape the onslaught until Dumbledore dealt
with his letters as well.

“I haven’t had this much entertainment in years!”, Blaise decided.

They were sitting at the Hufflepuff table this time, surrounded by wide-eyed badgers. Even
Susan and Hannah, who’d had a general idea of what was going to happen, were looking
awe-struck and slightly vindictive.

“Aunt Amelia was sooo angry when Fudge forbade her from telling the public about the
troll”, she whispered. “She’s going to love this!”

“Well. First she’s going to get howlers too. And then she’ll have to decide whether to throw
Fudge and Dumbledore under the bus”, Hannah said.

“She’s going to love this”, Susan repeated.

 Harry figured that, at least as long as he was telling the truth, Amelia Bones would be a
formidable ally. If he ever got in her line of sight, though… He didn’t want her as an enemy.

Yet another owl swooped down from the rafters to release a red bomb onto the staff table.
This one didn't have great aim, apparently, as the howler ended up exploding Professor
McGonagall's pumpkin juice. She levelled the headmaster with an impressive glare.

That seemed to be the last straw, as Dumbledore swiftly stood and then rushed out of the
room, closely followed by his defence professor, a swarm of red, screaming letters, and about
twenty owls.

Blaise was right. This was entertainment gold.

Chapter End Notes

The editing is over! What you see is what you get, which means 22 chapters plus an
epilogue. But that will be posted as an extra chapter on the Saturday in between because
it's so short.
So: mid July, people! The end is nigh (and also the start of year 2).

Also - the chapter is posted early today because I've got a job interview and will hike the
rest of the day with a friend. 😊
 Watch Us
Chapter Summary

Some people are interested in Harry. Well. Define interested and define people.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The fallout for the article came in many different shapes and forms.

Gemma Farley tried to approach him again but was scared off by glaring badgers or,
unexpectedly, Tracy Davis. The girl took one look at his uncomfortable expression and
started hammering the prefect with questions until breakfast was over and they all had to
scramble to get to their next lesson. When Tracy winked at him and waved, Harry realised he
may have made another unintentional friend or at least ally.

Dumbledore and Quirrell were back by dinner, probably having installed their very own mail
ward and not being badgered by owls any longer. The other professors looked mostly
relieved. Blaise looked supremely disappointed. Multiple parents had still sent letters to their
children, of course, asking for confirmation of the rumours and then losing their collective
minds over it, which meant the Great Hall continued to be swarmed by owls either way.

Eventually, Harry was called to the headmaster’s office for a “talk”.

That mostly consisted of Dumbledore trying to ask him why he had talked to a reporter about
the incident in the first place. Harry had played dumb and argued anyone would have talked
to the papers, after all it had been a big deal - all the while projecting outrage in his thoughts.
He also blamed Petunia for the idea and felt little guilt about it.

Dumbledore then tried the route of wondering whether exposing himself had been a wise
decision. Harry just shrugged and said he hated being in the spotlight, but if he was, he’d
better be in it of his own volition.

All in all, it was very anticlimactic, even though Mehen had been squeezing his arm so hard
in worry that Harry feared he may lose some fingers due to blood loss.

Harry thought the headmaster simply had other problems. For one, Draco was bragging about
how his father was trying to get the other governors to remove Dumbledore from his position.
As his plans involved Dumbledore staying on as headmaster, Harry was simultaneously
happy and disturbed by the fact that the bragging soon turned into pouting when it became
obvious that the Malfoy patriarch didn’t even get close to a majority.
They didn’t hear much from the ministry, but Susan quietly informed them her aunt was
raising hell, even if she wasn’t getting anywhere with it quite yet. Fudge was blocking every
attempt to interview professors or Hogwarts students and Harry couldn't help but wonder
whether Dumbledore had instructed him to do so.

Maybe Rita would help both of them with their agenda, as she kept churning out one article
after the other. There had already been multiple questioning Dumbledore’s authority over
Harry’s placement with his relatives, but his favourite one was the article speculating about
Quirrell’s ability to teach DADA. The fact that he had taught muggle studies before was
repeatedly brought up, as was his stark personality shift after his travels and the fainting spell
in the troll bathroom. If the Defence teacher had stood by while two eleven-year-olds tackled
trolls, Hogwarts really was going to the dogs, was her conclusion. Thinking about Fluffy on
the third floor, whose presence had yet to be revealed, Harry couldn’t agree more.

He mostly found it hilarious, though. Quirrell certainly didn’t, as evidenced by the dark looks
he was receiving.

That’s why he had expected the assassination attempt - but at the same time, he had hoped he
would get a break from it this time. He also didn’t know what it was with Voldemort and
quidditch games. He must really hate the sport.

The first quidditch match of the new year was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. The Claws had a
really good team this year, as evidenced by the fact that they had absolutely trounced the
Hufflepuffs in November. Harry had sat with Susan and Hannah for that one, though he had
still worn his Slytherin scarf. No matter what anyone else said, he still had some house pride
left. Not enough to not console his badger friends during their defeat, though. With it being
Cedric’s first year as a seeker, Harry couldn’t even blame him for it. Neither, luckily, had the
badgers. That meant Susan and Hannah were slightly vengeful, however, and definitely
rooting for the snakes this time.

They still hadn’t dared to brave the Slytherin stand, so Harry found himself bracketed by
Blaise and Theo. The rest of his year-mates were close and cheering for the team. Lily Moon
had a book with her, but she was still there, even though quidditch didn’t seem to be her
thing.

The match was going decently. Slytherin was up by 20 points, Madam Hooch had only called
three of Flint’s half dozen fouls and Cedric seemed to be no wiser as to where the snitch was
than Higgs.

Harry was suddenly thrown right into a flashback, but this time it was one year early. One of
the bludgers turned, swerving around Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick who both tried to
get it with their bats.

And then it came straight at Harry.

There was a moment of startled disbelief as the people around him stared at the nearing
bludger. Then Harry dived over the barrier right behind him just before the iron ball could
smash into it.

He wasn’t exactly surprised. Not even angry. He was just… tired.

Not tired enough to let himself be smashed, though, so he quickly dove to the side again
when the bludger came back for him and turned the wooden stand where Harry had just been
lying into firewood. There were screams all around him and more people taking cover. He got
a glance at Blaise shouting something and Theo’s wide eyes, then Harry was moving again to
avoid the next attack.

He ran along the balustrade, then up the stairs to reach the highest part of the stadium, trying
to avoid any other students he came across. A part of him wanted to seek cover amidst the
other children, but he refused to let anyone else get hurt.

A wooshing sound behind him, Harry ducked and slid down a few of the steps again before
jumping over the gaping hole the bludger had left and sprinting on. He was suddenly very
glad for his still daily jogging sessions along the Black Lake.

“Duck!”, someone yelled from the side and he once again flattened himself against the
ground as the enchanted ball whizzed over his head, only to slow down, turn around, and aim
at him again.

He didn’t try to find whoever had warned him, just waited for the ball to turn, avoided it
again, and then continued running towards the teacher’s stand. This had been so much easier
on a broom, he thought as he heard the whooshing sound behind him yet again.

None of his spells would be able to do much against this thing. A protego might help him
against one attack; after all it had stood against a swing from a troll club, but would drain his
magic too fast. A diffindo wouldn’t cut it (har har), a reducto or blasting curse might, but
Harry had only had the time to learn one or two upper-year spells and the shield charm and
summoning charm had seemed more important. If only he’d learned the banishing one
instead.

“Finite incantatem!”

Nope. He wasn’t that lucky, of course. He was also still too far away from the teacher’s stand.
Not that he was sure they would help. Only the people he had run past so far had even
seemed to notice his predicament, too focused on the game.

“Immobolus!”

The bludger still came for him. If the next spell didn’t work, he’d have to continue the
dodging game.

“Flipendo!”

Harry should have known. Nobody ever seemed to guard against first-year-spells. Thus, the
spell did exactly what it was designed to do and pushed back the heavy object it was directed
at. There was a loud bang and the bludger suddenly reversed course to be blasted over the top
of the quidditch stadium and towards the Forbidden Forest.

Harry turned to run on; of course it wouldn’t last, but at least he had something now.

He hurried on, keeping an eye and ear out for the bludger that had taken a liking to him. It
came back a few times, but was always knocked back with the only jinx that seemed to work.
It took a bit of the urgency out of the situation, at least, and Harry settled into a calm jog,
making sure no students were ever in the line of fire.

By the time he made it to the teacher’s stand, he was starting to feel the drain on his magic.
While the knock-back spell was taught in first year, Harry was using it on a rogue bludger
that had quite a lot of momentum, and multiple times at that.

Professor Flitwick was at the very top of the stand, sitting on a stack of pillows to be able to
look right over his colleague’s heads. He was wearing a Ravenclaw scarf that almost dwarfed
him and was waving a little flag in bronze and blue. Next to him was Professor Sprout, then
Professor Sinistra. Harry could also see Professor McGonagall, Professor Babbling, Hagrid
could not be overlooked, and there, in the middle, was Snape, sitting right next to Quirrell.

“Um… Excuse me? Professor Flitwick?” Harry decided to go for the safe option.

It took another two tries until the man turned around, blinking, and slightly confused at being
interrupted.

“Mr Evans-Potter? What is…”

Just then, Harry heard the tell-tale wooshing sound.

“Flipendo!”, he shouted yet again at the bludger, which was thrown over the side of the
stadium yet again. “I’ve got a small problem.” He indicated the direction he had just knocked
the iron ball.

The professor blinked at him. Then he looked towards where the bludger had just reversed its
course to come right back at him. Then he looked at Harry again.

The whooshing sound got louder.

“Oh!”, he squeaked.

A few of the strands from the scarf got tangled in his wand as he tried to pull it out, but he
got it out eventually. Harry had his wand at the ready just in case and pointed at the bludger.
That proved to be a good idea because the thing was incredibly fast. And then he had one of
his reckless urges again.

To be fair, most of them hadn’t had any consequences yet. Harry gave in. He carefully aimed
at the bludger.

“…Professor Flitwick…?” There was a note of panic in his voice now, albeit carefully
crafted. “I’m not sure how much magic I have left - flipendo!”
This time, he hit the bludger at an angle, being very glad his personal training sessions had
included practising how to aim. The characteristic bang sounded, it veered off to the side just
slightly and instead sailed over their heads - and came down right in the middle of the
professor’s stand.

Harry didn’t see where exactly it impacted because there was suddenly a lot of scrambling
and shouting involved. He hoped it had been close to Quirrell. Either way, it was their own
fault for never paying attention; Harry was just giving them a small taste of what he was
experiencing.

“Oh dear.”

That was Professor Flitwick who had finally untangled his wand and was now pointing at the
bludger that was rising up from the debris and coming at them yet again.

“Incarcerous!”

Long ropes wrapped themselves tightly around the struggling ball, pulling it down towards
the floor and keeping it in that position. It was still trying to escape and Flitwick frowned at
it.

That wasn’t necessarily the spell Harry had expected, but definitely a good choice if you
didn’t want to rain debris onto any of the surrounding people - and it left room for taking
whatever enchantments had been made off the bludger to find out what had happened and
possibly make it usable again.

“I’ve already tried finite incantatem and immobolus”, Harry informed the professor. “So
don’t expect them to work.”

While the rest of the staff reorganised themselves and the rest of the school was staring at
them, the Charms professor cast spell after spell at the still struggling ball, his frown
intensifying.

“Filius, what is going on?”

The Scottish lilt identified Professor McGonagall. Her hair was a bit ruffled and her hat
askew and she was staring at the bludger that was wrapped in ropes.

“This bludger was tampered with. It was going after Mr Evans-Potter, who fended it off until
he could make it to us.”

“Mr…” Her head swivelled around until her eyes landed on Harry. “Are you alright, lad?”

At least someone asked. Finally. “A bit magically depleted, but it didn’t get me. I’m so glad I
learned the knockback jinx. Whoever enchanted that thing warded it against a few others I
tried, but that one worked.”

“This was protected very well indeed”, Flitwick announced. “If it was a student, they deserve
a passing grade in DADA, Transfiguration and Charms along with the expulsion.”
“What do you mean, if?” That was Snape’s drawling voice, although the man himself looked
a bit ruffled too.

A bit as if someone had fallen on top of him, Harry privately thought, grinning in his mind.

“I mean that it’s very unlikely this was done by a student. It’s much too complex. Quirinius,
what do you think?”

The grin wanted to morph into full-blown laughter at the irony and Harry had trouble keeping
it together. Quirrell himself suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I-i-I c-c-can t-take a l-l-look…”

His turban was askew and there seemed to be a tear in his robe. Ha! At least someone had
gotten him good. Harry’s money was on Hagrid’s umbrella tip and he made a mental note to
visit the giant soon, if only to thank him for this one.

Quirrell also started casting at the bludger, but Harry didn’t expect anything true to come out
of that one.

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, checking on the other quidditch balls to see whether there is
foul play involved with those?”, he asked.

Flitwick froze, a menacing expression suddenly on his face. He pushed up his sleeves, then
stalked off towards Madam Hooch, who was hovering close to the stand on her broom. Her
mouth was drawn into a thin line as well.

“The game has been suspended for as long as it takes to check the rest of the material for
tempering! We will inform you when it can start up again.”

So they’d continue. Not that Harry was surprised.

“Can’t I go one month at Hogwarts without anyone or anything trying to kill me? Seriously,
people! What kind of school are you running here?!”, he rounded on Professor McGonagall,
who was standing the closest.

Ah. There was the anger. But he felt it was very much warranted.

“I… To be honest, Mr Evans-Potter, I don’t quite know what to say, except that we will take
this incident very seriously and investigate it thoroughly. Now. Off to Madam Pomfrey with
you.”

“What? Why…”

“Mr Evans-Potter, you just ran around the whole stadium casting knockback jinxes
continuously. Your magical core may be strong for your age, but I will not have you keel over
on my watch. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey would agree.”

She would, at that. Which meant Harry quickly gave up and was led to the sour-looking
matron who had her arms crossed.
“Here.”

She shoved a magic-replenishing potion at him which Harry eyed questioningly.

“I keep some on hand. Teenage witches and wizards are…”

“Say no more.”

Harry downed the potion and admitted that he did feel a little better immediately. Then again,
this was nothing compared to the Dursley Disaster and the Troll Incident.

…he had far too many capitalised near death experiences in his past. The Bludger Issue
would probably join a long line of them.

“No strenuous magic for at least the rest of the weekend.” She eyed him critically. “Also, 5
points to Slytherin for, yet again overcoming the odds.”

“Can you do that? Give points, I mean?”

Madam Pomfrey cocked her head to one side before a sly smile spread across her face. “I do,
but usually I don’t give or detract points. I’m there for everybody equally. For the ones who
have accidents, the ones who got hit by spells, the ones who instigated the incidents…
professors, students from all houses… it makes no difference to me. I am trying my very best
to be unbiased. And sometimes, when the other professors lose sight of the smaller things in
the big picture, I… correct things. Like I correct broken bones.”

“Thank you for both, Madam Pomfrey.”

“You’re welcome. At least you listen to me.”

They had spent a whole afternoon together, going over his medical history. Petunia had, of
course, given her permission for a medical examination and any magical vaccinations that
Harry may need. Harry had come home from Christmas with the permission slip. As far as he
knew, the letter exchange between his aunt and Madam Pomfrey still sporadically continued,
however, as the matron had seemed to take a liking to his aunt and had started instructing her
in medicinal herbs and easy potions and poultices.

What Madam Pomfrey had found during his examination had put a cold sparkle in her eyes -
right before she had started plying him with potions and put him on a strict regime, enforced
by the castle’s house elves. Harry had asked, but not complained about it all - after all, the
prospect of possibly correcting some of the damage done in his childhood years was
intriguing. She even said he may grow a few inches taller than he would have otherwise and
while Harry felt he had done okay in the possible future, he’d take every advantage he could
get, even additional height.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that I want to try out for the quidditch team next year?”,
Harry said.

The woman harrumphed and looked him up and down. “Then I better hear you’re staying on
your potions regime and you come to me for a checkup before you even think about
applying, Mr.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.”

She gave him another once-over, then bussled off, probably to check on some of the
professors who had been bowled over. Funny enough, she didn’t seem too bothered with
them.

Everyone was back on their - magically repaired - seats just in time for Madam Hooch to
declare all other balls curse-free, get a backup bludger and let the game continue. Professor
Flitwick insisted on Harry staying by his side, so he spent the rest of the Slytherin vs
Ravenclaw match sandwiched between the Charms Professor and Professor Sprout, who also
seemed to take the Hufflepuff loss rather personally and was rooting for Slytherin, much to
Harry’s delight.

When he finally got back to his friends - after being marched to the castle with the same
bodyguards he’d had the rest of that day - they were looking very worried indeed.

“Where were you?”, complained Blaise, looking him up and down and then, after having
made sure he had no injury, smacking his shoulder. “We were worried sick! There’s a rogue
bludger going after you and you just take off!”

“I went to the professors and they subdued the bludger.”

“So that was the commotion”, Theo mused. “Explains a lot. And you probably got them to
check out the other balls too?” He noticed his confused expression and smiled. “They
probably wouldn’t have done it otherwise, if I had to guess.”

It was kind of sad that they had already realised this as eleven-year-olds. And yet another
tally against the Hogwarts staff, as far as he was concerned.

“Now I guess we try to figure out who else wants to kill you?”, Blaise asked. “Is it Travers
again?”

“If he’s lost his magic by tomorrow, then yes”, said Theo. “If no - and he may be dumb, but
he’s not that stupid and the public would hang him - then it’s someone else.”

Theo was still rather quiet usually, and this was the most Harry had heard him say in two
months.

“Flitwick doesn't think it was a student.”

The other two stared at him. Theo blinked. Blaise’s mouth was hanging open.

“Come again?”

“The enchantments on the bludger were far too complicated to have been done by a student.
Or it has to be a true prodigy.”
“So… a professor wants to kill you?”, Blaise asked. “Or is it an older student after all?
Someone who snuck onto the school grounds during the quidditch game?”

Harry shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t get involved.”

“Why.”

Blaise’s comment didn’t even seem to be a question and more an accusation.

“Because it’s very likely either a Death Eater, or the Dark Lord himself. And I doubt any
Slytherin would want to get involved in that mess.”

Harry was eyeing Theo, who blanched and ducked his head, then narrowed his eyes and
looked Harry up and down.

“The Dark Lord is dead.”

“Mmh. So they say. I find myself unconvinced.” Harry tugged them towards the castle, safe
in the knowledge that they were walking far away from anyone else who might overhear.

“You call him the Dark Lord”, Blaise noted.

“Yes. Sometimes I don’t find Voldemort-” They both flinched “-a name I want to call him.
Apart from the taboo and everything. And I think Tom Riddle doesn’t really fit, do you? A
dark lord called Tom? I can see why he changed his name.”

“Tom Rid-… the Dark Lord’s name is Tom Riddle??” Blaise gaped. “Where on earth did you
find that information?”

“I’ve never heard of a Riddle family…” Theo looked thoughtful and slightly frightened.

“If you ever want to serve him, you might want to cover your ears now”, Harry said.

Both just gave him an incredulous look.

“What? I’m not dumb. A lot of Slytherins grew up with Death Eater parents. And if he ever
comes back, and with the way Slytherins are treated in general, I wouldn’t be surprised if
they and others join him again.”

Seeing the fear in their eyes grow stronger, Harry abandoned that line of conversation for
now.

“Anyway. If you’re ever in his vicinity and don’t want him to kill you the moment he sees
into your minds, you definitely don’t want to know what you just asked me.”

Theo and Blaise exchanged a look and Harry looked away. This wasn’t his decision to make.
It wasn’t even his conversation to barge in on.

“Tell me”, Blaise decided, a sparkling in his eyes. “The Zabinis were always neutral and
strong enough to stay that way.”
“I want to know.” Harry gave Theo a look. “I have to know what I’m doing. What I’m
choosing between. Who I’m choosing.”

“Alright then.”

How an assassination attempt during a quidditch match turned into Harry telling them
Voldemort’s worst-kept secret, he had no idea. The two of them got rather quiet when Harry
told them about the Slytherin prefect-turned-Dark-Lord. He also explained his knowledge
away by saying he stumbled on it in the library and then deliberately looked up more.
Spending so much time there was so useful for multiple covers that he didn’t know how he’d
survived the last time - not to mention the amount of interesting things you could actually dig
up.

He had looked up Voldemort, actually. Even with Susan and Hannah studying with him a few
times a week, he’d still had lots of time to find things they might not be completely on board
with. And Harry had found some things about Tom Marvolo Riddle - his name, for one,
which meant he could use the anagram thing as an excuse too. Teenage dark lords and their
dramatics, seriously. He had also gotten his hands on some newspaper articles.

“So he’s…”

“A half-blood”, Blaise finished Theo’s mumbled sentence. “And not even one with a
muggleborn parent, but one with a muggle parent”, he summed it up. There was a pause.
“Wow.”

“Yup. And I’m pretty sure about it all. The timeline makes sense. I even found the newspaper
article about Morfin Gaunt killing one Tom Riddle. Senior, that is.”

“But that means…” Theo swallowed. “My father-” He cut off and looked at Harry guiltily.

“I know your dad’s a Death Eater. Grandfather too, probably. He was in Hogwarts during
Tom Riddle’s time after all.”

“So you really meant it when you told Travers you didn’t judge people by their parents?”

It was supposed to be a statement, but Harry could hear the question mark at the end of the
sentence clear as day. He could also hear the underlying hope in the boy’s voice and it made
something in his heart constrict.

“If I can be friends with my cousin, whose father, may I remind you, was recently heavily
featured in that article, I can be friends with anyone. I don’t care who your parents are. If you
want to be my friend and you mean it…” He shrugged. “Of course I understand that it’s
going to be difficult for you no matter what, Theo. So I don’t expect too much.”

“Thank you.” That was barely a whisper and Blaise knocked his shoulder into the other boy,
then gave him a grin.

“Told you he’s crazy in a good way.”

At least it worked and Theo smiled, although it soon was replaced by a frown. “That means
my father was lied to. They all were. All the talk about purebloods being the superior ones,
all the politics to restrict muggleborn rights, all the fighting and… why? If he was…”

“From what I gathered, he loathed his father and muggle family. So he distanced himself
from them, lied about their existence, his own origins… That this sort of agenda sat well with
his purebloos house mates was a benefit of course. Don’t ask me to delve into the mind of the
Dark Lord. I’m pretty sure he was insane by the end.”

“What makes you think so?”

He had already opened his mouth, but closed it when he realised that he probably shouldn’t
throw information like this around will-nilly. He definitely wouldn’t mention horcruxes. If
everything went like he wanted it to, he would never have to mention those to anyone. He
had just about told them Voldemort had to have been insane to go after a toddler, but then
realised most people still thought he had gone after his parents. And the former only made
sense with the prophecy in mind.

“I can’t tell you just now.”

The other two exchanged a glance, but said nothing more. Harry released a breath and
noticed his shoulders relaxing.

“How did we even get here?” Blaise raked a hand through his hair. “This conversation is
crazy.”

“Someone wants to kill me”, Harry reminded him.

“Oh. Right. That”, said Blaise.

“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

Theo just gave him a look. “That”, he decided “is not a good thing.”

As far as Harry could tell, nothing really came of the investigation into the bludger incident.
He had asked Professor Flitwick about it, but the man only seemed angry and at the same
time apologetic - and promised to keep an eye on Harry personally if they hadn’t uncovered
anything else by the time the next quidditch match came around.

Harry thought that was nice, but not really helpful in the big picture. After all, Quirrell could
just as well try to kill him some other time. Nothing happened during the next few weeks,
though; maybe to let the rumours die down. Harry had still dutifully written to Mr Lloyd to
tell him about his newest near-death-experience to add to any case they might start against
Hogwarts.

Still, he had to admit it was kind of nice to have Professor Sprout sit in the middle of the
Hufflepuff student stand, just because Harry had decided to sit with Susan and Hannah for the
Huffepuff-Gryffindor match at the beginning of March. She may not be as fanatic about
quidditch as some other teachers (McGonagall coming to mind), but she still enthusiastically
supported her team, although drawing confused looks from the students sitting around her.

“Oh, I forgot how much fun it was to be surrounded by cheering students! I haven’t sat here
in ages. And the other professors can be so dour”, she muttered to Harry during a time-out.
“Then again, if I have reason to celebrate, they usually don’t, so I can’t entirely blame them.”

“Just come over for a few matches then”, Hannah said. “We’d love to have you here!”

Both Susan and Hannah had, of course, heard about the bludger incident. By the end of that
February evening, everyone had, reall; the Hogwarts rumour mill was doing its work. Like
Blaise and Theo, they were mostly worried about Harry and the lack of reaction from the
staff, though.

“At least there’s no rogue bludgers so far”, muttered Susan, right on cue.

“Yes, that was very concerning.” The ever-cheerful Professor Sprout looked troubled at the
thought. “And we still haven’t found out who could have done it.”

“Have you considered it may have been a teacher?” She looked at Harry as if he was insane,
but he decided to steamroll over her protests. “If you can’t find anything, it may be because
the person who did it is involved in the investigation in the first place.”

“…I really don’t want to think of my colleagues like that… Mr Evans-Potter, an accusation
like that… It’s preposterous!”

“I understand. And I am sorry I brought it up. But I still stand by it. I also don’t want to
consider the notion that a professor may have been responsible, but I have to. I don’t have the
luxury to trust people only for them to stab me in the back.”

All three of them were staring at him now.

“That’s a very sad outlook on life”, Hannah said.

Harry shrugged. “It keeps me alive. I’ve already been attacked by students from my own
house, other houses, and a fully grown mountain troll. I can’t not consid- why are you
grinning, Susan?”

The girl had a wistful smile on her face and started to giggle. “I’m sorry. It’s not really
appropriate at all, but… you reminded me of my aunt’s old mentor just now and I imagined
you with a peg leg.” She laughed again. “He’s called Mad-Eye Moody and scared me to
death when I was a kid by screaming Constant Vigilance! in my face all the time.”

Oh god. He was starting to sound like Moody. What had the world come to.

“All I’m saying is, no matter what we want to believe, we have to consider all the
possibilities. And that a professor did it is a possibility.”

“I still don’t want to believe it, Mr Evans-Potter, but I will look into it”, promised Professor
Sprout.
“Ask Professor Flitwick about it. He seems to follow that line of investigation”, Harry
suggested.

That was the best he was going to get and Harry accepted it with nary a grimace. Instead, he
shared some of the muggle sweets he had just gotten from his aunt with her, as well as the
other Hufflepuffs in the general vicinity.

They had welcomed him back with open arms as soon as Susan and Hannah had made it
clear that any danger of associating with Harry had long passed. Some, like Ernie and Justin,
had even apologised. Harry had waved it all away and continued sitting at their table and
laughing and joking. But it would be a while until he considered any of them friends rather
than simple acquaintances.

But yet another seed was planted that painted Quirrell in a suspicious light.

Besides, Harry tided himself over by releasing another rumour into the general student
population. Quirrell running an illegal dragon breeding ring may be slightly unbelievable, but
closer to the truth than anyone might think.

Despite the protests of Susan and Hannah, as well as Blaise and Theo, Harry still tried to
spend some time alone to practice wandless magic, casting with his left and doing any
research he didn’t want the others knowing about, but was mostly restricted to doing it in the
safety of his own bed or the dorm room when it was empty. The four had decided that
someone should be with him at all times, if only to run off to find a teacher if he was being
attacked by anyone or anything.

Harry’s protests that someone would always be out to kill him and they couldn’t stay with
him 24/7 just got a deadpan stare from Susan and the comment “watch us”.

Even Neville had been roped into it eventually and was, red-faced and puffing like the
Hogwarts Express, following him on his morning runs. Harry privately thought it was
because the Hufflepuff girls and Slytherin boys didn’t fancy an early-morning workout and
Neville couldn’t say no - but his friend was nothing if not determined. Harry even managed
to convince him to fire sparks at him that Harry tried to dodge - Neville always seemed
happy that the running, at least, stopped.

That meant apart from the issue of the portrait snakes watching his every step, he now had a
following of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins and one lonely Gryffindor sticking to him like glue.
The Room of Requirement was definitely out of the question - even though Harry thought he
might finally know what was up with the vanishing cabinet. He wasn’t able to go to it
directly - and Kreacher popping it to the dorm room was just too dangerous - but he had
copied all the runes onto a piece of parchment and had been pouring over it continuously for
months.

His friends were slightly weirded out by it, but apart from the occasional comment how runes
would only start up in third year and Hannah asking ahead of time if he would help her study
for it then, they didn’t say much about it. Apparently they were used to his eccentricities by
now. Susan had asked at one point how the runes didn’t activate on the parchment, which had
launched Harry into an hour-long diatribe on runes blocking the sequence from working and
how it was the first thing you learned to do, so you could put it in front of any runes you
wrote down. After that, nobody had dared to ask about anything else.

Harry had, however, finally managed to figure out that one of the runic sequences that was
activated shouldn’t be, which led to the apple slicing and general non-working of the cabinet.
As far as he’d been able to guess without actually trying to make the sequence dormant and
activating the correct one, that was. You could always see the runes that were activated, but
there were some invisible ones you could turn on, so to speak, if you knew where they were.

Today’s project was figuring out where exactly the runes were, so that Harry could tap them
with his wand and switch how the cabinet worked, so he was buried under the usual books
about vanishing cabinets that he’d become very familiar with since September.

“Er… Harry?” Hannah’s voice was hesitant and slightly scared and made Harry look up
immediately.

Sir Nicholas had just floated through one of the adjacent bookshelves and was basically
breathing on Hannah’s neck.

“Oh! Apologies, young lady. I was looking for Harry.”

“Sir Nicholas…?”

Harry was slightly confused because while the ghost had remained friendly after their last
interaction and had often nodded at him from the Gryffindor table - much to the confusion
and ire of its occupants - he hadn’t approached him of his own accord.

“I offered to organise an interview with the Bloody Baron, didn't I? He just agreed to it, but
said it has to be now, or he might change his mind.” The ghost looked slightly affronted at
that. “I told him, of course, that it was bad manners to not give notice earlier, but his mind
could not be changed.”

Harry had to digest that information for a bit, but Nick kept waiting patiently.

“Blaise?”, he finally asked.

“Don’t look at me. I was on board with the other ghost interviews, but the Bloody Baron?
Really? Besides, I’ve got to finish this Potions essay, or Snape will have my hide.”

“We have Transfiguration tomorrow.” Hannah bit her lip. “Sorry. We can’t all write our
essays in record time.”

Susan nodded her agreement, although she looked put-off by the development.

Harry usually finished his essays first, apart from Neville’s Herbology essays because the boy
didn’t even seem to need books for his assignments. Said boy was staring at him terrified.

“I-I… d-don’t want to s-see the Bloody Baron”, he stuttered.

The stutter had continuously gotten better since Halloween and the return of it proved how
scared Neville was.

“Then I’m going alone.”

“Harry, no! Someone still has it out for you!”, said Hannah.

“Hannah, you feel up to walking up to the classroom and doing your homework outside of
it?”, asked Susan

“It’s in the dungeons, close to the Slytherin common room…”, Nick said.

The two Huffelpuffs exchanged a Look. Harry didn’t think anyone in Slytherin was dumb
enough to attack people who were known to be his friends after the troll thing, but half of the
the dungeons were still snake territory and you could never be sure.

“We’ll continue in our common room, that way we’re closer and can walk part of the way
with you.”

“I promise to keep young Harry safe”, said Sir Nicholas while puffing out his chest. When
Blaise looked him up and down critically, he deflated a bit. “If all else fails, I can get a
professor.”

“Go for Professor Flitwick, or Professor Sprout”, instructed Susan.

Harry had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. It was that, or let the fond smile out that
wanted to creep into his features.

“I’ll go straight to dinner afterwards, alright? I promise to see you there.”

“If you don’t, we’ll send out the cavalry”, Hannah said.

It was kind of adorable how they all tried so hard to protect him. That they didn’t trust the
professors to do their job was half amusing, half concerning.

“You have very good friends”, Sir Nicholas said.

“The best.”

During the rest of their way, Sir Nicholas kept complaining about Peeves, which Hannah and
Susan dutifully supported and which actually gave Harry some decent ideas for pranks. Part
of his mind, however, was already on the conversation with the Baron.

How much would the Slytherin ghost tell him? He usually wasn’t a man of many words,
preferring to rattle his chains or moan while haunting the Astronomy tower. Harry had
noticed that even the other ghosts tended to stay away from him, although the house ghosts
seemed to see it as their duty to relay information both ways. None of them seemed to know
why he was bloody or how he had died. And when Harry had interviewed the Grey Lady, she
hadn’t told him her real name, nor the story about the diadem, nor that it was the Baron who
had killed her.
After reaching the dungeons, Hannah and Susan gave him one last look, then trudged off
towards the kitchen and, thus, the Hufflepuff common room. Nick motioned towards the
Slytherin side of the dungeon.

“You’ve certainly shaken things up around here”, the ghost finally said to fill the silence.

“That’s kind of the point. Thing need to be shaken up.”

Nick paused and looked at him, his expression serious for once. “Was all of that true? In the
newspaper articles? I read it over some Gryffindor’s shoulders…”

“Oh yes. It was all true.”

“Then I’m glad Minerva gave Albus the tongue-lashing of the century”, the ghost muttered.

“…could you expand on that?”

The ghost looked slightly guilty, but the gossip seemed to be too good to keep in. “I once
floated in on them having a… discussion. Though it was mostly Minerva screaming at him.
Something along the lines of A cupboard, Albus! You said he’d be safe! And then the
hedamaster said something about it having been and still being the safest place for you from
the death eaters and Voldemort.”

“You’re saying his name?”

Sir Nicholas shrugged. “What can he do to me; I am already dead.”

That was a fair point. “What then?”

“She said It seems we should have protected him from his relatives instead! And then
continued to berate him. I figured it was a private conversation and excused myself.”

Harry was almost sad that the ghost was too polite even in death. But at least it seemed that
Dumbledore was getting flack from his own staff now.

Nick stayed silent the rest of the way, but soon led him to a room in the farthest parts of the
dungeons. Even Harry had never been here before - which just proved that, no matter how
well you knew Hogwarts, there was always something more to discover.

It seemed to be an old classroom, but must have been out of use long enough that not even
desks and chairs remained. The Bloody Baron was floating in one corner, face gaunt, eyes
staring into the distance. He was wearing his chains and the silvery blood was still splattered
all over his clothes.

“I’ll be outside to escort you back to the Great Hall for dinner.”

“Nick, you really don’t have to wait for me.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Besides, when you’re dead, time tends to lose meaning either way.
I will be just around the corner.” The Gryffindor ghost nodded at him once, then drifted
through the closed door.

Harry wondered whether he was just scared of Susan and Hannah’s reactions should he
abandon Harry. If anyone would find a way to punish a ghost, those two would - even if they
ended up setting the Fat Friar on him.

Harry looked around the room for some place to sit and ended up deciding the deep-set
window sill was the only available option. The stones were a bit cold, but he’d lived in the
dungeons long enough to be used to it by now.

“Baron?”

It took a moment for recognition to spark in his eyes, but the ghost soon turned his head
towards Harry. Being the recipient of a focused stare was even creepier than the usual vacant
one.

“Ah. Mr Evans-Potter.”

The ghost had a deep, raspy but still booming voice that seemed to reverberate from every
corner of the classroom. Harry had to suppress a shudder.

“Yes. Thanks for agreeing to talk to me. You’re one of the few ghosts I haven’t spoken to -
and you’re our house ghost, so that is unacceptable.” He paused. “Why did you want to talk
to me without my friends? You knew they wouldn’t be able to come today, didn’t you?”

A terrifying grin appeared on his face. “You caught that, then? Very promising.”

“They’ve been a bit… overprotective”, Harry said.

“For good reason, I’ve heard. Few ghosts go to the quidditch games - we’ve been told we’re
distracting the players.” He scoffed. “But news travels fast. As does the news of your ghostly
interviews. Nobody has shown that much interest in the ghosts of Hogwarts in decades.”

“Most people take you for granted.” Harry had never understood why and how. But maybe
growing up in the magical world desensitised you to a lot of things. Not that he’d had the
intention to be quite so thorough before needing a cover when confronted by Dumbledore.
“I’ve… also never heard you speak so much.”

“Isn’t the point of an interview to speak?”

“Er… yes.” This was going completely differently than he had thought. “So… what do you
feel comfortable telling me about your life, the time period you lived in, people you met,
your death…?”

“What I feel comfortable with?” The ghost sounded amused.

“Well. Not all ghosts are as enthusiastic about this as Myrtle. The Grey Lady, for example,
only told me she lived during the founders’ time, but very little about herself, her life, or her
death.”
“And you didn’t pry.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but Harry thought answering anyway was probably safer. “Of
course not. You’re still people. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you don’t have
feelings. Case in point: Myrtle.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he saw the Bloody Baron grin wryly.

“I lived during the founders’ time. I was taught by all four at Hogwarts and lived here until I
was sent after the woman I loved who had run away. I had a dangerous temper, however, and
when she refused to follow me home, I stabbed her.”

Even after all these centuries, Harry could hear the remorse in his voice.

“And then I stabbed myself for my sin. And still, I am wearing these chains in penitence and
will only ever take them off and remove the bloody stains if she forgives me my heinous
deeds.”

“Isn’t she… dead?”

The Baron just stared at him.

“Yes, okay, I figured it out.”

Another vicious smile was the answer. :I knew you would. You don’t plan that much and
survive that much in your very first year if you don’t have the brains to make connections.:

:It’s that or be seriously injured.:

:The hat told me what your decision was between. I asked him about you when I got
intrigued enough.:

:Well now I feel betrayed.:

:Like the hat, I am sworn to protect the students of Hogwarts and keep their secrets. And I am
especially looking after the Slytherin students. It is my duty. I could not look after the one I
loved in life, so I will at least do my duty to the school in death. Your secret is safe with me.:

There was some metallic clinking as the Baron bowed from the waist, long hair swinging
forward and then back when he stood back up.

:Thank you.:

:I know about the stone snakes too.:

:Uhhh…:

:Very resourceful, young snake. And as long as you simply use them to protect yourself and
not to spy on the girls…:
:I would never!:

Harry actually flinched when the Baron started shaking with a booming laugh that echoed
from the tiled stones.

:Very well.: He grinned, white teeth shining dangerously in the low candlelight. :Have you
figured out who I am, then?:, the ghost asked.

:…not particularly. I’ve poured over some books, but none ever call you by any other name
than the Bloody Baron.:

:This is by design.:

:Another part of your penance?:, guessed Harry.

:Indeed. I do not deserve my name.:

In his own way, Harry thought, the Slytherin house ghost was almost as melodramatic as
Myrtle.

:Are you going to tell me, or is that something else I have to figure out?:

:I’ve given you the biggest hint already, young snake. Let us talk again when you have
figured it out.: He paused. :The stone snakes will probably tell you either way, if you ask the
right questions.: With a last rattle of chains, the Baron tipped his hat. :Farewell and until
then.:

Before Harry could ask more or complain, the Slytherin ghost had glided through the nearest
wall and Harry was left alone in a draughty classroom.

:That was… strange:, he remarked to Mehen, who was finally allowed to poke his head out of
Harry’s sleeve.

:I kind of like him:, the snake said.

Harry stared at his familiar.

:What? He’s a snake too. Of course I like him.:

Harry thought. And thought some more. And then he cursed up a storm, though the hissing
made it sound like a swarm of descending locust.

:That bloody wanker had me talking in Parseltongue for half of the conversation!: Even his
brain couldn’t seem to decide whether to find it amusing, or be miffed about it. :I’ve given
you the biggest hint - god, I’m an idiot! He’s not only the Slytherin ghost, but he’s a
Slytherin.:

The pressure finally seemed to get to him and Harry found himself laughing so much that
tears ran down his cheeks.
:Oh Merlin. A son or nephew or whatever of Slytherin in love with the daughter of Rowena
Ravenclaw.:

Luckily, the Slytherin family tree was well-documented if you knew where to look, so
finding the Bloody Baron shouldn’t be too much of a hassle. If he ever recovered enough
from the humiliation to want to talk to the ghost again, that was.

:He got me good:, Harry explained, when Mehen still looked confused by the turn of events.
:Apparently, I still need to practice distinguishing Parsel from English. He managed to get
that secret out of me quickly enough. Not that me talking to the stone snakes wasn’t enough
of a give-away.:

Which meant the Baron was the first person (in a loose definition of the word) to find out that
particular secret. Apart from Dudley, of course. But it honestly could have gone worse. The
ghost seemed to be on his side for now, and it was unlikely any of the legilimens in the
school would manage to read his mind, or would even want to. Ghosts tended to be ignored.

:I still like him.: That sounded almost snarky, but Harry decided to ignore it.

:Yes, me too. I think.:

Even though, when they met next, Harry would have to keep his wits about him. And try not
to be quite as intimidated.

Since he had gotten the map, Harry had made a habit of looking at it before he went to bed,
mostly to reassure himself that Quirrell wasn’t trying to go for the stone that night.

He also liked talking to the remnants of the Marauders that had been bound to the artefact.
They may be forever frozen in their teenage forms, but it still had a sort of calming effect on
Harry to watch the four of them happily bicker back and forth and at him.

His dad’s main topic of conversation was Lily Evans and it seemed Harry was the only one
who never got tired of it. Harry loved hearing more about their rivalry at school, James’
desperate and mostly hilariously dumb attempts to woo her and all the little things that made
her so attractive to him.

Funnily enough, his second favourite topic was complaining about Snape and it was funny to
watch the other three rib him about that one.

It was a bit sad at the same time. His dad wasn’t really his dad yet, after all, having not even
gotten together with his mum by the time he had locked a copy of his personality in the
parchment. Peter Pettigrew didn’t have any thoughts of betraying his friends. Remus Lupin
didn’t seem as down-trodden as Harry remembered him to be. And seeing Sirius this carefree
made his heart hurt.

Harry still talked to them. After all, this was possibly the most that was left of his father in
this world.
Besides, the Marauders had some great pranking ideas that Harry immediately shared with
the twins - and they instructed him in some extra features that only worked for those who’d
had a hand in creating the map, or direct blood relatives.

After a week or so of using the map more often, Harry was sure Quirrelmort still didn’t know
how to get past Fluffy because Harry hadn’t changed much regarding Hagrid and the half-
giant didn’t have a dragon. Yet. And Harry had a few ideas what to do about it should it
happen again, but definitely wasn’t looking forward to that ordeal.

Sometimes, the possessed DADA professor was lurking around the third corridor, but not
quite daring to go through the door. Sometimes he was even caught by Snape and
subsequently sent back to his quarters. That’s where he spent most of his nights, of course, so
it was where Harry usually found the man when he opened his map.

Not today, however.

The next place he looked was, of course, Fluffy’s room. But that was empty as well.

Maybe he was doing rounds today? There was usually at least one teacher on duty, making
sure no students were out of bed. But Wednesdays were never Quirrell’s days and the more
Harry scanned the map in vain, the more his heart was beating and his hands were sweating
and - there!

A tiny dot was moving on the grounds, having just made its way past Hagrid’s garden patch.
It was labelled Quirinius Quirrell and was marching straight towards the Forbidden Forest.

Going after unicorns, then. The possession had probably weakened the body of the professor
enough by now that unicorn blood was a necessity. He should have known it had started
earlier than even Hagrid had known. He played with the thought of trying to save them for a
minute, but discarded the idea and pushed the urge down.

“I can’t save everyone”, he muttered, trying to make it a mantra. “And I promised Aunt
Walburga not to go after Dark Lords.”

:Harry? Why do you want to go after Dark Lords?: Mehen was looking out from under his
pillow.

:I don’t. That’s what I was saying. I can try to warn Hagrid, if I find a way to make myself
look less suspicious. But no matter how much of a shame it is that Quirrell is going after
unicorns now, I can’t save everyone.:

He’d still feel bad enough about it, of course, but that didn’t change his decision. Instead,
Harry pulled the blanket he had thrown off himself over his legs and settled back against the
wall, watching the dot disappear into the forest.

Harry’s working theory on the name thing was easy: Voldemort’s spirit was simply not there
enough to show up on the map. After all, he was less than a ghost, and had to share Quirrell’s
body. Maybe in moments when Quirrell’s mind was taken over by him, the map would show
Tom Marvolo Riddle. But like this…
 The forest wasn’t on the map apart from the first few metres of it, so the marker was soon
gone. Harry wasn’t about to sit here all night, waiting up for a possessed defence teacher, so
he started folding the map up - when something else caught his eye.

There were other dots moving about, of course. Professor Sinistra was doing rounds on the
fourth floor at the moment, while Filch and Mrs Norris were patrolling the ground floor just
next to the Great Hall and working their way up to the first floor. Some ghosts were also
floating about, like the Bloody Baron, who was haunting the Astronomy Tower yet again, and
Sir Nicholas near Gryffindor Tower.

Two dots, however, did not belong.

Harry was out of his bed within seconds, throwing a black robe over his pyjamas and slipping
into his dragon hide boots. His wand was already on his wrist.

:Harry! What’s going on?!: Mehen was poking his head out of the curtains now.

:I’ve gotta go, no time-:

:Take me with you!:

He hesitated just a second, but quickly ran back to the bed to scoop up Mehen, snatching up
his scarf while he was at it. He didn’t have time to argue, so this was easier.

The map was still in his hands and Harry didn’t even stop or hide, only throwing the
invisibility cloak over himself and running full-pelt out of the common room. He barely
checked to make sure his way was clear from teachers, caretakers and ghosts and was soon
hurrying across the grass in front of the school. Mehen was wrapped around his arm, but
wasn’t asking questions.

He couldn’t remember how often he’d walked this exact path, so Hagrid’s hut was soon
looming out of the darkness. No lights were twinkling in the windows, but Harry still thought
about knocking on the door. But then he’d have to argue with him, and explain how he knew,
and… It would take too long.

Harry ran on and was soon standing just shy of the treeline.

:I thought you said you didn’t want to go after dark lords…?:, Mehen said.

:I don’t particularly want to. But I think I have to.:

And with that, he took the first step into the thick foliage, right where he had seen the dots of
Fred and George Weasley disappear into the forest - just a few feet from where Quirrell had
entered it just five minutes earlier.

Chapter End Notes

That’s been my head canon for years. The Baron being a Slytherin. I have no idea where
it came from, but I decided I just had to go with it.

Update on the job interview situation - that went so well that the contract should be
drafted as we speak. 😁

Also, sorry for the delay this week. I've had a 15-hour train odyssey from hell yesterday,
with trains filled to the brim, bad internet and everything going wrong that could go
wrong.
Answering comments might be a bit slow today as well because I've stupidly gone on
yet another train journey to visit a friend. Fingers crossed this one goes better than the
other.
 Who wants to kill you the most?
Chapter Summary

There are some people after Harry. So far, nothing new.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

He’d had to take off the invisibility cloak just a few feet into the forest. He wasn’t sure yet
whether it could rip, but today wasn’t the day to find out.

:Why are you going after them?: Mehen was whispering now, something about the
atmosphere even quieting the inquisitive snake.

:It’s kind of my fault it happened. They gave me the map.:

He thought that was it, anyway. There was a possibility this had happened the first time too
and nothing had come of it. But last time, the twins had kept the map, and probably seen
Quirrell entering the forest and decided to stay inside for the night. This time…

Harry was cursing under his breath while still trying to make as little ruckus as possible.
Quirrell should have about a ten-minute head-start, the twins around five. But goddamn, this
forest was overgrown. The only reason why he still thought there was a chance he would
catch up to the twins was that he was currently trying to stay on the deer trail the twins had
obviously entered. Or was it a thestral trail? Unicorn trail?

Whatever usually walked here, it had left a small indent in the forest floor that Harry
followed religiously, often brushing low-hanging tree branches out of his path.

The wind was moving the treetops and the rustling muffled his steps some more. Down
where Harry was, however, it was like walking inside a bubble. There were only the shadowy
trees looming on either side, the crunching of the leaves under his feet, and over his head, the
raging wind. There was no moonlight tonight, so all Harry had was his own magic and he
barely had the tip of his wand glowing to light up the narrow path he was following.

The only comforting thing was Mehen wrapped around his arm, whispering reassurances
every once in a while when his heartbeat picked up at every imagined noise and sometimes
complaining about the branches brushing against him.

But still he hurried on, not caring one whit about the twigs scratching his face, although he
didn’t want to imagine what his face would look like tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey would have
a conniption.
Harry tried to calm his spiralling thoughts, but they kept drifting to anything and everything,
changing at every drumbeat of his feet. Then again, anything was better than thinking about
how fast his heart was beating, how his muscles were burning, his lung seeming to empty of
air… He had to reach them. He had to.

And then he ran around an old oak tree and suddenly collided with something.

Harry screamed, got tangled in whatever had stopped him, then went down. Something hit
him in the head, then the stomach and then someone was cursing into his ear.

“George?”, came Fred’s voice. A few steps sounded. Then “Harry?!”

Fred had his wand light trained on them, illuminating the tangle of limbs, cloaks and leaves.
Harry finally managed to roll away from George and got the elbow out of his stomach. There
were dirt stains on his trousers, most of the fabric was soaked through and he almost
regretted growing his hair out. Getting all the twigs and leaves out of it would be a
nightmare.

“What are you doing here?” Fred held out a hand and pulled him to his feet, then did the
same for his twin.

“Stopping you guys from being busted”, Harry grumbled. “Really? Really? I thought the deal
was that you’d ask me for the map if you ever had any outings planned! And then I see you
sneak off into the Forbidden Forest just about five minutes after bloody Quirrell!”

George, who had just spat out a strand of his own red hair, looked at him wide-eyed. “What.”

“Quirrell. He’s in here. And it might just be me, but I really don’t want to find out what he’s
doing.”

There was a gust of wind that penetrated the treetop barrier. Every single soaked-through area
of his body grew cold and Harry couldn’t suppress the shiver that started at his toes and
worked its way up right to his head.

“…you think he’s the one who…?”, began George.

The twins traded a look.

“…tried to kill you?”, whispered Fred.

How interesting that they’d jumped to that conclusion.

“Well… Process of elimination. None of the other professors make sense. I really doubt a
student is capable of it. And while Snape loathes me, he’s still professional, so… doubt it.
And that leaves Professor Quirrell. Who may act like an idiot, but I’ve caught him speaking
without his stutter before. And he is still the Defence professor, so letting a troll into the
school would be easier for him than anyone else, I bet.”

“You seem to have thought this through.”

“It’s my life on the line.” Harry shrugged. “Which brings me to you two. What were you
thinking? Why didn’t you ask for the map?”

“We’ve been in here since first year and nothing ever happened to us. Besides, we’ve got a
deal with the centaurs.”

“You didn’t mention that so far.”

George grinned at him. “Gotta keep some secrets.”

“Alright, let’s talk in the kitchen over hot chocolate or something. But please, let’s get out of
the woods where the guy who wants to kill me is running around doing Merlin knows what.”

“Fair point”, said George.

“Let’s go”, said Fred.

The twins soon had Harry sandwiched between them and were wearing uncharacteristically
grim faces. All of them were keeping their eyes and more so their ears out for unusual noises,
trying to make as little of a commotion as possible. Every hoot of an owl had George, who
was walking at the front, flinch while Fred was walking so close to Harry that he would have
sworn he could sometimes feel his friend’s breath on his neck. Both had their wands drawn
and their light dimmed way more than on the way in.

Harry was once again reminded how young they all were. Even Fred and George, who
seemed so grown-up to him (though, of course, never really growing up), were just about to
turn fourteen. And now they were sneaking around in a dark forest with a dark lord on the
loose.

There was no talking, just the sound of the wind blowing the tree tops back and forth and
their crunching footsteps. At one point, Harry thought he saw a shadow looming in the
darkness next to the path. But when he lifted his wand to shine a light on it, there was nothing
there. Still, the feeling of being watched persisted from that point on and had all the hairs of
his neck standing up.

Fred kept glancing to that side more often as well, which didn’t help Harry’s racing heart and
hitching breath. Mehen was tightening on his arm periodically and Harry could feel his
familiar’s tongue flicking out more and more often. If even the snake was scared…

They had walked just about long enough that Harry expected to see the end of the treeline up
ahead when Harry stopped so abruptly that Fred ran right into him.

“What…”

George had turned around as well, but before either of them could mutter one more word,
Harry yanked on both of their arms so hard they toppled right into the shrubbery next to them
along with him. When one of them took a breath that sounded like he wanted to say
something more, Harry clamped his hand over that twin’s mouth, then proceeded to pull both
of them deeper into the underbrush and behind a tree. The annoyance in their eyes soon
turned to fear when they caught a glimpse of Harry’s face.

They were all nestled in between thick, black roots now. Fred and George were on either side
of him. Nobody tried to speak anymore. Instead, everyone’s breath came in sharp, short
bursts as they tried to make no sound, tried not to move, tried not to think, even.

Harry thought about getting out the invisibility cloak out, but feared that any move he made
would make too much noise. When he heard the twin to the left of him whimper, though, he
carefully reached into his robe and Mehen, guessing what he wanted to do, helped push the
cloak towards his hand with his nose.

Soon, the fabric was in his hand, shimmering silver even in the by now non-existent light.
Harry just about caught the wide eyes of the twin to his right before throwing the cloak over
them all, then meticulously and quietly tugging it around them and into the roots. The only
reaction from the twins was an intake of breath, then continued silence.

They were squashed together even more now, not a millimetre left to move in, but rather than
feeling caged in, Harry revelled in the warmth radiating out from either side of him and the
feeling of his wand in his hand.

Harry had heard it once before, but the sound of a cloak dragging over leaves made a full-
body shudder run through him. Fred and George, pressed tightly against him, leaned in even
closer as if to shield him with their own bodies. They all held their breaths.

The person - and it definitely sounded like a person now - walked along the very path they
had just taken. Their footsteps were quiet, a cloak dragging behind them.

And then they stopped right next to the tree Harry and the twins were hiding behind.

Whoever was sitting to the left of him grabbed his hand and proceeded to squeeze it hard
enough that Harry could feel the twin’s pulse. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his
heart racing.

Then there were some steps again, soon muffled by leaves as the figure stepped off the trail
and past the bush Harry had dragged the twins through not a minute prior.

The only thing missing to complete the image was deep, rasping breath. Harry personally
thought hearing nothing but the howling wind was even creepier, as if the person wasn’t even
human. And maybe they weren’t. Voldemort certainly wasn’t, as far as Harry was concerned,
and what drinking unicorn blood would do to you… Though the time tonight shouldn’t have
been enough to hunt down and kill a unicorn.

He was glad he had listened to his gut because now the shadowy man was standing right next
to them. Without the invisibility cloak, they would have been found. Now, though, the person
was moving their hooded head around, scanning the underbrush, their gaze gliding over the
tree root that Harry and the twins were wedged in multiple times. They must be stronger than
the last time, as they weren’t crawling, but standing upright, still looking mostly unaffected
by the possession.
There was a twinging in his scar that felt as if the thing wanted to crawl right off his head.
Somewhere deep in his mind, Harry felt a stirring and the beginning of a dull sort of pain
trying to pound its way into his head. It felt like someone was trying to blow up one of those
inflatable rubber pool toys Dudley loved so much right in his skull. He pushed it all down,
putting up his mental shields as high and as strong as they would go.

There was still a sort of knowing in the darkest part of his mind. Even without his
foreknowledge, Harry would have known exactly who stood before him. Would have known
even with closed eyes or in complete darkness.

Down it all went, into the vault of his mind, along with all the thoughts of fear and running or
charging at the thing to press his hands against its face and watch it scream and wriggle in
agony and burn and burn and burn...

If the twins weren’t here, Harry may have been dumb enough to try and go for him anyway.
Even in this timeline, he should have his mother’s protection and be able to injure the man,
possibly kill him, most likely driving out Voldemort. But. Fred and George were there. And
Harry wasn’t going to risk it. Not with Quirrell not yet weakened enough by the continued
possession, like he had read in Blaise’s ghost book.

One second there were only black trees, the next, a centaur was standing right in front of
them. Harry felt more than saw the twins flinch, but luckily, so did the possessed professor.

There was a drawn bow aimed right at the figure’s hood, an arrow notched and ready to fly.
The centaur’s face was drawn in what might be concentration or absolute fury. His body was
covered with grey-speckled fur, tail twitching nervously, but muscular arms holding the bow
completely steady.

“You are not welcome here.”

There was a deep timbre in the voice that made something in Harry’s chest vibrate. It
loosened some of the tension in his shoulders, but he still kept clinging to whoever twin was
clutching his hand.

The dark figure took a step back.

“Leave this forest. This is your only warning. You are not welcome here.”

There was the tiniest of rustlings, then another centaur stepped out. His fur was as reddish-
brown as his beard and he also had a bow in his hands, though this one not yet drawn.

The cloaked person stepped back further. Then another step. And another. The shrub brushed
against him and then he was back on the trail.

The first centaur followed him, arrow still aimed straight at his head. There was the sound of
steps on dirt and the swishing of a cloak. Some sound of hooves drawing further away. And
then both the first centaur and the wraith were gone.

“You can come out now. You are safe.”

The second centaur was staring straight at them. He kept staring until Harry, with trembling
fingers, removed the cloak. Then he smiled at them.

“Good evening to you. Twins.” He paused. “Harry Potter.”

Harry didn’t correct him for once. There were much more important things.

”Thank you for driving him off. Can I know your name?”

“My name is Ronan.” The centaur inclined his head. “You know, then, who you just
encountered?”

The twins were watching the exchange with strangely solemn eyes, but seemed alright letting
Harry take the lead.

“Yes. I know exactly who and what that was.”

Ronan nodded once. “You have learned much already. That is good. It may keep you alive.
For a while.” Then turned to the twins. “This forest is not safe for you anymore. Today, we
had business with the creature to warn it away. But we will not interfere again.”

“What do the stars say about it?”, Harry asked before he could stop himself.

He regretted it almost immediately when Ronan turned his sorrowful eyes on him. “Saturn
has been on the rise, but it can only delay what is to come.”

Well, if that wasn’t ominous.

“But one star has shone brighter tonight, even behind the clouds. It’s the brightest star in the
sky. The Dog Star is awake.”

“Thank you, Ronan.” Harry bowed his head slightly and got a nod in return. “Can you maybe
keep an eye on the unicorns here? They need it.”

The centaur gave him another deep, unreadable glance. Harry could only hope he had gotten
the message across and Ronan, Bane and whoever else was chosen as guardians of the herd
would care more about the other inhabitants of the forest than they did about the humans
from the castle.

“He is gone. If you go now, you will make it to the school safely. I will leave you here.”

With another nod at the twins, the centaur turned around and disappeared into the forest. The
being watched feeling that Harry had had for the last fifteen minutes finally vanished.

“…did you understand what he said?”, asked George.

Harry shrugged. “Only partly. But that’s what the Divination books in the library are for.”

“They’re always like this”, said Fred. “And some are more helpful than others. We’ve met
Firenze a few times; he seems nice.”
“We can be glad they helped us at all.” George ruffled his own hair until he realised what he
was doing and stopped. Not soon enough to stop it looking like a particularly strange bird had
roosted in it, however. “Let’s get back to the school.”

Harry kept the cloak close and the map ready, but they encountered nobody else on their way
out of the forest, nor on their way back into the castle. They had to stand, shivering, in front
of the gates for a few minutes until Filch had walked past, but soon found themselves in the
kitchens. The house elves were always working in shifts and those on night duty had taken
one look at them and prepared some hot chocolate with marshmallows for the lot of them.
There were also suddenly stacks of blankets.

“So. The Defence teacher is out to kill you and roams the woods at night”, George summed
up tonight’s experience.

“Yup, pretty much.”

“Your life is strange”, Fred added.

“Yup.”

“And you have an invisibility cloak.”

Harry grinned. “Yup. You’re not the only ones who have to keep some secrets to themselves.”

“Why exactly did you come after us?”, asked Fred.

“You didn’t have to”, said George.

“I couldn’t exactly let you run into him alone and unprepared, could I? Besides, it was kind
of my fault, with me having the map. And… we’re friends. Aren’t we?”

That made both of them grin and Harry had to duck under Fred’s arm when the boy was
trying to ruffle his hair. It was bad enough with half the forest still clinging to it.

“Yes, we are, Little Snake.”

“Partners in crime and all that.”

“Brothers, you could say.”

“And if you ever need anything-“

“-let us know.”

“We owe you.”

It took Harry half an hour, half the hot chocolate and the memory of Dudley to finally have
the epiphany and start having a laughing fit.

“He’s snapped, Fred.”

“Do we get him to Madam Pomfrey?”

“…he’s a bloody ringwraith…!”, Harry just about got out before he devolved into more fits
of laughter. “He’s… he’s got the cloak and everything! And he’s got a thing for trinkets and
rings! He’s just missing the horse.”

Harry laughed some more, but because he had made the mistake of trying to drink hot
chocolate at the same time, he ended up snorting some out of his nose.

Convincing the twins he hadn’t gone insane turned out to be the biggest challenge of the
night. But eventually they all managed to make their way to their respective common rooms
without anyone but the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest the wiser. And Mehen, who was
keeping up the hissed complaints all the way until Harry finally fell asleep, still giggling
occasionally.

It would probably look different in the morning when the adrenaline had worn off. But for
now, Harry would take it.

Harry got the twins the deluxe package from Zonko’s for their birthday, flown to Hogwarts
via Hedwig with an owl order. Of course that was after they had managed to somehow dye
every single student’s hair their house colour.

When Blaise stared at him during breakfast and Harry pulled one of the longer strands of now
green hair to look at them, he just grinned. His Black bracelet had actually warned him again,
but, knowing what it was, he had drunken it anyway. No need to make people suspicious.
When Blaise squeaked and realised his own hair was the same colour, Harry started outright
laughing. Every single one of his year-mates looked very unimpressed.

“Just be happy it’s not red again”, he remarked.

That made Theo shrug his shoulders as if to say fair, while Daphne just sighed. “Now my
hair clashes with my clothes. How dare they.”

They met in the kitchen later to celebrate, Hannah and Susan being on guard duty, mostly
because Blaise refused to associate with the twins, especially after a prank like that.
Apparently, it meant business if someone went after his hair.

It was still nice, of course. They, accompanied by the house elves, sang Happy Birthday and
then dug into a giant cake the elves had insisted on making. There was even some more
butterbeer. The twins were especially delighted when Harry whispered to them that part two
of their birthday present was that they could borrow the cloak once. It pained him a bit to
lend it out, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do.

Having expected April 1st to be the chaos day, Harry was utterly unprepared when the day
after turned out to be complete mayhem.
He was sitting at the Slytherin table, Blaise on his left, Theo across from him, Daphne and
Tracy, who had become familiar faces in the last few months, across and to the left. When the
fist letter landed in front of him, Harry was intrigued by the unfamiliar handwriting. Then
followed a package. Then another letter. When yet another owl knocked over Daphne’s
pumpkin juice and he had to endure her glare, Harry knew something was up.

“Er… Harry? Did we miss your birthday or something?”, Tracy asked, holding up a letter
that had ended up on her bacon and had some greasy streaks on it. The owl that had delivered
it looked decidedly unimpressed.

“His birthday is on July 31st. Everyone knows that.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Blaise. I completely forgot I’m a walking attraction”, Harry
grumbled.

Two more owls tried to find a place to land and kept making annoyed hooting sounds at
everyone sitting close to him. Harry worked as fast as he could to untie any and all letters and
send the owls off with an owl treat. Hedwig would be mad at him because at this rate, he
would end up giving away most of hers and Smaug’s. But he was simply refusing to feed any
bird bread or some other stuff that might make them sick.

One owl that seemed to be in a particular hurry started pecking at his - no longer green - hair.

“Jeez, I’m working as fast as I can; calm down!”

Hedwig came just at that moment. She took one look at the other owls, gave a distinctly
displeased hoot, and then flew up the rafters to wait with a look that said and that’s how it’s
done. Some of the other owls luckily took their cue from her and Harry had a bit more space
to separate letters from birds.

On one hand, it was to get the letters and stop the commotion they were causing in the great
hall. People from all houses were craning their necks to see what was going on at the
Slytherin table this morning and Harry could already hear the whispers start up. On the other
hand, Harry could feel Mehen tightening around his arm in fear and getting the birds of prey
out of the snake’s general vicinity seemed like a good idea. His familiar was used to owls by
now, seeing as they were everywhere in the magical world. Being beleaguered by them,
however, was a new and unwanted experience.

Of course he had soon figured out what must have happened. When he looked up at the staff
table, he could see the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes from here. The blasted man had lifted
the mail ward without any sort of warning.

Then again, he had set owls on Dumbledore, so maybe fair was fair.

Harry cursed some more while one owl after the other came from the rafters to drop a letter
and collect an owl treat. By now he had about a dozen letter plus a package stacked next to
his plate and on the bench between him and Blaise. Hedwig came down last and brought with
her another letter and package, but at least he recognised the handwriting on that one.
“…what exactly is going on?”, Tracy finally asked, eyeing all the post critically.

“It seems that the mail ward that was on me was finally lifted. I’m not sure whether it’s
because I asked nicely, or whether my lawyer decided to pull out the big guns.”

The others looked confused.

“Sorry. Muggle expression. My lawyer may have managed to pull some strings to force
Dumbledore’s hand. Or the old bastard just decided it would be funny to lift it without
warning. If I had known, I would have made sure to redirect it somewhere else. I guess I can
call myself lucky it wasn’t lifted on Valentine’s Day.”

Blaise grimaced, then picked up the package. “Aren’t you going to open any of it?”, he
asked.

“Of course not; are you mad? There could be anything in there! Dangerous things, bubotuber
puss, curses… I’ll have to check all of them before opening them.” He paused. “Well, I’ll
have to ask Professor Flitwick to do it. I don’t know any of the spells yet, though I guess it’s
time to learn the easier ones.”

That had been on his ever-growing to-do list anyway, so the letter situation was probably a
good excuse. And he couldn’t do most of the other things he had going on under the watchful
eyes of his friends, so getting them to practice with him was a welcome distraction.

“Why don’t you ask Professor Quirrell? He’s the Defence Professor after all.” Daphne looked
at him with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t want to trust the man with my life, that’s why.”

She looked thoughtful, but didn’t push the point.

“Sounds like a plan, though”, said Theo.

“I wouldn’t even have thought about that!” Blaise had put the package down carefully and
was staring at it suspiciously.

“You can practice with me if you want to. It can’t hurt.”

Blaise paused. “Mmh. Depends on how much homework we get over the Easter holidays. I
may be too distracted studying for the exams. Maybe we can meet up more often in the
library to study together and then practice in an abandoned classroom?”

“Oh. I’m going home for Easter.”

That turned a few heads towards him. Blaise looked especially put off. “What.”

“Almost nobody ever goes home over the Easter hols”, said Tracy. “Nobody without a family
library, anyway. You need the Hogwarts library to finish the assigned papers and study for
exams.”
Harry just shrugged. “I promised my cousin to come home for every holiday. And I think I
can manage the papers and exams just fine.”

“Showoff”, huffed Tracy. “What? It’s true. Everyone thinks you’re a bloody prodigy.” She
did smile while saying it, so it seemed to be as much a complaint as a compliment.

“He is, though”, said Blaise.

“And I bet we don’t even know the half of it”, muttered Theo.

Harry thought he was the only one who’d heard that part and was kind of glad about it,
mostly because it was true.

He was thinking about revealing some more of his secrets. Parseltongue, for example, would
only gain him more points in the eyes of his Slytherin friends and acquaintances and by now
he could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t spread it across the whole school. Hannah and
Susan would probably be more fascinated than scared as well. He wasn’t sure about Neville,
but thought the boy would stick with him anyway.

He couldn’t help but want to keep it to himself just a bit longer. Not only because he wasn’t
sure yet whether he would be able to prevent the Chamber of Secret thing completely and it
was better to be safe than sorry, but also because it might reveal Mehen, or make it more
likely for the snake to be found out. And he would never ever risk Mehen.

Maybe he would tell more people that he suspected Quirrell. The twins already knew, after
all, and they had been convinced far more easily than Harry had thought they would be.
Nothing like Professor Sprout, who scoffed even at the thought one of her colleagues might
be responsible for what had happened to Harry.

He could also share the fact that the Philosopher’s Stone was in the castle, but what for, Harry
wasn’t sure. Having some reckless Gryffindor run off after it just to prove they could would
be a disaster. Besides, it was safe enough where it was. Quirrell alone would never be able to
get it out of the mirror and Harry had already decided not to go after it, even if he didn’t
manage to get the professor out of the castle by June.

He definitely couldn’t tell anyone about the vanishing cabinet. That was 1. illegal and 2.
much too dangerous. And it was his escape option should anything in Hogwarts ever get too
dangerous for him to handle.

(More dangerous than trolls and teachers who want to kill you?)

Harry wanted the voice to shut up, but also couldn’t deny it was probably right. If he was at
all sane, he would just leave the Wizarding World for good and ask Aunt Petunia to move to
New Zealand for good measure. He deserved some peace and quiet. But no, instead he was
attacked by post owls.

(You could leave…)

Usually the voice didn’t have any discernible emotion, but Harry could have sworn it
sounded sad right now.

He could leave. But he would have to leave for good because otherwise, everyone would
hound him. Including Voldemort when he came back.

“Harry?”, Blaise asked.

“Sorry, lost in thoughts. What was it?”

“We’ve got Herbology. If we want to make it to the greenhouses…”

“Oh! Sorry. Of course. Let’s go.”

Harry grabbed a banana for the way and followed Blaise, still half trapped in the thought
cycle.

What if he did leave? He’d lose the friends he’d made, probably. Maybe they could stay in
contact via letters. But then the press might find out where he was and they wouldn’t leave
him alone. Not to mention Voldemort. He’d come after him no matter what. Unless Harry
managed to replace the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries with something else and
made him believe he wasn’t a threat anymore.

Now that was an idea.

When he almost snapped a twig off his dittany for the third time, even Professor Sprout asked
him what was going on. Not that Harry knew himself. The thought of simply leaving had
taken root in his mind.

If he was being honest, one of the reasons why he hadn’t ratted out Travers and his
companions for everything they had done was that he didn’t want people to know how bad it
had been. Especially not his aunt. She’d slowly turned into someone who actually seemed to
fight for his well-being - which meant she probably wouldn’t want him to go to Hogwarts if
she knew what exactly was going on. Trolls and rogue bludgers were already bad enough.

But did he actually want to stay at Hogwarts? That the answer wasn’t an immediate yes was
concerning.

He asked Flitwick for help right after Charms. The flying lesson were still ongoing, but after
Christmas they weren't mandatory and Harry felt he didn’t particularly need them. Luckily,
Flitwick had some free time and seemed to take great delight in checking his parcel and all
the letters for curses and dangerous items. Harry picked up some general checking spells and
promised to show any positives to the professor for further checking.

This batch turned out to contain general well-wishes, what were probably the last remnants of
righteous fury on his regard concerning the troll, and one slightly concerning letter that had
stalker-ish tendencies that Harry swore to show Madam Bones. The package contained a
magical singing stuffed bear that made Harry wonder whether people thought he’d been
frozen in time when he was a one-year-old.
Blaise’s disgusted sneer when he saw the bear made it almost worth it, though. Even Malfoy
had to suppress a snicker at it.

The whole incident also meant that Harry had to write a letter rather urgently. That Mr Lloyd
hadn’t sent a warning probably meant he had no idea. It also meant that Harry would keep
getting random owls until a new mail ward had been put up - by trusted sources, of course,
and with Harry knowing where his stuff was going. He definitely wanted that sorted before
any new articles came out and didn’t even want to know how his birthday would look if it
wasn’t done until then. Luckily, he was going home in just about a week and would be able to
meet Mr Lloyd in person.

Breakfast the next day had a similar pattern as the day before. The only difference was Harry
being five minutes late to Potions because he’d spent all of the time untying letters from and
being pecked by impatient owls. Snape, of course, didn’t count that as an excuse.

“If you are too preoccupied with your fan mail” The professor sneered at the word and the
rest of Slytherin and Gryffindor giggled “maybe you won’t need Potions after all? Is that
what you’re thinking? Detention with me, tonight, at seven. Do not be late. And leave the
letters of your admirers in your dorm room, Mr Evans-Potter.”

There was a lot of strangeness about that whole situation the more Harry thought about it. As
expected, Snape had made a quip about him being famous and he’d gotten a detention. But
there were no lost points. And he had used his name. Something was up and Harry found he
looked towards the detention with dread.

The meeting with a cheery Professor Flitwick went much better, with no more stalker letters
and still no cursed letter arriving for him. One package was a book about quidditch - the first
useful thing he’d gotten, in his opinion, and probably because he had mentioned it in the
interview with Rita Skeeter - the other package contained an assortment of chocolates.

“Now, this is more Professor Snape’s area of knowledge. If there are any potions in there,
he’ll be the one to find them. Of course…”

The professor frowned and Harry had the startling realisation that the Charms professor must
dislike how much Snape picked on Harry.

“I have detention with him tonight anyway”, Harry shrugged. “I’ll take it and ask. And if he
says no, I’ll just toss the lot.”

Or feed it to Travers. Now there was an idea.

“Very well, Mr Evans-Potter. If you encounter any… issues, please let me know.”

When he left Professor Flitwick behind, Harry covertly held his Black bracelet over the
chocolate and felt it tighten over his wrist. Well then. Snape it was.

Harry went through the rest of the day as absent-minded as the day before, only focusing
enough to slip away from his friends during a bathroom break - though tiled rooms still gave
him creepy feelings - to call Kreacher. He had decided that answering most of the letters was
probably a good idea and he had started on the first batch last night before bed. Kreacher was
tasked with copying some of the ones that could be used as an answer to multiple people and
sending them off with multiple Hogwarts owls. If this continued, there may not be any owls
left for the rest of the students, which Harry found slightly amusing.

Harry found his way to Professor Snape’s office just before seven, still thinking about fan
mail and the public’s opinion.

“Enter.”

There was still something off about the man and Harry tightened his occlumency shields just
in case. He had left Mehen in the dorm again, much to the snake’s consternation. But if Snape
had him scrubbing cauldrons, which he couldn’t do with his sleeves down, Mehen could be
discovered. And there was no way a potions master wouldn’t recognise a boomslang.

"Ah, Mr Evans-Potter. Without the fan mail, I presume?"

Snape was sitting behind his desk, much more collected than the last time Harry had been
here. It may have been his imagination, but the room looked slightly more inviting too.

"No, I brought a fan package instead."

When Snape just raised an eyebrow instead of sneering, Harry took that as a sign to continue.

"Professor Flitwick said that, as a potions master, you're obviously the expert in detecting
whether there's anything harmful in the chocolate. Not that I care particularly. I'll toss it all if
you don't have time to help. But I figured I'd ask and see who wants to poison me now."

Snape stared at him. Then he stared at the package.

"I shall take a look while you scrub the cauldrons, Mr Evans-Potter. They're in the adjacent
room, if you please."

There was still something off about the whole interaction and it made his skin crawl. There
hadn't even been an attempt to look into his mind so far and Snape had offered to check fan
mail. Fan mail.

"Oh, and Mr Evans-Potter? Not. A. Speck. Left."

Now that sounded more like the usual vicious Snape. It almost made Harry relax a little. And
wasn't that a conundrum.

"Yes, Sir."

Scrubbing cauldrons wasn't much different to scrubbing Aunt Petunia's pots and pans and
he'd done that since he was three. It was a mindless task, and so his mind drifted instead.

What had changed with Snape? Harry almost checked his hair, but it wasn't red today. So he
wasn't seeing Lily. Was he? He was still as sour as ever, but the bite was missing. As if he
was just doing it to keep up appearances.
No. It couldn't be. Did the man actually have a bad conscience?

Harry mentally ran trough all the interactions he'd had with Snape since the end of the
pranking war. He didn't think the man had known how dangerous it had become. After all,
whenever his life had truly been in danger in his memories, Snape had tried to save him. He
had muttered a counter curse during the broom incident and even refereed the next match.
Granted, there may have been some hatred of Gryffindor in there, but... Then he had stood in
front of a werewolf in the hopes of protecting them.

But the first few months of school, Snape had just seen a Potter being pranked within an inch
of his life and thought it justice.

And then Harry had appeared in his office looking like Lily. Not a day after, Snape had found
inevitable proof in the form of devil's snare that the so-called pranks didn't deserve the name.
There was a reason Harry hadn't thought the man would even take points. After all, it was
against the future Lord Travers, someone from House Rosier, and someone from the Jugson
family - all staunch Voldemort supporters. And Snape was one of the few people who truly
feared the Dark Lord would return, Harry was sure, so going openly against his supporters
would always be a risk.

And then there was the troll and to everybody else, it must have looked as if he had been
close to dying. Two eleven-year-olds against a fully grown mountain troll wasn't something
anyone would place their bets on.

After that, there had been his comment about being locked in a closet and something akin to
empathy in the man’s eyes. Along with the newspaper articles, it must have painted a decent
picture of his life, though Harry hadn’t exactly expected Snape to believe he hadn’t been
raised as a pampered little prince. Then there had been the bludger, of course, and the fact
that Snape was clearly suspicious of Quirrell right now…

Snape's face when he had just walked out the door had been one he had seen on Petunia, most
often in the time right after the Christmas Disaster. A bad conscience.

Now he just has to decide how to use it for his purposes. Because he had a feeling whatever
this mood was, it wouldn’t last.

Harry schemed some more, hands scrubbing away by themselves while he sank into his own
mind. And then he reached for the next cauldron, only to find he had grabbed an already
clean one, and when he looked around, there were no more dirty ones to be found. The clock
on the wall told him he had spent almost three hours here and it was nearing curfew.

He took off his gloves (the one memory of cleaning a cauldron without them and his hands
breaking out in boils because of a vanishing charm that hadn't been done properly was
enough, thank you very much) and then stretched his limbs.

Snape was sitting behind his desk scribbling furious notes onto what seemed to be student
papers. Harry winced when he saw the current victim had more red than dark ink by now; he
sure didn't want to be that person.
"It's almost curfew, Professor", he said.

The man looked up - ah, there was the sneer.

"So you thought you could skip the rest of the cauldrons? Be back here tomorrow to finish
the rest."

"Oh no, the cauldrons are all done, Sir. I just figured I’d come and say good night."

That warranted another raised eyebrow and Snape put the quill away with another disdainful
look at the essay that would probably garner a Troll, then went next-door to check. Harry
allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. If the man wanted to find fault with his work, he'd
have to produce it himself.

Harry’s eyes drifted towards the man’s personal potions store and had to clench his hands
against the temptation. Not now.

Snape indeed seemed slightly surprised when he returned, though he adjusted his body
language the second he stepped through the door.

Harry just shrugged. “I’ve been doing the household chores since I was three. Scrubbing pots
is nothing new to me.”

"Your detention is over, Mr Evans-Potter." There was an edge to Snape’s voice that made
Harry giddy.

"What about the package, Sir? Did you find anything?"

Snape’s face turned downright deadly again and Harry swallowed. O-oh.

"Tell me, please. It's not as if I'm not used to someone trying to kill me."

He tried to sound nonchalant, but was glad he could let down his sleeves again to hide the
trembling in his fingers. Even with Snape believing everything else, Harry wasn’t sure he
believed this.

"There was a grade two love potion in some of the chocolate."

Harry was glad he'd spent the last three hours in a state of semi-meditation because his magic
flared. He could feel it flow from his chest to his hands, desperately trying to find an outlet.
He fought it, shoving it down and balling his hands into fists as if that could stop it from
escaping. He had lots of practice at it, having done the same at Privet Drive for over a year.

"Is there a way to charge them with anything?"

The professor's face darkened further. "I'm afraid not."

"But someone just tried to dose a minor with a love potion! There has to be something!"
 Snape’s expression said it all and Harry now had to hold back the curses along with his
magic.

"I bloody hate the incompetence of the ministry", he hissed. "But thank you very much for
checking. Could I get the chocolate back anyway? Or a list of what you’ve found? I want to
forward it to my lawyer, and possibly Madam Bones too."

"You're not doing things by half, are you, Mr Evans-Potter?" was the only comment on it.

"I can't risk not to."

"And that is also why Mr Travers has not only avoided you since Halloween but looks
downright scared?"

There was still no legilimency probe, though Harry was waiting for one. Why wasn't the man
investigating more? Had he already looked at Travers' mind? Harry was very sure Snape at
least knew of the Black title by now. Nobody could be that oblivious. The whole of Slytherin
knew and the man was a spy.

"Being knocked out by a troll would scare anyone, Sir. Having bullied the person who
consequently knocked out said troll..."

He could have sworn there was a smirk lurking in Snape’s eyes. It felt downright scary.

"You better get back to the common room, Mr Evans-Potter. It’s almost curfew."

"Yes, Sir."

"And if you ever get food or drink via mail again, please dispose of it." There was a pause.
"Or come see me during my office hours. But do not eat it."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!"

Harry let the door close on the way out, but only made it a few steps down the corridor before
he had to lean against a wall. His thoughts were swirling like the memories in a pensieve and
it took all his occlumency to even bring a semblance of order to them.

Snape had offered help. Snape. Had offered help. To him.

"Dear Merlin, take me back to where the world makes sense."

That said place was the Slytherin dorms was an enigma in itself, but at least it was a familiar
one.

Chapter End Notes

I'm not quite happy with this chapter, I think, but I've had a stressful week and decided
not to think about it too much. So. Here you go.
 To be happier
Chapter Summary

Why does Harry stay in the magical world again?

Oh, right. To cause chaos, of course.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry stepped into the floo at platform 9 3/4 and then tumbled out of it onto Aunt Petunia’s
rug in the living room of Number Four. He managed to roll away just in time to avoid
Dudley, who barely stumbled and only grinned when he saw his cousin lying on the floor.

“We’ve been using it to go to the Leaky Cauldron quite often”, he said. “After ending up on
that floor twice a week, you either learn how to catch yourself fast, or learn how to disinfect
your hands.”

Harry took the offered hand and let his cousin pull him up. It seemed Dudley had not only
gained the knowledge of floo travel, but also some more muscle.

Dudley grinned even more and flexed a bit. “I figured that if you have the magic, I’ll have to
have the brawn. You can’t tell me you scrawny stick can do more than hold on to a broom.”

“Fair point”, Harry conceded. Some things never changed - and a part of him was glad.

While he was still training and by now even Neville could keep up a bit better on his runs
along the lake, Harry wasn’t a fighter. Not like Dudley was, anyway. He still tried to keep up
with taekwondo a bit, but having no trainer and not even a training partner, he knew his
technique had gotten worse. Maybe he could sign up for a summer course starting in June…?

Petunia, of course, stepped out of the fireplace even more gracefully, then huffed at the spots
of ash on the rug.

“It’s better than the horror bus - but can magical people not invent a single way of travel
without drawbacks?”

“I think most of them can just wave their wands and make the stains go away.” Harry looked
at the spots. “I’d do it, but I don’t feel like being expelled for cleaning.”

Petunia sighed. “We shall have to put up with it. Maybe I can get a rubber mat?”, she mused.

The next week flew by, as usual when Harry returned home. Dudley wasn’t even mad that he
spent a lot of time studying, often sitting with Harry to have him explain some magical
concept or other. His cousin was surprisingly good at asking deeper questions about it all,
probably because he was starved for any knowledge of the magical world. Dudley also had
exams coming up and Harry did the same for him, sitting through lectures on History,
Mathematics and watching him struggle through French vocabulary and grammar.

Thinking about the former fourth year, Harry decided he should probably try to learn that too.
Just in case. He still wasn’t sure what to do about the tournament should it actually happen
this time around - not that it necessarily would, as he had already changed so much. But one
never knew. Besides. French sounded nice.

Petunia had expanded her potion abilities as well and Harry proceeded to practice with her
every evening, showing her some more potions and pastes they had learned in the last four
months. Apparently, she was still in contact with Madam Pomfrey, who had recommended
books on healing, plants for potion use and direct application as well as general advice. Harry
was slightly weirded out by the development, but the books proved to be very interesting and
helpful either way.

She also met Mrs Abbott semi-regularly and the two talked about their sewing projects or
went shopping for fabric. Petunia was fascinated by how you could do it with magic, having
watched her wave a wand and have clothing stitch itself. Mrs Abbott, on the other hand, was
fascinated by Petunia’s sewing machine and had visited their house to watch his aunt sew a
new dress.

Harry listened with half an ear. He didn’t know much about sewing, but he understood
enough of it to realise his aunt was actually happy. It was such a startling realisation that he
almost dropped the snake fang he had been about to put into the cauldron, which got him a
scolding from his aunt.

Just before Easter they turned the kitchen from potions laboratory into an egg colouring
station. There were tubs with vinegar and colours, eggs being dropped in, some painted on
afterwards, some decorated with stickers. Last year’s Easter had still been overshadowed by
the Christmas Disaster, so Harry enjoyed yet another holiday for pretty much the first time.

Apparently, even Mehen could see the fun side behind hiding colourful eggs in the grass and
the privet hedges. Harry made sure to hide some smaller eggs for him in the branches as well
when nobody was looking - though he left the colour off. No reason to upset the snake’s
stomach unnecessarily.

When Dudley invited him to a movie afternoon out with some friends, Harry found himself
both surprised and nervous about the whole thing. He hadn’t had contact with anyone from
the muggle world who didn’t know about magic for months. But he also wanted to see some
of the people again who he had gone to school with - and some of the new friends his cousin
kept mentioning in conversations.

And so they found themselves in front of the cinema, waiting for the others to show as
Petunia, of course, had been her overly punctual self and they had arrived fifteen minutes
early.
Dudley had kept him up to date about any important films and TV series he missed while he
was at Hogwarts, but hadn’t talked about this one much. That meant it was probably more of
a “we want to meet and this is a good excuse”-movie.

“Harry!” That was Noah, grinning brightly and running up to him. “I’m so glad you could
come this time; we haven’t seen each other in ages! How are you?”

They had been friends for about half a year before his Hogwarts letter had come, but had met
even before that in taekwondo practice. Even before Dudley had let him be, Noah had
sometimes sat with him during the short breaks in training, but they hadn’t had contact since
September. He and Dudley had only hit it off when they had realised they were going to the
same secondary school.

“I can’t complain. It’s been weird, being all alone at a new school, but I’ve made some new
friends too. And I might even try to join a sports teams next year.”

“Why not this year?”

Soon, they found themselves complaining about the policy to keep first-years out of the
sports clubs and Noah especially joined his rant on how unfair it was that the reason was
apparently because they didn’t want students to get hurt.

“As if it’s gonna be so much better just because you’re a year older”, he muttered. “I feel for
you, mate. Give ‘em hell next year” and then proceeded to fist bump Harry.

Steve, whom he knew from Dudley’s former boxing team, had gotten sick unexpectedly and
everyone else from their elementary school hadn’t been able to make it from the start.

Luckily, Dudley had made new friends as well and Harry was soon introduced to Sarah,
Gemma and Christopher who grimaced at the name and immediately asked Harry to call him
Chris. Gemma and Chris were in boxing too. Sarah had once caught Dudley reading the
Hobbit in a corner during break time and, half-joking, half-serious, said she’d then stalked
him until he gave up and became her friend. Because “there are no decent nerds around these
days”.

Harry immediately liked all of them and by the time they bought tickets, they were all
bickering over how to share snacks and popcorn between them. Gemma’s father was the one
supervising the whole thing because he had the biggest car and had promised to give them a
lift to the nearest fast food restaurant and drive them home afterwards.

Harry only realised now how much he had missed it. The normality of it all. The muggle
things like electricity and movies and discussing the latest football games and debating
whether to go to McDonald’s or Burger King afterwards. Hogwarts was great - well, if
nobody was currently trying to kill him. But here…

Harry could laugh with Noah and it felt like they’d seen each other just last week. He found it
easier to trust Gemma, Sarah and Chris immediately because he could be reasonably sure
they weren’t trying to exploit him, not even knowing about magic and definitely not knowing
about his fame. It was nice. It was normal.
Well. As normal as four children watching a movie could get. Harry felt a bit bad for the
employees of the movie theatre because by the end of the film it looked as if their popcorn
bags had exploded. The movie had been pretty great, although he and Dudley had had a
whispered discussion where muggles had gotten their idea of fairies from, as the real ones
from the magical world were certainly too dumb to take on a bunch of loggers and demon-
like entities and win. That had soon devolved into a discussion about which fairy-like
creatures could win the fight, with Leprechauns leading the charge. Doxies were also
considered and imps and pixies at least got honourable mentions until they were shushed by
the others.

They had decided on Burger King - much to the consternation of Gemma and Dudley, who
would have preferred McDonald’s. Gemma’s father drove them there and ended up inviting
the whole group. Sitting squeezed in between Dudley and Chris in the back of a van was
made better by everybody just continuing their conversation, talking about the movie and
making plans.

“Why don’t you all come over to my place sometime this week? I’ve cashed in my Christmas
money and got this new console that finally came out this weekend...”

“The SNES?” Sarah looked like she barely kept herself from bouncing up and down. “Mate,
I’m in! What do you have? Mario? Zelda?”

“Seems like you missed that one, Dudley”, Harry just commented.

His cousin usually tried to have the newest consoles and games. During the start of their
friendship, they’d sometimes taken a break from the fantasy novels to play multiplayer games
together - another way Harry had made it clear to his cousin how much more useful it was to
have Harry as a friend and not a punching bag.

“Naw, I’m good with my Game Boy.”

“And that survived until now? You got that, what, two Christmases ago?”

Dudley elbowed him and grinned. “Hey! I take care of my stuff now.”

They continued to bicker and make plans for the week, though Harry had to veto meeting
every day, citing he really did have to study sometimes and even Chris admitted they should
probably turn some of those meetings into study sessions as well.

“You any good at maths, Harry? None of us are particularly great… We need to fill that gap.”

“Erm… I’m alright, I guess? Not any better than Dudley.” Mostly because Dudley had been
the one to teach him everything he’d learned since September.

“Still better than the rest of us, then. He’s always keeping notes of everything. I have no idea
how he does it. And what he does with it, frankly.”

Sending it to Harry was the answer. Dudley’s thick letters usually consisted of everything
going on in his life and then multiple pages of notes. And Harry sent some of his own notes
back - one more reason why he liked using muggle paper and writing utensils. As a result,
both of their grades had shot up, as well as the time spent studying. Harry felt that may be a
good thing, though.

“Anyway. Just come too and we’ll get everything done twice as fast I bet. Or a fourth as
fast?”

“You did say maths wasn’t your strong suit”, teased Sarah and dodged Chris’ playful punch.

The more time Harry spent with them, the more he was incorporated into the group, getting
the hang of inside jokes and their friendly banter. He had already decided Dudley’s friends
this time around were much better than the last time, but this cemented it.

They said goodbye with the promise to meet up soon, being dropped off at their houses and
waving the car goodbye while watching the headlights disappear.

“Did you boys have fun?” Petunia had opened the door for them. There was something
bubbling in the cauldron in the kitchen again, a clear juxtaposition to the completely normal
muggle outing they’d just had. “If you still need dinner, there’s some things for sandwiches in
the fridge.”

“We already ate, mum. But thanks.”

It was one of those days where Dudley used the connecting door between their rooms to say
goodnight to Harry before he went to his own bed. It didn’t happen as often anymore, seeing
as Harry couldn’t do magic here and Vernon was a blimp on their radar, but often enough to
leave a small warm glow in Harry’s chest.

“Was it really alright for you? I know it must be so different to what you’re used to…”

“Are you kidding? Dudley, I haven’t had as much fun in ages. Except during the quidditch
matches maybe.” He thought back to the bludger. “Actually, not even then. And I like your
friends.”

“Really?”

“Of course! They’re fun to hang out with and I’d love to meet them more often.”

“Really?”

“If you ask one more time, I’m going to hit you with a pillow.”

“Alright alright! I just… You’re gone so much and in this completely different world. And…
if you don’t want to study with us, you don’t have to! We can tell them you got sick. After all,
you can’t take your magic stuff and…”

“Slow down, Dudley! I like them. I like spending time with them. I like spending time with
you. And I’ll come to the study sessions. We’ll just have to do the magic stuff at home.”

Dudley shifted a bit on the corner of the bed he had claimed as a seat.
“I don’t want to leave this world completely. And I’m certainly not leaving you and Aunt
Petunia. You’re stuck with me.”

“Really?”

Harry hit him with a pillow.

“I got the message, I got it!”

Harry put the pillow down and Dudley lowered his arms to smile at him. “Good night,
cousin.”

“Good night, cousin.”

The connecting door shut. Harry put his pillow back. And Mehen crawled out from behind
his bedside table.

:You seem much happier here…:, the snake observed.

:I am. I mean… it’s not that I don’t like Hogwarts at all. But here I can just be… me.: He
paused. :And nobody is trying to kill me.:

:That this even has to be put on the list of positives is sad:, muttered Mehen.

:No kidding.:

The snake climbed up the bed frame and was soon wound around Harry’s neck, nudging his
cheek with his snout. Harry stroked his scales and felt the Mehen breathing in and out against
his skin.

:…why don’t you just stay here? What good has the magical world ever done for you?:

It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it. He’d thought about it more and more. But.

:Dudley loves it. And he deserves to be welcome there and to make it happen, I have to be
the one to make it happen. And we wouldn’t be safe without Voldemort dead. So…:

:…so you continue to fight.:

:Yes. Until it’s safe. Until I can make a decision without it being forced on me from either
world.:

Mehen nudged him again. :I’ll be there, wherever you end up.:

Of course Harry couldn’t stay in the muggle world bubble forever. The magical world had a
habit of catching up to him. The first was, of course, in the form of Walburga Black.

By now it was second nature to sneak out at night and have Kreacher pop him to London
from outside the wards. He couldn’t stay too long or his aunt would notice how tired he was
all the time, but a few hours were no issue.

Usually, he spent some of them being taught by Walburga and having more pureblood
behaviour drilled into him. A lot of time was spent in the library, making use of the Black’s
large collection of books to research his homework. Some time was spent tinkering with the
vanishing cabinet, for which he still had to find a decent manual. He definitely had to look
for one during their trip to Diagon. Or sneak off to Knockturn again.

She was not amused by Harry’s run-ins with a certain dark lord. At least she admitted that the
bludger could only have been avoided if he hadn’t set the general public on Quirrell with a
newspaper article, but agreed with him that said article had been absolutely necessary. What
she could not understand, however, was why he had gone after the Weasley twins.

“You deliberately put yourself in danger, and for what? A bunch of Weasleys!”, she huffed.

“Hey, just because they don’t have a title, doesn’t mean they’re useless. The twins are
actually wicked smart.”

“So you keep saying. And then they run off into the Forbidden Forest and I start to
wonder…”

“Besides, they’re my friends. I can’t just let them die to an insane unicorn-hunting Dark
Lord.”

“Hmpf.” Walburga eyed him. “That’s going to be the death of you. That saving people thing.”

“I don’t think we can train that out of me…”, Harry admitted.

“…I fear you are right.” She frowned at him. “That means you’ll have to become twice as
strong so you don’t die on your reckless hero missions.”

At least she took a practical approach to the whole thing. Harry decided that could have gone
a lot worse. He also had a feeling she’d have a separate conversation with Kreacher and the
elf would keep an even closer eye on him from now on. If necessary, Harry was sure he could
distract him with fan mail answers.

Another long-overdue meeting was the one with his lawyer. Even Dudley had gotten rather
sick of the rain of owls that arrived every morning. It had been especially bad during Easter,
where Harry had been buried under chocolate eggs and bunny cards. It had been a real
struggle to keep his cousin from eating it all when Dudley realised Harry wasn’t going to. It
had been even more of a struggle to keep Petunia from going on a rampage when Harry gave
the example of the love potion chocolate and his aunt started ranting against the ministry’s
inaction yet again.

Mr Lloyd certainly had his work cut out for him. They met at a restaurant this time, having
rented a small conference room and ordering food. That was the only reason Dudley wanted
to come because he thought the whole lawyer thing was rather boring - even if the prospect of
people wanting to poison or potion Harry was definitely a novelty for his cousin.

“Welcome, Mr Evans-Potter. I’ve heard life has been busy?”

“Staying alive even more so.”

Mr Lloyd looked about as pleased about that as his aunt. “Anything I can help with in that
regard?”, he asked, turned towards Petunia.

“Yes. It would be great if you could arrange for the mail ward to be redirected somewhere
secure, where the mail is scanned, anything disturbing or dangerous forwarded to the
authorities, and the rest collected somewhere we can access it if we wish”, his aunt said.
“Choose from the pool of people that was specified during our correspondence.”

They had discussed it extensively and Mr Lloyd, like most people, had a tendency to take
Petunia more serious than him.

The lawyers’ eyebrows rose. “Have you gotten anything dangerous, then?” This time the
question was directed at Harry.

“Oh yes. There were some disturbing letters with almost stalker-like tendencies, as well as
some potioned chocolate. I had the school’s potion master check it and the result came back
as a grade two love potion. I sent the chocolate and a copy of the findings to Madam Bones.
I’ve got the original certificate from Professor Snape here.”

While talking, Harry had gotten out a folder and taken one of the papers from it. It was
parchment, of course. Snape may have grown up in the muggle world, but he was old-school.

“He also said there isn’t any law against sending love potions to a minor - which I find
absolutely unacceptable”, added Petunia. “What is the world coming to if people are trying
that on children…?”

“Indeed.” Mr Lloyd’s eyes were still trained on the parchment. “Do you have a plan on how
to deal with this?”

“Yes”, Harry said. “Like I said, I already forwarded it all to Madam Bones and would like to
continue doing that with anything else that comes up. While she is restricted by the law, she
seems to be on our side in this.”

Which wasn’t a surprise. Susan had been furious as well when he had told her, and he thought
her aunt’s opinion would probably mirror hers. If not, Susan would have no trouble
convincing her, but every parent or guardian would probably imagine their own child in his
situation and see the danger.

“Which is why we should just change the law. It needs changing for sure.”

“That’s quite a daunting task.” Mr Lloyd put the paper into his own folder - in the meantime
having grown exponentially - and focused on Harry. “Laws in the wizarding world are not
easily changed.”
“I will change them. Starting with this one. Are you up for it, or should I find another way or
another person?”

Mr Lloyd took a moment to think about it, fingers tapping against the edge of the folder. His
eyes flickered towards his aunt. “You’ll probably face backlash.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

“And we’ll probably have to use your fame to get people to care.”

Harry shrugged. “At least it’ll finally be good for something.”

When Petunia nodded along, Mr Lloyd sighed. “…alright then.”

Harry grinned. “I should probably warn you that this is just the first thing I’ll try to change.
The laws on creatures are atrocious. There are no rights for squibs. And really, the whole
wizarding world needs to reach the 20th century before the 21st comes around. And that’s
less than a decade away.”

“Some lofty goals”, Mr Lloyd remarked.

Harry could hear the patronising tone in his voice, but for now, he didn’t care. As long as the
lawyer was still on his side and tried his best - and Harry thought he would, and not just
because of his professionalism - he’d take it.

Besides, he’d learn soon enough that Harry meant every single word. And when he did,
Harry had a feeling he’d still help. After all, he had been excluded from the society he had
been born into and had made a point of returning in a way that couldn’t be overlooked. He’d
be on board for the squibs rights issue for sure. He would probably relate to the magical
creatures as well.

Petunia said nothing, only pursing her lips and giving him a look that was anything but
patronising. Harry wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she now not only seemed to believe
he meant what he said, but the look in her eyes said she believed he might actually do it.
There was a barely concealed hope. Maybe for Dudley. Maybe for herself. Maybe for them
both or all of them.

Harry was going to give it his best shot.

Their first strategy was tried and tested. After all, getting the Daily Prophet and specifically
Rita Skeeter involved had worked wonders last time. It had also gotten him an attempt on his
life, but Harry felt if people wanted to continue trying to kill him, they might as well have a
better reason than a stupid prophecy.

And so, Petunia and Harry found themselves sitting in yet another café, right across from
Rita Skeeter, who was sipping on a coffee that had so many sugar cubes in it that it didn’t
deserve the name anymore. They had left Dudley at Mr Adams’ antiques shop and had
agreed to meet up for tea after the interview, getting cake and biscuits on the way. That way,
Harry’s last day of the Easter holidays would at least not be spent just with the annoying
reporter.

She had already signed the contract, with much less fuss this time, and was looking at them
inquiringly over the rim of her bejewelled glasses. It was probably meant to look
encouraging, but Harry could see the greedy glint in her eyes.

He didn’t like the woman. In fact, he might even hate her. But there was no arguing the fact
that she got people to listen. It also helped that he knew her motives and could predict her
actions - and that he had blackmail material should he ever need it.

“Ms Evans, Mr Evans-Potter, I’m guessing there’s another story if you’ve seen it fit to
contact me…?” She smiled at them, teeth showing and laughing lines lending the slightest
credibility to her expression.

“Yes. There are some things that the public would no doubt like to know about regarding
Hogwarts and my life.”

“How very forthcoming of you. Will we finally know who exactly your friends are?”

As if she didn’t already know. But the contract stated that even if she did, she would not be
allowed to use them in her article as long as Harry didn’t mention them. Besides, he’d just
cross them out when Petunia got it to read through.

“Sorry to disappoint you. But how do attempts on my life sound for a story?”

She had apparently learned from the mistakes of her photographer the last time and hadn’t
been drinking when Harry was talking. Smart woman.

He ended up telling her all about the bludger attack, making sure to mention - and maybe
slightly exaggerate - Professor Flitwick’s swift actions to restrain it, as well as which
conclusions he’d come to after examining it. Harry sneakily added his own suspicions that a
teacher may be involved with lots of maybes, ifs and buts so that Skeeter wouldn’t be able to
quote him directly. But Harry knew her well enough to guess she would put it in as
speculation and he had every intention of not cutting it out of the article after their editing of
it.

Of course he also mentioned the love potion incident, how it was brought on by the
unannounced removal of his mail ward, how atrocious it was, and that they were taking
measures to make sure it never happened to anyone ever again.

“Love potions of grade two or higher should have the same status as the imperius curse. Your
thoughts, your very emotions aren’t your own and you’re forced to follow the whims of
another person against your will - it’s the very definition.”

“I can see the similarities… but what are you planning to do exactly?” Her eyes switched
between Harry and his aunt.
Harry ignored it and continued talking. “Change the law, of course. This is me starting the
campaign. And if people start arguing how it’s unnecessary, they should think about the
following situation: what if someone gave a love potion to your child? Your spouse? To you?
Put yourself into that situation, really think about it - and then try to give me the same dumb
argument again.”

Harry also had some papers that Mr Lloyd, Petunia and Harry himself had compile their
information on. Petunia took over from there, giving the reporter leave to do her own
research and explaining what they had found so far.

It had been a bit of a rush to get it all together, but Harry and his friends had raided the
Hogwarts -and he the Black - library since he’d had this idea. Susan had definitely had her no
nonsense expression again and her aunt’s background in magical law enforcement had given
her some interesting insights into how wizarding law worked. That way, Mr Lloyd only had
to supply the legal perspective - which had still taken him a few days - and Petunia had
provided the emotional side from an adult view.

Skeeter’s smile was all teeth, eyes gleaming. This article would probably be more of a
coverage of his anti love potion campaign than an interview, with only a few quotes
interspersed amongst the legalese and angry parent Petunia act. But that’s what Harry was
aiming and hoping for.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Evans-Potter”, she grinned.

The rest of the day was spent as far from magic as possible, only taking into account the fact
that they were staying in a shop run by a vampire. The man had even made sure to get some
new trinkets for Harry, which made him feel oddly emotional. Some of them were calling to
his magic more than others, but he took all that spoke to him and they would join the others
in a box in his trunk.

Apart from that, they shared tea and biscuits, Petunia had to keep Dudley from staging an
impromptu fight with the antique swords hanging on the walls and Mr Adams wisely
relegated the two boys to the umbrella stand so they could do a lightsaber battle instead with
the flimsiest sticks he could find.

That may have been due to the “send Harry off to his fancy private school with a major
gaming session” event Dudley’s - and now his? - friends had insisted on having yesterday.
Everyone had gone to Chris’ house because he had the SNES, but because he had a limited
number of games they could all play together, everyone had brought their own consoles.
That’s how they had ended up playing Star Wars.

The whole thing had been kick-started by Harry mentioning that his school was in an
incredibly old building that only had few electric sockets and he couldn’t take any consoles
or games or anything electric, really. He’d mostly used it as an excuse as to why he wouldn’t
be able to call because the phones had limited use for students as well and he was only able
to call home to Petunia and Dudley once a week. He had, however, promised to send letters,
which Sarah had deemed “old school, but kinda cool”.

-
Harry almost regretted growing close to his relatives because by now, leaving Privet Drive
hurt as much as leaving Hogwarts. Maybe even more.

One of the upsides, of course, was being glomped by Hannah as soon as he set foot in the
Great Hall.

“Harry! Welcome back!”

“Woah, slow down.” He barely managed to stay on his feet.

Susan had approached in a more calm manner, but seemed highly amused by the spectacle
her two friends were making of themselves.

“Happy Easter, Harry”, she said.

Blaise also came over, though he stayed far away from the cuddle pile. “Nice to see you back.
We’ve been really struggling through Defence. Quirrell is…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Dudley has been helping me study.”

“Thank god for that”, Hannah mumbled into his robe while Blaise looked slightly doubtful.

“Oh, Susan?”, Harry started. “You should probably write a letter to warn your aunt.”

Her eyes narrowed while Blaise’s face took on an expression of glee. “Oh this is gonna be
good!”

“You had another interview with Skeeter then?”

At least Hannah seemed to want to be part of the conversation and had let go, though she was
looking only slightly less giddy than Blaise.

“Well. I seem to have semi-accidentally started a campaign against love potions and am
trying to change the law. Her help would be appreciated, but if she doesn’t want to, it’s still
fair to give her a warning.”

“Already been there and done that. Well. I told her about our research and that you were
going to talk to your lawyer. She looked like Christmas came early. I think it’s safe to say
she’ll be on our side in this.”

“And still nothing on the troll thing?”, Harry asked.

Her expression darkened. “She tried, but as the incident was over and done with by the time
it got out, Fudge and Dumbledore have been able to calm everyone down far too quickly.”

“Good thing I mentioned the bludger that someone tempered with then, right?”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open, Blaise started cackling maniacally and Susan got a truly evil
glint in her eyes.
“You know, I think I might love you.”

That just sent Blaise into even more of a fit.

“If they don’t do something then, I’m not sure how else to get anyone to notice”, Hannah
said.

“I just hope they don’t wait until someone dies…”

He hadn’t even noticed Theo come up to them - which was a surprise in itself. He usually
kept to the Slytherin table whenever Harry hung out with his Hufflepuff friends.

“Wow, way to ruin the mood.” Blaise grinned at him either way. “One thing’s for sure. It will
never be boring with you around.”

Harry just shrugged while smiling at Theo and then shaking the offered hand and the
“welcome back”.

Theo did end up going back to the Slytherin table when Harry moved towards the Hufflepuff
one, but didn’t seem too put out by it. And Harry… he didn’t blame his friend. He also knew
this careful balancing act wouldn’t work forever.

For now he enjoyed the presence of his magical friends, even if the only ones who even
slightly understood what he was talking about when referencing movies and video games
were Hannah and Justin. First, Justin and him had to explain movies to everybody and
convince them those were an actual thing and yes, no magic was involved whatsoever. Then
they got stuck explaining Star Wars, which turned out to be even more of an issue than The
Hobbit had been.

“Wait… people flying into space?”, Ernie said, his fork with potatoes halting halfway to his
mouth.

“Yes? I mean… People have been on the moon already, so imagining them discovering other
planets isn’t that much of a stretch.” Justin shrugged while everybody stared at him open-
mouthed. “What?”

“On the moon? Are you kidding?”

“Er… no…? Why?”

By now, most of the Hufflepuff table had turned to listen to the conversation, the people
Harry recognised as muggleborns looking confused, the ones he recognised as purebloods
even more so. And he suddenly realised what the issue was.

“Wait. You didn’t know?” Ernie shaking his head was enough of an answer. “People have
been exploring space for decades. The moon landing was in 1969.”

More blank stares. Oh dear. It was worse than he had thought. He’d known, in an indistinct
way, that knowledge of the muggle world was rather lacking. But this level of ignorance was
concerning.
“If it’s true, why did nobody tell us?”, asked one of the older students.

“Don’t some of you have muggle studies?”, Harry asked.

“Some, yes, but the Professor didn’t mention any of that. Quirrell didn’t either, when he was
still the Muggle Studies Professor.”

“Well…” Justin seemed about as dumbfounded as Harry felt. “It’s common knowledge?
Like, we learn about it in school and it comes up in conversation and… how do you not
know?”

“Because the magical and the muggle world are separated and wizards think muggles are
dumb”, Harry sighed.

There were some complaints from further down the table, but Harry silenced them with a
glance.

“You can say what you want, but that kind of thinking is pretty ingrained in magical people.
And not just Slytherins.” He glanced back at the table with green-clad students and turned
back to meet the partly embarrassed, partly angry looks of the Hufflepuffs. “Hey, I’m not
accusing you of anything, so don’t get me wrong. But now that you’ve realised there’s a
disconnect, what are you going to do?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Inform ourselves.”

That was who Harry thought was the current Head Girl. She was a seventh year, obviously,
but he wasn’t even sure he knew her name. Which was definitely something he should work
on.

“We can look in the library. Talk to other students who live partly or full-time in the muggle
world. Maybe get books from there ourselves”, she continued.

“Good thinking.” Harry grinned at her. “If you need any books or materials, tell me and I’ll
ask my cousin to buy them, send them to me, and I’ll pass it on to you. Until then, first
lesson: space travel!”

Harry was very glad lots of muggle-raised witches and wizards ended up in Hufflepuff, or he
wouldn’t have been able to eat dinner at all. This way, sometimes Justin took over, sometimes
Hannah added things, or older people chimed in with their own experiences. Someone even
raised the question whether Professor Sinistra knew that there were actual photographs of
space by now, as well as how much better the telescopes were today.

To be honest, Harry was mostly flabbergasted by it all. He’d known that the general magical
person’s view on muggles was… limited. Alone how some of them thought their non-magical
counterparts dressed was concerning, to say the least. But he’d thought at least the muggle
studies professors knew what they were talking about. And most of the ministry people. Then
again, Arthur Weasley, whose very job it was to deal with muggles, didn’t even know how
electricity worked and was fascinated by rubber ducks.
At least the Hufflepuffs had gotten over their initial anger. The anger at Harry anyway.
However, they were growing more and more annoyed with the Hogwarts Muggle Studies
curriculum.

That was on his list too. But changing Hogwarts classes hadn’t been on the immediate agenda
for a while yet. He had other issues. Possessed teachers first, dangerously outdated classes
second, had been the thought process. Looking at the face Hannah was making - it looked
suspiciously like Susan’s scary face - her priorities were slightly different.

Blaise, who, as usual, had followed him to the badger table, had been uncharacteristically
quiet for most of it, but as they were nearing the end of dessert, Harry caught a look.

“What.”

“…you live to cause mayhem, don’t you?”

“Hey, I had nothing whatsoever to do with this… Okay, maybe I had a little to do with this.
But I think it’s a good development.”

There was still a sparkle of mischief in his friend’s eyes, but Harry could also see some
apprehension.

“Worried I’m biting off more than I can chew, or regretting to have thrown your lot in with
me?”

That, at least, got a laugh out of him. “You wish. I’m where the entertainment is, so you
won’t get rid of me that fast.”

Harry hadn’t even realised he had been worried until that made him relax. Huh. So he wasn’t
over the abandonment issues yet. Good to know.

They managed to make some plans for their friend group as well, focusing especially on
inter-house study sessions. They managed to get a hold of Neville as well just before leaving
the Great Hall and the Gryffindor seemed more than relieved to be invited. Remembering
Hermione’s proclivity for planning every minute of the day and demanding study attitude,
Harry could relate.

By now he was exhausted from the long day and the boring train journey - it really wasn’t the
same without sharing it with his friends - but there was one more thing on the list for today.

“Excuse me… Professor McGonagall?”

The stern woman seemed surprised when she turned around and saw it was Harry calling
after her. Blaise had a very similar expression. For good reason, to be fair. Harry usually went
to Professor Flitwick for questions, who had somehow become his go-to person for most
things. Except for potioned chocolate, which he had consulted Snape on two more times,
though the man hadn’t found any more. Not that Harry had eaten the food either way. There
was always the possibility of muggle poison, which not all magical spells could detect, or
someone having produced a new magical poison.
Right now, however, he needed the Deputy Headmistress.

“Yes, Mr Evans-Potter? And may I say I hope you had a happy Easter and welcome back to
Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Professor. I just wanted to ask if there’s any way to send muggle post from
Hogwarts. I’ve reconnected with some of my school friends and my cousin’s new friends. Of
course I told them we don’t have phones, but I figured I might be able to send a letter…?”

Her eyebrows had risen some more during that monologue. “But of course! There’s a
letterbox right next to my office where you can drop them off. The letters will be collected
and sent off once a week.”

“And what return address do I give them? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is
probably not a great idea…”

“Indeed. We’re Howard’s School for every muggle authority, a private school in the
highlands of Scotland. It’s also what’s on your papers from those child protection people. I
can write down the whole address for you if you bring your first letter. Feel free to knock on
my office door any time.”

“Thank you!”

The professor smiled at him and nodded her head.

“How exactly is the mail sorted out, though? If they put it into a public mail box, it should be
sorted at a normal post office, and I doubt they know about a magical school.”

“You know… I’ve never thought about it”, she mused. “I’ll look it up if you want to…?”

“Thanks, that would be great!”

And free him up for other research and studying for exams. He may have hazy memories of
what had been asked in the first year exams in a different life, but that didn’t mean it would
go exactly the same this time.

Professor McGonagall’s answering smile was a lot warmer this time. Then the teacher
nodded once and went on her way while Harry and Blaise did the same, soon being joined by
Theo, who had hung back a bit, but was soon falling into step besides him.

“Muggle letters? Really?”, Blaise asked.

“Well, I had friends in muggle school, of course. And my cousin still goes there and his
friends are really nice and wanted to stay in contact. This seems like the only way.”

Not that Harry was surprised his friends didn’t quite understand. The pre-Hogwarts education
was usually a private affair, with private tutors or parents teaching their children necessities
like reading, writing and simple maths. Depending on how much time and money people had,
there was some instruction in history, magical theory and easy spells as well, like Walburga
had done for him. Of course, pureblood children had the advantage, with their parents being
able to afford actual teachers, whereas children like the Weasleys had probably been taught
by their mother.

Blaise and Theo had spent most of their childhoods alone or with “appropriate” friends from
other pureblood families - meaning their pool of friends hadn’t changed much when they had
come to Hogwarts. Theo had once confided in Harry that, so far, he hadn’t really had friends.
He’d never seen anyone regularly enough for any relationships to develop and even when he
had arrived, he had preferred staying by himself after surveying the options and finding none
too appealing.

It had been similar for Blaise, who had lots of cousins in Italy that he considered friends, but
not really any extended family in the UK apart from his mother and current stepfather. He
was very tight-lipped about his home situation and while Harry had some suspicions, he
didn’t want to push his friend.

He had been hesitant to make friends too, knowing enough of the politics already to want to
stay neutral. That made Harry all the more proud the other boy had deemed him worth the
risk. Then again, Blaise seemed drawn to drama and Harry was nothing if not dramatic. It
was a match made in heaven, really.

“…you’re not going to go back to the muggle world, are you…?”, Blaise suddenly asked and
Theo tensed beside him.

“I’m… I can’t exactly say no. Having someone constantly trying to kill me is a bit of a turn-
off. But I love lots of things about the magical world, so I want to stay. But I won’t leave my
cousin behind either, so I’ll just have to change things.”

“Like the love potion agenda.”

That, weirdly enough, was Theo.

“What? Don’t give me that look. Just because I’m standing to the side, doesn’t mean my ears
don’t work.” He paused. “Let me know if you need help with that.”

“…I need someone who knows how the whole Wizengamot thing works. I’ve read a lot on
the matter” and Walburga had taught him everything she knew, but it had been decades since
she had played an active part in politics, and even then, neither she nor her husband had ever
held the lordship “but hearing from someone with some experience in it…”

“I can definitely help with that”, Theo said. “And I don’t very much feel like being potioned
either.”

“Yeah, no thanks”, agreed Blaise. Harry wasn’t even sure the shudder was faked. “Maybe
you can rope in Malfoy as well. He can be a bit of a git, but his family has serious political
clout.”

“That’s the plan”, Harry admitted.

“…you really do have a plan, don’t you?”, Theo asked. “And not just a short-term one
either.”

Harry grinned.

“…terrifying”, was the obvious answer and the grin turned into a laugh.

Of course the relative quiet of inter-house study sessions and trying to take apart the love
potion laws was thrown into chaos when they caught Hagrid sneaking into the library to get
books on dragon eggs.

Susan’s eyes widened and she started chewing on her lip, which was definitely a habit she
only showed when she was really really nervous. Blaise’s eyes lit up. Theo, who had finally
been lured to their study sessions by the promise of better grades, just sighed.

“You’re going to get involved, aren’t you?”, he asked.

Harry’s expression must have been enough to answer because suddenly all of his friends were
trading suffering looks.

“Hey, I’m not that bad!”, he protested.

“Troll”, said Neville, not even looking up from his Herbology book.

“Skeeter”, said Susan.

“Bludger.”

(Forbidden Forest.)

“Life debt.”

“Black heir.”

That garnered looks from the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindor.

“Er…” Blaise looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Oops?”

“…I maaaay have forgotten to mention that…”, Harry mused, looking at the wide eyes of his
three non-Slytherin friends. “I’m the Black heir. Surprise.”

Susan had narrowed her eyes while Hannah was just shaking her head. “I’m not even
surprised anymore. I’ll just roll with it. But please, warn a girl next time.”

“Oh god.” Neville finally looked up. “That life debt…”

“Oh yeees.” Blaise was all teeth. “Isn’t it beautiful? Travers is soooo screwed!”
 They all flinched when Susan slammed her book shut, glaring at everyone clothed green.
“First: tell us next time. Merlin be damned, we’re your friends! And I’m going to be angry at
you for a while. Second: We’ve got other issues. Who’s going to check whether Hagrid is
raising an illegal dragon?”

All eyes turned to Harry.

“That much is obvious”, Susan said. “But who is going to supervise him so he doesn’t set the
thing on a student or something.”

“Hey!”

Susan glared at him.

Harry shut up.

“I’ll go!”

Susan eyed the dragon that held Blaise’s cloak together and frowned while tugging on some
bracelets she was wearing. “Fine. But someone else has to go too.”

“What about you?”, Blaise asked.

“My aunt is Amelia Bones. Do I need to say more?”

She really didn’t. There were things Harry wanted to get Hogwarts in trouble for. But Hagrid
being the one who got the blame was not on the agenda. And he knew the less Susan was
involved, the less likely anything was going to go wrong in such a way that her aunt would
find out.

“Neville?”

“M-me?” The Herbology book had been forgotten for the last few minutes while Neville had
tried to blend into the background.

“Or Hannah. Or Nott, if you can convince him. He seems the reasonable sort.”

While the discussion continued, Harry was just glad the only question was over who would
go, not whether they would go in the first place. It seemed his friends had given in to his
crazy urges. Then again, he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.

Chapter End Notes

So... I've been on a week-long reading binge and then switched my attention to an
ongoing arts and crafts project. So I haven't written very much in two weeks. And my
laptop is hanging on by its final thread. My attitude to writing right now is ambiguous at
best because I'm stuck at a scene I don't like and getting through it is so hard.
Not sure why I'm ranting here of all places, but I guess I needed to get it out. Oh well.
Back to staring at my blinking cursor.

Thanks for all the kudos and comments, though! That totally makes my day. And my
motivation will probably be back soon as well.
 Dragons bring people together
Chapter Summary

A dragon. Well then. At least Harry has more help this time around? And more plans
too, of course.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Monster Book of Monsters was lying on the table, colourful threads of yarn between the
pages, probably to mark Hagrid’s favourites. Harry had given it to him for Christmas in the
knowledge that the man would love it. He had been correct, of course, and had had to deal
with a half-giant crying 1. over the amazing gift and 2. over his uncle’s treatment of him.
Now it was open to the page of Norwegian Ridgebacks - for reasons that became obvious
when one looked into Hagrid’s fireplace.

The half-giant looked sheepishly at the floor to avoid seeing the gaping mouths of his
visitors, as well as the despairing looks they were trading.

His friend mumbled something into his beard while Blaise walked up to the fireplace to look
around the kettle at the huge black egg in the heart of the flames. “Is that a Norwegian
Ridgeback egg?” Blaise whistled. “Expensive. And dangerous.”

“Ah.” Hagrid tugged on his beard, beady eyes looking around the hut as if looking for a way
to escape. “That’s… er… I… I won it. Few days ago. I was down in the village, havin’ a few
drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter be rid of it, ter
be honest.”

Harry closed his eyes. There had been a small part of him that had hoped they could get
around this issue this time. It’s why he had started that rumour about Quirrell illegally
breeding dragons. But, as usual, nobody had paid any attention. And now Hagrid was trying
to raise a dragon in a wooden hut. He loved the half-giant, he truly did. But sometimes he
really thought the man must be mad.

“What are you planning to do with it?” Hannah walked around the table to stand next to
Blaise. “You live in a wooden house. And it’ll be much too big far too soon. It wouldn’t be
right to keep it cooped up here forever.”

The two had been introduced months ago, of course, but Hannah and Susan didn’t come with
him to visit Hagrid very often. In Susan’s case that was probably so she could plead innocent
on knowing about any of the, frankly, dangerous things Hagrid seemed to do on a regular
basis. Hannah just didn’t like the walk down here. She had come to “keep you from burning
down the school, you two morons”. She had sounded weirdly fond, though.
Hannah still knew Hagrid well enough to have figured out the only way they could approach
the issue. Harry was definitely impressed.

“Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow.
Some pages were creased or folded and Harry saw Hannah wince. “Got this outta the library
— Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in
here. Keep the egg in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe on em, see, an’ when it hatches,
feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here — how
ter recognize diff’rent eggs — Blaise is right; that’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare,
them.”

“And they grow to four times the size of your house. If not more”, Hannah said. “And they’re
from Norway. Not Great Britain. Hagrid…” She sounded truly sympathetic. “I don’t think
you can keep it. It’s not safe for either of you.”

The more she talked, the happier Harry was that Hannah had been the one to come with them.
Blaise was no help at all. He was just staring at the egg in fascination.

“How long until it hatches, do you think? I so want to be there!”, he said.

Case in point. Harry sighed. To be fair, it would be kind of cool to see a dragon hatching
(again). Hannah just watched the three of them in dismay.

It didn’t take long until Harry got a note during breakfast that only said It's hatching in
Hagrid’s chicken scratch.

The whole group had desperately been reading about Norwegian Ridgebacks since that
fateful day in Hagrid’s hut and by now knew more than they had ever wanted to. Some of the
more disturbing facts were that 1. they were venomous, 2. they were able to spit fire very
early into their development, 3. they grew incredibly fast, and 4. they looked very similar to
Hungarian Horntails, much to Harry’s displeasure.

Still, Harry, Blaise and even Theo hurried down to Hagrid’s hut after Transfiguration and
picked up Hannah at the green houses right after their Herbology session. Neville and Susan
were conspicuously absent.

“It’s nearly out”, Hagrid greeted them and hurriedly motioned them inside.

The egg was lying on the table with deep cracks running through the dark shell. It was
rocking back and forth, making weird clicking noises. It didn’t take long until it gave one
particularly loud chirp, there was a scraping noise not unlike the Slytherin common room
door sliding open and suddenly, there was a tiny baby dragon sitting on Hagrid’s table.

Hagrid and Blaise leaned forward. Everyone else leaned back.

It was kind of cute, Harry thought. A bit awkward-looking, maybe, with wings that seemed
far too big for its body, gangly limbs and a very confused expression in its orange eyes. When
it sneezed, Hannah leaned back even further to escape the sparks, giving Harry a look as if
this was all his fault.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hagrid murmured, then started to pet the creature while it tried to bite
him. “Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!”

“Can I pet him too?”

Maybe Susan had been right to insist on someone accompanying him because Blaise was too
far gone already.

“Hagrid.” That was Hannah again who was still eyeing the dragon suspiciously. “Norwegian
Ridgebacks are venomous.”

“Aww, it won’ do much. He’s a little baby! Where’s your mommy?” Hagrid continued to
scratch the dragon under its chin.

Blaise was carefully petting the tiny scales just behind its wings. At least he had enough self-
preservation to stay away from the fangs.

The door burst open and Harry’s wand was in his hand faster than anyone else could draw
theirs.

“Did I miss it? Has it already…?”

A breathless Ron Weasley was standing in the doorway, looking at the hut that was filled to
the brim with students - and mostly Slytherins, at that - a half-giant, and a dragon.

“Oh.”

At least that solved one of his problems, Harry thought. Even if it introduced some others.

“Ron! Glad you made it; come on in, come on in! He’s just hatched. Isn’ he gorgeous?”
Hagrid pulled the stunned boy into the hut, kicking the door shut after him and motioned
towards the dragon that was blinking lazily at him and making a chirping sound. “Aw, the
little guy is hungry. Gimme that bucket over there.”

Blaise handed it over, wrinkling his nose at what must be the smell of brandy and blood
coming from it. Hagrid took it and carefully put it in front of the little dragon.

What followed was the most interesting and the most revolting feeding session in the history
of mankind, with chicken blood and alcohol ending up all over the table, the floor, and
anyone who didn’t jump back in time. Hannah had probably been the smartest, hiding in the
shadow of Hagrid’s broad back to get out of the splash zone.

“He jus’ isn’t used ter eatin’ yet.” Hagrid looked like someone had upended the bucket over
him and everybody was keeping their distance.

The dragon burped and coughed up a small flame that singed the table.
“Hagrid… you can’t continue like this.” Hannah had dared to come out from behind him, but
still stayed very far away from the dragon hatchling.

Everyone else took a few steps closer as well while Harry did a cleaning charm on anyone
who hadn’t been as smart and fast as Hannah. Ron threw him a thankful look.

“But I cant jus’ put him outside; he’s too little. He’d die!”

“You can’t keep him here forever, Hagrid.” Harry tried to make his voice as apologetic as
possible, but could still see the pain in Hagrid’s eyes. “He’ll grow too big and won’t fit in
your hut. Or he’d burn it down. Or you wouldn’t be able to find enough food for him. You’d
neglect your duties just to care for him - you yourself said you have to feed him every thirty
minutes.”

“I know. But…”

“What about your duties? What about the thestrals? Fluffy? Are you going to forget about
them?”

Hagrid’s eyes were filling with tears. “I — I know I can’t keep him forever, but I can’t jus’
dump him, I can’t.”

“I could ask Charlie.” Ron hadn’t said a word so far and sounded slightly hesitant. “He works
on a dragon reserve and might be able to help.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “That’s actually a good idea. The twins mentioned him too.”

“-you know my brothers?”

“Of course! We’re friends!”

Something flickered in Ron’s expression at that, but then he just lowered his head. “I’ll write
him and let you know when he gets back to me. I… might need some help to transport…” He
glanced at the dragon.

“Norbert! I’ll name him Norbert!” Hagrid patted the dragon on the head, which snapped at
his fingers. “None o’ that, little Norbert.”

Here we go. Harry just sighed. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Of course the twins had to be involved when you wanted to smuggle a dragon out of
Hogwarts. Harry had thought about involving Dumbledore and just getting the man to
organise a semi-official trade-off, but he didn’t trust the headmaster, not even when it was for
Hagrid, who the man seemed to have a soft spot for. Everyone else was out of the question
for similar reasons.

So. The twins it was.

When Harry outlined the issue, they got a maniacal gleam in their eyes that made shivers run
down Harry’s spine.

“What do you need?”, said George.

“Stink bombs in the Great Hall?”

“Lunchtime flood?”

“Fireworks?”

“It has to be at night, for one, because Charlie’s friends refuse to smuggle an illegal dragon
out in daylight.”

“Honestly-

“-that’s fair.”

Harry thought so too. Though he would have preferred to get rid of the dragon sooner. This
way, they’d have to wait two weeks until Charlie’s friends were coming by. And it was a long
two weeks.

They checked in on Hagrid regularly, mostly to see whether he’d been poisoned by “Norbert”
and needed medical attention. Hannah offered to take Fang for walks - long ones - just to get
the absolutely terrified dog out of the cottage.

The dragon, meanwhile, was scarfing down rats, being pampered by Hagrid and knocking
over everything that wasn’t nailed to the wall. Even Hagrid started looking frazzled after the
first week. Harry, luckily, had accompanied him on enough of his ground keeper duties that
he could take over the most pressing of those. He also fed Fluffy, more often than not, and
had the three-headed dog lowering its heads for scratches by week two.

Neville often came with him - though Theo took over for Fluffy-duty - mostly because even
with a dragon complicating matters, none of his friends had forgotten that someone was out
to get Harry. Thus, the protection squad remained.

Apart from Fluffy, the thestrals scared him the most. Harry usually found them by wading
through the underbrush with a bucket of fresh meat and waiting until something nudged his
elbow to try to get to it. It became slightly less difficult when he realised that Neville could
see them.

His friend never told him who he’d seen die. Harry never asked.

“They’re just so… creepy. I don’t know how you can stand to touch them.”

As usual, Neville was staying multiple feet away, shuffling his feet and trying to look
anywhere but at the skeletal horses.

“I don’t care what they supposedly look like. They’re nice.” Harry scratched what he
assumed was a thestral neck, the skin feeling like leather under his fingers.
That was one disadvantage of not being able to see them - it might as well be its behind, but
Harry thought he could feel the mane next to the smooth skin, muscle and underlying bone,
and he could hear the breathing more clearly here. His theory was confirmed when something
nudged his hand, asking for more meat.

“They’re still creepy.”

Harry shrugged and offered another piece of meat to the creature, then watched in fascination
as the meat was ripped apart and disappeared into an invisible mouth.

“H-harry.”

“It’s fine. They’re not dangerous. Much, anyway.”

“H-harry…”

Harry looked up. Because while Neville was scared of the thestrals, he’d gotten over the
worst of his fear days ago and he had more faith in his friend than this.

There was a centaur standing in the middle of the meadow. His bow was luckily on his back,
along with a quiver of arrows, and although his hands were hanging by his sides, his tail was
swishing nervously from side to side.

“Harry Potter”, he said.

“Evans-Potter”, said Neville.

The half-palomino looked surprised. Harry did as well. Neville hadn’t even stuttered.

“My name is Firenze and I came to warn you. The forest isn’t safe for you”, said the centaur.

“Yeah, I know. But Quirrell is teaching DADA right now, so he can’t be in here hunting
unicorns.”

He received two vacant stares for that one.

“I’m thankful you tried to warn me anyway. How are the unicorns doing?”

“…they’re fine...”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Keep an eye out towards the end of May.”

“…”

“I really do appreciate your warning, though. Thank you, Firenze.”

The centaur nodded at him, then disappeared back into the trees. Neville looked at him. Harry
tried not to look at Neville.

“What. The hell.”

“Weird things continue to happen to me. I thought you knew that.”

Harry wanted to share his Quirrell theory with Neville, he really did. But he wasn’t sure
whether his friend would be able to attend DADA if he did and that might tip off the
possessed professor, so he kept his mouth shut.

Because history tended to repeat itself, Malfoy found out about the dragon a few days before
they were going to get rid of it. It may have been a bit suspicious to see Harry, Blaise and
Theo scrambling around Hagrid’s hut and doing his job and Blaise may have asked a few too
many pointed questions about Norwegian Ridgebacks in the dorm room.

Harry sighed. And then he waited until they were on their way back to the common room
after class, then dragged a confused Malfoy behind a tapestry.

“Evans-Potter. To what do I owe the…” He sneered at the dusty passageway. “…pleasure?”

“I know you know about the dragon.”

The other boy looked slightly caught off-guard by Harry’s directness, but soon schooled his
features into a mask again.

“Indeed.”

“So. I’m going to give you some advice and we’ll call it quits and you won’t say a word
about it to anyone else.”

“Is that a threat?” Malfoy tried to puff up, but only managed to look like a bedraggled kitten,
in Harry’s opinion.

“No. It’s… you could say an offer. An alliance.”

A few moments passed while Malfoy cocked his head. “I’m listening.”

“You probably also know about the anti love potion campaign I’m doing, either from the
paper or from listening to us discuss is.”

“I’d be deaf if I didn’t. You’ve been talking about it in the dorm for weeks.”

The impact of the article had been slightly less than expected. Everybody at school who
shared his opinion had already vented about it when he had found the potion in his mail and
everybody outside of Hogwarts was more preoccupied with the bludger-assassination plot.
Even Dumbledore's only reaction seemed to be confusion as to why there wasn't a hail of
owls at the Slytherin table.

Which meant it was time for part two of the agenda.

“Exactly. Your father is on the Wizengamot and will be voting on this. And so far, I think
he’d be more inclined to vote against it, if only to preserve the status quo.”
Malfoy looked decidedly uncomfortable by now. “So? It’s politics. You can’t expect
everyone to be on your side.”

“I know. And that’s where you come in. Of course you don’t have to do it. But if you want to
impress your father, you could tell him this. Imagine you come from a very old family,
pureblood, even, and you only have one son to continue the line. And he is given a love
potion by a muggleborn witch. And they marry. And they have kids. And then they'll be very
sorry, now won't they.”

Malfoy’s eyes had gone wide. “But… you don’t hate mud-… muggleborns.”

“I don’t. But this is politics.”

Something like understanding sparked on Malfoy’s face at the same time that his eyebrows
drew together. “So you want me to convince my dad to support your campaign? How does
that help me? And what does it have to do with the dragon?”

Harry shrugged. “It shows your father that you’re thinking critically about politics. And it
shows me that you can think for yourself and don’t just parrot your father. But like I said.
You don’t have to. This is completely your choice.”

Malfoy bit his lip. “And we’d be allies?”

“If you want.”

There was yet another pause while Harry tried to keep his fists relaxed at his side and his
expression open. Even if Malfoy told people about the dragon, the professors probably
wouldn’t believe him. Besides, Dumbledore knew about it anyway and would probably try to
keep the rumours down, if only to prevent another incident at Hogwarts from ending up in
the papers.

And this was a good deal. Because Harry didn’t just offer advice on how to gain his father’s
approval - which was something Malfoy Junior was desperate for. He had offered an alliance
between Draco Malfoy and Harry Evans-Potter specifically, which may be more personal in
theory, but might as well turn political when they were grown-ups and include the House
Black.

“I’ll think about it and let you know”, the other boy said diplomatically.

“Get back to me when you’ve decided.”

Malfoy left the passageway in a hurry. Harry left it at a slow place, now relaxed. At this
point, he knew how this would play out. It was the sensible thing to walk away without
giving a definite answer, but there was really only one he could give.

Barely a day later, Malfoy dragged him off to a corner after class to offer his hand and Harry
couldn’t keep the grin off his face for the rest of the day after he shook it.

This dragon turned out to be a gift that kept on giving. And he’d be sure to use the situation
to his advantage as much as possible.
 -

The second Saturday didn’t come fast enough, but it came, at last. Their little group gathered
in an empty classroom right after dinner. The most nervous-looking one of them was
probably Hermione Granger, who had been dragged in by Ron. As Neville’s friends who
didn’t have much to do with the rest of them, the two stood a little to the side. The most
excited-looking were probably the twins. Everyone else just looked apprehensive.

“Alright, the plan”, Susan began. “Theo, Neville and me will stay up and keep an eye on the
common rooms. If necessary, we’ll distract any people who are still up and smuggle all the
participants back in safely.”

She got some nods in return, even though Neville and Theo were making trying to meld into
the walls a competition. Susan herself had stood strong in her belief that she couldn’t be an
active participant in this, but she was the one who had collected all the individual ideas and
forced them into the semblance of a plan. She had, inadvertently, become their game master.

“The retrieval team is Blaise and Hannah. You’ll be going down to Hagrid’s to pick up…
Norbert… at 11pm. It should be dark enough that you can sneak past anyone doing rounds.”

Nods all around, although the Norbert team looked decidedly nervous.

“On to the next part”, said Susan. “We’ll go into the secret hallway on the ground floor,
where Ron and Hermione” she wrinkled her nose “will be waiting to help us with all the
stairs.”

Norbert had grown exponentially over the last few weeks and Harry privately thought
transporting him with four people might risk exposure more, but was probably faster overall.
And they had decided seeing a Weasley with them would probably reassure the dragon
tamers they had the right group of students.

“Harry has provided a sleeping draught, which we’ll inject into a rat. Hopefully, that will
keep Norbert quiet on the journey. Together, you’ll - as silently as possible - make your way
to the tower.”

The sleeping draught had been his idea; he’d never been happier that he kept some of all of
his created potions under a stasis charm. This particular one had been brewed with the help of
Petunia, funny enough.

“The twins and Harry are on distraction duty.” Ron opened his mouth, probably to argue, but
was silenced by a glare from the Hufflepuff girl. “Start making a ruckus at the other side of
the castle about ten to fifteen minutes before midnight to draw everybody away.”

The timing with that was crucial. It had to be close enough to the allotted time to lure anyone
near the tower far enough away so that the Norbert-group could sneak the dragon up there. It
shouldn’t leave too much time for the teachers to call for reinforcements, though, which
would make returning to the common rooms - which were all over the castle - nigh
impossible.
“Aye aye, ma’am!” George saluted.

“Your word is our command”, added Fred.

Harry just grinned while Susan narrowed her eyes at them.

“Do not get caught. Any of you.”

They all exchanged some looks, but nodded. Hermione was twisting her hair with one hand
and chewing on the nails of her other one, but didn’t protest. Whatever Ron may have done to
make her take this risk, Harry didn’t want to know. He also felt she was the weakest link and
person voted most-likely-to-snitch-on-them-all.

Hannah seemed to have similar doubts. “If one of us goes down, you take it like a champ and
don’t snitch on anyone else. Capiche? Some of us have more to lose than others.” Her eyes
flickered towards Susan on that one, whose mouth was a grim line.

And so Harry found himself sneaking through the castle at night again. It helped that the
twins were accompanying him. And that they had the marauder’s map. And an invisibility
cloak. He’d thought about giving on of the items to his friends, but that would have 1. given
away that the items existed to some people he didn’t trust and 2. the whole point of them
creating a distraction was for them to draw anyone awake towards them, which meant they
probably needed every advantage they could get.

“I owe you for this one”, Harry whispered to the twins when they met up in front of the
kitchens, having just watched Hannah sneak past them and disappear towards the entrance
hall with a tiny wave.

“You so don’t.”

“You saved us from Quirrell in the forest.”

“Though your plan for a distraction is…” George trailed off and exchanged a look with his
twin. “You’re not doing it for no reason, are you?”

“Cuz then we could just set off some fireworks and run.”

“Or trap Filch in a closet, screaming bloody murder.”

“Or…”

“I promise, I have a reason”, Harry said.

“…alright then. We trust you.”

The house elves were very helpful and provided them with some hot chocolate while they
waited. By now, Harry was very sure that Dumbledore must know exactly what was going on
tonight and had always known.
There was no way he hadn’t noticed Hagrid’s deteriorating state during the last fortnight.
There was no way he wouldn’t notice the wards admit a group of dragon tamers on brooms.
There was no way Madam Pomfrey hadn’t told him about Ron’s weird bite last time, and no
way the house elves wouldn’t notify him of their late-night visit this time. But Harry was
reasonably sure the man wouldn’t interfere and would, in fact, be secretly pleased about the
whole thing.

Which was another reason why he was doing this in the first place.

“Alright, it’s half past. Get into position.”

Harry threw the cloak over them all, though they had to walk while crouching slightly
because three people were one too many. Harry held the map and kept an eye on the flurry of
dots moving around tonight.

The three silent members of their team were pacing in the common rooms. The two dots of
Ron and Hermione were waiting behind a hidden door on the ground floor. Two dots labelled
Hannah and Blaise were walking very slowly across the school grounds, having left Hagrid’s
hut a while ago and nearing the school gates.

So far so good.

They moved back towards the entrance hall, then froze when Peeves stopped a few feet away
from them. “Who’s sneaking around all invisible?”

Of course. Then again, this had worked once…

“How dare you stop the Bloody Baron”, Harry thundered.

He had the advantage of knowing exactly what the Baron sounded like now and watched
Peeves freeze in mid-air and, if possible, grow paler.

“And stay away from the Dungeons tonight. I have business there”, intoned Harry.

“Of course, your bloodiness, Mr Baron, Sir!”

And after a few more smarmy titles the ghost was off and Harry was left being stared at by
the Weasley twins with awe in their eyes.

“That-“

“-was bloody brilliant.”

Harry, not being able to bow without taking off the cloak, curtsied instead. “I live to
entertain. Now. Back to business.”

The map told them that Peeves was now a few corridors down, everyone else was still in
position, and Blaise and Hannah…
…the Hogwarts doors swung open quietly, admitting two dark shadows which were hefting a
big crate between them. They squeezed themselves through the large double doors, then
continued on towards a corridor on the other side of the hall. When the map showed them
safely ensconced in the hidden corridor, Harry nudged the twins.

The two left the safety of the invisibility cloak, creeping along the wall. Harry immediately
felt more cold and alone, but pushed the feelings down. Instead, he focused on the plan.

It was a quarter to twelve. He tapped his foot just loud enough to mimick the ticking of a
clock.

One.

Two.

Three.

There was an almighty crash as three sets of armour came tumbling to the ground. It echoed
through the hall, the noise making its way along the hallways of the school. Harry moved one
over, as did Fred and George. Then another crash, as three more metal knights were toppled.

It was absolutely ear-splitting. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if they’d woken the dead and
Hogwarts would have an extra ghost or two come tomorrow.

Mehen was tightening around his arm, having insisted on coming too. Harry ignored him,
instead keeping an eye out for the twins. One glance at the map told him both Peeves and
Professor McGonagall were on their way. And the twins were still two shadows, now
sprinting along the wall. Harry lifted the cloak so his feet were visible.

Just as the Transfiguration professor turned the corner, Harry let the cloak fall back over all
of them. He would have heaved a sigh of relief, but then had to hold in his snickering when
he saw the stern woman in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net.

“Peeves! What are you doing?!”

The ghost, who had arrived from the other direction, chuckled.

“Wasn’t me, kitty-catty.” He cackled. “Must’ve been students. Students sneaking around at
night.”

“I swear, Peeves, if you…”

They left the two screaming at each other and instead melded into the shadow of a doorway,
walking a bit until the shouting match could only be heard in the distance.

“Well that was-“

“-perfect timing.”

Harry could feel the twins look at him. “I’m just that good.”
They snorted. “Next part?”

“Next part”, Harry agreed. “You take the map, I take the cloak. Let’s give them a show,
boys.”

Fred and George’s grins were gleaming in the darkness. They saluted, then disappeared into
the shadows. Harry tucked the cloak more tightly around him, then started towards the
dungeons.

He felt a bit bad about it, but if he wanted everybody to take notice and, most importantly,
come to the wrong conclusions, his next stop was Filch’s office. The lock was unlocked with
a simple alohomora and Harry was soon standing inside and looking around for something to
destroy.

The folders on different students seemed like an ideal place to start.

Harry opened the drawer and was about to cast a fire spell - when he grinned and took a few
of them out. He shrunk them and stuffed them in his robe pocket, then put his hand around
the crystal. There was no way he was going to risk being exposed by a priori incantato.

There was a spark, a tiny flame, then soon a raging inferno. Harry had made sure to choose
the locker farthest away from anything important or personal - and also made sure Mrs Norris
was far far away from here - but it was still destroying quite a bit of the room. Paper made a
great fire-starter and the wooden cabinet didn’t stand a chance. Harry didn’t stick around
much longer, instead embedding his rune stone into the bottom of the door after he’d asked
Kreacher to bury the other one under the threshold two days ago.

And then he ran like hell.

An ear-splitting screeching echoed through the corridor, amplified by the stone walls. Harry
had let George do an alarm spell while he recorded it with the stone - another way to not use
his wand.

By now, the Weasley twins would have set off some of Filibuster’s fireworks in the Great
Hall and should be making their way to one of the towers furthest away from the Astronomy
Tower to set off some dung bombs too.

Instead of going back to the Slytherin common room, Harry stopped right outside of Snape’s
office - which, conveniently, was connected to his personal quarters. And he didn’t have to
wait long.

A thoroughly disgruntled potion master, muttering under his breath about what he was going
to do to whoever had just pretty much screamed him out of bed, opened the door. Harry
immediately knew he would be dead by the end of the night if he was caught by the look in
his eyes.

The door banged against the dungeon wall - it didn’t add much to the overall noise - and the
man strode off. Not before Harry had slipped in through the door, though.
He had been in Snape’s office enough to get an idea of the man’s security measures. Kreacher
had followed him once, invisible, when he’d brought some possibly-potioned-chocolate and
as long as the door was opened by Snape when he entered, the man hadn’t noticed a thing.
They had once tried the alternate option. That one hadn’t gone very well.

The office was dark and even the screeching from outside was muffled. It felt a bit like being
in the cave of an evil sorcerer: the embers of a dying fire casting the barest glow, just enough
to illuminate all the ominous pickled creatures in glasses and evilly glinting potion bottles.

Harry knew where Snape’s personal stores were and made his way there on quiet feet. He’d
faked a headache once while the professor had been checking another batch of sweets and
gotten a glimpse of how the man organised and locked it all. A nice side effect was that he
could just pretend his scar was hurting because of Quirrell later on and, in fact, had been
spreading that particular rumour amongst some of the professors for months.

The potion he was looking for was at the very back, tucked into a corner with sleeping
draughts. It wasn’t used very often, so there were only three flasks. Harry snatched one and
carefully placed it in a different pocket to the files from Filch’s office. Just before he closed
the drawer, another bottle caught his eyes.

Well that was just dumb.

Harry pocketed that one too, just in case. The alarm was still wailing - and would continue to
do so until either nobody opened or closed the door anymore and the runtime of the recording
ran out, or Harry removed the rune stone.

The good news was that Snape’s security was pretty much laughable. Even fake-Moody had
managed to break into his ingredient stores - hell, Hermione had stolen stuff in their second
year, albeit from the classroom storage. Another thing to put on the list of things that needed
changing - as soon as Harry was done abusing the situation, of course.

Opening the door from the inside set off no alarm of any sort - as, once again, tested by
Kreacher staying behind one time and then sneaking out undetected.

Snape was busy swearing up a storm and fighting the fire raging in Filch’s office. By now,
the caretaker had joined him; his screams of bloody murder could be heard even over the
alarm. The man looked apoplectic, screaming about Mrs Norris. Harry felt almost bad about
it. But as long as the cat was safe, he didn’t feel bad enough to calm the man down right this
moment.

Instead of tiptoeing off towards the Slytherin dorm, Harry crept up the stairs, back towards
the ground floor. The suits of armour were still scattered in the entrance hall, McGonagall
and Peeves nowhere to be seen. That probably meant the twins had done their job as well and
lured them off, which meant Harry was free to go to the secret corridor to collect a rattled-
looking Hufflepuff and Slytherin, who jumped when Harry pulled back the tapestry.

“…Harry?”
“Don’t scream. I’m invisible. Snape is currently dealing with Filch’s burning office, so I’m
going to sneak you back to the common rooms under here.”

Harry lifted the cloak a bit, glad for the warning because Hannah sucked in a breath of air
anyway as if desperately trying to keep herself calm when she saw her friend’s cut-off feet.

“And you couldn’t have told us that before…?”, she asked weakly. “I mean… you said you’d
pick us up here, but…”

“I… kind of forgot.”

“…Susan is going to kill you…”, Blaise stated.

“Yup. But she can kill me later or Snape will do it for her. Come on, move it.”

The two ducked under the cloak and the trio were soon shuffling their way back down the
stairs. The alarm had stopped by now, which was a shame, as it would have muffled their
steps some more. If his sound muffling spell failed, at least. Luckily, the Hufflepuff common
room and kitchens were farther away from the mayhem and Hannah was safely delivered into
the waiting arms of Susan.

The girl lifted an eyebrow at the empty air greeting her behind the portrait. That soon turned
into a sigh when her friends appeared from just that air and Hannah ducked inside next to her.

“We’re going to have words. Tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The way to Slytherin was more fraught with angry potion masters, cats and crying caretakers,
but they managed to sneak past them, Filch’s relieved sobs as he held Mrs Norris to his chest
hiding their steps, ringing in his ears and making Harry feel very bad indeed.

Harry knocked once, as quietly as he could, and Theo opened the door from the inside. Blaise
had given him a look when Harry had first taken off the invisibility cloak - but he still hadn’t
gotten a good read on Theo, so this was a secret he was not prepared to reveal just yet.

The common room was completely dark, not even a fire burning in the fireplace. Some of the
stone snakes lifted their heads, but when they saw that Harry wasn’t alone they quickly
played uninterested again, as instructed.

“Did everything work out?”, Theo whispered.

“Yes, but let’s get back to the dorm first. Snape is pissed.” Harry paused. “So is Filch. And
McGonagall. Let’s be honest, everybody will be very pissed by now.”

Despite the dorm now being a safe space - tonight even more so, as Harry had mixed some of
the sleeping draught into the other boys’ drinks - Harry had never taken the permanent spells
off his bed. Thus, the three found themselves huddled on there, with the curtains closed and
an extra noise-cancelling spell active for good measure and cast with his crystal yet again.
“Did… did you just do wandless magic?” Theo was looking at him a bit like on the day they
had become friends.

“So? We all do it before Hogwarts. I just never stopped.”

“…”

“Don’t say it-”, Harry pleaded.

“But you are terrifying.”

“And I’m starting to believe him”, mumbled Blaise.

“Anyway, what happened with Norbert?”, Harry asked.

“Oh! That went well. Hagrid was a crying mess, of course. Gave it some rats, brandy and a
teddy bear. I’m pretty sure that didn’t even survive until Norbert fell asleep somewhere
between Hagrid’s hut and the castle. It got a bit easier after that because the crate wasn’t
moving as much - the sleeping draught idea was genius!”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Weasley and Granger were waiting and by then we really needed the help. Even if they
looked like they’d pass out from fear immediately. That crate was heavy. But we got it up to
the astronomy tower and Weasley’s mates came just on time. We heard that enormous crash
as well - what the hell did you do?”

“Knocked over some suits of armour in the entrance hall. Then Fred and George set off
fireworks and stink bombs and I caused some chaos in the dungeons.”

“Wasn’t that, I don’t know, kind of counterproductive?”, Theo asked. “You must’ve had to
sneak past to get back to the common room.”

“I had my own things to do tonight.”

Using the dragon heist as an excuse so the teachers’ attention was split to multiple parts of
the castle had just been a bonus. He’d needed a way to make Snape leave his rooms fast, so
he wouldn’t have time to secure them properly. The alarm from Travers, Rosier and Jugson
trying to sneak into their dorm room had given him the idea because Snape had arrived much
too fast for him to have done more than don a robe and sprint out of his rooms.

“Besides, they’ll think what I did was what everybody was being distracted from, so if it falls
back on someone, it’s going to be me and none of you.”

“…are you sure you’re not a Gryffindor?” Blaise looked him up and down. “Because that
sounds reckless and disgustingly noble of you.”

Harry just shrugged. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna find out. And if they do, I’m sure I can
make Quirrell take the fall.”
That made some eyebrows rise, but Harry refused to answer any more questions, especially
not in a sleep-deprived state. Consequently, he threw everybody out of his bed to get at least a
bit of sleep and seem less suspicious tomorrow. The only thing he did before falling asleep
was to call Kreacher and got him to take the files from Filch’s office to Grimmauld Place for
safekeeping and hide the potions in the Room of Requirement. If Snape found those in their
dorm…

He told the elf to put the bottle that would allow him to move through the black flames in
Snape’s riddle room with the red and black rune stones he still kept in a desk with burn marks
in the Room of Requirement - with strict instructions to touch neither of them.

After all, you never knew. Those might come in handy.

The next day was interesting, to say the least. The Slytherins were the first to realise
something was up when they walked to breakfast and saw the singed caretaker office on the
way. They realised something was seriously wrong when every single professor was present
for breakfast, even though both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall looked
disgruntled and sleep-deprived.

Of course that may have been because they’d spent half the night removing burn marks from
Filch’s office and the Great Hall.

Luckily, nobody from the dragon crew looked as tired as could be expected, despite running
halfway across the school and lugging an illegal dragon up many stairs, so it shouldn’t be
immediately obvious who was responsible. Dumbledore must know, of course. And Snape
would definitely suspect and might find out via legilimency. Harry wouldn’t even try to hide
his thoughts on the dragon rescue - as long as he kept breaking into Snape’s stores out of it.
That would be a death sentence.

There was no announcement or investigation, as far as Harry could tell, although Snape was
glaring at him specifically, clearly not convinced by his innocent surface thoughts. Well.
Goodbye to that short truce.

They did check up on Hagrid later that day to find the half-giant in tears and staring at
Norbert’s egg shells that he had put on his kitchen table. It didn’t help that he was also
mourning a dead unicorn that he had found in the forest - Harry was going to have strong
words with the centaurs about that one.

“Everything is… dying. Or leaving. Or…”

“He’ll be much better at the Dragon Reserve, Hagrid. He’ll have a large space to roam in,
other dragons… he might even find a mate and become a father one day”, Hannah tried to
calm him down.

Harry secretly thought about correcting everyone about Norbert’s gender, but had already
decided beforehand that explaining how he knew that was more complicated than just letting
things play out. Besides, he didn’t particularly care.
“I know that. I do. But I still miss him!” Hagrid blew his nose on a giant handkerchief.

“You still have Fluffy”, Harry said and gained some exasperated looks from everybody else.

The only other notable thing that happened was the talk about trusting your friends with
important information for a nighttime mission from Susan.

The next week was much less taxing and even Hermione, who jumped at every shadow,
calmed down eventually.

While Ron and Hermione had helped with the dragon, they still weren’t quite part of the
study group, but had at least stopped complaining about it, which gave Harry some hope. The
rest of their group threw themselves into their studies with vigour, having lost some time
because of Norbert.

Everybody could be found in the library most of the time, brooding over books and papers
and homework. Or, in Harry’s case, writing muggle letters back to Dudley’s (and now his)
friends, and despairing over runes. He’d finally managed to sneak into the Room of
Requirement a few days after the dragon heist. To get around the portrait snake spies, he’d
entered the common room normally, gone up to the dorms, then come back down under his
invisibility cloak and snuck out behind some other Slytherin.

It wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit of, but he was tired of waiting. He’d actually
managed to try out changing which rune sequences were activated. The result was that the
apple he’d put into the cabinet had actually been transported to Grimmauld and back -
Kreacher had checked - without being sliced in half. He’d tried it with a mouse, which may
have had Mehen complaining how his dinner was being misused, but turned out alright when
it arrived alive and whole.

He’d actually managed to turn on the right runes.

Harry allowed himself a small victory dance. And then he debated using the cabinet himself.
He stood in front of the open door long enough for Mehen to poke his head out of the sleeve
inquisitively and Kreacher to come looking for him as well.

:Are you actually going to do it?:, the snake asked.

“Young Master is not actually going in the box?”, Kreacher asked.

“…there’s not really another way to find out whether it really works at this point.”

The house elf tugged on his ears, then paused. “Kreacher be doing it.”

“What?”

“Kreacher be doing it! That way we knowing if it be working.”

Harry bit his lip. “I’m not sure…”

“Young Master think the box be working, right?”

“…yes.”

“And Young Master would try the box himself, right?”

“…yes.”

“Then there be no problem with Kreacher going first.” The elf nodded, determination in his
eyes, and Harry knew he had lost this battle of wills and logic.

“Alright, I’ll explain how this works.”

It didn’t take long because it was basically just entering the vanishing cabinet and closing the
doors and then arriving at wherever the second one was. In this case, Kreacher had deposited
it in Grimmauld Place’s kitchen because there were no portraits whatsoever and you could
easily reach Walburga’s portrait from there.

Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his cloak, then looked at Kreacher, who was sitting in the
vanishing cabinet, fidgeting with his clean dish towel.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Young Master Harry! You be closing the door now.”

“If anything goes wrong, I want you to come back here immediately so I can help you. And
that is an order.”

“Yes, Master Harry!”

He usually didn’t like giving direct orders, but having Kreacher possibly hurt and alone at
Grimmauld Place was not something he was going to risk. From the Regulus story it was
clear that the elf could get away even wounded, so Harry hoped…

He closed the door.

There was no sound whatsoever. No sign that anything had happened.

Harry waited a bit.

:Is he gone?: Mehen was poking out of his sleeve again, tongue flicking and head swaying
nervously.

Harry opened the door.

There was no one in the vanishing cabinet; it was completely empty. Harry poked his head in
just in case, but there was no sign of Kreacher.

:He’s definitely gone. Now there’s just the question whether he’s actually made it to
Grimmauld - and whether he can come back.:
He closed the door. And stared at it. And stared some more. And started pacing in front of it.

:Relax:, Mehen told him. :You were going to use it yourself, so you must think it’s safe.:

:Yes, but I still worry! Kreacher is… Kreacher is family.:

That was the first time he had said it out loud and it made him stop walking. The elf was
family. And Walburga was too. If that made him crazy for loving a portrait and a house elf,
then he didn’t have a problem with it. Waiting to find out whether he was responsible for
hurting a member of his family was actual torture.

The door of the cabinet opened. First to exit was one of Kreacher’s long ears. It was followed
by his wrinkled face with a broad grin.

“It be working, Young Master! I be coming from Grimmauld Place kitchen!”

Harry had to hold himself back from hugging the elf - that was far more likely to give him a
heart attack than an accident with the vanishing cabinet, after all - but grinned back at him.

“Perfect! I’ll go visit Aunt Walburga then.”

Kreacher’s grin broadened. “Oh, Mistress will be so happy!”

Harry took another deep breath, then entered the vanishing cabinet.

It brought back flashbacks from his memories. He was reminded of the time when he had
hidden in it from Malfoy in Borgin and Burke in his second year, though that time he hadn’t
closed the door. Luckily. This time, he tugged it towards him until he was completely
enclosed in darkness. Mehen was still wound around his wrist and was breathing faster than
normal too and squeezing his arm way too tightly.

There was a strange prickling sensation in his stomach that expanded until his whole body
was tingling. Mehen let out a confused hiss. Then there was a tug at his navel, not unlike
during apparition. Then the tingling returned and vanished as if nothing had ever happened.

:…Harry? That was weird.:

Harry just nodded and then pushed open the door with shaking hands.

He was greeted by a familiar view. But it wasn’t the room of lost things. Instead, he found
himself staring at the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, where he had eaten many a lunch or
dinner prepared by an overzealous house elf. Light was shining through the curtains and
basking the table in it. Harry found himself running his hand over the scratches in the wood,
as if making sure it was actually real.

“I did it.”

His voice echoed against the tiled walls, as did his breathless laughter.

“I actually did it.”

The door to the vanishing cabinet opened again and Kreacher poked his head out. “This will
save me magic going back and forth and back and forth! Master Harry, can the box transport
thingies too?”

“Sure. You can put anything in there and it’ll come out the other end.”

The elf did a happy dance, probably thinking about how much easier transporting sellable
items to London would be. “You be talking to Mistress now?”

Harry found his grin growing brighter as well. “Oh yes.”

There were no other portraits on the way from the kitchen to the hallway and he was soon
nearing his Great-Aunt. Kreacher was bouncing next to him, apparently unable to keep still.

“Well met, Aunt Walburga.”

The portrait startled, eyes growing wide. “Harry?!”

He managed to muffle a snort. This had been the first time she hadn’t used a proper greeting.
He’d so remind her of that when she scolded him for his language the next time.

“Yes. How nice to see you on this sunny day.”

She stared at him and continued to do so for half a minute. “…what exactly are you doing
here? Did anything happen at Hogwarts? Did Kreacher have to pop you away?”

“Oh no, nothing of the sort. I figured it was time to tell you about your Christmas present.
I’m sorry it took so long.”

She motioned for him to continue, but was also leaning forward curiously.

“You remember that vanishing cabinet I bought? Turns out the second one is at Hogwarts.
And I repaired it and can now go back and forth between the school and Grimmauld as much
as I like without the headmaster noticing a thing. Merry Christmas. You’ll see me a lot more
often during school time now.”

Walburga stared again, mouth hanging open.

“Aunt Walburga? Are you well?” Harry turned towards Kreacher. “Do you think I broke
her?” Harry tilted his head.

“…I think that’s the first time Mistress be actually speechless”, Kreacher whispered.

It took a full minute until the portrait had recovered from the shock, but then was quickly
heaping praises on him - and demanding he show up more often for etiquette lessons. Harry
had to admit that during this school year that may prove difficult, seeing as he was under
constant supervision, but that they would definitely take advantage of this during the next
school year.
 Not to mention all the other possibilities! He would be able to store anything here that he
didn’t want people to find and would be able to pick it up by just vising the Room of
Requirement. He might even be able to go out into the muggle world sometimes if Hogwarts
got a bit stifling.

“Young Master Harry be genius”, Kreacher finally declared, looking up at him in awe.

When Aunt Walburga didn’t contradict the house elf, Harry found himself smiling yet again.

He had to return to Hogwarts eventually, but even tinkering with the red gemstone and
managing to transfigure it a bit and imbue it with more magic didn’t make him feel half as
happy as the success of the vanishing cabinet.

He had an emergency exit now.

Chapter End Notes

I'm still stuck on my embroidery project, but I think my motivation is slowly returning.
So yay for that. I also like this chapter more again, so that might be a good sign?
Anyway. Thanks for all the comments and I hope you enjoy this one!
 Two Snakes
Chapter Summary

There are a few idiots in the world. Harry might be one of them.
At least Aunt Walburga would think so.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It didn’t seem like the professors had been lucky enough to get a warning because all of them
were staring down at their identical letters, frowning. Some looked intrigued or even
approving like Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. Some looked confused like Professor
McGonagall. Some looked scared or downright angry like Quirrell, Snape and Dumbledore,
whose expression looked like he’d eaten a particularly sour lemon drop.

It had still been a surprise to get an official summons from Madam Bones for an interview,
even when Susan had warned him beforehand.

“What is it, Harry?” Blaise was leaning over.

“Oh, nothing. It just seems Madam Bones is taking the attempts on my life very serious and
has finally gotten permission to interview everyone involved.”

His friend’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…”

“Oh yes. She’s coming to Hogwarts and interviewing everyone. Seems like that was the
caveat she was given, as everyone involved is already here. And she can’t take a full team of
aurors. But hey. It’s a start.”

“I’ll say.” Theo, who was sitting on his other side, leaned over to read through the letter as
well. “I can’t remember the last time an outsider, and a ministry person no less, got access to
Hogwarts in this manner.”

Harry just shrugged. “About time if you ask me. The castle should have been swarming with
aurors after the troll debacle. But better late than never.”

Maybe they were also taking him more seriously because of the anti-love-potion campaign he
had started. It had been over a month now and the whole thing had really kicked off,
especially when Lucius Malfoy, of all people, had started arguing for instead of against it.

Draco Malfoy had caught his eye during breakfast when a comment of his father defending
the motion had made it into the newspaper. They had shared a nod and then focused back on
their food. There had been some thoughtful looks from the upper years too, which Harry
ignored. This wasn’t the time for alliances with people he didn’t have a read on.

Rita Skeeter’s article had been slightly less debated than her previous ones, but it had still
garnered public interest and, oftentimes, outrage. When people finally got over the
assassination attempt and read the follow-ups, they slowly started thinking about love potion
in the context of loved ones and themselves - they were also starting to realise the extent of
what could be done with them. A lot of parents had started writing letters to the editor and a
few particularly vicious or thoughtful ones had been published.

Overall, despite the slow start, his cause was gaining momentum.

The ministry was mostly doing damage control at this point. Taking him more seriously in
general seemed to be a side effect. Or maybe Fudge simply had so much to deal with that
Madam Bones had managed to sneak in this visit without him even noticing. Harry would
make sure to ask her as soon as they met outside of the school.

The interviews were set for the next Friday and Harry found himself almost gleeful when he
was the first to be called in right after breakfast, leaving the teachers debating about the
upcoming interrogation.

Harry wasn’t worried at all. Maybe a little about missing potions, but Blaise, Theo and
Neville would be taking notes for him.

“Hello, Mr Evans-Potter.”

He nodded at her. “Madam Bones.”

Work mode then. Alright.

“As I have stated in the letter, today I am questioning several witnesses about the incident
that took place during the first quidditch match of the year. First, I would like you to relate
the events in your own words.”

And he did. In excruciating detail - along with what kinds of conclusions he had come to
regarding the perpetrator, the precautionary measures his friends had deemed necessary since
the incident, the lack of response from the staff and the headmaster, as well as his constant
fear that whoever had targeted him would do so again.

Said friends were waiting outside of the unused classroom that had been turned into an
impromptu office. Susan gave her aunt a quick hug, then walked off with Harry.

“So?”, she wanted to know.

“I just told her what happened. Nothing more, nothing less. Guess we’ll have to see whether
she gains anything interesting from one of the professors.”

Harry would be disappointed if not, but his strategy would pay off either way. Because that
wasn’t the point.
The point was that this set a precedent for how Hogwarts and the Ministry would deal with
these things in the future. If the head of the DMLE had been allowed to conduct interviews
on school grounds regarding a matter that had happened during school time on Hogwarts
grounds, she would be allowed to do it again. And that was a step up from before.

“You’re looking very smug, Harry”, remarked Hannah.

Oops. Scheming face.

"Well, let’s just say it’s a start.”

And what a start it was. Pretty much every single professor was interrogated over the course
of the day, to much cheering of the students population when some lessons had to be
cancelled. Only the Ravenclaws were grumbling about this happening right before exam
time.

The best thing was that Quirrell was positively shaking by the time dinner came around and
Harry took great pleasure in seeing him flinch at everything louder than a whisper. And Harry
was pretty sure that this time it wasn’t even faked - though the professor was probably more
scared of his Master’s disappointment than what the aurors could do to him.

Of course Madam Bones wouldn’t necessarily think to check for possession, probably
believing that Dumbledore would have noticed it already. But alone the possibility seemed to
send the stuttering professor into his worst nightmare scenario.

It also made him look really really guilty, especially when he rushed out of the Great Hall
barely fifteen minutes after he had arrived.

If Madam Bones didn’t do a follow-up with him, Harry would eat a broom.

Susan and Hannah got to him right after dinner, Susan grinning brightly. They were followed
by Neville, and although they didn’t come much closer, Ron and Hermione were waiting for
their friend close by as well.

“My aunt says she has a lead. Or a suspicion, rather. She even asked Dumbledore to
accompany her to the ministry to sort some things out.”

“That’s great news!”, Harry said - not least because it would probably annoy the headmaster,
which he’d kind of made his life’s mission. “Maybe we’ll at least get this over with before
exams.”

“That would be fantastic”, Blaise sighed. “Not that I don’t like following you around, but you
have very weird ideas of what fun is.”

“Haha.”

His friends just looked at him with deadpan stares and Harry, wisely, decided to let sleeping
three-headed dogs lie.
“Let’s just hope nothing else goes wrong. Or that whoever it is doesn't feel cornered and does
something stupid”, Hannah said.

“Or that Harry doesn't do something stupid”, interjected Neville, giving his friend a once-
over. “Like trying to take them on alone.”

“I’ve been better, right? Nobody tried to kill me since February.”

“As far as we know.” Susan stared at him.

Fair point, actually. There had been that thing with Fred, George and the Forbidden Forest…

“And need I remind you of the Norbert Heist? You don’t get to play innocent here.”

“…alright, that’s fair. But it’s not like I want to get into those situations. It’s not like I decide
hey, tonight I’m going to go after my would-be-murderer, would you like to come?”

That calmed his friends down a bit and they were soon back to talking about the oncoming
exams and what they still needed to practice. While leaving the hall, Harry caught the eyes of
the Weasley twins, who nodded towards the staff table and the door Quirrell had disappeared
through and then grinned when Harry gave them a thumbs up.

He should have known it would all go downhill from here.

It started, as it had before, with the map.

Harry knew it should all be over by tomorrow, but he had a feeling the possessed professor
wouldn’t stick around to find out whether the rumours about Madam Bones and her lead were
bogus. Which meant the last chance of getting the stone was tonight.

And so Harry watched the little dot labelled Quirrell walk up and down his office until he
deemed the castle quiet enough and made his way to the third floor. He soon entered Fluffy’s
room, then disappeared from the map.

:Well. At least I don’t have to go through that bullshit again:, Harry told Mehen, stroking his
scales. :He’s not getting past the mirror anyway.:

:He’s going to be furious.: The snake seemed worried at that thought.

:Yes, which means I’ll be careful tomorrow, in case he wants to get some revenge before he
runs, but I should be able to stay away from him for half a day until Madam Bones gets back.
It’s Saturday, so we don’t have any classes and I can just hide out in the dorm room. Or sneak
to the vanishing cabinet and leave Hogwarts altogether. No problem.:

:If you say so.:

Mehen still sounded unsure, so Harry pet his scales a bit more and scratched his familiar’s
chin until only satisfied hissing remained.
:Good night, Mehen. Tomorrow it will all be over and done with.:

:For this year:, the snake said.

:For this year.:

But the year wasn’t over. Barely half an hour after Harry had fallen asleep, he was woken by
Mehen slithering over his face, hissing menacingly.

:Wha…:

:Silex says someone is trying to break into the common room. Snape doesn’t seem to notice.:

Probably because nobody would get into the common room if they weren’t a teacher and the
alarm only secured the dorm rooms - a security flaw if he’d ever seen one. But that also
meant the would-be intruder wasn’t Quirrell.

When Harry got out the map, he found a tiny dot labelled Neville Franklin Longbottom
pacing outside of the Slytherin wall.

Well that couldn’t be good.

Harry left the dorm room to see what the midnight guest wanted. The stone snakes were
tittering amongst themselves, but fell silent when Silex gave a particularly loud hiss and then
turned towards Harry.

:He’s been trying to get in for over five minutes, screaming your name. We figured you might
want to know.:

Harry had a feeling he really didn’t want to know, but he thanked the carvings anyway and
then opened the wall - only to be almost hit by a fist that Neville had been pounding on the
door with.

“Woah! Careful there!”

“Harry! Thank god! I t-tried to stop him, I really d-did, but he p-petrified me and w-when I
woke up, I-I followed him out of the p-portrait, but c-couldn’t remember the p-p-password to
get back in and wake up a p-prefect and I couldn’t find any teachers p-patrolling the corridors
and I d-don’t know where McGonagall’s quarters are and s-so you were my only hope
and…”

“Neville!”

When the boy continued to ramble on, Harry grabbed both of his shoulders and squeezed a
bit of calming magic into his friend. It seemed to work because Neville blinked and shut his
mouth.

“Who did you try to stop from doing what?”

“Ron! I caught him t-trying to sneak out and wanted to… I don’t know, stop him or at least g-
go with him, I guess. But he was babbling about a stone and You-Know-Who and how he has
to protect you and when I tried to ask him what the hell, he locked up my arms and legs and
ran off!”

Harry stared at Neville for a second.

And another.

And another.

Then he cursed loudly and thoroughly while Neville’s eyes grew wider and more panicked.

“Harry, what is going on?”

“Stay right here. I’m getting reinforcements.”

“Wha-“

Harry left a stuttering Neville behind to dash through the common room and climb up the
stairs to their dorm. He didn’t even bother being quiet. The more people woke up, the better,
actually. Which is why he threw the door to their dorm open with a bang that had Malfoy
shooting up in bed, shouting something about swans and Blaise and Theo poking their heads
through their curtains with sleepy eyes.

“Cazzo di merda, what’s the ruckus?”

“…Harry?”, asked Theo.

Harry was busy throwing on some clothes that weren’t pyjamas as fast as possible. He’d be
damned if he went on a midnight adventure in sleeping clothes yet again.

Then he grabbed the map.

The marauder personalities in the map had looked in on him every once in a while, taunting
him with extra knowledge that could be unlocked - but only by someone worthy. At first,
Harry hadn't felt like pulling an unnecessary prank just for that.

And then he had realised that sneaking a baby dragon out of Hogwarts was probably exactly
the kind of shenanigans the marauders would get a kick out of.

He had been right. While Pettigrew's messages had a slightly panicky undertone - Mr
Wormtail wonders how a dragon got into Hogwarts. - and Lupin was mostly obsessed with
them getting it away from other children, his dad and Sirius had been delighted. They had
seen it as a grand adventure and given some suggestions for the distractions.

After Harry recounted the night's events - McGonagall in a nightgown had gotten some
snickers and setting Filch's office on fire and stealing the files roaring laughter - they dubbed
him a true marauder and finally gave him some extra commands for the map.
He whispered “Harry Evans-Potter, emergency”, wandlessly cut his index finger the tiniest
bit and smeared a drop blood on one specific corner.

The map lit up immediately, lines spiralling out from the corner even faster than usual with
one space in the middle remaining blank, where Harry soon put his wand.

“Point me, Ron Weasley.”

Blaise sat up for real, rubbing his eyes some more. “It’s Merlin-knows how late. What…?”

Harry ignored him for now, instead watching the map swivel around the tip of his wand,
rearranging rooms and stairs and secret passages. But the space remained blank.

“Point me, Quirinius Quirrell.”

The same happened again while Harry grew cold.

“Ron Weasley, last position.”

The markings swirled again, rearranging themselves so that one room appeared right where
there had once been a blank space. There were no other dots moving on the map but Ron’s,
just before he must have gone down the trapdoor. Which meant he must still be down there.

“Quirinius Quirrell, last position.”

This time the map stayed exactly as it was, only exchanging Ron’s name with Quirrell’s.
Harry cursed again.

Blaise was still staring at him when Harry finally looked up. There was no grin to be seen
this time. No excitement. The look in his eyes reminded him more of that Halloween night
when he had left his newest friend in the kitchen to go face a troll.

“Get out of bed. Wake up Snape and tell him Quirrell is going after the Philosopher’s Stone
and Ron Weasley is about to run into him. If he tries to ignore you, insist.”

“Weasley? Quirrell? The Philosopher’s… are you mad? Harry - what the-”

“Someone else take Neville with you - he’s waiting by the entrance - and get McGonagall up
and running. And then go for Flitwick and Sprout. Hell, wake the whole castle if you have to.
And someone send an owl to Dumbledore and Madam Bones to get them here.”

Harry threw his robe over himself, then paused in the doorway for a short moment.

“I’m going after him in the hopes I’ll be able to catch him before it’s too late. Get the
teachers to the third floor, preferably yesterday. And if you have any time at all, prepare
Madam Pomfrey for incoming patients.”

He was slightly calmed by watching Theo’s face become a determined mask while Blaise
was hopping around the room on one foot trying to squeeze his other one into a sock. Malfoy
was staring at the chaos kind of dumbfounded.
“Incoming patients?!” The shout was interrupted by Blaise stubbing his toe on a bed frame.
“Ouch - don’t tell me you mean yourself. Please don’t tell me you mean yourself. Please tell
me you’re going to set another troll on someone instead.”

Thinking about the troll in the fourth chamber, Harry swallowed. “I can’t exactly say I
won’t.”

And then Harry left through the door and let it fall shut.

“Harry! Don’t you dare go alone!” was the last thing he heard before the door closed behind
him and he was hurrying out of the common room, just to run into Neville once again.

“Harry-“

“Blaise and Theo are on their way. They know where most of the professors are and will take
you. I’ll try and get Ron.”

“Harry, wait just-“

“Stay here and then get the professors!”, he shouted over his shoulder while hurrying on.
“They’ll believe you more than me!”

For a while there were two pairs of footsteps echoing in the empty corridors, but Harry lost
Neville when he slipped behind a hidden door that led to the ground floor.

There should be a teacher. Filch should be doing rounds. There should be ghosts. Someone.
Just… anyone!

:You should take one of them, at least.:

Mehen had wound himself around his arm in a death grip as soon as Harry had left the bed,
apparently determined not to be left behind this time. And Harry didn’t have time to argue
with the snake. He didn’t have time to argue with anyone.

:It’s more important to get the teachers down there.:

:Then why don’t you-:

:Because I’m not going to let him die!:

His familiar gave a start at the outburst.

:I… I can’t take the risk of trying to convince Snape. Or McGonagall. Or… They wouldn’t
listen, not fast enough. And whatever people say about Ron; he isn’t dumb. He might get
through the traps and then he’d be facing Voldemort and I’m… I’m not losing him.

:I can live with him hating me. I can live with him not being my friend. But if he dies now,
what the hell was I even sent back for?:

Mehen still hissed in displeasure.

:And if Quirrell finds him, he'd make Ron face the mirror and might get the stone and I also
can't let that happen.:

Harry was running even while he was speaking. He hadn’t bothered to wear his invisibility
cloak. Hadn’t bothered to put his hair into more than a messy ponytail. There was a secret
passage leading up to the second floor from the dungeons and after that it wasn’t far.

And then he ran straight through the Bloody Baron.

Harry shuddered after what felt like wet cobwebs passing through him, leaving a cold layer
of sweat on his skin.

:Mr Slytherin!:

The Baron lifted an eyebrow and bared his teeth in what Harry supposed should be a grin.
:Ah. You figured it out then.:

:It wasn’t that difficult once I realised we’d been speaking Parseltongue the whole time. But
we’ll have to discuss that later. Right now, Ron Weasley is unknowingly going after the Dark
Lord. Will you help?:

:You do remember that I’m a ghost…?:

:Just make a ruckus. Wake up every ghost and person you can and get the professors to the
third floor. The faster the better. Blaise and Theo are going for Snape and McGonagall
because it’s Slytherins and Gryffindors involved, so maybe get Flitwick and Sprout. And if
you can keep the rest of the Slytherins in the common room so they don’t actually run into
Voldemort and tell the other house ghosts to do the same…:

The ghost bowed from the waist, a serious expression on his face. :I will do my very best, Mr
Evans-Potter.:

Then he drifted through the nearest wall and Harry was alone again. Maybe he should have
asked the Baron to accompany him. But he was still a ghost and wouldn’t be able to do much.
No, this was a situation that required manpower.

Speaking of.

“Kreacher!”

There was a short pause that indicated the elf had been asleep. Then came a pop and the elf
was standing in front of Harry, eyes wide, long ears perking up.

“I have to go save Ron Weasley from the Dark Lord. Go get all the stuff I told you to in this
situation.”

Harry just saw the fear being etched into Kreacher’s face before the elf disappeared with a
much louder pop than usual.

:…why is it always you who’s saving people?:, Mehen hissed. :It shouldn’t be you.:
:But it is.:

And with that, Harry entered the room.

Fluffy wasn’t asleep anymore, but that turned out to be no issue whatsoever. As soon as the
dog saw him, it started wagging its tail and two of the heads started fighting over who got to
cover Harry in slobber first.

“Fluffy, I… Down, boy! Down!”

Some of the heads wined and all of them were put on the paws. The dog’s tail was still
wagging incessantly and all three sets of eyes stared at him hopefully.

“I don’t have food for you today, boy. Sorry. But I promise you the biggest steak - steaks - if
you let me past. A friend of mine is down there.”

The dog tilted its heads, ears flopping to the side.

“Alright, double the steaks for everybody.”

He’d never been entirely sure whether Fluffy understood him, but the dog moved its paws
and that was all that mattered.

Harry took the time to scratch all three heads before jumping down the trapdoor. He could
have calmed the dog down with music, but overall, this had been faster. Besides, what else
had he come here for all year if not to get on the guardians’ good side(s)?

The devil’s snare was starting to wrap its tentacles around him, but a quick lumos spell,
brighter and with more heat in it than usual, had the plant shrinking back and Harry moving
on. He was more than glad he’d started experimenting with that spell so early; he really
didn’t want to face a furious Professor Sprout after having burned her plant. Her annoyance
with Travers and friends after them taking an offshoot was already going down in school
history.

The following passage sloped down further, damp stone walls pressing in on him, and Harry
wondered whether he was under the lake now. Or maybe close to the Chamber of Secrets?
Someone should probably chart Hogwarts’ underbelly at some point, as even the Marauders
hadn’t added it to their map.

:I don’t like it down here.: Mehen poked out from his sleeve, flicking his tongue. :It’s so dark
and cold and wet.:

:Well, you didn’t have to come, did you?:

:Of course I did. I’ll be with you for as long as you let me.:

Soon enough, he could hear the rustling and clicking of the key-birds, and then he was
stepping into the room with the high arching ceilings and the brooms, just waiting to be used.
:You might want to stay here. You always said snakes are not meant to fly. Besides, I need
both hands.:

When Mehen only switched from his arms to his neck, Harry sighed and got on a broom. He
didn’t have time to argue with a stubborn familiar. Soon, they were soaring through the air.

It should have been harder to catch the key without the help of his friends, but Harry had
underestimated just how bad his eyesight had been with the faulty glasses. He’d spotted the
old-fashioned silver key immediately, this time with two broken wings. That also made it
easier to catch and soon the heavy wooden door to the next room was open.

Harry was faced with a chess game in progress.

Multiple black players were slumped along the wall, lying limp and in unnatural positions. A
knight seemed to have been hit particularly hard and was missing part of its lower legs. On
the other side, about twice the amount of white players was lying, unmoving.

“Rook to B4!”, rang out Ron’s voice.

It had a harsh undertone Harry hadn’t heard in a while. Nowhere other than his memories, in
fact. The boy in question was standing on this end of the board and when Harry let his eyes
sweep over the chess board, he realised he must have taken the place of the king.

The remaining black rook started to move, scraping along the floor with a sound that made
all the hairs on Harry’s arms stand up.

“Check!”

It was still horrifying to watch as the white queen glided across the board and then struck the
rook across the top. Before his eyes, Harry saw a similar scene play out, this time with Ron.
He could still hear the fleshy thunk, remembered the fear that had cursed through his whole
body at watching his best friend fold up like a marionette with cut strings…

The rook collapsed where it was standing and was soon dragged off the board to join its
wounded siblings while the queen retook her place.

Harry moved closer, not wanting to disturb Ron’s concentration. He was still a part of the
game. And if he lost… he’d rather not think about it.

“Queen to F5!”

The black queen moved. Harry waited for her to slay someone or be slain, but instead Ron’s
posture relaxed.

“Checkmate!”

The white king took off his crown and threw it at the queen’s feet while Ron let out a
breathless cheer. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving a clear path to the door on the
other side. Ron prepared to move forward and Harry pounced.
Ron flinched and tried to escape from his grip as soon as Harry caught a sleeve of his robe.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He had to keep himself from shaking the other boy, but
he looked shaken enough as it was, eyes wide and mouth moving as if he wasn’t quite sure
what to say. “You could have been fucking killed!”

“You… you were… I thought you were in there!” Ron motioned towards the flame room. “I
heard you talking with the others and I thought…”

Harry tugged the redhead towards the exit. There was just the key room to get through. And
the devil’s snare. And Fluffy. Goddammit.

“I heard you talking about how you would go after Quirrell!”

“I was being sarcastic! Nobody would be dumb enough to go after whoever wants to kill
them! My friends were laughing about it, if you couldn’t tell, because it was a joke.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Why is it my fate to save bloody Weasleys? What did I ever do to offend the
universe!”

Harry kicked the leg of one of the knights halfway through the room. There may or may not
have been a push of magic involved, but it made him feel a little better.

“Save… wait. Which Weasleys did you save?”

“Fred and George. They ran right into Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Volde… you knew he was here?”

“Of course I knew! Apparently, everyone in this castle is out to get me; it’s my job to know
who wants to kill me next!”

Ron had stopped walking, so Harry dragged him on, ignoring the pained grimace.

“Why do you think I was trying to get Madam Bones to interview Quirrell? Get anyone to
notice him, really? I’m eleven. I never stood a chance. So someone else had to do it, but
every single adult in this castle is so bloody oblivious! The wouldn’t notice a sixty foot
basilisk if it was roaming around the corridors!”

His former best friend still looked liked someone had hit him over the head with a bludger
and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At least he’d had some sort of heroic urge to go
save Harry instead of charging in for the glory of it all. That meant he wasn’t a completely
lost cause. Just a semi-lost one.

“I sent my friends and the ghosts out to wake up everyone.”

“Everyone?” That was a squeak and turned Harry’s mouth into a grim line.
“Oh yes. Everyone. We are going to get detention until the end of our days.”

Ron paled. “You… you don’t think we’ll get points instead? You know, for trying to stop…”

“If I was a teacher, I wouldn’t reward recklessness like this. We could have been killed!
Granted, all the traps set up by the teachers are so easy a bunch of first-years could get
through them, but still.”

And if that wasn’t proof that Dumbledore had set it up for them... Without befriending
Hagrid, they never would have gotten past Fluffy. He’d probably hoped Neville would come
with them, seeing as the devil’s snare had been the first test. The keys were for Harry. The
chess game for Ron. The troll as a reminder of their friendship. The potion riddle for
Hermione.

Harry had to wonder how much input the teachers had really had for their own protections, or
if Dumbledore had given them specific tasks. He’d bet it was the latter. But this time around
it was still the same, although his friend group had radically changed, so maybe it was all
speculation after all.

They had reached the key room where Harry found Kreacher, face contorted in rage and
shooting bursts of magic at the keys.

He lit up when he saw Harry dragging Ron behind him.

“Ma…”

Harry shook his head and the elf immediately stopped himself.

“Mr Evans-Potter, Sir! There was no way to pop down here. Only pop out, not in. Everybody
has to be going through trap thingies. Nasty, nasty trap thingies.” He gave the keys another
glare.

“Is that… a house elf?”

“When I said I notified everyone, I really wasn’t kidding”, Harry said - if he was lucky, Ron
would think Kreacher was a Hogwarts elf.

Kreacher looked more than relieved. The first thing he did was throw Harry the bag with the
requested items, then motioned towards the exit.

“Professors be making ruckus upstairs. They be on their way.”

He took a step - and then threw Ron at a startled house elf. Harry wasn't sure what his brain
had even registered, what had set him off.

But he could feel the looming presence behind him and knew instinctively that even Kreacher
was out of his depth here.

“Take Ron out, now!”

“But…”

“Now!”

The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Ron’s freckles standing out in stark
contrast to his white face and Kreacher’s enormous eyes filled with fear. They both
disappeared while Harry heard a familiar voice cursing behind him.

Then everything went black.

Harry woke up with his face mushed against the stone floor, arms and legs hurting because of
the weird position he had been in. He tried to keep his breathing deep and even and although
his muscles were screaming at him, he did his best have his limbs remaining still and relaxed.

“I know you’re awake.”

And there went that plan to stall for time.

Harry pushed himself up from the floor just to end up in a nightmare. Because there he was,
just like in his memories, but at the same time so, so much worse.

(Don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’t…)

Push it down, push it down.

“You”, Harry said.

“Yes, me. Not that you appear surprised.” Quirrell’s voice was clear and sharp, his eyes
focused, the stutter completely absent.

“You let the stutter slip a few times. On Halloween, for example. I did try to get you for that
one, but everybody here is soooo dim-witted.”

Harry leaned against one of the columns and put his hands into his pockets to hide the
shaking and covertly get his wand out of the holster at the same time. He also reached into
the bag that Kreacher had gotten him and put the gem stone and freeze potion vial into his
pocket.

“And the bludger? Really now? That was sloppy. At least I aimed it properly when I got to
the teacher’s stand.”

He allowed himself a smirk - and started inching towards the flaming doorway.

(Push it down.) All the fear, all his emotion. He needed every bit of his cunning here.
Because only one snake could triumph.

Harry shuffled a few feet closer to the exit.

“You did that on purpose! I liked that robe…”

“Of course I did. I don’t do things without purpose. Though the run-in in the forest was an
accident. Mostly. I couldn’t let you get the Weasley twins; I needed them for a prank
afterwards.”

“So that was you. I was wondering who I felt sneaking around after me.”

Harry had expected it, but at the same time, he hadn’t expected it quite at this moment. The
ropes bound him before he could even utter a counter spell or use a shield to protect himself.

“Scared of an eleven-year-old? How droll”, he taunted.

(Don’t taunt him.)

“One who seems to have a habit of sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong? Let’s say better
safe than sorry. Now. What is it with this mirror…? I figured it might need two people to
operate and I have to get it to work before your little friend notifies Dumbledore.”

Quirrell continued to examine it, walking around it, tapping the frame and even the glass. He
cast a few spells at it too, but his frown only got more pronounced. Harry almost found
himself liking Dumbledore.

Harry used the distraction to focus on the ropes again. Because while Quirrell seemed to
think him dangerous enough to incapacitate, he didn’t seem to think he needed to disarm him.
After all, what could a child, even one with a wand, do to him?

Not much, Harry had to admit. But he didn’t want to fight Voldemort. He just needed to get
away and run, last long enough until the professors arrived. Or until Dumbledore returned
from the ministry, as Quirrell didn’t seem particularly scared of his colleagues and Harry
didn’t want to think too long about why that was.

So he kept asking Quirrell questions, getting him to monologue about how he had met the
Dark Lord in an Albanian forest and been tempted by power while Harry let the magic build
up in his core, then directed it towards the hand that was still holding his wand. It should
work. He had used wordless and even wandless magic before.

Relashio.

Nothing happened.

Emancipare. Liberare, he thought at the ropes.

He could feel Mehen slither along his sleeve and try to loosen the ropes, but this was one
occasion where having no limbs was a real disadvantage.

Harry's heart was hammering in his throat and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.
(Push it down). He put up more barriers, burying his emotions deeper and deeper and
strengthening his walls and defences. There was no time for fear.
Quirrell came back from behind the mirror. “I see the Stone. I’m presenting it to my master…
but where is it?”

Maybe it was time for fear. Because Harry knew where this would lead. He couldn’t
concentrate on spells anymore, but reinforced his mind shields more and more.

Quirrell was maybe even more dangerous than last time because right now, he had even more
to lose. This was his last chance before he had to go on the run from Madam Bones with
Voldemort attached to his head - which sounded about as horrifying as it probably was.

And there was the rasping voice echoing through the chamber. “Use the boy…”

“Yes… When I saw you on my way back, I figured one more try with another person in the
room wouldn’t hurt. Maybe…”

The ropes fell away and Harry found a force pushing him forward. But he knew how the
mirror worked. He just had to sell it. He was better than last time. He could do it. He had to.

“Potter - come here.”

“It’s Evans-Potter”, he hissed. “I hate it when people get my name wrong.”

Quirrell clacked his tongue in annoyance and positioned Harry in front of the mirror. He saw
his reflection. Taller and seemingly more mature than he had thought, somehow (push it
down), but still tired-looking.

What did Harry want? Not the stone. Not even to protect it from Quirrell.

What I want most, he thought, is for the stone to stay exactly where it is.

His reflection smiled at him. It put a hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red, familiar-
looking stone. Then the grin turned downright mischievous when it looked at the stone for a
second and chucked it behind itself as far as it would go.

Harry had to suppress the urge to giggle and down it went along with the rest of his emotions.

“Well? What do you see?”, Quirrell asked.

Harry swallowed and though back to what he had seen the last time. Focused on the image of
himself surrounded by his friends, growing old… It was easiest to lie with the truth.

“I see myself. In the future. I’m happy.”

Quirrell cursed. “Useless boy! Move aside.”

Aaand there were the ropes again. Harry could have cried. (Push it down.)

“Let me speak to him. Face-to-face…”, came the raspy voice again that made Harry shudder
even in the ropes.
Against Quirrell’s complaints, Harry soon found himself, again, where he absolutely didn’t
want to be. He couldn’t even focus on the spell to unbind his ropes when he watched Quirrell
unwrap the turban. His limbs and mind were frozen as the dusty, mouldy smell became
stronger with every layer that fell. And soon, Harry was staring at Voldemort’s face again.

It was just as terrifying as he remembered, with skin as white as chalk, red eyes, slits for a
nose… less than even a ghost. A wraith. A parasite, attached to someone else’s body.

“Harry Potter…” it whispered.

“Evans-Potter. For fucks sake.”

A wordless diffindo was thrown his way by Quirrell, who seemed to have turned around just
for that. He could feel his cheek opening up, liquid dripping down and when it ran along the
corner of his mouth, he recognised the coppery taste of blood.

“Show some respect! You are talking to the most powerful wizard in the world!”

“Let me…”

Quirrell winced, bowed his head - which looked really weird, considering who was attached
to it - and turned back around. Voldemort looked displeased, much to Harry’s amusement,
somewhere deep under the layers of terror his mind was wrapped in.

“You may not think my loyal servant correct, but have I not survived death? Have I not lived,
despite those seeking to destroy me? I am but a shade… but once I have the Elixir of Life, I
will be able to create a body of my own and continue to rule…”

Had Voldemort always been that dramatic?

“You could rule with me…”

Harry froze. That was not a direction he’d thought this conversation could go in. Even
Quirrell sucked in a surprised breath.

“I have watched you the last few months. A boy, sorted into Slytherin. A lonely boy, who
they thought didn’t belong only for him to prove them wrong. Yes, I have watched you. You
are so much like me…”

A shudder worked its way through him. “I’m not like you”, he whispered, although his own
mind whispered liar.

Voldemort laughed once, loud and sharp, and cutting right through him. “Oh, but you are”, he
cooed. “Unloved by the people who were supposed to provide got you. Hurt by those inferior
to himself. Ambitious. Heir to a powerful house. And powerful…

“You are powerful. You try to hide it, but it shines through. And you are cunning. I don’t do
things without purpose, you say - and you didn’t. You used the troll to improve your standing
in Slytherin, not caring who might get caught in the crossfire. And you say you are not like
me? Oh you are… You are.”
He was, in a way. Now more so than ever. He’d even thought about letting Travers die, and if
he hadn’t had plans that involved keeping his image clean, he might have.

(You wouldn’t have).

He might have.

And he suddenly understood what Theo meant when he called him terrifying.

Mehen was tightening on his arm, even when Harry could feel him trembling in fear, as if to
assure him that his familiar didn't believe a word of it. Harry wanted to believe him. But
somewhere in his mind was a small voice, wondering...

“Join me! Imagine what we could do together! The boy who was thought to have defeated
me… I could teach you so, so many things. I can show you power that none have dared to
grasp! Even Dumbledore is too weak… you don’t like Dumbledore, do you…?”

How did he… Shit.

Harry finally noticed the black thought tendril which had made its way through his outer
shields. It was as quiet and relentless as… He batted it away and closed the hole in his
shields. Then put up more. And more.

“Impressive…”, Voldemort murmured. “Occlumency shields. I didn’t think they were this
strong. No wonder Snape and Dumbledore believe you more than they should. You’ve shown
them things, have you not? And maybe influenced minds as well…”

Harry winced, then cursed himself for it and shoved those emotions down as well. Too late.

“Yes, you have!” There was a truly disturbing grin on Voldemort’s face, showing too many
teeth, the skin stretched in ways skin shouldn’t be stretched, a dangerous, gleeful flash in his
eyes... “You are like me.”

And maybe he was. Partly, anyway. He was cunning and he schemed and he used methods
that were morally dubious sometimes to reach his goals. But his goals…

“Show me how to get the stone. I know you know how… I saw it in your mind… Show it to
me, give me the stone, and you will live… Live and thrive and be powerful! I’ve seen what
you saw… you want to live, more than anything else. You want to grow up and grow old.”

He did. But.

“I don’t want just that”, he whispered. “And you can’t give me what I want.”

Harry called up the memory of the Mirror of Erised again. Yes, he wanted to live. Grow up.
Grow old. With his friends and family. And he knew that, if he went down this path, he would
lose most of them just as surely as he would lose himself. No matter which methods he might
use to get where he wanted to go, the goal was entirely different than Voldemort’s.
Irreconcilable, in fact.
 Voldemort’s face had turned into a grimace of rage now, no less fear-inducing than the gleeful
grin.

“And even if you could, you wouldn’t. You want to rule and there will never be anyone ruling
beside you.”

Harry was whispering again, but it was so quiet in the room, he might as well have shouted.

“You tell me I can rule with you? You do not have equals. You only have followers. And I
have decided long ago that I will never follow anyone else, never let anyone choose for me.”

Besides, Voldemort would have to make an example of him. The boy who was thought to
have defeated me... Even if the Dark Lord let him live, there would be pain before that. So
much pain. And he’d had quite enough of that. If he endured pain, it would be for something
he deemed worthwhile.

Even as Voldemort's face contorted in rage, Harry suddenly felt calm wash over him. The
wraith snarled.

“Then die.”

Chapter End Notes

Well then. You didn't think I'd be able to let Harry get through the year without facing
Voldemort, did you?

Update schedule: every Tuesday. For special occasions, like finishing a part (hint, hint)
there's an extra upload on Saturday.
 The smell of lilies
Chapter Summary

Final confrontation, here we go!

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Relashio!”

The ropes he was bound with vanished in milliseconds and Harry dove to the side just as a
spell whizzed over his head. He hadn’t heard which one over his own shouted curse, but it
wasn’t yet death-green.

“Seize him! Bind him!”, the voice shrieked, now sounding as insane as the wraith must be,
deep down. “I need his memories!”

There were more spells being shot in his direction. Harry dove behind one of the columns in
the room. He felt the vibration of exploding stone in his back and heard sharp rock particles
scattering on the floor.

“Harry Potter, the brave hero, defeater of trolls - hiding.”

He could hear the sneer, but ignored the bait.

“That’s Evans-Potter!”

Yet, despite the bravado, his heart was beating in his throat again and Harry pushed the
emotion down. His hands were shaking and he forced them to stop. His shirt was clinging to
his sweat-soaked skin, the blood was rushing in his ears so much he almost couldn’t hear.

Why had he still ended up here? And in a situation that seemed so much worse than last
time? He had done everything he could to keep this from happening.

He had tried to rally the teachers, and the aurors. He had tried to just stay away. He had made
sure his friends didn’t follow him into situations that would make them aware of the
Philosopher’s Stone. He had tried to weaken Voldemort by warning the centaurs about the
unicorns - and it had worked too, as Hagrid had only talked about one of them dying. A
single unicorn. Barely enough to sustain the man. Just enough to curse him.

Quirrell was supposed to be weaker this time and Harry was supposed to be just that little bit
stronger.
Another spell hit the column and the bombarda spread more rubble and blew a crater right
into the thick wall of the room. When the next spell shot out, Harry threw the red stone from
his pocket into the line of fire and watched it splinter into a hundred pieces and heard the cry
of rage from Voldemort.

At least one thing down. Whatever good it did him.

Now he just needed to get a stunner off. Hell, even a blinding spell might give him enough
time to down the potion, get through the flames and escape. Kreacher had said the teachers
were already notified and on their way. They should be here any moment.

Then again, they should have already arrived and Harry didn’t want to think about what it
meant that they hadn’t.

Another spell shot past, this time hitting the wall again. Harry just about managed a protego,
then rolled out of the way as jagged rocks shot in all directions, including at him. When they
started actually following him, only a flipendo kept them from riddling him (haha) - shut up -
with rubble.

And then he made a mistake.

While trying to gauge the distance and get a spell off, Harry met Voldemort’s eyes.

It was like someone had taken a wrecking ball to his mind. The first barrier he had built
shattered on impact. The second lasted barely two seconds longer.

Because he was still being bombarded by spells, albeit stunners, Harry couldn’t put all of his
energy into fixing his occlumency shields or strengthening the remaining ones. That meant
his last outer shield fell and there were black tendrils invading the front of his mind.

It felt like someone had put hundreds of tiny fish hooks into his brain and then pulled.

Harry could barely hear insane cackling as the tendrils fed on his fear and desperation - and
then started digging.

His panic came first because, right now, it was the primary emotion. After that, Voldemort
tried to get his hooks into the memories of the mirror and how to get the stone out.
Simultaneously, there were tendrils stretching out to discover his plans, what he had been up
to this year, what he hadn’t told Dumbledore.

The only time the pain was alleviated for even a second was when Harry felt Voldemort’s
glee at seeing the stone intact, then rage when he finally got the knowledge he had been
searching for - and realised that he would never get it out of the mirror. Not when Quirrell
wanted to use the stone himself, and Harry refused to get it out for him.

He should really have chosen a more selfless minion. And even though the Dark Lord tore
through his mind in anger, Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

You failed, he thought at the monster in his mind. You will never get the stone.
The furious hissing got louder and his head felt about to burst open with pain, but still Harry
laughed. If there was nothing left but defiance, he'd stand against his enemy unto his very last
breath.

“I will make you. I will force you.” Voldemort screamed.

The pain doubled, tripled, grew insurmountable.

Harry could hear himself screaming as if from far away, could hear Voldemort’s laughter,
could hear panicked hissing in his ear. It was like someone had put him under a cruciatus
curse, Harry remembering phantom pain from his fourth year (push it down). His scar was on
fire and he could feel the dark entity of Voldemort in his mind shield itself from the pain
while ripping through his thoughts one by one by one, deeper, deeper…

Until something broke.

Everything he had shoved down, all the fear and anger and desperate longing filled his mind,
racing through it like a flood, a storm, and taking with it any outer defences he had built up -
as well as Voldemort’s thought tendrils.

Harry barely had time to realise that it wasn’t anything Voldemort had done or left in his
mind. He’d done a great job himself of shoving everything down, filling a part of his mind to
the brim with things that should have been discarded, worked through, let go. There was still
fear from the troll incident. There was the complete loathing he felt towards Travers. The
loneliness of the first few months, the desperate longing for friends, the loss he felt when the
memories overwhelmed him with who he had been, what he might have had, had he chosen
Hufflepuff.

And somewhere in the depth of his mind, an ignored door sprang open.

The hat had been right. It really did come back to bite him.

In one thing, Voldemort had been right too. They were very alike. So much, in fact, that the
horcrux had no trouble whatsoever attaching itself to Harry’s emotions and feeding on them,
strengthening itself, grasping for more. And more. And more.

And it was a horcrux. One of the things even Aunt Walburga considered abominations of
magic. The one that had lived inside of him for ten years. The one he had been desperately
trying to ignore for months, since he had first started piecing together what it all meant.

Because he wanted to live.

But how could he, when he would either have to live with the equivalent of a demonic
parasite in his head, or when he would have to die?

He hadn’t wanted to know.

The memories came hard and fast and Harry was suddenly fighting a war on two fronts. He
had trouble keeping a barrier between them and Voldemort, still wreaking havoc in the outer
part of his mind, thinking it the hidden one. Because Voldemort could never know. Not about
the horcrux, not about the future memories now assaulting him from the inside.

Snape’s memories.

The Resurrection Stone.

The walk into the forest.

A green light.

King’s Cross.

(Am I dead?)

No.

Not yet.

Not now.

He would have to die.

And for one moment, Harry wondered whether it might be better to get it over with. If he
died here and now, Dumbledore could find the other horcruxes. Maybe he would ask Snape
for help. Or the Order. What good would all his suffering be if it ended the same?

But he wanted to live. And if he died now, there would be no miraculous escape.

Harry grasped for the seeds of hope and happiness that were buried under growing black
tendrils, shooing them away from the suicidal thoughts they had pushed at him. Because it
wasn’t all bad. For all the people who condemned him and wanted to hurt him, there were
those who cared. Those who tried. Those who would miss him.

His family. His friends. Some professors and Hagrid too. Even the castle ghosts.

Mehen. Merlin, the snake would be pissed beyond belief, more so if he actually let himself be
killed here. He could almost hear the hissing - no, that was Voldemort, who had switched to
Parseltongue, hissing in pain while being trapped in Harry’s emotions and screaming for
Quirrell to get him out, ordering Harry to release him from his mind. But he could feel the
snake clamped around his arm, muscles trembling and still staying with him through it all.

There was the shouting, the tendrils in his mind and the memories still playing out in his head
because now that the block had been removed, they seemed to want to flood him all at once.
It was all Harry could do to keep them away from the forefront of his mind, focusing instead
on the pain and the anger he felt right this moment… While Voldemort was trapped in his
outer mind in a maelstrom of feelings known and unknown to him, Harry was trapped inside,
unable to order his mind because there was too much of everything, too much, too much…
The battle of Hogwarts, the media frenzy afterwards, death eater trials flashing behind his
eyes, a nasty breakup with Ginny and then a slow repairing of their friendship. Depression,
trying to figure out what to do with his life now that he didn’t have to fight, didn’t have a
goal, didn’t have a future he could picture himself in because he had secretly always believed
he would never survive the war. Finding comfort, and then it being ripped away by...

You can do it. You can save them, all of them, all of us, I know you can. You're the strongest
person I've ever met.

No, I want to stay! I want to... I can't...

You can.

...please...

No.

He was here.

This was now.

And that was then and although it hadn’t happened yet, it was over and done with anyway. It
would never happen like that, couldn’t happen like that.

He knew what that power was that had aided him before. He had felt it back when the
horcrux had been strengthened by his fear of Vernon, even if he hadn’t had the memories to
understand it. On an emotional level, he had always known.

His mother’s protection.

And it all boiled down to one thing: choice.

Travers had chosen to go after Harry, even after many warnings. He had chosen to ask Harry
for help, and had thus sealed the life debt.

Quirrell had chosen to host what was left of Voldemort’s mind, had chosen to take on the
curse of killing a unicorn and drinking its blood to sustain the parasite and had thus sealed his
fate, one way or another.

Lily had chosen to die for him. She’d had the choice to step aside, probably one of the few
enemies Voldemort had ever given that option. That she had willingly gone to her death was
the only reason why Harry had his own geas to carry. It was the opposite of a life debt. A
protection in his very blood against the man who had forced his mother to barter her life for
his.

He was bleeding already and all the doors in his mind were unlocked.

She should be there.

Mum…?
He kept back more of the dark thoughts, glad he could see inside his own mind. Fighting
against something like this while not being able to see them would be so much harder. It was
what he had struggled with after Hogwarts. (Not now)

Mum!

Harry was still able to taste the blood that had dripped from the cut in his cheek, although
there had been more important things to keep his attention. Now the taste intensified, but at
the same time, there was the smell of flowers.

It was a very distant memory. Aunt Petunia had been fond of Stargazer lilies. She had
scoured all the shops, usually in the middle of October, to find someone who sold them out of
season. And Harry had to wonder just how long she had been mourning her sister silently.
Now the scent was ingrained in his brain, sweetened by the flower and made heavy by the
metallic scent of blood permeating everything.

What was left of Lily Potter was flowers and blood and sheer determination. She swept
through his mind like a hurricane, uprooting dark tendrils, ripping them apart, shoving the
horcrux back. When the path was clear, she turned her fury towards the upper part of his
mind where Voldemort was still trapped in Harry’s very own hurricane of emotions.

She ripped through that one as well, catapulting the wraith out of his head.

As much as she had been fury incarnate, she was soft when retreating to the back of his mind.
She left a warmth with everything she touched. It felt like hot chocolate on a cold winter
night. A fire to warm you in the cold. A soft blanket draped over a sleeping child. Harry
wondered whether that was what made him crave hot chocolate and pillowy marshmallows
after something upset him.

It had never felt like this the last time; he would have remembered this kind of love that
brought tears to his eyes. The only reason he could come up with was that, this time around,
his family bond with his blood relatives was strong because they were a family. Harry loved
them and he thought they might love him too.

Which meant Lily’s power was amplified tenfold.

The pain retreated and even though his brain was still in chaos, Harry knew what he had to
do.

He pushed himself up with arms still trembling from the pain and limped towards the form of
Quirrell who was lying slumped and groaning a few feet away. There was blood on his hand
where Harry had wiped it from his cheek. He touched it again to make sure it coated his
hand.

This would hurt.

But if he endured pain, it would be for something he deemed worthwhile.

“I am sorry”, he told he professor.

And he was. But the man had sealed his fate when he had allowed a wraith to possess him.
Even his ghost book was quite clear on the fact that a ghost who was feeding on your energy
would leave you dead when it departed from your body, ripping away what remained of your
life force to sustain itself. Quirrell had never stood a chance.

Before Voldemort could recover from his mother’s attack, Harry knelt down, touched
Quirrell’s arm - and the screaming began.

There was pain in his head, but it was dulled, as if felt from a distance. Harry wasn’t sure
whether it was because the horcrux was contained as much as it had ever been, whether
having his mind ripped apart had dulled his senses, or whether he was simply too exhausted
to care.

Quirrell kept on screaming and Voldemort had woken too, yelling “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

Harry didn’t know how long he clung to the man. Just that he kept a hold of him, and looked
into those eyes filled with both hatred and desperate fear until a spark inside of them dimmed
and, like a flickering candle, finally blew out.

He let go then. Quirrell’s eyes were still open wide, but there was nothing in them now.
Somehow, Harry felt as empty as if it was him that had been burned from the inside out and
not the professor.

But Quirrell’s face… it looked more peaceful than he had ever seen it. There was no more
fear etched into it. No more pain. Although there must have been because the burn marks
stretched from his arms to his neck, blistering red.

He had expected silence, but he noticed only now that someone was sobbing next to him and
clutching one of his arms.

Harry’s head dropped and he had to blink, fighting to keep his eyes open. At least to see who
was there. If there was a threat. If…

“Master Harry! Don’t fall asleep. Master can’t fall asleep!”

“Kreacher?”

The elf let out a shriek of happiness and clung even more tightly to him.

“Young Master is okay! Teacher-people be on their way; Master Harry just has to hold on.
Kreacher can pop him straight to Pompom-woman and…”

“Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

His voice sounded rough even to his own ears, but it wasn’t the worst he’d felt. He knew
Madam Pomfrey could fix this.

Later.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Anything, Master Harry.”

Before he fell unconscious, Harry managed to whisper one more command to Kreacher and,
out of the corner of his eyes, saw the elf bow.

Harry woke early. His body ached all over, which meant that even Madam Pomfrey had her
work cut out for her. He was also still deeply exhausted and thought if he had any drop of
magic left in his body, it was a miracle indeed.

He was alive, though, so that was a plus.

Harry could feel comfortable sheets under him, a blanket over him and his contact lenses
drying out his eyes. He really had to give Madam Pomfrey a hint about those. He was about
to brave the bathroom when he realised what had woken him up in the first place.

It was the two people standing just one bed over and talking - about him, nonetheless. How
careless of them.

It was arduous to concentrate enough on the voices to hear words, then connect them to
sentences, then understand what it all meant. His brain felt sluggish, but Harry made a little
bubble for his conscious mind and listened.

“…can’t make heads nor tails of him, Albus! The boy is a walking disaster, but nothing ever
sticks to him! I’m still sure he had something to do with that pranking spree in the Slytherin
dorms - he is a Potter after all, no matter that he changed his name. And that incident with
Filch’s office a couple of weeks ago… I looked into some of the other students’ minds and
they pretty much confirmed his involvement-”

“Why didn’t you give him detention then?”

That was Dumbledore and he sounded patronising in a way that made even Harry mad on
Snape’s behalf.

“I couldn’t prove a thing! And even when I looked into his mind”, he whispered that part “it’s
like he wasn’t even thinking about the incident!”

“He tried to lie about the troll. I could read the truth in his mind clear as day”, said
Dumbledore.

Snape snorted. “Of course he did. Travers would be the last person to check on him. I’m still
not sure what he got out of covering for him because the damn brat definitely wasn’t afraid of
him. Apart from the life debt, but I’m not sure what an eleven-year-old would want with
that…”

“He does have rudimentary occlumency shields…”, mused the headmaster, ignoring the
direction the conversation had taken completely.
“I noticed.” Harry could hear the sneer in his voice. “They go up sometimes when I look at
him. It seems instinctive.”

“Mmh, that’s what I thought too. It has potential…”

Snape snorted. “I doubt he could pull himself together enough to ever master occlumency.
He’s far too impulsive and would never manage to control his emotions. They’re all over the
place inside his mind - and outside. I had to ask Minerva to spare some of her scotch to deal
with the chaos in Slytherin that he instigated.”

Dumbledore “mmhed” again. Harry had to fight to keep his eyes shut because he desperately
wanted to see the man’s face. “What do you honestly think of the boy? And don’t say he is
like James Potter.”

“He…” Snape seemed to hesitate and Harry strained his ears. “I can’t say he is. The pig-
headedness is definitely the same-“

“-Lily had that in spades too.”

“Ha! Yes. She did. But... Fighting a troll? Publishing all those newspaper articles? Running
off after a dark lord? She’d have had way more sense than that.”

“Not if it were her friends in danger.”

That made the other man pause and something warm fill Harry’s chest. Maybe his mother
wouldn’t hate what he did, after all. Maybe she would understand. He wasn’t sure his father
would. And while he loved James, the only thing he had was a piece of his 17-year-old
conscience trapped in a piece of parchment, while his mother had left an imprint on his very
soul.

“He actually reminds me of another student who once roamed these halls..”

“Oh please, you’re not still on about that tosh from September with Tom Riddle…”

“Oh no. Not first and foremost, at least. I was talking about you, Severus.”

The potions master snorted but made no comment.

“The consensus among the staff is that he is quite brilliant for his age. And very independent.
Precocious, to a fault. He made friends across the houses and is determined to keep them. He
is inquisitive, sometimes too curious for his own good. And, for an eleven-year-old,
surprisingly jaded. Brave, too.”

“Bah. Spare me your sentimentalities.”

“He faced Voldemort.”

There was a growl in Snape’s voice when he answered. “And almost got himself killed!
Albus, I cannot count how many times this child almost died under our care this year. My
fifth year prefects were almost breaking my door down, they came that often to complain!”
Maybe he had been too hard on Gemma Farley and Roarke Donoghue. Maybe.

“This cannot continue”, Snape said.

“Do you care for him then?”

Another snort. “He is still a Slytherin, no matter how many people don’t want to hear it, and I
am his head of house. No student is going to die under my care, not even Harry Potter.
Especially not Harry Potter. The public would have my hide.”

Now Harry was fighting hard to contain a snort. That was a massive understatement.

And also not a no. How fascinating.

He was still fighting the tiredness that was starting to creep up on him, the bone-deep
exhaustion trying to take over his mind and body to draw him under again. He tried to
contain it in his mind and keep parts of his thoughts sharp, but it was such a mess up there
that he wouldn’t know where to start to repair the damage. His mind was also wide open, so
much so that Harry feared you wouldn’t even need eye contact to get in. Or was that his
exhaustion creating fear? He couldn’t think clearly and he had to, he had to…

“... can't say with certainty. My old… friends… would have my hide if I favoured the boy or
protect him too much. There is no worse house he could have been sorted into.”

“I offered to have him re-sorted.”

“I know; you told me that was your plan when they all turned on him. And I told you he’d
never go for it. His pride is as big as his superiority-complex.”

Harry couldn’t even refute that, as much as he wanted to just to spite Snape.

“How long until he wakes?”

Harry forced himself to lie still when he heard the curtain shielding his bed from view move.
Then he forced himself to relax instead, letting the drowsiness that he had kept at bay enter
his conscious thoughts once more. His limbs grew heavy, as did his eyelids, and flashes of
what had happened down in the mirror room played out in his mind.

“Madam Pomfrey says it’ll be another day at least, maybe two.”

“I better go get some more scotch then. Or gin. I’m more partial to gin.”

Harry could almost see Dumbledore’s raised eyebrow in the following silence.

“You don’t believe for a second that he won’t turn this into some other chaotic and public
disaster, do you? And I refuse to borrow from Minerva again. If I hear her lament one more
time about how she didn’t get Potter in her house…”

“…I’ll order another package of lemon drops”, sighed Dumbledore. There was a rustling as
the curtain fell back. “And I’ll have to contact Nicolas, of course.”
Harry’s plan to pretend to sleep may have worked, but now sleep had its claws deep in his
mind. He could feel his thoughts grow more and more sluggish, missing more of the
conversation.

“…not take it too hard, I hope. After all…”

Why was he listening to them again? They were mumbling so quietly he couldn’t even hear
them. Why was he fighting? He should sleep. Definitely sleep.

“Can’t believe…”

“…the protections, but…”

Why was he awake? He thought he could feel someone next to his bed, a leathery little hand
reaching for his own. And his eyes were so dry…

“Kreacher?”, he whispered, but felt no air passing his lips.

His hand was squeezed just the same.

“Contacts… please…”

There was another squeeze. And more voices.

“…can’t know…”

“…lie to him? When he wakes…”

Harry sank back into unconsciousness, filled with cackling Dark Lords and flying keys and
devil’s snare that tried to wrap itself around him, a smirking Travers standing right next to it.

And then he was running after Ron Weasley, only to realise it was Fred… or was it George?
And Ron being crushed by chess pieces, Blaise and Susan and Hannah, Kreacher and Mehen
and Theo and Neville staring at him accusingly because he had gone alone…

And still, his last thought before sleep claimed him again was that he was nothing but glad
his friends hadn’t been anywhere near that mess.

He hurt a lot less by the time he woke up next. His mind, however, was still in chaos.

No wonder he’d been so out of it when… was that last night? And had he really heard that
conversation? Harry wasn’t quite sure anymore. He also wasn’t sure he wasn’t hallucinating
the truly ginormous amount of sweets that was piled onto a table next to his bed.

The legilimency attack had thrown his brain into disorder. All his memories, stacked into neat
little boxes, had been toppled over and corrupted. It reminded him of the Christmas incident,
but this time it was even harder to pry off the whisps of darkness hiding in the corners. They
tried to cling on, burrowing their way into his mind like tiny parasites. The more important
the thoughts were to him, the more difficult it was to get them off. The more personal, the
more integral to his personality, the tighter they clung.

It was good news, then, that Voldemort had only managed to shatter his outer shields and
hadn’t realised there were inner ones as well. Although the horcrux had done a great job of
throwing a tantrum in there.

Harry knew he needed more practice, but had still hoped it was better than lasting three
seconds against the Dark Lord. He had taken precautions either way.

He always imagined his mind like a castle. Maybe it was because he’d spent so much time
obsessing over memories of Hogwarts. The Tower of London, which they had visited once
during a trip to the city, could have also played a role.

A legilimens would have to break through the first wall, so to speak, to reach what Harry
called the courtyard. It’s what everyone expected to see. It was what he had continued to
show Snape and Dumbledore whenever they’d looked.

If you moved further down and broke through the next one, there lay the second layer. He had
shown that one to Dumbledore when he had lied to his face about the troll incident, shown
him a truer version of events in his mind.

Layer three lay behind further mental walls and contained the actual events, with things like
summoning Neville wandlessly and his struggle to let Travers live. It was the layer Harry
didn’t necessarily want people to see. It was the layer that Voldemort had managed to break
into during his search, seeing him lure Travers to the bathroom, the fight, his ability to fool
Dumbledore and Snape, his reveal as Heir Black… It wasn’t exactly something Harry wanted
his enemies to know.

It hurt to know he hadn’t managed to protect those memories. They showed how calculating
he was. Some of his weak points. But it also meant Voldemort had failed to notice there was
even more underneath, hidden deep inside the dungeons of his castle.

Harry knew he wasn’t a good enough occlumens to protect his mind from intruders
completely, so the only way to hide what he wanted hidden was to lay out bait and push
everything else so deep down even he himself had to work to access them once he activated
his defences.

What lay beneath was what Harry called the first deep layer and contained his plans. It
contained how much he truly cared about his friends. The depth of his loathing for Voldemort
and fear of how much he still didn’t loathe Dumbledore. The fact that he could speak
Parseltongue. That Mehen existed. His long-term plans for the wizarding world.

And if someone managed to break through even that, they had to go through yet another wall
to access his hazy memories of a future that might never happen. His mother’s protection was
there, as well as the horcrux at the deepest, darkest, most fortified part of his mind.

Those last two were what he had hidden most ardently, which was exactly why he had buried
them in truth and lies and emotions so strong even an experienced legilimens would take
precious minutes to break through. If his shields didn’t hold, the maelstrom of emotions
would drag any intruder under long enough for Harry to counter or escape.

In theory, anyway.

It had incapacitated Voldemort long enough for Harry to get his mind (mostly) in order - or
Lily to interfere, at least - and take out the possessed professor.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly expected his emotions to break free and run amok in his mind
so much that they released the dark tendril thing (horcrux) and trapped Harry inside of his
mind as well.

You couldn’t have everything.

But Quirrell was dead (again). The horcrux was contained (again). And Kreacher had taken
Mehen with him before the teachers had arrived, so nobody knew he owned a snake - which
was probably helping the Gryffindor-image he wanted to project. Then again, having faced
Voldemort should do the trick for quite a while.

It was still dark outside, so Harry used the time to reorganise his thoughts. While his mother’s
protection hadn’t had any trouble sweeping the tendrils of the horcrux back into its prison,
even slightly undoing the damage from wraith-Voldemort’s legilimency attack took him until
the first light of day shone through the windows.

“Mr Evans-Potter!”

He could hear the relief in Madam Pomfrey’s voice and smiled at her encouragingly.

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey.” He paused for a bit while she came over and cast multiple
diagnostic spells over him. “First of all, I should probably say thanks for healing me. And
then I should probably say sorry for running into a dark lord…?”

There was a spark of determination in her eyes that was just on the edge of fury.

“You don’t have to apologise, Mr Evans-Potter. It should be the staff of this school who
apologise to you because we failed you horribly.”

“No! I mean… well, kind of.”

Madam Pomfrey was the person least responsible for it all. Everyone else, however…

“Professor Sprout was particularly distraught because you had apparently told her you
suspected a member of staff. And after it came out that Professor Quirrell…”

“Do you have to sit down, Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry patted his bed and the matron smiled thinly at him. “I will be fine. And I will make
sure that you are, too. Now. Potions.”
He spent the next half hour being plied with every potion he could imagine. It was annoying
to see that his hands still shook slightly, but Madam Pomfrey promised him it would be gone
within a week if he continued taking his potions and didn’t do any more magic.

He at least haggled that one down to being allowed to do his exams. Hermione would be
proud of him, he was sure. Everyone else… maybe less so. Blaise would probably think him
crazy for doing school work voluntarily.

“Mr Evans-Potter.” Harry looked up to see a smiling Albus Dumbledore standing in the
doorway. “How good to see you up! Madam Pomfrey said it would take at least another day.”

Harry swallowed. Maybe he should have pretended to sleep some more. But he had a lot to
do and little time.

“Good morning, Sir. How is everybody? And the stone…? I think… I think it was destroyed.
Quirrell hit it with a spell and there were all these splinters and...”

“Harry - calm down, please, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

Harry took a deep breath and clenched his trembling fingers into fists. Good to know he at
least had a way to get the headmaster out of here if necessary.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Two days. Your friends have been causing quite a bit of an uproar in their accusations of the
staff and their attempts to visit you.”

Dumbledore used his disappointed professor voice, but Harry couldn’t help the warm feeling
that spread through his chest. Good for them. Madam Pomfrey’s bad conscience made a lot
more sense now if she’d had to deal with a gaggle of distraught children for 48 hours straight.

“By now, the whole school knows what happened down there; they were screaming about it
loud enough.”

Also good.

“Did Fred and George try to send me a toilet seat? Because they promised me one if I ever
end up in the hospital wing again.”

That brought the twinkle back to Dumbledore’s eyes. “Yes, they did. But Madam Pomfrey
thought it… unhygienic and confiscated it.”

“Shame.” Harry shrugged. “Now. What about the stone?”

The headmaster looked more serious all of a sudden. “I see you are not distracted. Very well.
The stone. It seems it was, indeed, destroyed. Luckily, I arrived in time to stop anything
worse from happening to you.”

Fat lot of good that had done him. A house elf had been more helpful than the headmaster.
“Why didn’t the teachers arrive earlier? They must have been on their way by the time I was
knocked unconscious by Quirrell the first time…”

“Ah, yes. They made it through the traps easily enough - seeing as every single person who
had provided an obstacle was in the rescue party - but upon coming to the last room, they
found their way blocked by rather strong wards. Professor Quirrell was, apparently, more
adept at creating them than we had thought.”

Or rather Voldemort, who had instructed Quirrell. And while his magical reserves were
limited to what the professor possessed, there were ways to get around it, as Harry himself
had found out in his study of runes. He wasn’t surprised Voldemort knew some shortcuts as
well. After all, the man had created that curse on the defence position - that he couldn’t seem
to lift in his wraith state. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot.

“I was at the ministry, of course, and by the time I was beset by a quite persistent eagle owl
with very sharp talons and a letter with alarming content, some time had passed.”

Why had nobody thought to floo Amelia Bones at the ministry? She should have known
where Dumbledore was, seeing as she had been the one to ask him to come. Had all the
professors been too focused on getting to him?

“I only managed to break through the wards towards the end of what must have been a
formidable fight - judging by the damage to the room, at least.”

That made a strange sort of sense. Especially when you considered that Kreacher had
seemingly had no trouble getting through the wards after mastering the other tasks.
Voldemort continued to underestimate house elves. To his detriment. So did everyone else, to
Harry’s detriment, or they would have asked a Hogwarts elf to get him out. Harry would give
the elf a raise if he didn’t know Kreacher would be horrified by it.

“But… Nicolas Flamel…”

“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” Dumbledore smiled. “You were quite thorough, weren’t you?
Well, Nicolas and I had a little chat and he agreed that it was probably for the best.”

They continued that conversation along the same lines Harry remembered and barely
managed not to grimace at the next great adventure bit. It didn’t help his mood when
Dumbledore announced Voldemort was going to come back - really? Did he have to tell that
to a bloody eleven-year-old? - and it didn’t improve when the headmaster dodged the
question of why Voldemort wanted to kill him in the first place.

There was rage shimmering just under the surface and he shoved it down, behind some of his
newly rebuilt mental walls. It would be just one more thing to sort through. Why tell him
Voldemort would return when he refused to prepare him for it?

And a terrible truth started forming in his mind.

(Push it down.)
The talk about his mother’s sacrifice helped quell the anger a bit because he could still
remember being so filled and warmed by her love. He could actually still feel it now. It was a
beacon of light at the back of his mind, shining bright and drowning his sorrows, making
even the shadows lurking in the corners seem less sharp.

He still asked about the mirror and watched Dumbledore praise himself for the genius idea.
Admittedly, it had been brilliant, and Harry made sure to tell him so.

“What do you see when you look into the mirror?”, he asked him. “I mean… I’d understand
if you don’t want to say…”

“I?” He looked at Harry, something sad in his eyes, and for one moment he wondered
whether he would get the truth this time. “I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.
People insist on giving me books, but at last I got one pair for Christmas this year.”

Harry grinned, even though inside the last thread of hope was cut. “Glad you liked my gift,
headmaster.”

The twinkle in his eyes returned with a vengeance. “Oh! Thank you, my boy. They were very
much appreciated. In fact…”

The man lifted his robes to show off the brightly coloured pineapple socks and Harry
snickered. “You’re welcome.”

There was a short interlude with the Berty Botts’ Beans - this time Dumbledore got a mud-
flavoured one - but soon Harry was alone again. Madam Pomfrey poked her head in for just a
moment, but seeing him resting, smiled and went back to labelling potions.

Harry sank back into his pillow with a sigh.

If he had learned one thing from the whole conversation, it was that Dumbledore could not be
trusted. He had set everything up, pushed Harry towards a confrontation that could very well
have ended in his death. And he couldn’t help but wonder why.

He didn’t think Dumbledore wanted him to die, exactly. The man had been truly relieved by
his recovery and saddened by what had happened.

But Harry felt that something, maybe deep in the man’s subconscious, already knew that
Harry would have to die to fulfil the prophecy, even if he didn’t know about the horcrux yet.
Or maybe he thought that, if Harry was dead, the prophecy would be null and void and
someone else would be able to kill the Dark Lord.

It was an unkind thought, but Harry also believed the only reason why Dumbledore hadn’t
interfered with the Vernon Dursley situation was because Petunia and Dudley had remained
with him. If the muggle services had removed him from his relatives and tried to place him
with someone else, Harry thought the headmaster probably would have obliviated everybody
for the sake of the blood wards.
Protecting Harry seemed more like an arbitrary thing. It wasn’t about him as a person. It was
about him as a weapon against Voldemort. And if thousands could be saved, Dumbledore
would sacrifice the one.

Granted, he lived after the same principle himself and would sacrifice himself for the Greater
Good, but Harry felt he should at least be asked his opinion on whether he wanted to sacrifice
himself - because he was sure it would differ from Dumbledore’s quite a bit.

He had been that selfless in his last life, but this one was different. And he found himself
allowing himself to be selfish for once.

Whatever the reason, and whether Dumbledore admitted it to himself or not, he was standing
against Harry now and against his deep desire to live a long and happy life. In that, he was
almost no better than Voldemort, and just as dangerous. Harry had given him the benefit of
the doubt, but if this episode had proven anything, it was that he couldn’t afford to do that
anymore, no matter how much he liked the professor on an emotional level. And even that
part he wasn’t very sure wasn’t conditioned, same as his inherent hero-complex.

He checked once more to see whether Madam Pomfrey was looking, then he whispered
“Kreacher!” and watched the house elf pop into being right next to his bed.

“Young Master! Kreacher is so glad you is being okay!”

Harry offered his hand and the elf took it - after wiping his long nose with his pillowcase. His
fingers were spindly and dotted with wrinkles and liver spots, but Kreacher’s grip was strong
- as if he wanted to pull Harry back from the brink of death himself.

“I’m fine, Kreacher. Just like I said.”

The elf just held on more tightly and Harry squeezed back, suddenly realising what the
problem was. God, he was an idiot.

“Oh Kreacher. I’m so sorry. I ordered you away when I was in danger, just like your Master
Regulus did.”

Big tears were starting to flow, splashing onto the pillow case that, Harry now noticed, still
had streaks of dirt on it, as well as wrinkles running through it as if long fingers had clamped
onto the fabric again and again, waiting to see him wake up or...

Even the single objection he had muttered when Harry had told, no ordered him to take Ron
and go, to leave Harry behind with a possessed professor looming behind him, was against
Kreacher’s very being. But it must have taken the elf right back to that lake, watching
Regulus be dragged underwater while screaming at Kreacher to go.

“K-Kreacher is being sorry. Kreacher is a good elf who obeys when Master sends him away.
Even if… even if…”

“You are definitely the best elf, Kreacher. You did amazing. Going when I told you to - and
then coming back to help me. You did well.”
The elf sobbed loudly.

“You did well”, Harry insisted.

And then he strained his overexerted muscles to lift the small elf onto the bed so he could hug
him.

The tears were still flowing and Kreacher now clutched Harry’s hospital robe instead of his
hand. His long nose was buried in Harry’s chest while Harry awkwardly patted the elf’s back.

“I’m okay”, he said again, trying to make his voice more soothing. “And I couldn’t have done
it without you. And…” He swallowed. “I… If I ever end up in a situation like this again, I’ll
try not to give you orders. You’ll get to decide whether to leave or stay with me.”

“Kreacher will always stay with the Young Master.”

Harry sighed. That’s what he was afraid of. But he also refused to put a member of his family
into this sort of distress. He had seen what Regulus’ order had done to him. Had seen how
desperate he had been to destroy the horcrux and fulfil his maters’ last wish. How it had torn
him apart to be told to go.

How long had he waited for Regulus to return? How long had he hoped? How often had he
seen Walburga mourn her son, not knowing her elf knew exactly what had happened to him
and couldn’t utter a word of it?

Harry refused to add to this misery.

“That’s alright, Kreacher. Just don’t forget that I want you around too, so don’t go standing in
front of me while I’m facing a dark lord.”

“…what should Kreacher be doing then?”

Harry swallowed. It was obvious that Kreacher was determined to stay with him should a
situation like this ever happen again - and, with his crazy life, Harry had a feeling it would.

“You can stay with me, but be invisible, and then we’ll see how you can help.”

Kreacher pulled back a bit, but stayed on the bed, watching Harry’s face. Then he nodded
once, decisively, big bat-ears flapping.

“Kreacher can do that.”

The elf sat down, letting his legs dangle from the side of the bed. He looked more relaxed
than before and Harry found himself regretting his promise a bit less.

“Should Kreacher bring snakey-familiar?”

“Not yet. There will be too many people around. We’ll have to wait until tonight; I don’t
think Madam Pomfrey will let me leave the hospital wing yet.” He paused, looking over his
shoulder again. “Did you…?”
 “Oh! Yes, Kreacher got the stone out of weird mirror thing no problem! Although Kreacher
be seeing… weird things…”

Harry’s heart did a flip. “I’m so sorry I asked you to look into the mirror, Kreacher.”
Especially when the elf must have been itching to pop him to safety immediately.

“Oh no, it not being bad things. Kreacher just… Kreacher be seeing Black family together.
With Mistress Walburga and Young Master Regulus and Young Master Harry and…” The elf
stopped and eyed him weirdly, then continued. “Kreacher knows… it not being real. But it
make him happy still. And Kreacher be getting the stone from mirror-Kreacher and Kreacher
pop away with it.”

“Where is it right now?”

“Kreacher be putting it in Grimmauld Place, Young Master.”

At this rate, he really needed somewhere else to put horcruxes and mystical artefacts.

“Perfect. You’ve done a great job, Kreacher!”

If Voldemort had recruited house elves, he would have won the war decades ago, Harry
decided. Because Kreacher had just stolen the Philosopher’s Stone without anyone being the
wiser while Dumbledore had collected the shards of a modified red gem stone.

It was one of the ones he had found in the Room of Requirement and Harry had been
working on it for a while to get it to look just like the Philosopher’s Stone. He had even
pushed a bit of magic into it while trying to mask anything that would lead back to him, in
the hopes it would hold up to scrutiny better. Then, of course, he’d made sure it was hit by
one of the more powerful curses of the battle to be broken into as many tiny pieces as
possible.

He wasn’t sure whether Dumbledore bought it completely. But he was sure the man believed
that Harry, at least, didn’t have it.

Slightly dangerous was only the fact that Kreacher’s apparition with a student had, indeed,
sounded an alarm. Luckily, nobody seemed to want to talk to the “Hogwarts elf” who had
transported Ron Weasley because everything they could ask the creature, they could ask the
boy. At least Harry now knew using Kreacher as transportation would only be an emergency
thing.

His thoughts were whirling again and Harry took one of the chocolate frogs to distract
himself, barely managing to catch the frog before it could jump away, then biting off its head.
He couldn’t suppress a grin when he saw that the card showed Dumbledore.

Fate, he decided, was a fickle thing.

Chapter End Notes

So, who called it? 😁
I also hope it wasn't too confusing. Or just confusing enough to mimick Harry's state of
mind. Poor guy has been through the wringer. And poor Kreacher too.

There'll be another double feature the coming week, so keep your eyes peeled on
Tuesday and Saturday.
 The storming of Hogwarts
Chapter Summary

A storm arrives at Hogwarts. Or the righteous fury of one Petunia Evans. However you
want to look at it.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Susan, Hannah, Blaise, Neville, Theo and the Weasley twins invaded the hospital wing
directly after lunch. Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, but seeing Harry light up at the sight of
his friends made her give a huff and wave them onwards.

“Harry!”

Hannah started storming towards him, then stopped right before his bed, rocking back and
forth on the spot as if she could barely keep from throwing herself at him.

“It’s fine”, Harry decided. “I’m not gonna break.”

Hannah bit her lip, then decided to hug the life out of him after all.

“We were so worried! Neville told us about what happened. And then we interrogated
Ron…”

“…more like Bones slapped him silly…”, muttered Theo, and Harry was surprised he hadn’t
used his terrifying moniker for her yet - he could see in the boy’s eyes that he wanted to.

Harry was also surprised his friend was willing to be in a room with Gryffindors and
Hufflepuffs.

“He deserved it”, Susan huffed. “Really, how dumb can you be.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it when she rounded on him.

“And you. Blaise said you ran off without taking reinforcements! Are you stupid?!”

“There wasn’t any time”, Harry tried to defend himself.

“Bullshit!”, she screamed.

“Miss Bones, I must ask you to be more quiet and not upset my patient, or I will have to
remove you from the infirmary”, Madam Pomfrey’s stern voice interrupted her.
“Sorry, Madam Pomfrey.”

The matron nodded, then went back to organising her potions, but kept an eye on all of them.
Susan looked slightly apologetic and was playing with her bracelets again.

“You can lecture me when I’m out of here”, Harry offered. “When I’m not under stern
supervision.”

“We really are glad you’re alright, Harry”, Neville said. “And I… I’m so sorry. I really tried
to stop Ron.”

“I know, Neville. It’s not your fault. I heard Professor Sinistra was doing rounds and was
stunned and left in a corridor. Otherwise you would have been heard sooner.” Madam
Pomfrey had mentioned it in passing. “But… how did you know where the Slytherin
common room is…?”

That had been bothering him for a while and it promised to be an interesting story because
Neville turned beet-red.

“I-I… I followed you. Once. I was trying to work up my courage and apologise for… for
abandoning you. But then the Bloody Baron drifted past and I… I ran back. It was just about
curfew anyway. But I never forgot where it was. And when I couldn’t find anyone, you were
the first person I thought of…”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Harry shrugged while he watched Blaise and Theo exchange a glance.
Apparently they were only now realising they had underestimated Neville Longbottom. “It’s
okay, Neville. It worked out alright in the end.”

There were some fun times with the sweets and the twins telling the story of their toilet seat
adventures. His friends only left when Madam Pomfrey threw them out because they refused
to leave even when classes started up again.

Theo stayed behind for a bit, overlooked by the matron who had trouble shooing the Weasley
twins out who demanded to know what had happened to said toilet seat.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have been sorted into Gryffindor after all? Fighting the wraith of
the Dark Lord… what were you thinking?”

Harry had never heard his friend distraught and just blinked at him for a moment. “You think
Dumbledore would let me be anything other than the light boy saviour he has set me up to
be? Think again. Besides…” he put on an innocent voice “The public just adores me! Poor
orphan Harry Potter. Being so strong and selfless.”

“So it’s a political play.”

“Of course it is.”

Theo stared at him. And continued staring. Harry fidgeted with the edge of his blanket.
“You see, I don’t believe you. Why didn’t you take one of us? Blaise would have come.” He
paused. “I would have come.”

“I know.”

“Then why…”

“So you’re not seen allying with me against the Dark Lord.”

That lead to more staring. Harry thought he saw something like fear in Theo’s eyes. And
guilt. And determination.

“We would have come”, he repeated.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Next time, at least take Blaise.” He hesitated. “And Bones. She’s…”

“Terrifying. I know.”

The boy grinned and for the first time it seemed genuine. Harry also hadn’t known he had
dimples.

“Get well soon, Harry. At least your chaos distracts Blaise from annoying everybody else.”

Hermione showed up just before dinner, bringing a whole bag full of books with her, rattling
off the assignments Harry had missed and what the professors had said about the upcoming
exams. Harry knew it was her way of caring, and maybe a bit of an apology.

Ron poked his head in after dinner - when his big group of friends had just left while giving
him some dirty looks - ears red and head hanging low.

“I… I’m sorry. It was really dumb to run off instead of telling a teacher. I just didn’t think
they’d listen to me. McGonagall is nice and all, but… they don’t even listen to you, and
you’re the one who was attacked twice, so what chance did I have. And I thought… I
thought…”

Harry knew what he had thought. He didn’t need to read Ron’s thoughts because it was
written all over his face.

Ron had thought that, if he had an adventure with Harry, like Neville had with the troll, then
they could be friends too. After nothing had changed too much after the dragon heist, he’d
decided running in to save Harry from a dark lord was the way to go.

“Ron, that’s not the way to become friends. I… I’m honoured you want to be mine, but
there’s more to it than defeating trolls together.”

“I know. And I… I’ll do my best to be better. Even… even if we can’t be friends. Also… I
wanted to say thank you. You saved my life down there, so… Thank you.”
That didn’t magically make it all okay - but it was a start.

Hagrid came by as well and Harry spent most of that visit trying to calm the half-giant down
and then getting emotional about the photo album. He already had one this time around, but
he had mentioned to Hagrid how many more photos he had of Lily than James and the man
had delivered.

Now he just had to endure Mehen’s nagging when Kreacher brought him - about Harry not
listening, and almost being hit by stray curses, and Harry not listening, and Mehen almost
being killed by Voldemort, and Harry almost being killed by Voldemort, and Kreacher taking
him away when all he wanted to do was stay with him…

Mehen also apologised for freezing up in fear. He seemed to think it was absolutely
unbecoming of a snake and if he had only managed to slither off Harry behind the column
and made his way towards Quirrell in the chaos, he could have bitten him and ended the
fight. It was Harry’s turn to comfort his familiar then and assure him that the possibility of
losing him was worse than anything he’d gone through with Voldemort.

That pretty much ended the argument and the snake cuddled up to him, wrapped tight around
his arm as if to never let go again, and hissed soothingly into his ear until he fell asleep.

Harry was used to being stared at. This was not the first time the eyes of all students were on
him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Overall, it was a completely normal meal in the
Great Hall, only interrupted by the recurring whispers about the Quirrell incident from all
tables, especially now that the person most likely to have the whole story had been released
from the hospital wing just in time for breakfast.

Until the doors were flung open so violently it sounded as if they had been hit by a blasting
curse.

“Albus Dumbledore!”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears and turned around to the familiar voice, feeling his eyes
widen at the mirage that had popped up at the other end of the hall.

It had to be one. After all, this couldn’t be real.

Aunt Petunia had never looked like his mother at all. But with the light of the candles
reflecting reddish on her normally blond hair and the expression of righteous fury on her
face, she suddenly bore an uncanny resemblance to Lily Evans.

“Petunia!” Harry couldn’t tell whether the confusion in the headmaster’s eyes was real or
fake. “How did you get here?”

While he was speaking, his aunt had been making her way to the front.

“How DARE you! And that’s Ms Evans to you!”

Nope. Pretty sure the confusion was real.

“I don’t-“

“Harry is injured fighting Lord Voldemort” - everybody flinched simultaneously - “and I’m
not even informed? How DARE you?!”

“I assure you, Pet- Ms Evans that everything was under control and-“

“Control?!”

She had made it to the front where Dumbledore had risen from his seat and come towards her
slightly, arms waist-high as if to calm her down.

He still had no warning. The resounding slap made every single student flinch and Harry grin
widely.

“Harry faces a bloody maniac on his own in your dratted school, ends up in the infirmary,
other children are completely traumatised and you tell me - you tell me that’s control? And I,
as his magical guardian, am not even informed? That’s my nephew we’re talking about!”

A warm feeling was starting somewhere near Harry’s clavicle and spread throughout his
chest. The only thing spreading through Dumbledore was the blood under his skin, building
up to form a handprint-shaped bruise on his face.

“Now, if we could calm down and maybe take this conversation somewhere more private…”

“Private? Oh no. Not a chance in bloody hell! A criminal - terrorist even! - entered your
school and from what I’ve heard, has been here for the whole year teaching children! This -
this - is anything but private! You should have called magical law enforcement! Not to
mention the parents of the children involved!”

She was still standing almost nose to nose with the headmaster, her long neck lending her the
necessary height to look directly into his eyes. Harry had only one memory of her on a rant
like this and that had been right after a half giant had kicked down her door.

“Who exactly is that?”, Blaise whispered next to him, awe in his voice.

“That is my aunt, Petunia.”

“Explains a lot”, Draco grumbled from somewhere on his left.

Harry had thanked him too when the boy had hesitantly slunk into the hospital wing to
deliver a box of chocolate frogs and well wishes. The Malfoy heir had been the one to call his
eagle owl from the dorm and write a letter to Dumbledore while Blaise and Theo had run off
to alert the professors - which must have cost him a bit of effort, seeing as he hated the man
with a passion.

Speaking of the headmaster…

“Now, now. I am perfectly capable of handling this matter internally and-“

“You can shove that up your arse!”, roared Petunia. “Like you handled the troll? Harry
almost being killed by a bludger? Love potions being sent to a minor and nobody lifting a
finger?! No. Which is why I have corrected your mistake.”

Harry was sure he could see real fear in Dumbledore’s eyes as the doors banged open a
second time and red-robed people marched along the aisle. At the front was a stately woman,
blonde hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun and steel in her eyes.

“We’ll take it from here”, said Amelia Bones before turning her attention to the headmaster.

“Aunt Petunia!”

Harry stood when his aunt’s eyes started scanning the table with green-clad students and her
head snapped around to the noise, her whole demeanour softening.

“Oh Harry! I was so worried when I heard. Are you alright?” She paused. “Stupid question.
Of course you’re not alright.”

She had reached him at that point and captured him in an embrace so soft yet firm that he
almost started crying. Not that he would do that in front of all of Slytherin. Or his aunt. Or
Madam Bones.

Amelia Bones as well as everybody else had stopped to watch the reunion in front of their
eyes. There was a glint in the woman’s eyes that told him she had known exactly what she
was doing by letting his aunt enter first.

“I am okay, Aunt Petunia.”

She sighed. “That’s the most important thing. I’m so glad your friend wrote to tell me what
happened.”

Neville then. He’d taken a page out of his book and written to Harry’s guardian about the
incident. He couldn’t even be mad, especially after having just watched Dumbledore being
blindsided by a squib.

“That was one hell of an entrance.”

There was malicious glee in her eyes when she released him just enough to look into his.
“Why thank you. I figured showing up with a bunch of aurors in tow would speed up the
process considerably.”

The Slytherin students were whispering behind him, as were most of the other houses.
Amelia Bones seemed amused. Dumbledore seemed mostly dumbfounded.

“There is absolutely no reason to blow this small incident up to this proportion. I’m sure we
can all-“
“Small?! Another hint, nay, a whisper of anything like this happening again and I will take
your precious boy-who-lived and we’re moving to Australia!”

The whispering doubled in intensity.

“Professor Dumbledore.” Madam Bones’ voice cut through the tension like a knife. “I
suggest we take this to your office and you can explain to me exactly how a possessed
teacher managed to keep the DADA post for a whole school year…? I would also love to
know why a dangerous magical artefact was kept behind easily accessible traps at a school.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath, collected himself by brushing imaginary dust off his robes
and nodded his head.

“Of course. Follow me, please.”

As soon as the last scrap of his robes had left the Great Hall, nobody could stop the noise
level rising to unbelievable heights.

Blaise turned towards him. “Your aunt is wicked”, he summed up the incident.

“How did you even get into Hogwarts?”, Harry asked her.

He scooted over on the bench to make room. And while his aunt eyed the space for a bit and
the Slytherins eyed her suspiciously in turn, she soon lifted her chin and sat down.
Immediately, a golden plate, cup and cutlery popped into being in front of her.

Harry could see the excitement in her eyes, but she managed to project an outward calm that
impressed both him and, seemingly, his house mates.

“Poppy let me in. I sent Smaug to her when I arrived in Hogsmeade via floo.”

“Oh. Good on her.”

He definitely owed Madam Pomfrey some flowers. Or potion ingredients. Maybe a box of
chocolates.

Harry wasn’t sure, but thought Petunia might be the first squib apart from Filch to have eaten
a meal in the Great Hall - especially while sitting at the Slytherin table. Some of the older
students glowered at her a bit, but after having witnessed her giving the headmaster a
dressing-down - and some covert looks at Travers and Harry and shuddering afterwards -
nobody dared to say a single thing.

It may have also helped that Theo had spread the knowledge of Harry trying to protect his
Slytherin friends from the wrath of Voldemort by not asking them to face him. Theo made it
seem as if that had strengthened his standing in Slytherin as much as anything he had ever
done - not to mention nobody wanted to go against someone who had stood in front of
Voldemort and lived to tell the tale.

He counted that as a win and a step in the right direction.

 -

Getting his aunt to leave Hogwarts turned out to be a bit more difficult. If there was one thing
Petunia was, it was a huge gossip, and nothing beat the first official DMLE investigation at
Hogwarts in hundreds of years.

Petunia had far too much fun watching Amelia Bones and the aurors turn every stone in the
DADA quarters, interrogate professors, students and ghosts left, right and centre about what
had happened over the course of the school year and then about what had happened a few
nights ago - i.e. Harry’s murder of Professor Quirrell, which was soon dubbed self-defence
and a service to the public at that.

Petunia had already decided he was going to go to therapy about that, no matter how much
Harry protested and how much of a logistic nightmare it was going to be. That was also her
excuse for staying. Poppy Pomfrey had offered her a spare bed in her quarters and Petunia
could often be found discussing how to approach a psychologist with the medi-witch and
Amelia Bones.

She, apparently, also had half a mind to take him home with her and never let him set foot
into Hogwarts ever again. But seeing him laughing with his friends and being surrounded by
magic all the time seemed to change her opinion. She was even allowed to sit in during
Professor Flitwick’s and Professor Sprout’s exams, being especially enamoured by
Herbology, soon starting a discussion about plants with healing properties with the Hufflepuff
head of house and then continued to have a tearful conversation about Lily with Professor
Flitwick.

Harry was bewildered by the whole situation. Luckily, so was everyone else, and he didn’t
stand out too much.

A few days later, she did have to get back to Dudley, however, who was staying at Chris’
house due to a family emergency, so Harry spent the last few days of his Hogwarts year
lounging around the lake with his friends. Sometimes, he got the giant squid to surface, the
aquatic animal apparently remembering his time spent at the underground lake and trusting
him enough to throw an old quaffle back and forth from the shore. He even managed to
watch the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match this time around.

It was the happiest he had been at Hogwarts, not overshadowed anymore by dark lords or
exams. He even gave Draco Malfoy a box of Honeyduke’s chocolates as a birthday gift and
got an honest thank you, which boded well for their future alliance.

Even the end of term feast was more of a footnote, seeing as the big distribution of points had
taken place before then. Dumbledore had given Harry fifty points for his defeat of Voldemort,
as well as ten points each to Blaise, Theo and Draco for “keeping a calm head in a dangerous
situation and informing the proper authorities”.

Neville got twenty points for going above and beyond to get help, and Ron got ten points for
navigating the traps, but that was overshadowed by the howler he had received from his mum
- it would certainly go down in Hogwarts history for almost shattering the windows of the
Great Hall.
As Slytherin had been in the lead with Gryffindor in second place - the lack of a good seeker
had not done them any favours - the hall ended up decked out in green and silver and a smug-
looking Snape got the quidditch trophy to boost. Nobody seemed to mind much this time,
though. There were still looks being thrown Harry’s way that covered every single emotion
from awe to jealousy.

The exam results were posted the morning of their last day. Harry was still kind of annoyed
they put up lists and didn’t just give everyone a piece of paper. This way, Harry got to see
Hermione’s face fall when she realised she may be top of their year in Transfiguration, but
Harry had her beat in pretty much everything else - except Herbology, where Neville had a
lead neither of them had any hope of catching up to. Everyone from their study group had
done exceptionally well, actually.

What surprised him, however, was watching Hermione breathe deeply, turn towards him and
then hold out a hand to congratulate him on the amazing results.

“It’s really impressive, especially seeing as you’ve spent the days right before exams in the
hospital wing”, she mused.

“Thank you - also for bringing me material to help me study. And congratulations to you as
well; you did amazing!”

She blushed a bit and the last bit of jealousy disappeared from her eyes. “Well. Thank you.
And who knows, maybe I can beat you next year?”

He smirked at her. “Is that a challenge, Granger?”

“You’re on, Evans-Potter”, was the reply.

Seeing as it was accompanied by a smile, Harry didn’t take it to heart. Well then. It seemed
like Ron wasn’t the only one who had done a bit of growing up. Remembering how
overworked she had been in third year when there hadn’t even been competition made him
swear to make Neville keep an eye on her, though.

There wasn’t a lot of time to celebrate, as they were soon busy packing their trunks. Well,
everybody else was while Harry was mostly busy watching his dorm mates dash all over the
place, trying to find misplaced books or socks that had ended up on the other side of the
room. As he had stuck to his habit of keeping everything in his trunk, he felt he was allowed
to cackle like a mad man and tease them about it for hours.

The only time he got involved was when Blaise couldn’t find his favourite hair care product.
Harry, never one to pass up an opportunity like this, immediately summoned the missing item
from Malfoy’s bag. The ensuing argument about how it had ended up there - “It was
unintentional, I swear!” - provided the entertainment for the next half hour.

He’d convinced his aunt to let him take the train back to King’s Cross so that he could spend
some more time with his friends, although Madam Pomfrey had offered to have him use the
floo due to “special circumstances”. It turned out it wasn’t just his friends, though, as pretty
much the whole student population of Hogwarts visited their compartment, under some
pretext or other, to say goodbye.

And when he exited the train, Dudley came at him like a steamroller, pushing all the curious
onlookers out of the way to smother Harry in the fiercest hug he had ever gotten. Even
Hannah had nothing on it, but that might be the muscle his cousin seemed to be piling on.

“Mum told me the gist of what happened - but she wouldn’t let me come to Hogwarts with
her! I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“Hi, Dudley.” Harry hugged his cousin back. “It’s alright. She was just worried it would still
be dangerous. And with all the aurors running around…”

“I’m still glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

Dudley squeezed a bit stronger and Harry started laughingly thumping him on the back. “Let
me breathe, Dudley; I’m fine! Jeez, you’re strong.”

His cousin did, but there was something in his eyes that told Harry he should be prepared to
be hugged much more often in the coming weeks. Harry couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed
about that.

The rest of his friends, after having been greeted by their own parents, soon found their way
to them. Hannah actually hugged Dudley almost as hard as Dudley had hugged Harry. Susan
crossed her arms and then, almost ritualistically, transferred custody of Harry from his
nagging friends to his nagging cousin with the explanation “he needs constant supervision so
someone doesn’t kill him. It’s your turn now”.

That Dudley seemed to take the new assignment with a serious face slightly scared Harry.

“Not that we’re going to leave you alone for the whole summer - you’re not that lucky”, she
continued. “I’m expecting at least two owls a week. And we’re totally going to meet up.
Without anyone mentioning trolls or dark lords or Rita Skeeter.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”

She nodded once, then dragged Harry into the cuddle pile. “That’s settled then.”

“I am not joining that hot mess”, was Blaise’s comment when he showed up out of nowhere
right next to them.

There was a stern-faced woman following him, clad in a perfectly cut business suit, over
which a dark red robe with intricate embroidered flowers was draped artistically. She was
gorgeous, even Harry could tell. But it was a cold beauty, sharp like ice that might soothe a
wound just as well as cut you into tiny pieces.

“Blaise.”
Her voice was clear as ice too and even Harry couldn’t tell if there was any warmth for her
son hidden in the depth.

“Mother, may I introduce you to my friends?” Blaise had straightened his posture and
adopted a more snobby expression. “Hannah Abbott, heiress to the Abbott family. Susan
Bones, the niece of Madam Bones, head of the DMLE. Neville Longbottom, heir to the
Longbottom family.”

Neville had made his way over, his grandmother in tow as well. Madam Bones and Mrs
Abbott were following, soon standing next to Petunia and starting up a conversation as if
they’d only met yesterday. In the case of Madam Bones that was almost true, as she had spent
a large amount of the last two weeks switching between Hogwarts and the ministry and had
probably only taken off a few hours to pick up Susan. She was looking at Mrs Zabini with a
deadpan expression.

“And this is Harry Evans-Potter.”

His friend looked at Harry in question and Harry knew exactly what he was asking. He
glanced at Madam Bones out of the corner of his eyes. What he wanted was immediately
obvious from the way Blaise had introduced everyone - so he nodded and gave Blaise a small
smile.

“He’s the heir to the Black family.”

Madam Bones startled, then narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down some more,
while Harry studiously ignored her and instead held out his hand to Blaise’s mother.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Zabini.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She shook his hand, then turned around to do the same with his
aunt and the other parents and Harry watched Blaise heave a sigh of relief.

“Heir to the Black family?”

Amelia Bones was suddenly standing right next to him, looking thoroughly intrigued.

“Oh yes. We found out when I visited Gringotts for the first time. My godfather, Sirius Black,
gave me access to a personal Black family vault” He left out on purpose how little money
was in there “and then made me heir to the Black family. Arcturus Black never contested this
- and here we are.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and Harry silently congratulated himself. Perfect.

“Harry, he is in Azkaban for…”

“Oh, I know. When I became Heir Black, the goblins were allowed to inform me of that
situation. Frankly, it doesn’t make a lot of sense and I would have tried to put in a complaint
with the ministry, but…”
She sighed. “They wouldn’t even install your aunt’s floo. I can’t exactly blame you.” With
another look at Susan, who was happily chatting away with Hannah, Blaise, Dudley and
Neville, she turned to him and it was definitely Madam Bones, not Amelia, who addressed
him now. “I will look into the situation.”

“Thank you, Madam Bones.”

This was another reason why Harry had endured all the chaos this year. No matter how
people reacted, whether they believed him or not - he could only win.

Either they had now understood that he should be taken seriously and didn’t lie just to gain
attention. Or he had the excuse of having tried everything in his first year, but nobody taking
him seriously, so now he could defend just taking measures into his own hands. It was a win-
win for him, really, even if it had been annoying to get through.

“Mr Evans-Potter?”

Next meet-the-parents, apparently. He turned around to face Madam Longbottom and took
the offered hand, smiling winningly at her.

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am. Neville talked about you often.”

That seemed to mollify her a bit and she managed to give him a smile. “Thank you. I wanted
to invite you to Longbottom Manor for a visit. Please owl me about appropriate times. Your
aunt and cousin are welcome too, of course.”

Though she looked slightly put-off about having to make that offer, Harry noted.

“Thank you, Madam Longbottom. I will get back to you as soon as possible”, Harry said.

She nodded, then dragged Neville from the gaggle of people. Harry managed to give his
friend a wave and a reassuring smile, then he and his grandmother disappeared through the
floo.

“I think we’d better go too”, Susan said. “Aunt Amelia has a lot to do.” She looked pointedly
at Harry.

“Hey, at least she was told about it and actually allowed to enter Hogwarts to investigate…?”,
he defended himself.

She punched him in the shoulder jokingly, then waved at everyone and reminded them once
again to meet up soon. Everyone else seemed to be about to disperse as well, so Harry let his
eyes drift over the platform once more. He saw Draco being led away by his parents and he
inclined his head towards Harry minimally, which he returned. The Weasleys were still
sorting through school trunks in a corner and Harry stared for a bit, trying to figure out when
they would be leaving and trying to come up with an excuse to approach them.

He kept an eye out for Theo too, hoping to at least wave his friend goodbye, but he seemed to
have already disappeared - not that Harry was surprised by him staying away from this mix
of ideologies he had seemingly created.
And then there was something glinting in the sun light and a head full off of blond curls
making its way towards their group. Harry looked back at the gaggle of red-heads, then
grinned.

“Aunt Petunia? Put on your Skeeter-face”, he whispered while tugging on her robe sleeve.

She looked up, saw the reporter closing in and immediately her face locked into an
expression of determination.

“Miss Skeeter.”

“Ms Evans.” Skeeter nodded at her. “Mr Evans-Potter. I have been hearing truly outrageous
things from my sources in the DMLE. Would you care to give a statement as to what has
been going on at Hogwarts the last month?”

Harry looked up at his aunt. She looked down at him, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded and her
mouth turned down a bit at the corner, but when she looked up at Skeeter, there was no trace
of disapproval left.

“Very well. But not here. We will organise a meeting by owl, like civilised people. And you
would do well refraining from speculation in any articles until that meeting.”

Skeeter didn’t look happy, but must have been used to the agreement by now because she
only gave a curt nod at that.

“We could take a photo, though”, Harry interjected. “Ron Weasley was a part of the incident
and he’s over there - it might be difficult to get a picture of both of us otherwise.”

Aunt Petunia squeezed his hand, but gave no outward sign of surprise while Rita Skeeter’s
smile took on that glint again.

“What a splendid idea!”

Harry hurried towards Ron, trying to get him ready for the invasion before being dragged off
by a bespectacled beetle. The twins exchanged a glance when he just waved their greetings
away for the moment with an apologetic smile and then dodged Molly Weasley’s attempt to
hug the life out of him - that seemed to happen a lot to him today.

“Oh, Harry, dear, I can’t thank you enough for getting Ron out of there! He told me
everything and you were so brave-“

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley. In fact, that’s kind of what I want to talk about. You see, the
papers are very interested in getting to the bottom of this, and seeing as Ron was a part of it,
they have asked for a picture of the two of us. It will probably appear in the Prophet in a
fortnight or so, when the longer article comes out…”

Or in about a month, if everything went to plan.

“Oh!”
 He was smothered yet again while Ron stared at him wide-eyed and the twins exchanged
another glance.

Harry knew she wouldn’t be able to resist seeing one of her sons mentioned in the paper.
Hell, she’d probably frame a cut-out. And Ron, while having grown at least a bit during the
year, was still entranced by fame and ending up in the Prophet next to the famous Harry
Potter… well. There was no doubt how this would turn out.

By the time Rita and her photographer had fought their way through the crowd, Harry had
already gotten permission from both and they were soon positioned in front of the Hogwarts
express, arms around each other's shoulders.

Harry tried to keep the grin on his face while ignoring the rat on the boy’s shoulder, keeping
his arm from touching the rodent as to not accidentally incinerate it in his anger and keeping
down the longing and loss that came with being arm in arm with Ron Weasley.

There was a flash of the camera, another one, and soon it was over.

“Thank you, Mr Evans-Potter - Mr Weasley. I will be in contact shortly.”

And while Ron was being mothered by Mrs Weasley, exclaiming in joy about a feature in the
newspaper, Harry made his way back to his aunt.

“Let’s go.”

She gave him an inscrutable glance, but nodded sharply, took Dudley by the arm as well and
then steered them both towards the floo through the now rapidly thinning crowd.

Harry bent down to tie his shoe just before entering the floo and felt Mehen slither into his
sleeve.

:Did you get it?:, he asked the snake.

The fact that Mehen didn’t answer was answer enough. Harry grinned, stepped into the
flames and spun his way back to Privet Drive.

Home.

Chapter End Notes

I added a short epilogue, which means you get another extra chapter this week. And next
week I'll go straight to Year 2, Part 3! 😊

Gotta go now, so I'll be answering the comments from the last chapter later. Until then -
enjoy!
Edit: Uuuuh... oops? While drafting the epilogue on here, I accidentally posted it. I
wasn't quite done with the last edit, so I took it down again. Sorry for everyone who got
their hopes up. I feel super bad about that. It'll be posted on Satuday, like all the extra
stuff is.
 Epilogue: To catch a rat
Chapter Summary

To put the speculations about certain rats to rest. 😉

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Before Harry could exit the floo, there was something like a wall and he continued to spin
and spin, unable to exit into his home.

What was… oh. Of course.

Harry wrapped his magic around Mehen and then prodded the part with Lily’s protection in
his mind, asking for entry. It flowed through him, touching and testing his magic and his
familiar, then drawing back. It finally cleared the way, albeit reluctantly.

How fascinating.

Under the pretence of putting his things away and freshening up a bit, Harry manoeuvred his
trunk upstairs and then locked himself in his room. Then he turned off the lights. And shut
the blinds. And threw his invisibility cloak over himself and hid under the covers of his bed.

:You can come out.:

The snake slithered out of his sleeve, now visible on the white sheet while Harry remained
under his father’s cloak. It was immediately obvious why he hadn’t answered Harry since
leaving his side at King’s Cross.

There was an absolutely terrified rat in his mouth. It was missing a finger on its front paw.

“Well, well well.” Harry used his Knockturn Alley voice. “Hello, Wormtail.”

The rat twitched, but being held between Mehen’s fangs, didn’t dare do more than roll its
eyes in fear and emit a weak squeak. Not being able to see who was talking, having heard
someone speak Parseltongue, being kept in almost-darkness… he must feel paralysed.

“Oh, don’t worry. The snake will only kill you if I ask it to. But beware, one scratch with a
poisonous fang is enough to kill you. Slowly and painfully, by the way.”

There was another squeak and the rat was breathing even more heavily now. Its little chest
was trembling, rising every time Wormtail breathed in and got closer to Mehen’s rear fangs.
 Harry was almost glad for the invisibility cloak so nobody had to see the manic grin on his
face.

“Now. Say aaah.”

At seeing the pipette filled with potion, the rat tried to wriggle again and squeaked until
Mehen slightly tightened his jaws some more. The rat opened its mouth.

And Harry dropped some of the Draught of Living Death in there that he had stolen from
Snape’s office.

He could have probably gotten it from Knockturn, but the potion was difficult to make and he
wanted to be sure it wasn’t accidentally the draught of the entirely dead. The best way to
make sure it worked properly was getting it from the best potion master of their generation.
The dragon heist had just been a distraction, a cover-up, so to speak. After all, this was more
important.

This would free Sirius.

Wormtail swallowed. The squeaking got more and more quiet. His breathing got slower and
slower. Until his chest wasn’t rising anymore and he might as well be dead.

But he wasn’t.

And Harry would make sure he stayed that way until he could deliver the rat to the right
people in such a fashion that nobody would be able to ignore it.

:I told you I could help you catch the rat:, Mehen said smugly.

:Thanks, buddy. You did a really great job.:

Harry took off the invisibility cloak, then switched to muggle attire and unlocked the doors.
When he opened the blinds and saw sunlight streaming in, it reflected off his bright grin.

Chapter End Notes

And that’s the second part, year one, done! I hope you liked it because I had a blast
writing this! 😄

Getting all of your nice and sometimes very insightful comments always made my day
and was really motivating too. I hope I got back to everyone because I try to reply to
every person. It was getting a bit confusing at times until I found a way to organise
myself (because it actually takes me about an hour to answer them all), so I hope I didn’t
miss anyone.
It’s really interesting to get feedback on my writing, though - see what kind of scenes
people comment on the most, if they like the character dynamics, etc…
I especially loved writing those: Blaise, the chaos gremlin. Hannah, the sunshine of the
group. Susan, the game master. Neville, the person with the heart of gold. Theo, the
perceptive one. And Harry, who is just… mayhem personified if we’re being honest.

I hope you’re ready to see their next adventures because the first chapter of part three,
year two, will be up on Tuesday! See you there, hopefully.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!