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Chapter Text

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Chapter Text

During the train ride back to Platform 9 3/4, Theo had been a nervous wreck. He kept his facade up, but Hermione could sense it as blatantly as if he were screaming about it.

“You okay?” she murmured softly to him as their friends talked loudly amongst themselves.

“Fine,” he said tightly. He hadn’t told Hermione he was staying with Harry yet. He was worried that she might piece together the reasoning, especially if his fathers death made the news, and he didn’t want her to know anything about it.

He also thought Hermione was brilliant, sharp, and the most amazing witch he’d ever met. And she might figure out why Theo wasn’t with his father in the first place. And then, like his father, she’d be disappointed with his weakness and would leave him.

And Hermione was the best thing to ever happen to him. Theo couldn’t lose her.

Their conversation was interrupted with the arrival of the Weasley Twins, both of whom had arms full of candies and snacks.

“Can we join the party?” one of them asked cheerfully. Theo had no idea which was which, and was incredibly impressed that Harry seemed to instinctively know which one was Fred.

Which made sense, because Harry seemed to have a keen sense of instinct that led him to understanding a lot of things about people.

Back in October, after their lesson on boggarts, Harry took him to the legendary Chamber of Secrets and played a game to draw out Theo’s most shameful secret. It didn’t matter that Theo didn’t want to tell him, Harry seemed to have already known it before they even step foot in the chamber.

“Why is your Dad the thing you fear the most?” Harry had asked it with sharp eyes and in that moment, for just a split second, Theo could see why the older Slytherins thought Harry was the next Dark Lord. Harry looked fearsome, powerful, and prepared to go to war.

And a war is what he immediately declared when he asked if Theo wanted him to kill his Dad.

Theo said yes.

Harry saw Theo’s boggart and knew what it meant. Theo thought (hoped) that only kids like himself and Harry knew what it meant. It meant that caregivers weren’t inherently kind, and adults couldn’t always be trusted. In fact, adults usually couldn’t be trusted.

Harry knew that.

When Theo saw him flinch away from people and grit his teeth at loud noises he thought that Harry might know that better than most people.

So Theo kept his facade up, all the while admiring Harry’s calm demeanor. You’d never know this was a teenager planning on killing a man soon. Planning on killing a man who uses dark magic as easily as Harry himself uses his knife even.

Harry sat on the floor, in the most undignified manner Theo has ever seen, and talked with Blaise, Neville, and Luna about summer plans. He played poker and kept up his good cheer when Luna refused to be his partner because she wouldn’t choose a losing side. He discussed the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasley’s and Draco. And right before the train pulled in the station Harry snapped his fingers to make his camera float in midair so they could take a new group photo with the addition of the Weasley Twins, where Harry smiled brightly from his accustomed place between Luna and Susan.

It was as impressive as it was exhausting. The only mask Theo could manage was bored, and Harry spent the whole ride entertaining the others.

When the train arrived in the station Theo kissed Hermione goodbye in the privacy of the emptied compartment before he politely walked her to her parents.

“Hermione, Theodore,” Hermione’s mother, Jean, smiled warmly at them. “How was your year? I want to hear all about it.”

“It was great,” Hermione hugged her mother fiercely before hugging her father just as hard. “Can Theo come get dinner with us before we all go home?” She bit her lip lightly when she looked at Theo and he thought she seemed worried.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Theo told her before her mother answered, probably affirmatively. Hermione’s parents seemed to like him as they got to know him over visits last summer. It was a point of pride with Theo that Hermione’s parents trusted him with their only daughter. “I’m staying with Harry for a few days, and we have to floo to his house.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him slightly and Theo knew that she was annoyed he kept it from her until last minute.

“I’ll write you,” he whispered as he hugged her goodbye.

“Tell Harry I said thank you,” she whispered back cryptically.

“Theodore don’t be a stranger this summer,” Hermione’s father, Dan, said cheerfully. “We still have to finish our chess tournament.”

“Of course,” Theo smiled politely at Hermione’s father, who was as different from his own father as possible. “I’d never pass up an opportunity to hear more stories about Hermione as a child.”

Hermione’s parents and Theo all laughed at the look of indignation on Hermione’s face before, with one last goodbye, the three Grangers left.

Theo looked around the emptying platform and almost missed Harry’s shock of messy black hair as hidden as it was surrounded by two tall blondes and a couple of redheads.

“Theodore,” Lucius Malfoy said cordially as Theo approached the odd group. “How are you?”

“Fine sir,” Theo said back just as politely. He’d never understand how Harry had managed to pull a devout Death Eater to his side so easily, but figured it was just another of Harry’s many talents.

“Ready to go?” Harry asked him, beneath the freckled arm of Fred Weasley.

“I suppose so, yes,” Theo said slowly.

“Are you going with Harry?” Draco asked, envy plain as can be on his face.

“Theo’s staying the night and helping me study some runes I wanna learn,” Harry lied easily.

“I can help too,” Draco offered brightly. “I think I did well on the final in Runes.”

“Your cousin will come visit us soon Dragon,” Narcissa Malfoy said softly. “Right Harry?”

“Of course Cissa,” Harry grinned at the regal appearing woman. “Plus we’ve got the Quidditch Cup this summer, yeah? Fudge sent me tickets to the Top Box.”

The Weasley Twins laughed, and Theo’s bored mask slipped slightly as Harry casually mentioned the actual Minister of Magic sending him tickets to the coveted Top Box of an international professional Quidditch match.

“Then we shall see you there darling,” Narcissa said before sweeping a still pouting Draco off towards the floo.

“You guys are coming too, right?” Harry asked Fred and George.

“Your wish is my command,” the twin with his arm around Harry, Fred, said dramatically.

“Even more so when Ronnikins will die of jealousy,” George laughed.

“Why would Ron be jealous?” Harry asked curiously. “He’s coming too, isn’t he?”

Theo had a sudden realization.

“Harry,” he said slowly. “How many tickets did the Minister send you?”

“Twelve,” Harry said easily. “Wanted one for everyone plus one for Snape, didn’t I?”

“Merlin,” George sputtered. “Do you have any idea how much those tickets cost?”

“Didnt cost anything,” Harry shrugged. “I just told you I got them for free.”

The Weasley’s, and Theo to a lesser extent, all gaped at Harry’s casual tone.

“I’m dating the bloody Boy-Who-Lived,” Fred whispered in a stricken tone. “Merlin.”

“Come on Freddie, let’s go find Mum before you have a panic attack,” George laughed nervously as he pulled Fred off towards a large group of redheads that could only be Ron’s family.

“Did I say something wrong?” Harry blinked at Theo.

Theo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the hold Harry unknowingly had over people.

“No,” he said steadily. “You’re just you.”

Harry gave him such a ‘duh’ look that Theo could practically hear Susan echoing the sentiment.

“Let’s go surprise Snape,” Harry said with a mischievous smirk that gave Theo a bad feeling.

“When you say ‘surprise Snape’, you don’t mean that you neglected to tell your guardian that I’m staying with you, do you?” Theo trailed helplessly after Harry towards the floo.

“When I say ‘surprise Snape’ I mean, let’s go surprise Snape,” Harry said simply as he stepped up to the floo. “I’ll go first, just say Spinners End: Sevvie, alright?”

Theo scoffed that Harry made his password his bloody owl. Apparently Snape didn’t tell him that he shouldn’t make his password something so easily guessed. Which was a bit daft of Snape really, considering Theo didn’t know anyone, save Dumbledore maybe, that had as many enemies as Harry Potter. But he nodded and waited for Harry to disappear in the flames before stepping up himself.

“Spinners End: Sevvie!” he cried.

“-gonna love it,” Harry was laughing when Theo landed in a surprisingly nice sitting room. The walls were a dark forest green, and there were sleek looking black leather recliners and a large cushioned sofa situated around a pleasantly large number of bookcases.

“Is Theodore the surprise?”

Theo looked up at Professor Snape sheepishly. He knew it would be a horrible idea to ‘surprise’ their Head of House with his arrival in his home. Snape hated kids, it was just a well known fact. He liked Harry, but almost everyone seemed to like Harry.

And if they didn’t like Harry then they were terrified of him, which was just as good in Theo’s opinion.

“Yep,” Harry said unrepentantly as he tapped his and Theo’s trunks with his pinky, immediately causing them to disappear. “He’s staying here for a few days.” Harry turned his head and winked at him, apparently conveying a message that Theo didn’t understand.

“And your father approved of this?” Snape asked with his brows lifted unbelievingly.

“He did,” Theo lied. His father was under the impression that Theo was staying with the more acceptable Malfoy family for two nights. He never would have let Theo come to the home of Harry Potter. In fact, Theo was grateful that his father didn’t know about his friendship with Harry in general. Theo never would have formally allied himself to Harry if it wasn’t for the knowledge that his father would hopefully be gone before he found out.

If Harry was to be believed anyway.

“Very well.” Snape gave him a skeptical look, but thankfully dropped the subject. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you sir,” Theo said politely.

“He likes to be called Severus in the summers,” Harry smirked. “Hates being called sir, doesn’t he?”

“And yet you continue to call me Snape during the holidays,” Snape said with a Harry-like roll of his eyes. “Theo you are welcome to call me what you please as long as you refrain from using any of Harry and Miss Bones’ more colorful language.”

“Okaaay,” Theo said slowly with a hesitant glance towards Harry. He was almost starting to regret accepting Harry’s invite. He had no idea how to interact with his Professor in an informal setting.

“Can we trade rooms now that Theo’s here?” Harry abruptly asked Snape.

“We are not trading rooms because you have a guest,” Snape said curtly, apparently this was an ongoing disagreement between them. “We are perfectly able to expand your room if we must.”

“Fuck,” Harry laughed. “Dunno why I didn’t think of that. It’s brill. C’mon Theo.”

Theo followed Harry through the sitting room to a set of polished black stairs and up to a short hallway.

“Our rooms in here,” Harry said, throwing open a black paneled door to the most horribly decorated room Theo had ever seen.

“Merlin,” he cringed. “What happened in here?” The walls were painted a mismatch alternating pattern of bright green and blue with literal splotches of red and yellow here and there throw on top of it.

“Oh.” Harry crinkled his forehead as he looked around the horrifying room. “Painted it last summer. I was just trying out different colors.” Harry shrugged and waved his hands and Theo watched as the walls changed to a dark blue, not unlike that of the Ravenclaw house. “Better?” Harry asked.

“Much,” Theo said as he sat gingerly on the edge of Harry’s bed. “So... what’s the plan?”

“Simple, you’re staying over for a few days and when your Dad tragically dies then I’ll tell Snape you’re staying for good,” Harry sounded distracted as he glanced around the room with a look of pure concentration. “Don’t move for a minute, yeah?”

Theo didn’t even have a chance to ask why before Harry held his hands up to his chest, palms out.

“I want this room to be bigger,” he hissed out, thankfully in English. Theo didn’t know if he could handle Parsletongue on top of the rest of the absurdity that was dealing with Harry on a one-on-one basis.

Theo would have told him that magic didn’t just work because you wanted it to, except that apparently for Harry Potter it did.

The house shook lightly as Harry’s bedroom seemed to swell, and swell, and swell, until it was the size of a small studio flat.

“Sweet Merlin!” Theo yelped, jumping to his feet when the room stopped swelling. “How did you do that?!”

“Magic,” Harry deadpanned, despite his panting breath. “Bit harder than I thought.”

“Harry, Theodore, may I come in?” Snape knocked on the door.

“Yup,” Harry called from the spot on the floor where he decided to sit as he caught his breath.

“Foolish brat,” Snape said as he looked around the magically expanded room. “I said we Harry, we could expand your room.”

“Didnt need help, did I?” Harry looked up at Snape curiously. “It’s done now. ‘M just gonna make it a bit bigger later and add a wall or somethin’ so it’s a bit more private, like two rooms instead of one.”

“No you will not,” Snape said sharply. “I will do it before you drive yourself to magical exhaustion.”

“Is that possible?” Harry muttered to Theo as Snape drew his wand and began changing the room again.

“Possible, but rare,” Theo told him. “It’s usually something that happens to young kids when they do accidental magic that’s too strong for their core to handle.”

“Pft,” Harry scoffed. “I’ve been doing accidental magic since I was five.”

“It is not accidental if you intentionally did it,” Snape cut in. “Is this what you envisioned?”

Snape had made the room even larger and had the back wall wide with a dividing wall that cut halfway down the room.

“Yep,” Harry got to his feet slowly as he looked around the newly expanded space. “I’ll put my bed on that side-“ Harry pointed towards the side that had the clear view of the door, “and we can go buy Theo a bed tomorrow to go there,” he pointed at the other side of the wall. “Then we just need another dresser, nightstand, and a wardrobe cause I’m not sharing my closet.”

“This is an incredible amount of work for a temporary house guest,” Snape said slowly, looking them both over with his perceptive eyes. “Is there anything I should be aware of?”

“Nope,” Harry lied as he unstuck a photo from above the place his bed was. “Just wanna have room for my friends, yeah?”

Snape looked as if he didn’t believe Harry at all, but dropped the subject.

“Mavis says dinner is in an hour,” he said instead. “He also says that if you are late he won’t make dessert because apparently ‘Mavis has been missing Master Potter’.”

“‘Kay.” Harry tapped his bed with his knuckles and smirked when it disappeared and reappeared in the newly made space for it. “We’ll be there.”

Snape sighed in a weary way that Theo could understand before leaving the room.

“You can sleep on the sofa tonight and then tomorrow we can grab Draco and go to the furniture store Cissa showed me,” Harry called over his shoulder as he reattached his photo to the new place above his bed. “Kay?”

“I’ll have to go to Gringotts first,” Theo said. “I’ll need to withdraw money from my account.”

“Don’t,” Harry waved his hand and started unpacking his trunk, sending his belongings flying around the room with the silent and wandless magic he controls that Theo would kill for. “‘M gonna buy it. Well, I guess Sirius Black is. But same difference, yeah?”

“No,” Theo threw his hands up, exasperated with the odd things Harry says. “It’s not the same difference at all! Why would Sirius Black buy me a bed?!”

Harry blinked up at Theo, surprised by his outburst.

“Because I’m his Heir,” he explained slowly. “And I claimed my Heirship while he was in Azkaban so now I use his vault to buy things so my Potter vault can ‘earn interest’ or whatever Griphook says. There’s a ton of money in there, don’t worry.”

“You’re mad,” Theo groaned as he slid his trunk to the space that Harry determined was his. “Absolutely mad.”

“No I’m fuckin’ not,” Harry sneered from the other side of the dividing wall.

Theo gazed around the little private room Harry had made just for him. Harry was mad, but he was also sly, perceptive, cunning, and one of the most powerful Wixen Theo’s ever heard of. Theo and Hermione may be the most ‘book smart’ people in their year, but Harry was a genius when it came to people and magic, which was worth a lot more in some ways than book smarts were.

“No, you’re not,” Theo agreed quietly. “You’re brilliant.”

Theo woke up early the next morning, after spending the night tossing and turning on Harry’s sofa, and blearily stumbled in to Harry and Snape’s kitchen.

“Good morning Theodore,” Snape said, startling Theo at his quiet place at the dining table. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” Theo lied.

He’d slept terribly. He’d been worried about Harry, worried about his father, and worried he made the wrong decision for the last two weeks. It seemed like the closer it got to summer, the more stressed Theo came over it.

He didn’t want Harry to get hurt, or arrested, by trying to kill his father. Even though Harry easily admitted to killing Lockhart, Lockhart was a moron and Theodore Nott Senior was an extremely powerful man.

Theo knew this for a fact because he was his fathers favorite target to show the strength of his power to.

And even though Theo had spent his whole life wishing to be aware from his father, hiding from him as much as he was able to in the summers, and carried scars on his body from the man’s own wand- he was still his father. And Theo would be relieved to never set eyes on him again, but he was also already mourning him. He was mourning the father that he never got to have. The one that he would have done anything to make proud of him.

So yeah, he slept pretty badly.

“Harry should be up soon,” Snape said as he sipped something that smelled like the same weird hot coffee Harry drank in the mornings. “I presume you both will be shopping today?”

“Yes sir,” Theo said with a grateful nod towards Harry’s weird elf when he put a plate of fruit and a cup of tea in front of him. “Thank you Mavis,” he said kindly.

“Mavis is being happy to feed Master’s friend,” Mavis squeaked with a toothy smile. “And Mavis will be being happy to have Master’s friend here for as long as he is staying.”

“Speaking of which,” Snape drawled, putting the paper he had been pursuing down flat on the table. “How long exactly did you father grant you leave to stay here?”

“A few days,” Theo said evasively as he thought quickly of a way to lower Snape’s suspicion. “But... but he thinks I’m at Draco’s house. He doesn’t like Harry much sir.” Theo knew that admitting to one small lie usually helped to hide the bigger ones. If he admitted his father didn’t know he was at Harry’s house it might make Snape less suspicious on how long he was planning on staying.

And it worked apparently. Snape smirked at him and lifted the paper back up.

“I see,” he said simply. “I imagined that the Senior Mister Nott would never have approved of his Heir residing with Harry Potter.”

“No sir,” Theo agreed quietly as he picked at the food in front of him.

Snape hummed before the two of them lapsed in to an uncomfortable silence. Theo kept looking towards the kitchen doorway, wishing Harry would show up soon to break the tension.

Eventually Snape checked the time and frowned.

“Mavis,” he called. “Would you kindly go wake Harry up and remind him that it is important he still has breakfast at the same time in the summers as he does at school?”

“Mavis can,” Mavis said happily before popping away instantly.

“Why?” Theo asked curiously.

“Why what?” Snape asked, not unkindly.

“Why does Harry need to eat breakfast at the same time?” Theo clarified.

“Because Mavis made him breakfast,” Snape said, which made no sense at all.

“Master Potter is not being here,” Mavis squealed as he loudly cracked back in to the kitchen. “He is not being anywhere in the house or the yard.”

“God damnit,” Snape swore. “Where is Harry?” he asked Theo severely.

“Probably getting Draco,” Theo lied. He had no idea where Harry was. They had said goodnight last night and planned on getting Draco and going shopping after breakfast today.

Snape stared at Theo intently for a long moment. Theo struggled to keep his face clear of any emotions before Snape finally nodded curtly.

“You’re lying,” he said. “Where. Is. Harry?”

“I really don’t know sir,” Theo said nervously. “Honestly.”

Their silent stare off was interrupted by a loud POP! and Harry suddenly appeared in the kitchen.

“Fuck.” Harry swayed on his feet and gripped the kitchen counter tightly. “Morning.”

Snape leapt to his feet and was beside Harry in an instant.

“Where were you?” he asked sharply. “And why do you stink like...” Snape inhaled before groaning and running a weary hand down his face. “Why do you smell like fire Harry?”

Fire?

Theo looked Harry over carefully and saw that he was covered in soot, despite apparently bloody apparating, and did smell strongly of smoke.

“Accident,” Harry said as he glanced around the kitchen quickly in a way that Theo recognizes as an assessment of danger or threats. “‘M gonna go shower.”

“Eat first,” Snape snapped. “Then shower.”

“‘Kay,” Harry yawned and plopped down in the seat between Theo and Snape and was immediately served by his elf. “Ta Mavis.”

The three of them sat in what was absolutely a much more tense silence than Theo and Snape had shared. Harry quickly ate a plate of pancakes and fruit, seemingly indifferent to the state of disarray he was in. Snape glared at Harry and tapped his foot irritably as Harry dodged every question he threw at him. And Theo? Theo was confused.

He sat quietly while he waited for Harry to finish eating then followed him up to his room just as quietly. He couldn’t hold back his questions anymore the moment the door closed behind them.

“Where were you?” he asked Harry.

“Your place,” Harry murmured as he dug through his dresser. “It’s done.”

“What?” Theo staggered backwards and fell to the floor. “Harry- what happened?!”

Harry shrugged as he grabbed a long sleeved shirt from his closet.

“We fought, he said a lot of rude shit, and I killed him. Oh. Here.”

Harry pulled a box out of his discarded jumped pocket and enlarged it before he handed it gently to Theo.

“I thought you might want that.”

Theo was still reeling over Harry casually admitting he had actually killed Theo’s Dad-

Praise Merlin.

-when he opened the box slowly and choked up at its contents.

“Mother,” he sighed quietly at the stacks of photos Harry had grabbed for him. “Where- where did you find these?” Theo only owned one photo of his mother, the rest had been hidden away by his father the day after her funeral.

“Your dads cupboard in the back of his closet,” Harry said. “Figured you’d want them.”

Theo looked up at Harry and was struck by what he’d done. He freed Theo. Theo never had to go back to his father. Never had to feel the sharp sting of being a disappointment along with the equally sharp punishments dealt unfairly from his fathers wand. And in the midst of freeing Theo, Harry thought Theo might want a box of photos of his mother.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Theo said in a choked whisper. “Harry- thank you.”

“It’s fine,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with Theo’s uncharacteristic show of emotions.

Theo nodded and flipped through the photos of his mother while Harry finished gathering his clothes.

“‘M gonna go shower now,” Harry told him. “I stink.”

“Oh,” Theo hastily wiped beneath his eyes and looked up at Harry. “Why do you smell like fire anyway?”

“Got caught in your fuckin’ giant parlor while the house was burning, didn’t I?” Harry scowled. “Nearly burnt up myself if I hadn’t of popped back home.”

“You burnt down the manor?” Theo was sure his eyes were comically wide, but he couldn’t find anything funny about the moment at all.

“Yup,” Harry said easily. “Killed him with a new curse I learned and thought it might be a good chance to try out fiendfire. Which, is actually pretty much impossible to control.”

Theo didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, or cry, so he settled for sitting in the middle of Harry bloody Potter’s bedroom and stared at the floor while Harry took a shower.

Harry was a madman. He just killed a man, Theo’s father, and was only worried about how much he stunk from using fiendfire. Theo wasn’t sure if he was going in to shock in that moment or not but he did know this-

Harry Potter saved him. Freed him. Let him align himself to him. And even if Harry was completely mad- Theo was going to follow him for the rest of their lives.

Chapter Text

Severus,
I wanted to let you know that I have enrolled in multiple summer courses in muggle psychology at the University of London.
Thank you again for this opportunity.
I will update you on my progress.
-R. Lupin

***

“Severus? Are you home?”

Severus quietly cursed at the chime of the floo and the sound of Amelia Bones’ voice carrying through to his office.

“Coming,” he called curtly. He listened carefully and was relieved to hear the shower shut off, indicating Potter had finished washing off proof of the crime he undoubtedly committed early this morning. Severus had been anticipating a floo call the moment he realized Potter was covered in ash.

“Madame Bones, how can I help you?” he asked as he ducked down in front of the floo.

“Severus is Theodore Nott Junior at your home?” Amelia asked curtly.

“He is,” Severus confirmed slowly, wondering why the Head of the DMLE was looking for the quiet, softly spoken, intelligent Slytherin boy currently upstairs with Potter.

Surely Potter would inform me before he brought a fugitive in to our home?

Probably not.

Potter could be heinously inconsiderate at times.

“Thank Merlin,” Amelia sighed, closing her eyes momentarily with apparent relief. “May I come through? I need to speak with Theodore. I’ll also have to bring Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks with me.”

Severus hesitated, unsure on the protocol for allowing aurors to speak with a minor child in his home.

“Is Theodore in trouble?” he asked.

“I hope not,” Amelia said truthfully. “But it is important we speak with him and I think he’d rather us do it at your house than our office.”

“If you must,” Severus said slowly, backing away from the floo to allow entrance.

After only a short moment Amelia, Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks stepped through.

“Can you call for Theodore please?” Amelia asked.

“Theodore,” Severus called up the stairs. “Your presence is being requested in the sitting room.”

Hopefully if Theodore is a current fugitive, he will interpret Severus’ words correctly and make a run for it.

Severus returned to the sitting room and eyed the grim faced aurors carefully.

“Amy! How are you?”

Severus was torn between relief and exasperation to see Potter step in the sitting room, trailed closely by a pale faced and red eyed Theodore.

Which, was rather suspicious.

As was the way Potter was clenching his left fist as he politely shook hands with Shacklebolt and Tonks with his right.

Potter hates law enforcement almost as much as Potter hates hand shakes and other casual physical touches that do not come from Bones, Lovegood, or now Weasley.

“Tonks, I’ve got a funny story to tell you later,” Potter grinned.

Severus was suddenly aware that Potter looked remarkably like Lucius does when he is playing politician.

“Harry, I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. We need to talk with your friend.” Despite her clear dismissal, Amelia smiled warmly at Potter, taking any possible sting out of her words.

“Theo?” Potter asked, faux-surprise coating his voice as he very subtly shifted, guarding Theodore behind his back. “Why?”

“I’m afraid it’s official business,” Shacklebolt said, his narrowed eyes indicating he also did not miss the way Potter moved to hide his friend.

For fucks sake Potter, what have the two of you done?

“Gentlemen, if we could have some privacy?” Amelia said.

“I believe I should stay,” Severus said carefully but firmly. “Theodore is a minor and I would like to remain present for any official conversation as my role of his Head of House when he is at Hogwarts.”

Amelia nodded at Severus with a brief look of approval before turning to Potter.

“Harry, I’ll see you later okay?”

“He can stay,” Theodore blurted out. “If Snape can stay, then so can Harry.”

Potter’s eyes flashed with what seemed to be... smugness? excitement?... Severus could not quite figure it out before he nodded solemnly.

“If you’re sure,” he said, backing up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Theodore.

“Theodore I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Amelia said softly. “Your father was found a few minutes ago, I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Severus was watching Potter’s face carefully and saw as he went carefully guarded at the news before turning a striken (fake) expression to Theodore.

“Oh,” Theodore said blankly. “Are you sure?”

Severus may have no idea what was happening, but he swore in that moment that he would hold acting courses for every student associated with Harry Potter at some point in the future.

“Yes,” Amelia said just as gently. “His body was found in the middle of your manor. Law Enforcement was dispatched this morning to the presence of fiendfire. They weren’t able to retrieve his body until the flames burnt themselves out. I’m so sorry.”

Flames.

Fiendfire.

Fucking Potter.

“Thats... I don’t know what to say...” Theodore said, his voice sounding as blank as his face was.

“I hate to ask you this, but were you here all night?” Amelia asked as Tonks pulled a notepad and a quill from her pocket.

“Yes,” Theodore said quietly. “I’ve been here since we got back from school.”

“Has he?” Shacklebolt asked Severus.

“He has,” Severus confirmed honestly. Theodore had tossed and turned on his sofa all night last night. It was God damned Harry Potter who was absent this morning.

“And Harry? Have you been home as well?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Why are you asking them these questions?” Severus cut in sharply before his ward could answer. “Are they being accused of something?”

“Nott Senior was murdered,” Tonks said bluntly. “He didn’t cast the fiendfire.”

Of course not. Because Harry fucking Potter did.

“And you were able to determine this how?” he asked.

“Because our team was able to determine that Nott Senior’s veins were vanished before the fiendfire was cast,” Shacklebolt said, his dark eyes glued to Potter. “Which means that someone killed him then set the manor aflame.”

And Shacklebolt had apparently already decided who that someone was. Which was quite a leap.

Even if Severus was sure it was true.

“And there was residual magic indicating that someone apparated away from the scene,” Tonks added.

“And you made the jump to blame Nott’s own son and Harry Potter?” Severus scoffed. “That seems hardly believable.”

“The spells indicated that it was a male, aged 11-16, that was last in the home before fiendfire was cast,” Shacklebolt said slowly. “In a home that required a password to get past the main gates.”

Which meant that they immediately guessed Theodore or one of his male acquaintances who was still underage. This was hardly a leap, this was narrowed down specifically.

“That’s horrible,” Potter sighed, still standing beside Theodore. “But Theo wasn’t there and neither was I.”

“This can be cleared up easily,” Amelia said. “Theodore we need to check your wand please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Theodore said dutifully as he handed Shacklebolt his wand.

”Prior Incantato.” Shacklebolt touched his wand to Theodore’s and they all watched as two levitation spells were revealed, followed by two charms, before Shacklebolt ended the spell.

“I believe Flitwick will be more than happy to inform you that those charms were part of the third years final exam,” Severus said curtly. “Shall I call him?” he raised his brow challengingly at Shacklebolt.

“No,” the other man said, handing Theodore back his wand immediately. “Our sincerest apologies Mister Nott.”

“Severus, do we have your permission to cast Priori Incantatem on Harry’s wand?” Amelia asked.

Potter’s left pinky twitched, just slightly, and Severus felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude wash over him at the signal.

“Of course,” he said, maintaining the cold tone of a guardian whose ward was being wrongfully interrogated for murder.

Shacklebolt reached out for Potters wand and Potter looked balefully at him before handing it to Amelia.

”Prior Incantato,” she murmured, touching her wand to Potter’s.

Four mist like shields tied together rose from Potter’s wand, the ghostly figure indicating what his last spell had been.

“A multiplicity shield?” Tonks asked with her pink brows high on her forehead. “There are aurors who can’t do that!”

Potter shrugged and they all watched as his wand puffed out a disarming spell, followed by a levitation spell.

“That’s it?” Tonks cried as the wand quit emitting images. “How can his wand only have three spells recorded on it?”

Severus said nothing, waiting, and hoping for the aurors to draw the incorrect conclusions.

“Harry... you don’t use your wand, do you?” Amelia asked slowly.

God damned son of a bitch, Severus cursed in his mind as Potter blinked at Amelia.

“I don’t,” he said politely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d need to be defended for using wandless magic. Maybe I should call Mister Malfoy?” Potter gave Severus a long and hesitant look, which was quite masterfully done. As was the threat to call his Barrister whose name carried nearly as much weight as Potter’s own did within the Ministry.

“Severus, can you confirm that Harry has been home since the train arrived in London yesterday?” Amelia asked Severus.

“I can,” Severus lied. “Theodore and Harry have both been here since three o’clock yesterday afternoon where they floo’d directly from the train platform.”

“Theodore, do you know anyone who matches our description that would want to hurt you father?”

“No ma’am,” Theodore answered Amelia quietly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Amelia nodded down at him and gently put her hand on her shoulder.

“Do you have family we can call? Someone to stay with?”

“He can stay here,” Potter said immediately. “We don’t mind.”

The larger bedroom.

The extra bed.

The need to go purchase additional furniture.

This was not ‘my life was in danger and I reacted quickly and killed them’, this was premeditated.

Nott Senior was a particularly cruel and devout Death Eater, but Potter plotting his death? This was perhaps one of the cruelest acts Severus has learnt of his ward committing.

“Severus? Would you be willing to sign on as a temporary caretaker for Theodore until we check and see if we can find any family?”

“Of course,” Severus agreed quickly, clearing his mind of Potter’s nonsensical actions. “Theodore is an excellent student and he is welcome to stay as long as he needs.”

“Alright,” Amelia smiled softly at Theodore. “Reach out to me if you need anything at all, okay? And if you think of anything that might help our investigation, get ahold of me. Alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” Theodore said softly.

Severus gave the Amelia and her aurors stiff nods and waited until they were safely through the floo.

“Theodore, upstairs,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “I need to speak with Potter.”

“Go,” Potter nodded towards the stairs and turned to face Severus defiantly.

“Muffliato.” Severus waved his wand and placed his own spell around them as he and Potter glared fiercely at each other.

“Have you lost your god damned mind?” Severus eventually hissed. “You killed a man Potter!”

“Four,” Potter said casually, his arms crossed and his fists tucked beneath them. “Killed four men now, haven’t I?”

Severus stared at Potter, flabbergasted at his devil may care tone and was suddenly reminded of something the Muggle Mind Healer told Severus in an appointment.

‘I do think that Harry confessed to killing two men, not including the one you told me of. If these are true then Harry has actually become Britain’s youngest serial killer.’

For the love of God. How did this become Severus’ life?

“I will give you sixty seconds to tell me why you killed your friends father before I-“

“Before you what?” Potter sneered. “Call me ‘Potter’ some more and turn me in to the Aurors. Go ahead. ‘M sure they won’t mind that you lied to them about me being home all night.”

“Why would you make your friend in to an orphan?” Severus asked, switching tactics quickly as he realized he had no ammunition to threaten the child with.

“Can’t tell you.”

“YOU CAN AND YOU WILL!” Severus yelled, losing himself in the face of Potter’s indifference to a Merlin damned murder investigation.

“Made a vow, and its unbreakable,” Potter drawled arrogantly. “So no, I can’t.”

“Do you not care at all that you took away Theodore’s father?” Severus asked.

“Nope,” Potter popped the ‘p’ sound irritably. “Taking Theo away from his Dad was my whole plan, wasn’t it?”

That... was oddly worded.

Not, ‘took Theo’s father away from Theo’.
But, ‘took Theo away from his father’.

Not as if he were taking something from Theodore, but was saving the boy from something instead.

“You believed that killing Nott saved Theodore in some way?” Severus guessed shrewdly.

Potter quirked one of his dark brows at Severus but remained stubbornly silent.

“Which you cannot confirm because someone, Theodore?, made you vow to not speak of...”

Severus stared hard at Potter as he tried to fit the pieces together. Theodore was already distressed before he was informed of his fathers death, which meant that he was already aware. But he had not known where Potter was this morning, Severus was sure of that. So Potter told him he had killed his father when they went upstairs.

And Theodore had not turned Potter in for it.

“Did Theodore ask you to kill his father?”

“Nope.”

“You offered?”

Potters silence was as much as a confirmation as Severus needed.

“Why would you offer to kill your friends father?” Severus asked slowly.

“Can’t tell you,” Potter enunciated slowly. “Unless you want me to die right now.”

The reasoning was protected by the vow.

“Do you have any idea how foolhardy and reckless that was?” Severus said instead, deciding the reasoning could be deduced later. “Harry they would have arrested you had I not vouched for you.”

“Good thing you did then,” Potter said flippantly. “Cause it took me ages to plan and it would have fucked everything up if they arrested me. Plus I have more plans today and it might have taken a few hours for Malfoy to help me get back out.”

“Go,” Severus said abruptly. “Get out of my sight. Immediately.”

Potter scoffed, apparently insulted by Severus’ exhaustion, and turned on his heel and stomped up the staircase.

Severus himself stormed to his office and slammed the door, hoping the message was clear to not bother him.

After only a few minutes of Severus throwing books and other items off his shelves to curb his anger there was curt knock on his door.

“We’re leaving,” Potter called shortly. “We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Do try and not kill anyone,” Severus drawled coldly towards the doorway.

Potter’s response had been muffled through the door, but Severus was certain it was ‘fuck you’.

Which was rich of the child. Potter killed a man in cold blood this morning and yet it was ‘fuck you’ when Severus warned him to not do so again?

Potter was a menace.

An actual God damned menace to society and Severus had no idea where he had gone so wrong.

He easily overlooked the previous deaths at Potter’s hands. Those men had deserved a much harsher end than Potter himself had dealt them. But this? This was madness.

Even the Dark Lord had supposedly not killed a single person until Myrtle Warren in his sixth year at Hogwarts.

And Potter had a body count of four before he reached fourteen.

When Potter and Theodore returned from their shopping trip-

a fucking shopping trip after being interrogated for murder.

-Severus spent the afternoon avoiding the teens and coldly ignoring Potter when they did interact.

“Are you seriously not talking to me?” Potter demanded at lunch after a silent eight minutes had passed.

“Are you prepared to explain the events of this morning to me?” Severus asked coolly as he kept his eyes indifferently glued to the book he was reading.

“I told you I can’t!” Potter yelled, slamming his fork down. “You’re being an arse!”

“Harry-“

“No Theo, it’s fine. Let’s just take this stuff upstairs, yeah?”

Severus remained silent as the two boys gathered their plates and cups and Potter sneered in his direction before they ascended to Potter’s room where they remained the rest of the day.

Severus maintained a hazy sense of exhaustion, along with a painfully dull constant headache, throughout the rest of his own day. He only remained awake, and on pins and needles, because he expected the DMLE to arrive with an order for Potter’s arrest any moment.

Mavis informed Severus that night that ‘Master Potter and Master Potter’s friend Theo’ were eating dinner in their bedroom. Severus nodded with relief and, roughly ten minutes in to his own peacefully silent meal, he felt his wand heat up, indicating that Potter had taken his medication as scheduled.

Which was something, Severus supposed. He had seen Potter take his medication at dinner last night, and breakfast when he returned this morning. So at least if Potter was determined to be the type of person who plotted and carried out murders, then he would do so with a head clear of the turmoil from his mental illness.

Except... Except Severus was constantly reminded of a small note written in the Mind Healer’s notebook;

‘Due to his indifference to violence or loss of life- H will likely be a prime candidate for a psychopathy diagnosis at 18.’

Severus knew that Manic-Depressive Illness could be treated. Psychopathy could not.

And Severus strongly suspected that the muggle had called it accurately.

The next few days had progressed much as the same. Potter and Theodore made an appearance at breakfast, where Severus was minutely pleased to see Potter quickly swallow down his medication, and then the two of them disappeared upstairs for a couple of hours.

They had eventually stopped by either Severus’ office or the sitting room- wherever Severus had set up for the day and informed him they were leaving to visit their friends. Severus coldly nodded his head in silent acknowledgment.

When they returned, via floo, without fail, Potter would glance at him hopefully, before quickly sneering at Severus’ icy demeanor and stomping up the stairs, followed closely by a quiet Theodore.

Severus was seated in the sitting room one evening, staring in to the fire, wondering if Potter was even redeemable or not, when Remus Lupin’s face suddenly appeared.

“Oh! Merlin! Sorry Severus,” Lupin said with a friendly smile. “I didn’t expect you to be sitting there.”

“What do you want Lupin?” Severus asked, too tired for small talk at the moment.

Lupin looked mildly taken aback before blazing ahead with his question.

“I just wanted to ask you about a thing that I read in one on my classes-“

“Not today Wolf,” Severus interrupted once he gained enough information to deem it currently unimportant. “It has been a long week and I am exhausted. Can we discuss the matter some other time?”

“Of course,” Lupin agreed quickly, a worried frown on his face. “Is everything alright?”

“Theodore’s father was killed earlier this week and Theodore is staying with us for a while,” Severus said baldly, not quite lying about the source of his exhaustion.

“Oh.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the look on Lupin’s face.

“Oh?” he repeated slowly. “Do you know something about it?”

“Of course not,” Lupin said quickly. “It’s just that... well, is Theo alright?”

“He is safe,” Severus said.

“I meant, is he upset?”

Which was a rather queer question to ask.

“Why would Theodore not be upset to find out his father was killed?” Severus asked him.

Theodore had not seemed distressed during the brief times when Severus saw him at lunch or before he left with Potter, but as Severus believed he had somehow helped plot the murder of his father, that was to be expected. Lupin had no reason to suspect this at all though as far as Severus was aware.

“Well... I mean, I don’t want to speak ill of the man or anything, and I don’t have any proof, but...”

“But what?” Severus snapped, fed up with Lupin’s hesitant speech. “Speak Lupin. What do you know?”

“Theo’s boggart is his father,” Lupin said quietly. “I told Albus that I think he’s abusing Theo. Or... was, I suppose. Was abusing Theo.”

That. That was the missing piece to the puzzle.

Theodore told Potter his father was abusive and made Potter vow to not tell anyone. Potter then must have offered to kill the man. And Theodore must have accepted.

“I have to go,” Severus said curtly. “I will speak with you later about your courses.”

“Okay, well tell Theo-“

Severus ended the floo call in the middle of whatever emotion driven drivel Lupin was about to share. He slumped down in his seat and buried his hands in his hair as he berated himself.

He had failed Theodore and Potter both.

His diagnostics on Theodore in the child’s first year had not shown any prior abuse, but that was not rare for children of talented users of dark magic. In those cases Severus simply looked for any behavioral indicators of abuse.

The fact that Theodore had not shown any said quite a bit about the child’s ability to disassociate from the abuse.

Which meant it was likely rather severe.

And Potter...

Severus had spent the entire week treating Potter coldly when they interacted and thinking the worst of his ward.

And Potter had learned that his friend was being abused by his father, was under a vow not to inform anyone, and had simply taken the matter in to his own hands at Theodore’s request.

-A child rapist.
-A Voldemort possessed madman.
-A man with a sword to Potter’s throat.
-And a child abuser.

Potter was not some cold hearted killer, racking up a body count.

He was a traumatized survivor who worked yesterday morning in defense of his friend.

And Severus had treated him terribly for it.

Well.

He’ll just have to make it up to him. Potter and Theodore both.

Severus thought about it as he sat quietly, occasionally hearing floorboards squeaking above his head, when he had the perfect idea for the two grey oriented boys that was stored in his private library in his bedroom right at this moment.

“Mavis, kindly ask Harry and Theodore to join us for dinner,” Severus said when he grabbed his apology gift and entered the kitchen.

“Oh, is Mister Snoop done being mean to my poor Master Potter?” Mavis asked with deceptively wide eyes. “Mavis was thinking maybe Snoop wanted to upset Master some more instead.”

“I am not wanting to upset Harry in any way,” Severus said tightly, unaccustomed to explaining himself to an elf. “Please inform the boys I would like them both to eat in the kitchen tonight.”

Mavis grumbled something no doubt unflattering under his breath before obediently going to fetch the boys.

When the two boys entered the kitchen, both looking around carefully as they settled on to the edge of their seats, Severus attempted to make amends.

“Theodore, it has been remiss of me not to ask after you. How are you?”

Theodore looked startled at Severus’ neutral tone and sent a subtle look Potter’s way before responding just as neutrally.

“I’m a little shook up, but I’m okay. Thank you for asking,” he said in what sounded to be a rehearsed answer.

Severus nodded before breathing deeply and turning his attention to Potter, who appeared to be prepared for anything but neutrality.

“Harry, I apologize.”

“What?” Potter seemed startled by Severus’ apology and his eyes flicked around the room quickly as he laid his palms flat on the table. “What are you apologizing for?” he asked warily.

“I have been incredibly unfair and rude towards you the last two days and for that I apologize.”

Potter squinted at him as he tilted his head in the odd way that Severus begrudgingly finds amusing.

“Even though I can’t tell you what happened, or why?” he asked.

“I should have shown my trust in you that there was a reasonable explanation for your actions and not demanded an answer in order to treat you with the civility that you deserve,” Severus said.

The two of them stared at one another for a few long moments before Potter eventually broke his gaze and shrugged.

“I knew you didn’t trust me,” he muttered. “Even though I tried to tell you that I really can’t tell you what happened.”

Severus glanced towards Theodore who shifted uneasily on his seat before looking back at Potter.

“I do trust you,” Severus insisted. “I made a mistake, and I hope that you can forgive me and we can put it behind us.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Potter asked predictably.

“Will I react badly the next time you come home smelling like fire and are immediately interrogated by the DMLE for murder? Probably,” Severus admitted. “I wish that you had came to me first, as would have been appropriate. Especially as you risked your life, and freedom, again. But that is no excuse for my actions, hence the apology. And since I cannot falsely promise not to react badly in the future, I have instead gotten you a consolation prize in exchange for the truth that I am only human and will make many mistakes when it comes to my own behavior.”

“What consolation prize?” Potter asked, an interested light in his eyes.

Severus smirked as he pulled out the book in his robes and offered it to the boys.

“This is an incredibly old, and rare, book of blood based defensive and offensive spells.”

“Woah,” Theodore gasped, his brown eyes wide as he stared at the book Severus slid towards them. “I-I don’t even think this is legal.”

“It is not, so I would prefer it remain here when we return to the school,” Severus confirmed, watching Potter carefully as the child examined his blatant bribe. Potter flipped through the pages and his eyes widened eagerly as he pointed a page out to Theodore.

“I accept your apology and I will probably forgive you eventually,” Potter said, the edge of his lips curled up in to a small grin.

“Thank you,” Severus said genuinely. He had no idea if Potter truly would forgive him for his actions, but hoped that they would at least put the matter to rest for the summer.

The three of them ate dinner in a much friendlier atmosphere than they had experienced so far this summer. Severus asked about the boys’ summer homework and Potter scowled as Theodore explained his complex studying schedule he was trying to force Potter to follow. Severus even, in an act of pure penance, listened to Potter extensively describe the teams for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

“You’ll see what I mean about Krum’s tactics when we’re there,” Potter eventually said as they finished eating.

“When we are where?” Severus asked with a curious glance towards a heavily sighing Theodore.

“The Quidditch World Cup,” Potter blinked at him. “I’ve got tickets for the Top Box.”

“The Minister of Magic sent Harry twelve tickets to the Top Box,” Theodore said with an exasperated look towards Potter.

“Minister Fudge believes Harry is ‘as good as a son to him’,” Severus said drily, recalling the man’s words as he twisted his bowler hat anxiously in Potter’s hospital room at St Mungo’s.

Which Severus did not believe. What Severus believed was true was that the Minister simply enjoyed being on a first name basis with the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Yeah, he likes me,” Potter smirked. “Even got me a good camping spot for two nights for the new tents Theo and I bought. But Blaise isn’t coming because he said he’s not leaving Spain or the women there until he’s drug kicking and screaming back to school. Draco told us yesterday his family got tickets of their own. And Fred, Ron, and George are going with their family because someone owed their Dad a favor and got them all tickets to the Top Box. Soo, I’ve got five extra tickets. But I already got one for you originally, don’t worry,” Potter said hastily. “I was thinking I’d give one to Susan’s aunt and one to Black, but I dunno what to do with the other three.”

“The other four,” Severus corrected him. “As there is nothing in this world which would make me wish to spend two nights camping with a group of teenagers and watching a Quidditch match. Though I do recommend sending an additional ticket to Lupin, as he does live with your godfather.”

Potter blinked at him in surprised.

“You’re not gonna come? But... I got you your own tent because I figured you wouldn’t want to share with anyone else.

Apparently there was something that could cause Severus to attend a three day Quidditch event.

Guilt.

“You purchased a tent solely for me to use during your recent shopping trip?” Severus asked.

“He did,” Theo said lightly, his brown eyes hardening momentarily.

“Despite my atrocious behavior towards you?” Severus asked Potter.

“I figured you’d get over it quick,” Potter shrugged. “And the tents were selling out fast. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get three of them if it weren’t for the fact I signed an autograph for the shopkeeper.”

“That... that was quite kind of you,” Severus said. “Thank you Harry. I suppose I will suffer through the event in that case.”

“Brill,” Potter grinned at him and Severus felt the knot of guilt in his stomach lessening slightly. “It’ll be great, just wait.”

Severus privately did not believe it would be great. It sounded as if though there would be an entire hoard of loud and excited students seated together in the Top Box, alongside high ranking Ministry officials. It sounded terrible.

But Potter was excited. And he’d bought Severus his own tent despite Severus treating him harshly. So he would go.

Severus was enjoying a nightcap after the boys went to bed that night when Theodore came back downstairs quietly.

“Good,” he said when he spotted Severus in one of the chairs. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“How can I help you?” Severus asked politely, still unaccustomed to having a teenager inside his home that was not Potter.

“I wanted to tell you something and then I won’t bring it up again.” Theodore drew himself to full height and looked Severus straight in the eyes. “What Harry may or may not have done that morning saved my life. If my father knew I had a muggleborn girlfriend then I would be dead,” he said bluntly. “And you were a right git to Harry over it. Do you know what Harry said when we left for Diagon Alley that day? He said, ‘Snape was supposed to say ‘be safe brat’,’ and he looked like a kicked crup all day. Then he bought you that tent specially anyway and even paid extra for it to be black because he said it’s your favorite color. I know you apologized, but I just wanted you to know what all exactly you did wrong.”

Severus was struck silent at Theodore’s impassioned speech.

Severus was a terrible guardian.

But apparently Theodore Nott, who looked much like the man he would grow to be in this moment, was quite the loyal friend.

“I do not know what to say,” Severus said honestly. “I made a terrible mistake and I regret it horribly.”

“I know that,” Theodore said. “But just so you know that Harry looks up to you and respects you more than anyone. Which means that the things you say hurt him worse than what anyone else could say. And I think you’re a good man who made a mistake, but maybe you should remember that for the future.”

Severus nodded absently as Theodore curtly spun on his heel and returned up the stairs.

He picked his glass up and finished it off in one bitter swallow and allowed himself to become immersed in his freshly renewed guilt.

Though, over half a bottle later, as Severus laid in his bed he had an irksome thought.

How was it that Potter killed a man in cold blood and yet Severus had somehow managed to be the bad guy in this scenario?

***

Lupin,
I am pleased to hear that your studies are progressing rapidly. I am hoping to encourage Harry to spend a weekend at your home before his birthday. This would be an excellent time to try and build some rapport with him.
Do try and avoid making your relationship even worse if you are able. I would be displeased if my money towards your new career was wasted because you thoughtlessly caused Harry to curse you.
-S.S.

Chapter Text

Lucius woke up in the early hours of predawn and stared with no small amount of terror at his left forearm.

“Darling, what is it?” his wife murmured from beside him. “I can nearly hear your thoughts whirling.”

“My arm... it... it hurt Cissa.”

Narcissa sat up abruptly at this.

“Lumos,” she said, lighting their room with a large light from her wand. “Show me.”

Lucius dutifully held his arm out to his wife. Narcissa hissed sharply between her teeth at the sight of the mark on his forearm.

“Is it darker?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Lucius said. “It is.”

The two Malfoy’s stared at his arm in silent horror for a few long moments.

“What will you do?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“I cannot break my oath to Potter, I swore my fealty on my magic and life Cissa. I vowed to remain loyal to him regardless of what happens with the Dark Lord.”

“Good,” Narcissa said curtly. “Then we remain loyal to Harry. We chose wrong before, we will not risk our Dragon by attempting to play politician with a madman.”

Lucius absently agreed with her and stroked her silken hair when she laid back down.

The problem that Narcissa refused to acknowledge was that being on Potter’s side had as much potential to be ‘playing politician’ with another madman. Despite the way he charmed his wife and son, they had not seen Potter when he threatened Lucius outside the Hospital Wing the day Lucius pledged himself to the child’s causes. Potter was incredibly strong, powerful, and the prophesied vanquisher of the Dark Lord; which made him a safe bet in Lucius’ opinion, but Potter was mad.

That was a simple fact.

***

“You’ve noticed it surely Malfoy?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Is He coming back?”

“I have noticed,” Lucius said slowly. “I am unsure what it means.”

The other men seated in Avery’s office all shared uneasy looks.

“He’s going to kill us if He returns,” Crabbe said quietly. “We’re dead.”

“He’s going to think we aren’t loyal,” Goyle agreed.

“You’re being quiet Malfoy,” Avery said astutely. “Surely you have an opinion on what we should do.”

“Apologies,” Lucius said as he swirled his glass of bourbon. “I am unsure how we go about proving our loyalty to a Master who has been gone for over a decade now.”

“Maybe you don’t want to,” Avery said, leaning forward with his teeth bared like a shark who smells blood in the water. “I heard that young Draco is close with Harry Potter. Have you found a new Master to serve Lucius?”

Yes.

“Don’t be crass,” Lucius sneered. “Any fool can attest to Potter’s power. Draco does what he must to avoid the same fate as the Lestrange boy.”

Crabbe and Goyle shared a look at the reminder of the shock the men had all felt when they had seen the scar on Lestrange’s face that Harry Potter had left on his first night in Hogwarts.

And a matching one the next year.

Lestrange was a fool. As were these men.

“I think it’s a fluke,” Avery sneered. “The Potter brat is a whelp and would piss himself in fear if he were faced with what a real Wizard could do.”

“Suppose Nott killed himself then?” Goyle grunted.

“There is no proof that Albus Dumbledore’s Golden Boy killed Nott,” Avery snarled.

Which was as correct as it was incorrect. There was no proof. Yet, they were all fully aware of whose wand added ended Nott’s life regardless.

And Avery would meet the same fate if Potter heard him refer to him as ‘Albus Dumbledore’s Golden Boy’. Potter held as much disdain for Dumbledore as he did the Dark Lord. The child refused to bow to anyone. It was a sentiment Lucius could respect greatly, even as he himself would be willing to bow to anyone who could carry his causes further.

He liked to believe he was more practical than Potter in that manner. Though if he wielded power as effortlessly as Potter did, perhaps he would consider differently. But he didn’t. And so Potter was the Master that Lucius would serve in an effort to choose the winning side this time.

At a minimum, he would like to avoid the end that Theodore Nott Senior had found.

It had only taken Lucius a few coins to rub the palms of a few well placed members of law enforcement to learn what they discovered at the ashes of Nott Manor. A vein vaporizing curse, followed by fiendfire, committed by an underaged wizard? Coupled with a news article stating that Theodore Nott Junior now resides with Harry Potter and Severus Snape?

It was no wonder that Harry Potter was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s main suspect.

Harry Potter was Lucius’ main suspect as well.

Lucius had shamelessly suggested that perhaps the DMLE focus on Walden Macnair’s nephew, Benjamin Macnair, with a manufactured cause that young Benjamin held a grudge against Nott Junior for a schoolhouse quarrel. And perhaps Benjamin had likely been seeking vengeance on Nott Junior, and wasn’t it a wonderful coincidence that Macnair only found a dark wizard and not his innocent young Heir?

Macnair had enough Ministry connections of his own that nothing would come of Lucius’ insinuations, and the spotlight would turn away from Potter himself.

And if it earned Lucius some small goodwill with the boy he pledged his loyalty to then all the better for Lucius.

These machinations were what Lucius excelled at. Twisting and turning facts with small suggestions, and a few golden coins, to see his goals achieved.

It was a political minefield, and the slightest misstep would end Lucius’ life, but there were much worse fields to be fighting on.

“Vincent says Potter is a force,” Crabbe grunted. “I don’t know what to tell him to do.”

“I told Gregory to only distance himself from Potter until we know what to do,” Goyle said. “There’s no use making an enemy of the boy until we know more.”

“The Dark Lord will not accept neutrality,” Avery slammed his glass down on his side table. “I have told William to make a show in their house this year. See who stands by Potter’s side when he is taken down from his self-righteous pedestal. And those of us left should be proving our loyalty to the Dark Lord before he returns. The time for playing neutral is over.”

“And how would you have us do such a thing?” Lucius asked carefully, making a mental note to inform Potter and Draco to avoid William Avery this year. “How do you suggest that we show our loyalty to a Master who is not here to witness it?”

“We create a spectacle,” Avery said, his pale eyes glittering dangerously. “Something that can’t be ignored.”

***

“We’re going to be late!” Draco yelled for the tenth time.

“Quiet darling or we won’t go at all,” Narcissa warned him.

Lucius scoffed at the coddling tone his wife took with Draco. Draco could do no wrong in his wife’s eyes. The same could usually be said about Lucius himself, but after a night spent tossing and turning over the occasional slight pains in his left arm, he was in no mood to be ordered around by his Heir.

“You will speak with Severus today?” Narcissa asked as she checked her reflection one last time.

“I will,” Lucius said quickly.

“And you will remember who our loyalties are tied to?” she hummed.

“I am unlikely to forget,” Lucius said tightly. He was marked by one madman and pledged his life and magic to another. It was the very thought that had kept him from resting peacefully since the first line in his mark darkened.

Narcissa turned and stalked close to Lucius, her round grey eyes were narrow and hard as she pulled him closer to her by his robe collar.

“Draco will be killed for ever associating with Harry. You will not risk my sons life by even entertaining the notion of returning to the man’s side if we should be so unlucky to see him rise again. We have chosen our side and we will stick to it. Is that perfectly clear Lucius Abraxas Malfoy?” she hissed.

“Crystal,” Lucius said, his heart racing wildly in the face of his wife’s untamed fury.

“Good.” Narcissa released him and smoothed his collar down before plastering a pleasant smile on her face. “Then let us go see our family shall we?”

Lucius watched with admiration as Narcissa plucked the golden wrapped gift off her vanity and walked gracefully out of their room. Their marriage may have been one of contractual convenience, but Lucius would be a fool to believe he could ever have done better than the beautiful and fierce woman he has called his wife for fifteen years now.

“Harry! Happy Birthday darling!” Narcissa cooed gently as she slowly offered the young man a hug. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” Potter smiled at Narcissa, but Lucius could sense a tightness in his expression. “Snape’s in the kitchen,” he said politely to Lucius.

“Thank you,” Lucius said, quickly making his way to his closest friend and only true adult ally.

“Lucius,” Severus greeted him when Lucius stepped in to his heavily decorated kitchen. “How are you?”

“As well as can be expected,” Lucius shook Severus’ offered hand. “And you? How have you been faring with two teenagers in your home?”

“As well as can be expected,” Severus snorted as he mimicked Lucius’ words back to him. “The boys have created a game out of sneaking their partners in for ‘sleepovers’.”

Lucius chuckled at Severus’ disgruntled tone.

“And who is winning this game?” he asked.

“As I have been forced to have breakfast with Mister Fred Weasley multiple times this summer, I believe Potter is,” Severus said drily.

Lucius laughed more genuinely at that. He was incredibly lucky that Draco had more decorum when it came to experimenting with his teenage desires. He wouldn’t begrudge his child if he brought someone to their manor, as long as it was not one of Arthur Wesley’s spawns.

That, he would quickly put a stop to.

“Please tell me that isn’t a sword or more throwing stars?” Severus sighed upon spotting the gift Lucius carried for Potter.

“Of course not,” Lucius drew himself up and looked at Severus down his nose. “It is a kaiken, enchanted to be dull when wielded by any aside from Potter.”

“I hate you,” Severus groaned. “He’s built a wall of weapons Lucius. A wall of weapons.”

Lucius patted Severus’ shoulder sympathetically. Though privately he saw no issue with Potter having a wall of weapons, Lucius himself had one in his office.

“Do you have time to speak in private?” Lucius asked quietly with a pointed look at Severus’ left arm.

“After,” Severus murmured. “We will speak after.”

Lucius nodded curtly and resigned himself to mingling with the odd mixture of houseguests Severus and Potter were currently hosting.

When Lucius and Severus joined the party in the backyard, Lucius found his wife laughing quietly beside her cousin Sirius Black and his mate, the wolf Remus Lupin.

“All sorted out dear?” Narcissa asked softly as she linked her arm in Lucius’.

“It will be,” he assured her before greeting Black. “Black, Lupin,” he nodded courteously at both men.

“Malfoy,” Black responded coolly. “How are you?”

“I am well, and yourself?”

“Good.” Black’s eyes, so like Narcissa’s, wandered over towards the group of teenagers that Lucius’ son was grouped with. “Harry invited you then?”

“He did,” Narcissa cut in smoothly. “I told him how we are related and I believe he was delighted to discover he had living family.”

Lupin scoffed lightly, which was an interesting reaction.

“Problem Lupin?” Lucius asked.

“Not at all,” Lupin gave him a bland smile before pulling on Black’s hand. “Let’s go find Harry, okay?”

“Excellent Lucius, irritate our allies. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long,” Narcissa said after the two briskly walked away.

“The werewolf is no ally of mine,” Lucius sneered.

“That is where you are wrong, darling,” Narcissa hissed quietly. “Remus Lupin lives with Harry Potter’s godfather. Harry has invited them both to the game next week where you will play nice or risk isolating yourself from the only possible entity that will keep my son alive. Yes?”

Lucius maintained the emotionless mask that he never drops in mixed company, but if he were a lesser man he would have scoffed.

Playing nice with a werewolf. It was both disgraceful and distasteful.

Though later that evening as Lucius watched Potter twirl effortless circles around Sirius Black in a mock-duel, he thought perhaps treating the werewolf with civility was a small price to pay to remain in the powerful young man’s good graces.

“I presume you are experiencing the same signs as myself?” Severus asked Lucius that night after the majority of party guests had left.

“I am,” Lucius said simply, accepting the proffered glass of scotch graciously.

“And so you have come to, what? Seek out my approval to return if the Dark Lord comes calling?” Severus’ tone was casual, but his grip on his wand was tense.

“I have not,” Lucius said slowly. “I came to ask you what you intend to do if it happens.”

“I stand by Potter,” Severus said, taking a long sip of his drink. “As I have always intended to do.”

“You will stand against the Dark Lord publicly by Potter’s side? You will be marked a traitor Severus, He will want your head on a platter.” Lucius could hardly prevent the worry that coated his voice. Severus was Lucius’ closest friend. If there was a man alive who Lucius could drop his pretenses around, it was him.

“You believe I would be welcomed back with open arms?” Severus curled his upper lip. “Be sensible Lucius. The Minister himself declared me to be a spy and the guardian of the Boy-Who-Lived. I am high on a list of targets no matter what I do. I may as well go down fighting.”

“You could flee,” Lucius suggested. “I can give you money Severus. You could flee and we both know you could hide yourself away.”

“And leave Potter? Tsk, come now Lucius. Would you flee and abandon Draco?”

“You will die Severus,” Lucius said harshly. “He will order any who encounter you to kill you. Is it worth that?”

“I would die for Potter, and I will kill for him,” Severus said simply. “So I believe my loyalties have been declared rather clearly. It is now time for you to choose a side and stick with it.”

“How could I choose any side besides Potter with the vow I’ve given him?”

“Precisely,” Severus said. “So what is the problem?”

“The problem is that I’m dead if I betray Potter and dead if I don’t!” Lucius said sharply.

“You think I can’t protect you?”

Lucius rapidly turned around to see Theodore and Potter himself lounging in the doorway. Potter’s face looked amused, but the twirling knife in his hand was an obvious threat.

“Harry, how did you get in here?” Severus asked wearily, as if this were a common occurrence.

Which, considering his ward was none other than Harry Potter, perhaps it was.

“Magic,” Potter said with a bland look. “Thought i heard screaming in here.”

“No you didn’t,” Severus scoffed.

“No,” Potter smiled, “I didn’t. But I did hear everything. So, let’s make a plan, yeah?”

“We are not making a plan,” Severus scoffed. “Go to bed boys.”

“No.” Potter came further in the room, followed by Theodore, and kicked the door shut behind them. “Lucius is mine, isn’t he? And so are you. We need a plan to keep you safe for when Timmy comes back.”

“Is the Dark Lord rising a great concern of yours?” Severus asked sardonically.

Lucius gripped his glass and silently watched the two volley back and forth.

It would be much more entertaining to watch Severus argue with what Lucius believes is the man’s own karma if the topic were not so dire.

“It is when he keeps trying to break in to my head.”

“What?!” Severus’ hand slipped on his own glass at Potter’s blunt confession. “Explain. Immediately and without sparing any detail, please.”

“Timmy keeps trying to break in to my head,” Potter said slowly. Lucius’ nearly grinned at the exasperated look on Severus’ face.

It actually served the man right to have a ward so sarcastic and disobedient. Severus was a menace when Lucius served as his prefect.

“What makes you believe this?” Severus grit out.

“Cause it feels like it did when Dumbledore did it, doesn’t it? So I let him slide in for a minute so I could figure out who was doing it, and I saw a man Timmy called Peter and a giant fuckin’ snake.”

Lucius and Severus both gaped at Potter. Theodore looked unsurprised, Potter had likely already informed him of this unheard of occurrence already.

“You share a mind with the Dark Lord?” Lucius breathed, forgetting his own determination to watch Severus and Potter argue without his input. “Merlin.”

“We have no research on how a survivor of the killing curse is impacted,” Severus said, slipping in to what Lucius deems his Ravenclaw voice. “It may have created a link between the two of you.”

“Well he’s giving me a headache, so let’s make a plan to keep everyone on my side safe and then kill the bastard,” Potter sneered.

“I do not even know how it is possible for him to rise again!” Severus said, his composure slipping in favor of frustration. “Albus swears that he is not dead, yet offers no solutions on how it is possible.”

“You’re gonna find out though, yeah?” Potter asked.

Severus must have looked towards Theodore too rapidly for Lucius to catch, but slow enough that Potter did, because Potter shifted to stand in front of the other boy slightly.

“Theo’s mine too,” Potter said lightly. “He stays.”

“I may be able to earn some semblance of trust with Albus, but it will be difficult when he see’s my allegiance with you instead of him,” Severus explained. “And as he currently believes you are the next Dark Lord, he will not view my allegiance favorably.”

“Dumbledore’s an idiot who thinks everyone will eventually see his side,” Theodore said with a juvenile roll of his eyes. “You just need to talk about how you’re steering Harry to him and he’ll trust you again.”

Potter snarled at the implication, as Lucius knew that he would.

“What about Lucius?” Theodore murmured to Harry, eyeing Lucius from head to foot. “What do we do with him?”

Potter twirled his knife as he studied Lucius calmly.

“Same thing but opposite.” Potter said softly. “Snape sticks to Dumbledore for protection, Malfoy sticks to Timmy and the Death Eaters.”

“Absolutely not,” Lucius said immediately. “If I am discovered they will kill me.”

“And if you don’t do it then I will,” Potter said calmly.

“Harry! You are not killing Lucius!” Severus said sharply. “What is wrong with you?”

“It’s perfect though,” Theodore insisted to Severus. “The Dark Lord would never let you back, you were right, your loyalty to Harry is too well known now. So if he rises, we need someone who can respond when he calls and tell us immediately.”

Lucius looked at the two boys young men in front of him and realized that this was Harry Potter, the leader of the Grey Alliance, and his right hand Lieutenant. They were not children playing games in this moment, they were nearly men plotting for a war.

It was chilling.

“That may be the safest plan for now,” Severus eventually agreed thoughtfully. “I assume the others have already called you about the changes in their marks?”

“They have,” Lucius confirmed. “Avery, Crabbe, and Goyle are determined to remain loyal to the Dark Lord despite acknowledging Potter’s power. They plan to rally the others and make a public demonstration during the World Cup.”

“Brill,” Potter’s eyes lit up. “How many are left? Cause old Nott is gone, and Snape is mine.”

Lucius glanced at Severus at Potter’s declaration of ownership of the man and was surprised to see a pleased look in his friends’ eyes.

“Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, and Karkaroff,” Lucius listed off the only free members of the inner circle who still lived. “Karkaroff will be in attendance as his student is on the Bulgarian team, but he will not face any of the others. His evidence put away too many others.”

“So, five? That’s it?” Potter laughed and Theodore sighed heavily. “Snape and I could kill them in one swoop at the cup. Then Timmy could rise and not have any followers.”

“Those are only the ones who were branded, you idiot child,” Severus snapped at Potter. “You arrogantly believe that marked followers are the only ones who will follow the Dark Lord? Purebloods across the country will happily follow the man with no visible marks to be held.”

“Severus is correct,” Lucius said hastily as Potter looked unconvinced. “Avery will recruit many sympathizers to join him at the cup.”

“You.”

“Excuse me?”

“Avery will recruit people to join you at the cup,” Potter said. “Cause you’ll be with them.”

“They may not accept me,” Lucius said, choosing his words will careful precision. “It is well known amongst them that I allow my Heir to associate with you.”

“I’ll protect Draco, you figure out how to prove you’re worth keeping around.” Potter gave him a lopsided smile that would have been nearly friendly if not for the cold look in his eyes. “I didn’t forget about the diary, did I?” he said softly.

Lucius laid in bed next to Narcissa that night and thought of the future.

“Did you talk to Harry?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“I did.”

“And?” she prompted him.

Lucius sighed, praying to Merlin that Potter would prove to be a man of his word and Lucius’ family would survive whatever calamity was quickly coming their way.

“And it appears as if I am once again joining the Death Eaters.”

Chapter Text

Here’s your ticket to the match. I’ll come get you the day before so we can meet everyone else there and have a wicked camp out.
Hi Hermione!
Theo says hi. Which is stupid because we just saw you yesterday. And also because I’m copying this to send to Neville and Luna.
Hi Neville and Luna!
Hes such a prat. See you soon.
-Harry
and Theo!

***

“Here it is!”

Harry and his rather large group (maybe his invites had gotten a bit out of hand) stopped in front of a really large plot of grass and Harry beamed at how close to the pitch it was.

Fudge was a good bloke.

A terrible Minister, but a good bloke overall.

“How do we set these up mate?”

“With magic stupid,” Susan laughed at Ron’s quizzical expression as he stared at the tents Harry brought.

“Not with magic,” Amelia sighed. “You heard them say we can’t use magic because the groundskeepers are Muggles.”

Harry would have ignored Amelia and just done it anyway, but he was trying to prove a point in front of the witch.

And that point was: no ma’am I did not kill Theodore Nott Senior.

“Muggle way it is,” Harry said cheerfully. “Fred, George, come help me.”

“Yes sir,” Fred saluted him with the goofy smile that never fails to make Harry smile at least a little.

“Here-“ Harry tossed one tent to Snape and then the other to Black and Lupin. “That ones for you guys and Amy, so you don’t have to share with all of us.”

“Abso-freaking-lutely not,” Amelia said in a sarcastic sing-songy voice. “We are not leaving-“ she did a quick head count “-eleven kids unsupervised in a tent alone.”

“Twelve,” Neville corrected her quietly. “Draco’s meeting us here this evening.”

“I’ll stay with them,” Ron’s brother Charlie offered. “Whole reason I’m here, eh?”

Harry did not want Charlie to ‘supervise’ because Harry did not like Charlie.

Charlie was huge. He wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height he made up with muscles. He’d acted perfectly polite when he volunteered to come with Ron, Fred, and George when their mum was worrying about letting them come to the game a day early and staying with Harry instead of their dad, but he also looked like he could kill Harry in one bone crushing squeeze.

With his short red hair, and thick arms, he looked a lot like a muggle Harry saw once who kicked a homeless man until he’d died while Harry watched from behind a dumpster, silently praying that the man wouldn’t see him and kill Harry next.

Susan laughed when she teased Ron that his brother Charlie was ‘fanciable’, but Harry didn’t think so.

Harry definitely preferred Fred. Fred had muscles, he was really fit, but they were thin muscles that didn’t make Harry worry that he would snap and start beating the hell out of Harry if the idea struck him.

Harry backed up beside Theo as Amelia accepted Charlie as ‘reasonable adult supervision’.

“You good?” Theo whispered directly in Harry’s ear.

“Yeah.” Harry gave Theo a look of frank admiration at the way he’d seemed to become intuitively linked to Harry over the summer.

Harry used to wish he had brothers. Then he spent a long time burying that wish because what was the point in wanting something you could never have? But Theo declared himself to be Harry’s brother this summer now that he was an orphan like Harry was, and Harry liked it.

They’d done a lot together so far this summer and, despite Theo’s obsession with reading, and studying in general, Theo was turning out to be a good person to live with. He was quiet, but thoughtful. He didn’t pry in to Harry’s business, but had his back every time Harry needed it.

Plus he lied straight to the Aurors faces when they interrogated them at the beginning of summer.

So Harry didn’t mind living with Theo. And if Theo wanted to consider them brothers? That was fine by him.

Even if Theo living with him meant that Hermione was spending a lot of secret nights when her parents thought she was having a sleepover with Susan.

Harry figured that listening to Hermione and Theo chat about books and muggle poetry in the late hours of the night was absolutely worth it when Snape saw Hermione the next morning. He couldn’t decide which was the funnier reaction- Snape threatening to curse Fred while Mavis served pancakes or Snape turning pale and dragging Theo in to his office for ‘a talk’ when he saw Hermione in Theo’s pajamas the first night she stayed.

Probably the Hermione reaction. Harry had gotten his own ‘talk’ when Snape realized Fred was staying over quite a bit.

~~~

“Harry we need to talk.”

“You said it’s my house,” Harry had immediately pointed out. “No taking it back now because I had a friend over.”

“I am not rescinding your home, brat,” Snape sighed. “We need to talk about... safe sex.”

“Er,” Harry jumped to his feet and looked around Snape’s office quickly. “No thanks.”

“I am afraid that I must insist,” Snape said. “Unless you would rather I write to Molly Weasley and allow her to do it instead?”

“Oh.” Harry quit his search for the best way to make it to the door before Snape could stop him. “You didn’t do that already?”

“I have not.”

“You did before though?” Harry was hesitant to bring up the fight they had over the party Harry went to last school term but Fred had told him his mother sent him a howler because Snape told her they had been ‘involved’.

Harry was absolutely not going to tell Snape that most nights when Fred stayed over they just put up a muffling charm and talked side by side in Harry’s bed. They snogged quite a bit sometimes too, but Harry also learned more about Fred. How he wanted to own his own joke shop when he graduated. How it felt to never really be recognized as his own person. What it was like growing up with so many siblings. How he hated to see people unhappy. And how he always made a joke when he didn’t know what to say in a situation.

“Before I was acting in my capacity as a Professor at Hogwarts. I am obligated to inform parents of any sexual activities I discover their students are engaged in during the school year,” Snape explained.

“And now?” Harry raised a curious brow at the man.

“And now I am a guardian fulfilling the traumatic role of speaking with you about safety during sexual encounters. Which is of particular importance to you because any disease you may contract cannot be easily treated with potions. Now,” Snape clasped his hands in his lap and gave Harry a serious look, “let’s begin with safety during oral sex, shall we?”

And that is how Theo found Harry, an entire hour and half later, curled in to a ball on his bed with words like ‘condoms’ and ‘orgasms’ and ‘genital warts’ floating around his head.

“I know,” Theo said, sitting beside him quietly. “It was horrible, wasn’t it?”

~~~

“C’mon Potter, come help me show these slags how to build a tent, huh?”

Harry shook his head and cleared his mind of Snape’s horrible talk over the summer and smirked at Johnny who had a cigarette dangling in his lips and a rubber mallet in his hands.

“Have you ever built a tent in your life?” he asked curiously.

“Course,” Johnny snorted. “I used to camp out in the backyard every summer, right Hannah?”

“He did,” Hannah Abbott confirmed from her spot on the ground beside Susan and Hermione. “It drove our mum barmy.”

“Alright then.” Harry started handing pieces of their tent to Fred, George, Johnny, and Luna. “Let’s do ours before Black and Snape can figure out theirs, yeah?”

“The race is on Pup,” Black called from his spot cheerfully as him and Lupin tried to figure out their tent.

Snape just scoffed but Harry saw him side-eye Black and start moving a little quicker. Not that it really mattered, because Johnny already had their tent nearly finished.

Johnny was turning out to be a good person to invite.

Theo had been surprised when Harry mailed his last two tickets to Johnny and Hannah, but Susan said her and Hannah were friends, and Fred and Johnny were friends- and Harry already invited everyone he was friends with.

Plus Harry liked Johnny. They’d wrote each other occasionally during the summer and Johnny said he thought Harry was good at Quidditch. Johnny also said he played chaser in his third year, Harry’s first, but quit when he realized how much time it took up. The more they talked, the more Harry thought the older boy was quite a bit like Harry himself was.

Well, if Harry was a heavy smoker with dreams of ‘roughing it across the world’.

But still. Johnny didn’t trust people and he knew what it was like to be alone in the world. Johnny said the only thing stopping him from leaving England the moment he graduated was his parents. He assumed they were dead, but once he was able to use magic unrestricted he’d be able to know for sure. Which Harry understood. Even if Harry’s parents had turned out to be heroes, Harry had still spent ten years thinking they’d left him behind and had looked for them when he was living in the streets.

Harry hadn’t been able to put his finger on it the night they were at the party together, but he could tell that Johnny was somehow different from their peers in the same way that Harry was. He talked, laughed, and cracked jokes with everyone- but he also watched them carefully and didn’t seem to be particularly close to any one person.

And so Harry had decided to strike up conversation with him when he got out of St Mungo’s. Which was already proving to be fruitful.

“Done,” Johnny drawled with a smug look towards Snape and Black. Snape was nearly done with his, which wasn’t surprising since Snape was a half-blood. But Amelia, Black, and Lupin were struggling with theirs still.

Which was pretty par for the course when purebloods were stuck without magic.

Though, Harry actually had no idea what kind of parents Lupin had. Black, Pettigrew, and Harry’s dad were all purebloods though, so he’d always assumed Lupin was as well.

Not that it really mattered to him.

“Can we go inside?” Hermione asked eagerly. “It doesn’t look like it can fit us all!”

“If not then you’re sleeping outside,” Ron joked.

“Ooh, I’ll sleep outside with you Hermione,” Luna offered. “I bet we could see the stars so clearly out here.”

“Lue, we see the stars every astronomy class,” Susan laughed. “Why would you want to see them again?”

Luna just shrugged, but Harry saw a wistful look in her eyes. Luna was pretty in to nature, and she was a damned genius when it came to plants and animals. But Harry hadn’t known that she liked the stars, he made a mental reminder to find her a good telescope for her birthday this winter.

“You coming the light of my life?” Fred laughed as he slung his arm over Harry’s shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname. Fred had spent all summer trying to find a nickname for him ever since they heard Lupin and Black calling each other by soppy nicknames.

“Coming, Freckled Arsehole,” Harry said sweetly, slipping in to Parsletongue for the last bit.

“That was an insult, right?” George asked.

“Course.”

The three of them laughed as they followed the rest of the group in the tent and Harry’s jaw dropped when he saw the inside of the tent.

“Holy. Fuck.”

The tent was deceptively small and simple on the outside, but, just like the shopkeeper had promised, it was huge on the inside. It looked as if they had stepped in to a posh home. There was a sitting room with a mismatch of brightly colored sofa’s paired against darkly painted walls. There was a huge kitchen directly behind it, complete with muggle cooking appliances that the shopkeeper also swore would work despite their magic.

On either side of the sitting room were matching doors. The right led to the smaller bedroom, that was still huge, that had six beds in it and an attached washroom.

“Girls room,” Susan said quickly as she, Hannah, Hermione, and Luna tossed their bags on a bed.

The other room, the ‘boys room’, outrageously had ten beds and two attached washrooms.

“This means nobody needs to share a bed,” Ron said with a Molly-like look at Harry and Fred. Both of whom scoffed.

“Aww, Ronnikins, are you jealous?” George cooed. “I won’t cuddle you, cooties you see? But maybe Neville here would.”

Neville laughed and punched Ron on the arm lightly.

“Not a chance mate, you snore.”

“But Nev, I thought you liked to listen to me snore,” Ron fake pouted while batting his eyelashes at Neville.

Once they’d all finished exploring the ‘tent’, because really it was a bloody house, they went back out and saw that Snape smugly had finished his tent, but Amelia, Lupin, and Black still hadn’t gotten theirs yet.

“I offered to help but they just snarled at me,” Charlie said from a newly formed circle of chairs around a large fire. “Who wants to go get water for tea?”

Harry blinked at him and quickly ducked back in the tent.

“Mavis!!”

Pop!

“Master is being a very bad Master leaving poor Mavis behind while Mavis is not wanting-“

“Okay, okay,” Harry held his hands up and rolled his eyes at Mavis’ rant. Mavis had bloody attachment issues. “You’re here now.”

“Yes Mavis is and Mavis will be staying,” Mavis glared at Harry and shook a long finger in his direction.

“If I apologize will you make tea?” Harry asked him.

Mavis swiped his long hands down the front of his robe and looked as offended as ever.

“Mavis will be making tea and will do it for Master’s apology,” he said sniffily. “How many cups of tea is Master needing?”

Harry poked his head out of the tent and did a quick count.

“Fuck, is sixteen too many?”

He really had gotten a little carried away with his invites.

By late afternoon Harry’s whole group, including Draco who finally arrived, were sitting around the fire finishing off the dinner that Mavis made.

“I need a house elf,” Ron groaned, setting down his second plate of scotch pie.

“No you do not,” Hermione snapped. “And Harry shouldn’t be bossing Mavis around either. Poor guy deserves to be free.”

“Try telling Mavis that,” Harry grumbled. “I kept trying to free him but then he just cries and tells me he’ll try harder.”

Harry looked over at Susan and saw that she was whispering away with Hannah and giggling like mad.

Which he absolutely was not bitter about.

Even if he was the one who invited Hannah, he didn’t know it meant she’d spend the day giggling away with Susan.

“She’s just being friendly, you know you’re her best friend,” Luna said softly from her spot beside Harry.

“Dunno what you mean,” Harry said airily. Luna looked at him and they both know he was lying.

Snape stood up and stretched out before he gave Harry what he thought was a rather unfair look.

“I am going to bed, I hope that you all can behave yourselves tonight?” he said severely.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Fred smiled up at Snape. Which Harry thought was awfully brave considering Snape always looked like he was one word away from cursing Fred.

“Get some sleep, I’ll watch them,” Black said.

Snape looked like he didn’t think Black counted as supervision, but he nodded stiffly and went inside his tent anyway.

“So, what’s the plan?” Black grinned. “We’ve probably got at least ten more minutes before Remus and Amy get back.”

Lupin and Amelia had found some old classmates they were having a chat with a couple campsites over. Black stayed with Harry’s group because they were ‘boring as could be’.

“No plan,” Susan smiled sweetly. “We’re just going to go to bed.”

Charlie scoffed in to his drink. Apparently Susan’s innocent voice was easier to see through than it used to be.

“Well, I’m certainly tired, think I might head to bed,” Johnny said, grinning towards Harry. “See you all in the morning.”

It took until Johnny was inside the tent, and Fred had elbowed Harry lightly, for him to get the game.

“Oh, er, me too,” he said, hastily getting to his feet. “Anyone else?” He glanced around at his friends and tried to subtly make them understand.

“Absolutely-“

“Exhausted,” Fred and George said.

“Go,” Black waved his hand with a grin. “I’ll keep Charlie out here for a bit.”

“An hour,” Charlie said, trying (and failing) to sound stern. Black winked at Harry, which Harry figured was a signal that they had longer than an hour.

Harry gave Black a half-hearted salute and quickly made for the tent, his friends all following behind.

“Be right back,” Fred murmured, running to their room.

“So what’s the real plan?” Neville asked. “I doubt we’re all going to sleep.”

“We aren’t,” Harry grinned. “You guys ever heard of ‘never have I ever’?”

They hadn’t. But when Fred got back with the bottles they’d talked a bloke in Knockturn Alley in to buying for them, Harry had explained the rules he’d learned from some older boys in London when he was younger, and everyone except Neville and Hannah, both of whom said they didn’t want to drink, were ready to play.

And when Charlie Weasley entered the tent two hours later, Harry, who apparently had done quite a bit in his life, was passed out on the sofa.

The next morning Harry sat outside with everyone and glared around darkly as his friends drank down the headache relieving potions that happened to appear in their sitting room before anyone woke up.

“You’d feel better if you took one,” Ron said, noticing Harry’s glare.

“You know he’s allergic,” Draco scowled. “If you try and kill Harry off then Susan’s going to kill you and we’ll never get to see Ireland squash Bulgaria.”

“There are more important reasons to not kill Harry off than a quidditch match,” Hermione said.

“I dunno,” Neville said thoughtfully. “We could actually have a peaceful year Mione.”

“No we wouldn’t,” Theo scoffed. “With the Weasley’s and Susan? I’ll take my chances with Harry, thanks.”

Harry would have rolled his eyes, except he was pretty hungover and didn’t feel like it just then. Instead he amused himself by watching Snape have a miserable breakfast with Amelia, Charlie, Lupin, and Black off a little ways from their group. Black was talking away with Amelia, apparently they had been friends back when he was in training to be a Hit Wizard. Lupin and Charlie looked like they were deep in conversation as well, thought Harry couldn’t imagine what they would be talking about. And Snape looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the moment.

“Help me,” Snape mouthed towards Harry when he caught him staring. Harry smirked and shook his head lightly. Snape had been ‘encouraging Harry to spend time with his godfather’ all summer, now Snape could do it.

Black wasn’t a bad bloke, and Harry rather liked going over to his house sometimes. But Black had ‘an episode’, as Lupin called it, for about a week where he refused to come out of his room or talk to anyone at all and Harry hated it.

He’d begrudgingly had tea with Lupin when he went over there and found out Black was barricaded in his room. Lupin talked a bit about how Black had ‘episodes of depression’. Which sounded like what Harry had before. And he’d thought Black had seemed ridiculous, ignoring everyone and laying in his bed for a whole fuckin’ week, and that made Harry feel uncomfortable, wondering if Snape had thought Harry was ridiculous when he’d done the same thing the summer after his second year.

So he didn’t go back over again until Lupin wrote to him and said Black was out of his room.

“What time does the match start?” Susan asked abruptly, pulling Harry’s attention from watching the adults interact.

“Three,” Ron said, checking his watch. “So we’ve still got a while.”

Some of Harry’s friends split off at that. Ron went with Charlie to go see their family that had set up camp somewhere nearby. And Hermione and Theo disappeared off in the woods to ‘walk around a bit’.

“Think I’ll go for a walk too,” Johnny got up and stretched before looking down at Susan. “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Susan leapt to her feet with a bright smile.

“Ooh I’ll come too,” Hannah offered quickly with a nervous grin aimed towards Harry and Fred.

Johnny scowled at his sister as they walked off, which Harry thought was odd.

“Hannah’s afraid of you,” Luna said, distracting Harry completely from Johnny’s odd reaction.

“What? Why?”

Fred, George, Draco, and Neville all laughed at that until Harry hissed at them. He hated being laughed at.

“Because you’re very scary,” Luna said with her simple honesty that Harry liked. “She still thinks you petrified her friend Justin.”

“Oh yeah.” Harry had actually forgotten about that.

“You’re very terrifying Master Snake,” Fred said. “I bet Hannah wouldn’t have even came if it weren’t for Susan and Johnny.”

“Are you scared of me then?” Harry grinned.

“Terrified,” Fred said solemnly.

The six of them spent a couple hours playing cards until people kept showing up and interrupting their game.

First it was Minister Fudge. Who Harry had to be extra nice to considering he had gotten him the campsite and tickets to the top box. He figured him playing up his hero status for Fudge’s guests he kept bringing over was more than enough repayment to the man.

Not ten minutes after Fudge disappeared for the third time, a man wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black with enormous picture of a wasp splashed across his chest came walking up to their campsite.

“Ah, Madame Bones! How are you?” he smiled over at Amelia but his eyes kept flicking back to Harry.

Which was bloody creepy.

“Ludo,” Amelia said politely, her and Snape getting to their feet and walking over to stand beside the group of teens sprawled across the ground. “I’m excited for the match, I’m sure you are as well?”

“Of course,” ‘Ludo’ bounced on his feet. “And ah-“ Harry stifled a groan as the man pretended to just now notice him. “This must be Harry Potter then?” his round blue eyes flicked up to Harry’s forehead, which was always hilarious to Harry when people did that because that tiny little scar from Timmy wasn’t even visible through his bangs.

“It is, as I am sure you are well aware,” Snape said coolly, moving slightly to stand beside Harry.

“Ludo Bagman,” the man said, offering Harry his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Harry Potter, and I’m sure,” Harry said, adopting Snape’s cool tone while ignoring Bagman’s hand.

Harry played politics with Fudge’s guests because he didn’t want to owe him for the campsite and tickets, he wouldn’t do it for whoever this man was.

“Bagman’s the one who got Dad tickets,” Fred murmured quickly and quietly. “Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Amelia?” Bagman said eagerly turning away from Harry and Snape. Snape nodded down towards Harry before drifting back beside Amelia. “I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.”

“I don’t gamble,” Amelia huffed.

“I do,” Black said brightly, him and Lupin walking over to join the group. “What’re the odds on Ireland winning?”

“You’re not betting our money on Ireland,” Harry scoffed. “Krums on Bulgaria, ain’t he? The man’s brilliant on a broom.”

“Pup you can’t cheer for Bulgaria, we live in Great Britain,” Black said slowly, as if Harry would be convinced by some ‘country pride’ or other nonsense.

“Well Krum offered to give me private lessons before, didn’t he? So I’m cheering for Bulgaria,”
Harry said stubbornly.

“When did Viktor Krum offer you private lessons?” Fred sounded a bit choked up.

“When Karkaroff tried to get me to switch to Durmstrang back in my second year,” Harry shrugged. “Almost did it too, but then I got that book of seeker moves and I figured I’d just teach myself.”

“I don’t care if Krum plays seeker on a broom that moves faster than the snitch itself, I’m not putting money against Ireland,” Black said.

“Fine, but if you lose then you owe me,” Harry warned him.

Black rolled his eyes but he grinned too so Harry figured he wasn’t really annoyed.

“Is he gonna lose?” Harry whispered to Luna.

“I am not asking the nargles to help you gamble,” Luna said in a Hermione-ish voice that caught Harry by surprise.

“Why?” he asked. She’d done it before when they played poker.

“They aren’t answering, I think they’re mad about the alcohol last night.” Luna smiled at Harry in the way that he knew meant she was taking the Mickey out of him.

“You could just say you didn’t wanna tell me,” he grinned once he realized she was teasing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Luna asked innocently. “Now it’ll be a surprise.”

Personally speaking, Harry was not a fan of surprises. But this was his first ever professional quidditch match, so he’d let himself be surprised by the outcome.

Fred and George were whispering too before Fred pulled Harry over.

“Are you gonna be mad at me if I bet on Ireland?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“It’s your money,” Harry shrugged. “Black’s wasting my money too though, isn’t he? Krum’s going to win. ‘M telling you, he’s just as good as I am.”

Fred and George both chuckled and Fred wrapped his arm around Harry and kissed the top of his head affectionately.

“Your humility is one of your many charming traits my Sugar Quill.”

“Get off,” Harry laughed. ”Cockroach Cluster,” he hissed.

“Handsome redhead? Oh that’s sweet,” Fred laughed. “Alright hold on, Oi! Bagman! What are the odds on each team right now?”

Bagman, who had been finishing a deal with Black, looked up happily at the sound of someone else wanting to place a bet.

“Looks like it’s up to 15:17 in Ireland’s favor. I can offer you good odds on them winning by a margin of over 200,” Bagman said, checking a little notepad he had in his pocket.

“I’m telling you guys, Krum’s got it in the bag,” Harry said, to the exasperation of every one else.

“I hear you Harry-Poo,” Fred grinned as he and George quickly pooled and counted out their money. “We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts, that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch,” he winked at Harry. “Oh and we’ll throw in a fake wand.”

Bagman’s face face shone with excitement as he took the wand and coins from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

“Excellent! I haven’t seen one that convincing in years! I’d pay five Galleons for that!”

“It’s worth at least seven,” Draco scoffed.

“Cheers Malfoy,” George smiled at Draco, a bit surprised at his endorsement.

“Alright then, seven galleons,” Bagman said. “Doesn’t matter either way because it’ll never happen boys. I’ll give you excellent odds. Let’s say 30 to 1 then?”

Fred’s eyes lit up as he accepted the betting slip from Bagman and pocketed it.

“Isn’t that all your money for your joke shop?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yeah but if we win it’s nearly 1,400 galleons,” Fred whispered. “Never pass up those kind of odds.”

Bagman had already turned back to Black and Amelia.

“Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.”

Harry sighed and began picking up their abandoned poker game with Neville. With the increase of traffic stopping by to chat with them it seemed like they wouldn’t be finishing the game off today.

“Remind me to never attend another public event with you,” Snape sighed when they were finished cleaning up and he settled beside Harry in a chair.

“Tell me about it,” Harry grumbled.

Bagman, and another man who apparated directly in to their campsite, both kept glancing at Harry as they chatted with Amelia about some missing Ministry worker. Harry’s constant glare kept them from approaching him, but the looks were getting annoying.

Thankfully, Harry’s friends were starting to trickle back in as it got closer to time for the match to start.

“We saw Finnigan,” Susan scowled when she returned with Johnny and Hannah. “He’s covered in green from head to toe.”

“Just another reason to support Bulgaria,” Harry said smugly. Draco was the only one who seemed to agree with him though, everyone else acted like Harry was crazy for not cheering for Ireland.

By the time there was less than an hour until the match started, even Amelia had given up on snapping at people for their blatant displays of Magic.

“This is a muggle area,” she muttered.

“So was the carnival,” Harry grinned.

Amelia made a shushing motion at him and Harry figured that if she was still making jokes then she must not really think he’d had anything to do with Theo’s dads death.

She was wrong, but it meant Harry could breathe a little easier around her.

Salesmen with carts were beginning to pop up every few feet as their large group made their way to the stands.

“A green scarf to go with your eyes?” One of them said with a leering smile to Hermione.

“Green also goes with the killing curse,” Theo told him darkly. “Get lost.”

Harry bought a pair of omnioculars for himself, Luna, and Fred. He’d offered a pair to George too, since they had just bet all their money, but George turned him down. Harry figured he probably didn’t want to owe Harry so he told him that it was Black’s money they were wasting.

“Ta then,” George grinned, accepting the omnioculars Harry tossed him.

Susan, Draco, Ron, and Neville seemed to have a blast jumping from cart to cart and buying little souvenirs.

They were all laughing at Ron and Neville, who were wearing ridiculously huge dancing shamrock hats, when a deep booming gong echoed through the light patch of woods they were standing in.

“Match is starting soon,” Fred said, politely ignoring the fact that Harry had grabbed his new knife he got from the Malfoys and had it drawn the moment he heard the gong. “Ready Daaaarling?” he drawled out slowly with a huge smile.

Harry shrugged and moved his knife to the arm holster that Draco had given him for his wrist since ‘you don’t use your bloody wand anyway’.

“Let’s do it.”

Because Harry’s campsite was right beside the stadium, they hardly had to walk far before reaching the gigantic pitch.

“Phew,” Neville whistled, his eyes wide. “That’s huge!”

“It seats over a hundred thousand,” Black said excitedly. “It’s way bigger than the one we saw back in ‘79, isn’t it Moony?”

“Way bigger,” Lupin agreed with an equally excited look in his eyes.

“Wasn’t ‘79 the year that they had to bring in the reserve beater because the one on the Welsh team got killed?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah, Filkins I think his name was.”

Harry listened as Black and Amelia went back and forth on other matches they’ve seen with injuries and privately hoped someone got killed at this match. As long as it wasn’t Krum.

That would certainly be exciting for his first match.

Harry’s friends snickered as they approached the entrance to the stadium and Fudge stopped them.

“He’s with us,” he said loudly, Mister Malfoy standing at his side. “Come along Harry, and...” he glanced around at their group. “And Harry’s friends,” he said rather lamely. “We’re up top.”

“How long has he been waiting for Potter?” Snape murmured softly to Malfoy.

“Thirty eight minutes,” Malfoy smirked. “The Bulgarian Minister is already in the Top Box and Fudge swore he knew Harry Potter personally.”

“Lue, save me,” Harry moaned to Luna. He absolutely was not going to spend the entire match being shown off by Fudge. He’d bloody well paid the man back already by now.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan,” Luna smiled and grasped his hand tightly as they ascended a huge set of stairs up to the Top Box.

Their group kept climbing, until at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goalposts. About thirty purple-and-gold chairs stood in two rows here. Some of the seats were already filled with Cissa, a few ministry people, a small little House-Elf, and Ron’s family, all of whom greeted their group cheerfully.

Harry resisted the urge to hiss at Ginny when she made what Ron called ‘moon eyes’ at him.

Fred apparently had no resistance to kissing Harry square on the lips right in front of her though.

Fred was a bit petty and vindictive, which was something else Harry liked quite a bit about him.

Harry then begrudgingly let Fudge pull him to the back row where a dark skinned man with twinkling green eyes sat. Fudge introduced Harry (‘Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived you know!’) and the other man started speaking rapidly in a language Harry couldn’t understand.

“Ooh, is that Glidenbash?” Luna asked brightly. “Here-“ and the Luna was babbling away in a nonsensical language that made the green eyed man laugh.

“Oh thank God for you Lue,” Harry sighed, following her to seats in the front row after Fudge quickly brought the Malfoy’s and Snape in to his conversation and Harry got a chance to escape.

“I’m the best,” Luna said with a sweet smile.

“Scoot down,” Susan shoved at Johnny and Hannah who were seated on her left to leave two spots closest to the exit for Harry and Luna.

“You ready pup?” Black called from the far end of the front row.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned and looked around quickly and saw everyone was settling in their seats. He checked and saw that he had the second closest seat to the exit, Luna having the closest so he could push her out if he needed to, but having his back to this many people was putting him on edge.

Any one of the people behind him could attack him.

Harry barely knew the older Weasley boys.

And Bagman was exactly two rows behind Harry, and Harry hadn’t liked his shifty eyes at all when they met.

He could get to the exit faster than anyone, aside from Luna and Theo who was directly beside Luna on the other side of the dividing walkway, but what good was that if someone cursed him from behind?

He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to suffocate before anyone even had a chance to kill him.

Harry hardly noticed that his breaths were coming out shorter and faster than normal until Luna slowly rubbed his arm.

“Breathe,” Luna murmured. “Breathe and hold on.”

Harry couldn’t move to keep a hold of her. If Luna left her spot, where she was safe, he couldn’t protect her. Susan grasped his left hand firmly and rubbed circles on the back of it while Luna got up and walked away, singing loudly and drawing all of the eyes in the Box towards her.

Smell the flowers, he thought, inhaling deeply and willing the white spots in his vision to go away.

He couldn’t fight if he couldn’t see.

Blow out the candles. Harry twitched in the middle of his exhale when Luna returned to her seat and grabbed his right hand.

“Look,” she whispered.

Harry turned his head towards her and she tilted her chin behind her slightly to...

Snape.

Snape who was now sitting directly behind Harry, in the row between him and Bagman, and had his wand out.

“If a single person so much as moves in your direction, I will levitate their body to the middle of the pitch and drop them,” Snape leaned forward and whispered directly in Harry’s ear.

Harry felt the tightness in his chest releasing its grip on him slightly when he remembered Snape’s words to Malfoy on his birthday.

‘I would die for Potter, and I will kill for him.’

If Snape said he would kill anyone who tried to curse Harry with his back turned, then he would.

Harry fully turned in his seat to stare at Snape’s calm dark eyes and tried to match his breathing to Snape’s slow and even ones.

“Better?” Susan said softly from Harry’s left side once he felt like he could breathe properly again and turned back to the pitch.

Harry nodded and glanced around, his face hot at the thought of anyone seeing him freak out over nothing.

Stupid, he scolded himself.

“Nobody noticed and you aren’t stupid,” Luna said quietly. “Knock it off.”

“You sound like Susan when you say that,” Harry pointed out with a weak attempt at a grin. He knew that Luna couldn’t actually read his mind, even if she was a Legilimens (which he was pretty sure she wasn’t), Harry was a damn good Occlumens thanks to Snape. Which meant that Luna was just proving once again how well she knew him.

“You mean she sounds brilliant and wonderful?” Susan asked with a sharp grin that meant there was really only one answer she wanted.

“Course,” Harry lied. He meant Luna sounded a bit threatening like Susan, but they were both brilliant and wonderful too he supposed.

Harry actually felt like a bit of a prat now. He’d been worried Susan would replace him with Hannah. Which was probably stupid to think. Susan had stuck by him for three years now. She’d seen him when he killed a troll. When he won his Quidditch matches. And was by his side when he was freaking out.

Hannah couldn’t take Susan from him if she hasn’t left him yet.

“I talk to my brother for five minutes and I’ve been replaced!” Fred cried with a theatric stagger once he walked up beside Luna and spotted Harry’s hands clasped in Luna and Susan’s. “How could you Dollface?”

“You’re embarrassing,” Harry sighed, even though he felt his face get hot once again at Fred’s ridiculous determination to find a ‘nickname’ for him.

“Suppose it’s me and you then,” Fred smiled cheekily at Snape and climbed around his legs to sit behind Susan.

“Please refrain from speaking to me Weasley,” Snape sighed in a put upon way.

“We were Harry’s friends first,” Susan turned her head to say to Fred.

“Aah, but I bet you don’t know what his toothpaste tastes like in the morning,” Fred said quietly.

“Cease speaking immediately,” Snape grit out. “Unless you would like your father to watch me break your fool neck.”

Fred winked at Harry but sat back as Bagman’s voice boomed through the entire stadium:

“Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

Harry grit his teeth as the entire stadium burst in to applause, screaming and shouting erupting from every bloody person there. He felt a little less irritated when he glanced over and saw Theo looked as unsettled as he did.

“I’m never going to another match unless you’re the one playing,” he called across the dividing pathway to Harry once he caught his eyes.

“Same,” Harry agreed.

His resolve to never come to another match again was strengthened when a hundred women flooded the field and began dancing. Harry peered through his omnioculars when Bagman announced them as Bulgaria’s mascot.

Harry glanced around and saw that most of the guys in the Box, except for Black, Lupin, Malfoy, Fred, Theo, and Snape were all acting ridiculous watching and listening to the women dance. Cissa actually snagged the back of Ron’s robes and shoved him back down in his seat in front of her beside Draco when he made to stand up with a goofy smile on his face.

“Veela,” Snape explained from behind him.

Which explained why the guys were acting stupid, but not the way Bagman introduced them.

“They’re not fuckin’ mascots,” Harry craned his neck around Snape to glare at Bagman. “Jesus Christ. What is wrong with Wixen?!”

Harry’s indignation carried over when the Leprechauns dumping buckets of fake gold all over the stands, were introduced as the Ireland teams mascots as well.

“Maybe cheerleaders is a better term,” Hermione called from her spot beside Theo once she heard Harry’s complaints. “In the Muggle world mascots are usually animals, and cheerleaders are the ones who rally the crowd for their teams.”

“Exactly,” Harry nodded at her appreciatively. “They should be called cheerleaders.”

“We’ll write a formal request to Bagman’s department when we get back,” Susan said.

Harry, Susan, and Hermione’s annoyance at the way the cheerleaders were termed mascots disappeared when the teams were finally announced and entered the pitch.

“There’s Krum Harry!” Ron shouted excitedly when the Bulgarian teams did a lap around the field.

Harry knew he was a good Quidditch player, a fuckin’ great one really, but there was a reason these teams were in the final World Cup match.

They were brilliant.

Harry had never seen Quidditch played like this before. The Chasers on both teams seemed to know exactly where their teammates were and threw the Quaffle harder and further than Harry had ever seen anyone at Hogwarts do. And he grinned at Fred when only fifteen minutes in to the game one of the Bulgarian beaters hit a Bludger so hard at the Ireland seeker that Ireland called for a timeout to fix his broken arm.

“That’s the moment you became obsessed with me,” Fred sighed dramatically. “And now it’s happily ever after.”

“Think you became obsessed with me,” he pointed out. “Probably broke my arm just to get my attention.”

“Ooh, that’s an excellent cover story,” Fred said brightly. “Let’s use that!”

Harry laughed and turned his omnioculars back to the skies so he could try and watch the players once the match resumed.

He mostly alternated between watching the Ireland chasers, who he could begrudgingly admit were quite good, and Krum who he knew would catch the snitch before the Ireland seeker.

“THIRTY-ZERO IRELAND!” Bagman yelled when Ireland scored yet again. “And- oh! They’ve spotted it!”

One hundred thousand wixen gasped as the two Seekers plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harry followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was —

“They’re going to crash!” Harry heard Lupin yelp.

“No they aren’t!” Black called, his voice as excited as Harry had ever heard it before.

Black was half right — at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. The Ireland seeker, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

“That’s what you do, right?” Luna asked him as Mediwizards examined the Ireland seeker for the second time that match.

“Yup, learned it from that book, didnt I? It’s called a feint.”

Luna hummed thoughtfully and went back to...

“Lue are you just watching the clouds?” Harry asked amused.

“I am, they’re very pretty today,” Luna said airily.

Harry chuckled but didn’t say any more about it as the match resumed again, faster and fiercer than it had been before.

After only fifteen more minutes, Ireland had scored over ten more goals and they were ahead one hundred and thirty to ten.

Which was mad.

“Krum can’t win alone you prats,” Harry shouted towards the chasers who, sadly, weren’t able to hear him.

“You’re a fanatic,” Susan giggled. “Is it because he’s faaaaamous?”

“Nooo,” Harry said slowly. “It’s because he personally offered to practice with me, yeah? I told you that. Wrote me a letter and everything.”

“Fanatic,” Susan whispered one last time with a teasing sparkle in her real eyes.

Harry actually had no idea what was wrong with cheering for a bloke who was already so good at Quidditch that he was on the Bulgarian team while he was still a student. Anyone who offered something brilliant like private quidditch lessons for free was alright in Harry’s book.

“THERE THEY GO!” Neville yelled down between Hermione and Lupin. “LOOK!!”

Harry jumped to his feet to get a better view of the two seekers, neck in neck, speeding after the snitch in steep dives toward the ground.

“C’mon... c’mon... c’mon....”

“They’re going to crash!” shrieked Hermione.

“They’re not!” roared Ron.

“Lynch is!” yelled George.

And he was right — for the second time, the Ireland seeker hit the ground with tremendous force.

“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” bellowed Charlie, now standing up against the rail as well. Though plenty far enough away from Harry that he took minimal notice of the physically imposing man.

“He’s got it — Krum’s got it — it’s all over!” shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from an earlier broken nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the fans in the stadium, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

“YESSS!!!” Fred jumped to his feet and leapt over Harry’s empty seat to pull him in to a fierce hug by the railing. “YOU ARE A GENIUS HARRY POTTER!”

Harry laughed and let Fred jump up and down for a moment while the rest of the occupants in the Top Box cheered for Ireland’s win.

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!” roared Bagman.

Harry’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge.

“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one Bagman called out the names of the Bulgarian players, and Harry wasn’t surprised when Krum’s name got the loudest cheers. Before the Bulgarian team marched back out of the Top Box Harry whistled at Krum.

“You were fuckin’ fantastic!” he called. “Ending the match like that? Legend!”

Krum turned a bemused expression towards Harry as he stopped beside the exit.

“You look familiar,” he said in a distinctly rough and accented voice. “Do I know you?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry nodded at him. “You wrote me a letter once.”

“The Seeker?” Krum asked.

“Yup, Quidditch Team Captain too,” Harry said proudly. “Those feints were brill. Couldn’t win by yourself though, could you?”

“I could not,” Krum said slowly, giving Harry a peculiar look. “Ve should fly together this year.”

“‘Kay,” Harry agreed with a shrug. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find time to go flying with Krum in Bulgaria, but assumed they’d just figure it out later. “Good match mate.”

“Thank you,” Krum said with one last long look, his thick brows drawn down over his eyes.

“Harry... light of my life... my northern star... did you just set up a day to go flying with Viktor bloody Krum?” Fred asked in a choked voice.

“You just heard I did,” Harry said, not noticing the surprised silence of his entire group.

“Boy Who Lived strikes again,” Theo sighed.

“Nah, just Harry,” Susan laughed.

“They’ll be talking about this one for years,” Bagman said hoarsely after the Ireland team accepted the Cup and began doing victory laps to the cheering crowd. “A really unexpected twist... shame it couldn’t have lasted longer... Ah yes... yes, I owe you... how much?”

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the rows of seats and were standing in front of Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

It wasn’t until their group was nearly back to the campsite that Harry noticed Neville was patting his pockets down frantically.

“What’s up Nev?” he called over to him.

“My wand! I must have dropped it!” Neville moaned. “My Gran is going to kill me! It was my dads!”

“She is not going to kill you,” Harry snarled, furious at the very thought of Neville’s judgmental old grandma touching a single hair on his head. “We’ll replace it when we get home tomorrow, yeah? She won’t even notice before you leave for Hogwarts.”

“But it was my dads,” Neville said, his lower lip quivering just enough that Harry noticed it.

“That means the new one will work even better for you,” Ron’s brother Bill said kindly. He’d offered to walk with their group back to the campsite and apparently decided to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Wands are supposed to choose the Wizard after all. I bet that one didn’t work well for you at all, did it?”

“Not really,” Neville mumbled.

“See?” Fred jumped in optimistically. “That means you might be as strong as Harry here and not even know it because your wand wasn’t meant for you.”

Between Fred, Bill, and Harry, by the time they’d reached the tents Neville looked practically cheerful about his missing wand.

“Black, Lupin, Charles, William, would you care for a nightcap?” Snape asked tightly.

Harry snickered at the shocked faces the other four men made at Snape’s never before heard offer of socializing. Harry knew Snape was only asking so that he could keep a group of ‘wizards who will not be expelled or arrested for defending a group of children’ in case the Death Eaters did rally tonight. But the looks on the men’s faces were really just too rich.

“Uh, sure,” Lupin said, a curious look on his face.

“Excellent, we’ll give the children a moment to settle then use their sitting room shall we? It has the most room,” Snape said, lying through his teeth.

Snape talked a lot about hating kids for a bloke who was willing to suffer through spending time with guys he didn’t like just to defend a bunch of kids from danger.

Harry privately thought Snape was actually the bravest man he’s ever met.

“And the children will settle in their own beds,” Snape said severely.

He was still a bastard though. Even if he was brave.

Harry blinked innocently at Snape before pulling Fred in to their room and immediately laying by his side.

Snape could piss off. Fred was almost as good as Luna at helping Harry sleep more than a few hours at a time.

Even if he snored quite a bit more than Luna did.

The two of them laid in Fred’s bed and talked for a while. Fred whispered about his plans for the joke shop he thought he’d have a real chance at opening now that they’d earned all that money from Bagman. And Harry hesitantly admitted he thought he might want to play professional quidditch for a couple of years after Hogwarts.

“Can’t run for Minister until at least 2012, can I?” he said softly, worried Fred would mock him for his goals. “‘M not old enough until 2010, and then 2012 is an election year. So maybe... maybe I could fly professionally for a few years first.”

“If Viktor Krum could be drafted while he’s still a student, then you can too Darlin’,” Fred said seriously. “You’re a brilliant flier.”

Harry slowly shifted his head over to Fred’s shoulder and let himself doze as he thought about that.

At some point his thoughts must have turned in to a dream because he was flying around a pitch, waving madly at the stands that were filled with his whole group from today while they smiled up at him.

“And I give you.... POTTER!”

“POTTER!”

Harry sat upright and jerked his knife out from beneath Fred’s pillow.

“Do not stab me you insolent brat,” Snape said quickly and quietly. “Get your friends and have Mavis take you all to our home, go now.”

“Why?” Fred groaned from beside him.

Snape gave Harry a meaningful look and Harry immediately knew why.

“It is starting,” Snape said. “Go.”

Snape dashed out of the room, his wand brandished in front of him and Harry knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He wasn’t going home.

He was going to stay here and try and kill some Death Eaters.

Chapter Text

“It’s easy,” Harry told everyone while Fred handed out tall glasses of firewhisky. “We take turns saying something we’ve never done. If you’ve done the thing the person says then you take a drink. Yeah?”

Most of the group nodded, and Fred grinned when he saw the girlfriend of Harry’s newly christened brother grimace at the smell of her drink.

“Tastes better than it smells,” he lied to her with a wink. Theo scowled at him, probably for the wink, but if the bloke hadn’t realized by now that Fred was absolutely not interested in birds then there wasn’t much he could do to convince him otherwise.

Once he was done handing out cups, Fred saw that Harry was sitting between Johnny Abbott and his blonde fairy like friend that he calls Lue. Fred debated briefly whether to sit beside Lue or Johnny to get to Harry.

On the one hand, Harry and Lue spent a lot of time laying on one another and Ron told him that Lue frequently slept in Harry’s dorm bed, which Fred didn’t really like. But she was one of Harry’s best friends and he wasn’t going to be a jealous prat.

Johnny on the other hand, he actually didn’t really want near Harry at all. Fred and Johnny were friends by the pure happy circumstances that they spent a lot of time in detention together. But Johnny ran with a rougher crowd at Hogwarts. And even if he didn’t, there was something a bit off about the Hufflepuff boy that Fred couldn’t pinpoint, but felt a lot like danger. Which he liked feeling from Harry, not from the Hufflepuff boy with the cold eyes.

So Johnny it was.

“Scoot over,” Fred said, easily sliding between Johnny and Harry and throwing his arm over Harry’s shoulder.

Slowly though, because sometimes he did it too quickly and Harry would flinch which made Fred feel both sad and a little murderous at the possible reasoning behind the flinch.

“Who goes first?” Malfoy asked.

“I’ll go,” Lue offered. “I’ve never drank alcohol before.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘never have I ever drank alcohol,’” Susan laughed.

“Oh, okay. Never have I ever drank alcohol before,” Lue said.

Harry, Fred, George, Johnny, Susan, Malfoy, and surprisingly Hermione all took a drink.

“It was wine in France,” Hermione said when Theo gave her a surprised look.

“We’ve failed as brothers Fred,” George groaned. “How has Ronnie never drank before?”

“Because you guys never invite me to anything fun,” Ron grumbled.

“That’s because we don’t like you,” Fred grinned.

“Quit,” Harry said, giving him a ‘I will curse you if you keep insulting my friend’ kind of look.

Fred actually sometimes picked on Ron on purpose just to get that look from Harry. He thought it was sweet how Harry always seemed ready to rip someone apart for picking on his friends.

Not that he doubted Harry could rip him apart, because Harry bloody well could, but just that it was cute when he was being protective of them. It was like Harry was the big brother of the group.

“My turn,” Susan cut in brightly beside Lue. “Never have I ever...” she eyed Johnny with what Fred thought was more than just a bit of interest. “Smoked pot before.”

Johnny winked at Susan as he took a deep drink. As did Harry, Fred, and George.

George, who was sitting beside Susan, looked around thoughtfully.

“Never have I ever... Snogged a bloke in public.” George grinned at Fred, clearly trying to find something Fred has done that George hasn’t.

Harry, Fred, and Hermione all drank, which was expected.

What wasn’t expected, judging from Harry’s surprised expression, was when Susan did.

“Who’d you snog then?” Ron asked her.

“Draco,” she said easily. “Right in the middle of Puddifoots, didn’t I?”

“I thought it wasn’t a real date?” Harry asked her, everyone ignoring Malfoy’s blush.

“We thought we’d kiss to see if we liked it,” she said.

“Did you?” Hermione asked her.

“No,” Draco said quickly. “It was weird. Like kissing my sister if I had one.”

Susan shuddered dramatically. Fred winced in sympathy, that sounded disgusting.

Almost as disgusting as the sappy looks his own sister gave Harry every time he came over. There was a reason that Fred spent most of his time at Harry’s. Besides the fact that Snape seemed to be pretty relaxed about what Harry did, there was the added bonus of not thinking about jinxing Ginny every time she looked at Harry.

Plus, ever since Charlie came home, Harry had been weird when he was at Fred’s house. Nervous and a bit twitchier than usual. Fred had hoped that Charlie coming along with them today would ease Harry’s worries since Charlie was about as threatening as a kneazle kitten, but after seeing Harry edge warily around him when they ate dinner earlier, he thinks maybe he should have asked Bill to come instead.

“Your turn Ronnikins,” George ruffled their brothers hair.

Ron shoved George off him, clearly unappreciative of his brotherly love, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Never have I ever stayed up all night reading.”

“Ron’s never stayed up for over an hour reading,” Fred whispered to Harry, who rolled his eyes before he surprisingly took a drink.

Fred wasn’t surprised Harry read, Harry was a bloody genius. But he expected swots like Hermione and Theo to stay up all night studying, not Harry.

“Law books?” Susan asked Harry.

“Transfiguration,” he shrugged. “I was trying to turn in to an owl, wasn’t I?”

Nobody, except for Johnny who gave Harry a weird look, seemed surprised by Harry’s confession. Harry was a bit barmy and said odd stuff that he usually refused to explain. It was one of the many reasons that Fred was absolutely crazy about him.

Sometimes, late at night, Harry quietly explain some stuff to Fred, like about how Lupin had embarrassed him in front of his classmates when Harry’s boggart was exposed (Harry didn’t tell him what his boggart was, but Fred had heard from Finnigan that it was Snape, which made no sense to Fred since Harry seemed to like Snape quite a bit) but Harry said he quickly tried to embarrass Lupin back by telling everyone he was a werewolf. Fred always listened quietly and let Harry slowly put his head on his chest after he shared little things like that.

Despite the cocky and confident mask that Fred saw right through, Harry always seemed ready for someone to start laughing at him, or even to hurt him, when he talked about himself. Fred could sympathize with thinking people would make fun of you for no good reason, it was one of the many reasons why he liked to make people laugh with his jokes and pranks- nobody was laughing at the poor kid from the big family that nobody could remember his name because they were laughing with him instead.

Fred didn’t understand why Harry always thought anyone touching him was about to cause him pain, but he was starting to put together some pieces that made a portrait he didn’t quite like.

But when Harry trusted Fred not to laugh at him, and shared his touch and his thoughts? It made Fred feel on top of the world, like he was flying.

“Your turn Draco,” Lue said, shifting around so she could lay her head on Harry’s shoulder, which displaced Fred’s arm and pulled his attention back to the game.

Fred resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Lue and settled for wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist instead of his shoulder. He’d nudged Harry as he did it, giving him a silent look for ‘is this okay?’ Harry turned and looked at his raised brow and nodded slightly. Which eased the jealousy that Fred had been feeling towards Lue just then.

Harry might let her use him as a pillow, but he let Fred touch him too. And that meant something, Fred was sure of it.

“Never have I ever crashed my broom before,” Malloy bragged, taking his turn.

“Git,” Harry growled, taking another drink.

“You guys are gonna kill poor Harry over there,” George laughed after taking his own drink.

“‘M fine,” Harry waved his hand and leaned further in to Fred’s side. Fred looked down at Harry’s messy black hair and squeezed his waist tightly for a brief moment and smiled like a lunatic when Harry hesitantly put his own arm around Fred and squeezed back for a split second.

“Your turn love,” Theo said to Hermione, which set off a lot of catcalls and jokes.

Fred personally couldn’t see the draw for Theo or Hermione. Theo had a bit of fire, him and Fred had gotten in to a couple friendly arguments over the summer so far. And Hermione was a bit of a rebel, and brave too to face Snape in Theo’s pajamas and chat about potions over breakfast, but overall they were both boring. Safe. Predictable.

Nothing at all like Harry.

“Never have I ever slept outside before tonight,” Hermione said.

Johnny, Ron (who Fred and George had once locked outside all night once for a prank), Lue, and Harry all took a drink.

“Posh prats,” Harry laughed, already sounding pretty tipsy. “Tents shouldn’t even count.”

Which was as interesting a statement as it was disturbing. Fred added it to his mental list of ‘Stuff to Ask Harry About When He’s in a Chatty Mood’.

So far there were over a dozen questions on this list. Including why he doesn’t drink potions (Fred did not accept his story of being allergic because that was bullocks), why slept with a knife under his pillow, and why his back had felt like it had been torn to pieces the night Fred felt it back in February. Harry had been slow to letting Fred touch his bare torso ever since then, and it brought back up those slightly murderous feelings Fred sometimes had when Harry flinched at contact.

“C’mon little Theo, it’s your turn,” George grinned at Theo. “Let’s hear what you haven’t done before.”

“Never have I ever been in a muggle fight before,” Theo said after thinking for a long minute.

“What’s the difference between a wizard fight and muggle?” Malfoy asked.

“Muggle means you didn’t rely on your wand,” Johnny laughed as he took a drink.

“Cheers then,” Harry took a drink and let out a loud laugh. “Fuck. I think ‘m already drunk.”

“Why would you fight someone without magic?” Theo asked Harry with an exasperated look. “You don’t even need to use your wand.”

“Used to fight all the time before I came to Hogwarts,” Harry said, pride dripping from every word. “Look-“ Harry rolled up his pant leg and Fred barely held back a hiss at a long scar on the back of his lower leg. “Muggle got me right in the leg with a knife, didn’t he?”

“Did you kill him?” Susan asked, her eyes hard as she looked at Harry’s scar.

“Nope, but I got his knife,” Harry laughed again. Which was a mad reaction because Fred, for once, did not feel like laughing.

“Before Hogwarts? So you weren’t even eleven yet?” Malfoy asked, his grey eyes were wide. “Merlin Harry. Why would someone stab a kid in the leg?”

“Johnny’s turn,” Harry said quickly, changing the topic as Fred expected him to. Harry didn’t usually talk about his life before Hogwarts. He’d probably only shared that horrifying fact because of the alcohol.

“Scars are sexy,” Fred murmured in his ear, thinking Harry’s pink cheeks might be embarrassment from the pitying looks he was getting from part of the group now.

Harry smiled up at him and, even if it was a rather lazy smile, it still made Fred’s stomach feel fluttery. Which was a lame thing to think, even if it was true.

“I’ve done a lot of things,” Johnny laughed. “I dunno what to say.”

“Bet I’ve done more,” Harry bragged. “C’mon, try me.”

Johnny stared at Harry hard, with a grin on his face that Fred would almost call mischievous if it wasn’t for the cold look in his eyes.

“Never have I ever... been in love.”

Harry slowly sat his glass down and gave Fred a guilty look. Fred just grinned down at him and nodded to his own undrank from glass. He knew Harry didn’t love him, not right now anyway. And Fred was crazy about him, but he didn’t know if it was love just yet.

“Suppose Angie will be mad if I drink before I tell her?” George asked while everyone else teased Hermione and Theo who took drinks with pink cheeks.

“I think being in love sounds awfully romantic,” Lue said dreamily from her spot on Harry’s shoulder.

“I think it sounds terrible,” Susan laughed, sounding a little drunk herself. “I mean, sex sounds like a good time, but love? Ugh. Too mushy.”

Johnny perked up beside Fred, who quickly elbowed him.

“She’s fourteen mate,” he whispered harshly.

“Same age as Harry,” Johnny pointed out quietly.

Which was fair enough. But Johnny was starting his last year at Hogwarts and Fred was entering his sixth. Plus, Harry hardly seemed like he was two years younger than Fred. Sometimes Fred thought Harry acted more mature than most of the seventh years.

“Your funeral,” Fred murmured.

“Your turn,” Johnny winked with a light laugh.

Fred looked around and locked eyes with George, who nodded just slightly towards Ron, who looked entirely too sober for Fred’s taste.

“Never have I ever... wet the bed.”

Everyone roared with laughter as Ron turned bright red and scowled at Fred before taking a drink.

“I was SIX!”

“Leave Ron alone,” Harry said. “Cheers Ron.”

Harry lifted his own glass and took a drink, which was the opposite of what Fred wanted. Harry already seemed pretty unsteady. Theo also took a small drink, which was interesting for the stoic Slytherin boy.

“My turn then?” Harry asked, sitting up slightly.

“Is there anything you haven’t done?” Hermione asked.

“Probably not,” Malfoy snorted.

After nearly five minutes of Harry thinking, and people tossing out ideas he kept shooting down, they found out one of the few things Harry had never done before in his life was kiss a girl.

“Fred was my first kiss, wasn’t he?” Harry shrugged.

Fred absolutely did not puff his chest out proudly at this previously unknown fact about Harry.

Except he did.

Because sweet Merlin. He was Harry’s first kiss? It was brilliant.

“How do you even know you like blokes then if you’d never kissed a girl?” Ron asked.

“I don’t ‘like blokes’,” Harry scowled, which was more cute than threatening in his tipsy state. “I like Fred.”

Fred thought his face might actually break with how hard he was smiling.

‘I like Fred’.

“And Fred’s not a bloke?” George asked with a huge grin.

“Piss off,” Johnny said, lighting a cigarette. “Harry doesn’t have to explain his sexuality to you lot.”

“Ta,” Harry said, now eyeing Johnny’s cigarette.

“Nope,” Fred shifted Harry over a bit so he couldn’t see it anymore. “Snape’s already gonna murder me in the morning when you smell like booze, let’s not add cigarette smoke, yeah?”

“Fine.” Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Lue, you still playing?

“Oh yes,” Lue said eagerly. “I quite like this game. It’s interesting hearing everyone’s secrets.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” Harry laughed, missing the jealous looks Fred and Susan both aimed at Lue.

“Last round then?” Theo asked, Hermione now nestled on to his lap.

Fred and George shared a smirk at why Theo would suddenly be in a rush to end the game.

“Alright,” Fred agreed. He didn’t care about Theo’s sex life, but he very much didn’t wanna kill off Harry Potter with alcohol poisoning.

Or, maybe worse than killing Harry, would be telling Severus Snape about it.

Fred was a brave guy, in his own humble opinion, and the sorting hat put him in Gryffindor for a reason. But any idiot could see that even if Snape might be lax about Harry’s rules, he was a maniac about his safety.

So yeah, last round.

“Never have I ever lost a bet,” Lue giggled, starting them off again.

Nearly everyone except Lue and Johnny took a drink.

“Ron’s a gambler,” Harry said to Fred, clearly in what he thought was a whisper but was loud enough the whole group heard it. Fred hid his grin to hear Harry’s London accent shining through now that he was relatively pissed. “But he usually wins bets, don’t he?” Harry went on with a fond smile. “He’s a fuckin’ genius.”

Ron’s ears turned red at Harry’s compliment and he’d looked rather pleased with himself. Which, as his older brothers, Fred and George couldn’t stand for.

“Aww, Ronnieeee, are you a genius? Maybe gonna follow dear old Percy’s scholastic footsteps?” George teased him.

“You’ll make us so proud,” Fred added, wiping away a fake tear. “Mum will be pleased to hear how smart you are.”

“Knock it off,” Susan scowled. “It’s my turn now anyway.”

Fred wanted to bash his head off the floor at the look in her eyes when she turned her head straight towards Johnny and tossed her hair behind her shoulder in a flirtatious way.

“Never have I ever given a guy a blow job.”

Well, Fred tried. He really had. But Johnny sat upright at that and Fred knew it was over with.

“Her aunt will kill you,” he murmured with one last effort.

“Might be worth it,” Johnny said.

Fred scowled and took a drink of his nearly depleted glass. As did Hermione (to many loud laughs).

... and so did Harry.

Which was odd, because he’d never done that to Fred. He’d offered once, but he’d looked bloody terrified so Fred told him no. Then Harry acted like he owed it to him, which was disturbing, and Fred patiently explained that what he did was his own choice, and that Harry should only do things that he wanted to.

But that was one of the first nights Fred stayed at Harry’s house. Ever since then he’d cut back on anything further than heavy snogging and letting Harry touch him wherever he asked.

He thought about adding the blow job thing to his list of things to ask eventually, but tossed it out. Harry was hot and cold when it came to anything more than snogging, Fred wouldn’t make it worse by interrogating him about old experiences. Harry would tell him when he was ready.

“Whose turn is it?” Harry slurred, making Fred grimace. He didn’t really think this game would lead to Harry getting this drunk.

Fred Weasley was a dead man if Snape found out.

“The Weasley Twin you aren’t laying on,” Malfoy said.

Fred looked towards George and flicked his eyes down towards Harry and then shook his head slightly.

George scrunched his nose for a split second, their signal when they understand each other.

“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Never have I ever... had a crush on a teacher.”

Fred was relieved when Harry laughed at Ron, Hermione, Susan, and Lue when they all took drinks and left his own on the floor.

“Who’d’ya have a crush on?” Harry asked Lue.

“Professor Snape,” Lue said without even the slightest amount of embarrassment. “He’s rather charming isn’t he?”

The rest of the group, except for a now deeply blushing Hermione and a smirking Susan, laughed at that.

“Not you too,” Ron groaned at Susan and Hermione. “Snape is not charming!”

“He- he kind of is,” Hermione said with a guilty look at Theo, who Fred was impressed to see just looked amused. “He’s got the whole tall, dark, and mysterious vibe going on.”

“Plus he’s a bit dangerous isn’t he?” Susan said. “Ex Death Eater spy and all.”

“What about you Ronald?” Johnny asked with a lazy grin. “Are you pining after Snape too?”

“Gross,” Ron shivered, but suddenly looked sheepish. “Had a crush on Professor Sinistra though. She’s gorgeous.”

Johnny, George, and Draco all murmured their agreements before Draco poked Ron and told him to take his turn.

“Alright, alright, let me think.”

“That’s a new one,” Fred whispered to Harry.

“Quit pickin’ on Ron,” Harry murmured. “Or we’ll fight.”

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to win a fight Potter,” Johnny laughed. “You’re drunk as hell.”

“I’d still win,” Harry said confidently. Johnny probably would have argued the point except Harry rolled his right wrist and had Johnny’s wand flying right to his hand. “See?”

Which was bloody hot.

Fred quickly took a sip of his drink to make up for the fact he hadn’t before when Johnny said he’d never been in love.

Fred might be in love with the mad bloke laying on his shoulder.

“Never have I ever stolen anything,” Ron said with a pointed look at George.

“Liaaaar,” Harry laughed after tossing Johnny’s wand back to him. “Stole that rock with me in first year, didn’t ya?”

“What rock?” Johnny asked.

“Magic rock,” Harry said with an uneven grin. “Top secret though.”

“Yeah but you actually stole the rock,” Malfoy said. “We told you to put it back.”

“Well then cheers,” Harry tapped his glass against Fred’s before the two of them, Johnny, George, and Susan all drank.

“You’ve never stolen anything?” George asked Malfoy disbelievingly.

“I’m the only child to wealthy parents, I’ve never had a reason to,” Malfoy shrugged.

Well, Fred supposed you can’t fault a bloke for playing the cards he’s dealt.

Malfoy nudged Ron lightly with his elbow and suddenly looked downright evil.

“Never have I ever had a crush on anyone in this room,” he said.

Draco and George were the only two who didn’t drink at that.

Fred looked around and tried to fit together the pieces based on the blushes and nervous looks going around.

Hermione and Theo used to have a crush on each other, easy enough.

Johnny and Susan seemed to be making flirty eyes at each other now, which Fred wouldn’t classify as a ‘crush’ but whatever worked he supposed.

Harry hopefully only ever had a crush on Fred.

Which left Lue and Ron.

“Ronnie I’ve told you a million times, your crush on me is bloody weird,” George sighed with an exaggerated grimace of disgust.

“I have never had a crush on you!” Ron sputtered. “Merlin George. Gross.”

Malfoy mumbled something in Ron’s ear that Fred was too far away to hear. But George must have heard enough because he quickly flicked his eyes to Hermione before looking back at Fred and waggling his brows.

Which was absolutely hilarious because Theodore Nott might be a boring little bookworm, but Fred would put big money on him destroying Ron if he even looked in Hermione’s direction.

“Well we all know who Luna had a crush on,” Susan laughed.

“Who?” Harry asked curiously.

“You,” Lue said easily. “When we first met I thought you were my hero. You kept showing up and helping me when the other students weren’t being so nice.”

“When did I do that?” Harry scrunched his face up in a way that would have been much more adorable if Fred wasn’t fighting against another surge of jealousy at the moment.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Lue wasn’t a pretty girl laying on his boyfriends shoulder and using words like ‘my hero’.

Don’t be a jealous prat, he repeated over and over while Lue recounted stories of Harry showing up and blasting students in to walls that were bullying her.

“Of course now you’re with Fred and I think we’re better off as friends,” Lue said kindly as she patted Harry’s knee.

Jealousy absolutely had nothing to do with why Fred bent over and kissed the top of Harry’s head.

Nothing at all.

“Never have I ever cheated on a test,” Hermione said abruptly, apparently trying to speed up the end of the game.

Fred, Harry, George, Johnny, Susan, and Draco all took quick drinks.

“The room spinnin’ or is that just me?” Harry slurred.

Merlin.

“That’s enough of that,” Fred said, sliding Harry’s cup off to the side. “Maybe you should take drinks of water instead?”

“Nope,” Harry reached out and stubbornly pulled the cup back towards himself. “It’s almost over, yeah?”

Yes. Thankfully.

Fred tried to give Theo a significant look, hoping he’d know that Harry absolutely did not need to drink more. Which, he must have understood to some extent.

“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo.”

Fred sighed with relief when Harry didn’t drink. Of course Johnny did, which Susan certainly didn’t fail to notice.

“Never have I ever been told I’m bad at sex,” Johnny said with an overtly obvious grin in Susan’s direction.

George took a drink, which made Fred laugh remembering how he told him the first time he had sex with Misty Tomlin in their third year she’d told him he sucked afterwards.

“Fred you prat,” Ron scowled.

Fred, who had been busy laughing at George, looked over at his other brother, “What?” He followed Ron’s gaze and glanced down just in time to see Harry set his glass down after apparently having taken a drink.

What the bloody hell.

Fred was Harry’s first kiss. But Harry had already had sex?

Harry had already given someone else a blow job?

Didn’t it usually go kissing, oral, then sex? Or had Fred lost the plot somewhere?

Ron clearly thought Fred had been the one to say it, so it must have either been a one night thing or someone Ron didn’t know.

... Or ... or something before Harry started at Hogwarts?

He shut that horrifying thought down when Harry suddenly looked horribly uncomfortable and shifted slightly away from Fred with a guilty look in his eyes.

Guilty and... scared maybe?

“I’m knackered,” Fred lied with a soft smile for Harry. He didn’t care if Harry slept with a million blokes before him, he was with Fred now, wasn’t he?

And if something happened before Hogwarts then Fred would just track down whatever person thought they could sleep with an eleven year old and kill them.

“Let’s call it a night, yeah?” he suggested before kissing Harry firmly on the top of his head.

You’ll tell me when you’re ready, he thought fiercely.

“You still have to take your turn!” Ron protested. “C’mon, last one.”

“Yeah, don’t be a quitter Weasley,” Malfoy drawled.

“Fine,” Fred said shortly.

If he hadn’t been annoyed with his brother and worried about Harry he never would have said the words that came out of his mouth next.

In his absolute defense, he hadn’t been thinking. He was just spouting out the first most outrageous thing he could think of that would shut Ron and Malfoy up and end the game before Harry actually passed out on the bloody floor.

It also probably slipped out since Fred was plotting out how some prank items could be used as torture devices as well.

“Never have I ever killed anyone.”

And nobody even flinched when Harry Potter raised his glass in a mock toast, his eyes hazy, and took a drink.

“Awesome,” Johnny breathed.

It wasn’t awesome.

Harry had told Fred, a whole group of people actually, how he’d killed Quirrell his first year. Fred didn’t think it really counted, since Harry hadn’t meant to, but apparently Harry counted it.

It wasn’t awesome, but Fred could absolutely admit that it was bloody hot.

Fred had always been attracted to a bit of danger. A quiet life was never in the cards for him. And Harry was dangerous. Dangerous and brilliant and so layered and complex that Fred thought he could spend the rest of his life trying to unravel the mystery that made up the messy haired, green eyed, mad bloke who chose that exact minute to actually pass out on Fred’s shoulder.

Chapter Text

“So how about that nightcap then?” William Weasley waggled his pierced brows in a way that was supremely irritating. “Unless of course you’d rather just tell us what you want.”

Perceptive.

William was always a bright student.

Unfortunately Severus could not indulge him with the truth lest he give away Lucius’ cover that Potter assigned to him.

“I am hoping our presence in the childrens’ tent will defer them from any more foolish stunts,” Severus lied. “I believe they all woke up this morning with terrible hangovers and it would be remiss of me to return them to their parents tomorrow in a similar state.”

“Hard for them to go home with hangovers when someone gave them pain relieving potions this morning,” Lupin said with a small smile that irritated Severus nearly as much as Williams wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Severus said drily, holding open the tent entrance. “Shall we?”

The other men, though Charles scarcely counted in Severus’ opinion, ducked through the flap and settled comfortably on the hideously bright sofas.

“Harry slept on that one there last night,” Charles grinned with a nod towards the red one. “Poor bloke just reeked of booze.”

“Delightful,” Severus murmured. He had known Potter woke up sick from whatever horrifying activities a large group of unsupervised teenagers (because Black and Charles quite obviously did not count as supervision) got up to when they were alone. He had not realized Potter had drank until he passed out on a sofa.

“Was he alone?” Black asked, his face torn between something like a scowl and laughter. “Because your brothers been stuck to him like glue. Poor saps got it bad.”

“Fred slept on the other sofa,” Charles laughed. “I would have stayed in here too but I figured they were safe enough on separate sofas and I don’t think Harry likes me much.”

Severus barely withheld a snort at that downplayed comment. Potter seemed downright terrified of Charles Weasley. Though Severus could hardly determine why, Charles was very similar to the Twins, personality wise, from what he had seen when Charles was a student. He had assumed it had something to do with the man’s size. Potter was fearful of adult men in general, adult men who were built like muggle bricklayers would doubtlessly be all the more unsettling to the child.

“Well let’s see if they had anything good then, eh?” William grinned and pulled out his wand. ”Accio alcohol.”

Severus was not able to withhold his groan when half a dozen bottles of firewhisky flew from the kitchen cupboards to Williams lap.

“Woah,” he laughed. “They’ve got cheap taste. You guys need to teach Harry to appreciate the finer things in life.” William shook a bottle towards Severus and Black before summoning a stack of glasses.

“Anyone else feeling a bit nostalgic?” William asked as he handed out glasses half filled to the other men. “Remember when we were all students just sitting around thinking with our pricks and drinking booze with our friends?”

Black and Lupin exchanged loaded smiles, though Severus himself could not relate. When he had finally established himself with a group of friends, they’d mostly sat around discussing magic that would make these men sick to their stomachs to imagine.

“Well here’s to growing up then,” Charles lifted his glass. “Now we’re just a bunch of old men drinking together to keep the kids from doing it.”

Severus politely raised his glass before taking a drink. He needed to remain alert, as did the others, but one glass would hardly impact any of their spellcasting.

Severus settled back in his seat and attempted for a nonchalant pose as the other men talked of the match they had just witnessed. Severus was no fan of quidditch, but it was minimally more enjoyable when it was not his ward soaring through the sky collecting injuries. Though, the way Potter’s eyes had lit up when the Bulgarian seeker caught the snitch and ended the game spoke volumes towards Severus suffering through many more matches in his lifetime.

“You look thoughtful Severus.”

Severus looked up from his glass to Lupin’s darkened amber eyes (for the full moon was only two nights away, a fact Severus was confident of as he was still supplying the Wolfsbane Potion to Lupin).

“Apologies, I was considering the likelihood of suffering through more quidditch matches once Harry graduates,” he said truthfully.

“Harry wants to fly professionally?” William whistled. “He’s got big goals, doesn’t he?”

“Harry doesn’t want to play quidditch,” Black snorted. “Well, not after he turns 30 anyway. The kids already got his political campaign for Minister all planned out.”

Charles began laughing, which was a rather insulting reaction to Severus’ wards dreams.

“Something amusing Weasley?” he asked coolly.

“It’s just-“ Charles chuckled again as he attempted to regain his composure. “Harry’ll win, won’t he? Bloody hero and all that. And then I should probably just stay in Romania, yeah? The actual Minister of Magic might not let me back in.”

Severus’ lips nearly twitched at that. In another sixteen years there would doubtlessly be hoards of Wixen just hiding in foreign countries from Potter.

“I might join you then,” Lupin said cheerfully. “Harry’s not my biggest fan either.”

“He’s warming up,” Black defended his godson immediately. “He’s stopped calling you ‘Wolf’ anyway.”

And that, that did cause Severus to chuckle.

“Am I missing the joke?” William asked with a puzzled grin.

“Snape is the only other one who calls Rem ‘Wolf’,” Black explained, inexplicably grinning himself. “Snape thinks it’s funny that he’s corrupted James’ son to insult his old friends.”

Severus’ amused chuckles died almost instantly at Black’s accurate interpretation.

He was not sure when Black became adept at interpreting his reactions, but he certainly did not care for it.

“And now he’s mad because I guessed what he was thinking,” Black said smugly.

“You’re a bit soft for Harry, aren’t you?” William said to Severus slyly. “Never would have thought the terrifying Professor Snape would sit with a kid who was having a panic attack.”

Which was a horribly insulting statement to make. Potter was hardly the first student Severus had talked through a panic attack.

“When was Harry having a panic attack?” Lupin asked.

“Before the match,” William took a small sip of his drink. “Poor kid, looked like he was gonna cry when that blonde chick walked away from him. Guess Freddie might have some competition after all.”

“What blonde chick? Luna?” Black asked, his brows furrowed down. “Don’t be daft. She’s Harry’s best friend. I didn’t notice Harry panicking about anything. Think he’s alright?”

“He was fine a few minutes after Snape sat down,” William said. “Don’t think he likes crowds much, does he?”

“He does not,” Severus murmured, casting a significant look towards Lupin.

“It was pretty crowded up there, how many people do you think showed up for the match today?” Lupin asked, effectively distracting the men from Potter’s short spiral earlier.

Which had splintered Severus’ heart to witness. When Miss Lovegood came and informed him that it would be best if he sat behind Potter for the match, he had seen Potter gripping Bones’ hand as if his life depended on it with his face drained of any color.

The child could scarcely enjoy a sporting event with his friends without being triggered. It was pitiable.

When the topic turned back to the Quidditch match Severus hummed cordially a few times to seem appropriately interested, all the while internally praying that the signal he was waiting for would not come to pass.

Which meant that it did, of course. Because Severus Snape was hardly a man who received the things he wanted.

At just a quarter after eleven, Severus received a patronus, a small wyvern, that said a single word spoken in a harshly disguised whisper:

“Now.”

The other men had fallen silent from the moment Narcissa’s patronus arrived.

“What’s happening?” William asked, alert and prepared with his wand drawn.

In a small part of Severus’ brain that was not plotting the upcoming battle, he had a fleeting thought;

Why could this not be the Weasley that Potter had fallen for?

There was quite an age gap, but William was leagues more tolerable than Frederick was.

“Charles, wake the girls, now. Black, Lupin, outside the tent immediately, hold your position no matter who approaches. William, in front of the interior entrance. I will wake the boys,” Severus barked the second the wyvern dispelled.

“What’s happening?” Lupin asked, thankfully as he and Black ran to the position Severus ordered him to.

“Death Eaters,” he snarled.

The Weasley’s blanched but both moved quickly as Severus made his way to Potter’s room.

He threw on the lights and made for the bed that contained Potter and... and God damned Frederick Weasley.

Not the time.

“Potter. POTTER!” he shouted, needing the most sought after target to be removed from the situation immediately. Especially when said target was the only thing of importance in his life. Potter believed Severus was his? He would allow the sentiment because Potter was his, and he’d be damned if a fool like Avery would take him from him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Frederick mumbled as Potter sat upright and brandished his kaiken, mere inches from Severus’ throat.

This was one of the few times Severus admired the child’s trauma oriented reflexes. Perhaps he would survive to terrorize the United Kingdom as Minister if he kept his vigilance high during the upcoming tumultuous times.

“Do not stab me you insolent brat,” Severus snapped. “Get your friends and have Mavis take you to our home, immediately.”

“Why?” Frederick groaned.

Severus tried to convey his message to Potter silently.

Thankfully Potter’s eyes were alert in an instant as he understood.

“It is starting,” Severus said. “Go.”

The two of them had already formulated the plan before they left Spinner’s End to retrieve Potter’s friends. Potter would evacuate the children to his heavily warded home where Draco would floo call Narcissa to stay with them. Black and Lupin would remain with the tent until all the children evacuated. Lupin would be an adequate guard this close to the full moon, there was not an entity on the Earth that would sneak past him with his senses this heightened. Black was a ridiculous moron, but Severus could begrudgingly admit that the man had at least a modicum of skill when it came to offensive magic. Severus would know, having been his target when it was mere child’s play. Plus the man would throw himself in front of any curse aimed anywhere in Potter’s direction.

A sentiment Severus silently appreciated about the mutt.

The additions of the two eldest Weasley’s were unexpected, but not unappreciated, surprises. William was now a curse breaker who had graduated with a full seven NEWTS. And Charles tamed dragons for a living, a fact Severus only knew due to sharing a breakfast table with Frederick more times than he cared to admit. Any man capable of stopping a dragon from eating him alive could hold off a Death Eater or two.

And Severus? Severus was itching for the opportunity to throw himself in to the fight that would be breaking out. Severus was not so arrogant to believe that he would be on the top of the list when the Dark Lord rose, Potter would have that dubious honor, but his publicly announced betrayal would land him quite high on the list.

And if there was ever a time that a deranged Dark Lord, who should be dead thrice over, was seeming to rise from the grave and he personally wanted you dead- then you take that opportunity to deal him as many blows as possible.

Which Severus would gladly do.

He ran through the tent entrance and paused momentarily between Lupin and Black, who were tense with their wands raised and their eyes hardened, to decide the best location for the most carnage.

Lucius had seemed certain that Avery would want to make a huge spectacle and that they were prepared to torture any muggle they came across. But he also said that Avery had become personally insulted with the way Potter’s strength was spoken of. Avery had made multiple threats towards Potter, thinking that killing the child before the Dark Lord rose would earn him their Lord’s highest favor, and this would be a prime time to make a move. The Minister had Potter in the spotlight all day, every Wixen in attendance was undoubtedly aware of his presence and his campsites location.

And they were.

Because they were coming.

“The kids are all gone,” William said curtly as he and Charles joined defensive positions beside the other men. “And- oh mother fucker.”

Mother fucker indeed.

Lucius told him Avery had rallied ‘almost two dozen witches and wizards’. But the crowd that was boisterously making its way towards them was at least thirty. They must have picked up others as they tore through the campsites.

He had no hope of finding Lucius in this crowd.

Dear God let Lucius have fled.

Apparently they had decided to engage in muggle torture and come hunt down Potter. There was an obviously muggle family flipping sickeningly in the air above the crowd that was purposefully making their way towards them.

“What d’we do?” Charles murmured.

“We fight.”

“Brill.”

No, no, no, no-

Severus glanced behind him and-

Yes.

“Get out of here now, they are coming for you, you stupid child,” Severus hissed quietly as Potter walked right up to his side, Frederick, Theodore, and Bones flanking him.

Imbecile.

It should not have taken spotting Susan Bones for Severus to recall that the Head of the DMLE, an accomplished and fierce Witch who fought in the last war, was sound asleep not twenty feet from their position.

In his defense...

Actually, it was indefensible.

He had to do better.

Severus quickly flicked his wand towards Amelia’s tent, having no more time than to cause the tent to shake harshly in an attempt to wake the witch.

“C’mon, you know I’m staying,” Potter said. “George and Ron have swords to protect the others at home. Draco’s getting Cissa. Plus Mavis was told to kill anyone who even steps on our property that isn’t us. So let’s fight.”

“No, Pup get the fuck out of here, right now,” Black said harshly. His eyes now creased and worried as he watched the carelessly loud crowd making steady progress their way.

“Gonna need your permission to use my wand here Professor,” Frederick said tightly.

Severus had no time for this. None at fucking at all. They had perhaps less than sixty seconds before the crowd would spot Potter and begin cursing him.

Potter wouldn’t leave voluntarily and Severus could not lose the opening offensive advantage to argue with him.

“Black- grab him and go, NOW!”

Severus darted forward quickly and the fight he had been waiting for began in earnest.

Severus began throwing and dodging curses the instant he stepped away from the others. He had hoped that he would be an adequate target to draw the groups attention, and his hopes were not misplaced.

He was ducking from a poorly aimed crucio when he made out a shout that made his blood turn cold.

“GET THE FUCK UNDER YOUR CLOAK THEN!”

Potter had not left. He must have dodged Black’s attempts to grab him.

Because of course he did.

Severus doubled down on his efforts, now taunting the group to keep their attention away from wherever his ward was.

Which he could not attempt to decipher in this moment. He could fight and defend or he could find Potter. He could not do both.

Which felt much like failure.

You should have apparated him yourself.

“Pathetic Hutchins, surely you can do better than that?” he drawled irksomely as he lobbied away incoming curses.

“You’re a traitor Snape,” the unmasked man spat. “Didn’t take you for a mudblood lover.”

Which was either a slight to Potter’s mother or Potter himself.

Either way it could hardly go unpunished.

Severus sent a silent sectumsepra in the direction of Hutchins chest and threw himself towards four others who were running towards the tent.

Amelia joined his side and they dispatched the men quickly. Severus spared no thought to tapering his slightly less legal spells by her side, Amelia hardly was.

Which likely meant that she too had something quite important to lose.

“Where are they?” Severus snarled as he blocked a curse aimed for Amelia’s head.

“Charlie’s trying to hold back yours, but mines trying to kill Charlie,” Amelia understood him immediately. She fired off a slew of curses as she spoke quietly. “I stunned her before I came but yours woke her right back up.”

Severus was going to kill Harry fucking Potter if he survived.

Which his odds of doing increased greatly when Lupin, Black, and William threw themselves in to the fight.

“What’s little Potter gonna do when we’ve killed his whole family?” a coward behind a mask jeered as he dueled Black. “Time to quit hiding, huh? He’ll be with his parents soon enough.”

Severus hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the three masked men he was currently dueling alongside Amelia to witness it- but Black laughed quite madly before cursing the man’s arm off.

“Disarm and detain- I’m not doing the paperwork for deaths,” Amelia snarled.

“Who says you’ll be doing any paperwork at all?” One of the men jeered, aiming directly at Amelia around Severus’ shield. “Stupid bit-“

A hiss was all the warning Severus had that Potter had joined the fight before the man clutched his throat and fell down to his knees.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to her like that, scumbag.”

Severus immediately switched from offensive to defensive spells as Potter’s words drew the attention of the nearby wixen who were not already drawn in to a duel.

“HE’S THERE!” someone shouted before Severus clipped his vocal chords with a not quite legal jinx he invented.

“Where is Susan?” Amelia asked Potter briskly as she reflected an incoming curse back to the caster.

“Told Theo to take her home, didn’t I? Can’t let her get hurt,” Potter said easily as he casually started flinging silent spells of various colors and textures towards the crowd. “Snape where’s Bird Legs?”

‘Bird Legs’ being the codename Potter assigned to Lucius. He stated that ‘Lucy’ was too obvious, but ‘Bird Legs’ was apparently a nickname for a character named Lucy on a television show Potter once saw in a police station.

Lucius clenched his jaw when Potter suggested it and it had been cemented from that moment.

“Hiding presumably,” Severus snarled. “Where are your friends?”

“Theo’s keepin’ Sue safe, and Fred went with Bill to get the muggles. Charlie ain’t my friend, but he’s in the tent if you’re wondering. Knocked out cold, ain’t he?”

“You brash, idiotic, foolish-“

“I know.” Potter danced to the edge of the shield Severus had erected and began hissing and aiming curses around it.

If this had been any other moment, Severus would have been able to admire the way that magic rolled off Potter in powerful waves. It was invigorating and intoxicating.

But this was not the moment.

As it was, he was horrified to see him standing so vulnerably at the edge of the shield just to get a better aim.

“You shield, I cast,” Severus barked at Amelia who immediately put up her own shield.

“We’re like partners then?” Potter laughed as he caused a rushing masked man to howl in pain as he collapsed on his face.

“We are not partners, you are an insubordinate idiot,” Severus snarled, aiming his own curses towards the crowd. “And we are fighting legally,” he added in a hiss.

Severus would be damned if he kept Potter alive just for the child to be arrested for using an Unforgivable in front of Amelia.

“‘Kay,” Potter shrugged, before laughing again as he drew rocks from the ground and transformed them in to sharp clay knives that Severus used a gust of wind to blow directly in to legs of a man. Potter tied him up and Severus stunned him then levitated him to the side for Amelia to arrest later.

“We’re a good- NO!”

Severus spared the direction Potter was looking in a split-second of his attention, just long enough to realize what had caused Potter’s inappropriately cheerful mood to disappear so suddenly.

“No, Potter, don’t-“

Too late.

Potter howled and positively sprinted off towards the Death Eater who had Frederick unconscious. The man was clearly hoping to draw Potter out from behind the shield, and the idiot child played right in to his hands.

Fucking Potter genes, Severus cursed James’ Potter for passing along his own brashness as he ran after Potter, fruitlessly trying to land a stunner on the child while defending them both from the incoming slew of spells.

“It is a trap!” he yelled sharply.

“HE’S GOT FRED!” Potter put a burst of speed that Severus could never hope to match in his run and ran straight in to the wooded area where the masked Death Eater, Severus would put money that it was Avery, had drug Frederick.

And out of Severus’ sight.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled as he ran quicker.

His blood pumped harshly and his vision was tinted with red for the longest thirty seconds of Severus’ life that Potter was out of sight.

He ran in to a clearing just in time to see Potter snarl as he ducked from a green curse.

A fucking avada kedavra aimed right for Severus’ ward.

Absolutely not.

“Is Daddy here to help you?” Avery, for it was Avery, Severus would recognize that oily voice anywhere, cackled. “Can’t fight a real wizard by yourself Potter?”

“D’ya see a real wizard anywhere?” Potter snarked, throwing his own mixture of green and red curses towards Avery.

Thank God the child is adept at wandless magic.

Severus would never keep him out of Azkaban otherwise.

“Fred,” Potter murmured from the corner of his mouth as Severus threw every curse just on this side of legality that he knew towards Avery. He did not have Potter’s wandless advantage if he was interrogated at some point.

“Please,” Potter said quietly.

Severus turned his head just enough to scan the area and saw Frederick’s form lying on the ground beside a tree.

“Cover me,” he muttered as he dodged a silver spell aimed at his legs. Severus rushed to Frederick’s side and tapped the closest object he could find, a stick, with his wand, ”Portus.”

He used the edge of his robes to grab it and press it in the boys limp hand and sent him straight to Spinner’s End where Narcissa would be waiting.

He stood quickly just in time for three things to happen simultaneously-

Someone nearby, not Avery and much too close, how had Severus allowed this to happen?, shouted: ”MORSMORDRE!” Severus had no need to look up to know what image would now be painted across the sky.

Severus had barely ducked from a killing curse that grazed the very edge of his hair before ultimately killing the tree behind him.

And Martial Avery, a pure blooded favorite of the Dark Lord, fell over dead in a rush of green light.

“Apparate home now,” Severus hissed quickly. “Harry go, quickly.”

He could not save Potter from this if the child was still here. He heard the succession of rapid pops that meant that law enforcement had arrived. Potter would not go to Azkaban for this. Nor would he remain on the scene beneath the Dark Lord’s sign in the sky.

”Aere bullae.” Severus sent the spell in to the ground and turned to Potter. “Please Harry, now.”

Potter looked at Severus, his eyes wide, before he nodded curtly and disapparated.

And not a moment too soon.

“FREEZE!”

Severus threw himself to the ground quickly to avoid the slew of red stunning spells sent in his direction.

“YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!”

Severus slowly stood up and held his wand up in a non threatening position as he was suddenly faced with a wall of law enforcement, led by a wild eyed Bartemius Crouch.

The same Bartemius Crouch who had thrown Severus in to Azkaban, sans a trial, back in 1980, where he was only released thanks to Albus’ demands.

“What are the charges?” he said calmly, it would do him no favors to become abrasive.

“MURDER AND- AND THAT!” Crouch yelled, his eyes flicking upwards to the Dark Mark lingering in the sky.

“I have killed no one,” Severus said, clearing his mind immediately. “And I certainly did not cast that.”

“Then what d’you call him?” Another man, Amos Diggory, nodded towards Avery’s body.

“An accident sustained during a duel where that man attempted to kill me.”

“DO NOT LIE!” Crouch screamed. “YOU WERE A NASTY LITTLE-“

“Snape! SNAPE! Oh thank Merlin, where’s-“

Black drew himself up short at the crowd of Ministry officials and Severus shook his head very, very, slightly in the mutts direction.

Do not say Harry’s name, Severus pleaded internally. Shacklebolt already believed Potter was responsible for Nott’s death, if Potter was on the scene of another crime there would be no saving the child.

“What’s going on?” Amelia panted as she ran up on the scene as well. “Finally!” she snarled. “Took you lot long enough to respond.”

Diggory appeared taken aback by Amelia and Black’s appearance, Crouch however had his eyes glued to Severus’ wand.

“Who did that?” Amelia asked, her face paling at the sight of the mark in the sky. “I was dueling three of them when suddenly they scattered and- oh.”

The image of Severus standing with his hands raised, a dozen law enforcement officials with their wands trained on him, Avery’s dead body, and the mark all clicked together for her in an instant.

“Severus, what happened?” Amelia asked slowly, her eyes subtly flicking around, no doubt looking for Potter whom she saw Severus chasing after.

“I was dueling him-“ Severus jerked his head in Avery’s position, admitting he knew the man’s name would only remind them of the mark on his left arm. “And he nearly got me with a killing curse when I hit him with an air embolus jinx that mistakenly hit his chest instead of his leg. Then someone, not either of us, in the trees behind me sent up the mark.”

“And you expect us to believe that?” Crouch yelled, looking quite deranged. “You have been caught at the scene of the crime!”

“You are welcome to test my wand,” Severus said calmly. “I did not cast the dark mark.”

“But you’d know how wouldn’t you Snape?” Diggory said, curling his lip in distaste.

“I would, as I am sure you must have read in the newspapers I was a spy in the previous war.”

“Diggory, Dixon, Sutton- go search the clearing where Severus said he heard the voice come from,” Amelia ordered sharply. “The rest of you lower your wands before I slap you all with a 12-96 when we get back.”

The three ministry workers immediately took off to the area Severus indicated, leaving a wide berth around him as if he were contagious. The rest of the officials, aside from Crouch, lowered their wands slowly.

Severus kept his held up where it could be seen and loose in his hand.

Black, in what may have been the most shocking thing that has ever happened to Severus in his entire life, fearlessly shoved through the group and stood beside Severus with his shoulders squared and his jaw set.

After only a few seconds Severus felt a wave of relief as Diggory yelled;

“Yes! We got them! There’s someone here! Unconscious! It’s — but — blimey...”

“You’ve got someone?” shouted Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. “Who? Who is it?”

Severus heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Severus recognized it as the twitchy elf that had sat two seats away from him in the Top Box during the match.

Crouch did not move or speak as Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. Severus had the smug realization that the elf must belong to Crouch. Though, that hardly helped him since he did not believe a mere elf could cast the dark mark.

“This — cannot — be,” Crouch muttered. “No —”

He moved quickly around Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found the elf.

“No point,” Diggory muttered with a sullen look in Severus’ direction. “That elf was the only thing we found.”

“And you think an elf cast the dark mark?” A witch snorted. “The Dark Mark’s a wixen sign. It requires a wand.”

Severus subtly looked over towards the witch at that interesting statement. Not many knew that the mark required a wand because the Dark Lord could never bear a ‘lesser being’ to be able to cast his symbol. His eyes flicked over the witch a few times as he slowly tried to place her in his memories while remaining alert to the noises of Crouch searching the area behind him.

Aah, Joan Foster.

A lovely little witch in the auror corps who Severus had seen kneeling to the Dark Lord back during his prime.

“The elf had one, didn’t she?” Diggory scowled. “Look.” He held up a dark red wand. “Found it in her hands. So that’s cause for arrest right there.”

Crouch chose that moment to return to the clearing, his face pale and rather twitchy.

Severus thought it served the man right to be so embarrassed in front of his peers and subordinates.

“Do we wake her up and see what she’s got to say?” Diggory asked Crouch hesitantly.

“We will at the Ministry,” Amelia said sharply. “I want this done by the books.”

“No. No, I will deal with her,” Crouch said. “I- I will dismiss her. There’s no need to take her in. She’s only an elf.”

Diggory looked quickly between Severus and the elf with a puzzled expression.

“He admitted to killing him,” Diggory said slowly, pointing between Severus and Avery. “How do we know it isn’t a coincidence that Winky here had a wand and he didn’t cast the mark too?”

“Because you’re a fucking wizard you knob,” Black sniped from beside Severus.

“Er, of course,” Diggory blushed when a few people chuckled at Black’s words. “Madame Bones, shall I?”

“I will,” Amelia said with a sharp look at Severus. “Bring me all three wands.”

Severus mentally replayed every spell he cast from the moment he left the tent and was fairly confident that none of them could reasonably lock him up. The air embolus jinx itself was perfectly legal, and thankfully could cause a death without leaving a mark just like the killing curse could.

”Prior Incantato,” Amelia cast once Diggory handed her Avery’s wand.

Amelia flinched lightly when multiple green skeletons puffed out the end of Avery’s wand. Her dark blue eyes met Severus’ just briefly, but they both knew who the target of that many avada kedavra’s was.

Amelia carefully bagged Avery’s wand and sent it off with another witch before casting on Severus’ with one last searching look.

Severus was so singularly focused on what all he casted, he scarcely noticed that Crouch had revived his elf and was interrogating alongside Diggory.

He was mentally strong enough not to do anything so plebeian as sigh, but he felt his body relax minutely as Amelia replayed his last ten spells and they were all legal.

“Where did she get this wand?” Amelia asked Crouch, having handed Severus’ back with a slight shake to her head that he could not hope to interpret.

“Says she found it,” Diggory said, skepticism dripping with every syllable. “Also says she didn’t cast it.”

She absolutely did not. Severus heard a male with a deep and raspy voice cast the spell.

A fact he certainly would not be sharing. Crouch’s elf could be dismissed for casting a spell if she rightfully continues to deny it. She’ll be chalked up as another elf gone mad.

Severus would be arrested and imprisoned for the same thing.

”Prior Incantato!”

Severus watched with a distant sort of interest as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, a mere shadow of the green skull high above them.

“She cast it,” Amelia said, bagging that wand as well.

Crouch drew himself up and glared down at the elf.

“This means clothes Winky,” he said just as coldly as he did when he sent Barty to prison. Severus stared balefully at the man as he recalled stories Barty had shared in a hushed voice with Severus and Regulus late at night when they would roam the grounds.

Perhaps if Crouch Senior treated his household members with a drop of kindness they would not be so defiant, Severus thought harshly.

Crouch looked up from the sobbing elf as he thought that and his eyes met Severus’.

“Arrest him,” he barked. “He killed that man.”

“He killed a damned Death Eater on accident,” Black immediately said, pointing his wand at the one brave Hit Wizard who had began to approach them.

Severus looked towards Amelia, the only real authority to issue arrests here, and his stomach sank as he realized what that shake to her head had meant when she handed him back his wand.

It meant, I can’t help you.

“I’m sorry, we’re going to have to take you in until we get the full events of tonight sorted out,” Amelia said, indeed sounding sorrowful.

And for the second time in his life, Severus Snape was arrested and transported to a Ministry holding cell.

How did I allow this to happen?

Chapter Text

CRACK!

“FRED! WHERE’S FRED?!” Harry started yelling the moment he landed in his sitting room and looked around the empty space.

Harry didn’t care what Snape said, if Fred was hurt then he’d go back and kill every single Death Eater he found.

“Up here!” Someone yelled from the stairs, it sounded like Theo.

Harry ran up the staircase and burst in to his room, taking little notice of his friends huddled together on a little sofa in the sitting room Theo designed for the front part of their bedroom. Instead he zeroed in on the tall, lanky, redhead in Harry’s bed.

“Hey darlin’,” Fred grinned. “Were you worried about me?”

Harry felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he launched himself towards the bed and knelt beside it.

“It’s m-my fault, I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, looking up at Fred and hoping he would understand. “I didn’t m-mean for it to happen- I thought you were s-safe- I’m sorry.”

Someone behind Harry put their hand on his shoulder and he jumped to his feet, whipped around, and had his knife to their throat before he blinked and realized who it was.

“Fuck, Cissa.”

“Language darling, there are ladies present,” Cissa said softly, gently lowering Harry’s arm with a light touch to his wrist. “I did not mean to startle you, I merely wanted to tell you that Mister Weasley is fine. He was only stunned. He has a mild concussion but nothing that cannot be treated as soon as Severus gets home and grants me access to his potions.”

It didn’t matter what Cissa said. Snape would have to check Fred when he got here. Snape had healed Harry loads of times, Cissa hadn’t. He liked her, but he didn’t trust her when it came to healing like he did Snape.

Harry glanced around the room quickly and saw that Theo, Hermione, Susan, Draco, George, and Ron were the only other people left in the room.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked quickly. “Lue? Nev? Johnny and Hannah?”

“I took them home,” Cissa said. “I thought that their parents would be relieved to have their children by their side when the news breaks of the attack tonight.”

Harry nodded shortly. Theo, like Harry, had no parents. George and Ron’s Dad was already at the campsite along with Susan’s aunt. And Hermione’s parents were Muggles.

Harry looked around his room again quickly and carefully to make sure there wasn’t anyone else around before he turned back to Fred.

“You- You’re okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Right as rain,” Fred smiled up at him and held out his hand. Harry hesitantly grabbed it and Fred laced their fingers together and squeezed gently.

“You should have left,” Harry said hoarsely. “I told you to go.”

“And let you have all the fun yourself?” Fred clicked his tongue. “No way. I wasn’t leaving you behind.”

Your fault, a nasty voice in his head whispered.

“Get out,” Harry said over his shoulder to his waiting friends.

“We are having a fucking conversation later Harry James,” Susan snarled before slamming the door as they all left.

Harry didn’t care if Susan was mad. She got mad every time that Harry didn’t let her get in a fight. She’d get over it like she usually does.

Probably.

She was alive and safe and that’s all that matters. Harry had kept them all of the rest of them safe by sending them to his house with Mavis, even if they didn’t like it.

It was only Fred that he let down.

“How angry are you?” Harry asked.

“Angry?” Fred’s eyebrows flew high before scrunching down over his eyes. “Why would I be angry?”

“Cause you got hurt and it was my fault,” Harry said.

“C’mere,” Fred patted the bed beside him and gave Harry a lopsided grin. “Please?”

Harry hesitated while he debated with himself quickly. He didn’t really want to be on the bed once Fred realized how mad he was at Harry for getting him hurt. But... but Harry had fucked up, hadn’t he? He should have made Fred leave right away when he first sent Luna with Mavis. He knew better.

People who hated you always tried to take what was yours, and those scumbags could have taken Fred away forever tonight.

“‘Kay,” he said quietly. If Fred wanted to scream or smack him around or whatever, it wouldn’t be any better because Harry was standing. It would hurt just as much either way.

Harry crawled over Fred’s legs and settled himself as close to the wall on the opposite side of the bed as he could, dropping Fred’s hand to get as much space between them as possible.

“Why was it your fault I got stunned?” Fred asked, turning to look at Harry with his steady blue eyes.

“They were comin’ for me, weren’t they? And- and I shouldn’t have let you stay, I should have sent you back with Theo and Susan,” Harry rambled nervously, already having figured out how badly he’d messed up the second he saw that guy in the mask dragging Fred off towards the woods. “And what if I hadn’t seen him? Huh? He could have done anything to you Fred! Because I’m an idiot! You shouldn’t have been there!”

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Fred said firmly, but not unkindly. “Harry I wouldn’t have left without you. Theo and Mavis might have been able to drag Susan off, but nothing could have made me leave while you were there.”

“Then I should have left!” Harry yelled. “I should have left and brought you back myself! You could have died! Or- or been hurt real bad!”

“You wouldn’t have left,” Fred said, his calm demeanor not matching Harry’s internal anger.

He’d messed up.

Bad.

That Death Eater hurt Fred and almost killed Snape and who’s fault was it?

Harry’s.

“I-Why aren’t you doing anything?” Harry yelled. “This was MY FAULT!”

“What d’you want me to do Harry?”

“Anything! You almost died and it was my fault! Just- just get even and forgive me, yeah?”

Harry didn’t want to owe Fred for this. He wanted Fred to get even and then things could be normal. If he didn’t do it now then he could cash in on it anytime he wanted. And it would be worse if Harry wasn’t expecting it. Everything hurt a little less when you were ready for it.

“Get even?” Fred asked quietly. “Harry, how am I supposed to get even?”

“I don’t know!” Harry yelled, frustrated. “I-I got you hurt, and-“ Harry just remembered something else Fred would probably be mad about. “-and I hurt your brother. So just...” Harry clenched his eyes shut and stuck his chin out determinedly. “Just get it over with and we can go back to normal.”

Fred didn’t say anything for a long moment and Harry listened to his own harsh breathing in the still silence.

“Harry... Merlin... D’you think I’m gonna hit you?”

Harry jerked his shoulders in a rough shrug.

“Or whatever,” he choked out, drawing up as much of his mental barriers as he could. “Just- whatever you think w-will make us even.”

“Harry.”

Harry opened one of his eyes slowly at Fred’s strangled tone. Fred was staring at him, he had his hands buried in his own hair and his lips pursed tightly shut.

“What?” Harry asked when Fred didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“I’m not going to hit you,” Fred said slowly.

“You have to,” Harry said, beginning to feel a little frantic about it now. “Fred I-I don’t wanna owe you later. Okay? So...” Harry grimaced and tried to sound as uncaring as he could. “Or d-d’you want me to do something instead?”

“Like what?” Fred asked, his voice soft.

Harry took a deep breath.

He could do this.

He’s done it before.

It wasn’t a big deal.

He liked Fred. Thought Fred was fit and funny and brilliant.

It would be better this time.

Probably.

Most importantly, it would make them even.

“We can have s-sex,” Harry offered quietly, looking down at the quilt on the bed as he rubbed his thumbs over the soft yarn. “Or- or I can just do you... if-if you want.”

Harry didn’t look up at Fred after he made his offer. Either Fred would accept it or he wouldn’t. And Harry was fighting like hell to keep his face blank right now, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up if he had to look at Fred.

“Yeaaaah,” Fred drew the word out slowly. “We definitely aren’t doing that.”

Harry tried to swallow down the lump he felt in his throat at Fred’s quiet words.

He needed to get out of there before Fred realized he was just as pathetic right now as he was weak during the fight.

He couldn’t protect Fred. Couldn’t protect Snape until it was almost too late. And Fred...

Fred didn’t want him.

Which stung more than Harry thought it would.

“‘Kay... Well... I’ll just go... and when you feel better... you... you don’t have to stay,” Harry scooted to the end of the bed so he could get down without having to climb over Fred again.

“Harry, wait-“ Fred reached out for him but Harry flinched away before he could grab him. “Are you, Merlin, are you crying?”

“No,” Harry snarled, even though he felt one weak traitorous tear trailing down his face. “‘M not fuckin’ crying. You don’t want me. I can’t make us even. It’s brill, ain’t it?”

“There’s nothing for us to be even about!” Fred said loudly, causing Harry to turn and face him from his new defensive position flat against the wall. “I’m not angry! You didn’t do anything wrong! And I’m not having sex with you because you feel guilty!”

“Then you’re gonna want something later and I don’t want to wait!” Harry yelled back, glad to feel angry now instead of weak. “You’ve gotta tell me what you want now!”

“I want you to not offer to let me screw you because you’re upset! It’s- that’s barmy Harry! That’s not how a relationship works! It’s not-”

“That‘s how the world works Fred,” Harry interrupted him curtly, unsure why he was starting a fight with someone he didn’t want to fight with. “The real world? The world outside of magic and quidditch and a huge fuckin’ family that cares about you? That’s how it works.”

“WELL IT BLOODY WELL SHOULDN’T!” Fred yelled, running his hands through his hair roughly. “Merlin’s teeth, that’s so bloody disturbing I don’t even know what to say!”

“Disturbing am I?” Harry sneered. “I don’t need this. I don’t- I don’t have to sit here and be insulted.”

Harry jumped off the bed and rushed out of the room, ignoring whatever Fred shouted behind him, but hearing something go crashing to the floor clear as day.

He stormed down the stairs, intending to find Snape, and drew up short when he found Black in the sitting room with Theo, Cissa, and Draco.

“Where’s Mione and Susan?” he asked. “And Snape? Where’s Snape?”

Snape had been in the woods when he sent Harry home. Harry wouldn’t have gone, except he was worried about Fred and he figured Snape would be right behind him.

“Moony took the girls home,” Black said, a pinched expression on his face. “And... and Snape’s in a holding cell at the ministry.”

Harry blinked at Black for a long moment, his mind hardly processing what he said.

“What did you just say?”

“Snape’s in a holding cell being interrogated about what happened tonight.”

”YOU LET THEM TAKE SNAPE TO JAIL?!” Harry yelled. “HAVE YOU LOST THE FUCKING PLOT?”

“Language darling,” Cissa said softly. “Lucius is with him now. It is only a holding cell for interrogations. He will return home to you.”

“What the fuck?” Harry whispered. He had no idea how this day had gone so sideways, but he strongly suspected it might be his fault. “Why... what was he arrested for? We fought those scumbags too! How come you’re not in jail?” he asked Black sharply, vowing to himself that he’d strangle him with his bare hands if he pulled a Pettigrew and ran off when Snape got arrested.

“Snape killed one of the Death Eaters Pup,” Black said in a solemn voice. “He confessed, but even though he admitted to it being self defense, there was a lot of confusion with the wands and who cast what and they took him in to sort it out.”

Harry felt all the blood in his body rush to his head and he swayed in his spot.

“Snape... confessed?” he asked weakly, bracing himself on the bookcase. “Who? Who did he kill?”

“It was the tall one with the mask in the woods you guys ran after,” Black said.

It wasn’t ‘might be’ his fault that the day had gone so sideways. It was definitely his fault.

“Why would Snape say he killed him?” Harry choked out. “Why w-“

“Boys, bed, now,” Cissa interrupted him with an uncharacteristically sharp order to Draco and Theo.

Harry didn’t notice their sullen looks and shuffling steps as they went up to Harry and Theo‘s bedroom. He felt the faint shiver of magic that felt like a silencing charm but he was too focused on his own thoughts to question it just then.

It didn’t make any sense.

Why would Snape confess to something he didn’t do? Snape was a genius. He was the smartest person Harry had ever met. Why would he do that?

“Harry, listen to me very carefully,” Cissa said, moving to her feet so she could duck and put her face right in front of Harry’s. “Severus already admitted to it. But Lucius is with him now. And he’s going to bring him home. Do not say a single word more. Do you understand?”

“But... Snape didn’t-“

“No, Pup, he confessed. They have a spell on his wand that matches his story. That’s all they care about,” Black said in an intense sort of voice. “Nothing anyone says will change it, only make it worse.”

“They’ll throw him in Azkaban,” Harry whispered. “They- they don’t care about the laws do they? You know that. They’ll just- just lock him up forever.”

And then where would Harry be? If Snape was rotting away in Azkaban because of something Harry did? He couldn’t do all this alone. Without Snape.

“They can’t have him, I need him,” he admitted, looking up at Black with pleading eyes. “Will you go get him? Or I’ll go? I can call up the Minister. Just show me where to go.”

“No,” Cissa said firmly. “Harry you cannot. Lucius will have him home soon. You will make it worse if you show up with wild tales of false confessions.”

“BUT IT IS FALSE!” Harry yelled, his voice cracking. “I KILLED THAT DEATH EATER! IT WASN’T HIM! THEY CAN’T FUCKIN ARREST HIM FOR WHAT I DID!”

“They can and they did,” Black said sharply. “Snape confessed Pup. You won’t take that away by saying you did it. I don’t care if you killed a bystander to be damned honest, if Snape wants to take the fall for you over it, then you will bloody well let him.”

“You- you just hate him!” Harry accused him. “You’d be happy if he was in Azkaban wouldn’t you? Cissa,” he turned to Draco’s mum, his cousin. “Cissa, will you take me there?”

“No darling,” Cissa shook her head gently. “We need to wait until we hear from Lucius, alright?”

They didn’t get it. This was his fault.

His fault.

His fault.

His fault.

Harry hissed at them both and stomped up the stairs. He hesitated though when he reached for his door handle- Draco and Theo were in there. And so was... so was Fred.

He spun on his heel and threw open Snape’s bedroom door and flung himself on Snape’s bed. What did it matter if he broke their rule about staying out of each other’s rooms now? Snape was in jail.

And it was Harry’s fault.

The lump Harry felt in his throat earlier welled back up and Harry barely threw up a hasty locking charm on Snape’s doorway before he felt it choking him and making his eyes water.

It was all his fault.

He’d cocked it all up with Fred and Snape was going to Azkaban because Harry killed that guy.

Harry laid face down in the middle of Snape’s bed and tried to hold it back, tried so hard his shoulders were heaving with the strain, but eventually he broke and he let all of his anger at himself come out in tears and wails.

‘You ruin everything, boy,’ his Uncle had hissed at him through the vent on the cupboard door when he was younger.

And he was right. Harry ruined Snape’s life. Ruined it with Fred. Just... just ruined everything.

He just laid there for hours, not quite sleeping but not quite awake either. He had a painful reminder of the way he used to sleep when he was hidden in an alleyway or abandoned building, which of course set off another round of tears. These ones thankfully silent.

At some point, when the sun was still rising, and Harry thought he was probably bone dry from as much as he’d cried, Mavis popped in to Snape’s room and quietly handed Harry his medicine and a glass of water.

“Mister Snoop would not want Master to miss his nasty muggle medicine,” he squeaked out solemnly. “Master needs to take his medicine and come eat the breakfast Mavis has made.”

Harry stared down at the stupid white pill in his hand and would have thrown it away except... except he already let Snape down once today. Or, yesterday he supposed. The least he could do was take the pill that Snape was so strict over.

It wouldn’t help Snape get out of jail, but it did ease the knot of guilt in Harry’s stomach just a little.

“Thanks Mavis,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse and raspy. He swallowed the pill down quickly before he could change his mind. “What time is it?”

“Six which means it’s time for Master Potter and Mister Theo to be eating breakfast.”

“Is anyone else here?” Harry asked, fighting down a surge of hope.

He knew it was stupid to hope for things. He wasn’t a toddler whinging in a cupboard anymore. But he wanted Snape back. He didn’t deserve to go to jail for what Harry did.

“Only Mister Theo and Mister Mutt,” Mavis said, his eyes sad as if he knew who Harry was hoping for.

Even Mavis’ title for Black wasn’t enough to draw even a weak grin from Harry. He knew it was no use trying to argue with Mavis though, Mavis was tiny but he was stubborn as hell. If he’d decided that Harry needed to go downstairs to eat breakfast, then downstairs Harry would go.

Harry slunk down the staircase behind Mavis quietly, listening closely for any sign that there was anyone in the house besides the people Mavis listed off.

His shoulders slumped when he walked in the kitchen and it was only Black and Theo at the table.

“Cissa and Draco went home to shower and change real quick,” Black said, pulling a chair out for Harry with his foot. “Come eat.”

“Fred’s mum called around four and demanded Fred get home,” Theo murmured quietly, his skin ashen like he hadn’t slept much either. “He said he’d come back if you wanted him too.”

Harry shrugged, no bloody point anymore, was there?

Harry picked at his food, making a few honest efforts at taking bites when Mavis cleared his throat pointedly. Eventually though he was just mashing it together in to an unappetizing lump in the center of his plate.

“Can I do anything for you?” Black asked gently. “You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded absently. “I- I didn’t sleep much. Might just go lay down for a bit.”

“You can have our room,” Theo said. “I’ll read in the sitting room so I don’t bother you.”

Harry waved him off, already getting up and heading back to Snape’s room. It was nice in there, quiet and peaceful, a bit like Snape himself.

Harry pulled back the thick grey comforter on Snape’s bed, curled up beneath it, and tossed his glasses on Snape’s nightstand table.

You got what you wanted, you’re sleeping in the bigger bedroom.

Harry would sleep in the fuckin’ shed if it meant Snape came back. He laid there and counted his breath’s as he tried to come up with a plan.

He’d sleep for a couple of hours then if Malfoy still wasn’t back with the right answers, he’d floo straight to Fudge’s office himself and get Snape released. He didn’t care what he’d have to do- Snape wasn’t going to sit in Azkaban with the dementors because Harry killed that guy.

A plan now formed, he let himself sleep more soundly than he had for the few hours he’d rested last night.

Harry had fallen asleep so hard that it took a few minutes of someone stroking his bangs off his face before it broke through his sleep and he bolted upright. He blinked a few times, hesitant to trust his own vision without his glasses, before he finally found his voice:

“Snape!” Harry let out a strangled sort of laugh and practically threw himself at the man, choked sobs escaping him once again.

Chapter Text

“Severus I can’t tell you again how sorry I am, really, this was just-“

“I understand,” Severus lied wearily. He’d been talking with Minister Fudge for hours now and he was exhausted. He wanted to go home, ensure his ward was safe, and then sleep. Preferably for at least twelve hours.

“Come now Severus, you must be exhausted,” Lucius cut in smoothly, interrupting another round of apologies from the Minister. “Cornelius, if you’ll excuse us.”

“Oh of course!” Fudge said, bouncing on his feet just the slightest amount and wringing his hands together. “Don’t you worry Severus, they won’t be bothering you again!”

The most reaction Severus could summon at that ridiculous comment was a small wave as Lucius put a friendly hand on his shoulder to guide him out of the Minister’s office and to the floo’s.

“Jesus Christ,” Severus muttered. “What a nightmare.”

“A nightmare? Severus, you spent less than two hours in a holding cell. I would call that a win,” Lucius murmured.

“The holding cell was preferable to listening to Fudge bumble on for-“ Severus checked his watch and swore to see it was already nine o’clock in the morning. “Five hours.”

“Yes, well,” Lucius gracefully lifted one shoulder in a ‘what can you do’ type of way that ground on Severus’ nerves in his current exhaustion. He had been ‘brought in’ (for Amelia firmly stated he was not being arrested despite the fact he was apparated directly to a holding cell by an infantile auror) and interrogated for hours. He repeated the story he concocted calmly several times without wavering in the details.

They dueled. He had meant to incapacitate Avery by an air embolus to the leg. He had not meant to hit his chest, but since Avery had been dueling to kill- he was not remorseful either.

He had been... surprised?... when Amelia failed to mention Potter’s involvement in the fight. He was hardly going to outright ask her about her reasoning, Slytherin’s were never ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he suspected it had much to do with Potter flinging curses and casually stating that he forced Susan Bones to leave the campground so that she would be safe. Amelia likely rewarded his loyalty with her own.

What was more than that though, was his shock at hearing that Black had immediately sent Lucius a message to meet Severus at the Ministry and act as his legal representation at Black’s own expense.

Which Lucius had done as soon as he had finished hiding from his fellow Death Eaters and the on scene law enforcement.

“Ready?” Lucius asked him, a smug look on his face.

Severus grit his teeth at how irritating Lucius will now be. Severus would have to find a way to repay the man for involving the Minister on his behalf or suffer a smug Lucius for months. An act he could have done himself had he thought of it. Though, he likely never would have because he did not think that the highest ranking Ministry official in the United Kingdom would come to his immediate defense, but still. Lucius had no cause to appear so smug.

“I will meet you there shortly, Narcissa and Draco are at home at the moment,” Lucius said as they stepped up to separate floo exits.

“No need,” Severus waved off his offer. “I am jinxing the boys to their room and then sleeping until dinner.”

“Good luck with that,” Lucius chuckled. “Potter was-“ Lucius shook his head slightly and lowered his voice so none could overhear. “Potter was something last night, was he not?”

“He was,” Severus agreed shortly. Potter was something. Though Severus believed that something was brash, foolish, thick headed, and idiotic. “Goodnight.”

Lucius sent a pointed look toward the sunlight filled windows before shaking his head and stepping in to his floo. Severus did the same and called out his home address with no small amount of relief.

“Professor!”

Severus stepped through his fireplace and was immediately confronted with Theodore leaping to his feet from the sofa he had been nestled upon.

“Snape! They released you?”

“No I transformed into a flea-ridden mutt and escaped,” Severus muttered sardonically as Black strode in to the room. “Where is Harry?”

Severus had two things on his mental to do list and neither involved small talk over shared experiences with Sirius Black.

“Uh...” Theodore and Black exchanged uneasy looks and Severus had sudden visions of Potter on an absolute rampage through the ministry.

“Where is he?” he repeated severely. Or, as severely as he could given he had not slept in over 26 hours at this point.

“Your room,” Theodore answered immediately. “He stayed in there last night.”

“He what?” Severus felt caught rather off guard at this odd response. Why in Gods name would Potter sleep in his room? He looked over at Black who nodded in agreement. “Why did he sleep in my room?”

“I don’t think he slept much,” Theodore muttered.

“Excuse me then,” Severus said coolly, quickly ascending up the staircase.

Severus swore if he found out Potter had ‘not slept much’ by entertaining Weasley in his bed while he was at the ministry that he would just kill the fool child and be done with it.

He threw open his door and was surprised to see his room was empty.

No, not empty. For Potter was on his bed, just as Theodore had said he was, only curled up small and buried beneath Severus’ blanket, sound asleep.

And thankfully alone.

Severus quietly crept closer and stared down at foolish child. But Merlin, Potter hardly looked to be the devastating tornado of trauma, bad decisions, mental illness, and magical power that Severus knows him to be when he is like this. His fringe was plastered to his forehead, his jaw relaxed and slack with sleep, and the dark tear stained smudges beneath his eyes were a testament to how little he had slept in Severus’ absence. No, he was hardly the chaotic demon Severus so often dealt with in this state, he looked terribly young and fragile.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly smoothed Potter’s hair off his face.

“What am I to do with you child?” he murmured, his previous fury melting away at the vulnerable state Potter was in. “You foolish brat.”

Severus stroked Potter’s hair for a few minutes, lost in silent contemplation, when the head beneath his hand abruptly jerked upright and Severus suddenly found himself with an armful of a sobbing teenage boy.

“I- I thought they’d try and k-keep you away forever,” Potter rasped out between the most pathetic wails Severus had ever heard.

Good Lord, had it only been seven hours since he’d sent Potter home and been arrested?

This... this surely this was not a healthy reaction.

“I didn’t want to lose you too,” Potter wailed.

“Me too?” Severus felt his chest freeze at Potter’s words. What had he missed?

... Weasley.

For the love of God, how had he forgotten that he sent Weasley’s limp body back right before the night had truly gone to hell? Lucius hadn’t mentioned it when he arrived at the Ministry, but that was hardly something he would have cared about.

“Harry-“ Severus gently pulled Potter back so he could see his face. His tear streaked face. “Harry where is your Weasley? Is he injured?”

“He was,” Potter said, wiping his face with his jumper sleeve which may have been one of the most disgusting things Severus had ever witnessed, and he was a Potions Master. “Got a concussion, didn’t he? Cissa said he was fine though. M-Molly told him to come home.”

Severus quickly did a tally of anyone else Potter may have been counting as someone he had lost.

Lupin, perhaps? Severus had not seen him after the fight started, he had assumed the man had known his status as a werewolf would be looked down on as much as the masked Death Eaters would be and fled when the Ministry workers arrived.

“Harry, you said you did not want to lose me too, who is gone?”

Potter swiped at his face once more and gave Severus a sorrowful look.

“Fred,” he said quietly. “B-broke up, didn’t we?”

Potter clearly attempted for a nonchalant tone, but it was belied quite clearly by his expressively devastated eyes.

Severus, who had rarely in his life ever offered comfort to another human being, silently opened his arms wide in an invitation for Potter to return. He was exhausted, but Potter had also clearly had a rough night and Severus would hardly send him on his way in his current state.

Potter stared at him for a moment, his initial surprise at seeing Severus receding and his hesitance returning, before he slowly leaned his head on Severus’ chest and allowed him to wrap him in a loose embrace.

“Why would you break up with him?” Severus asked softly once Potter’s shallow breathing evened out to something more natural.

“I didn’t, he did,” Potter mumbled in to his chest. “He left cause I... Him getting hurt was my fault, yeah?”

Severus was going to wring Weasley’s neck. Why would he end his relationship with Potter when he had stubbornly insisted on staying and fighting by his side last night? Potter sent Theodore and Miss Bones home before jumping in to the fight, Severus doubted whether he had put a wand to Weasley’s head and forced him to stay.

God damned Gryffindors.

Severus took a bracing breath and knew it would do no good to lie to Potter.

“Weasley was injured at the hands of a Death Eater, but he would not have been there if you had take everyone home and left when I instructed you to,” Severus said slowly. It felt cruel, saying these things now when Potter was leaning against him so uncharacteristically vulnerably, but Potter needed to hear them. Severus could not go through this again.

“And the cops arrested you... and that was my fault too?”

Severus almost stopped his admonishments when Potter sounded so quiet and so...

Regretful.

Thank God.

Severus had rarely seen Potter regret a single decision in all the years he had known him. They were incredibly similar in that way. They made a decision, they stuck to it, and they rode it out, consequences be damned. Severus had many regrets now that he was older and wiser, particularly when it came to Potter, but Potter had only ever shown him regret once when they had fought back in February.

But Potter had to hear this. He needed to understand that there were consequences for his actions, even if Potter himself was rarely the one to serve them.

“I need you to understand first that I am not angry,” Severus said. God forbid the child believe he was angry with him, there was no telling how he would react.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Severus was sure he would offer something appalling to ‘even the score’. Potter matched anger with anger when faced with someone he dislikes, and matches anger with offers when it is someone he is fond of.

“I am not angry, but I am disappointed,” Severus continued, lightly placing one of his hands on the back of Potter’s head. Potter’s back visibly tensed for a moment before he released a shaky breath and relaxed once more. “You once again disregarded my instructions, charged ahead with your own convictions, and as a result I had to cover for you with the Ministry. As did Black and Amelia, which put Amelia in a terrible position with her career. You risked your life, Mister Weasley’s life, and all of ours when you decided to stay instead of leaving as I asked you to.”

Potter remained silent, aside from the slightest of hitches in his breathing.

“I wanted to fight,” Potter said plaintively.

“I know.” Severus adjusted his position on the bed so that he could lean against the headboard and shifted Potter’s head to his shoulder. He tried to consider a view that Potter may understand apart from ‘this was wrong because I said so’. “But you did not help our side of the fight. Instead you made me weak and vulnerable. I had to focus on protecting you rather than fighting.”

“Why?”

“Why did you take off after Avery in to the woods?” Severus asked instead.

Potter lifted his head up and stared at Severus incredulously.

“He had Fred! He would have killed him! Or hurt him real badly!”

Severus slowly reached out for Potter and guided his head back to his shoulder.

“So you needed to protect him because you did not wish for him to be injured? Even though it made you weaker and more open to attack when you left the safety of the shield Amelia had conjured?”

“Yeah...?”

Potter was not dim. The child had intuition so sharp it could cut a person open. The problem was that Potter could not see the parallels in the situation because it is unthinkable to him that anyone would make themselves weak, a state Potter despised more than anything, on his behalf.

“And that is why I had to focus on protecting you rather than fighting when you refused to leave,” Severus said gently, but firmly. “I would rather myself be unsafe than risk you becoming injured or killed. Just as you would have rather been unsafe than risk Weasley’s injury.”

Potter said nothing for a long moment and Severus tilted his own head back against the headboard. Either Potter would understand or he wouldn’t. Severus could hardly summon a quill and draw a picture for the child.

“Why’d you tell them you did it?” Potter eventually asked quietly.

“You would have gone to Azkaban,” Severus said simply. “I could not allow that to happen.”

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble, I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear.”

“I believe you that it was not your intent, but it is what happened as a result of thinking yourself to be above the law,” Severus told him. “There were many other ways you could have disabled Avery without resorting to an Unforgiveable.”

“He tried to kill you!” Potter said, his voice hoarse and heated. “He almost did! I was almost too late!”

Severus had been quite sure that Avery’s close curse to himself had been the trigger it took for Potter to land his own curse, but it was still heartening to hear. There were very few people who would be willing to commit murder on Severus’ behalf.

Actually, there was very likely only one person.

“He did,” Severus agreed. “And now tell me what happened as a result of your choice to kill him.”

This was yet another time that Severus regret teaching Potter occulmency. Though he could practically hear Potter’s mind whirling, he would give many things to hear his actual thoughts.

“Er... you went to jail?” Potter eventually said hesitantly. “Cause of what I did?”

“And?”

“And... and you said you’re not mad at me? But maybe you are?”

“I am not,” Severus assured him. “Though there were further consequences for your choice.”

“I dunno then,” Potter said. Which was unsurprising. Potter was fiercely loyal and protective of those he considers to be ‘his’, but the child was also self-centered. A trait Severus did not begrudge him, as a certain amount of this was incredibly conducive to surviving all that Potter has survived, though it hindered him from seeing any consequences outside of the ones that directly impact himself.

“Due solely to your choice to kill Avery, I was arrested. Then Amelia risked her job by lying to her coworkers when she collaborated my story denying your presence in the woods. Black also risked his newfound freedom to defend me to the ministry-“ which was still rather surprising. “And it all could have been avoided if you had listened to any one of my requests prior to that.”

“What do I do to fix it?” Potter asked. “I- I didn’t know all that was gonna happen. How do I fix it?”

“You cannot change what has already happened,” Severus told him. “You can fix this by learning from it. And what I want you to have learned from this is to use your highly intelligent mind in the future and consider every possible outcome of your decision before you make it. Think to yourself, what is the worst case scenario if I do this? And then decide if it is worth the risk.”

He could hardly control the child, he doubted if there was an entity in the universe that could, but he hoped that Theodore had been correct when he once said that Severus’ words meant something more important to Potter.

After a long moment Potter lifted his head off Severus’ shoulder and grinned at him weakly.

“Highly intelligent, huh? Thought I was an idiot.”

Severus scoffed and closed his eyes.

“You have proven that a singular person can be both things, congratulations.”

“Are you tired?” Potter asked him, carefully placing his head back on Severus’ shoulder, his own shoulders tightening, as if Severus would shove him away.

“I am,” Severus told him truthfully.

“D’you want me to leave?”

Severus grabbed the edge of the quilt on his bed and tossed it over both of their legs.

“No.”

When Severus woke up several hours later it was to a darker window, a sore neck, and a wet shoulder.

Apparently Potter drooled in his sleep.

Which was disgusting.

Severus very gently moved Potter from his shoulder to the pillow and quietly made his way downstairs.

He summoned a pain reliever as he went, thankful for the immediate relief he felt in his aching neck and torso. He was much too old to sleep in such an awkward position, but he hadn’t relished the thought of kicking Potter out either.

Though the pain reliever was hardly enough to prevent a migraine from blooming when he walked in his sitting room to see Frederick Weasley perched on the edge of his sofa, Black patting his shoulder kindly.

“Leave,” Severus said shortly, looking at Frederick but not caring if Black believed he was speaking to him. “I have no idea what you want, and I do not care.”

The idiot was not going to blame Severus’ ward for being injured and hurt him by ending their peculiar relationship, then be consoled in their own home by Potter’s own traitorous godfather.

“Is Harry asleep?” the stupid boy asked. “I wanted to talk to him.”

“He is. Leave.”

“What’s your problem?” Black asked, his forehead furrowed with puzzlement.

“Did you know that he-“ Severus gestured at the red-headed menace on his sofa, “-ended his relationship with your godson last night?”

Black must not have, because he slowly pulled his arm away from Frederick and gave him what was likely meant to be a disappointed look.

“You really thought last night was a good time to breakup with him?” Black asked.

“I bloody well didnt!” Frederick cried. “We had a bit of a fight, that’s it!” He looked up at Severus, who could admit that the boy looked upset, though not as upset as Potter was. “Did Harry tell you we broke up?”

“He did,” Severus said.

Trust Potter to not understand the difference between a disagreement and a breakup.

“You can handle this,” he told Black as he turned to enter the kitchen.

He certainly was not going to involve himself in the relationship woes of his students, no matter how curious he was what Potter had fought with Frederick about. Black had maintained a relationship for seventeen years, even with being incarcerated for twelve of them. He could handle this particular aspect of raising Potter.

Severus’ decision to remain uninvolved was thrown entirely out the window when Black and Frederick both entered the kitchen not ten minutes later while Severus was attempting to enjoy a quiet lunch. He had been about to pick up the paper when they both walked right in, sporting similar sheepish looks.

Honestly. Perhaps he should have acquired his own home when he gave this one to Potter. Somewhere peaceful, quiet, private...

“I think you’re gonna want to handle this,” Black said, shifting from foot to foot like a nervous first year in detention. “I’m just gonna go... make sure Moony’s okay...” He clapped Frederick on the shoulder and gently pushed him towards a chair. “Good luck mates.”

“We are not mates,” Severus snarled. Black just chuckled and walked out, the floo activating not moments later.

Potter’s penchant for chaos was truly ruining Severus’ life. Never in his worst nightmares would he imagine a hell where he was referred to as one of Sirius Black’s ‘mates’. Suffering through meals with one of the Weasley Twins in his home would be a runner up for nightmares though if he had ever carried enough imagination to picture such a thing.

He glanced over at Frederick, who truly had the slumped look of a young man suffering from his first heartbreak, and rolled his eyes.

“I will give you precisely five minutes of my incredibly valuable time before I go inform Potter that he should find a more worthwhile candidate for his affections,” he said coolly. Even if Frederick had not ended their relationship, he had certainly chosen a poor time to pick a fight with Potter.

“Harry thought I was mad at him because I got stunned last night, but I wasn’t. And then he was just sitting there thinking I was gonna hit him! Which I wasn’t! And then-“

“Shut up.” Severus sighed heavily after silencing Frederick’s rushed explanation. He had spent so much time around Potter, Theodore, and their friends who were all either Slytherin or ‘might as well be’ that he had forgotten how literal Gryffindor’s tend to take things. “I will allow you longer than five minutes if you breathe and speak like a human being with a modicum of intellect.”

Frederick took a deep, and noisy, breath before starting over more slowly.

“Harry came back last night and he thought I was mad at him because I got stunned. And I told him I wasn’t. But then he told me that I needed to ‘get even’ and acted like he thought I was gonna hit him. So I said I wasn’t gonna hit him, Merlin why would I? And then he offered-“ Frederick broke off and mumbled something down in to his lap, his ears turning a hideous shade of bright red.

Which was fine. Severus had no need for Frederick to inform him what Potter had offered him in exchange for ‘evening the score’. He was quite sure it would have been vulgar.

“And you said?” Severus asked, his brow raised and his hand on his wand. If Frederick had accepted Potter’s offer then he would ensure the boy was never able to accept a similar offer in the future again.

Frederick’s face snapped up and he looked truly appalled.

“I told him no! I said we weren’t gonna have sex because he felt bad!”

Severus loosened his grip on his wand slightly at that. Though he did not entirely let go of it, he would gladly take an opportunity to hex the irritating child across from him if he was given one.

“And Harry was upset by your rejection?”

“Yeah,” Frederick was clearly uncomfortable as he was twisting the edge of his jumper in his hands. “I didn’t even know he could get so upset. And then he told me ‘life’s not all magic and family, this is the real world’, and then he stormed out. No, wait,” Frederick looked pensive for a moment. “I said ‘that’s barmy’ and he said ‘I don’t have to sit here and be insulted’ then he stormed out.”

Potter returned from the forest and learned that Frederick had been injured. He believed Frederick would be angry and blame him for his injuries so he offered himself as a way to settle an imagined score. Frederick rejected him, Potter became upset then misinterpreted his remark and stormed away.

Which, was absolutely par for the course when it came to Potter’s understandings of relationships.

“Jesus Christ,” Severus muttered as he ran a weary hand over his face. “Why are you here?” he asked, a distinct lack of bite to his tone.

“I wanted to talk to him, figure out what went wrong so we can fix it,” Frederick said earnestly. “I thought maybe he’d had enough time to cool down and we could talk about it. I didn’t know he thought I broke up with him. I would never, I think I lov-“

“Shut up,” Severus said again. Whatever Frederick thinks he feels for Potter is something he should tell Potter, not him. Severus considered the situation very carefully as he kneaded his forehead.

On the one hand, he was no fan of the cocky self-proclaimed ‘prankster’ sitting across from him. On the other hand, he cared a great deal for Potter and his happiness. Which meant that despite how very little he wanted to, he knew what he needed to do.

“Go home,” he said curtly. “I will speak with Harry this evening. You may come back tomorrow.”

Frederick gave him an insulting look of surprise.

“You’d do that for me?” he asked.

“I would not, I would do that for Harry,” Severus said simply. And he would hardly do it for Potter if it had been a normal fight. But it was not, and so Severus would intervene.

Plus very, very, very begrudgingly he could admit that Potter seemed fond of Weasley. And he could see how Weasley’s optimism and cheer could be a draw for Potter’s own cynicism and gloom. Hadn’t Severus felt a draw towards Lily for the same reasons?

“I’m gonna talk to George, but I think if you’d do this we can promise you a prank free classroom until at least Christmas,” Frederick grinned.

“If I find my classroom to contain a single ‘prank’ then I will set a curse that will broil your skin any time you come too close to Harry,” Severus countered with.

Frederick looked nearly impressed.

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” Severus smirked. And he could. He had already considered it the first time Frederick appeared at his breakfast table.

“Amazing,” Frederick breathed. “I’m telling you, Harry’s got all the luck when it comes to guardians. I bet you know all sorts of cool curses.”

“Many of which I will demonstrate if you do not leave my sight immediately,” Severus took a calm sip of his tea.

Frederick jumped to his feet with another large smile, as if he hadn’t just been threatened. Perhaps William was correct. Severus must be going soft.

He would need to rectify that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Frederick said with a sloppy salute before sticking his hands in his pockets and strolling towards the sitting room.

Severus scowled. There were entirely too many people becoming too comfortable in his home for his taste.

God damned Potter.

Quiet reigning through the house once again he finally picked up his paper, and immediately sputtered at the top headline.

HERO SEVERUS SNAPE DEFENDS MUGGLES DURING CHAOS AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!

He read the article carefully, ensuring there was no mention of Potter’s involvement in the fight. Which there was not. What was discussed was Severus’ apparently quite numerous life achievements. Skeeter had started with his ‘irreplaceable war efforts as a spy’, his achievement as the youngest ever Potions Master, and his additional accomplishment of becoming the youngest ever staff member to be appointed at Hogwarts. And, of course, an entire paragraph discussing his rescue of Potter ‘from the loneliness of living with a family who never cared for him’. Martial Avery’s death was a mere footnote buried at the bottom of the article.

Merlin. His carefully cultivated reputation was gone.

God damned Harry Potter.

He was still reading the article when Theodore appeared and settled himself in what was now becoming his accustomed seat at the table.

“Reading about what a hero you are sir?”

“I believe the words were ‘bravest Slytherin to walk Hogwarts halls’,” Severus scoffed, quoting a direct line from the article.

“Harry won’t like that, I think he was hoping for that title,” Theodore said, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Harry will have to settle for being the most reckless Slytherin in history. And speaking of which,” Severus put the paper away and fixed Theodore with a pointed look. “I believe you and I also need to have a conversation about yesterday.”

Theodore tapped his armrest a few times, which reminded Severus of the way that Potter rubs different materials when he is feeling nervous.

Which was quite the reminder that Theodore needed to be treated as lightly as Potter did on occasion. Especially when being reprimanded by an adult male in a position of authority over him.

“Theodore,” he said, gentling his tone slightly. “I am not angry, as I have already told Harry. But I am disappointed. Where was your sense of self-preservation when I told you all to evacuate immediately?”

“Harry didn’t,” Theodore said calmly, his brown eyes wary, but steady as they met Severus’. “Did you expect me to leave him there?”

No.

“If you had been killed?” Severus asked instead, knowing he would get no where with that particular line. “It was not duels with your classmates, those were grown Wixen aiming to kill last night.”

“Then I would have died,” Theodore said, his voice even and sure. “I would have rather of been killed than leave Harry.”

Which, as admirable as the sentiment was, it was also quite shocking. Severus knew Potter easily inspired respect, loyalty, and friendship. He had no idea the depths of those bonds. It was as if Potter had his own private army prepared to wage war and risk death on his behalf at only his word.

Severus very carefully ignored the reminder of another Slytherin who carried the same power.

“Why did you leave then?” he asked. “If you were so prepared to die in order to become involved in a fight you had no place in, why leave?”

“Harry told me to,” Theodore said. “He told me to keep Susan from finding a way to come back.”

“And you always do what Harry commands of you?” Severus asked, his dry tone masking his curiosity. Potter’s gangs dynamics truly were fascinating.

“When there’s a fight going on? Yes,” Theodore said with a light shrug. “Harry’s in charge of the gang and he gave me an order.”

For the love of God. It was not ‘as if’ Potter had his own private army, he did. Potter had no idea the weight his word carried within his gang of misfits.

“In the future, I would much appreciate you considering your own safety when Harry is rushing in to a fight,” Severus said, knowing his words were futile, but trying all the same. “It was foolish of you all to remain.”

“You did.”

Apparently Severus was not as threatening to Theodore as he feared he was.

“I am a grown man who is legally able to defend myself with magic outside of school,” Severus said tightly, irritated by his need to defend himself.

“Article 17 of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery says that in a case of a threat against my life so can I.” Theodore raised one brow in a silent challenge. “So why did you stay?”

“I hardly need to defend myself against a child,” Severus sneered. “Do you have nothing of more importance to do with yourself in this moment?”

Theodore smirked, sensing he had won some sort of battle between them. Which he absolutely did not.

“I’m waiting on Harry to wake up. Susan wants to come yell at him together when he does.”

“Excellent,” Severus groaned.

Give Potter a house, what’s the worst that could happen?

Severus did some quick calculations and was fairly confident that if he survived the next two summer holidays after this one, he could reasonably move out to somewhere private. Warded against visitors. No God damned floo access.

Two more summers after this one... if you survive that long.

“I will be in my office, feel free to not disturb me,” Severus said.

“Answering your incoming fan mail?” Theodore called cheekily as Severus made his way to his office.

Severus’ only response was a hard slam of his door.

He truly hated teenagers.

Severus did work on his stacked correspondences, though ‘fan mail’ was thankfully not a part of it.

He had a research update from Ramsey, with an invitation for Severus to test the newest charm he had developed for the basilisk venom. There was also a letter from the Contessa Zabini, with the precise formula for Potter’s medication that he requested she acquire for him.

Severus’ hope was that he could temporarily shift his research from the cure for cancer to creating a Wixen alternative that would act the same as Potter’s medication. The child was too prone to injuries to be unable to consume potions. He read over the ingredient list and calculations and was relieved to see that aside from two things, he had perfectly acceptable alternatives that could be safely combined in a medicinal potion. Only the ingredients that contained the element lithium would need to be swapped with an alternative...

Or... or altered to fit instead.

Severus summoned a book from his shelf and promptly buried himself in the art of elemental transfiguration of base atoms. Which is where he spent nearly two hours before the shouting from his sitting room permeated through his office.

“I DON’T CARE! I SAID I WANTED TO STAY AND FIGHT! YOU HAD NO RIGHT!”

Aah. Miss Bones had arrived.

Severus smiled slightly as the mad little witch voiced her complaints. It was ironic really, Potter sent Bones away for her protection yet refused to acknowledge why Severus had attempted the same for him. Potter truly had no sense of what he meant to people. Though, Miss Bones was certainly doing her best to get it through his head.

“IF I WANTED TO DIE THEN THAT’S MY CHOICE!”

“Marialos,” Severus murmured, wanting to hear Potter’s responses.

“-lose you too!”

Severus shook his head. It was a thoughtful sentiment, but Bones would hardly go for such a thought.

“What so we can’t handle ourselves?”

Severus almost felt bad. It sounded as if Potter was being ganged up on by Bones and Theodore both now.

“Take my knife from me and tell me you can handle yourself.”

Severus could nearly imagine the disdain on Potter’s face as he said that.

“Or I could hex you and show you how much I can handle myself,” Bones said in what would almost be a sweet tone if the challenge was not clear.

“So what? What we- we aren’t friends now? Just cause I didn’t want you to get hurt?”

Severus doubted if Potter could accomplish ridding himself of Bones that easily.

“Of course not,” Bones said, softer now. “You’re my best friend stupid, and I love you. But you can’t keep sending me away and calling it ‘for my own good’. It’s not fair Harry.”

It was also quite hypocritical of the child.

“We just want to fight by your side,” Theodore added. “Not be sent away to safety without you.”

“And if you die?” Potter demanded. “If you die because of me?”

“Then we die,” Bones said simply. “And it won’t be your fault because it will be our decision.”

Acting and dueling lessons this year... Severus decided quickly.

“That’s mad.”

“IT IS NOT FUCKING MAD IT IS OUR CHOICE HARRY JAMES!” Bones yelled again. “AND IF YOU DO IT AGAIN THEN I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOUR KNIVES!”

Severus bit his tongue to hold down the chuckle he nearly let out at such an absurd threat.

“The sword’s goblin made, I don’t think you can destroy it.”

“Do you think Hermione can’t find a way?” Theodore asked.

Severus listened as silence fell between the three students before Potter finally responded.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you get hurt you better swear not to blame me. Cause I’m not gonna owe you because you want to be stupid.”

“Harry we’re friends, you wouldn’t owe us anything,” Bones said in the kind of gentle tone Severus himself could never pull off.

“Yeah?” Potter asked hesitantly.

“Isn’t that one of the rules for the gang? You don’t owe us things?” Theodore asked.

“It is,” Bones said pompously. “So if we get hurt you won’t owe us anything except revenge against whoever hurt us.”

“Brill, deal,” Potter sounded eager. Severus shuddered to imagine the retaliation Potter would extract against the fool who injured one of those Potter considered his.

“Buuuuut, you do owe me for last night,” Bones said, a teasing lilt to her voice now. “And I wanna know why you and Fred were fighting.”

Though it was hardly needed, Severus leaned forward in his desk to hear Potter’s response more clearly.

“Broke up, didn’t we?” he responded shortly. “So that’s that.”

“What?!”

“Why would you break up with him?!”

Severus was relieved to hear he was not the only one who assumed Potter would have been the one to end the relationship.

“‘M not talking about this,” Potter said. “You guys wanna go see Lue with me? I wanna make sure she isn’t upset about last night.”

Severus ended the charm as they were discussing whether or not to pick up Granger before going to the Lovegood’s.

“Hey, we’re leaving,” Potter knocked on his door only minutes later.

“Be safe brat,” Severus called back, infusing as much warmth in his tone as he could. Their odd ritual must be important to Potter if he had mentioned it to Theodore the beginning of the summer.

And then finally, finally, Severus’ home was quiet and peaceful.

Severus waited until after supper that evening to fulfill his promise to Frederick.

“Harry could I speak with you?”

Potter looked up from the card game he was playing with Theodore with surprised eyes before he blinked and his face became impassive.

“‘Kay.”

“Perhaps in private?”

Potter glanced at Theodore, who was just as gracelessly sprawled on the floor as Potter, and shrugged.

“‘Kay,” he repeated, getting to his feet. “Your office?”

Severus nodded and led the way to his office. He waited until Potter was settled in the seat across from his desk before he cleared his throat.

“I would like for you to tell me what exactly transpired between you and your Weasley,” he said evenly.

“I’d rather not,” Potter scowled.

“I would of course offer you any one question in return,” Severus offered.

“I know everything about you though,” Potter pointed out, quite truthfully.

Severus tried to quickly think of a story or memory he could elaborate on for Potter’s amusement to get the conversation rolling.

“Have I ever told you of the time your mother was cited for underaged use of magic the summer after our fourth year?”

Potter’s impassive mask was gone in an instant. He blinked and appeared much more the age appropriate eager child prepared to hear a tale of his parent’s misdeed.

“No,” he grinned slightly. “Is that what you’re offering?”

“It is,” Severus smirked.

“Welllll, Fred said I was barmy and ended things,” Potter said. “What’d she do?”

“Magic,” Severus deadpanned.

“Hey,” Potter scowled. “That’s not on. Are you not gonna tell me any of the details?”

Severus inspected his nails and lifted his shoulder casually.

“Are you not?”

“Fine.” Potter crossed his arms defensively across his chest. “I tried to make it up to him that he got hurt and he didn’t want us to be even and I’m not gonna owe him later. So I said that he didn’t have any idea how the real world worked and he said I was being barmy and then I left and we broke up.”

“Frederick was injured, and you believed yourself to be at fault, and so you then offered him something to even you out, which he refused. He then said your ideas on reality were ‘barmy’ and then told you he no longer wished to be in a relationship with you?” Severus summarized.

“Well, he didn’t say he didn’t wanna be together anymore. It was just sorta implied, ya know?”

“I see. And before that, what did you offer him in exchange for the concussion he suffered through his own actions?”

Potter fidgeted just slightly, the only sign of his discomfort at the subject.

“I don’t remember,” he lied airily. “Suppose I told him whatever he wanted to make us even.”

“You did not offer to let him strike you?” Severus asked, allowing Potter to break their eye contact as he flushed and looked off towards the bookcases.

“Might have,” he admitted with a shrug. “I figured if he got hurt because of me then he could hurt me, just once, and we’d be even.”

“Though I can see how you arrived at the conclusion, your thoughts process is illogical,” Severus said lightly. “You were not directly responsible for Frederick’s injuries and thus owed him nothing. Also-“ Severus slowly held up a single finger when Potter opened his mouth the interrupt. “You should never be in a relationship with a person who accepts any offers to strike you, no matter how stubbornly you may have offered it.”

“I-“ Potter shifted in his seat before releasing a gust of breath and moving his eyes up to the ceiling. “I told him we could... you know... instead but he didn’t want that either. He didn’t want me,” he tacked on in a quiet tone.

There it was. Potter believed Frederick refusing to have some sort of revenge sex with him was indicative of Frederick’s level of desire towards him. Which was terribly pitiable, but not unexpected given Potter’s overall level of self-confidence.

“Which was for the best, because I would have ended his life had he accepted your offer,” Severus said truthfully. “Harry, you never need to offer your own body in any way to rectify a mistake to someone.”

Potter clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders.

“I didn’t have anything else to offer, did I?” he said, sounding as if he were grinding his teeth. “So... so I said we could do that and he said no. Then he called me barmy.”

“He called you barmy or said that the idea of intercourse as a trade for his injury was barmy?”

“What’s the difference?” Potter shrugged.

“The difference is that you yourself are not disturbing to Frederick, but the idea that he would want to have intercourse with you as a way to get even was disturbing to him.”

“Exactly!” Potter smacked Severus’ desk and glared at him. “So he thinks sex with me is disturbing!”

Jesus Christ, why had he not forced Black to handle this?

Because he would have made a mess of it.

Not that you’re doing much better.

“Harry, I am quite confident that Frederick is (Dear God) sexually attracted to you. But he does not want to explore that particular attraction unless you are consenting and willing. The idea that he would have intercourse with you just because you felt you owed it to him was disturbing to him.”

“Why?”

“Because people should never participate in any sexual encounter if they are not fully consenting. Ever.”

“I was consenting, I offered didn’t I?” Potter stuck his chin out stubbornly.

“You offered because you mistakenly believed you owed him something, not because you actually wanted to have intercourse with him,” Severus pointed out. “That is not true consent.”

“What is then?!” Potter sounded slightly frantic. Which was to be expected. If Potter believed he had consented to all previous sexual encounters he had, then he was not a victim.

And if Severus could raise the dead, he would merrily skip to Godric’s Hallow and happily raise James Potter from his grave to have this conversation with his son. He would track down Pettigrew himself and reunite the Merlin damned ‘Marauders’ if it meant that he was not the one having to do this.

“True consent is when you wish to participate in any level of sexual activity due to absolutely nothing more than mutual desire,” Severus explained gently. “If there is any other reason at all that you are engaging in the act, then it is not consent.”

Potter sat back in his chair and stared down in his lap, his brows were furrowed and he was tapping his foot irritably.

“So... so... if I offered to... you know... and it wasn’t because I wanted us to be even, you reckon Fred would’ve said yeah?”

“Harry, Frederick is a teenage boy. If the Giant Squid made him a true consenting offer I believe he would have said yes,” Severus said drily, hoping to draw a grin from Potter.

Which he did, even if it was rather faint.

“Don’t suppose the Giant Squid’s as charming as I am though, is it?” Potter asked.

“The Giant Squid’s charms are so elevated you could hardly hope to ever compete,” Severus stuck his nose up pretentiously. Potter laughed lightly and relaxed back in his chair.

“How do I make things even with Fred then?” he asked, leagues more relaxed now.

“Relationships are a partnership. There is no need to keep a scorecard with your partner.” Severus was suddenly struck with the perfect analogy. “Do you recall when we incapacitated the Death Eater with the clay knives last night? You transformed the rocks, I had the wind blow them in to his legs, then you wrapped him in rope before I stunned him and moved him to the side?”

“Yeah,” Potter’s eyes sparkled with what Severus could only describe as joy. Trust Potter to look so joyous at such a violent memory. “That was brill, wasn’t it?”

“I would hardly call it ‘brill’, but it was an excellent example of being partners,” Severus stressed. “You cast two spells while I cast three, but we were not uneven in accomplishing our goal together, were we?”

“No,” Potter waved his hand. “We were a team, even though you said we weren’t.”

“But that is exactly it,” Severus leaned forward in his chair, hoping to drive the point home in Potter’s mind. “We did not keep score because we were partners in that moment. When you are part of a team there is no need to keep score.”

Potter blinked owlishly at him for a moment, processing his words.

“So... you’re saying that I don’t have to owe Fred anything, and he doesn’t owe me anything, because we were a team?”

It was an extremely simplistic view of a relationship, but sufficient for the moment.

“Precisely.”

“But he broke up with me,” Potter said. “So I guess this doesn’t really matter much now, does it?”

“This conversation is not exclusive to only Frederick,” Severus told him. “It counts for any partner you may have in your lifetime. But- I do not believe Frederick wished for your relationship to end. There will be disagreements, knowing you there will be many disagreements, but unless someone explicitly says they wish to end the relationship then you should not just assume it.”

Potter squinted at him, as if trying to puzzle together a particularly difficult equation.

“I don’t get it,” he said slowly, his brows drawn down in a show of confusion, but a hopeful lilt in his voice. “What, you- you think Fred still wants to be with me?”

“I am certain of it,” Severus said.

“Brill,” Potter grinned rather shyly. Which was quite endearing on the turbulent child. “Is it my turn now? Gonna tell me what my mum did?”

Severus leaned back in his chair and smirked at him.

“Let me tell you the story of the time your mother decided that Petunia was irritating enough to warrant an everlasting acne jinx...”

Severus may fail in many ways as a guardian, but when Potter stopped by his office the next afternoon to inform him he was going to Diagon Alley, hand in hand with Frederick Weasley, with a shy grin on his face- Severus thought perhaps he was not doing as badly as he thought he was.

The remainder of their summer passed by peacefully enough. Theodore and Potter resumed their incredibly irksome game of bringing their partners to breakfast with cheeky smiles and taunting innuendos. Severus buried himself in his research and planning for the upcoming school year. Potter wore his Quidditch Captain’s badge on his jumper until Granger called him a pretentious twit. Lupin informed him that he had finally come across the term Manic-Depressive Illness in one of his classes and believed Potter met the diagnostic criteria. All in all, there were much worse ways to spend the last month of the holidays.

Which is why Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore ruined it when he called for a Hogwarts staff meeting a week before term to announce the return of the Triwizard Tournament.

Chapter Text

George elbowed Fred lightly in the side and gestured to a familiar messy black head of hair off to the side of the usual crowd on the platform.

“OOOOH HARRY DARLING!” Fred wrapped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loudly as he could, drawing more than a few pairs of eyes in his direction. He only cared about one pair though. One green eyed pair on a face that was suddenly beet red and quickly making its way towards him.

“He’s going to kill you,” Bill chuckled beside him.

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” George jumped in with. “See the plan is for Fred to drive poor Harry completely batty and then he snaps and kills him.”

“Ten galleons that Harry kills Fred before Fred graduates then,” Charlie said with a grin.

Fred reckoned that if any of his brothers knew how powerful Harry was, besides Ron, it would be Charlie. He’d been surprised when Charlie actually grabbed Harry, trying to hold him back from joining Snape in the fight at the Cup and Harry knocked him out with a single touch of his arm.

Fred would have warned Charlie if he knew what the mad bastard was planning on doing. He doubted if it ever really worked out in anyone’s favor when they just went grabbing at Harry.

“Nobody’d be dim enough to take that bet,” Ron snorted at Charlie.

“What bet?” Harry asked, finally breaking through the crowd to them.

“If you’ll kill me or not my Northern Star,” Fred grinned. “George and Charlie reckon you will and Ronnie here was saying you definitely will.”

“Oh,” Harry looked nervously at Charlie before shrugging and stepping closer to Fred. “I wasn’t planning on it but anything could happen, yeah?”

“It just wouldn’t be real if my life wasn’t in danger,” Fred joked, wiping a fake tear from his eye before putting his arm securely around Harry. He didn’t know why Harry was scared of Charlie, because he was sure now that’s what it was, but if Harry wanted Fred to play the knight in shining armor in the moment then he gladly would.

“Boys! You need to get moving- oh! Hello Harry dear,” their mum came bustling up, towing Ginny along beside her. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” Harry said. He was still a little stiff around Fred’s parents, but at least he wasn’t calling his mum ‘ma’am’ anymore.

“Are you looking forward to going back to school?” she asked kindly.

Fred was pretty sure his mum was convinced Harry didn’t have anyone in his life that was nice to him. The way she’d ramble on sometimes; ’And I read how his relatives hated him- hated him! And I’m not saying Severus isn’t a perfectly adequate professor, but a parent? Does he even know how to raise a child?!’

It was ridiculous. Snape was mad about Harry.

Thankfully Bill jumped in before Harry had to answer.

“I bet he is, I bet he knows just how exciting this year’s going to be, don’t you Harry?” he grinned in a way that Fred only slightly bristled at. Bill was a bloody flirt. And sure enough, Harry’s cheeks turned just the slightest shade of pink.

Merlin. His own sister and brother? A bloke can’t trust anyone anymore.

“It’s gonna be brill,” Harry said, a small smirk on his face now. A secret smirk. A secret Slytherin smirk that Fred absolutely needed to know what it meant.

“What’s happening this year?” Ron asked.

“Secret,” Harry said.

“Why’s it gonna be brill?” George asked.

“Because secrets usually are,” Bill added, winking at Harry.

“Are you going to tell us then?” Fred asked Harry, pulling him towards himself just the slightest bit.

Bloody Bill.

“He can’t,” Charlie said. “It’s supposed to be-“

“Yup, as soon as we get in a compartment with everyone,” Harry interrupted Charlie as if he hadn’t even spoken. “I don’t wanna say it twice. You ready?”

Fred and George both laughed. Harry was a riot. Even if it was at Charlie’s expense.

“Let’s do it my Chocolate Bertie Bean,” Fred said after giving his mum a quick hug. Harry scowled at him, which Fred expected. Harry really only ever liked to be called ‘Darlin’’, even if he didn’t admit it.

“Lead the way!” George cried.

“You guys aren’t seriously sitting with us are you?” Ron groaned.

“Course they are,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t wanna repeat myself? C’mon, we can kick their arses at cards later.”

Ron looked significantly more cheerful at the thought. Which was adorable because Fred and George would absolutely wipe the floor with Harry and his friends.

“Wish we had some money to bet,” George murmured darkly from beside him.

“We’ll get it,” Fred said more confidently than he felt. “With the wreckage from the Cup, I bet he’s just slammed. We’ll write him again tomorrow.”

George gave him a skeptical look that shared Fred’s own thoughts on the matter. Bagman had to know he gave them leprechaun gold. But either way, the damage was done and he owed them almost 1400 Galleons.

By the time Fred had gotten home from Harry’s house, and his mum quit babying him, George was pale faced and said it all had disappeared. They’d wrote to Bagman twice since then, but never got a reply.

But he had to remain optimistic about it. If not then it meant they’d lost it all. Every last coin they’d carefully saved and grown for their dream. And- and Fred didn’t know what they would do in that case.

Better to hope for best case scenario.

“Harry, mate, there isn’t possibly room for all of us in here,” Ron said, stopping dead in the compartment entrance and staring around at the already packed area.

“Er...” Harry ruffled the back of his hair nervously and glanced around at the packed area. “Fuck.”

Fred snorted and stepped around Ron.

“Scoot,” he said cheerfully to Susan who was saving Harry ‘his spot’. She growled at him a bit, but she was a possessive twit when it came to Harry, so Fred ignored her and wedged himself in Harry’s seat.

“Plenty of room here,” he grinned, waggling his brows as he patted his legs.

“I don’t think so,” Harry scoffed, blushing adorably again.

Much more adorably since it was Fred causing it this time.

“I’ll sit down here,” Lue offered, sliding from her seat to the floor and smiling over at George. “You can have my seat. The floor’s more comfortable anyway.”

“Well in that case,” George plopped down on the floor beside her. “Ronnie can sit there and I’ll just join you on this incredibly comfortable floor.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Lue said airily. “But there are studies that say that firm seating is better for keeping your mind sharp.”

“I would never make fun of you Luna Lovegood,” George cried theatrically. “The keeper of the nargles? Never!”

“He means he knows Harry would curse him if he dared,” Zabini drawled from his spot beside Theo.

“He would,” Lue said with a simple but smug smile.

Fred was sure he would. Harry was crazy about Lue. Fred couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was like Lue and Harry just got each other. Lue had been the first person Harry sent out of the tent the night of the World Cup. He’d just jumped out of their bed and ordered Mavis to take Lue straight to his house.

It made Fred jealous still, because he wanted to get Harry in the way Lue seemed to. But she’d known him longer. Fred would catch up.

“Are you going to stand up the whole way or come sit on me? It’s really not fair that Hermione and Theo are the only ones cuddling. But we can put Ronnie on Malfoy’s lap if it makes you feel better,” Fred grinned at Harry who was still hesitating in the doorway.

“You certainly will not!” Malfoy said.

“I’d pay to see that,” Susan laughed.

“Fiiiine,” Fred sighed dramatically over at Harry. “I suppose you should sit here and I’ll just worship you from the floor, shall I?” he winked so Harry knew he was just teasing. Sometimes Harry didn’t seem to know he was being teased. Fred doubted if there was anyone who ever did it much before they got together.

Which was sad. But Fred was more than willing to make up for it now. He thought Harry seemed to like it in the same way he liked being called darlin’.

“Thanks,” Harry grinned at him and Fred felt that lame fluttery feeling in his stomach at it. Harry didn’t grin like that at anyone else, it was just the crinkly eyed one that Fred got.

And Merlin was he relieved to see it still. He’d worried after the whole ‘hey Harry your ideas are barmy’ incident that he’d never get that grin aimed in his direction again. He knew Snape said he’d talk to Harry about what happened but...

But Snape didn’t seem to like him much so can you blame a guy for worrying?

~~~

Fred had floo’d over to Harry’s place the day after he talked to Snape and Sirius and was relieved to find Harry was in his room alone.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway and trying to seem casual. “Can we talk?”

Harry, who had been laying across a sofa Fred helped Theo put in his bedroom at the beginning of the summer, shrugged and sat up. “Alright,” he agreed.

Fred walked over and sat on one end of the sofa, opposite of Harry and watched a little sadly as Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. Fred hated to see him close up like that. Like he thought Fred was going to hurt him.

Of course Harry always seemed like he was waiting on people to hurt him. But ever since Fred had started sneaking over and spending the nights with him when he could trick his mum in to thinking he was at Lee’s, it had gotten better. He didn’t want Harry to close up around him again.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said immediately. George had told him to ‘play it cool’, but George was an idiot and didn’t know Harry like Fred did. Harry was like a human bullshit detector. Fred wasn’t going to be anything but straightforward.

“For what?”

“For the other night.” Fred rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He still hadn’t figured out how he’d cocked it up that night, but he knew he had. Harry’s mind just didn’t work like everyone else’s. Which was brilliant most of the time because he’d be boring otherwise, but that night it had been frustrating and then, when Fred thought about it in his own bed later, it had been sad.

Fred didn’t know a lot about relationships, but he knew that Harry offering to let Fred hit him or sleep with him to make them even wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal. It was sad. And it made Fred want to break things when he thought too hard about why Harry thinks that way.

Harry cleared his throat lightly and looked down at where his feet were covered by the rainbow quilt he uses every night.

“I apologize too.”

“Harry, you don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have said your ideas were barmy. I just-“ Fred took a deep breath, he knew he had to say this even if it made Harry upset because he didn’t want Harry to get the wrong idea again. “I don’t want to hurt you, ever. I didn’t get why you said that stuff and I didn’t want to have sex with you because you felt bad. And I definitely didn’t want to hit you.”

Harry twisted his lips up, Fred was pretty sure it meant that he was thinking about something hard. Either that or he was trying not to cry. Fred wasn’t entirely sure. He just hoped he’d get a chance to get to know all of Harry’s many facial expressions.

“I thought you were mad, because you got hurt, and I figured you blamed me. So I just thought... I thought maybe if you hurt me back then we’d be even. Then neither of us would be mad and we could go on like normal.”

Harry had offered Fred ways he could hurt him back because... because Harry thought sex was supposed to hurt?

Fred slowly scooted a little closer to Harry. He didn’t want to spook him, because Harry spooked easy, but he wanted to be closer to him too. He just sounded so confused and sad.

“Harry... I’m not going to ask you anything because I don’t want you to think you have to answer. But I’m just gonna say something important, okay?”

Harry was still looking at his feet but he shrugged his shoulder so Fred went ahead.

Never let it be said that Fred wasn’t a Gryffindor.

“I don’t want you to offer me sex as a way to hurt you. I want us to eventually do that because you want to. Also, it’s not supposed to hurt Harry. It’s supposed to feel good, you know? D’you think my parents would’ve had seven kids if it hurt?” he grinned a little, trying to make Harry stop looking so sad.

“That’s gross Fred,” he said, not quite smiling but not looking as lost now either. “I don’t want to hear about your parents having sex.”

“And I never want to talk about it again either,” Fred shuddered. “Blegh.”

Harry let out a soft little chuckle at that and Fred mentally patted himself on the back on a job well done.

“I like you Harry,” he said softly. “A lot.”

Harry looked up at him and his eyes were so bloody green and hopeful that Fred thought his stomach was doing a somersault.

“Yeah?”

He loved him. He was certain that he was madly in love with this bloke. He’d thought so the night Harry passed out drunk on his shoulder. Then again after the Quidditch match when Harry so softly told him about his dreams to be a professional seeker one day.

But during that battle, right up until Fred had been stunned, it was all he could think. Harry had looked so confident, so strong, and just brilliant as he barked out orders to the other students that Fred wondered how they hadn’t all fallen in love with him in that moment.

But he wasn’t going to tell Harry that just yet. Harry wasn’t ready to hear it.

“Yeah.” Fred slid his hand across the middle cushion towards Harry, an open invite if he wanted it.

“Snape said you’d still wanna be together,” Harry said eyeing Fred’s hand now. “D-do you?”

“Yes,” Fred said confidently. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things, and Harry was a bloody mystery, but Fred wanted to be with him. He knew that much.

Harry took one of his arms off his legs and reached out for Fred’s hand. He smiled so sweetly at him and Fred positively beamed. He had about fifty billion questions, and he knew there were a lot of things they’d have to figure out, but at least Harry still wanted to to do it together.

~~~

“Alright, you guys wanna hear something brill?” Harry asked everyone after they finally settled in to their seats. Fred slowly leaned back against Harry’s legs and grinned when Harry hesitantly started playing with his hair.

Their first fight was worth it if it meant that Harry was a little more comfortable with touching each other now.

“Oh me first!” Malfoy cried, bouncing in his seat next to Ron eagerly. “My father said that Hogwarts is hosting-“

“The Triwizard Tournament,” Harry interrupted, smirking at Malfoy’s pout. “Snape told us-“ he gestured to Theo, “as soon as Dumbledore told him.”

“Are you-“

“Serious?” Fred and George said, sharing an eager look between them. The Triwizard Tournament had a huge prize for the winner back when the schools held it.

A prize big enough to more than make up for their money Bagman owed them.

“No his godfather is,” Theo said with a roll of his eyes. Hermione smacked him in the head and Fred grinned at them both. The bossy little bookworms were growing on him.

“Snape said that Dumbledore’s put an age limit on it though.” Fred didn’t need to look up to know that Harry was scowling. “But I reckon we can find a way around it.”

“Absolutely not!” Hermione screeched, dropping Fred’s view of her instantly. “Harry- it’ll be dangerous!”

“Oooh nooo,” Zabini drawled. “Harry doing something dangerous? That sounds terribly unlike him.”

Everyone, including Hermione, laughed at that. Fred had only heard a handful of Harry’s stories since he started Hogwarts, but he knew he was no stranger to danger.

Which, again, was so bloody hot that Fred thought he might die. Even if it also made Fred panic a bit because how often does one guy get in so many life threatening situations at a school?!

“What’d’ya reckon Georgie? Think we should enter and give Harry some competition?” Fred asked his brother, nudging him with his foot.

“Absolutely, can’t let little Harry take all the glory can we?” George said back solemnly before grinning at Harry.

Fred could feel Harry tensing up beneath where he had his back and head on him and peeked up at his expression. He’d learned quickly that Harry didn’t always say much about how he was feeling, actually Harry never said what he was feeling, but his eyes usually did.

And his eyes were staring at Fred’s head and looked absolutely frantic.

“Er, I mean, you guys wouldn’t be a team anyway, right?” Harry said slowly. “So... so maybe just George and I could enter.”

George started cracking up with laughter, Lue laughing right along beside him.

“You- you just want to keep Fred safe,” he said between chuckles. “Merlin. I’m dispensable!”

“Don’t worry, Harry probably doesn’t want you to die, he just definitely doesn’t want Fred to,” Lue said, in what was probably supposed to be a consoling voice.

“I think it would be wicked to enter,” Ron said wistfully. “How many people d’you think they’ll have?”

“It’s the Triwizard Tournament, how many do you think?” Malfoy scoffed.

“Oh.” Ron’s ears turned red like they always did when he was embarrassed. “Oh yeah.”

“I don’t think any of us should enter,” Hermione said again. “It must be really dangerous if Dumbledore thinks they need an age restriction.”

“Well Dumbledore’s an idiot, isn’t he? How bad could it be if they’re having it in a school?” Neville said, piping up for the first time. “And I doubt it’ll stop Harry from trying, will it?”

“Hear, hear Nev,” Harry grinned over towards where Neville was seated by the door. “I’m definitely entering. Already told Snape, didn’t I?”

“What’d he say?” Malfoy asked.

“He said,” Harry cleared his throat before adopting a bloody good impression of Snape’s drawling voice. “‘If I discover that you have entered yourself in this tournament I will ground you for the rest of your life. And then your mother will ground you in the afterlife.’”

Everyone laughed again. Snape was an alright person, didn’t really get worked up about much. Harry could probably enter the tournament and Snape would just cross his arms and glare at him, like he usually did to Fred when he’d come downstairs after sleeping in Harry’s bed all night.

Plus he’d done Fred a huge favor with whatever talk he had with Harry about him. So Snape was decent enough.

“But he said the same thing when I killed that basilisk so I figure it’s just talk,” Harry said. “So I’m entering.”

“Me too,” George added.

“Me three!” Ron said quickly.

Fred looked up at Harry, who had gone from slowly stroking his hair to gripping it almost too tightly as he stared down at him.

“I don’t think I will,” Fred said, looking Harry right in the eyes as he said it. “If you or George win you can just split the gold with me, alright?” he winked at Harry again and felt him relax beneath his back.

“Deal,” Harry said, now resuming his hesitant strokes of Fred’s hair.

After that George took off quick to go find Lee and Fred waved him off. He usually spent all his time with his brother, but once they got back to Hogwarts he’d be separated from Harry by the sheer bad luck of being in separate houses and different years.

He knew he would one day regret turning down the Sorting Hat’s offer to put him in Slytherin.

Instead, the ten of them played a card game Harry’s friends all liked, a muggle game called Texas Hold ‘Em that Theo and Hermione taught Fred over the summer.

Lue offended Harry when she immediately partnered with Zabini.

“She only partners with whoever is going to win,” he grumbled. “I hate losing.”

“We aren’t going to lose,” Susan told him, having jumped to partner with Harry before Fred could. “The nargles might be wrong this time.”

“The nargles are never wrong,” Neville, Ron, and Harry said at the same time. Which set off another round of laughter.

Fred relaxed as he partnered up with Ron and made an excuse for why he wasn’t betting. Train rides spent scheming and planning with Lee and George were great, but playing cards and having Harry play with his hair was definitely the best train ride yet.

He was so content he didn’t even mind when Harry leaned forward and whispered in his ear:

“I can see your cards.”

“Are you seriously leaving me to sit with Ronnie?” George groaned.

“Nope. I’m leaving you to sit with Harry,” Fred grinned at his twin as they entered the Great Hall. “You can come sit there.”

“Nah-“ George had just spotted Angelina and took on a lovesick expression that Fred sorely hoped his own face never had. “See ya later.”

Fred laughed and headed over to the Slytherin table where he had shockingly made himself at home at towards the end of last year.

“I don’t see any new Professor’s anywhere,” Susan was saying when Fred took a seat across from Harry.

“Maybe Dumbledore couldn’t find anyone brave enough to fill the spot,” Zabini grinned. “Harry’s what, three for three now?”

“Shut it Blaise,” Theo said coolly.

“If Dumbledore takes over the subject I will kill you Harry James,” Susan said.

“He won’t,” Lue said confidently. “The new Professor will be here soon.”

“Snape offered to teach it but Dumbledore turned him down,” Harry scowled. “He said he already filled the spot.”

Neville didn’t say anything, but Fred saw him let out a little huff of relief. Poor Neville, the bloke was terrified of Snape. Which was barmy, because Snape was a laugh when you got past all the sneers and insults.

They all quieted down while the sorting went on. Fred whooped loudly for every new Gryffindor, Harry’s laughs spurning him on despite the glares from the older Slytherin’s.

Harry’s friends were good company really. Fred could see how Harry got so attached. During the feast Fred joked around with Zabini, who was almost as mischievous as Fred himself was. He also thought it was funny that little Ronnie and Malfoy seemed to be co-conspirators in some sort of Slytherin betting ring. Which explained how Ron’s been buying all his school supplies himself.

‘Chess tournament winnings’, his arse.

He also watched as Susan slipped extra food on Harry’s plate when he wasn’t paying attention. Maybe the witch wasn’t so bad after all.

After the puddings had been cleared, Dumbledore got to his feet and cleared his throat, effectively silencing the entire hall.

“So! Now that we have all been fed and watered to our stomachs content! I am afraid I must bore you with my standard warnings.”

Fred caught George’s eye across the hall and grinned as Dumbledore mentioned all the things that were banned. Most of them weren’t banned in their first year, which was probably something Fred would mention on a resume one day if Bagman didn’t answer their bloody owls.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

“What?” Harry yelped. Fred felt his heart sink on Harry’s behalf. He was so bloody proud of that captains badge on his chest. Fred hadn’t even taken the mickey out of him over it once he explained how he’d worked hard for the spot and applied so he could get it fairly. He hadn’t thought of how Quidditch might be cancelled because of the tournament. He glanced up at the Head Table and saw Snape’s stricken look that told him he hadn’t considered it either.

Dumbledore went on, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —”

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

Fred turned his head to see who was coming in so late to the feast that he missed the way that Harry had leapt to his feet and had his knife tight in his hand.

”Sit.” Fred heard Susan whisper, he turned back and saw Harry was slowly resuming his seat and staring carefully at the new arrival.

They all watched silently as the stranger clomped up to the Head Table. He was without a doubt the most damaged looking man Fred had ever seen. Harry’s scars were sexy, made him look dangerous, but they were coupled with the most beautiful features Fred had ever seen. This man? He was scarred in a way that just screamed ‘DANGER!’

Fred had a niggling thought that the man looked familiar. There was something about the dizzying fake blue eye...

The man spoke to Dumbledore in a whisper for a moment before Dumbledore nodded with a small smile and gestured to the open seat at the table. The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was fixed on Harry. Who, Fred was surprised to see, was staring the man down with a blank look on his face

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped. Fred was busy watching the bizarre stare off between his boyfriend and the new Professor to really notice it though.

“Moody?” Ron hissed down the table to Fred. “Mad-Eye Moody? The one dad went to help this morning?”

“Must be,” Fred whispered back finally realizing where he recognized the man from.

“But he’s mad,” Susan whispered harshly. “Auntie says-“

They weren’t able to find out what Susan’s Aunt Amelia said though, because Dumbledore cleared his throat and commanded their attention again.

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” Fred yelled loudly, winking cheekily at Snape who scowled at Harry.

Most of the hall laughed, even Dumbledore. Harry just rolled his eyes, but he had a fond smile playing around the edges of his mouth now that made Fred puff up with pride.

“I am not joking Mister Weasley, though I did hear an excellent one this summer about a troll, a hag, and a goblin who went in to a pub-“

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, which wasn’t surprising. Poor witch had no appreciation for a well timed joke.

“No, perhaps this is not the time...” Dumbledore cleared his throat before smiling out to the students again. “Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

Fred definitely let his attention wander. He took the chance to nudge Harry under the table with his foot.

“Please stop playing footsie with me,” Susan said sweetly. “I’m afraid you’re not quite my type.”

“Not blonde enough for you?” Fred laughed, glancing towards the Hufflepuff table towards Johnny who was sitting with a few of his own friends.

“Blondes are better in almost every way,” Malfoy said with a Percy-like air.

“I agree,” Lue smiled at Malfoy.

“Oi! Harry! Didnt you say Krum goes to Durmstrang?”

“Yeah.”

Fred looked between his brother and Harry and wondered what he’d missed.

“Huh?”

Hermione scoffed at him. “If you would listen, Dumbledore said that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are the competing schools. And he also said there was a death toll.”

Harry waved his hand casually, Fred could practically see that stars in his eyes as he listened carefully to Dumbledore’s speech about the tournament. Fred tuned back in just in time to hear there was a thousand galleons prize money.

He turned his head across the hall to meet his brothers eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing.

A thousand galleons would be more than enough to get their shop off the ground.

Go for it, he thought towards George.

Call it Twin powers or what have you, but George nodded eagerly, perfectly understanding what Fred was thinking.

“An impartial judge won’t care about age limits,” Zabini said. “They’ll just care about power. Harry you could do it.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ try,” Harry said. “This is brill.”

“George and I will be seventeen in April, I reckon that’s close enough,” Fred said eagerly.

“A thousand galleons would be amazing,” Ron said. Fred felt a rare sense of sympathy for his little brother. It was hard coming from such a big family when funds were always so tight. He didn’t blame Ron for seeing a big payoff and wanting it for himself.

But there was also no chance little Ronnie would get picked.

“My gran would probably want me to try and enter,” Neville said glumly.

“You don’t owe her anything Neville,” Luna said kindly. “You should do what makes you happy. And this wouldn’t make you happy.”

“Come on,” said Hermione, “we’ll be the only ones left here if we don’t move.”

Their group made their way to their feet and gave the obligatory whistles when Hermione and Theo kissed before Hermione and Luna ran off towards the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Should I kiss you in front of everyone or just say ‘see you at breakfast’?” Fred grinned at Harry, only partially teasing.

“Oh.” Harry looked surprised and maybe a little upset before he blinked and had on what Fred had deemed his ‘I’m too Slytherin to show emotions’ mask. “‘Kay. Nevermind then... Night.”

Fred had no idea what he’d done wrong to make Harry abruptly turn and make his way to the dungeons so coolly. He was still standing outside the Great Hall, completely confused, before Theo scoffed at him.

“Harry owns an Invisibility Cloak.”

“Yeah...?”

Susan rolled her eyes and pushed Fred towards the dungeons.

“He told Luna that she couldn’t stay in his room because you probably would want to, idiot.”

Oh.

Oh!

Fred smiled at Susan, feeling genuine appreciation swell up towards her again.

“Cheers Sue, g’night then.”

Fred had almost caught up to Harry when Susan yelled down the corridor, “DON’T CALL ME ‘SUE’ FREDERICK!”

Fred just flipped her off behind his back as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist.

“How mad d’you reckon Snape will be if I sleep in your dorm sometimes?” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Wanna find out?” Harry grinned wickedly up at him.

Merlin. He was a goner.

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over Fred’s head before they entered the common room.

“Nobody’ll say anything once Snape leaves and the duels start, but stay under there until then, yeah?”

Fred had no idea what duels Harry meant, but he agreed all the same.

If Slytherin had some sort of secret dueling club then Fred might just demand a resort like Ginny did.

He stayed against the far wall of the common room, which was so bloody different from Gryffindor he couldn’t even imagine they were in the same castle, while Snape gave his speech.

Which was a riot. Snape made sure to mention how Sirius Black had been an accused muggle murderer only to find out that Peter Pettigrew, another Gryffindor, had allegedly committed the crime.

Snape really hated Black. Fred figured it was one of the reasons Black was so cheerful towards him all the time. It clearly drove Snape bonkers.

Fred waited for Snape to finish his speech before he slipped the cloak off and walked right back up by Harry.

“What now Darlin’?”

“Weasley!” one of Fred’s yearmates, Jeffery Brandstetter, scowled. “You can’t be here.”

“He can,” Harry said calmly.

Fred was impressed to see that nobody even argued at that. Just two little words from one of the scrawniest guys in the house and they all shut right up.

“You’re terrifying,” Fred bent down and murmured right in Harry’s ear. “Just absolutely fearsome.”

“Shut up,” Harry scowled but he also looked pleased too. Fred just winked at him while Rachel Shields, a seventh year girl with a shiny prefects badge on her chest, walked to the front of the still standing Slytherins.

“Listen up you lot! Anyone who doesn’t want to duel should leave now.”

Ron and Malfoy had their heads bent together and were whispering over a piece of parchment while Theo and Blaise murmured quietly to each other. Fred just watched Harry’s excitement grow as a few little snakes made their way to the stairs Fred assumed leads to the dorms.

“Alright, most of you know the rules: no killing anyone-“ she gave a severe kind of look at Harry who just looked up Fred and shrugged. “Unforgivables are forgiven. Apparently nobody is off limits,” she sighed again in Harry’s direction.

“Fred is,” Harry interrupted her, looking around the room slowly. “He isn’t a Slytherin. You don’t challenge him or you duel me.”

Fred would have been embarrassed at being protected by his younger boyfriend but Harry was hot when he was being protective.

A few Slytherin’s scowled at Fred, but nobody argued with Harry so Rachel went on.

“If you refuse a duel then you’re a coward and we have no use for you. Conflicts are finished after tonight, I don’t want to hear any whinging afterwards. Seconds are volunteer only. Everyone understand?”

Fred glanced around, bemused, as the Slytherin’s nodded and murmured agreements.

Lucky Slytherin’s with their secret dueling nights.

“Alright then, first challenger?”

Ron and Malfoy’s heads popped up and started scanning the room eagerly.

“We challenge Potter.”

Fred looked up as two girls in his year, Hestia and Flora Carrow, stepped forward.

Harry squinted at the two girls.

“Sorry do I know you?”

Which was so bloody hilarious that Fred hugged him with his arm for a moment. Only Harry Potter could get away with not knowing someone’s name who wanted to fight him.

“I don’t believe it matters much,” the heavier girl, Flora, sneered. “I’d actually prefer you not know our names. I don’t want to hear them come out of your mudblood mouth.”

Fred stiffened at the insult, but he was surprised to see Harry smile at the girl.

It wasn’t a nice smile. But Fred still expected something a bit more rude ag the obvious insult.

“I accept your challenge,” Harry said calmly. “Let the better parentage win, yeah?”

“Oh he’s going to kill them,” Malfoy murmured.

“Let’s go make some bets on it,” Ron laughed before the two of them scattered through the crowd.

“Potter, who’s your second?” Rachel called.

Harry looked straight at Theo who nodded curtly.

“I’m his second,” he said.

“I’ll be theirs,” another sixth year girl, Gabriel Wagler, said quietly as she stepped closer to the Carrow twins.

“Hey can you... can you wait for me? I usually just duel once then I’m done.” Harry blinked up at Fred so innocently it made it a little difficult for Fred to picture him dueling two nasty girls that were twice his size.

“Course I’ll wait,” Fred smiled softly at him. “You can take care of yourself, right?”

Harry shrugged and his eyes looked mischevious as he leaned up and whispered in Fred’s ear.

“It’d probably be easier if I had a kiss for luck.”

Fred was so surprised by Harry subtly asking for a kiss that he let out a low chuckle before obliging.

“Your wish, my command.” He pulled Harry to him with an arm behind his back and bent him backwards while he kissed him theatrically.

“Good luck,” he murmured genuinely after he stood a pink cheeked Harry up and squeezed him gently once more.

“Disgusting,” Hestia spat.

“Oi-“

“Don’t embarrass him Weasley,” Zabini hissed, pulling Fred away from Harry. “Does he seem like he needs your help?”

Fred looked at Harry as the other students made a wide circle around him and had to admit that no, he didn’t. Harry looked like bored even as the Carrow twins murmured and shot dirty looks at him.

“Ready?” Rachel called, erecting an impressive shield bubble around the three of them.

Harry grinned and, in what might have been the hottest thing Fred had ever witnessed in his life, stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Ready,” he drawled lazily, sounding so much like his guardian that Fred wondered if Snape gave him ‘how to talk like a Slytherin’ lessons or if Harry was just a natural.

The Carrow twins drew their wands and aimed them at Harry in identically stiff dueling poses.

Fred was... mostly... not worried. Harry had kicked his arse when him and George had duelled him and looked brilliant while he did it.

Even if the Carrow’s had a darker reputation than he or George did, he was sure they wouldn’t be a real threat to Harry.

“Go.”

If Fred had blinked he would have missed Hestia’s first curse, an impressively silent one, that flew right past Harry’s left ear.

He definitely didn’t miss the next four that were aimed at him back to back though. Harry just spun out of the way of each one, his hands still casually in his pockets.

If Fred hadn’t been in love with him before, he sure was now.

Fred didn’t want to sound like a sap, but Harry dueling was like art come to life. He looked so strong, and fierce, and happy as he danced out of the way of the incoming curses as easily as if he were waltzing.

“You guys suck,” he laughed.

Laughed.

Fred was the luckiest bloke to ever live.

The Carrow’s didn’t like that though. They stepped up their spell work until Harry had to take his hands out of his pockets and actually start waving them around and stopping the spells before they hit him.

“Why isn’t he hitting them back?” Fred murmured to Zabini.

“He’s showing off,” Zabini laughed. “He’s probably just putting on a show for you.”

Fred wouldn’t have thought so until Harry glanced at him and grinned before he really started duelling.

And it was beautiful.

Harry was slinging spells so quickly that Fred could hardly keep up. He only glanced at the Carrow’s occasionally, too drawn to Harry to do much more than spare them quick looks. But they looked angry. Fred doubted they were prepared for this.

“Is he always like this?” he breathed to Zabini.

“He is, it is affascinante, isn’t it?” Zabini said back. Fred had no idea what ‘affascinante’ meant, but it sounded like a compliment so he nodded dumbly.

Harry laughed as he knocked Hestia to the floor, the resounding crack of her head on the stone floor would have made Fred wince in sympathy if she hadn’t been trying to curse his boyfriend. Instead he just let out a loud cheer once he saw she was clearly unconscious. A few Slytherin’s, including Zabini, gave him disapproving looks but Fred just ignored them. He’d cheer for Harry if he wanted to.

“Can you even fight?” Harry taunted Flora. Flora let out a noise that was a mix of a growl and a yell before she waved her wand and nearly hit Harry with a dark red spell.

“Filthy, nasty, little mud-“

“That’s enough,” Harry snarled. “Let’s see...”

With nothing more than a flick of his hand Flora was shoved down to the floor on her knees.

“You think my bloods dirty, huh?” Harry asked, his voice so soft that Fred took a half step closer so he didn’t miss a single word. “Here, let’s compare.”

Fred watched in shock as Harry’s magic held Flora in place as he pointed his left finger at the back of his right hand and made a small cut.

“Looks red to me, yeah? How about yours?”

Fred nearly laughed out loud when Harry stepped right up to the girl and grabbed her wrist roughly. He yanked her wand out of her hand and tossed it to the side.

“Whoops.”

Harry had pointed his hand at Flora’s hand but instead of making a small cut like he did to his own, it looked like he had cut her clear down to the bone.

“That happens sometimes when I’m mad,” Harry said cheerfully over the loud yell Flora let out. “But- look! Your blood is red too! Sooo... I guess your dirty too then, huh?”

Fred had to be yanked backwards by Zabini when Flora spat at Harry.

Spat at him.

And what did Harry do?

Besides make Fred fall so madly in love that he thought his chest might explode from it?

He smiled.

It was so devastatingly attractive that Fred had to think of something disgusting quickly to control his reaction. He glanced down at Flora’s hand with the exposed bone and the gushing blood and felt properly grossed out.

Harry hissed something in Parsletongue (and bloody hell) and then Fred had to fight not to cover his own ears as Flora started shrieking loudly enough he was surprised the windows didn’t shatter.

“Winner- Potter!” Rachel shouted over Flora’s continued shrieks after a couple of minutes when it looked like Harry wasn’t going to stop.

Harry, who had been glaring at Flora, blinked in surprise as the safety dome was dispelled and someone yanked the twins off towards a little alcove by the window.

“Brill,” Harry shrugged and grinned. “Don’t suppose anyone else wants to fight, do they?”

“I do.”

Fred’s head snapped to the side as William Avery, a seventh year with a nasty habit of using dirty hexes on Gryffindors, stepped out of the grouping and smirked at Harry.

Zabini let out a sharp hiss.

“What?” Fred breathed.

“This was planned.”

Fred tried to puzzle that out for himself, he didn’t want to look like an idiot, when he saw Avery share a look with the newly revived Hestia.

“Harry said he usually only duels once, so... so Avery is hoping he’ll be too tired to win now?” Fred guessed.

“Exactly, and look,” Zabini very subtly nodded in Harry’s direction and Fred had to study him hard to see what Zabini was seeing.

“Bullocks,” he muttered. Harry did actually look a little worn out. He was hiding it well with the bored look on his face, but his shoulders were heaving faster than usual.

“You I definitely don’t know,” Harry said airily. “I mean I accept, but I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”

“Avery, William Avery,” Avery said with a mocking bow of his head.

“Ooh,” Harry stood up a little straighter at that. “Potter, Harry Potter. Tough luck about your Dad, yeah? Suppose he bit off a bit more than he could chew, didn’t he?”

“Severus Snape is a traitor and will get what’s coming to him,” Avery hissed, taking a step towards Harry.

“Snape’s not a traitor,” Harry laughed and Fred felt a chill go down his back. He couldn’t tell if he was so incredibly turned on or absolutely terrified. “Well, not to me anyway. But I suppose you weren’t there when your daddy died, were you?”

“And you were?” Another boy stepped up beside Avery and scoffed. William Macnair, a fifth year.

Fred had a sudden realization that yeah, Harry had actually been there, hadn’t he? They didn’t talk about what happened that night, but now Fred was wondering what went down after he’d been stunned. The news said that Snape killed Avery, a Death Eater and William’s Dad, but...

But Harry was too prideful to mock a death someone else caused. Wasn’t he?

“Harry can’t confirm or deny that, legal reasons you see?” Theo stepped up by Harry and glared at the two boys. “I don’t suppose you believe Snape was able to wandlessly kill a piece of filth like your father with the killing curse do you?” he let out a light laugh that was so clearly fake that Fred himself grinned. “Silly me. I forgot, of course that wasn’t how the news said Avery died.”

“What about your father then?” Avery snarled. “I heard your little pal here supposedly did that. You’re still going to follow the guy responsible for your fathers death?”

“I don’t remember Harry saying he killed anyone,” Zabini drawled loudly beside Fred. “Did you Draco?”

“I didn’t,” Malfoy said. “Perhaps Avery’s just realized that perhaps Harry could have killed those men and gotten away with it scot-free, or maybe he’s just an idiot.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both,” Ron added from across the room, which drew a laugh out of Harry’s odd little group of friends and quite a few other Slytherins.

Were they bragging about Harry killing Avery and Theo’s dads and getting away with it or just trying to get Avery and Macnair to think they were?

Slytherin’s were so bloody confusing.

“We should stop talking about what I might or might not have done and duel, yeah?” Harry grinned and this time Fred was absolutely both turned on and a little scared. This wasn’t Fred’s smile, or even Harry’s usual smile, this was something sharp enough to cut glass.

Merlin.

“Call your seconds,” Rachel said, sounding bored with their banter.

“I’m with Harry,” Theo said immediately.

“I’ll be Avery’s second,” Macnair offered.

“Positions then,” Rachel said.

They all moved quickly. Harry took his spot again, across from Avery, as Rachel put the shield up once more.

“Ready?”

Harry didn’t have any cheeky remarks this time, he just nodded curtly.

Fred felt a little more nerves in his chest at this duel. The Carrow’s were just idiots. But Avery was cruel and dark and he looked like he wanted to kill Harry.

“Go.”

Neither boy moved. Fred kept glancing between them, determined not to miss the first move.

“You’re supposed to bow Potter, did Snape not teach you any manners?” Avery asked.

“Can’t imagine why I’d bow to you,” Harry said. He tilted his head sideways and stared at Avery as if he were just a curious creature instead of a pissed off seventeen year old holding a wand. “I didn’t bow to your dad, did I?”

“That’s because you weren’t there,” Malfoy called.

“Oh yeah, duh.”

Fred had two thoughts chasing each other around his head in that moment;

Harry definitely killed Avery’s dad.
And- Fred Potter or Harry Weasley?

Avery kept his composure, which was actually pretty impressive since Harry was cracking jokes about killing his dad, and just smiled coldly at the mad love of Fred’s life.

”Crucio!”

Fred yelped, but it was a pointless fear that Harry would be hurt because he just dodged to the side so gracefully that Fred wasn’t even sure he was totally human.

“C’mon Willy, you have to really mean it,” Harry taunted him.

Fred wished he could see Harry like this all the time. He was so graceful, confident, strong, and happy. Even though he wasn’t moving quite as fast as he was before, this time his whole face was lit up this time with the same excitement it had when Krum caught the snitch at the World Cup and Fred had to restrain himself from snogging him senseless right in front of all their family and friends.

And he was so bloody hot that Fred was going to need a cold shower before he got in his bed tonight.

He ignored his currently unwanted reactions so he could focus on the two dueling Slytherin’s in front of him. It didn’t take a genius to know realize that they were both deadly. They were locked in a graceful type of dance throwing spells back and forth and avoiding the ones they couldn’t outright block.

Fred could admit that Avery was good. Beside his first spell, everything else had been nonverbal. While Harry moved like some sort of fairy-like God that wasn’t even human, Avery darted around like an actual venomous snake, poised and waiting for an opening to strike. An opening he found when Harry was taunting him not a moment later.

“Son of a bitch.”

Fred hadn’t realized that Ron had made his way back around the room and was swearing by his side, but he was suddenly glad he was. Avery landed a hex on Harry, a nasty one, and every person in the room heard it as it sounded like several of Harry’s ribs snapped right in half.

“Draco’s going to have to get Snape,” Zabini said quietly to Ron, who nodded absently as he chewed his nails and watched Harry. Which was insane, because if one of the Gryffindor’s went and got McGonagall after getting hurt in a duel in the common room, they’d all be expelled. Or at least in detention for the rest of their lives.

Harry, who didn’t even cry out when his actual bones had been broken, let out a sharp wheeze of a laugh.

“Pathetic,” he sneered as he sent three dark purple spells right at Avery’s face. “You’re a fuckin-“

But nobody heard what Avery was because his second crucio landed right on his target this time.

Harry let out an initial little sound of shock before he hit his knees. He threw his head back and the room was so tense it might as well have been a funeral while every student there watched Harry’s muscles straining under the curse. And through it all- Harry didn’t make a sound. His eyes were clenched shut and his mouth was twisted up in what could only be unimaginable pain- and he refused to scream.

Zabini and Ron both had to hold Fred back as he struggled to get to Harry.

“HARRY!” he yelled, not caring one whit if he was embarrassing himself or not. Harry was hurt and Fred needed to get to him.

“Aww, your blood traitor lover is upset,” Avery said, his face cold and his eyes glittering with malice as he ended the curse on Harry. Harry stayed on the ground, his breathing harsh and fast as Avery advanced on him. “How did you end up with such a piece of filth anyway? Would no other man have you? Or are you just whoring yourself out to anyone who offers?”

Harry looked up at Avery and Fred barely caught the flash of real anger in his eyes before he struck. Fred realized that Harry had a lot of anger in him, and he’d just been playing up until now. Now he was pissed.

With one swipe, Harry buried his knife clear to the hilt in Avery’s ankle before tackling his knees and knocking the taller boy right to the ground. And if Fred thought Harry looked tired and hurt- Harry clearly didn’t agree. Harry just kneeled down in the puddle of Avery’s still flowing blood and hit Avery in the face with his fist hard enough that Fred was sure he’d broken at least his nose.

“Say that again,” Harry yelled as he hit Avery over and over with just his bare fists. “C’mon, SAY THAT AGAIN.”

Avery might have two stones and at least five inches on Harry, but Fred doubted if Hagrid himself could have beat Harry in a fist fight when Harry was so vicious and angry.

Harry kept hitting Avery and never even noticed when Fred was pretty sure Avery lost consciousness. Nor when Rachel hastily declared Harry the winner and dispelled the dome. He only stopped when Theo, in a move that proved the Sorting Hat made a huge mistake in his sorting, fearlessly walked right up to Harry and lightly kicked his foot. Harry spun around and Fred’s heart clenched when he saw that Harry had blood spatters across his face.

He was pretty sure they had all came from Avery, but it still hurt to see.

“You won,” Theo said calmly as he stepped quickly away from Harry. “You can’t kill him here.”

Not: you can’t kill him.

But: you can’t kill him here.

Fred was never going to break up with Harry. Hell, Fred might just propose at his graduation, but if Harry ever left him and he moved on, in a hundred or so years, he would never date anyone aside from a Slytherin again. They were all mad little geniuses.

“Scumbag,” Harry spat at Avery. He yanked his knife out of Avery’s ankle and wiped it off on Avery’s own robes before he tucked it back in the holster Fred knows he wears on his forearm. Theo went back to his side and offered a hand up but Harry ignored it and shakily got to his own feet.

“Anyone else? Or are we done?” Harry touched eyes on every Slytherin in the room, most of them too cowed to even make eye contact, before he looked at Fred and blanched.

Theo whispered something in Harry’s ear, and Harry nodded.

“If that’s that then I’m going to bed.”

“Come on, under here,” Ron whispered as he tossed Harry’s cloak over Fred’s head once again. “Snape’s on his way.”

Fred didn’t really give a damn about Snape just then, he wanted to grab Harry and check him over and see how badly he was hurt and then maybe snog the life out of him. But he also didn’t want to get kicked out and lose a whole night by Harry’s side.

Harry staggered up the stairs, probably in horrible pain but stubbornly determined not to show it. Zabini rushed ahead and opened their dorm door.

If Fred didn’t already regret turning down the Sorting Hat’s offer to put him in Slytherin before, he sure as hell did now. Even while he kept a close eye on Harry, who almost immediately sat on his trunk and let out a loud hiss of pain, he could tell that Slytherin had the poshest dorms in the castle. It was no wonder Ronnie had been so smug about his sorting.

“Snape’s on his way to fix your bones and Fred’s under the cloak,” Ron told Harry as Theo kicked the dorm door firmly shut.

“Fred’s still here?” Harry panted. “He didn’t leave?”

“Right here Cauldron Cake,” Fred pulled his head out from under the cloak for a minute to smile reassuringly at Harry.

“Prat,” Harry grinned before hissing again and grabbing at his side. “Bloody fucking god damned hell.”

Harry’s terrible language was just another one of the many things Fred loved about him. Except he’d rather it not be shown because he was hurting. Fred yanked the cloak back in place and moved over to the wall beside Harry’s bed right as Snape strode through the door.

“Good Lord Harry,” he sighed when he saw Harry sitting on his trunk and biting his lip. “How did this even happen?”

“Harry doesn’t know when to shut up,” Zabini said with a roll of his eyes. “He was too busy taunting his opponent to properly defend himself.”

”Shut up,” Harry hissed.

“Unsurprising,” Snape murmured as he waved his wand over Harry’s head a few times in a rhythmic circular pattern. “And I suppose that Crucio is not nearly as enjoying to have cast on you as it is to cast?” he raised his brow at Harry while he read a parchment that popped up out of the air.

“You’d know,” Harry grit out. Fred thought Snape would be pissed at that remark, but he just shook his head.

“Foolish brat,” Snape sighed again but Fred didn’t miss the way his eyes were all soft and worried when he looked at Harry. “I am going to heal your ribs, exhale deeply now.”

Harry let out a deep breath and Snape tapped his side twice and murmured a spell that Fred’s heard more than enough times in his life.

“Fuck!” Harry yelped as his bones snapped back together.

“Language,” Snape smirked at him and Harry just shrugged. Harry was fearless. He would have been a brilliant Gryffindor.

Fred liked him better in green, but still.

“Are there any bodies I will need to dispose of in your common room?” Snape asked the other boys who all shared little smiles and shook their heads.

“Excellent. Go to sleep then. You all have classes tomorrow.” Snape laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder for just a brief moment before he strode to the doorway. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being out past curfew,” he called before slamming the door shut behind him.

“Bloody Hell.” Fred ripped the cloak off and flopped down on Harry’s bed. “You guys have the best Head of House ever.”

“You were brilliant darlin’,” Fred whispered to Harry behind the privacy charms in his bed that night after they’d both changed and Fred made sure Harry still wanted him to stay.

“I got hurt,” Harry said, his raspy voice the only proof he’d ever been cursed. “I wasn’t brilliant.”

“You were,” Fred insisted, wrapping his arm behind Harry’s neck and encouraging him to cuddle closer to his side. “I didn’t even know people could duel like that.”

Harry propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at Fred with nervous green eyes.

“You weren’t afraid?” he asked.

Fred thought maybe what he was really asking was ‘are you scared of me?’

“A brave lion like myself? Of course not,” Fred smiled up at him and damn if the sweet smile Harry gave him didn’t make Fred’s stomach flip right over.

Harry laid back down and slowly moved over until he was close enough to lay his head on Fred’s chest.

“I like this,” Harry said softly.

Fred stroked his fingers through Harry’s hair and smiled to himself.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

Harry’s first couple of days back at Hogwarts were not as exciting as he had hoped they would be.

He’d planned on holding Quidditch Tryouts and filling the open spots. Instead, he got told quidditch was canceled. Which made him wonder if Dumbledore did it just to ruin his first year as Captain or not. He would say it was awfully petty, even for the old man. But this was the same guy who watched Harry cry in front of a mirror when he was eleven. So he wouldn’t put it past him.

He had also planned on finding out how the Triwizard Champions would be chosen. Instead, Snape’s either ignored him or threatened him every time he’s tried asking.

All in all, not the return he had planned on having.

There was also a new tension in Slytherin that he could pick at if he wanted. A few of the older students are wary around him, but they just glared and whispered- none of them were brave enough to outright attack the Heir of Slytherin. But as long as they keep their hands and wands to themselves, they weren’t bothering Harry any. He was a far cry from the nervous first year who got jinxed in the halls, and the other Slytherins knew it now. Malfoy said the ones who glared and whispered are the students whose parents or close relatives are Death Eaters. The future Death Eaters, he called them.

Theo and Draco had been helping Harry come up with plans to recruit those students away from their parents’ paths and towards his own.

‘They think the Dark Lord promises power and prestige and a ‘purer world’, Draco explained over tea and some posh little sandwiches at his manor. ‘You have to show them that you are the power, you are the prestige.’

‘And a purer world?’ Harry asked, his brow raised, daring Draco to say that next.

‘Show them that magic is the purity,’ Theo said. ‘Muggleborn or not, magic is what makes us special and better than muggles.’

‘But wizards are tired of hiding from muggles,’ Draco waved a sandwich around to emphasize his point. ‘They’re not special like we are. Why should we hide?’

Harry thought hard about that. Why should they hide from muggles? Muggles weren’t special, weren’t strong. They were weak and ignorant and mean. Why should they hide?

‘So we recruit the Slytherin’s,’ Harry said instead. ‘Keep them from joining Timmy and get them on my side.’

‘We don’t recruit,’ Theo said with a thoughtful look. ‘We make them beg to join you.’

Harry had liked that idea quite a bit. So they started planning.

The Contessa and Susan both had different views on where the power lied in the upcoming fights.

’How many people do you think are on Dumbledore’s side?’ Susan asked one afternoon before school started. They were laying side by side on a hill behind her house lazily watching the river beneath the sun. ‘A dozen? Two dozen? More?’

‘I dunno,’ Harry said honestly. ‘Snape says Timmy and Dumbledore both have ‘inner circles’ but then they have bigger groups of people who agree with them. So it’s hard to say, isn’t it?’

‘I think we need to get them away from him,’ Susan said bluntly. ‘I know Auntie fought on his side last time, but there wasn’t a third side then, was there?’

‘Nope,’ Harry turned his head and grinned at her. ‘It’s a brand new side. Malfoy calls it the grey side.’

‘So let’s drag Dumbledore’s people to it,’ she said. ‘Start with your godfather and Lupin. They were in the Order last time, weren’t they? Make sure they won’t be again. We both know Timmy’s coming back. We have to be ready.’

So Harry wrote a letter to Black, asking him to meet up in Hogsmeade when they have their first weekend in October. He even said he could bring Lupin. If they were a package deal, like he was with his friends, then he’d suck it up and ‘play nice’.

Then the Contessa took Harry shopping in Italy the last weekend of summer. She said he needed to ‘dress the part’, whatever that meant.

’You are an Heir twice over and a powerful leader,’ she hummed while she threw posh robes and clothes at Harry. ‘You will need to look more prestigioso for your foreign allies, yes?’

‘What foreign allies?’ Harry grunted as he hastily hid a pair of silk pants she casually handed him under the trousers and shirts in his arms.

‘The ones you will gain this year, my Meraviglia,’ she said warmly. ‘There will be foreign schools assembling at Hogwarts this year, no?’

‘Suppose so,’ Harry agreed.

‘Elocution dearest,’ she chided him gently. ‘The British are obsessed with ‘dark and light’, the French will not care for this. They only care about potenza, and you have that, do you not? My Meraviglia?’

Harry didn’t know much Italian, only bits and pieces here and there, but he knew what ‘potenza’ meant, and he had that. So they planned for approaches with the foreign schools. Which apparently involved a lot of ‘being charming’. And no, the Contessa said he can’t just make Blaise do it.

Which sucked.

The Contessa also made Harry try on and buy what seemed to be half the store, which also sucked, but he figured her advice was worth the nightmare of shopping.

But none of these ideas could even be put in action until the Tournament started. And none of his own personal plans for Hogwarts were panning out. So all in all, it was a dull first few days in terms of plots and plans.

His classes have been interesting at least. Not quite enough to make up for the general boredom, but at least they weren’t too terrible.

In Herbology they started working with a disgusting new plant that even had Susan cringing away from it.

“This is a Bubotubers,” Sprout said, introducing the new plant. “You will collect the pus in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus.”

Squeezing the black tube like plants was disgusting, but the popping sound they made when you squished the pus out was satisfying. And the yellow pus was thick and smelled like petrol but Sprout swore it was used in medicines for the Hospital Wing.

“This’ll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,” said Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. “An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.”

“Like poor Eloise Midgen,” said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. “She tried to curse hers off.”

“Silly girl,” said Sprout, shaking her head. “But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end.”

Harry personally thought Midgen, a Ravenclaw in his year, still had a crooked nose. But he supposed maybe she liked it that way.

Hagrid had also elevated himself just slightly in Harry’s opinion when he introduced the most brilliant creature Harry had ever seen before.

“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said proudly, surrounded by several open crates.

They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

“On’y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid cheerfully, “so yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!”

“Why on Earth would we want to raise those things?” Draco said, a pinched expression on his face.

“Shh,” Harry shushed him. Anything Hagrid called ‘blast ended’ clearly meant they would explode or blow up other things- which was wicked.

“Good man Harry,” Hagrid said with a sparkly eyed nod towards where Harry had hushed Draco. “Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things — I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer — I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake — just try ’em out with a bit of each.”

Harry immediately scooped up a bit of each and his friends followed behind more slowly as he approached the Skrewts. On the bright side, the Skrewts didn’t seem to hate Harry like other animals did. On the down side, they didn’t seem to have mouths either so trying to feed them was pointless.

The Skrewts became Harry’s new favorite animal in the world though when after ten minutes one of them exploded its end and burnt Dean Thomas’ hand.

“Why are we even trying to feed them?” Thomas demanded angrily as he sucked on the burn on his hand. “They’re disgusting and pointless!”

“They’re weapons,” Harry said, happily trying to pet one of them. “Suppose they just proved that by burning you, didn’t they?”

“Just what Harry needs,” Hermione whispered to Ron. “More weapons.”

As they trooped back up to the castle Harry let out a happy sigh.

“Finally, finally, Hagrid brings an interesting creature. D’you reckon they’ll get any bigger?” he asked Draco.

“I expect they’ll be monstrous once Hagrid figures out what they eat,” Theo cut in. “And then they’ll swarm the grounds and kill half the students.”

“You think?” Harry asked.

“Don’t sound so eager,” Hermione said curtly. “Honestly Harry. You’d think you want just constant chaos.”

“He does,” Theo, Ron, and Draco all said. Harry just shrugged. He thought the Skrewts were interesting. Or at least, they had potential to be interesting.

Of course, nothing except for putting a Skrewt in the classroom would ever make Divination interesting. Harry asked Snape if he could drop it, but he said not until after his fifth year.

Trelawney started their first class off with another doomed ‘prediction’ about Harry.

“The thing you fear is not baseless,” she whispered to Harry loudly enough for the entire class to hear. “The thing that troubles your soul, it is indeed a true worry you should have.”

“You think Dumbledore did cancel Quidditch on purpose just to irritate me then?” Harry asked.

“What?” Trelawney drew herself up shortly, her blurry gaze shifting to confusion. “No dear, the thing that is troubling your very soul.”

“It is troubling my soul,” Harry said stoutly.

Harry counted it as a win when Trelawney actually scowled at him before slamming a book on the table he shared with Ron, Neville, and Blaise.

“She’s going to snap and hit you with a sherry bottle one day,” Neville snickered. “I dunno why she keeps picking on you when she knows you’re just going to say something wild.”

“It’s not wild to be mad about Quidditch,” Ron defended him. “Dumbledore’s a git.”

“Unless you guys find a way to enter the Tournament,” Blaise said with a small grin. “Then he won’t be.”

“No he will be,” Harry said. “But if I don’t get in the tournament and I can’t play Quidditch then I’m gonna let Sue catch his office on fire.”

The other boys snickered at that until they were interrupted by Trelawney clearing her throat pointedly.

“Am I correct in saying you were conceived under the baleful influence of Saturn?” she asked Harry.

“Probably the influence of whiskey,” Harry said politely. “My parents were 19 when they got pregnant with me, weren’t they? My godfather said I was a ‘happy accident’ they made during a wild party.”

Blaise chuckled quietly, and Neville ducked beneath the table to hide his laughter. Harry just kept up his polite smile.

“No, no. The planetary influence of Saturn,” Trelawney said with another frown. “I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your conception... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?”

“Oh absolutely,” Harry said. “Yeah it was a real cold midwinter July when I was born.”

Ron laughed so hard that he got tears in his eyes and for the first time ever Trelawney assigned detention to the four of them for that evening.

“I don’t understand how I got roped in to your detention,” Neville was still complaining as they headed to dinner after class.

“The absolutely poor decision on our part by choosing to sit with Harry,” Blaise said with a sympathetic pat on Neville’s shoulder. “Of course she did assign us to our Heads, so Snape will probably let us do homework or something.”

“I’ve got McGonagall,” Neville reminded them. “She’ll have me doing lines.”

“Bad luck there mate,” Ron said.

They joined their other friends at dinner and listened as they filled them in on the classes they didn’t share.

As much as Harry didn’t like wasting his time in Divinatjon, it still sounded loads better than Arithmacy.

“And Professor Vector didn’t even assign us any homework,” Hermione said with a smug look at Neville’s homework planner after the most boring rant about the subject Harry had ever heard.

“That’s because Professor Vector spends all his time in the pub when he’s done with classes,” Fred laughed, walking up to their table and squeezing himself in between Hermione and Theo.

Which Harry thought was pretty brave since Theo studied his fork as if he might stab Fred with it.

“Any of you lot had Moody yet?” Fred winked at Harry, intentionally ignoring Hermione’s hateful glare.

“The boys and I have him tomorrow,” Susan checked her schedule.

“We don’t until Wednesday,” Neville said with a shy grin at Hermione.

“I had him this morning,” Luna piped up with. Luna spent so much time with their group that Harry honestly forgot she was a year behind them most of the time. Just this morning in Charms, Harry had looked for Luna’s familiar silvery blonde hair when Hermione walked in.

“What’s he like then?” Harry asked Fred.

“You’re going to like him Darlin’, he’s wicked brilliant and super interesting,” Fred said with a wide smile.

“He’s a fuckin cop,” Harry said flatly. “Can’t be that great, can he?”

“But he wasn’t a good cop, was he?” Neville said. “I heard he was always breaking the rules to catch Dark Wizards.”

Harry snorted at that. It wasn’t a big surprise that Moody was just another cop who thought he was too good to follow the rules.

“I think you’ll like him,” Luna agreed with Fred. “He’s like us.”

“Completely mad?” Harry grinned at Luna. They’d decided if everyone thought they were mad then they should just embrace it. Luna’s goal for the year was to get out of at least one punishment by saying: ‘It’s not my fault Professor, I’m mad’. Harry told her to do it to Snape, but she refused to act up in his class since it could be so dangerous.

“Absolutely insane,” Luna agreed serenely.

“That’s why they call him Mad-Eye Moody,” Susan said. “Auntie says he was one of the most successful Aurors with the worst write up rate.”

“He’s a much better teacher than Lockhart was,” Fred said. “Plus he’s got loads of cool stories from when he was an auror.”

“I think it’d be cool to be an auror,” Ron said.

“Don’t you dare,” Harry warned him. “I’ll disown you if you become a cop.”

“Aurors are highly respected,” Hermione said in the sniffy tone she takes on sometimes when she’s offended. “I think Ron would be excellent at it.”

“Or you can be the assistant to the Vice Minister of Magic,” Susan offered Ron with a grin. “That sounds way better.”

“Do we have a Vice Minister of Magic?” Fred asked, stealing a couple of rolls off Theo’s plate and juggling it while Harry laughed at his nonsense.

“Harry’s making Susan her own position when he’s the minister,” Draco explained with a huff. “Even though some of us would be much better Vice Ministers.”

“Sue was here first,” Harry shrugged. “First come first serve. You can have Bagman’s job. Then you can just deal with Quidditch stuff all the time?”

Draco perked up at that but Harry didn’t miss the way Fred flexed his hand irritably at the mention of Bagman. He studied Fred for a moment, trying to decide what could be so annoying about Bagman when Blaise stood up and reminded Harry and Ron about their detention.

“Yeah,” Harry pushed his plate away and grabbed his bag. “Suppose we should get to that.”

The three of them trooped down to the dungeons, in unusually good moods considering they were going to detention. Blaise knocked on the classroom door at precisely 7:00.

“Come in,” Snape called.

They went inside and Harry immediately moved for his usual seat up in front of Snape’s desk.

“We have detention with you,” he said brightly. “First ever to get detention from Trelawney.”

“It’s not supposed to be an achievement,” Blaise snorted, taking a spot beside Harry while Ron sat on his opposite side.

“It sorta is though,” Ron shrugged.

“It is not,” Snape said with a roll of his eyes. “How did you manage to get Sybill to assign you detention?”

Ron and Blaise both pointed at Harry who glared at them in return.

“Snitches get stitches,” he murmured.

“What’s stitches?” Blaise asked.

“And why are giving them to snitches?” Ron added.

Fuckin purebloods.

“He means that it is terribly un-Slytherin of you to immediately sell out your housemate,” Snape said. “Although I find myself unsurprised to learn that Harry has caused this detention.”

“Trelawney asked if I was born in winter and I said yeah, a real fuckin cold July.” Harry grinned at Snape. He’d stopped making any real effort to stop Harry’s language ages ago, now he just curses along with him and it’s brill. It’s like Harry’s the one changing Snape’s outlook on life for once.

“Wonderful. Did you bring homework?” Snape asked, only smirking slightly at Harry’s explanation.

“Yes sir,” Blaise said.

“Do that then,” Snape waved his hand and pulled his stack of parchments back towards himself. “Homework, no talking, leave me alone, and then you may leave in an hour.”

Harry shared smug looks with the other boys as they pulled their Charms homework out of their bags. He hoped Neville’s detention wasn’t too bad. It was a shame Snape wasn’t his Head of House as well.

The four of them all worked on their own work quietly, the only sound was the scratching of the quills and Harry’s whispered requests for Blaise to check some of his spelling. When they only had twenty minutes remaining, there was a curt knock on the classroom door before it was thrown roughly open.

Moody came clunking in, pulling along Benjamin Macnair of all people.

“Moody,” Snape said, getting to his feet. “What can I do for you?” Harry saw the tightening of Snape’s shoulders, the only sign of his agitation. But if Snape was showing any sign at all of agitation, then it had to be pretty strong.

Snape doesn’t like Moody.

Just another reason not to like the man no matter how wicked Fred says he is.

“I caught this one-“ Moody shook Macnair by his robe collar sharply. “Hexing some younger students when their backs were turned. Minerva said to bring him to you.”

Harry watched the way the two men glared at each other and abandoned his homework in favor of grabbing his knife in his pocket. If Moody attacked Snape then Harry would attack Moody.

Simple.

“I believe I can deal with it,” Snape said tersely. “He is one of mine.”

“Is he?” Moody asked, his fake eye spinning in its socket until it rested on Harry. A move that wasn’t unnoticed by Snape or Harry himself. “Seems like you have your hands full. I wouldn’t mind taking Macnair here for detention.” He all but spat Macnair’s name, which was an interesting reaction.

“I just said I would handle it,” Snape said, his dark eyes narrowing. “Unless you believe me to be incompetent?”

Moody let out a sharp bark of laughter and let go of Macnair to take a step closer to Snape.

“You’re a lot of things, Severus Snape,” he growled. “It would be a shame if you were incompetent as a Professor on top of them, wouldn’t it?”

“Heard you’re a lot of things too,” Harry cut in with a sneer. “Cop who can’t follow your own rules, yeah?”

“That’s another detention Potter,” Snape said with a severe look at Harry. It was his ’shut your mouth right now’ look, but Moody wasn’t going to come in here and insult Snape.

“No, let’s hear this,” Moody turned and focused on Harry with both eyes. “You’re sticking up for him then? Is he a good person? A good guardian?”

“Snape’s the best person I’ve ever met,” Harry glared at Moody. He wasn’t worried about pissing Moody off. Snape wouldn’t let him attack Harry. “Better than an auror with the longest history of write ups ever, ain’t he? How come you didn’t go to jail for that, huh? Don’t have to follow the rules when you’re a cop?”

Moody didn’t reply to that, he just watched Harry for a long, silent, moment before he laughed shortly and clapped his hands together.

“You’ve got him good and taught, don’t you Snape?” he said, still watching Harry. “I guess you’re one of those rare law abiding Slytherin’s then?”

Harry thought that was awfully rude to say in front of Ron and Blaise, both of whom were actually law abiding Slytherin’s.

“About as law abiding as you, Officer,” he sneered.

“Potter, enough,” Snape said sharply. “Moody if that is all?”

Moody smiled coolly as Harry glared at him.

“For now,” he finally said. “I’ll be seeing you around Snape. Potter.”

Snape waited until Moody left before turning his attention to Macnair.

“Detention tomorrow evening at 7, go.”

As soon as the door closed behind Macnair, Blaise started snickering.

“Merlin Harry, you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

“He does not,” Snape agreed. His eyes sharp on Harry. “Ronald, Blaise- dismissed. Harry, remain behind.”

Harry slumped in his seat and crossed his arms.

“That was both unnecessary and incredibly foolish,” Snape hissed at him once they were alone. “You would do well to not go out of your way to taunt Alastor Moody.”

“Then he would do well not to come in to your classroom and insult you,” Harry said.

“Moody can make your life incredibly difficult Harry,” Snape said, his eyes warm but his tone serious. “He is very close to Albus and his causes.”

“You mean the Headmaster who hates me?” Harry laughed. “Then Moody’s going to hate me anyway, so who cares what I say to him?”

“What did we discuss over the holidays? What is the worst possible outcome of you making an outright enemy of Alastor Moody?”

“Worst possible? He kills me,” Harry said immediately.

“You believe death is the worst possible outcome?” Snape asked.

Harry thought hard about that.

“Wellll, I guess worst case, as in the absolute worst thing that could ever possibly happen, is if Moody put all you guys in Azkaban and found a way to remove my magic so I couldn’t break you all back out. That would be worst case. But I don’t think that’s really likely, do you?”

Snape summoned a pain relieving potion, which Harry figured meant he said something wrong.

“My hope is that by the time you graduate you have learned the incredibly valuable lesson of keeping your mouth shut,” Snape sighed. “Go.”

Harry shrugged and gathered his stuff up. If Snape didn’t like his worst case scenario then that was his problem.

It did cheer Harry up to remember that his worst case scenario was unlikely when he finally had Defense the next day.

“You can put your books away,” Moody growled when the class filled in. “You won’t be needing them today.”

Harry and Susan exchanged looks at that. That’s what Lupin said last year too then he made them all face a boggart.

Moody pulled out a roster and started calling names. He paused and gave a few students looks, like Theo and Draco, which Harry bristled at.

“He makes one move and I’ll curse the rest of his nose off,” Susan muttered. Harry just nodded in agreement.

“Right then,” Moody said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —”

“Are you not staying sir?” Daphne Greengrass asked him.

“No,” Moody said, an odd grin on his face. “Just the one year, special favor to Dumbledore.”

“Good,” Harry muttered.

“So,” Moody clapped his hands together and looked around the room. “The Ministry thinks you should only be learning counter curses in Fourth Year. They don’t want you to see what a real dark curse is until Sixth year, I think that’s bureaucratic nonsense.”

Harry perked up in his seat at that. He actually didn’t think of how a cop who broke the rules might turn in to a teacher who did too.

“I’d say most of you already know some pretty dark curses, eh Nott?”

Theo looked surprised at that and Harry scowled harshly at Moody.

“What a git,” Susan muttered angrily.

“What was that Miss Bones?” Moody asked, his magic eye now fixed on Susan.

“Nothing sir,” Susan said politely with her sharp smile that was Harry’s favorite.

Moody kept his magic eye fixed on Susan but went on teaching.

“Which curses are most heavily punished by the Ministry?” Moody asked.

“The ones they don’t forgive,” Harry drawled, barely resisting adding a ‘duh’ for good measure.

Moody’s magical blue eye swirled from Susan to Harry and he gave him what would almost be considered a confused look.

“What would those be Potter?”

“Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra,” Harry said.

“He would know,” Macmillan said softly. Harry smiled at Macmillan, storing that comment away for later.

Moody gave Harry another puzzled frown before he clumped behind his desk and pulled out a jar. Harry sat up to see better and saw that there were three large black spiders scuttling around the jar. In the seat in front of Susan, Ron leaned as far back in his chair and let out a quiet kind of whimper. Susan sighed a long suffering sound before quickly switching Ron seats while Moody was getting one of the spiders out.

Moody sat the spider on the desk up front and pointed his wand at it.

“Alright then, we’ll start with the first one Potter listed, Imperio!”

The spider began doing flips and tricks. The Hufflepuffs, except for Susan, all laughed at the acrobatic arachnid. Harry, Susan, and the other Slytherin’s watched in silence. Harry didn’t know if they were all thinking what he was, but it made him sick to imagine someone forcing him to do things he didn’t want to. All he ever wanted to do was be free. And Imperio was the opposite of freedom, it was magical enslavement.

“Think it’s funny?” Moody asked the Hufflepuffs when he ended the spell. “You think it would be a laugh to be forced to bend to someone else’s will? I could make this spider do anything. Drown itself, jump out the window, attack its fellow spiders. Anything.”

Harry shuddered as the Hufflepuffs quickly quit laughing. He’d rather die than have that happen. No choices, nothing.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Timmy had been all-powerful. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. Of course the Ministry doesn’t always get it right, does it?” he added softly with another look at Draco.

“I don’t think Draco was crawling around cursing muggles in a nappie, was he?”

Harry expected that from Susan. Maybe even Theo. He didn’t expect Ron to be the one glaring up at Moody for the implied insult to their friend.

Moody fixed both his eyes on Ron.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago...”

“Shame,” Theo muttered.

“Is there a way to fight the Imperious Curse?” Harry interrupted quickly before Moody could turn his eyes on Theo. He didn’t want to ask the man anything if he could help it, but he needed to know. If there was, then he needed to learn it.

“Strong mental fortitude,” Moody said. “I’ll be teaching you all that next lesson. But now, next- the Cruciatus Curse.”

Harry looked at Draco in front of him and saw he looked tense. He grit his teeth and slowly reached out and patted Draco’s shoulder to try and console him.

The startled look Draco gave him at the action made Harry wonder if he’d done it wrong.

“Watch carefully,” Moody growled as he pulled another spider out of the jar and pointed his wand at it. ”Crucio!”

The spider in his hand curled its legs up in on itself and twitched over and over. Harry winced in sympathy. That spell hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced. Harry had nearly bit his tongue right in half trying to keep quiet when Avery got him with it on the first night.

Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse... That one was very popular once too.”

“That’s why it works when I say I want someone to hurt,” Harry whispered to Ron. He hadn’t actually realized until now what his magic was doing when he commanded it to do that.

Ron was still rather pale, probably because of the spiders, but he nodded.

“Did it hurt?” he asked softly.

“A bit,” Harry shrugged. Ron might be one of his, but he wasn’t going to admit to anyone that it was the worst pain he’d ever experienced. He’d take another knife to the leg over that.

“Last one now,” Moody said, a lopsided smile twisting his face. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Harry leaned forward, a thrill going through him as he knew what was coming. Sure enough-

“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in this room.”

”Fuck off,” Harry hissed in Parsletongue when the whole class swiveled in their seats to stare at Harry. Moody started at Harry’s hiss, which was funny because why would an auror be scared of Parsletongue?

Wixen were just afraid of things they didn’t understand.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it — you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed,” Moody laughed. Theo turned in his seat and smirked at Harry, who grinned back. Even if Moody was wrong about if Harry could do it or not, it was nice hearing that only powerful wixen could do it.

“But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it,” Moody continued, his magic eye fixed on Harry still. “Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

Harry hadn’t meant to. Honestly. And he knew Snape was going to kill him when he found out. But when Moody shouted at them- Harry instinctively jumped to his feet, flexed his left hand, and sent a stunner at Moody.

Who blocked it in the quickest defensive move Harry had ever seen.

The rest of the class seemed to hold its breath while Moody dissolved his shield and stared at Harry. Moody’s jaw was partly hanging open and he looked shocked.

Oh Harry was absolutely dead.

“That- that right there- is excellent instincts,” Moody finally said with a slow couple of claps. “Where’d you learn to duel Potter?”

“Taught myself, didn’t I?” Harry said, still standing and holding his knife tightly in his pocket with his right hand.

Moody had clapped, as if he was impressed for some reason, but Harry wasn’t going to drop his guard just yet.

“Stay behind after class Potter,” Moody barked before turning his attention to the rest of the room. “Now, listen up. The use of any one of those curses on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban.”

By Harry’s calculations he’d earned at least six life sentences.

“That’s what you’re up against,” Moody said. “That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down...”

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang — but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth.

“Want me to wait?” Blaise whispered beneath the chatter while Harry’s other friends stalled by the classroom door.

“Nah, go ahead,” Harry said. It wasn’t that it was unlikely of Moody to attack him, the first two defense professors had tried to kill him, but he probably wouldn’t do it in the middle of the classroom in broad daylight.

Harry got up from his seat and walked up to Moody’s desk where the man was waiting in his seat.

“Have a seat Potter,” he said.

“I’d rather stand if it’s all the same to you,” Harry said lightly.

“Smart lad,” Moody said with an approving nod. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?”

Harry didn’t think that sounded like a compliment so he just shrugged. Moody leaned forward and studied Harry closely with both eyes.

“Tell me lad, how do you like Slytherin?”

Harry was caught off guard by such a random question.

“It’s brill, isn’t it?” he shrugged again. “Course I’ve never been in another house so maybe they’re just as good.”

Moody grinned again at that.

“All about equality then, eh?”

Harry got the feeling they weren’t talking about houses anymore.

“I don’t think people’s pasts are nearly as interesting as their futures, are they?” Harry said.

“So you believe in a second chance?” Moody asked shrewdly. “Because you know there are some marks that never wash off laddie.”

“Depends I suppose,” Harry said, ignoring the obvious jab about the Dark Marks. “Is that all sir?”

“No,” Moody growled. “How’d you like to duel sometime? See how good you are? Bet Dumbledore couldn’t complain about that, could he? Help you train for what’s coming.”

“If I’m involved in it then Dumbledore’s likely to complain,” Harry said coolly. “And the last defense professor who offered to duel me had Timmy in the back of his head, didn’t he? So no, I’d rather not.”

Moody’s real eye bulged when Harry mentioned Timmy.

“Timmy?” he rasped out. He reached down for his hip flask and took a long drink while he kept one eye on Harry.

“Timmy Riddle, he likes to be called Voldemort,” Harry smiled when Moody sputtered at Timmy’s code name.

Some big brave Dark Wizard catcher, he scoffed.

“You dueled the Dark Lord?” Moody asked in a harsh whisper.

Harry kept a tight hold on his knife as he tilted his head and considered Moody carefully.

“You weren’t much of an Auror at all, were you?” Harry eventually grinned.

Moody gave Harry a slow grin of his own.

“You’re dismissed Potter.”

Harry shrugged and backed up from the desk carefully darting around desks and chairs while keeping an eye on Moody.

“I’d prefer you not try and kill me,” he said once he felt the door behind him. “Last few blokes who came here and tried to kill me didn’t have real happy endings, ya know?”

“You’re threatening me?” Moody asked. He didn’t look offended, only mildly amused. Which in itself was rather amusing. Especially since half of Harry’s gang could tell him that Harry personally killed Quirrell and Lockhart and got rid of Lupin.

Harry gave Moody one of Susan’s polite smiles.

“Course not. I just like knowing where I stand with people. So if you’re planning on killing me, I figured you’d like a heads up that I’m hard to kill.”

Harry left the classroom right after that, but he heard Moody’s barking laughter in the corridor from the other side of the closed door.

He shook his head when he spotted Blaise leaning against the wall outside the classroom and twirling his wand casually.

“Finished threatening our new teacher?” Blaise asked.

“Didnt threaten him,” Harry corrected him as they walked towards the Great Hall to grab lunch. “I think... I think I’m going to recruit him.”

Blaise gave Harry a sideways look at that but Harry didn’t mind.

Luna was right, Moody was mad.

Fred was right too, he definitely was interesting.

But Harry saw how quick he blocked Harry’s spell. And he knew Moody wasn’t as ‘light’ as Dumbledore might think his ‘friend’ was. He’d never heard anyone outside of either former Death Eaters, current Death Eaters, or kids of Death Eaters call Timmy ‘the Dark Lord’.

So Moody had to be smart to have everyone tricked.

Harry reconsidered his previous thoughts on the man. A cop who didn’t follow the rules was still a former cop who knew all the rules. He was a guy who wasn’t worried about playing dirty and breaking the rules to get what he wants- which meant he was someone who would be good to have on Harry’s side.

Chapter Text

During his next several Defense classes, Moody seemed to make a point of ignoring Harry. Harry would speak up in class, Moody ignored him. He’d mouth something off loudly enough for Moody to hear, Moody ignored him. He even tried staying after class to speak with him, but Moody bolted each time as fast as his stupid wooden leg let him go.

“It’s fucking annoying,” Harry slammed his hand on the table at dinner after another unsuccessful day of trying to speak with the man. “Now that I want to talk to him- he ignores me!”

“Here’s what you do-” Fred leaned forward, his blue eyes were sparkling mischievously and he opened his mouth, with what was definitely going to be a prank, when Theo cut him off.

“No to whatever Weasley is about to suggest,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Be a Slytherin Harry. Be patient, cunning, subtle,” he added with a pointed look at Fred.

“I was going to say blow up his room with fireworks,” Fred shrugged. “But sure. I guess you could be boring about it too.”

“No wait-“ Susan leaned across the table towards Fred. “Tell me more about those fireworks.”

Harry huffed as the two of them started discussing explosives.

“What house was Moody in?” Blaise asked.

“Gryffindor.”

“Hufflepuff.”

Hermione and Neville looked at each other.

“He was definitely a Gryffindor,” Hermione said. “He was an auror right? So we know he was brave.”

“I’m pretty sure he was in Hufflepuff,” Neville disagreed. “Loyal and hard working, right? Not all Aurors are Gryffindors.”

“Tonks was a Hufflepuff,” Draco added helpfully.

“Why does any of that matter?” Harry asked, slamming his hand down again. “How does knowing his house from a hundred years ago help recruit the man?”

“It was not one hundred years ago,” Luna giggled. “Alastor Moody is only seventy eight.”

“Fifty one years ago then,” Harry rolled his eyes. Wixen aged so weird.

“Sixty one,” Hermione corrected him. “And I’m buying you a calculator for Christmas.”

“I’ll buy you a cobra then,” Harry warned her. “And I’ll tell it to sleep under your pillow and scare the hell out of you when you’re least expecting it.”

“Then we’ll melt your sword,” Theo said with a teasing grin.

“How does knowing Moody’s house help recruit him?” Ron asked, interrupting Harry’s next threat about attacking their secret trunk of illegal books.

“Don’t be a Gryffindor,” Draco huffed, ignoring Fred and Neville’s indignant faces. “You have to approach people based on what they value.”

“Do go on Little Snake,” Fred grinned. “We want to hear more about your secret Slytherin recruiting tactics.”

“Don’t laugh at him,” Susan told Fred. “They worked on you didn’t they?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know that I had to trick Harry into dating me,” Fred said. “Worked my arse off too, didn’t I?”

“Not really, no,” Blaise smirked. “You just irritated him until he agreed to go out with you.”

“Daaaaaaarlin, say it ain’t so,” Fred cried with his hand over his heart. “Do you hear how they cheapen our love?”

Harry kicked Fred under the table.

“Jesus Christ, shut up,” he laughed. “Draco- ignore him. What were you saying?”

“I was saying, that if you wanted to recruit a Gryffindor you have to be all righteous about it. Convince them that your side is the right side to be on. A Slytherin is easy, just show them how powerful you are. Ravenclaws can’t stand not knowing things-“ Draco’s grey eyes flicked towards Hermione for a moment and he smirked. “So with them just be all ‘ooh I have a lot of secret knowledge but only gang members are allowed to know it.’ Hufflepuffs are the hardest, you have to win their loyalty. But once you do, they’re the perfect allies.”

Susan puffed her chest out proudly.

“We are the superior house,” she said pompously.

“Hardest to win though,” Blaise pointed out. “Which is probably why you’re the only Hufflepuff in the gang.”

“Lue’s the only Ravenclaw, and Nev’s the only Gryffindor,” Harry said. Hermione still refused to officially join because ‘gangs are for hooligans’.

“What? I’m not in the gang?!” Fred made puppy dog eyes at Harry. “Why am I not a part of it?”

“The gang is different than being friends, or, er, more than friends I guess,” Ron said, his face blushing. “It’s allies Fred. You and Harry aren’t allies.”

“How do I be an ally then?” Fred asked, leaning back and locking his hands behind his head. He winked at Harry when he noticed him eyeing his exposed arms, which made Harry blush now as well.

“You have to swear to follow Harry’s causes,” Neville said.

“And you aren’t allowed to ask him for favors,” Susan added.

“And if you try and leave the gang or betray it then you die,” Luna said serenely. “Harry calls it ‘magic in, blood out’.”

“You die if you leave the gang?” Hermione hissed. “Harry that’s a joke, right?”

“Nope.” Harry took a drink of his water and calmly watched as Hermione seethed for a moment. “Most gangs make you kill someone to join, so I suppose I’m already being plenty nice, yeah?”

“I’ll kill someone,” Susan said as casually as if they were talking about brewing a potion. “Give me a name.”

“You’re already in the gang,” Harry smiled fondly at her. “But you can help me kill Dumbledore at some point if you want.”

Susan took the opportunity to glare darkly up at the Head Table where Dumbledore was chatting away with McGonagall.

“Wait, wait, wait. All I have to do is agree to follow Harry’s causes, not ask him for favors, and never betray the gang?” Fred asked. “Done.”

“Do you even know what his causes are?” Blaise sighed. “You shouldn’t join a gang just because you’re dating the leader.”

Fred shrugged and smiled at Harry.

“What’re your causes then Darlin’? Besides taking over the world.”

“Shows what you know,” Draco scoffed before Harry could answer. “Harry’s only trying to take over the United Kingdom.”

“Why think small though?” Ron said, his eyes squinted thoughtfully. “If Harry could rule the whole world, why not do it?”

Harry and Susan glanced at each other and seemed to share a moment where they could read each other’s minds.

“Nah,” Harry waved his fork airily. “Too much work. Here’s my causes-“ he watched Fred carefully, waiting to see how he’d react to his current plans. “Figure out how Timmy’s coming back. Then kill him. Then kill Dumbledore. Then become the Minister of Magic. Wands for all magical creatures that can carry them. And mandatory boarding schools starting in Primary Schools for muggleborns. Complete separation from muggles for them as early as possible. And... and I’m sure there’ll be more later.”

Fred looked calm and thoughtful during Harry’s spiel, but Harry still half expected him to crack a joke or laugh at him.

“Why mandatory boarding schools for Muggleborns?” he asked, surprising Harry with his thoughtful tone.

“Because muggles either hate magic or they want to use it, yeah? It’s disgusting and it’s unfair,” Harry spat. “Magic kids shouldn’t have to live like that.”

“Not all muggles,” Hermione said coolly. “My parents certainly aren’t like that.”

“Not yet,” Susan said, her tone matching Hermione’s level of warmth. “Who knows what they’ll ask when you come of age?”

“My parents love me,” Hermione said. “They’d certainly never hate me or try and use me.”

“You’re lucky then,” Harry told her flatly. “But wouldn’t it have been better if you’d been around other kids your age when you first started showing signs of accidental magic? Then you wouldn’t have been bullied by muggle kids, or felt like a freak. You would have known you were special right away.”

“I was awfully behind on Wixen culture when I arrived,” Hermione said slowly. “I think it could have been beneficial if I’d have known I was a witch when I was younger. But I don’t think mandatory schools are necessary.”

Harry ignored her last bit. Hermione might be one of the few lucky muggleborns whose family didn’t want to use her for magic or hated her for it. Or they just hadn’t shown their true colors yet.

Magic kids, kids who were strong and special, needed to be protected as early as possible.

“You make a lot of good points,” Fred said. “I never thought about how hard it would be to live with muggles before Hogwarts. The secret would be safer if kids were moved sooner too, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “I knew you’d get it.”

He hadn’t actually known that. He was worried Fred wouldn’t get it at all. But people liked to hear that you believed in them, so Harry said it anyway.

“And why are we killing Dumbledore?” Fred asked.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Neville said, surprising Harry with his hard tone.

“Dumbledore is a bit personal,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “But he is on my to do list, sooo it’s a gang thing now.”

“And what exactly does betraying the gang consist of?” Fred asked.

Harry was actually surprised. Nobody else had asked this many questions before joining the gang. In fact, most of them hardly asked any questions at all. Harry felt a small warmth in his chest that Fred was obviously so smart to ask the right questions before just trying to join.

“Anything that puts the gang at risk,” Blaise said. “Draco almost got kicked out for calling Hermione the M-word back in first year.”

“I was eleven,” Draco hissed, his cheeks heating up at the reminder. “And Ron was almost kicked out for not trusting Harry in the chamber!”

“Hey- if Harry had to choose between killing a basilisk or saving an annoying first year, you’d question it too!” Ron defended himself. “And I’ve been perfectly loyal ever since.”

“Pft,” Fred scoffed and leaned forward, his elbows now on the table between him and Harry. “I want in.”

“What about George?” Theo asked.

“Fred’s his own person,” Blaise said, watching Harry closely as he decided.

Harry chewed his lower lip while he stared at Fred. On the one hand, Fred was a genius. He was smart, and tricky, and all around brilliant. He was able to make friends easily and would be perfect for the gang.

But, on the other hand...

“Harry doesn’t want to have to kill you if you betray the gang,” Luna said easily. Once again proving that she’s a better mind reader than Snape himself is. “He’s worried you’ll betray the gang and he’ll have to hurt you.”

Fred slowly reached out and laid his hand palm up in the middle of the table between them.

“Never,” he said.

This was the part that Harry hated. He hated having to decide if he trusted someone or not. Everyone in the gang, Harry trusted. Each of them knew at least one secret about him, though none of them knew them all. They all knew the prophecy, and they all knew what Harry’s plans were. And they’d all proved that they’d help Harry with his plans, no matter how dangerous or ‘mad’ the plans were. Harry didn’t think any of them would betray him, so he didn’t think he’d ever have to actually bring himself to hurt them.

He would if they forced his hand, but he didn’t think it would get to that point.

But trusting Fred felt different. He’d been surprised when Fred stuck around after the opening duels, Fred hadn’t even seemed scared of Harry at all after everything he said and did. But Harry figured Fred thought he was joking about killing Avery and Theo’s dads.

Would Fred still want to be with Harry if he was in the gang and found out more about him? Hearing him say he was going to kill Dumbledore was one thing, what would he do if he knew Harry had killed people before? Would he leave?

“You don’t have to decide now,” Fred said, grinning more casually at Harry despite the lingering silence. “But just so you know- I want in.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh at the easy out Fred gave him.

“I’ll think about it,” he offered quietly.

“If nothing else then I’d be excellent arm candy for the future minister,” Fred winked, breaking the tension for the rest of the group who had been watching the interaction.

Fred was just so easy going. Which was wild that he wanted to be with Harry, because Harry was never easy going.

“Can we get back to recruiting the insane defense Professor or are you two going to kiss now?” Blaise drawled with a Snape like brow raised.

Fred leaned across the table towards Harry and puckered his lips up. Harry laughed and shoved his face away with his palm.

“Quit it stupid,” he smiled. “Jesus Christ Fred.”

“Fine,” Fred poured. “But dibs on sleeping in your bed tonight.”

“That fine,” Luna said. “I invited Ginny to have a sleepover in my room tonight anyway.”

“Ginny Weasley?” Susan asked sharply. “Luna! Why?”

Luna shrugged, ignoring the shocked looks of her friends.

“She’s so lonely,” she said easily. “Nobody ever talks to her.”

Harry craned his head around Fred to peek at the Gryffindor table and felt a small pang when he realized Ginny was sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. He could still remember how terribly lonely it had been when he was alone all the time with no more company than his own miserable thoughts.

‘You’re a monster. I hate you.’

“Maybe she shouldn’t have been so fuckin rude, huh?” Harry said.

“Harry,” Luna turned to him and gave him a very uncharacteristically serious look. “She’s alone.”

“She does look lonely,” Fred said with a small frown. “I didn’t notice before...”

“Well damn,” Ron sighed, peeking at his sister as well. “What do we do?”

“You idiots don’t do anything,” Hermione said. “Lue can be friends with her if she wants.”

Luna and Harry were in a silent stare off.

“Fine,” Harry eventually huffed. “Be her friend. But don’t be surprised if you try and be nice to her and she says she hates you.”

“I won’t be surprised, people say they hate me all the time,” Luna said lightly.

“They better never,” Susan growled. “You tell me who and I’ll kill them.”

By the end of dinner, when Harry was sneaking Fred down to his room, he realized their group had gotten off track and he still had no damn idea how to get Moody to his side.

“Just be yourself,” Fred murmured that night. “He’ll see that it’s the right side to be on.”

“You really think so?” Harry said softly.

“Harry,” Fred tilted his face up towards him so Harry had to look in his steady blue eyes. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. If Moody doesn’t beg to be on your side, then fuck him.”

Harry grinned up at him. Fred was the best.

“Fuck him,” he agreed.

Except, Harry’s very next class, Moody proved how great of an ally he would be.

“Today I’m going to be putting the Imperious Curse on each of you, this will demonstrate its power and to see whether you could resist its effects,” Moody said.

“You’re using an Unforgiveable on us?!” Millicent Bullstrode asked.

“Do you have a better way to learn how to resist it?” Moody growled. “Or would you rather have the first time you get it placed on you be by a Dark Wizard?”

Bulstrode shut up, but Harry wrote a quick note to Susan.

If he tries to make me do anything that isn’t okay, will you hit him with fiendfyre?

Absolutely. You’ll do the same, right?

Swear.

Their quick pact made, Harry was eager to watch their Professor put each of their classmates under the Imperious Curse.

Harry cracked up when Moody made Macmillan twirl a waltz in front of everyone. And Pansy clucking like a chicken was also hilarious. Harry felt a little bad when Ron hopped around the room singing a catchy Wixen song. Not a single one of them could fight off the curse, which was surprising because Harry knew for a fact that Snape was able to resist it almost instantly.

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

Susan nodded at Harry so he moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, ”Imperio!”

Harry felt the magic wash over him, but he didn’t feel very magically enslaved so he just blinked at Moody, unimpressed.

“Jump on the desk,” Moody murmured softly. “Jump on the desk.”

“Why would I do that?” Harry asked, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked blankly at him.

Moody, who hadn’t hardly said three words directly to Harry since their first class, gaped at him now.

”Imperio!” Moody cried again.

Harry smirked at him and winked out at a giggling Susan.

“Look at this!” Moody yelled out at the class. “Potter beat it! They won’t be able to control you, will they boy?”

“Don’t call me boy,” Harry said curtly.

Moody gave him a small frown and ushered him back to his seat.

“Bones, up next.”

Harry passed Susan and touched the back of her hand reassuringly. If Moody tried to get her to do anything stupid- he’d stop him.

Susan smiled at Harry when he brushed their hands together, which actually reassured him that he hadn’t done it wrong before when he patted Draco’s shoulder. Clearly there was something wrong with Draco.

Moody made Susan jump on the desk, and she wasn’t able to throw it off. Which was disappointing, but it seemed like maybe it was harder than Harry had made it look.

“How did you do that?” Susan hissed. “I felt so... so... floaty and free, but not free?”

“I barely felt it,” Harry whispered. “Probably the Occlumency.”

His theory was proven correct when Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Daphne Greengrass were all able to throw the curse off between one and five minutes. Draco threw it off the quickest, which made sense because, after Harry, he was the strongest Occlumens in their group.

“Professor, I’d like a word,” Harry jumped up immediately after Moody finally dismissed their class.

Moody sat on the edge of his desk and seemed to basically growl as Harry approached him.

“I changed my mind about the dueling lessons, are you still offering them?” Harry asked brightly. “I didn’t know you’d be able to use the Unforgiveables on us.”

“You want me to curse you?” Moody asked, raising his thick brows in surprise.

“Yeah, I mean, probably not the AK cause I dunno for sure if I can block that twice. But if I can learn to block or dodge the Crucio, that’d be brill, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re positively mad Potter,” Moody howled with laughter. “You can’t block the Cruciatus Curse.”

Harry scowled and tapped his foot in irritation.

“Not at all? What if I did this?”

Harry waved his hand and pulled up a shield with layers to prevent pain, bleeding, cuts, and bone breaking curses.

“Would this work?” he asked Moody from behind the shield. “I designed it myself.”

“Potter... Potter where is your wand?” Moody looked surprised and so Harry raised his chin up proudly before he shrugged.

“Probably in my trunk. I don’t carry it much, do I? Don’t need it.”

“You don’t carry a wand?” Moody asked, his magic eye was swirling around like crazy. “Potter, they’re going to have a hard time with you, aren’t they?”

Harry saw his opening, for the first time in weeks, and took it immediately.

“Anyone who’s on my side they’d have a hard time with too, sir,” he said. “I take care of my people, don’t I?”

“I bet you do, laddie,” Moody said, his real eye was narrowed and thoughtful as he watched Harry closely. “I bet you do.”

“I do,” Harry said calmly. “It’s not always chocolate or vanilla ya know, there’s a third choice too. I think it’s the better choice, but everyone decides for themselves, yeah?”

“What does the third choice offer?” Moody asked in a harsh whisper. “Besides a teenage boy with a scar on his forehead and a lucky past?”

”Freedom,” Harry said earnestly. “The third side offers freedom. If that’s something you might like, let me know. I think you’re smart, you’ve tricked Dumbledore, haven’t you? You know the laws. You’d be a good ally. But unlike the other two choices- I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

Moody didn’t say anything so Harry figured he’d better leave while he was ahead.

“Let me know if you want to duel sometime,” he said. “You could tell Dumbledore that I’m in detention. The excuse would probably work for your other Master too,” he smirked before quickly leaving the classroom.

The bait was set. All he could do now was wait and cross his fingers.

And he needed to get Fred a gift, he’d been right after all. Harry was himself and Moody seemed to be at least a little open to his offer. He’d just have to wait and see.

In the mean time, the whole school was abuzz with news of the upcoming arrivals of the two foreign schools. Which finally mean that Harry could put the Contessa’s plan in action.

“Hot damn,” Fred whistled when Harry came to breakfast the morning of the foreign schools arrival. “You look sharp Darlin’, you’re not dressing up for Krum are you?”

“No, the French kids,” Harry said truthfully. He felt like a bit of a prat in the tight black trousers, fitted black shirt, and his dark green school robes on top- but Draco and Blaise both said he looked good this morning. But they wore similar outfits everyday, which was a far cry from Harry’s preferred jeans and graphic t-shirts, so he wasn’t sure if their opinions counted.

’Do I look charming though?’ Harry had asked them.

‘Ask Fred,’ Theo said over the edge of his textbook.

“Hey- do I look charming?” Harry smiled as charmingly as he could at Fred and watched as the black part of his eyes grew in size.

“That’s a yes,” Susan laughed.

“Why are you trying to charm the French kids?” Fred asked after shaking his head lightly. “Because a bloke might get jealous over here.”

“Why would you be jealous?” Harry asked curiously.

Ron and Neville started snickering, which made the back of Harry’s neck heat up in embarrassment. He hated when he said something and people laughed.

“Because Fred thinks you’re trying to find a new boyfriend or girlfriend,” Luna said. “Which is silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Fred grumbled, his face now blushing lightly. “Look at him!” he waved his hand in Harry’s direction. “They’re going to be chasing after him!”

Harry’s neck was definitely practically on fire now.

“Quit it,” he mumbled as he glared at Fred beneath his bangs. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Fred said. “Harry, Merlin, did you even look in a mirror? You look hot.”

“That’s enough,” Susan said firmly as Harry hissed at Fred. “Harry, quit glaring and eat.”

Harry hastily shoved enough food down that he could duck his head slightly and take his medicine. Then he snatched his bag off the floor and stormed out of the hall to the potions classroom. If Fred was going to be an arse, then he wasn’t going to talk to him today. He already felt like a prat, Fred didn’t have to rub it in.

Harry was twenty minutes early to potions, but since they were the first class of the day he knew the door would be unlocked. He just went ahead and went in and threw his bag on his usual table in the back corner.

“Is there a reason you are attempting to break my table with the sheer force of your glare?”

Harry jumped a bit in his seat and looked up front to see Snape watching him curiously.

“Er, sorry sir, I didn’t see you there,” Harry said honestly.

“Is there a purpose behind your early morning anger?” Snape asked again.

Harry shrugged.

“Do I look charming?” he asked, feeling like an idiot for asking Snape, but now he needed another opinion since Fred couldn’t take anything seriously.

Snape eyed Harry from top to bottom once while Harry tried the charming smile the Contessa told him to use.

“You represent me and my house well,” Snape said, a hint of pride in his voice. “I am pleased to see at least one of you took my warning to dress and behave today properly.”

Harry preened slightly at that. That was practically high praise coming from the usually sarcastic Snape. Then he remembered what Fred said and scowled.

“Fred said the French students would be ‘chasing after me’,” he said flatly. “Then he called me hot.”

“And that was cause for you to come storming in my classroom angrily?” Snape asked.

“I don’t like being made fun of,” Harry muttered. He would have been embarrassed to say something so childish out loud, except he knew Snape didn’t like to be teased much either.

“Harry, why do you believe Frederick was teasing you?” Snape asked gently.

“Because its stupid,” Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest. “People do not ‘chase after me’, and I’m not hot I’m- well... I’m sort of short and scrawny and I’ve got these fuckin scars and glasses, yeah? I was just trying to dress up cause the Contessa told me to.”

“Your plans for world domination aside,” Snape smirked at Harry’s insulted huff. He was not trying to ‘take over the world’. The United Kingdom needed plenty of work on its own. “You are neither short nor scrawny,” Snape went on. “You are finally of average height and will likely always have a lithe build, as both your parents were thin people. And your father was living proof that some people found glasses attractive.”

“Did you just compliment him?” Harry grinned.

“I did not,” Snape said drily. “I certainly never found James Potter’s glasses to be attractive. But I was apparently in the minority according to the many witches, and occasional wizard, who followed the man around like lovesick fools. Additionally, I believe that some people find scars to be ‘interesting’ and ‘dangerous’.”

Harry laughed outright at that. Snape complimenting him in such a dry tone was just too much.

“So... so you think Fred wasn’t just being an arse?” he asked hesitantly.

“I believe Frederick Weasley typically redefines the word ‘arse’, but in this one specific instance? I do not. You have a famous name, a tragic backstory, you possess adequate looks, and you have an innate ability to draw others towards you. Undoubtedly, you will be the target of many fools’ affections.”

Harry let out a deep breath at that. Even if Snape was biased, Fred probably was too. So... maybe he had meant it.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“If you need reminded of your many irksome charms I suggest placing this memory in your pensieve because I will not be repeating myself,” Snape said gruffly.

Harry gave Snape a half-hearted salute as he pulled his book out of his bag, much more cheerful now than he had been.

“Here,” Draco muttered, handing Harry a folded parchment when he arrived. “Inform your Weasley that I am not an owl.”

“Ta, Dray,” Harry murmured, distracted as he unfolded the note.

Darlin,
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
You are very attractive,
And I already miss you.
-Fred
Ps: I wasn’t making fun of you. I’m sorry if you thought that.
Ps again: Susan says she’ll help me prank any French student who tries to steal you away from me. Reckon that means I’ve finally gotten her approval?
Ps again again: Hoot at Malfoy, it’s hilarious.

Harry grinned and carefully pocketed the note.

“Hey Dray,” he whispered as Snape started calling for attention. “Hooooot.”

Draco snapped his quill right in half.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Divination was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. Though, Trelawney still assigned them a months worth of dream interpretations. When the bell rang early, Harry and his friends ran to their dorms, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

“Boys! Over here!” Susan waved the Slytherin boys over to where she was waiting with Fred, George, Hermione, Luna, and Neville.

“You look great,” Fred murmured quietly to Harry as he wrapped his arm around his waist and followed the rest of their friends out to the lawn.

“You too,” Harry muttered truthfully, having no idea what to say to a compliment like that. If someone said ‘Harry you’re really strong’ then he’d probably puff his chest out proudly. But looks were different from being strong. Harry wasn’t like Tonks, he couldn’t just change his looks if he wanted.

Fred shook his head at him with a small grin, probably guessing at Harry’s doubts, but he didn’t say anything as the whole school waited with silent anticipation for the arrival of the foreign students. Harry shivered a bit as dusk had already fallen and it was starting to get icy in the evenings.

“Where is your cloak?” Susan hissed beside him. Harry glanced at the other Slytherin boys, none of which grabbed their cloaks either, and shrugged.

“Forgot I guess,” he said. Harry jerked his wrist shortly and Ron, Draco, Theo, and Blaise let out sighs of relief as Harry put warming charms on them all.

“Thanks mate,” Ron said. Harry nodded at him and then listened in closely as the students surrounding them guessed at how the foreign schools would be arriving.

“5 galleons that Durmstrang flies,” Ron whispered to Draco.

“5 galleons that Durmstrang isn’t so ignorant that they would fly clear to Scotland in freezing temperatures,” Draco laughed.

Harry shook his head as they shook hands on their bet. Ron and Draco could make a bet out of anything.

“Your brothers got a gambling problem,” he said to Fred. Fred grinned down at him.

“It’s a Weasley trait, we all love making ridiculous bets,” he winked.

“Yeah but at least you won your last one,” Blaise said, overhearing their conversation. “Harry told me about your win at the Cup. 1400 galleons on an impossible ending? There’s gotta be some sort of good luck charm happening or something.”

Harry looked at Fred curiously as his arm tensed around Harry’s waist.

“What’s that about?” he asked as Fred and George exchanged dark looks.

“Nothing,” Fred murmured.

“Tell me,” Harry said stoutly. “I want to know.”

Then Dumbledore interrupted as he called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“You’ll tell me later,” he told Fred sternly.

“Yes sir,” Fred winked. “Suppose I can stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah, but tomorrow’s just for the gang. Susan wants us to stick together on Halloween night since it’s cursed.”

Fred gave him an incredulous look at that, but a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, landed on the lawn in front of them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

“Later,” Fred murmured as the stairs to the carriage unfolded on their own.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.

Then Harry saw what had to be the tallest women he’d ever seen before in busk life step out of the carriage. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

The woman smiled graciously, Harry was sure her name was Madame Maxine, he’d met her once when she tried to convince him to attend her school. She walked through the parted students to Dumbledore, who kissed her hand politely.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

Susan turned and grinned at Harry when he said that, the look in her eyes clear.

Honestly. As much as Snape acts like Harry never thinks about it before he kills anyone, he must not know how much he has to hold Susan back. She literally had a list on the inside of her wardrobe of reasons she was going to kill Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen students, an even mixture of boys and girls, climbed out of the carriage and shivered in the cold air. Harry eyed their blue silk uniforms and found the perfect way to make his first impression.

”Warm them up,” he instructed his magic. He waved his arm just a bit more than was necessary so that at least one of them would catch his, hopefully, charming gesture.

Which worked.

An older girl, whose pale skin tone and long silken blonde hair could pass her for Draco’s older sister, caught Harry’s actions and smiled at him as the warmth hit her.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.

Harry winked and nodded. He wasn’t sure if winking was charming or not, but he liked it when Fred winked at him so he figured it was worth a shot.

He didn’t notice that Ron, Neville, and Draco had all turned and were staring at him with their mouths open.

“What?” he hissed.

“Merlin,” Fred sighed. “You don’t even know your own strength.”

Harry scoffed as the Beauxbatons students followed Madame Maxine in the castle to wait for Durmstrangs arrival. Of course he knew his own strength. He wasn’t stupid. Everyone talked about how good he was at magic.

“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan yelled abruptly, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...

“It’s a boat!” Draco yelled at Ron, holding his hand out eagerly.

“Son of a bitch,” Ron sighed as he dug out five golden coins from his pocket and smacked them in Draco’s palm gracelessly.

Harry laughed at his friends, but kept his eyes on the now disembarking students. They too had roughly a dozen students, all more thickly built than the French students, and all shuffling behind their Headmaster, the former Death Eater turned snitch, Karkaroff.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had short grey hair, a matching grey goatee, and was tall and thin, a stark contrast to his short and broad students. Harry stood on tiptoe to try and find Krum, who he’d wrote to at the end of summer when he realized why he’d offered to fly together this year.

“It is a pleasure to be here,” Karkaroff said, his warm tone not matching his cold black eyes. “You don’t mind if we come in quickly do you? Viktor here has a slight cold.”

Harry rolled his eyes when the students all began chatting excitedly as Viktor Krum stepped forward beside Karkaroff.

Harry caught Viktors eye and nodded at him.

“Potter,” Viktor said, stepping over to shake Harry’s hand. “You have been vell?”

“Better now that the tournaments starting,” Harry grinned. “Dumbledore cancelled quidditch, didn’t he?”

“You cannot cancel quidditch!” Krum said, insulted and indignant. “You vill need to practice if you vish to be recruited.”

“Good thing you’re here then, eh?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Krum said with a disgusted look towards Dumbledore. “Ve practice tomorrow.”

“Brill,” Harry beamed. “If you want to sit with us at the feast, you can. We’re on the end of the green table closest to the door.”

“Thank you, I vill see you inside.”

Harry was busy talking to Krum and missed George’s teasing whisper to his twin;

“Forget the French, the international seeker is your real competition Freddie.”

When Harry and his friends made it back inside he grinned when he saw Krum hesitating next to their table.

“I can’t believe you made friends with Viktor Krum,” Ron muttered.

“Must be a seeker thing,” Blaise shrugged, eyeing the Beauxbaton girls who were seated at the Ravenclaw table. “Graci,” he sighed, “Harry I think we should have went to France when it was offered.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Blaise winked and managed to flirt just by walking past the giggling group of girls. He noticed that the blonde girl from outside did not giggle at Blaise and instead rolled her own eyes as she unwound her scarf. Harry could admit the blonde girl was rather pretty, sort of like a mixture between Draco and Luna. She had big eyes like Luna, except hers were light blue instead of silver. Her skin tone and hair coloring were a dead on match for Draco’s, but she had softer features when directly compared to Draco’s pointier ones. She smiled politely when she caught Harry’s eye and gave a pointed look to Blaise, who was now practically strutting across the room.

“Guess someone doesn’t find Blaise charming,” Harry laughed, tilting his head towards Fred. “Hey, what’re you two on about?” He hadn’t noticed until Fred’s lack of a response but Fred and Susan had their heads tilted together and were whispering something fiercely back and forth.

“Nothing,” Fred said, straightening back up and wrapping his arm around Harry. “Just some business Darlin.”

Harry squinted at them, but ignored it as they approached their table.

“Krum, this is Fred, Susan, Luna, George, Ron, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Hermione, and Neville,” Harry said, pointing at each student as he said their name. “C’mon, we can sit if you want.”

“Thank you,” Krum said, sitting across from Harry. Harry would have told him that was Fred’s spot except Fred took Susan’s spot right next to him and stretched his arm across Harry’s shoulders slowly. Harry gave him a curious look, but before he could ask about the change in their usual seating arrangement, Dumbledore stood up and called for attention.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

“Who’re the extra chairs for?” Ron asked, drawing the groups attention to the Head Table where there was one extra chair on either side of Madame Maxine and Karkaroff, both of whom were seated beside Dumbledore.

“Dunno,” Neville said, his forehead scrunched up as he looked up at the table. “Guess two more judges?”

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” Dumbledore continued. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

Harry’s friends chatted along happily, drawing Krum, who seemed to be a quiet sort like Neville, in to the conversation when they could. Harry kept a close eye on the overly full Hall, feeling slightly on edge with all the new students.

“You’ll be entering for sure then?” Fred asked Krum.

“Yes,” Krum nodded around a forkful of some weird foreign food he seemed to like. “I am hoping to win.”

“Aren’t we all,” Harry agreed.

“You are seventeen?” Krum narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“He’s fourteen,” Fred said, with an odd emphasis on his age. “And he’s going to try and sneak in.”

“Vhy vould you do that?” Krum asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Harry’s mad, he can’t help it,” Luna said with a sweet smile for Harry.

“Thousands galleon prize money doesn’t hurt either,” George said.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Hermione hissed.

“Take that baaaack,” Susan sang out softly. “Right now.”

“It’s fine,” Harry waved his hand casually. “Mione will see who’s an idiot when I’m the champion.”

Krum watched them all banter with an amused look on his face.

“You all are very odd,” he said. “It is different here.”

“Harry’s the oddest,” Fred said fondly with a sappy kiss to Harry’s head. “But he’s the best.”

Harry scowled at Fred without any real heat, and they changed the topic to quidditch during desserts. Ron, finally overcoming his uncharacteristic quietness, talked enthusiastically about his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons.

“Look who arrived,” Fred muttered to George with a sharp look at the Head Table. Harry looked up and saw that the two empty seats had been filled by Ludo Bagman and Mister Crouch, the wizard who demanded Snape’s arrest. Snape caught Harry’s eye and rolled his own with a pointed glance towards Crouch.

Harry would feel much worse for him, except Snape was still refusing to help him sneak in to the tournament so he just smirked and shrugged.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, finally he’d get to find out who he needed to impress to enter the tournament.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —”

“The what?” Harry muttered.

Fred shrugged.

“— just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There were a lot of cheers for Bagman, who apparently used to be a popular Quidditch player, and hardly any at all for Crouch. Harry noticed that Fred and George exchanged another look and refused to clap for Bagman.

Dumbledore held his arms out for silence once the students were done with their polite clapping.

“The casket, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

Harry and George exchanged a smile at the last bit. Harry wasn’t afraid of any danger, and clearly neither was George.

Harry was relieved that Fred agreed to not enter though. There was really only one other person he needed to convince not to try and join. He eyed Ron carefully. Ron was a gambler. He liked to make money. He probably wasn’t entering for the same reasons Harry was...

Mentally crossing his fingers that his instinct wasn’t going to lead him wrong, it rarely did truthfully, Harry leaned towards Ron while Dumbledore pulled a giant golden goblet out of the casket.

“I’ll give you 200 galleons if I win if you agree to not enter,” he murmured quietly. He’d already told Fred he’d split the money with him, so if he gave Ron 200 then he’d still have 300 galleons. Which he wasn’t too fussed about. Harry just wanted the chance to prove himself and show off a bit. He’d up his offer to the full 500 if that’s what it took to make sure Ron’s life wasn’t in danger.

“Why?” Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

“Deal or no deal?” he asked.

Ron studied Harry carefully for a few moments before shrugging as well.

“Deal,” he said.

Harry sat back in his seat, relieved. Now George was the only one of his friends that was going to enter, but they weren’t too close so he wasn’t as worried about him. He turned his attention back to Dumbledore as he was explaining how the students who wanted to enter just had to put their name in the Goblet, and the winners would be chosen during the feast tomorrow.

“Age up potion?” Fred murmured as Dumbledore explained an age line he was using.

“Fuck.” Harry looked up at Fred and felt irritated now. “I’m allergic to potions,” he hissed, ignoring Dumbledore’s explanation of the magical contract the champions would enter.

“Think your cloak would work?” Susan asked.

“Guess I’ll try.” Harry grit his teeth in annoyance now. Trust his stupid damn illness to try and keep him from entering. If he hadn’t spent so long in St Mungo’s after taking the last potion, he’d say screw it and take one anyway.

Harry and his friends got up at Dumbledore’s dismissal.

“See you tomorrow then?” Harry asked Krum. “Reckon you’re sleeping in your ship? If not you can bunk with us.”

“Ve are sleeping in our ship,” Krum said. “But I vill be practicing in the morning. You could join me.”

“Brill,” Harry said eagerly. He’d been looking forward to a chance to see what an actual professional quidditch player thought of his flying ever since the first time Krum wrote to him. “I’ll see you then.”

Krum nodded at them all before he stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched off towards his waiting classmates and headmaster. The latter of whom gave Harry a sharp look. Harry just cocked his head to the side and smiled lazily at the man, he wasn’t worried about a former Death Eater who was too scared to even stay in the United Kingdom after turning in his fellow scumbags.

“Meet up after you get done flying with Viktor bloody Krum to try and enter?” George asked Harry.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Harry said. He wished his other friends goodnight and headed down to his dorm with Fred.

Harry waited until they were both changed and hidden behind a privacy charm to ask Fred about his weird behavior today.

“What’s up with you today?” Harry asked, propping up on his side so he could see Fred better. “You said you’d tell me later about the Cup, and then you were glaring at Bagman, what’s going on?”

“Bagman owes us money,” Fred said bluntly. “He gave us Leprechaun gold for our win and now he’s dodging our owls.”

Harry blinked at him for a long moment while he processed that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Chapter Text

Severus woke up early on Halloween morning, his stomach churning with anticipation. Halloween had been a terrible date ever since that fateful one in 1981, but the last three had been especially intolerable.

He sipped his coffee in his sitting room, before the sun even rose, and considered the last three Halloweens.

1991, Potter was attacked by a troll, subsequently killed the troll, and Severus had to defend him to Albus and Minerva as a scrappy hero and not a budding Dark Lord.

1992, Potter was caught in front of a message declaring the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and a petrified cat. Severus then spent the evening swearing that Potter was nothing like a young Tom Riddle and that Albus’ fears were baseless.

And Severus’ personal favorite, 1993. Sirius Black broke in to Hogwarts, terrorized Potter with a knife only to be disarmed. Severus was summoned to the Hospital Wing and Potter still carries the damn dagger on him to this day.

And now? Severus glanced down at his exposed forearm and grimaced at the sight. This Halloween there would be a foreign former Death Eater, a mad ex-auror, two high ranking ministry officials, one of whom arrested Severus on a murder charge only months ago, a foreign Headmistress, and two dozen foreign students in the castle all preparing to watch and participate in a newly revised tournament with a staggering death toll. A tournament that Potter has been begging for information on how to join since Severus told him of it. None of which accounted for the odd circumstances that led Albus to appoint Alastor Moody: the darkening mark on Severus’ forearm, the disappearance of the Ministry witch in Albania, and the vision Potter allowed in his mind over the summer.

No, Severus would be a naive fool to believe that Potter’s accursed luck for having terrible incidents happen on Halloween would not hold true again today.

And so, he planned. Hence, why he was up before the sun. He finished his coffee and determinedly strode to the Slytherin dorm entrance. He conjured a chair, disillusioned himself, placed the appropriate silencing charms on his person, and made himself at home in the corridor until Potter awoke.

Some may say that he was taking his resolution to keep Potter away from life threats too far (well, Minerva said that when Severus had fretted over the day during their newly resumed weekly tea nights. Which were nothing more than an opportunity to drink scotch and complain about their students, but it was a ritual Severus had surprisingly missed while Minerva had been so openly against his ward in recent years) but they (Minerva) had never been a spy, nor a guardian to the most unlucky child to enter the castle. Potter was a danger unto himself on an average day. The child had more difficulty making it through a normal day than any other human being Severus had ever encountered. The 31st of October just seemed to have it out for him on top of his usual streak of bad luck and poor decision making.

Severus pulled his book out of his pocket as he sat outside the Slytherin entrance. He had expected to be there at least an hour and a half before Potter left for breakfast, and was therefor surprised when the portrait opened not twenty minutes later revealing Potter...

... and God damned Frederick Weasley.

Both sporting their flying gear and bedraggled hair.

Severus was going to end up cursing Frederick Weasley by the end of the year, if not the day, he was sure of it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Potter was saying to Frederick. “I dunno if Krum knows much about your position or not.”

“If you don’t mind I’d like to go,” Frederick smiled in the cheerful way that Severus himself could never accomplish. “Even if I don’t fly with you guys, you still look great on a broom so I’m not wasting my time.”

Frederick winked at Potter, who laughed and shoved his arm.

“C’mon then,” Potter said, casually lacing their hands together. “I don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

Severus silently rose from his seat and trailed behind the two boys. He listened to their easy banter and Frederick’s shameless flirting as they made their way through the castle and out to the Quidditch pitch. He rolled his eyes when he saw that Viktor Krum, Karkaroff’s prized student he rambled on about during dinner last night, was waiting on the pitch for the boys.

Well, for Potter anyway.

“Harry,” Krum said. “I did not expect your friend, vat is your name?”

“Fred,” Frederick said, offering his hand to the other boy. “I’m Harry’s boyfriend.”

If Severus were not determined to go unnoticed he would have snorted at Frederick’s jealousy. Potter, the oblivious idiot that he was, just summoned his and Weasley’s broomsticks, not noticing the way Frederick and Krum were now sizing each other up.

“You are ready?” Krum turned to Potter with an eager look that matched Potter’s current enthusiasm spot on. Severus had felt badly for his ward on the first night when he realized that there would be no quidditch this year. He knew Potter had been crushed, and took it rather personal, as it was his first year as captain of his team. He was pleased to see that Potter would instead have an opportunity to train with a professional player.

And if it irritated Frederick, then all the better in Severus’ opinion.

Severus watched as the three young men flew around in the sky for hours. He was begrudgingly impressed when Frederick quickly shed his jealousy and enthusiastically began flying and interacting with Krum. And he was equal parts pleased and disgruntled when Potter began truly showing off and was heavily complimented by Krum.

“Vat you must do Harry is have memories sent to teams,” Krum said once they landed, his eyes alight with a now recognizable quidditch induced manic gleam. “I vould be pleased to have my captain come vatch you at your next match.”

“But if they liked him, Harry would only be the reserve seeker,” Frederick pointed out. “And we both know he’s too good to be a reserve.”

Krum grunted in bitter agreement and Severus felt a spark of pride in Potter. How many students could say they had a chance to fly professionally while they were still in school?

He would be sure to mention this to Minerva during their next tea time. The old witch would die from envy for not landing Potter in her house.

Severus followed the boys to the now full Hall and slipped through the teachers entrance and took his place at the Head Table.

“Busy morning?” Minerva murmured with a knowing look in her eyes.

“It is scarcely seven thirty and I have already seen him risk his life on a broomstick,” Severus said baldly. “I believe a little paranoia is warranted.”

“Careful,” Minerva hummed. “Next thing you know you’ll be screeching about constant vigilance.” She shot a distasteful look towards Moody, the driving force between mending their previously affable relationship.

“Be sure to have me killed quickly and painfully if that becomes the case,” Severus quipped.

“So I should involve the lovely Miss Bones?”

Severus scoffed over his breakfast at the mere thought. Minerva’s dry wit and quick banter had been sorely missed in recent years. Perhaps he would send Moody a thank you card for irritating the witch in to venting her frustrations to Severus over his lax hold of Hogwarts rules on punishments and proper teaching methods. After an hour of ranting, Minerva had summoned a bottle of scotch and their weekly tea nights resumed easily.

“Your snake is plotting something,” Minerva said, her sharp eyes on Potter. “Anything involving both Weasley twins, Lovegood, Bones, and Nott is sure to be catastrophic.”

Severus looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that those students did indeed all have their heads bent together conspiratorially, which promised nothing but chaos. And if Miss Granger’s indignant expression was any judge, it would be an exceptional level of chaos.

“Potter is attempting to enter the tournament,” Severus sighed as he guessed at the groups plot. “If we had not helped Albus place the wards around the goblet ourselves, I would be worried about his success.”

“I believe Mister George Weasley is planning on using an aging potion to cross the line,” Minerva said with a mischievous glint to her eyes. “Perhaps I’ll join you in babysitting your child to see what happens.”

Severus hid his smile behind his glass of water as he imagined the boys attempting such a menial maneuver to cross the line.

Then of course he nearly choked as he debated on if Potter had considered his medication when plotting his entry to the tournament.

He probably hadn’t. Or he believed the reward was worth the risk.

Which, it absolutely was not.

“Excuse me,” he said hastily, making his way quickly towards the scheming group.

“Harry, I need to speak with you,” he said curtly as soon as he approached his ward.

“‘Kay,” Potter blinked up at him and remained firmly in his seat. “What’s up?”

“As you are plotting your pointless schemes to enter the tournament I would simply like to remind you of your life threatening allergy before you consume any potions,” Severus said sternly. “Your funeral will lack the pomp you desire when I inform your friend Rita that you died due to your own foolish actions and a sub-standardly brewed aging potion.”

The Weasley Twin who was not seated beside Potter, George Weasley, looked insulted, but it was Lovegood who spoke up.

“It’s not substandard Professor, I brewed it myself,” she said in her typically absent-minded tone that hid the sharp mind Severus knew she possessed. “I think it’s perfect but if you’re worried about the boys’ health, you’re welcome to test it.”

“You brewed an OWL level potion?” he asked, ignoring the implication that he would worry about any students heath aside from Potters. He was not skeptical of her success, Lovegood was a potions prodigy, but he was unsure of her motives to undertake such a time consuming task.

“George helped,” she smiled up at Severus in the fearless way that only Potter’s friends did. “He’s going to prank the next five students who are rude to me since it took me five hours to brew.”

Severus snorted. “5 points to Ravenclaw for such a Slytherin deal,” he told her before turning his attention back to Potter. “Harry- you will not partake in any ill advised potions today?”

“No sir,” Potter said. His voice was polite, which did not bode well for his plans. “I’ve got a few different ideas.”

“Of course you do,” Severus muttered. “I suppose it is a waste of my breathe to inform you that the line is foolproof, which means you simple minded dunderheads will be unable to cross it?”

“It is,” Granger huffed.

Severus would share a sympathetic look with the witch if it were not for a traumatizing summer spent watching her emerge from the boys’ bedroom in Theodore’s night clothes.

“Very well, I will simply be on hand to witness your failure,” Severus said curtly, turning on his heel and making his way back to Minerva.

“Disillusioned still or are you done pretending today?” Potter yelled at his back, his ever expanding pack of misfits laughing boisterously at his words.

Severus hated Halloween. Some days he believed he may hate Potter.

He didn’t. He was as fond of Potter as a person could be, but the brat was infuriating.

Mostly he cursed his own bad luck for ever encouraging Potter to feel at ease around him.

He fondly remembered when his students were too frightened to do more that whisper in his presence, and now Potter has nearly a dozen of them chatting him up, smiling at him, and bordering the line between cheek and disrespect.

“I hope he fails many times today,” he muttered to Minerva, receiving a sympathetic pat on his shoulder from the witch.

And fail many times Potter did.

Severus leaned against the stone wall of the Entrance Hall and watched with bemusement as Potter and George Weasley attempted several different methods of making it past the age line.

”Broom,” Potter demanded, his hand out and his eyes hard as he began his fourth attempt at crossing the line. George Weasley had conceded with good grace and stood beside his brother, who interestingly had not attempted to join the tournament even once.

“I can see how he wound up in your house,” Minerva chuckled, eying the long black beard that remained as proof of Potter’s many previous attempts. “Determination like that? Tsk, Gryffindor didn’t have a chance,” she clucked.

“I think the brash foolishness he is currently presenting makes him an excellent candidate for Gryffindor,” Severus disagreed.

They fell silent as Potter’s beloved Firebolt smacked in his hand and he mounted it in front of the eagerly waiting crowd. Severus and Minerva had debated on disallowing this ridiculous farce to take place, but they believed if they other students witnessed Potter’s fruitless efforts, they would be dissuaded from attempting it themselves.

Potter backed away from the Goblet, kicked off from the ground, leaned forward, flew over the line and-

”GOD DAMNIT,” Potter swore loudly.

“10 points from Slytherin,” Severus called casually from his spot amidst the students who were crowing with laughter and exchanging bets as Potter was once again expelled from the Goblet’s vicinity and his beard lengthened. Severus would typically never publicly dock his house points, but he could hardly stand by as his student, and his publicly acknowledged ward, blatantly swore in front of half of the castle.

“Lue, bring out Plan E,” Bones cried stubbornly.

Lovegood danced forward, Potter’s owl perched on her shoulder.

“Alright Sevvie, all you have to do is take this paper-“ Potter stuck a parchment in his owls beak and stroked the fuzzy black bird tenderly, “-and drop it in that goblet. Can you do that buddy?”

“What attempt is this now?” Pomona asked, walking up to join Severus and Minerva.

“His fifth,” Minerva said, her eyes dancing with laughter and her mouth curved up in a rare, but genuine, smile. “I may have to send this memory to Sirius, I believe young Harry is more of a force than James and Sirius were combined in their school days.”

Pomona laughed and they all fell silent as Potter’s owl obediently took off from his shoulder and flew across the line aaaand-

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Despite not even crossing the line this time, Potter and his owl both were zapped ten feet further away from the Goblet and Potter’s beard lengthened once again. It was now trailing behind him like a ridiculous black veil.

“10 points from Slytherin,” Severus said, ignoring Potter’s hiss of anger. It was a mark of how entertaining Potter’s attempts were that none of the watching Slytherin’s even complained about their now fifty point deficit.

Or perhaps, more accurately, none of the Slytherin’s wanted to risk Potter’s wrath by complaining about their points.

Potter had single handedly won them the House Cup the last three years regardless.

“Seems unfair to dock Harry for picking up on your language,” Pomona said slyly.

“Life is unfair,” Severus responded drily.

By Potter’s seventh attempt, the entire school, including Albus, were watching with mirth in their eyes and were openly betting on his success.

By his tenth Severus wondered exactly how long his beard could grow.

And finally, his thirteenth attempt, Bones announced to the disappointed crowd that it was the last one.

“Plan M,” she yelled. “Last try now.”

“Suppose it’s my go then?” Johnathan Abbott, a seventh year Hufflepuff who attended the World Cup with Potter, stepped forward.

“Here,” Potter slapped a piece of parchment in Abbott’s hand. “If this works I’m going to blow up this entire Hall,” he said flatly. Many students chuckled at that, yet only the Slytherin’s edged towards the doorways.

“Oh this is my favorite one,” Albus said happily beside Minerva. “I thought the students would try this first.”

“Harry wouldn’t want someone else to take credit for his entrance,” Filius squeaked.

Severus inclined his head in agreement. Potter would be furious if this worked, his credit would have to be shared with the Abbott boy.

Severus and the entire Hall held their breath as Abbott stepped over the line and walked right up to the Goblet.

“Here goes,” he said cheerfully before dropping the parchment in the Goblet.

“YESSSS!!” Potter actually jumped up and threw a victorious fist in the air as his name was dropped in the Goblet. “FINAL-“

And then Abbott and Potter were both blown away from the Goblet and sprouted long handlebar mustaches before they even hit the ground. The Goblet spit out Potter’s parchment with a long red flame and the students and staff watched as it burnt to ash in front of them.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“10 points from Slytherin.”

“Thirty points to Slytherin for an entertaining morning and a demonstration of outstanding determination,” Albus called, his beard twitching with repressed laughter and his eyes sparkling like mad.

Severus shrugged and inspected his nails in an effort to appear aloof of the proceedings.

Albus’ reward was, for once, not misguided. Potter certainly was entertaining as he wasted his morning trying to enter the tournament. Severus was pleased to see that every attempt was unsuccessful though. Despite being confident in the wards the Professor’s had built last night, he would not have put it past Potter to find a way around them.

Though Severus sighed internally at the blatant favoritism he would need to show in the upcoming weeks to revive Slytherin from their current loss of 100 points.

God damned Harry Potter.

Severus was satisfied that Potter had fulfilled his daily quota for idiotic ideas after his defeat in the Entrance Hall and gave up on trailing him for the rest of the afternoon.

The fact that Potter smirked at where Severus was standing disillusioned in an empty corridor before he began kissing Frederick... enthusiastically... was inconsequential.

“I think it’s an odd romance, but sweet,” Pomona said while Severus was cursing both boys out in the staff room. “Fred’s quite different than Harry, isn’t he?”

Minerva snorted over her cup of tea.

“Harry and Fred are not sweet, it’s an entirely new generation of chaos. I hoped they would never meet to be honest.”

“How did they end up meeting?” Pomona asked. “Through Ronald?”

“If I eavesdropped correctly, I think Fred was quite taken with Harry after their duel in Fred’s fourth year,” Filius squeaked.

The Hogwarts staff were truly irredeemable gossipers.

Severus threw himself in the conversation once the topic shifted away from his ward and toward the students who were actually able to enter the tournament.

Severus drug himself to the feast that night with poor grace. He despised this tournament, and he despised the extra intruders the castle was filled with.

He was in the clear minority as the Great Hall was filled with eager chatter from excited students and staff. He ignored the mindless chatter and silently debated with himself as he eyed his glass of wine.

It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would need to remain alert.

However... It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would prefer to already have at least a mild amount of alcohol in his system to deal with it.

Severus glared at the wine glass before deciding that if he could keep Potter out of Azkaban after a glass of firewhisky, he could certainly defend him from whatever chaos he caused tonight with a glass of wine.

Severus amused himself during the feast by ignoring the looks of thinly veiled rage aimed at him by Crouch Senior, and instead fantasized about carrying out plans of revenge he had formulated with Barty back in their Hogwarts days.

Some nights, when Severus considered all Potter had done so far, he admired the child for dispatching of his friends abusive parent.

Other times, Severus recalled how Barty, Regulus, and himself were easily recruited by the Dark Lord due to their shared histories of abusive parents and shuddered to realize that Potter recruited Theodore with similar tactics.

But for now, Severus indulged himself with imagining the many different ways that Barty had discussed getting revenge on his father.

He was remembering a particularly complicated plot, one that only Barty’s Ravenclaw mind could plan, involving a chimera, a fever reducing potion, and the Ebublio Jinx, when the desserts were cleared and Albus called the room to attention.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Albus with a broad smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — Albus waved towards the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

Severus took a deep drink of his wine as Albus took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, blue-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... Severus rolled his eyes at the sense of melodrama filling the room.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

Albus caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Severus watched as Potter’s friend, Viktor Krum, rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Albus; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Igor, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

Severus scoffed at Igor’s blatant favoritism. The man had one famous student and believed he was the only one that mattered.

The fact that Severus considered his own overtly famous student to be his favorite was inconsequential. Potter was his ward. Igor was an attention seeking idiot who clings to the coattails of others to raise his own station.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Albus, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“Ow ow,” Fred Weasley whistled loudly from the his seat across from Potter at the Slytherin table. Severus hoped Potter or Bones smacked him for catcalling at a guest student in their castle. Particularly when he was seated with Potter, who was as close to Weasley as he was with Bones and Lovegood.

A young woman, who must be at least a quarter veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

Olympe clapped politely and sent a disapproving look towards where the remainder of her students were creating a quiet spectacle. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with the students’ excitement you could almost taste it.

The Hogwarts champion next...

Severus prayed with all his might to any God available that it would not be one of his Slytherins. He could not handle it if he had to worry about one of them competing in this death trap of a tournament this year on top of the stress of the darkening mark on his left arm.

Keeping one of his students alive was challenge enough, he hardly needed to worry about two of them this year.

“The Hogwarts champion,” Albus called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Mister Diggory, one of Pomona’s sixth year students, made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. The applause for Diggory went on so long that it was some time before Albus could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Albus called happily as at last the noise died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

Albus suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

Severus felt his chest tighten with a sudden pang of anxiety as the fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

This was not supposed to happen. And when things that were not supposed to happen did happen, particularly on Halloween, it usually involved-

“Harry Potter.”

Severus’ eyes flew to the green eyed gaze of his ward just in time to see the child’s (for it did not matter that Potter was now 14, he was a child in Severus’ mind) eyes shift from a startled look of surprise to one of absolute delight.

Severus did not need to be beside him to interpret his words as Potter stated his belief that this horrifying turn of events was “brill”.

Which, it absolutely, undoubtedly, was not.

There was nothing ‘brill’ about it at all.

Chapter Text

”Harry Potter.”

Harry’s head snapped up as Dumbledore called his name.

“How?” Someone seated with him breathed, but Harry hardly heard them over the sudden buzzing of the students in the hall.

“Oh, fuckin’ brill,” Harry beamed and jumped to his feet.

“Harry, up here if you would,” Dumbledore said. His eyes were hard and his tone was stern, but Harry didn’t care.

He was in the Tournament.

Harry strode up to the staff door that the other champions went in with his head held high and an eager smile on his face. This was brilliant.

“Through there,” McGonagall said with an interesting expression of disapproval, fear, and amusement in her face.

Harry glanced at Snape before he walked in the door and blanched at the dark eyed fury he had. Well he couldn’t blame Harry. He’d watched as Harry lost 130 points and failed 13 times trying to enter the tournament.

Someone had done him a real favor.

He owed whoever it was a huge favor.

Which... he wasn’t thrilled about. But being in the tournament was wicked! It was all he’d wanted since Snape first told him about it. So... hopefully whoever entered him just didn’t want anything mad.

Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Diggory was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

“‘Arry, yes?” she said with a kind smile. “What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

“Nope.” Harry was all but bouncing in place as the other champions looked at him. “I’m in. I’m the fourth champion.”

The other champions stared at him. Diggory looked rather nonplussed, which was insulting. But Krum gave Harry a bitter grin and shook his head.

“You did warn me,” he grunted.

“I did,” Harry grinned.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He grabbed Harry’s arm and Harry, who already had a score to settle with Bagman, jerked his arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me ever again,” he hissed, his eyes bright and his mouth twisted up in anger.

“Sorry, got away from myself for a moment...” Bagman muttered, leaping away from Harry. “Uh, gentlemen and lady- may I introduce the fourth Triwizard Champion?”

Diggory and Krum both shook their heads, amusement pulling their lips up reluctantly. Fleur, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, gaping at Fleur in a way that had Harry’s shoulders tightening in irritation. Fleur was a pretty girl, not a fuckin’ prize to be stared after.

“No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

“But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” she said with a soft smile towards Harry. “’E cannot compete. ’E is too young, ‘e will be ‘urt.”

“Well... it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and looking down at Harry who sneered at him. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet... I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged... Harry will just have to do the best he —”

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Dumbledore, followed closely by Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, McGonagall, and Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before McGonagall closed the door.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

Somewhere under Harry’s coursing excitement he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy? Harry nearly bared his teeth at Fleur before remembering his mission from the Contessa to build allies with the French students.

Still though, what a fuckin thing to say.

He’d remind her of this when he won the tournament.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice.

“Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

“C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many sparkling rings was resting upon Fleur’s shoulder. “’Ogwarts cannot ’ave two champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

“I am aware of the oddity here,” Dumbledore said calmly. He looked down at Harry, who met his gaze evenly. “Harry, were you successful in putting your name in the Goblet?”

“Nope,” Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and surreptitiously held on to his dagger from Black. “Think everyone saw me bugger that up, didn’t they?”

Dumbledore’s beard twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile or laughter. Which irritated Harry. He wasn’t here to entertain Dumbledore.

“He is lying!” Karkaroff roared. “He put his name in the goblet!”

”Yeah... I did it ten times, Sevvie tried once, that snake tried once, and Johnny did it once. Didn’t work, did it?” Harry tilted his head to the side as he curiously studied Karkaroff. Everyone saw him enter the tournament thirteen times. Why wouldn’t he take credit for it now if he had succeeded?

It’s not like he had wanted to look like a failure in front of the entire fuckin’ school.

”I do not believe you,” Karkaroff sneered. “You have clearly found a way to enter despite the RULES!”

”Weird that you’d worry about a few fuckin’ rules, yeah?” Harry smiled sharply, too many teeth showing to look anything resembling politeness.

McGonagall snorted before covering it with a light cough.

“Language,” Snape murmured, coming to stand behind Harry and slowly placing a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, do you have any idea how your name came out of the Goblet?”

“None,” Harry said honestly. “I’ll take Veritaserum if you want me to.”

“Yes!” Karkaroff said with a nasty look at Harry. “Interrogate him! He is lying!”

“I would also like ‘im to be interrogated,” Madame Maxine said. “If ‘e did not do it then you would want the culprit caught, yes?”

“Harry cannot take Veritaserum due to an allergy,” Snape said, his hand flexing tightly on Harry’s shoulder for an odd moment. “Apologies.”

“Convenient,” Karkaroff sneered. “I’ve never heard of a wizard with an allergy to potions.”

“Bet you’ve never heard of one surviving the killing curse either,” Harry smirked.

”Enough,” Dumbledore cut in. “I do not believe Harry entered himself in this tournament.”

”Of course he didn’t,” McGonagall said with her arms tightly crossed. “I lost 40 Sickles to Pomona because he couldn’t get across the line. We all saw it.”

”You bet I’d make it in?” Harry asked her, oddly touched. “Ta Professor.”

”I thought if anyone was idiotic and determined enough to break the rules it would be you,” McGonagall said, her voice dry but her eyes sparkling.

Harry shrugged then stuck his chin out as the seven adults and three other champions in the room surveyed him.

“Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice bitter, “you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Bagman wiped his round face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked creepy, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in a curt voice that made Harry flex his own hand tightly.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Ah, yet I believe as Harry is a minor and I am his guardian, he was unable to legally consent to a binding contract,” Snape said smoothly. “And I certainly do not consent. He will not be competing.”

Harry spun his head around to look at Snape with badly concealed betrayal.

“You can’t do that!” he cried. He turned to Crouch, someone he’d rather not plead to but if Snape was going to try and pull him out he’d have to. “Can he?”

Crouch looked thoughtful before grimacing.

“I am unsure on the legalities here,” he said tightly.

“Allow me to make it simple,” Snape said. “Harry is a minor. The Goblet cannot accept a binding agreement from a minor. It is not legal. I am perfectly willing to call a barrister if needed.”

“Well... Harry’s name was chosen...” Bagman said hesitantly.

“Let me say this in a way that even an irredeemable moron like yourself can understand,” Snape said calmly from behind Harry. “Potter. Will. Not. Be. Competing.”

“Yes. Potter. Will.” Harry said, grinding his teeth. Snape was ruining this.

”Over my dead body,” Snape hissed, his hand tightening on Harry’s shoulder. Harry ripped out of his grasp and spun so he could glare up at him.

”I was chosen. I’m competing.”

“Why don’t we all take a moment here and allow Severus to call on a barrister to sort this out?” Dumbledore suggested, stepping forward and holding his hands up calmly. “Miss Delaclour, Mister Krum, Cedric- why don’t you retire for the evening? I’m sure your classmates will be eager to celebrate with you.”

“Not so fast,” Bagman said as Snape sent off a quick patronus.

To Malfoy.

Which was fine actually.

Harry liked Snape quite a bit, but Malfoy was bound to him.

“We have to give them instructions for the first task!” Bagman continued. “Barty, would you?”

Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

“Yes,” he said, “instructions. Yes... the first task...”

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry hoped he had some horrible disease. It would serve him right for arresting Snape.

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he told Diggory, Fleur, and Krum, with small glances towards Harry, “so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...

“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

This just got better and better.

“No tests?” Harry said happily. “Brill.”

“You will be taking them because you will not be competing,” Snape hissed, ignoring Krum and Diggory’s low chuckles.

“Will too,” Harry said. He hated repeating himself but if Snape was going to repeat himself then Harry would as well. “I was chosen, yeah?”

McGonagall scoffed and Dumbledore let out an exasperated sigh.

“Olympe, Igor, if you’d like to stay and find out the results from the barrister Severus summoned?” Dumbledore offered.

“You will inform me of ze decision,” Madame Maxine said, placing her hand back on Fleur’s shoulder. “Zank you.”

“Night Fleur,” Harry called charmingly as she strode out beneath her Headmistresses large hand. “Sleep tight.”

Fleur looked over her shoulder at Harry and he swore he saw a glimmer of amusement there before she snorted, rather elegantly honestly, and quickly left.

“Guess I’ll call it a night too then,” Diggory said with an outright smile for Harry. “Good luck Harry.”

“I will be staying,” Karkaroff drew himself up to his full height. “I want to ensure there are no further miscarriages of justice. Viktor, I will meet you on the ship.”

Harry ignored Diggory and Krum as they left and watched the fireplace. Snape told Malfoy to floo to this room and Harry would need to intercept him before he arrived.

After only about another minute of tense silence, the floo flared to life and Harry stepped towards it quickly.

”Do not forget who you swore loyalty to,” Harry whispered harshly, yet quietly, as he made a show of (unwillingly) shaking hands with a bewildered Malfoy. ”Understand?” he murmured.

“I am pleased to see you as well Heir Potter-Black,” Malfoy said clearly. “I have been well, thank you. I will inform Narcissa you send your well-wishes.”

Harry admired the way that Malfoy was able to keep a cordial mask up, despite his obvious confusion. The rest of the adults gathered around them quickly and Malfoy attempted polite greetings- which were ignored.

“Harry here was just chosen as the fourth Triwizard champion,” Bagman said. “He says he didn’t enter, but just having your name drawn constitutes a binding contract-“

“But as Harry is a minor and I, as his legal guardian, do not give permission then the contract is moot. Correct?” Snape asked Malfoy.

Malfoy, damned Slytherin genius that he is, glanced down at Harry’s reflection in his snakehead cane topper while humming aloud thoughtfully. Harry shook his head very slightly.

“Hmm,” Malfoy said. “What is the Ministry’s stance on this Crouch?”

Crouch turned a bland face to Malfoy before grimacing again.

Harry had no idea what his problem was, but if he kept being a prat to Harry’s allies they were going to have even more problems.

“It is an irregular occurrence,” he repeated dully. “I am unsure of the legalities. Potter was chosen, which binds a contract. But he is a minor with a legal guardian.”

“He never should have been entered!” Karkaroff shrieked. “He’s a liar and a cheater!”

“Watch yourself,” McGonagall snapped. “We all saw him trying to enter all day long. He says he wasn’t successful and that’s that.”

“Then who did?!” Karkaroff demanded.

“That is the question of the evening, isn’t it?”

Their odd group, except Harry who had looked up the moment the door opened, spun around as Moody clunked in to the room.

“You!” Karkaroff cried. Harry felt Malfoy shift backwards a bit as Moody stepped up to the group.

“Me,” Moody repeated calmly, his magical eye stuck on Harry. “What’s the problem here? Potter was chosen, he competes.”

Harry gave Moody an approving nod. Maybe he was accepting of Harry’s offer to be allies after all.

“Ta,” he said.

“He is a minor,” Snape snapped. “He is a minor with a life-threatening potions allergy. How will we treat him if he is injured during the tasks? He will die.”

... fuck.

Harry hadn’t actually thought about that.

“Maybe whoever entered him is hoping Potter will die,” Moody said.

“Moody! What a thing to say!” Bagman cried, glancing down at Harry nervously before looking up at Malfoy. “Malfoy- er- what does the law say?”

Harry beamed when Malfoy gave Snape an apologetic look.

“Heir Potter-Black accepted his Heirships and will be recognized legally as an adult who resides with a parent, no different than a seventeen year old living with their family. I will check, of course, but I am confident that the law supports Harry competing.”

“Then he competes,” Crouch said dully. “That is that.”

”Yes!” Harry cheered victoriously.

“BED. NOW.” Snape roared, clearly furious. “Lucius, Albus, I will speak with you both later.”

“See you in November,” Harry called happily to the newly arguing adults behind him. He ignored Dumbledore as the old man called out a calm goodnight and allowed Snape to guide him to the exiting corridor.

“You stupid fool,” Snape hissed as soon as they were alone. “How did you enter?”

“I didn’t,” Harry looked earnestly up at Snape. “You know I wanted to, tried all fuckin’ day didn’t I? But I didn’t get it. Someone just did me a favor I guess,” he shrugged.

“It is not a FAVOR!” Snape yelled. Harry took a couple quick steps away from him. If Snape wanted to scream, fine, but Harry wasn’t going to have someone screaming in his face.

“If you did not do this the whoever did is an adult within this castle hoping you will die,” he said in a harsh tone that was hardly better than the yelling had been.

Harry snorted. Snape was acting like that was a new occurrence.

“Suppose they’ll be disappointed then,” Harry said as he edged closer to the dungeon entrance. “Cause I’m going to win.”

“YOU ARE NOT GOING TO WIN! YOU ARE GOING TO DIE YOU IDIOTIC CHILD! THIS IS NOT A GAME POTTER!” Snape yelled, his eyes wild and his teeth bared. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT CHALLENGES YOU WILL BE FORCED TO FACE?!”

“I dunno why you’re yelling at me.” Harry clenched his fists and crossed his arms across his chest in an effort to keep his voice steady. “You know I didn’t do it.”

“You told Lucius to back you up the moment he arrived, didn’t you?”

“Nope. That was later. The moment he arrived I told him he was bound to me.” Harry knew he was being rude, being insolent, and ungrateful, but why couldn’t Snape see this was the luckiest night of his life? Susan thought Halloween was cursed, but she was clearly wrong.

”You have no sense of self-preservation,” Snape said sharply. “You are entirely too willing to die for the sake of accolades.”

“Jokes on you, I dunno what that means.” Harry was impressed his voice sounded so light and uncaring despite his racing heart. He didn’t want to fight with Snape.

Why are they always fighting?

“You...” Snape’s eyes looked glazed for a moment while he stared at Harry before he blinked and they were blazing. “You do not even know the meaning of the word accolades AND YOU BELIEVE YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS TOURNAMENT WITH A DEATH TOLL? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry yelled back, quickly moving as far away from Snape as he could. “I’m sorry I’m stupid, but I’m not weak, Snape. I can win. You’ll see.”

“Harry, stop.” Snape closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and took a deep breath. “I apologize. I apologize. I did not mean to imply that you were either stupid or weak. Please do not run away from me right now.”

Harry hesitated by the dungeon entrance. He was pretty sure Snape wasn’t going to hit him, he wouldn’t do it when Harry asked him to so he probably wouldn’t do it now either. But he was also obviously pissed. You couldn’t always trust people not to lash out when they’re angry.

And it was better to be prepared just in case.

“My friends are waiting on me,” Harry said carefully.

“I am certain your victory party can wait for five more minutes,” Snape said sarcastically. “Harry, listen,” he took a couple of measured steps towards Harry and slowly reached out for Harry’s chin. Harry, very carefully, did not flinch when he grabbed it gently and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “This is dangerous,” Snape said firmly, but not unkindly. “It is not a game. I am worried for your safety, your health, and your life. You could become injured and I will be unable to heal you with the potions it would require. It is a poor excuse for yelling at you, because despite your manipulations with Lucius, I do believe you did not enter yourself. I simply do not wish to see you injured. I do not believe someone entered you as a favor. Do you understand?”

“Muggles get hurt all the time,” Harry said stubbornly, resisting the urge to smack Snape’s hand off him. “And they’re fine. I just have to heal like a Muggle, yeah?”

“Muggles are never injured in a magical tournament,” Snape disagreed.

“Then I won’t get hurt.”

“Do you truly have any idea what you’re up against?” Snape asked, dropping Harry’s chin and staring down at him. “You are fourteen.”

“You must think I’m a real idiot to remind me of my own age,” Harry sneered. “I know how old I am, thanks. But I’m in. I’m competing. And I’m going to win. You’ll see.”

“Go,” Snape said flatly. “We will discuss this more tomorrow.”

“‘Kay,” Harry shrugged. Snape could talk about it all he wanted, but on November the twenty-fourth Harry would be competing and that was that. “Night,” he called, jogging to hurry towards his friends who would definitely be waiting for him in the common room.

Snape and Fleur and everyone who thought he couldn’t do it were going to be surprised when he won the tournament.

They’d all have to see how strong he was then.

And Snape might be upset now, but when Harry won he was sure he’d be proud.

Outside the common room entrance Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten.

You’re in, he reminded himself before adopting a smug smirk and pushing open the entrance.

“HARRY! YOU DID IT!” Susan yelled, throwing herself in Harry’s arms the moment the painting swung open.

“How’d you do it?” Draco asked.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ron laughed.

“You’re an idiot,” Hermione said, her warm brown eyes wide and worried.

“You’re going to win,” Luna beamed at Harry. “You’ll get the trophy.”

Harry looked past his friends who were all talking on top of each other and saw that the entire Slytherin house was waiting in a highly decorated common room.

SLYTHERINS CHAMPION! was painted on a huge green banner behind a table filled with drinks and snacks.

Neville, Fred, and George came up to him, slower than Harry’s other friends had, but all of them smiling widely at him. Well, Neville shook his head in mock exasperation, but he was still smiling.

“How’d you pull it off?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, how’d you do it?!” a Slytherin standing along the wall yelled.

“Magic,” Harry smirked. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

Harry’s friends laughed but Susan whispered in his ear, “Later?”

“Later,” he confirmed.

Harry let everyone crowd around him for a few minutes while the Slytherin’s were shouting questions, laughing, and congratulating him.

“Cheater,” Fred murmured as he smiled down at Harry. “Shame on you Potter.”

“Hey, will you stay tonight too?” Harry asked, his excitement leading to the spur of the moment question.

“Thought it was for the gang only?” Fred asked, his brightened eyes already answering for him.

“Well Mione’s not in the gang and she’ll be here, and I don’t wanna repeat myself,” Harry shrugged.

“Alright then,” Fred smiled.

They all spent about an hour talking about the tournament. Surprisingly, a few Slytherin’s offered to loan Harry books on different spells he might need for it.

“When’s the first task?” a younger boy came up and hesitantly asked Harry. He was a first year, and looked a bit like Harry with black hair and green eyes.

“End of November,” Harry told him.

“Are you scared?”

“Nope,” Harry grinned.

“You’re brill,” the boy said, setting Susan and Luna off in to giggles as he took off to the snacks.

“Your slang is catching on!” Susan said between her laughter. “Oh my Gods.”

Luna was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her own laughter but her eyes were bright with amusement.

“You’re going to have all the first years swearing,” she giggled.

“Good,” Harry smirked. “Give Snape something to do when we’re gone, yeah?”

Harry celebrated with his housemates and friends until nearly midnight when Theo finally pulled him away from a group of eager fifth year girls that were telling Harry what they thought the tasks might be.

“C’mon,” Theo rolled his eyes. “I already kicked Vince and Greg out, Ron and Draco are making your weird floor beds now.”

“Ta,” Harry grinned. “Let’s go.”

“Are you finished with your fan club?” Blaise smirked when Harry entered the dorm room and saw his friends were all already waiting.

“For now,” Harry stuck his nose in the air pretentiously before laughing. “God, they’re all excited aren’t they?”

“It isn’t often that we get known for anything good,” Theo said.

“How on Earth is Harry sneaking in to the tournament going to improve Slytherin’s image?”
Hermione asked.

“Oh yeah,” Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and shrugged. “So I didn’t do it. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

His friends all stared at him in shocked silence before Ron snorted.

“Yeah you did, it’s all you’ve been talking about for months, isn’t it?”

“I just said I didn’t do it, didn’t I?” Harry said coolly, narrowing his eyes at where Ron was sitting on the floor beside Draco. “I’m not a liar.”

“Who did then?” Susan asked.

“And why can’t we tell anyone?” Fred asked.

“I dunno who did.” Harry leaned back a bit on his bed and propped himself up on his elbow. “Moody says it’s probably someone wanting to kill me. Snape said it had to be an adult. And I don’t want anyone else to know I didn’t do it, makes me look weak if someone put me in without me knowing, doesn’t it?”

“That’s- that’s not good Harry,” Draco said quietly. “Snape and Moody think that someone entered you to try and kill you?”

“Yup.”

Harry’s friends stared at him with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Except for Luna, she was just looking up at the ceiling and humming. Then, abruptly, Fred grinned and flopped down on the bed beside Harry.

“Think of how disappointed they’ll be when you win instead.”

“That’s what I said,” Harry smirked. “They’re gonna look so stupid.”

“Who do you think did it though?” Susan asked. “Because I’m getting sick of people thinking they can try to kill you to be honest.”

Theo said Timmy at the same time Harry said Karkaroff and Blaise said Moody.

The three boys stared at each other curiously.

“How the fuck would Timmy enter me in the tournament?” Harry asked Theo.

“Who knows,” he frowned. “But it’s a sight more likely than Moody.”

“Nope. I’ve got 10 Galleons on Moody,” Blaise said confidently from his cross legged position on his bed. “He knew you wanted to enter right? Maybe this is his way of trying to make an alliance.”

“If so then he’s in for sure,” Harry grinned. “But I’m thinking it was Karkaroff.”

“Why would the Durmstrang Headmaster enter you in the tournament?” Neville asked.

“Because he used to be a Death Eater,” Harry explained. “And he must know Timmy’s coming back. So maybe he thinks if he kills me off then Timmy won’t be so mad he sent those other Death Eaters to prison.”

“Damn,” Fred swore. “I bet you’re right.”

“He better not try anything,” Susan said shortly. “Because he’ll regret it.”

“Like I said, he’s going to look stupid when I win, won’t he?”

“What do you think the first task is going to be?” Ron asked eagerly. “They said you can only have your wand?”

“No knives?” Draco smirked.

“No swords either,” Harry shook his head sadly. “But it can’t be anything too hard if an idiot like Diggory is expected to survive it.”

“Cedric is not an idiot,” Hermione said hotly. “He’s a prefect isn’t he?”

“So was Percy,” Fred laughed. “And he’s a right git.”

“I agree with Weasley,” Draco scowled. “Diggory’s an imbecile.”

“You’re just mad you lost one game that he won,” Hermione said.

“And you just think he’s cute,” Theo drawled with a sly smirk.

“I do not! I happen to think he’s very kind, polite, and smart!” Hermione sniffed.

Harry listened happily as his friends debated over the qualities of the other champions and pictured himself holding the Triwizard Trophy up high in front of the whole school.

Alive.

Free.

Strong.

“Whatcha thinking about Darlin?” Fred asked quietly.

“Winning the tournament,” Harry said honestly. “Then you’ll have 500 Galleons to put towards your shop, right? Plus,” Harry lowered his voice. “I’m going to get your money back from Bagman next time I see him.”

Fred rolled his eyes but gave him a lopsided grin.

“I was teasing you about splitting your winnings, you keep it.”

“But you said you wouldn’t enter if I split it with you, and I will,” Harry insisted. “Otherwise it’s not fair.”

“Harry, I was joking. I know that’s rare for me, but it really was a joke. You should keep your gold and buy a bunch of swords or something wicked.”

“We’ll see,” Harry snorted. “But next time I see Bagman I’m going to get your money.”

“My hero,” Fred sighed dramatically with a hand on his heart. “I’ll be sure to give you a sweet discount once our shop opens.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned.

When Harry laid on the floor that night, his head in the crook of Fred’s arm and Lue’s head on his chest, he let his mind drift back to his previous fantasy about winning the tournament.

Harry would stand up on a platform and raise the trophy high. His friends would all be cheering for him. Snape would be giving him that proud look he gives when he’s pleased with Harry. Black, the Contessa, Amelia, and the Malfoy’s would all be there waving at him. Harry would look at Dumbledore and feel a smug sense of satisfaction as he has to announce that Harry won.

It would be the best day of his life.

The next morning at breakfast Harry pulled one of his pills out from the bottle and hesitated before he took it.

‘I am worried for your safety, your health, and your life. You could become injured and I will be unable to heal you with the potions it would require.’

“What’s up Harry?” Susan asked as Harry stared down at the pill in his hand.

“Nothing,” Harry said hastily, pocketing the pill. “Just thinking about the first task.”

“Hermione read about the previous tasks and her and Theo have some theories on what’s coming up,” Blaise said.

Harry turned toward Hermione and Theo and grinned at them.

“Let’s hear it then,” he said, the pill in his pocket already forgotten about.

Chapter Text

Lupin,
Despite your current level of incompetence, I would like for you to meet with Harry during the next Hogsmeade visit.
Do try and refrain from using words such as ‘feelings’ as Potter will either curse at you or simply curse you for insinuating that he has such things.
And I will curse you for wasting my time.
-SS

***

As was tradition apparently, Severus had spent the remainder of his Halloween night arguing with Albus and Minerva in Albus’ office.

Though none of them believed Potter entered himself, it was an undeniable lapse in security that he was entered at all.

They also had no viable theories on who, or how, Potter was entered.

Which, they all agreed, was deeply troubling.

’Keep an eye on Igor, would you?’ Albus murmured before Severus left his office. ’And let me know if your mark darkens even more. These are troubling times my boy.’

Troubling times indeed.

And Severus’ ward was wrapped up right in the center of it, as usual.

Immediately after leaving Albus’ office, Severus sent a fury filled letter to Lucius. He had depended on his friend to yank Potter from the tournament, instead he pulled some nonsense about heirships out of thin air quicker than any conjuring and cemented Potter’s place.

If Potter was injured, friendship be damned, Severus would cut Lucius’ throat open himself.

***

Severus,
Is everything alright? Sirius says he hasn’t heard from Harry recently and your last letter was concerning.
I would be delighted to meet with Harry. Though, like you said, I do not believe my skills are up to par with a professional yet.
I’ll have Sirius invite Harry to our place during the next Hogsmeade weekend, shall I? Perhaps if he had permission from his Head of House he could stay the night Saturday and I would ensure he came back Sunday by lunch?
-Remus.

***

Harry,
I apologize again for our spat last night. Please accept my offer for dueling lessons and defensive courses for you and your merry band of misfits as my formal apology.
I have even checked all of your schedules and believe you can all attend on Thursdays at 4 o’clock. Perhaps we can make this a biweekly occurrence? I believe there are many things I can teach you all.
Kindly try and refrain from dying or entering any other tournaments with a prior death toll between now and then.
Even you can survive three days.
Accolades: an award or privilege granted as a special honor or as an acknowledgment of merit.
To be used in a sentence: ‘I believe you would throw yourself in to a pit of fire for the accolades of others acknowledging your self-prescribed greatness.’
Brat.
-Snape

***

The morning after Halloween Severus groaned to see how the Slytherin table applauded his ward with a standing ovation when he arrived at breakfast.

And Potter stood there, his chest puffed out, preening, as smug and arrogant as his own Merlin damned father had been after a quidditch match.

Severus could scarcely decide which was the more amusing figure in the days following the announcement- Diggory or Potter.

Potter’s placement in the tournament had Hogwarts divided. The Slytherin’s were ecstatic that one of their own was in the tournament. Many of the Ravenclaws seemed to support Potter as well. Including Roger Davies, a seventh year student who plays on the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, who publicly congratulated Potter during lunch. Davies’ congratulations led to many other Ravenclaw students openly supporting Potter. Yet, many of the other students, specifically the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindor’s, felt as if Potter was somehow stealing glory from Mister Diggory.

Both champions had a satisfied gleam in their eyes. Both had large groups of friends who were encouraging the other students to support them. The boys’ houses each supported their champions and quidditch team captains. Severus took great pleasure in docking points from the other houses when he saw clusters of students holding up the corridors as they pestered either child for an autograph.

An actual Merlin damned autograph.

He was relieved that his Slytherin’s held too much pride to do such a thing. Though, he was also exasperated to see little Trent Bailey, a Slytherin first year, walking around the castle wearing a pair of glasses identical to Potter’s, despite the younger child having no prior need for corrective eyewear.

The Hufflepuff’s had taken up the torch for their champion immediately and were eagerly discussing Diggory’s upcoming successes, while the Slytherin’s supported Potter to the point where Severus hardly saw the child at a meal without a student in green gifting him a book or drawing him in to a conversation. The students who clustered around Potter with excited auras surrounding them were the same ones who went out of their way to scowl at the more age-appropriate Diggory for daring to oppose their revered housemate.

Diggory had a classic type of golden appeal that the students flocked to. He was in the top ten percent of his year, prefect, and was a disturbingly cheerful boy. He appeared to take the entire contest in stride and smiled genuinely when his fellow Hufflepuffs, and the Gryffindors who would never support a Slytherin champion, wished him luck.

Potter on the other hand, was as different from Diggory as literal night to day. While Diggory accepted his well wishers with easy grace, Potter squinted at his suspiciously as if to determine their motives in speaking with him. Diggory spoke to every person as if they were his friend, Potter sneered at those who he was not already friends with. Diggory shook hands and accepted hugs. Potter sneered at proffered hands and hissed when arms were outstretched towards him.

If Diggory was a warm summer afternoon that brought smiles of cheer to others- Potter was a cold fall tornado which left chaos in his wake.

Yet Severus had never heard of a person who did not crane their neck in an effort to take in the awe that was the aftermath of a tornado.

Severus heard angry mutterings in the corridors that Potter was a cheat, a liar, and does not deserve to be in the contest. Potter subsequently silenced these students with polite smiles and silent jinxes.

Severus lightly scolded Potter in public, as he was expected to do. Yet he congratulated the child in private, Potter had came a long way from the twelve year old who was led to depression over the harassment of his classmates.

When badges began appearing on yellow and red robes that said to support Cedric Diggory ‘the REAL Hogwarts Champion’, Severus had to supply burn creams to Madame Pomfrey as the buttons were being burnt off the students’ robes.

Severus awarded Miss Bones a silent 5 points when he was required an extra strength burn cream for the idiotic child who thought wearing a button saying ‘POTTER SUCKS’ in front of her was a good idea.

Severus was quite sure that this would be the longest year of his life.

***

Lupin,
I will allow Harry to tell you his recent news. Though I am surprised it has yet to make the news.
He is alive. Although I may kill him myself am not currently thrilled with his decision making abilities.
If Harry agrees, I give permission for him to stay at your home in Hogsmeade Saturday night. Kindly inform Black that it will be his head on a platter if my ward goes missing or is injured in any way.
-SS

***

Snape,
K, we’ll be there Thursday at four.
Thanks I guess.
-HJP

***

Severus was midway through his fourth year potions class on Wednesday afternoon when a knock on the classroom door interrupted it.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Yes?” Severus sighed. A third year Gryffindor student, Colin Creevey, interrupting his class is hardly an omen of anything good.

“I’m supposed to take H-Harry P-Potter upstairs,” he stammered.

“For what purpose?” Severus asked as Potter perked up in the back of the room with cautious interest.

“It’s... it’s a champions thing,” the boy said, his eyes continuously flicking towards Potter with an awe-filled look mixed with a hint of fear. “I think the news is here, for photos, you know?”

“5 points from Gryffindor,” Severus snapped when Finnigan scoffed loudly and glared at Potter.

For a child whose worst fear is Potter himself, the imbecile seemed to have no understanding of not inciting that fear.

“May I go sir?” Potter asked politely, his green eyes eager and his back straight.

“Class dismissed,” Severus said, making a quick decision. “I would like thirty-six inches on the properties of lacewing flies when mixed with salamander blood by Friday morning.”

“Oh, I only need Harry,” Creevey said, surprised by Severus’ abrupt dismissal.

“I am aware,” Severus sneered. “I will accompany him. You will return to your class.”

“Yes sir. They’re upstairs, the empty classroom on the third floor,” Creevey mumbled, shooting a disappointed look towards Potter who was obediently waiting in his seat as his classmates fled before Severus could change his mind.

“Why are you going?” Potter asked as soon as the last student left and he got to his own feet.

“Because the mere mention of the media makes my skin crawl,” Severus said truthfully. “And it would be remiss of me as your guardian to allow you to be alone with them.”

“‘Kay,” Potter shrugged easily and followed along behind Severus as they made their way to the empty classroom on the third floor.

“I bet it’s Rita,” Potter said thoughtfully. “She said she got a promotion when she wrote about me in my second year, remember that?”

“Vividly,” Severus said. How does one forget a series of articles that leads to them accepting the guardianship of a pre-teen?

“So yeah... I bet it’s her.”

Potter’s quiet thoughts were proven true when they entered the classroom and Severus’ ward was immediately greeted by the loud, blonde, irksome Miss Skeeter.

“Harry! Darling! It’s been so long!” she cried, crossing the room quickly towards Potter. “How are you?”

“Brill,” Potter said brightly. “I saw your article about the World Cup, I think you painted Snape here in just the right light.”

“You read that?” Skeeter beamed while Severus scowled at the reminder. “Oh Harry, you’re too sweet. Come in, come in.”

Severus and Potter stepped further in the room and saw that the other three students, Olympe, Igor, the wand maker Ollivander, and a man that could only be the Daily Prophet’s photographer were already present.

“We’re just waiting on Albus now,” Skeeter was explaining to Potter. “But while we wait, would you mind terribly if I got a few quotes for the article? The youngest champion is sure to add some color to the news.” She winked at Potter, who unsurprisingly looked all too happy to comply.

“Sure,” he said. “D’you already have your questions?”

“I do!” Skeeter dug in her bag and pulled out a parchment and the sickly green colored quill that could only be a Quick-Quotes. “Why don’t we step out in the corridor for some privacy, hmm?”

“I’ll join you,” Severus said curtly as Skeeter led Potter to the corridor, none of the three paying any heed to the remaining students.

“Wonderful!” Skeeter smiled broadly, showcasing her two incredibly gaudy golden teeth. “I’d love to get a quote from you as well Severus.”

That was not what he had meant.

“So Harry,” Skeeter grinned at Potter and lowered her voice once the classroom door closed behind them. “Why’d you enter?”

“Thought it would be fun,” Potter grinned. “But I don’t want you to say that. I want you to say that nobody knows for sure how I got entered and,” Potter sighed dramatically, “isn’t it a shame Dumbledore’s magic messed up like that?”

Severus hid a smile as Skeeter lit up like a first year on Christmas.

“Ooh Harry, I just adore you,” she cooed. “And so will the rest of the world once they read this. Alright next question, are you scared?”

“Off the record? Nope. On the record? I’m a little nervous, but I think that with my friends’ support that I can make it through it.”

Skeeter laughed and gave Potter a fond look. Severus was begrudgingly impressed that Potter seemed to understand precisely the best way to play the media to his advantage. Or, more accurately, the Contessa had taught Potter the best ways to manipulate the press and the child actually absorbed the information.

Pity he seems to not have the same skill when it comes to retaining information regarding his sense of self-preservation.

“Now, Harry, champions have died in the past, does that worry you?” Skeeter asked.

“Nope, that’s my official answer,” Potter winked.

Fucking winked.

The Contessa, in her infinite wisdom, had done mankind a disservice when she instructed Potter to build allies through ‘charming others’. Potter appeared every bit the roguish and mysterious teenager that he was hoping to portray in that moment. And he had Skeeter positively simpering.

“Do you feel as if you’re being supported by your fellow classmates?” Skeeter asked him.

“Some of them,” Potter said. “But half the kids think I entered myself and they’re being prats, aren’t they?”

“You’re well used to hardship though, aren’t you Harry? With your muggle relatives and being unfairly expelled your second year?”

“You won’t print that,” Potter said, his tone a cold contrast to its previously teasing warmth. “Not a chance.”

Severus would have stepped in to ensure that his underaged ward would have his privacy respected in the media, but he was amused to see Skeeter hastily crossing her question off the parchment.

“Of course not, of course not. Why would I? Silly question...” she still appeared to be simpering after Potter, but had an appropriate level of fear in her eyes as well now.

“Um... Let’s see... Okay! What do you think your parents would say about you being in the tournament if they were here?” Skeeter asked, wiping the amusement right off Severus’ face.

“Er...” Potter glanced up at Severus and chewed his lip for a moment until Severus took pity on the child.

“His father would undoubtedly be excited to see his son compete, while his mother would be worrying herself sick,” he said calmly with a reassuring hand on Potter’s shoulder. “They would be furious at his being placed in the competition that he is too young to be a part of, but would attend each task to cheer him along eagerly.”

Potter gave him a shy and thankful smile while Skeeter sighed theatrically.

“Beautiful,” she said. “And you Severus? How are you feeling about Harry competing? Scared, angry, hopeful?”

“I am concerned for the safety of my ward and impressed with his determination in the face of adversity,” Severus said smoothly.

“Just wonderful,” Skeeter said. Severus took the opportunity to glance at the parchment the Quick-Quotes Quill was scrawling on and was pleased to see that their direct ‘on record’ quotes were being written.

“Aah, Rita!” Albus turned a corner and strode down the corridor towards them. “Welcome, I’m delighted to see you.”

“Dumbledore!” cried Skeeter, hastily snatching her belongings and shoving them in to an appalling bag made of crocodile skin. “How are you?” she said, holding out one of her hands to Dumbledore. “I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?”

“Enchantingly nasty,” said Albus, his eyes twinkling as he cordially shook Skeeter’s hand. “I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.”

Skeeter didn’t look remotely abashed. Potter actually blatantly smiled up at her as if she were his personal hero in this moment.

“I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street —”

“I look forward to hearing the reasoning behind the rudeness,” Albus smiled genially as he interrupted her. “Though I believe we should step inside and allow the Weighing of the Wands to begin?”

Severus inclined his head gratefully to Albus and followed behind a now whispering Skeeter and Potter. Severus stood beside Potter, who was ushered in to a seat beside Mister Diggory.

There was a velvet-covered table in the front of the room where four of the five judges were now sitting — Igor, Olympe, Bagman, and Crouch. Skeeter settled herself down in a corner and slipped the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Albus, taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

“Oh,” Potter sounded surprised and turned to glanced quickly at Severus. “Were we supposed to bring our wands? I didn’t know.”

Severus sighed. Potter would be the only damned student in the castle who did not carry a wand. An oddity not unnoticed by the others.

“Didn’t you just come from class?” Diggory asked curiously.

“Yeaaah,” Potter said slowly. “But I didn’t have my wand on me, did I? Should I get it, I guess?”

“If you wouldn’t mind Harry,” Bagman said cheerily. “It’s your official weapon in the tasks after all.”

“‘Kay.” Potter grinned at Skeeter and Severus had a sudden sense of foreboding. Potter was about to show off, Severus was sure of it.

And sure enough...

“I want my wand,” Potter said airily, one hand held out.

Not a soul in the room made a noise, aside from an insulting sound of disbelief from Igor, until Potters wand flew beneath the door and smacked in to his palm.

“Amazing!” Skeeter cried happily. “Did you get that?” she elbowed the camera man sharply, who grunted in an affirmative type of noise.

“Zat eez incroyable,” Delacour said with a sweet smile at Potter that had Ludo Bagman blinking rapidly at her from his seat at the judges table.

“Merci beaucoup,” Potter winked.

“You speak French?” Delacour cried, delighted.

“No,” Potter admitted with a rueful smile. “I mean, a bit, but just a few words... Oh! And, tu es brillant.” Delacour broke into a juvenile fit of giggles that had Severus rolling his eyes.

Only Potter would begin ‘charming foreign allies’ by targeting the quarter Veela whose father runs half of the French Magical Embassy.

“Can we begin?” Igor said tersely with a nasty look at Potter that had Severus gripping his wand tightly.

“Yes, yes, let’s,” Bagman said with an overtly excited look at Potter and Delacour that had Severus gripping his wand just as tightly.

Hatred, awe, and fear- the three horsemen of Potter’s fan club, Severus mentally scoffed as the ceremony began.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” said Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Miss Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

“Hmm...” he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

Severus had never been a fan of Ollivander. The man’s theatrics could put even Draco to shame.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me...”

“An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” the girl said. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

Potter did nothing as obvious as jump, but Severus saw him startle all the same.

Potter had to be the only damned student in the castle previously unaware of Delacour’s heritage.

“I never use Veela hair myself, I find it makes temperamental wands... though if it suits you...” Ollivander said as he swished the girls wand through the air.

Severus scoffed lightly as Ollivander produced a mixed bouquet of flowers and presented them to Delacour along with her wand.

“Mister Diggory,” he said.

“It’s rude to call your wand temperamental,” Potter whispered to Delacour, ignoring the proceedings as Diggory’s wand was examined.

“‘E will see when I compete, yes?” Delacour smiled at Potter. “‘Ere, for you ‘Arry.” She tucked one of the yellow conjured flowers in Potter’s hair.

“Merci beaucoup, but I bet they look better in your hair,” Potter said quietly as Ollivander sent smoke rings from Diggory’s wand.

Severus wondered if Potter was truly this naive and oblivious, or if he was a tremendous flirt.

Naive and oblivious, he decided as Potter appeared to be impervious to the Veela’s natural charms.

“Ze yellows bring out your eyes,” Delacour whispered. Potter snagged one of the red roses and tucked it behind her ear.

“Now we match,” he said with another one of the winks that he must believe to be charming.

Which, apparently they were. Because Delacour giggled again and gave Potter a bright smile that now had Bagman and the camera man both ogling her in a way that Severus found both distasteful and offensive to do to a child.

Actually, he would have found it to be distasteful and offensive if Delacour were a grown woman. That she was a mere teenager still in school just made it all the more so.

The two students went quiet as Krum was called forward and presented his wand to Ollivander.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I... however...”

Severus actually rolled his eyes at the hubris of the man.

“Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” Ollivander shot at Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!”

The wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good,” Ollivander said, handing Krum back his wand. “Which leaves... Mr. Potter.”

Potter stood up and strutted to Ollivander confidently.

“Sorry it’s not polished, just sits in my trunk most of the time,” Potter said with a cocky lilt to his tone.

“I bet that red knife of yours doesn’t, does it?” Ollivander hummed as he accepted Potter’s proffered wand.

Severus had never asked Potter before about his first interaction with Ollivander, though he was now undeniably curious as to how the queer old wand maker came to be aquatinted with Potter’s pocket knife.

Potter didn’t say anything, he just shrugged as Ollivander began inspecting his wand.

Ollivander spent much longer examining Potter’s wand than anyone else’s, though his previous commentary was markedly absent. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Potter, announcing that it was still in perfect condition. Which was unsurprising considering it’s lack of use.

“Thank you all,” said Albus, standing up at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —”

“Ooh, don’t forget we need photos!” Skeeter leapt to her feet. “The champions will need photos for the article tomorrow!”

Severus had never witnessed such a debacle as what should have been a simple task.

The camera man first got individual photos of each student. Then a photo of the judges. Then the group photo seemed to take eons as there was no placement to suit all parties. Skeeter wanted Potter front and center, the camera man continued to maneuver Delacour up front, Krum skulked in the back and had to be literally drug in to view of the camera.

It was madness.

And once they were satisfied with a group photo, not only had dinner surely already began, but Skeeter then insisted on a photo of Severus and Potter together. He would have refused, but Potter had looked suddenly bashful when she suggested it, so Severus gave in and stood behind Potter with a light hand on his shoulder while the camera man flashed the camera in their faces a few times.

“Insipid and insufferable,” Severus grumbled on his way to dinner alongside Potter. “Must you be quite so well-known?”

“The pains of fame,” Potter quipped, appearing rather pleased with himself and still sporting a bright yellow orchid in his hair. “At least nobody stares at your forehead.”

“Your scar is not even visible,” Severus said.

“Wanna know what I always think people do when they see me?” Potter grinned and his eyes were sparkling mischievously. “I bet they go home and tell their families: ‘Guess who I saw? Harry Potter! And guess what? I saw his bangs!’”

Severus chuckled lightly at that. It was rather amusing when Potter stated it in that light.

“See you tomorrow at four?” Potter asked hesitantly when they approached the Great Hall.

“I will be there,” Severus assured him, pleased that Potter seemed to easily accept his apologies when he gives them.

If his penance for screaming in Potter’s face, an appalling lapse in behavior, was to spend two hours working on defensive magic for a group of children who would undoubtedly benefit from it then who was he to complain?

After all, Severus had survived much worse than a few hours of tutoring with Potter’s gang before.

***
BOY WHO LIVED- HOGWARTS CHAMPION!
As many of you know, this year marks the first revival of the Triwizard Tournament since 1792. Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, made the decision to bring back this tournament in ‘an effort to foster foreign connections with other schools’. Though it was an unpopular decision, like many of Albus Dumbledore’s decisions, the champions for the tournament were chosen on Halloween night.
And dear readers, whose name was pulled from the goblet? None other than our very own Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter.
I had the opportunity to speak with my friend Harry during the Weighing of the Wand Ceremony to see how this amazing feat came to be considering that champions were limited only to those over the age of 17.
Harry and his guardian and Head of House, Severus Snape, both state that nobody knows how Harry’s name came to be submitted in the Goblet. Albus Dumbledore claims to have set a ward preventing any underage students from competing, yet the question now is how was someone able to enter Harry’s name? Is this a revenge plot of some kind? A prank? Those questions are not yet answered, but Dumbledore’s lack of security in his school has many parents concerned. Despite this horrifying mistake on Dumbledore’s part, Harry is determined to participate in the tournament to the best of his underaged abilities.
“His parents would be be furious at his being placed in the competition that he is too young to be a part of, but would attend each task to cheer him along eagerly,” calmly stated the striking Severus Snape, classmate of James and Lily Potter, guardian to Harry Potter himself, and well known recent hero of the Quidditch World Cup. I asked Severus how he felt about Harry’s placement in a tournament that Albus Dumbledore was meant to prevent young students from competing in and, although there was a worried light in his serene dark eyes, he smiled down at his legal ward of two years proudly. “I too am concerned for the safety of [Harry] and impressed with his determination in the face of adversity.”
And determined Harry is.
“A lot of students are being [rude] to me and I’m a little nervous, but I think that with my friends’ support that I can make it through it,” Harry told me with a endearingly shy smile and sparkling green eyes. “I’m not scared. I know people have died before but I don’t think I will.”
And why would he? During the ceremony I witnessed Harry summoning his wand from the dungeons of the castle clear to the third floor. An accomplishment that no other Witch or Wizard has hardly achieved.
Despite our worry for our beloved boy hero, we wish him luck and eagerly await his upcoming tasks, the first of which will be November the twenty-fourth where yours truly will be on scene to capture the magic for my readers.
The other champions are Flower Delacott of Beauxbatons Academy, Victor Crum of Durmstrang, and Cedar Diggery.
Full account of Harry Potter’s defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on page two.
Harry Potter’s previously unjust Hogwarts expulsion on page six.
Recap of Harry Potter’s guardianship with Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape on page seven.

Severus sighed after reading the article on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Although Skeeter had indeed written their quotes verbatim, none of the champions, save Potter, would be pleased with the report. If Potter was not already openly despised by the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindor’s, he would be now.

There was also a full size photo of Potter accompanying the front page article. Then a photo on a loop of Potter summoning his wand on the second page. And on the seventh page- a photo of Severus himself standing behind Potter.

Severus carefully clipped the photo out of the newspaper and saved it before throwing the rest of the newspaper in the trash bin where it belongs.

***

“Sir, we’re here!” Potter bounced in to Severus’ classroom at precisely 4 o’clock Thursday afternoon, trailed by his usual crowd of friends.

“Wait please-“ Severus said as Potter went to sit at one of the desks. He instead waved his wand and cleared the desks to the sides of the room. “Everyone who is not Harry, sit alongside the walls and watch closely please.”

Potter gave him a curious look while his friends happily moved to the sides of the room.

“We will be working on offensive and defensive magic, alongside dueling, every other week. I believe that as you all refuse to stay out of danger-“ Severus laid his eyes on each individual unrepentantly grinning student, “-it would be prudent for you to be able to defend yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with Harry being in a death trap of a tournament?” Ronald Weasley grinned.

“That too,” Severus allowed. “Now, as I have been led to believe that Potter is the most accomplished dueler of your group, I will demonstrate a dramatically underutilized spell: Stupefy.” Severus turned to a smug looking Potter, “Are you willing to demonstrate? I will of course be stunning you.”

“Am I allowed to defend myself?” Potter asked.

“You may.”

“Brill then, let’s do it.”

Severus hid a smirk and watched as Potter took his place across from him.

“Watch closely now,” Severus called to the other students. “Go.”

Potter immediately sent a silent spell the color of milk to Severus, who dispelled it while sending a few test stunners towards Potter. He watched carefully in the direction Potter tends to dodge towards and smiled to himself. Potter was fast, creative, fluid in both his attacks and his defenses, but he turned to the left each time a spell was aimed at his chest.

After a few more minutes of ensuring his stunner would land on target, Severus sent a stunner towards Potter’s torso and immediately followed it with another aimed just to the left of his body and-

“Oh he’s going to be pissed,” Blaise Zabini laughed happily as Potter was stunned and hit the ground. “How’d you do that?”

“Allow me to revive Harry and I will explain,” Severus said.

“Rennervate.”

“What the fuck?” Potter sat up and blushed hotly as he glanced quickly at his watching friends. “How’d you do that?”

Severus offered him a hand to help him to his feet, which was ignored.

“Can anyone tell me what enabled me to stun my opponent?” he asked the watching students.

“Harry was distracted?” Neville Longbottom asked hesitantly.

“I bloody well was not,” Potter snarled.

“No, anyone else?”

When nobody anything, Severus tapped beside his own eyes.

“The best tool to be used in a duel with your opponent is your eyesight-“

“Which is why Harry lost,” Theodore muttered to Draco.

“-I simply watched Harry to determine which direction he would move if I aimed for his chest and he eventually stepped right in to my spell,” Severus said. “This is why it is important to watch your opponent carefully, to strategize during the duel, but also why it is important to vary your movements so they do not become predictable. Now, let’s pair up. We are stunning only, immediately followed by a revival, understood?”

At the students’ confirmations, Severus paired Theodore with Granger, Draco with Ronald Weasley, Lovegood with Blaise, Bones and Frederick Weasley (as he would be the death Severus would be least likely to mourn), and then eyed Longbottom speculatively.

“Want me with Nev?” Potter asked brightly, Longbottom suddenly paled when Potter smiled.

“No,” Severus said slowly. “I would like Mister Longbottom to take turns with Lovegood and Blaise. You are with me Potter. We practice until you stun me.”

Potter was the one who would need the practice, it was a mere coincidence that he happened to be a package deal with his army of students. Though if they were determined to take a place by Potter’s side in any oncoming conflicts, Severus would ensure their skills supported their positions.

The students practiced for an hour, during which time Severus had stunned Potter twice and after the second stunner Severus nearly ended their lesson.

”Are you ill?” he asked Potter. The child looked more flushed than was expected and was breathing heavily.

“Nope,” Potter all but snarled. “I’m fine. Let’s go again, yeah?”

Severus resumed their duel, but kept a close eye on him. Potter appeared peaky. It had escaped his notice before now, but he thought perhaps Potter had looked mildly ill since dinner last night.

Perhaps the tournament is weighing on his nerves more than expected.

It would be terribly in character for Potter to put on a cocky front while hiding his anxiety.

Severus pushed his concerns to the side for now, intent on training Potter until he absorbed the lesson Severus was hoping to impart. Which he did nearly twenty minutes later when he finally hit Severus with a Stupefy.

“Excellent,” he said when Potter smugly revived him. “How were you able to guess which direction I would move?”

“I couldn’t,” Potter admitted with a sly grin. “That’s why I sent seven in all different directions, isn’t it?”

“While that may be effective, it is foolish,” Severus said as he got to his feet and smoothed out his robes. “You will run the risk of stunning your allies if they are in the immediate area... Which leaves them open to attack Harry,” he added with a sigh when Potter shrugged.

“Oh. Right... go again?”

Severus had intended on assisting the struggling students, but dueling Potter was a rare pleasure. Potter truly was a force in a duel, and Severus was pleased to see it. Potter had many enemies, and many more likely to come, and Severus would need to do all he could to ensure his wards survival in any given situation.

“Again,” Severus agreed.

***

Lupin,
Harry informed me that he would only accept Black’s request for him to stay the night at your home if he could bring along a friend.
I told him this was acceptable to me as long as his friend receives permission from their parent or guardian.
Enjoy.
-SS

Chapter Text

“Sirius Orion Black move it! We were supposed to meet Harry five minutes ago!” Remus yelled across their new cottage towards the bedroom Sirius was wasting time in. “I will leave you behind!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sirius said, coming out of the bedroom with a large gift wrapped package in his arms. “I had to make sure Harry’s gift was wrapped, didn’t I?”

“No,” Remus sighed fondly. “You really didn’t.”

Especially since the last thing Harry needed was a ‘thanks for the mischief’ gift Sirius got him in exchange for the tears of laughter he’d shed over the bottled memory Minerva sent them.

“Course I did,” Sirius snagged his jacket on and stuck his hands in the leather pockets. “Every junior Marauder needs one. Ready Rem?”

Remus shook his head but accepted Sirius’ outstretched hand.

“Let’s go counsel my godson,” Sirius laughed.

Remus still had his reservations about trying to counsel Harry after a crash course in muggle psychology over the summer, but he could easily admit that he understood why Severus would want him to begin trying at least. If nothing else, Remus hoped he could be a listening ear to any of Harry’s current fears or concerns.

Not that he thought Harry would admit to being afraid or concerned, but maybe Remus could find a way to wheedle some information from the reticent teen.

They quickly walked hand in hand towards the Three Broomsticks, where they had planned on meeting Harry and his friend. The two of them were about to enter the building when Remus held his open hand up to stop Sirius.

“Hey, hold on...” he took a deep breath to try and identify the smell that had stopped him and grimaced when he realized what it was.

“Someone’s hurt,” he whispered. “I can smell blood.”

Sirius dropped Remus’ hand and pulled his wand out immediately. He followed behind Remus as he led him around the corner of the pub, towards the back of the alley where the smell was coming from.

As they approached Remus could make out three figures and snippets of the conversation.

“...I’m not fuckin’ playing with you, am I?”

“... I don’t have it! I swear!”

“... I would get it quick then.”

“Harry?”

Harry, because it was Harry, spun around and blinked at Remus even as he held a knife to a man’s throat.

... a knife to a man’s throat?!

This actually wasn’t that shocking given all he’d learned and seen of Harry before now.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sirius cried. “Harry are you okay?”

Sirius apparently missed the fact that Harry was holding a knife to a man’s throat. A bleeding man.

... Merlin.

Ludo Bagman.

A ministry worker.

“Just talking to my friend,” Harry said brightly. His companion turned around and Remus was now the one blinking at Susan Bones.

Sadly, it also wasn’t that shocking that she was holding another knife to Ludo Bagman’s stomach. Susan Bones was a vicious thing that hid behind saccharine tones and courteous manners. She was also fiercely loyal to Harry and Remus personally thought the red-headed girl would easily kill someone if she thought it would protect Harry.

Which would be a fine sentiment to have in a friend if it weren’t so unsettling.

“It’s fine,” Ludo gasped. “We’re just talking.”

“Harry, Merlin, put the knife down,” Sirius groaned, just now putting the picture together apparently. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Harry said casually, the silver blade still lodged firmly against Ludo’s neck. “Bagman owes my friend some money and we were talking about a repayment plan, yeah?” he glared at Ludo.

“Yeah... yes... yes, I’m going to get the money,” Luda said, his eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Susan.

“Put him down!” Remus said sharply. “Ludo are you alright?”

“Fine,” Ludo lied, he was bleeding quite heavily from a gash on his cheek. “Just an accident. Nothing to worry about.”

“Not an accident, a misunderstanding,” Susan corrected him sweetly.

“Well I think he understands now.” Harry retracted his knife back to a holster Remus could see peeking out beneath his robes on his forearm and raised his brows at Ludo. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Bagman scrambled to his feet and quickly stepped away from the children. “I’ll have the first payment by the twenty-fourth.”

“See that you do,” Susan said in honestly what was the politest tone Remus had ever heard. “Because we know where you work.”

“And where you live,” Harry added in an absolutely not polite tone.

“Shut up,” Sirius hissed. “Merlin, Harry.”

Harry and Susan stepped to the side so Ludo could get between them- and Ludo ran from the alley as quickly as he could, a thin but steady trickle of blood trailing behind him.

“Why would you do that?!” Sirius asked them. “You could be arrested! He works for the ministry!”

“Pft, he’s not going to arrest us,” Harry scoffed. “Worst case scenario is he calls the Aurors, we deny it, he says it was us, then we tell them he owes us 1346 Galleons because he made a bet with minors and he loses his job. I’ll walk away from it because I’ve got a good lawyer and I’m famous, Sue will walk away because I’ll loan her my lawyer and her aunt runs the law enforcement.”

“1800 Galleons,” Susan grinned at Harry as she handed him the red handled pocket knife she had. “Interest, remember? Plus the Minister likes us.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry laughed, which set Susan off in to a peal of giggles. Remus and Sirius just gaped at them, both slack jawed and shaken.

“Is this the wizard mafia?!” Remus eventually cried, unable to hold his exasperation in any longer.

“What’s a mafia?” Sirius asked him just as Harry beamed and nodded his head.

“They’re like a gang only they do more money stuff than crimes,” Harry said eagerly, which Remus wasn’t actually sure if it was true or not. He’d only seen the one muggle film about the mafia back in the 80’s with Lily and Peter, but the mafia had seemed like criminals to him, and certainly not something Harry should be aspiring for.

“Let’s just get inside before your godson stabs anyone else or gets arrested,” Remus groaned. “Susan, will you be joining us?”

“Of course,” Susan smiled at them but Remus didn’t think he was imagining the threat in her eyes.

Of course.

Remus and Sirius sent each other a bewildered look as they followed behind the two children to the Three Broomsticks entrance.

Children who just cut open a man’s face over a bit of gold.

Well... 1800, or even 1346, Galleons was more than ‘a bit’ of gold. But probably still less than what Lucius Malfoy would charge to defend Harry and Susan in two criminal assault cases.

Harry led them through the pub, strutting confidently to a booth in a back corner. He stood to the side and let Susan slide in first before he took a seat on the end and his eyes flicked around the pub a few times. Remus and Sirius quickly sat across from them and they both faltered at starting a conversation.

What do you say to the teenagers who you just found assaulting a man with a knife?

“How’s life?” Sirius apparently found something to say, which wasn’t a big shock since Sirius hates silence even more now that he’s free from Azkaban than he did before. It did seem a bit casual considering the predicament they just found the duo in, but apparently Sirius was planning on ignoring their assault with deadly weapons in favor of faking normalcy.

“Fine,” Harry shrugged.

“Here Pup, this is for you.” Sirius slid his package across the table to Harry and smiled at him, his excitement at his ridiculous purchase for his godson returning.

Remus was still puzzling over the assault.

“Why?” Harry looked bemused by the oddly wrapped package.

“It’s a thank you gift,” Sirius explained, his grey eyes were sparkling with the joy that only Harry can bring to him. “Minnie sent me a memory of you trying to enter your name in the goblet and I haven’t laughed that hard in years. Whose idea was the lasso?”

“Theo’s,” Susan smiled genuinely at Sirius. “Hermione made him watch a muggle film about cowboys and he was dying to try it out.”

“Wicked,” Sirius chuckled while Harry cautiously unwrapped the package.

“What the fuck,” Harry let out a bark of laughter when he held up a black leather jacket that was the perfect replica of Sirius’ own. “What’s this then?”

“It’s a time honored tradition,” Sirius said with mock solemnity. “Your attack on the Goblet has proven you to be a true marauder and as such you needed the official jacket.”

Harry glanced at Remus for a moment before sharing a smirk with Susan.

“You’re telling me that you, my Dad, Pettigrew, and Lupin all had leather jackets?”

Remus would have been offended that Harry thought he couldn’t pull off a leather jacket if Harry wasn’t absolutely correct. Not only did he look silly in Sirius’ jacket, but the thick leather would never replace the comfort of a thick cardigan.

“Nope,” Sirius admitted easily. “Only me. Your Dad said I looked like a git, Rem refused to wear one because he’s not cool, and Pettigrew would have looked like a tosser in one.”

Harry surprisingly let out another laugh and pulled the jacket on.

“You look brilliant,” Susan assured him. “Much better than Black does,” she added with a small grin.

“Thanks,” Harry told her before saluting Sirius half heartedly. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ prank anyone, but I do like this jacket.”

“Pranks are old news,” Sirius waved his hand airily. “The new news is the Triwizard Tournament. Are you worried? The first task is coming up,” he said seriously.

“I’m not worried,” Harry sat up and grinned at his godfather. “Mione reckons we’ll have to fight a Wendigo, wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“No,” Sirius sputtered. “No it wouldn’t. Merlin Pup. Wendigo are impossible to kill.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Harry shrugged again and the silence became tense until Remus offered to get them drinks.

When he returned with four butterbeers, the conversation was flowing a little more easily between Sirius and Susan as the witch chatted with Sirius about the changes her aunt had incorporated in to the aurors department.

“I read that the other students aren’t being very supportive of your place as a champion,” Remus said lightly to Harry as the other two carried on their conversation. “I guess they aren’t happy about you being in the tournament?”

“That’s an understatement,” Harry snorted. “But I think we’re changing their minds.”

“I bet you are.” Remus thought of the graffiti on his classroom door and Harry and Susan holding knives to a grown wizard. “How are you guys handling that?”

Harry gave him an odd look before he smirked and glanced at Susan. Susan quit talking with Sirius for a moment and smirked back at Harry. They looked oddly like Sirius and James used to when they were plotting a new prank or spectacle.

Well... maybe if Sirius and James had been little budding assassins with mafia aspirations that is. Remus had never been so glad that Sirius’ dream job used to always be Hit Wizard.

“Through a strong offense,” Harry said slyly. “It’s hard to wear buttons saying I suck when they keep catching on fire, isn’t it?”

Sirius roared with laughter, drawing more than a few sets of eyes towards them.

“Severus has his hands full, doesn’t he?” Remus unwittingly chuckled, he’d never felt so bad for Severus before in his life. “How are things besides that? Is it interesting having Moody as a Professor?”

Harry and Susan talked about their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes they’d had so far. It was rather jarring to see them behaving like any other student enjoying their weekend off when not an hour ago they were shaking a man down in an alleyway with knives.

Remus could also see from the way they described their current DADA class that the two of them were much more taken with Alastor Moody than they ever had been him. Of course Remus never would have used an Unforgiveable on a student. Considering Alastor’s own grey view of ‘rules’ and ‘regulations’ perhaps it wasn’t very surprising that Harry and Susan seemed to be fond of him as a Professor.

“You’d be a wicked Auror,” Sirius told Harry after Harry described throwing off the Imperious Curse with absolutely no effort. “It’s a shame they’re a bunch of tossers.”

“Isn’t it?” Susan grinned, despite her aunt being included in Sirius’ ‘tossers’ category.

The four of them talked more about the students’ other classes and Sirius described a recent short trip they took to the States. Before long Remus looked up and saw that the sun was setting.

“Are you guys ready to head to our place? It’s not far,” he said.

“Sure,” Harry agreed much more easily than Remus had anticipated. “Let’s go Sue.”

“And you’re sure your aunt gave you permission?” Sirius asked her, uncharacteristically serious for once.

“Would I lie to you?” Susan asked indignantly.

Remus let it go, but the answer was yes. Harry’s vicious best friend would absolutely lie straight to their faces if it meant staying by his side.

Though, he wouldn’t deny that he was much happier that Harry brought along Susan as opposed to his boyfriend.

Even if Susan had a feral look in her eyes sometimes that set Remus on edge.

The four of them walked across town towards their new place with Harry and Sirius talking away at the speed of light as they went.

“Muggles have blow torches- I could just burn it.”

“Or here’s an idea- freeze the feet then burn it.”

“Think I’ll lose points if it dies?”

“No, that’s the whole point, right?”

“Okay here’s another idea, tell me if it’s mad...”

Remus shook his head and attempted to keep track of their conversation, but it was mostly nonsense. He looked over at Susan and saw that she was smiling happily at whatever Harry and Sirius were discussing that involved explosives and flames.

Harry and Susan might resemble the mischievous Marauders, but Remus had the feeling that both students were much harder than they had ever been in their youth. Which, in Harry’s case especially, was a hardness he’d been forced to develop as a means of survival Remus suspected. But it was still disheartening to imagine how different his life may have been if James and Lily were still around to raise their son. Remus pushed those thoughts away and focused instead on the various methods for coaxing reluctant clients in to talking that he read about in a psychology textbook Severus sent him over the summer.

Once they arrived at their cottage Remus worried over the best way to try and get some one on one conversation with Harry. Luckily, after a quick tour of the little three bedroom place, Susan mentioned a spell in transfiguration that she was having trouble with and Sirius immediately leapt to assist her.

“Minnie used to hate it because I was her best and worst student,” he laughed, drawing smiles from the two students.

Remus loved that man so much. Even without knowing it, he’d said the perfect thing with the perfect offer and helped Remus out tremendously.

“Harry, do you know much about cooking?” Remus asked. “If you don’t want to watch them work on a spell I’m sure you already have memorized, I’d love some help.”

Harry squinted at him for a split second, as if judging the truth behind his words, before shrugging.

“Alright then, sure,” he said. “What’re you making?”

“Spaghetti,” Remus said with a wry smile, leading Harry to their cozy kitchen. “I’m a terrible cook, but it looked easy enough.”

“I know how to make spaghetti,” Harry said, which was rather surprising considering Harry had owned a House-Elf since he was 12.

Remus let Harry give him instructions for mincing the tomatoes while Harry himself flitted around the kitchen completing other tasks.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Remus asked conversationally when Harry joined him with a stack of onions.

“Surrey,” Harry said after a long pause.

“Did you cook with your aunt and uncle?”

Harry’s hands hesitated for a moment when he was mid-slice on an onion. He glanced up at Remus quickly, but Remus kept his expression impassive and only mildly curious.

“No,” Harry said shortly, shifting away from Remus subtly. “And you’re dicing when you should be mincing.”

Remus chuckled and readjusted his work.

“I bet you’re a dab at potions,” he said. “I’d think a lot of cooking skills translate over to preparing potions easily.”

Harry hummed, “Yeah, maybe.”

Remus let Harry fall in to a thoughtful silence while they worked together for a few minutes before trying again.

“Do you ever miss your moms family? I think I remember Lily telling me her sister had a son your age.”

“Pft,” Harry sneered as he made a particularly vicious cut of the peppers he was now chopping. “Dudley was his name.”

“Was?” Remus glanced up at him in surprise. “Did he pass away?”

“He’s dead to me,” Harry quipped.

“So I’d guess that you don’t miss them then,” Remus said with a kind smile. “I never had any family aside from my parents until I started Hogwarts. Your grandparents all but adopted Sirius and I. They were lovely people.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s face was schooled in to an expression of disinterest, but Remus could detect the slightest hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were two of the kindest people you could ever meet. They did dote on your father a bit too much though,” he grinned at Harry who he was pleased to see gave him a small smile in return. “I only met your moms parents once though, but they seemed just as kind as your mom was.”

“Weird thing to brag about to a kid who never met his grandparents,” Harry said lightly.

Yeah... yeah it was.

“Merlin,” Remus grimaced and felt his entire face heat up with shame. “I’m so sorry Harry, of course you wouldn’t want to hear about that would you? I wasn’t thinking.”

“Everyone does it,” Harry said. “Everyone tells me how nice my family was and how wonderful, but that doesn’t bring them back, does it? Just rubs it in what I never got.”

“I’m sorry Harry, I never thought of it like that,” Remus said gently. “I just- I thought maybe you’d want to hear the good things. I could tell you about their flaws and mistakes instead or I can shut up, you tell me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was also chuckling under his breath too, which Remus took as a good sign.

“Snape says my moms mom was terrifying,” Harry said. “He couldn’t lie to her because she was so scary.”

“I imagine most kids feel that way about their parents,” Remus said, thankful for the chance to change the subject. “I can’t imagine being brave enough to ever lie to Severus.”

Harry shrugged. Remus personally thought Harry shrugged as a way to stall when he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to say.

“I don’t lie to him, and he doesn’t lie to me. If he asks me something, I tell him.”

“All the time?” Remus asked as he poured the minced tomatoes in to a bowl.

“Yup.” Harry poured the onions and peppers in to the bowl as well and took it to the stove.

Remus bit his lower lip for a moment while he tried to find a way to continue that line of conversation without putting Harry’s defenses up.

“I like to think I rarely lied to my parents, but there were some things I definitely kept to myself. Your godfather for example.”

“Really?” Harry looked over his shoulder at Remus and scowled darkly for a moment. “Were you ashamed of him?”

Remus smiled as he realized that this teenager who looked insulted on Sirius’ behalf is the same one who threw a knife at the same man not even twelve months ago.

... and the same one with a knife to a man’s throat less than four hours ago.

“Not of him, but of myself,” Remus explained. “It used to be much more stigmatized to be a homosexual. And I was afraid my parents would think it was one oddity too many and cut me out of their lives.”

“Hmm,” Harry flicked the stove to life and began expertly cooking the vegetables they prepared. “Homosexual means you’re just attracted to men, yeah?”

“It does,” Remus said.

“Theo said I’m not gay. He says Blaise and I are ‘bisexual’.” Harry laughed, “Blaise says he’s ‘babe-sexual’ though.”

Remus chuckled at that. Blaise Zabini was going to be a heartbreaker he was sure of it.

“Were you nervous to tell Severus about Fred?” he asked when Harry began throwing spices Remus could scarcely identify in the pan with the simmering vegetables.

“What?” Harry glanced at him incredulously before turning back to the stove. “No. Snape practically told me I should accept his date. Course now he pretends like he hates Fred, but it’s mostly an act I think. Can you get water going for the pasta?”

“Sure.” Remus grabbed another large pot and filled it with water and obediently handed it to Harry. “I imagine it would be hard to hate Fred Weasley. He’s quite charismatic.”

“Yeah, he makes friends like nothing else,” Harry shook his head in faux-exasperation. “It’s mad how everyone likes him.”

“Sirius is like that too,” Remus smiled at yet another thing he had in common with Harry. “It was exhausting. I’d want to read in quiet and Sirius would want to go to a party with his fifty closest friends.”

Harry’s momentary look of irritation was a reminder that Remus likely was not forgiven for busting the party Harry and Fred attended last winter. He tried to change the subject while still probing Harry for more information.

“That smells great,” he said honestly. “Do you ever cook at your home during the holidays?”

“I tried baking a cake once,” Harry said with a sheepish grin. “But I buggered it up, didn’t I? Mavis was mad as hell.”

Remus assumed it would be a moot point to comment on Harry’s language. But that was really more of a Severus problem anyway.

“This’ll be done in ten,” Harry said, he turned down the heat settings and looked pleased with himself. “Do you wanna try the sauce?”

“Sure.” Remus accepted the spoon with the tomato sauce on it that Harry offered and was impressed with the taste. “Merlin Harry, that’s amazing!”

“I mastered spaghetti by the time I was six,” Harry said proudly.

Which... was disturbing. Six was a young age to even pour a bowl of cereal competently, let alone cooking a meal on a hot stove.

“That’s quite the accomplishment,” Remus said neutrally. “Can you cook much else? Besides cake,” he smiled.

“Loads,” Harry bragged. “I used to do all the cooking in Surrey.”

“Wow,” Remus tried to make himself sound impressed rather than startled by the confession. “Nobody helped you?”

“No,” Harry laughed, but it was a cold and joyless sound. “I was a fuckin’ House Elf to those people.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Remus said, keeping his tone light and not pitying. “Want me to call Sirius and Susan in here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Remus quickly called for Sirius and Susan who were engaged in a mock-duel in the sitting room which now had books and throw pillows scattered everywhere.

“Supper’s finished,” he said. “Come and eat.”

“You didn’t cook it, did you Moony?” Sirius nudged Susan with his elbow lightly. “Moons is a terrible cook.”

“I’m not terrible,” Remus disagreed. “But no, Harry did most of the work.”

Sirius laughed and led Susan to the table.

“After you my dear,” he said pretentiously as he held her chair out.

“Thank you sir,” Susan laughed as she accepted the seat.

“Ta da!” Harry levitated two bowls to the table and landed them in the middle of the table while Remus quickly grabbed dinnerware.

“Looks awesome,” Sirius said with an eager smile. “Much better than whatever goop Moody would have made.”

“Hey- he helped,” Harry said.

Which was probably the first nice thing Harry had ever said about Remus.

“I minced the tomatoes,” Remus shrugged and pulled a chair out for Harry before taking his own seat. “Harry’s the real genius here.”

Harry shrugged modestly, which was surprising. Harry usually takes a lot of pride in the things he accomplishes. But maybe he doesn’t consider cooking to be much of an accomplishment?

“Let’s dig in,” Sirius cried.

Everyone ate and complimented Harry on his culinary skills. Remus was happy when Susan and Harry brought up the current werewolf legislation and they spent most of dinner discussing the various ways different legislations help and hurt werewolves. It was a relief to have a familiar topic to carry on with the two students who had seemed to dislike him the most during his short career as a professor.

Harry and Susan were both clearly well-educated in politics. Remus actually had a hard time keeping up with their theories and ideas on current laws and regulations. Sirius had all but given up and was only adding in thoughtful hums here and there.

“Aconite being so expensive is just another way that the Ministry keeps the poverty cycle going for werewolves,” Harry said, his eyes were lit up and glowing brightly, showing his obviously intense passion for the topic. “Deny werewolves jobs with one legislation, rack up the cost of the main ingredient in wolfsbane with another, and BAM!” he smacked the table lightly. “They make sure that wolves can’t afford the one thing that would actually improve their lives.”

“It ensures that werewolves are always second class citizens,” Susan said disdainfully. “It’s an effective and disgusting way to keep purebloods in the top of the food chain.”

“Exactly!” Remus nodded vehemently. “And now they want to have a public registry of wolves for ‘the public safety’, it’s unfair to enforce on people who had no choice in the matter! It might as well be a list called ‘do not hire’.”

“I’m going to change it one day,” Harry swore.

And Remus believed him. He thought there probably wasn’t anything Harry couldn’t accomplish if he really wanted to.

Especially if he kept carrying around the dagger that Remus occasionally saw glinting beneath the sleeve of his robes.

When everyone was in bed, Remus felt a twinge of guilt. He’d meant to talk more with Harry about his own life during his stay and now felt like they’d hardly scratched any surfaces.

Then Remus got his second lucky break of the day and heard someone in the kitchen. The light footsteps made him hopeful that it was Harry, that boy moved as quietly as any ghost. He thought maybe Harry was searching for a drink or a snack, he hadn’t ate much at dinner.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured to Sirius.

“Kay,” Sirius sighed before rolling over and easily falling back asleep.

Remus shook his head at the man before carefully climbing out of their bed and quietly moving towards the kitchen. He’d give anything to fall asleep as easily as Sirius.

“Harry?”

Harry spun around and brandished his, apparently constantly carried, knife strapped to his arm in Remus’ direction before he blinked a few times and withdrew it.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Are you alright?” Harry looked ill, and he smelled ill as well. Not like an infection, something Remus could easily identify, but just... different. His face was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat, his hands had the slightest tremble to them, and his eyes were mildly glassy as he stared up at Remus from his seat at the dining table.

“Fine,” Harry muttered. Which Remus didn’t think was true. But he also knew Harry had a severe potions allergy that put him in the hospital last year, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Should I call Severus?” he asked hesitantly. “I’d offer you a potion, but I think he’d probably kill me if I poisoned you.”

Harry gave him a half-smile and cradled his head in his hands.

“No, I’ll be fine here soon. He’ll just freak out.”

Remus grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water before offering it to Harry.

“I never used to think Severus was a ‘freak out’ kind of person before you came along,” he said kindly. “He’s very fond of you, isn’t he?”

“Suppose so,” Harry mumbled before quickly drinking the water. “Ta.”

“Can I get you anything else?” Remus asked him with concern. Harry peeked up at him and Remus saw the quickest flash of longing before he lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“I don’t mind, really,” he assured Harry. “Are you hungry? Maybe something light to eat?”

“Maybe... maybe that hot chocolate, like you had that one night? If you’ve got it, if not it’s fine. Actually never mind, I’m fine.”

Remus hid a sad smile at Harry’s own refusal to state a want to someone.

“Perfect, that’s what I came down here for anyway,” Remus lied. “Two hot chocolates coming right up.”

Harry seemed to be torn between cradling his head in both hands and watching Remus warily as he prepared the drinks. Remus thought they were both relieved when he finally sat down and slid a large mug of cocoa across the table to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered. Remus nodded in acknowledgment and they sat in what was surprisingly a companionable silence for a few minutes while they sipped their drinks.

“I told the Muggle Mind Healer that hot chocolate made me happy,” Harry smirked at him with only a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. “But I also told him magic and flying did too.”

Remus chuckled and remembered the little bit of information Sirius had shared with him about their mind healer sessions.

“Sirius didn’t tell me what you guys talked about but he did say: ‘Moony it’s hard not talking about magic in front of muggles’.”

Harry let out a huff of laughter at that and looked remarkably like a mischievous James when he leant across the table towards him.

“I needed Black to talk about magic too or else that Mind Healer would just think I was crazy and Snape wouldn’t obliviate him.”

“That’s quite Slytherin of you,” Remus grinned. And it was. Harry didn’t want the muggle to know anything about him and so he did what he could to get the man’s memory erased.

It was undeniably cunning, but also smart. Much like most of Harry’s decisions.

“Timmy told me I’m an excellent Slytherin,” Harry said. Remus racked his brains trying to remember a student Harry was friends with that would be called Timmy but eventually conceded.

“Who’s Timmy?”

“Voldemort.”

Remus choked on his cocoa and Harry watched with perhaps too much interest as Remus worked to clear his airway.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Caught me by surprise.”

“It’s stupid to be scared of a name,” Harry said lightly. “Isn’t it?”

“I think my surprise came more from hearing him called ‘Timmy’ than hearing his name,” Remus said a bit sarcastically.

“Timmy is his name,” Harry insisted, his eyes gleeful, if still glassy, and his voice earnest. “Voldemort’s just his street name.”

Remus wasn’t sure if Harry had meant to let that slip or not and tried to choose his words carefully as he probed at that line of conversation.

“What’s a street name?” he asked.

“It’s a thing street kids do,” Harry explained. “It’s like nicknames they give so if the cops bust them they can’t take them back to their real parents.”

“Aah, what was yours?”

“James, easy enough to remember, wasn’t it?”

“Aah.”

Remus hadn’t been aware that Harry had lived on the streets long enough to need a ‘street name’. Which must mean he wasn’t referring to his brief stint the Daily Prophet mentioned in his second year. So...

So before Hogwarts?

“Did you stay in London a lot? I stayed in a shelter there for a few days when I was between jobs,” Remus said truthfully. “Let’s see... I think it was in 1989.”

“I would have been... 9?” Harry asked. Remus nodded. “Yeah, brill, I would have loved to meet a wizard before Hogwarts. Even if it was just you.”

Remus ignored that light jab as he processed that. Harry was 9 and living on the streets? But when he was 6 he’d been cooking for his relatives.

“Phew, you’re tough to have been so young and survived.” Remus hoped appealing to Harry’s ego might keep him talking. “Nine is awfully young to be navigating shelters on your own. Or was your moms family with you?”

“Pft,” Harry scoffed. “I was on my own a week after I turned eight. Kids older than me were dying every day, but not me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded absently as his heart broke. “It’s impressive.”

It was also terrible and tragic and the saddest thing Remus had ever heard.

“Thanks,” Harry gave him a ghost of a grin before he finished off his drink. “I think I’m going to go back to bed.”

Remus looked him over and thought Harry looked a bit healthier than he had, though he was still pale and had a slight tremble in his hands.

“Alright, if you need anything just come beat on our door, okay?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed.

They both knew he wouldn’t.

Remus sat at the table for another hour longer, just staring in his empty mug. Eventually he summoned a parchment and made a few quick notes on Harry.

Survivor was underlined thrice. He thought perhaps that was Harry’s most defining personality trait.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Harry would think, ‘Wow this is the most miserable I’ve ever been’, and then he thinks back to all the other times he’s thought that and is somehow surprised to find out they’ve almost all been at Hogwarts.

Definitely not all of them, but most of them.

Certainly the fortnight after Halloween anyway.

Harry had carefully talked to Theo about it after Theo threatened to get Snape when he found Harry getting sick in the dorm loo for the sixth night in a row.

He didn’t tell him he’d been taking muggle medicine for madness though, he said he was taking muggle medicine for allergies (something he knew Theo had as well because of all the cats in Hogwarts) and he quit taking it and then got sick. Theo swore to find out what was causing it and Harry made him take a Vow not to tell anyone else unless Harry directly gave him permission.

He liked Theo. Theo declared himself to be Harry’s brother, which was brill because Harry had secretly always wanted a brother. But if Theo told Hermione she’d tell Snape and then Snape would know he wasn’t taking his pills.

And he didn’t want Theo telling anyone he was taking pills in the first place, even if Theo didn’t know what they had really been for.

“It’s called withdrawals,” Theo whispered to him while he slowly smoothed Harry’s fringe off his sweat plastered face one night when Harry was too sick to push him away. “It’s what happens when you stop taking a medicine all at once.”

“It feels like my brain is being shocked,” Harry moaned. He’d been so sick that he scarcely cared how weak he looked. But if anyone didn’t care, it would be Theo. Harry had seen Theo cry before, this really just made them even.

“Brain zaps,” Theo said softly. “Maybe you should take the medicine again Harry. It’s got to be better than this.”

“No,” Harry groaned before emptying his already empty stomach again.

So Harry was having withdrawals.

And they sucked.

But it would suck more if he died.

He had too much to do, and had already done too much, to die now because he couldn’t take a potion.

Some days were better than others though. Days like when they were outside and the sun was peeking out behind the clouds and Harry could ignore Hagrid as he rambled about something in favor of playing with the rapidly growing Blast-Ended Skrewts. He felt fine in moments like this.

But then sometimes, like in Trewlaney’s Divination classroom, he’d be hit with a wave of nausea so strong that he barely was able to duck to the back of the room and put up a silencing charm before getting sick in one of their Professor’s teapots.

Worst of all was transfiguration and potions though.

McGonagall clearly thought he was upset about the tournament so she kept giving him ‘encouraging pep talks’ when all Harry wanted to do was find a blanket to warm away the sudden fevery shivers he’d gotten.

“You’re a talented young man,” McGonagall would say. “I think that the other champions should be looking out for you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry would repeat quickly, hoping to escape soon.

And Potions was the hardest to get through because Snape was smart. Too smart. Smart enough that getting through his class without setting off Snape’s ’Potter is up to something’ radar was a real challenge.

But Harry was smart too.

Harry washed away any trace of sweat on his face before he entered the classroom and put a cooling charm on himself for the duration. It was better to be cold than to be sweating in front of Snape. He had Draco do most of the prep work when Snape was inspecting their class and kept his trembling hands tucked away. He also chewed mint leaves Theo gave him to make sure he wasn’t sick during those classes.

And Snape never noticed.

Snape even gave Harry a refill of his pills, thinking the old bottle was empty on the 18th like always.

If Harry wasn’t so busy feeling miserable he was sure he’d be smug about it.

Today was one of the good days though. He only had morning classes, and he didn’t meet with Snape and his friends for their private lesson for two more days and it was decent weather for mid-November.

Harry and his friends were outside playing poker with Viktor Krum.

“I do not understand this game,” Krum groaned.

“That’s because you’re a seeker,” Ron said. “You aren’t used to doing strategy- you just find the snitch and fly after it.”

“There’s more to it than that!” Harry scowled. “It takes skill and talent.”

“Vot he said,” Krum nodded sagely.

“I think you’re doing great,” Luna said sweetly from her spot beside Harry. “Much better than Blaise is.”

“I’m winning Lue,” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Not for long,” Luna said happily.

“I can’t believe you two are playing cards when the first task is less than a week away,” Hermione frowned.

“How can they prepare for a task that’s literally supposed to be a surprise?” Neville asked her logically.

“Ta Nev,” Harry murmured. He was trying to focus on making sure that he and Krum didn’t lose too terribly at cards, he still had six days to worry about not losing the task. He was also trying to subtly glance at Draco’s loosely held cards when a nearby giggle caught his attention.

“What’s he doing?” Ron asked curiously as his attention was caught by where his brothers were chatting with a couple silk robed girls from Beauxbatons.

“Dunno.” Harry narrowed his eyes at the girls and scowled when one of them turned to look at him then rolled her own eyes with a small grin. “I’ll be back.”

“Am I coming?” Susan asked.

“No.”

Harry put his hands in his jeans pockets and walked casually towards Fred, George, and the fucking giggling girls.

“Enjoying this beautiful weather Harrikins?” George grinned when Harry walked up to their group. Fred just nodded at him, much cooler than he usually does.

“Suppose so.” Harry looked at the girls and glanced at them slowly from top to bottom before he smirked just slightly. “Harry,” he said. “Harry Potter.”

“Jean,” one girl smiled prettily.

“Jules,” the one who rolled her eyes at him now batted her eyelashes.

Harry didn’t realize it until he was up close, but they were identical twins just like Fred and George.

And pretty.

Pretty identical twins who were batting their stupid eyelashes and smiling brightly.

“We were explaining British culture to them,” Fred winked at the girls and Harry felt a sudden wave of annoyance.

“Yeah?” he said tightly, raising both his brows at Fred. “I thought you were busy with orders and couldn’t hang out today?”

“We got done sooner than we thought-“

“-and it looked like you had plenty of people anyway,” Fred finished his brothers sentence with a narrowed eyed glance towards where Harry’s friends were sitting together beside the lake.

The two Beauxbatons girls ‘Jean and Jules’ glanced curiously between the boys.

“We can go, yes?” one of them said. “You are busy?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Harry glared at Fred in real annoyance now and was surprised to see Fred was glaring back at him.

“Let’s just go...” George linked his arms with either girl and the three of them quickly headed off towards the castle. Harry and Fred hardly noticed.

“What’s your problem?” Fred asked him.

Not asked.

Demanded.

And Harry didn’t have to answer to anyone.

“Who says I have a problem?” Harry snarled.

“I do,” Fred said stubbornly. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, then you go and hang out with Viktor bloody Krum, and all of a sudden you come stomping over here all pissed at me.”

“I was not avoiding you,” Harry said hotly. “I was fuckin’ sick, wasn’t I? I’m still sick. And I invited you to play cards. You said you were busy but you clearly weren’t too busy for ‘Julie and Jeanie’.”

“Jules and Jean,” Fred corrected him which just made Harry scowl harder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“Because it’s my business, isn’t it?”

“This is the problem! Everything isn’t my business!” Fred exclaimed loudly, prompting Harry to put up a privacy shield as more than a few people turned to look at them. “You don’t tell me you’re sick and then I think you’re done with me because you don’t talk to me for days!”

“So you were going to hang out with Julie to make up for it? That’s real fuckin’ brill Fred, thanks.”

Fred stared at Harry for a long moment until a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of what? Fuckin’ Julie? Nope,” Harry curled his lip up with disdain. “I’m sure she’s great, yeah? She seemed sooo interesting when she was batting her fuckin’ eyelashes at me.”

“You are!” Fred laughed and Harry debated for a second on hexing him. He didn’t. Not yet. But he would. “You’re hanging out with Mister Muscular International Seeker Who Wants to be Your BFF and you’re jealous of a bird from Beauxbatons!”

“She’s not just a ‘bird’,” Harry grit out through a tightly clenched jaw. “She was pretty and acting like a giggling, stupid, twit! And Krum is not muscular.”

“You’d know,” Fred spat, his laughter fading and his eyes hardening once again.

“What’s that supposed to mean then?”

“Why’s he always hanging around you? Huh?”

“Because we’re friends, stupid,” Harry sneered. “You know, like you and Julieeeee.”

“I can’t believe you’re jealous of her,” Fred laughed again.

“I’m going to hex you next time you laugh at me, fair warning.” Harry wouldn’t normally offer warnings, but, aside from right now, he normally liked Fred too, so apparently it was a day to try new things.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Fred said even though his eyes still looked glittery with laughter. “Harry, I’m gay. Gay gay. Super gay. As in Jules could have stripped naked and threw herself on top of me and-“

“And I would have killed her, probably would have been a rather traumatic experience for you, yeah?” Harry gripped his knife and blinked back a haze of red just picturing it.

“Watching you kill her would be hotter than seeing her naked,” Fred grinned. “Does that make you happy?”

“No,” Harry said curtly, even though it did just a bit. “Why were you standing here talking to her if you wanted to talk to me?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me like the dragon pox,” Fred huffed, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. “I figured if you weren’t talking to me anymore then I wasn’t going to look pathetic and go chasing you down.”

“I told you I’ve been sick,” Harry said with only the tiniest amount of guilt twisting his stomach. He had been avoiding Fred. He didn’t want Fred to know he was sick and think he was weak or pathetic.

“Now you tell me, but I bet your friends already knew, didn’t they?”

“Only Lue, Susan, and Theo,” Harry said. Theo found him in the bathroom getting sick, Susan saw him picking at his food and guessed, and Luna just kept bringing him hot cocoa just like Lupin’s in the evenings so she must have just figured it out on her own. Theo was the only one he told about the pills though.

“How come they got to know you didn’t feel good but I didn’t?” Fred asked quietly. “I want you to trust me too.”

“I do trust you,” Harry said hesitantly. “It’s just... it’s different with you, isn’t it?”

“How?” Fred leaned against the tree he was standing beside and looked steadily in to Harry’s eyes. “What makes me different?”

Harry shrugged and scuffed his trainers in the grass while he tried to think of how to explain it.

“It doesn’t matter if they see me when I’m weak,” he said with an actual honest effort at explaining his thoughts. “They all know I’m not, don’t they? Do you?”

“I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life and you make me feel weak by comparison,” Fred said without hesitation.

“What?” Harry was startled by his easily spoken admission. “Why- why’d you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Also while I’m being honest; I’m jealous of Krum. And I used to be jealous of Luna. But now I’m just jealous that she got to know you were sick and I didn’t.”

“Are you mad?” Harry asked slowly. Fred didn’t look mad. But if he was upset about that many things then it would make sense if he was mad.

“No,” Fred shook his head and kept calmly watching Harry. “I said I’m jealous, not angry.”

“I...” Harry trailed off and furrowed his brows. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Fred shrugged his shoulder casually. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

“Then why tell me?”

“Because we’re in a relationship, at some point we have to start trusting each other with things.”

“You don’t trust me?” Harry asked. He tried to say it firmly, but it sounded too quiet.

“I trust you with my thoughts and ideas and my past, but not with my feelings.”

Harry wasn’t really sure why Fred would trust him with the big things, but not something as unimportant as feelings. Harry was terrible at dealing with peoples feelings though, it made his skin itch just to think about, so that was probably fair.

“I trust you with my thoughts,” Harry protested feebly. He knew he didn’t trust Fred with as much as Fred trusted him. He wanted to. He liked Fred. And being with Fred was brilliant, but... “You’d leave,” Harry blurted out. “If I told you all those other things about me you’d leave. And... and I don’t want you to.”

It was a childish mistake to make, admitting to someone something you wanted. If Fred left before now, it would suck. But if he left after he knew Harry didn’t want him to? That would be way worse.

“I wouldn’t.”

Harry took a half step backwards and shook his head.

“You don’t even know the real me. You only know the good stuff, the stuff that people like about me.”

“Take a chance Darlin,” Fred said softly. “Let me prove myself. I want to know all the things about you that you think people won’t like.”

“I- I dunno,” Harry flicked his eyes around the lawn quickly while he tried to think. “Are we going to breakup if I don’t?”

“Of course not,” Fred looked insulted. “Harry you don’t have to tell me anything. I want you to, but not if you think you have to.”

“Alright... well... maybe later, yeah?” Harry felt hot and wasn’t sure if his hands were shaking from the pill withdrawal or because he felt so on edge right now.

Fred squinted at him for a moment before brightening and straightening up immediately.

“There’s something I need to do, can I sit with you at dinner?”

“Er, alright then.” Harry was caught off guard by Fred’s sudden shift. But he was also relieved to be done with the conversation for now.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Fred said happily before jogging away, popping Harry’s privacy dome and leaving behind a startled and confused Harry.

“If you bring that twit to our table I’m going to tell Snape it’s your fault I killed her!” Harry yelled across the courtyard, pleased when more than one student jumped at his declaration.

“What was that about?” Draco asked when Harry rejoined his friends.

“Harry was being jealous,” Blaise snickered.

Harry sent a stinging hex at Blaise’s exposed wrist. He gave Fred a warning, he wasn’t going to extend that offer to everyone else.

“Who’s winning?”

Harry had just pocketed one of his pills at dinner when the entrance doors burst open dramatically.

“Merlin save me,” Theo groaned quietly when Fred strode in and walked straight to the Slytherin table before kneeling down beside where Harry had jumped to his feet when the doors burst open.

“Harry James Potter, light of my life, my northern star, the apple of my eye: will you, THE MOST BRILLIANT BOYFRIEND A BLOKE COULD ASK FOR, go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

“Oh my God,” Hermione and Susan started giggling like mad while Harry turned a shocking shade of red as the rest of students in the Hall started catcalling and whistling at them.

“We’re already dating, get up,” Harry hissed.

“And happy couples never stop going on dates,” Fred said loudly. “I’ve prepared a poem to help convince you though. Ahem, YOU ARE THE SEEKER OF MY-“

“God. Yes. Fuck. Shut up.” Harry said quickly.

“WHOOP!”

Harry only barely resisted the urge to slam his head on the table when the Gryffindor’s, most of whom hated Harry, but all of whom liked Fred, broke into loud applause. Harry glanced up at the Head Table and curled his lip up at Snape’s dark eyed look of amusement.

Bastard.

“Was that truly necessary?” Theo asked Fred drily as he shoved him over and took his seat across from Harry.

“Harry thought I was interested in someone else, I figured I’d show the whole school at once that there’s only one person for me.”

“Romantic,” Luna sighed.

Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table and felt his embarrassment at Fred’s antics recede as ‘Jules’ stabbed at her potatoes with more force than was necessary. He smiled brightly when she looked up at him and scowled.

Now that he knew what to look for, he didn’t miss Fred’s sly smirk when he asked Krum to pass him the rolls either though.

“You two are ridiculous,” Ron waved his fork in their direction. Harry and Fred both shrugged.

“How’d you convince McGonagall to let us leave the school?” Harry asked Fred curiously when he met him in the Entrance Hall the next evening and began leading him to Hogsmeade by the hand.

“I didn’t ask her, I asked Snape,” Fred grinned.

“Snape gave us permission to go get dinner in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked.

“He traded me permission,” Fred said.

Snape was a bastard, but he was also sneaky and clever.

“What’d you have to give up?”

“I offered a months worth of detentions, and he said ‘absolutely not’, so instead I’m not allowed to talk in his class for a month.”

Harry laughed at that. Snape really worked hard to pretend like he hated Fred. But Harry figured if he really hated Fred that he’d just curse him and be done with it.

They walked in an easy silence, only broken occasionally by Fred’s terrible jokes about their teachers and Harry’s laughter.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked when they got to Hogsmeade and passed the Three Broomsticks.

“The barman at the Hogs Head owes me a favor,” Fred said. “I’m gonna try and cash it in by ordering lager.”

“You might as well be a Slytherin,” Harry laughed at his antics.

“I almost was. But then the hat said I was more brash and bold than I was cunning so I became McGonagall’s problem.”

“Good thing,” Harry said with mock-solemnity as Fred opened the door of a dingy little grey building for him. “Can you imagine Snape’s face if we were both in Slytherin?”

“It fuels most of my dreams,” Fred laughed. He wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and led him towards a booth in the back of the pub. “I’m gonna grab a couple menus, and drinks,” he winked. “I’ll be back.”

Harry sat down in the booth and watched as Fred confidently strut up to the barkeep with a long grey beard and sharp ice blue eyes. It looked like they argued for a minute or two until the barkeep scowled and flicked a dirty towel at Fred before he turned and poured two glasses of lager.

“It’s magic!” Fred announced happily when he got back to their table. “Abeforth is a good bloke, drives a hard bargain though.”

“Cheers then,” Harry laughed as Fred slid him one of the cold foamy drinks. “Ugh, fuck, that’s disgusting Fred.”

Fred laughed loudly and Harry felt some of his previous tension melting away at the sound. He didn’t like to be constantly fighting with people he liked, and fighting with Fred yesterday and Snape a couple weeks ago was... not stressful necessarily. But he certainly didn’t like it.

They placed their orders, and Harry insisted on paying, and then Harry told Fred about his run in with Bagman outside the Three Broomsticks.

“I told him he can pay me 600 Galleons at each of the tasks,” Harry explained while they waited on their food. “So thats like 400 Galleons more than he owed you, yeah? That’s what Sue said. But I told her she could have 200 of it since the interest was her idea.”

“Then you should get the other 200 since you’re the one doing the work,” Fred said.

“Nah,” Harry waved his hand. “I’ll already get 300 from the tournament. I don’t need it. You should use it.”

“You get 1000,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“No, I owe you 500 for not entering and Ron 200 for not entering.”

“You’re mad,” Fred laughed, distracting Harry from the small chime that indicated someone entered the pub. “Absolutely-“

“Fred?”

Harry curled his fingers up into his robe sleeve and touched the edge of his knife as Fred’s brother, Charlie, walked in the pub and made straight for their table.

“Charlie? What’re you doing here?” Fred glanced at Harry, who had already cleared any emotion off his face and was watching the man closely as he approached them.

“Working,” Charlie said, jerking his thumb behind him to where two other thickset men had settled at the bar counter. “Why are you drinking?”

“To stay hydrated,” Harry drawled irritably. He didn’t like Charlie, and he definitely didn’t like him questioning Fred. Fred wasn’t the one who was supposed to be in Romania.

Charlie glanced at Harry with surprise and Harry was further irritated to see that Charlie had the exact same shade of blue in his eyes that Fred had.

“Shouldn’t you two be in school?” he asked Fred.

“Shouldn’t you be in Romania?” Fred quipped back.

Charlee glanced at Harry again and then raised his brows at Fred.

“I’m working,” he said slowly, putting unnecessary stress on his words.

“Go work somewhere else,” Fred rolled his eyes. “We are on a date and you are ruining it.”

“Oh Fred,” Charlie’s eyes lit up like Fred’s do when he’s about to cause someone to have a terrible day. “And miss one of the few opportunities I’ve ever gotten to embarrass one of my brothers on a date? Never! Scoot.”

Harry felt the muscles in his back stiffen as Charlie shoved Fred over and sat next to him, across from Harry.

“Charlie you idiot, go away,” Fred groaned while he shot an apologetic look at Harry.

“Or, I could tell Harry here about that time you had a whole fake wedding for you and the duck stuffed animal you used to carry around,” Charlie grinned while he snagged Fred’s drink.

Harry glanced between Fred and Charlie, unsure what he was supposed to do. On the one hand, Fred told Charlie to go away and he wasn’t, so Harry could make him. On the other hand, if someone had cursed Theo then Harry would be pissed and he really didn’t want to fight with Fred again.

“You married a duck?” he asked Fred instead, his lips twitching just from saying such a bizarre sentence.

“He did,” Charlie slowly set his wand on the table and crossed his arms with a broad smile. “He called him Mister Duckingham.”

Harry didn’t want to laugh, he really didn’t, but when Charlie quacked in Fred’s face he couldn’t hold it in.

Harry kept a close eye on Charlie through dinner; during which time Charlie and Fred seemed to be in a contest over who had the more embarrassing stories about the other. At some point they tried to team up and talk about Ron, but Harry shut that down quick.

“Ron’s one of my best mates,” he warned Charlie quietly. “And he’s not here to defend himself, is he?”

Fred winked at him, but Charlie nodded approvingly.

After they finished eating, Fred excused himself to the loo and an uncomfortable silence fell between Harry and Charlie.

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Charlie asked casually.

“Not really, no,” Harry admitted with a shrug. Harry could probably drive his knife in Charlie’s right shoulder before he could grab his wand so there wasn’t any point in lying.

“But you like Bill, and George, and Ron.”

“Percy too,” Harry lied. He didn’t really like Percy, but Percy didn’t look like the kind of person who would kick an old drunk to death for no good reason.

“Hmm,” Charlie eyed Harry thoughtfully. Harry held his gaze and lifted one brow in a silent challenge. “So what did I do to earn your dislike then?”

“You did just crash our date,” Harry sneered lightly. “So it’s not like you’re working hard to gain my friendship, are you?”

Charlie chuckled for no good reason and sat up.

“I am working hard though,” he said. “Did Fred or Ron tell you what I do for a living?”

“Dragon tamer, yeah?” Harry asked as he looked around Charlie to make sure nobody had blocked or locked the door. He wasn’t sure if Charlie was trying to threaten him, but Harry was sure he was harder to kill than a dragon was.

“What are we talking about?” Fred asked brightly, walking back up to their table. “Besides how Charlie ruined our date and we should get going.”

“I was telling Harry that I’m working,” Charlie said.

“You look like you’re drinking,” Fred pointed out as he offered his hand to Harry. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Merlin, you two are dense,” Charlie groaned before finishing his drink in one long gulp. “I am working because I am a dragon tamer and Hogwarts needed four dragons to use in five days. Should I summon a quill and draw you a photo?”

Fred’s jaw dropped and Harry’s lips spread in to a slow but genuine smile.

“Dragons?” he breathed. “It’s dragons we have to face?”

Harry and Fred stared in each other’s eyes, Fred looked terrified, but Harry was excited.

This was going to be better than any troll, or basilisk, or Boggart.

“Sorry our date got ruined,” Fred said quietly when they were laying alone in Harry’s bed later that night.

“Did it?” Harry rolled on his side and raised his brows at Fred.

“Hanging out with my brother you don’t like probably wasn’t much of a good time,” Fred said with a wry smile. “The dragons were really just the icing on the cake.”

“I thought it was fine,” Harry said. “I’m glad we went. Now I know what the task is, yeah?”

“That’s true,” Fred said. “I’m just being selfish. I had a whole plan you know.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

Fred rolled on his side now too and traced a pattern on Harry’s arm.

“I was going to ask you about a million questions and hope you would trust me with at least 10 answers, then I was going to tell you a secret in exchange.”

Harry felt his muscles tense up and took a few deep breaths while he debated quickly.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “10 questions.”

“No,” Fred smiled over at him, taking the sting out of his refusal. “I don’t want you to because you think you have to. I was hoping I could... I dunno... romance you into trusting me?” Fred laughed quietly.

“I trust you,” Harry said. “10 questions then you tell me your secret.”

Fred stared in Harry’s eyes for at least a minute, as if weighing whether or not he’d play.

“Are you nervous about the dragon?” he finally asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

“No.”

“Gryffindor,” Fred accused with an approving grin. “Oh yeah, speaking of which, why’d it take so long for you to be sorted?”

“We were talking about the different houses.” Harry laughed when he remembered how long his sorting took. “He couldn’t decide until I told him to pick a house or I was going to catch him on fire and he sent me to Slytherin.”

Fred laughed too and kept tracing Harry’s arm while he thought about his next question.

“How come you always wear long sleeve’s?” Harry had gotten so relaxed by the simple first two questions that he was caught entirely off guard by the third.

“Uh...” Harry pulled his arm away from Fred and rolled to his stomach so he could tuck both arms beneath himself.

“Hey.”

Harry stared hard at the bed hangings in front of him and glanced at Fred out of the corner of his eye.

“You can tell me anything,” Fred said earnestly. “I’m not leaving. I swear.”

Theo knows, he reasoned with himself. And Snape said I should trust people...

Not fuckin’ stray dogs anymore. But... maybe Fred?

“Do you tell George stuff about me?” Harry asked.

“Do you mean, ‘will I tell George what you say?’ No. I won’t,” Fred said seriously. “But you don’t have to answer either. You can pass. Or we can forget it and go to sleep right now.”

Harry nearly gave in, but he didn’t. This was Fred. If Fred wanted ten secrets, that wasn’t that many really. Harry sat up and criss-crossed his legs beneath him. Fred laid on his side and watched as Harry rolled his sleeves up.

“I don’t like people to see these and I can’t use a glamour to cover them,” Harry’s heart was racing as he flipped his arms over and felt as if he might as well be naked for as bare as he felt right now as Fred looked at the thick white scars on his forearms.

“Can I touch them?”

“Is that question four?”

“It can be,” Fred smiled slightly as he sat up and mimicked Harry’s pose.

“No, they’re disgusting.” Harry pulled his sleeves back down. “Question five?”

“Hmmm...” Fred leaned back on his hands and looked up as he thought. “Why’d you pick Snape as your guardian?”

Harry released his breath at another easy question.

“He was the first person to ever like me. Plus he’s a genius. And he’s always helping me and never asks for anything in return.”

“Plus he lets you do whatever you want,” Fred grinned. “I’m sure that helps.”

“No he doesn’t,” Harry tilted his head at that weird statement. “He’s got rules and stuff.”

“You’re the only person I know whose parent lets them have their boyfriend stay the night.” Fred wiggled his eyebrows around, drawing a laugh from Harry.

“That’s because it’s my house. Same reason Theo got to move in.”

“Your house? Did you buy it? I thought it was Snapes?”

“That’s question six,” Harry said. “And nope. It used to be Snape’s but he gave it to me when he became my guardian.”

“Sneaky,” Fred shook his head but he smiled too so Harry figured he wasn’t mad. “Alright question seven, and don’t laugh, but are you attracted to Krum?”

“Like... what? Like do I think he’s good looking?” Harry asked. “No. He’s not really my type, is he?”

“Only attracted to redheads then?” Fred teased, but Harry thought he looked pleased too.

“I don’t... I don’t know. I- I like your body too,” Harry blushed furiously and if Fred had looked a little pleased before, it was nothing compared to his face now.

“I like your body too,” Fred winked and Harry managed to turn an even darker shade of red.

“Next question?” Harry asked quickly.

“Alright... question eight...” Fred eyed Harry speculatively for a long enough that Harry was beginning to feel uneasy.

“I can guess where the scars on your arms came from. What about the ones on your back?”

Harry froze.

Fuck.

Harry’s hands were frantically scrambling to find something to grip on to. And he probably would have told Fred to fuck off, but Fred shifted around and put both his hands under Harry’s and watched patiently as Harry ran his thumbs over the back of Fred’s hands.

’Freak... Worthless... Ungrateful...’

‘...You have to decided which people you can trust and decide if they are worth sharing secrets with.’

Fred was worth it.

“My... my mums relatives didn’t like me much,” Harry admitted softly as he stared down at their now interlocked hands. “So... so that’s where most of those came from.”

Fred didn’t say anything, which was good really, and Harry kept watching their hands so he missed the flash of rage in Fred’s blue eyes.

“Do you want to be done?” Fred asked evenly. “I’ll still tell you my secret.”

“It’s fine. Two more, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fred gripped Harry’s hands tightly so he looked up at him and was relieved to see that he didn’t look pitying or disgusted or anything.

“Did you kill Avery’s Dad?”

Harry actually let out a soft huff of a laugh at that.

“Yeah,” he said. “He hurt you and tried to kill Snape, didn’t he?”

“My hero,” Fred smiled. “It probably shouldn’t be so hot how vicious you are, but it is.”

“Shut up,” Harry laughed. He didn’t care if Fred thought it was hot. He was just happy it was a question where he didn’t sound pathetic for answering. “Last one prat.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“That’s your last question?” Harry asked. “Not... not anything else?”

“Oh I have a million more questions for you some day,” Fred said easily. “But I figured I’ll wait until you see I’m sticking around and keeping your secrets to myself before I ask them.”

Harry looked away from the deep blue of Fred’s eyes at that. He felt a bit of some of his long held weight fade at the sincerity of Fred’s words. It was stupid to make yourself vulnerable by telling people your secrets, but... but he thought it was maybe worth it just a little if Fred stuck around even knowing stuff about Harry that nobody else does.

“Yeah.”

Fred leaned forward and Harry closed his eyes as he kissed him softly.

“I love you,” Fred breathed against his mouth. “That’s my secret.”

The next morning Harry felt a little shy when he woke up next to Fred. He felt like something shifted between them last night and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet.

“Breakfast or Snape first?” Fred asked cheerfully.

“Snape,” Harry said, checking the time. “He’s still in his office I’m sure. Let’s go now, yeah?”

They walked through the empty corridors towards Snape’s office.

“Enter,” Snape called after Harry briskly knocked.

Harry tucked his hands in his pockets before he went in, ignoring Fred’s curious look as he did it. He didn’t want Snape to see his hands shaking, he’d guess it had something to do with the medicine and Harry wasn’t going to die if he needed a potion after the first task. Especially now that he knew what the task was.

“It’s me,” Harry said once Fred nudged the door open. “Guess what?”

“What?” Snape sighed, probably guessing it was something mad.

Which was fair. Because it was.

“You know the task on the 22nd?”

“Yes?” Snape drawled, fully focused on Harry now.

“It’s dragons,” Harry said.

Harry was pleased that he didn’t even twitch when Snape summoned a pain reliever.

He’d expected that really.

“DRAGONS?!” Susan all but yelled in the library that same day. “You’re facing a fully grown mother fucking dragon in just four days?!”

“Yup,” Harry shrugged.

“We need a plan,” Theo said. “And then a backup plan...”

“And a backup, backup plan,” Mione added.

“Are you allowed to kill it?” Ron asked curiously.

“He can’t kill it!” Draco scowled. “I bet those poor dragons are just miserable being used like this.”

“I agree,” Luna said sympathetically. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”

“It’ll be sadder if Harry burns to a crisp though,” Neville pointed out calmly.

Neville might be the quietest one in the group, but Harry thought Neville was also the calmest in a crisis which really made him invaluable. Because Harry and Susan certainly couldn’t be counted on to keep a cool head most of the time.

“What are you going to do?” Blaise asked him seriously. “Dragons are impervious to most spells.”

“I dunno,” Harry tapped his pinky finger on the table while he thought about it. “Could try killing it I suppose.”

“You are not killing it,” Draco hissed.

“What did Snape say?” Theo asked shrewdly, accurately guessing that Harry already told him.

“He said he’d come up with some ideas before our meeting tomorrow,” Harry said quietly. “So we’ll see.”

“Potter!”

Harry startled and spun around quickly. He cleared any fear off his face and put on his bored mask once he saw who had managed to sneak up on him.

“Professor Moody, what’s up?” he asked evenly.

“Let’s talk for a moment laddie,” Moody growled.

Harry glanced quickly at his friends; Blaise raised a single brow in a silent question, but Harry shook his head slightly.

“Alright then.” Harry grabbed his bag off the table and got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Moody probably wasn’t going to try and kill him if he’d asked to talk to him in front of eight other witnesses. In fact, ever since Moody stuck up for him after his name was drawn Harry was pretty sure the man was reconsidering Harry’s offer to be allies.

He figured he heard him talking about the dragons and was going to ask him how he found out. Harry would lie, of course, but that was probably it.

“Found out about the dragons then?” Moody asked once he’d led Harry to a private corner of the library.

“Might have,” Harry said airily.

Moody chuckled and fixed both his eyes on Harry.

“Got a plan?” he asked.

Harry eyed Moody carefully at that. He didn’t seem mad that Harry already knew about the dragons.

“Maybe,” Harry said evasively. “Dragons are tricky though, aren’t they?”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you how,” said Moody gruffly. “I don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to kill it,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Are Unforgiveables allowed if it’s not used on a human?”

“No Potter,” Moody chuckled lowly. “Other strengths. Think.”

Harry tried to concentrate. What else was he best at? Well, that was easy, really —

“Flying,” he said slowly. “I’m good at magic and flying.”

“That’s right,” said Moody, staring at him very hard, his magical eye barely moving at all. “You’re a damn good flier from what I’ve heard.”

Harry stuck his chin out proudly at that. It was nice that Moody had only been here a couple months and already heard Harry was a good flier.

“Come on, lad...” whispered Moody. “Put them together... it’s not that difficult...”

Harry was good at magic and good at flying.

He didn’t need to get past the dragon- just outfly it.

“What’d Moody want?” Susan asked when Harry rejoined his friends.

“I’m pretty sure he definitely wants to be in the gang,” Harry grinned. “And I know how I’m going to get past the dragon.”

Chapter Text

Black & Lupin,
You WILL be at Hogwarts on the 24th no later than 12:45 to cheer Harry on as he competes in the first task. Nothing apart from actual death should keep you from being here to support him.
Wear green.
-Susan Bones

***

Aunt Amelia,
I think Harry would be really happy if you could get the day off to come watch him compete on the 24th. The task starts at one, so maybe you could be here by 12:45? I’ll be in the stands with my friends if you want to sit with us.
Love, Susan.
Ps: wear green.

***

“Blaise, did your mum write back yet?” Susan asked Blaise quietly after class while Harry was distracted by talking with Professor McGonagall.

“She can’t come,” Blaise frowned. “The Fae are creating a big problem on the counsel and she can’t leave Italy until it’s been figured out.”

“Damn. What about yours Dray?”

“Father said it will blow his cover if he comes and cheers for Harry in front of the other Slytherins,” Draco whispered. “Mother told me to send her a memory afterwards though.”

“That’s a good idea,” Theo said.

“My mums coming,” Ron offered. “She wrote Fred yesterday and said she’d come.”

“Did you tell her to wear green?” Susan asked.

“Uh...” Ron bit his lip and shook his head. “I forgot.”

This is why Susan takes charge in situations like this.

“I’ll have a scarf for her,” she sighed. “You guys had one fucking job.”

The boys scowled at her but they also knew she was stressed and dealing with it by micro-managing the things she could.

She couldn’t keep Harry from facing an actual dragon tomorrow, but she could make sure there were plenty of people cheering him on as he did.

“You have to eat more,” Susan scolded Harry at the school wide early lunch the next day. “I’m not kidding Harry, eat.”

“I can’t,” Harry was bouncing his right leg quickly as he stared around the noisy Hall. “I’m too excited.”

“Are you sick?” Susan whispered directly in his ear. Harry didn’t like for anyone to know when he was sick, but she needed to know. He couldn’t face a dragon if he was going to be shaking and puking.

“No Sue,” Harry laughed. “I feel great.”

“Not scared?” Hermione asked softly as she clutched Theo’s hand tightly.

“Hell no,” Harry laughed. “This is going to be brill, isn’t it? An actual dragon. Jesus.”

Susan did not think it was going to be brill. Susan was so terrified for her best friend that she could hardly eat either. She knew Harry had a plan, a damn good one too, but she still felt her stomach clenching when she pictured him standing in front of a dragon.

“Try and eat more,” she said tightly. “Please.”

Harry grinned at her and obediently popped a bite of carrots in his mouth.

Susan watched him chew for a moment before abruptly grabbing his hand and clutching it tightly.

“I love you stupid,” she said in a choked voice.

“Hey- no declarations of love to my boyfriend. He’s not dying!” Fred said with a bright smile. “He’s going to go slay a dragon and get first place, right Darlin?”

Fred could say what he wanted, but Susan saw him.

She saw how he’s been on edge with Harry ever since the day they found out about the dragons. And how he keeps touching Harry as much as he could, as gently as he could. As if he was trying to give Harry a lifetimes worth of sweet touches. She noticed Fred was currently pale faced and only half heartedly making jokes. She saw his eyes now, dimmed from their usual mischievous twinkle and tight with fear.

So Fred could say whatever he wanted about her behavior, but she saw him.

“Right,” Harry nodded quickly. Too quickly. He was on an edge Susan didn’t recognize and she didn’t like it. Today was not the day for weird moods and edges. Today was the day for sticking to plans and (she surprised herself just thinking it) being cautious. And whatever edge Harry was hanging on did not seem like a cautious one.

“Harry, you remember the plan, right?” she asked.

“He’s not likely to forget,” Neville chuckled. “You’ve made him repeat it every day since we came up with it.”

“Once more, please.”

Harry turned and smiled at her. Susan felt her heart constrict in the way that only Harry’s smiles can do. He was the closest thing to a brother she’d ever have. He was her best friend. Her soul mate in all the ways that counted.

And he was facing a dragon today.

Alone.

“I’m going to summon my broom, distract the dragon, and then dive and grab the egg,” he recited. “It’ll be so easy Sue. Really it might not even be fun.”

None of their friends laughed at that.

They all cared about Harry in their own ways. Ron, Neville, and Draco looked up to him as a leader and a friend. Susan, Luna, and Fred loved him deeply in different ways. Theo and Blaise were as fiercely loyal to their ally as Susan herself was. And Hermione cared about Harry in the way an older sister might fret after a younger sibling, bossily but with good intentions.

And Harry had no idea about any of it because he was stupid.

“I lied,” Susan said, still clutching Harry’s hand. “One more time, please?”

Harry laughed and obliged her twice more before it was time to head to the pitch.

“Wish me luck,” he grinned.

Susan patiently waited until their friends wished Harry luck, Luna hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, Fred kissed him dramatically to catcalls from the other students in the Hall, and Susan just held him tightly for a long moment.

“Don’t die stupid,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

It didn’t matter if Harry couldn’t or wouldn’t say it back. Nobody ever told him they loved him until last year, she’d say it twice a day and love him three times as hard to make up for it if she had to.

“Ta Sue,” Harry smiled. “I’m not going to die. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Quit chewing your nails,” Luna whispered from one side of Susan in the stands set up for the spectators. “Harry’s going to live. The nargles are very confident.”

“You swear?” Susan asked, only a slight tremble to her voice.

“I swear,” Luna said solemnly. She grabbed Susan’s left hand and clutched it tightly.

“Harry’s a genius, and he’s the best flier I’ve ever seen, he’ll be fine,” Fred said from the other side of Susan. Susan detected the same tremble in his voice that she herself had so she reached out with her right hand and held his left tightly.

Fred was a pain in her ass, but he was one of Harry’s and he needed someone to hold his hand- so she’d do it.

For Harry.

The three of them sat linked together with their hands and their worries as Fleur Delacour stepped out in the arena.

“Oh my God,” Susan moaned when after a few minutes Fleur’s skirt caught fire. “He’s just so small... and flammable.”

Fred nodded miserably in agreement.

They waited patiently until Fleur was awarded points. When Bagman put up a shining six, Auntie Amelia hissed from behind her.

“Merlin,” she murmured. “Who cut his face open? What kind of curse leaves a scar like that?”

Susan squeezed Fred’s hand and they shared a sly smile. They both knew who cut his face open and what curse leaves that kind of scar. The fact that Bagman was able to judge Fleur right now must mean that he’d given Harry the 600 Galleons as a first payment for what he owes the Twins.

“Thirty seven points for Miss Fleur Delacour!” Bagman announced across the field. “Next we have Cedric Diggory from HOGWARTS!”

The Hogwarts students, apart from the Slytherin’s and Harry’s personal cheering section, went wild. Susan didn’t care if she wasn’t being loyal to a fellow Hufflepuff, as it had been pointed out to her many times in the last three weeks, Harry was her best friend. He got her loyalty first.

“Fuck, that was a good try,” Black said in the row behind them as Diggory transformed a nearby boulder in to a dog.

“Susan, he’s going to be fine, right?” Draco asked tightly from his seat. Susan looked down at him and tried to smile reassuringly, but the best she could do was a grimace.

“If not then I’m going to kill Dumbledore and Snape both,” she said.

“Why Snape?” Blaise asked, his golden eyes sharp as he watched Diggory snag a golden egg from beneath the dragon.

“For not being stricter with Harry,” Susan said. Her aunt and Black laughed behind her, but she wasn’t joking.

If Harry didn’t walk away from this tournament she’d burn the whole damn castle down to compensate for it.

It wouldn’t be enough.

But it would be a start.

“Mister Diggory beat Miss Delacours score with a respectable thirty eight!” Bagman cried over the Hogwarts students’ cheers as Diggory left the field. “Next up- from Durmstrang, VIKTOR KRUM!”

Some of the kids in their section clapped politely for Viktor, but Susan and Fred sat in stony silence as the dragons were changed out and a new golden egg was added.

“Best for last then,” Ron said with a flat attempt at cracking a joke.

“He’s going to be fine,” Luna said as she rubbed circles on the back of Susan’s hand. “Harry’s brilliant.”

“I know.” Susan did know Harry was brilliant. But he was also impulsive, overly confident, and stupid.

So of course she was worried.

“He’s trying to put it to sleep,” Theo murmured. “It’s smart to aim for the eyes.”

“ITS CRUSHING THE EGGS!” Draco howled as the dark green dragon began sleepily stomping on its eggs. “BOOO! YOU SUCK!”

“Shut up,” Susan snapped at him. “Nobody cares about a couple fucking dragon eggs.”

“Susan Bones! Watch your language!” her aunt said behind her.

“And people do care about dragon eggs,” Draco sneered. “They didn’t ask to be here.”

Susan bared her teeth at him and let Fred clutch her hand nearly to the breaking point as Krum’s score was announced.

... and then they brought out Harry’s dragon.

“It’s a Hungarian Horntail,” Draco whispered, his previous anger gone as they all froze at the sight of the largest, and most vicious, dragon to be presented so far. “It’s... Merlin... it’s the worst one.”

Of course it was.

Because everything was always trying to kill Harry.

“Viktor Krum from Durmstrang takes the lead with 40 points!” Bagman yelled. “And last but not least, we have our fourth champion, hailing here from Hogwarts it’s- HARRY POTTER!”

Susan jumped to her feet and screamed wildly, channeling all her stress and her fear in to the loudest show of support she could manage. She was pleased that every person in their section did the same, even all the usually reserved Slytherin’s.

“Has he always been so small?” Fred whined beside her.

Harry did look very small. He walked confidently in the arena, his head held high. He looked amazing in the green robes with his last name emblazoned across the back.

He looked arrogant, powerful, and self assured with his hands casually stuck in his pockets.

But across from a fifty foot tall, jet black, fully grown nesting dragon? He also looked terribly, terribly, small.

“I can’t watch,” Hermione moaned.

Susan could. She wasn’t even going to fucking blink.

Harry looked around the stadium a few times, and Susan could practically sense the smug aura surrounding him as he stuck his hand out. Not a single person in the stadium even breathed as Harry summoned his-

“That is not his Firebolt,” Susan hissed, furious as a fucking sword came whizzing through the air and smacking in Harry’s hand. The rest of the audience cheered at the blatant display of silent and wandless magic. But Susan was going to kill him.

“I told him to stick to the plan.”

“Harry never sticks to the plan,” Blaise said tightly as Neville whimpered.

“We could kill him together?” Fred offered quietly beside her.

“Piss off,” she whispered. Even if she was going to kill Harry, she would never betray him by conspiring against him with anyone else.

Harry brandished the sword high and began walking up to the dragon.

Walking.

Up.

To.

The.

Dragon.

“His confidence is going to get him killed,” Sirius said in a hoarse tone.

“Or get him through this,” Lupin reassured him.

Susan was leaning towards Sirius’ evaluation personally. Especially as the dragon spit a ten foot round fireball directly at Harry.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?” Bagman cried as Harry used his free hand to throw up a shield that blocked the fireball.

Then Harry began fighting the dragon the same way she imagined he had fought the basilisk.

It was amazing.

But also terrifying.

Harry was ducking fireballs and throwing up shields as he steadily moved closer to the dragon. He was making good time, at this rate he’d be the quickest one yet.

“HARRY!” Fred jumped to his feet and screamed as the dragon spit a fireball at Harry at the same time as it swiped its enormous tail and caught Harry in the chest, slinging him backwards in to a boulder. Susan couldn’t be sure, but the way Harry was now holding the sword limply made her think his shoulder had been hurt pretty badly.

“I’m going to be sick,” Luna whispered in a trembling voice. “Susan. This is horrible.”

“I can’t help you right this second Lue,” Susan whispered. “I have to focus.”

She did wrap her left arm around Luna and let her cuddle tightly in to her side. That was the most she could do for the scared girl right now- she had to keep her focus on Harry.

Harry got up to a great cheer and fucking smiled as he watched the dragon calmly for a second.

Susan had a horrible feeling he was about to do something impulsive and stupid.

And he did.

Harry charged forward and rolled twice to avoid incoming fireballs and another slash of the dragons tail as he got right up by the dragons feet.

The dragon let out a mighty roar as Harry drove his sword clear through its ankle.

“What kind of bloody sword is that?” Black gasped as they all cheered.

“Goblin made, imbued with Basilisk venom,” Draco yelled over the sound of Harry’s friends going crazy as Harry snagged the golden egg with his good arm and ran to the edge of the pitch.

“HARRY POTTER IS THE QUICKEST TO GET HIS EGG!” Bagman cheered. “THIS WILL CERTAINLY- Great Merlin, what is he doing?”

Harry was running straight back to the dragon.

Probably for his stupid sword.

“LEAVE IT YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Susan screamed over the railing once she realized what Harry was doing.

Her aunt was shaking with fear and nerves behind her and it was a mark of how outrageously stupid she also thought Harry was being that she didn’t even scold Susan for her language.

“I’m in love with a moron,” Fred groaned. Susan quirked one of her brows up at that. She assumed Fred loved Harry, but she hadn’t heard him admit it before now.

“YOU MORON!” Susan and Fred both yelled when Harry rolled to the side, barely avoiding a fireball, and pulled his sword back out from the dragons leg. Harry began lightly jogging to the edge of the field when he was hit full on in the back by a fireball.

“HARRY!”

Harry, her Harry, who had never turned his back on an enemy in his life, exposed his back to lightly jog away from the dragon and got hit.

Susan knew he was in a weird mood today. She knew it. She should have told Snape or someone so they could fix it before the task. Because the Harry she knows and loves would never had made such a terribly arrogant mistake like that.

And now he was hit by a ten foot round fireball right in the back.

She knew she should have gotten Snape.

Let him be fine and I will never make this mistake again, she prayed.

Susan, Luna, and Fred began running, pushing, shoving, and tripping over the screaming crowds of students as Harry landed face down on the field and the team of dragon tamers rushed the pitch.

“MOVE!!” Fred shoved a group of kids out of their way and grabbed Susan’s hand tightly as they sprinted down the stairs.

Susan jumped to try and see over everyone’s heads and barely glimpsed a tall figure in black levitating Harry to a blue tent on the far side of the pitch.

“Snape has him,” Susan said, even as she sped up her run, pulling Luna along behind her. “Blue tent- must be medical.”

“He can’t have potions,” Fred stopped and clutched his head.

“MOVE YOUR LONG FRECKLED FUCKING LEGS FRED WEASLEY!” Susan screamed when Fred stopped and looked like he might decide this was the best time to have a meltdown. She wouldn’t leave him behind, Harry would be furious. But she’d drag him to that tent if she had to. “NOW!”

Fred obeyed and began sprinting around the edge of the arena now as they neared the tent.

Susan pulled ahead and yanked back the blue flap, her head swiveling around as she looked for Harry.

“Where’s Harry?” Black screeched as he ran in the tent behind Fred and Luna.

“Here.”

Susan followed Snape’s voice to a section of the tent with privacy screens up. She ducked around the screens and skidded to a halt at the sight of her best friend.

“Fuck.”

Harry was clearly (hopefully) unconscious, flat on his stomach, and his entire backside was burnt to a bloody crisp.

Susan gasped and took a step closer to the bed before Snape’s arm stopped her.

“Don’t touch him,” he said softly. “Let Madame Pomfrey work.”

“But...”

Susan’s Aunt came in the room behind her and gently pulled Susan backwards, wrapping her arms firmly around her from behind.

“He’ll be okay honey. Just hold on. Let Poppy work.”

Susan barely noticed the tears trailing down her cheeks as she stood with her aunt, Fred, Professor Snape, Luna, and Black- holding a silent vigil for her injured best friend while Madame Pomfrey worked like mad.

“He’s going to be fine,” Pomfrey eventually called to them while she eyed his burnt back speculatively. “Severus- can I apply burn ointment to his back?”

“Yes, topical is fine, digested is not,” Snape said, apparently talking about Harry’s peculiar potions allergy that Susan knew for a fact he didn’t have in second year.

She knew Harry was lying about it. But she was just waiting for him to tell her why. She figured he would eventually, she just needed to be patient and let him do it on his own time.

“Done,” Madame Pomfrey sighed in relief. “I don’t know what to do for his shoulder though. It’s completely shattered. It needs vanished and regrown.”

Snape blanched and shook his head quickly.

“It’s not worth the risk,” he said curtly. “We’ll just have to let it heal on its own.”

“Severus, he’s going to be miserable,” Madame Pomfrey said as she twisted her hands together. “I can’t imagine how much pain he’s going to be in when I wake him.”

“What would you have me do? Hmm? Hope it’s only another seizure and coma this time?? He could die,” Snape snarled.

Susan barely restrained from hissing at Madame Pomfrey as well.

“Find another way,” she said. “You’re a bloody witch.”

“Susan,” her aunt jerked on her sharply. “Apologize.”

“Sorry,” Susan bit out with a cold glare that her aunt couldn’t see. “Will someone wake him now?!”

Harry’s back was healing up, skin knitting itself together and regrowing right before their very eyes, but Susan wouldn’t breath properly until she saw his eyes and heard his voice for herself.

Merlin she was sick of Harry being injured and unconscious.

“Brace yourself, he’s going to be in a lot of pain,” Pomfrey said as she frowned and tapped Harry’s head with her wand. ”Rennervate.”

”Fuuuuuck me,” Harry groaned and shifted on the bed before going completely still after twitching his left shoulder.

“Do not move your shoulder you irredeemable moron,” Snape said, with no real heat to his words. “Your left shoulder is shattered.”

“You’re lucky to be alive you stupid idiot!” Susan yelled as Harry ignored Snape’s words and flipped on to his back. His face was entirely pale beneath his scars, and eerily blank.

Harry ignored Susan’s anger and looked up at Snape. They seemed to somehow communicate silently for a moment. Susan saw Snape’s face go soft as he slowly reached out for Harry’s good shoulder.

“I know, it hurts. You cannot have a potion. I will find a way to fix this. But it will likely take some time, time that I’m afraid will not pass you quickly. I am unsure how to heal this without a potion. It is not broken, it is shattered.”

Harry bit down hard on his lower lip as Susan realized that Harry’s blank face was just another one of his many masks to hide his pain.

“Sue- get them out,” he said, his voice hoarse from the pain Pomfrey swore he’d be in.

Susan thought it said a lot about Harry’s pain tolerance that he wasn’t just shrieking right now.

Which of course made her want to find every single person who’d caused Harry’s high pain tolerance and torture them to death.

Instead she turned to Black, Luna, Fred, and her aunt and pointed towards the entrance.

“Out,” she barked. “Now.”

“Fred stays,” Harry said, causing Fred to smile sadly at his boyfriend. Or love of his life, apparently.

Supposedly.

Susan didn’t trust him.

Not with Harry.

Luna ignored her command and danced over to Harry and lightly squeezed his hand.

“Don’t ever do that again please,” she said softly. Susan felt terrible when she realized Luna’s eyes were puffy and red. Luna surely understood why she couldn’t comfort her during the task though, if anyone understood that she had to focus on Harry- it was Luna.

Harry nodded shortly and his foot twitched at the motion.

“I’ll wait outside for you so we can go with you to get your scores Pup,” Black said, offering Harry his own small smile. “You were every bit an impulsive Gryffindor out there.”

“Insult to injury,” Snape sneered as Susan’s Aunt led the others out of the tent.

Harry took a deep breath, his foot twitching at the motion again, before he looked up at Snape and offered up an odd little half smile, half grimace.

“I can take a potion,” he rasped out. “Please Snape. It fuckin’ hurts.”

It must hurt if Harry was admitting to it in front of Snape, Madame Pomfrey, Fred, and Susan.

It had to hurt like Hell.

“You could die,” Snape said, kneeling beside Harry’s bed and keeping his hand on Harry’s good shoulder. “It is not worth the risk.”

“I won’t.”

“It is not a risk I am willing to take,” Snape said. Susan thought Snape had never looked so visibly upset before. She figured it must be killing him to deny Harry relief from the pain.

“I quit taking them.”

Snape blinked at Harry as the concern on his face quickly transformed to something more angry. Fred glanced at Susan, who frowned at Harry. What were they talking about?

“You did what?” Snape hissed. “Why? When?!”

“Day after Halloween,” Harry said with a couple flicks of his eyes towards the door. Susan knew he was looking for a quick escape route in case Snape tried to hurt him. Which was silly.

Because Susan would kill him if he even dared.

“Don’t make me beg,” Harry said when Snape just stared at him in some sort of furious shock. “C’mon.”

Snape flicked his wand sharply, Harry twitched and hissed, and Susan stepped forward to grab his hand.

“You have not taken a single one since dinner on Halloween night?” Snape asked once the potions he summoned flew to his hand.

“None.”

“Drink this. Get your scores. Then we are having a conversation,” Snape said.

Susan had no idea what they were talking about, but Snape was clearly furious.

Which was fine, to an extent, because as soon as Harry wasn’t in pain she’d be telling him how furious she was as well.

Harry quickly downed the two potions and his shoulders sagged with relief as the pain reliever coursed through his apparently not allergic system.

“Did I win?” he asked Susan, looking up at her and smiling brightly.

“Did you... did you win? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!” she yelled. “WHY WOULD YOU GO BACK FOR YOUR SWORD?!”

“Because I needed it, it’s mine,” Harry said. “Also my shoulder still feels weird,” he added to Snape who was glaring at him and grinding his teeth.

“Because it is shattered and needs vanished and regrown,” Snape said. “Go. Get your scores. Then come back and we will do it you maniac.”

Harry narrowed his own eyes at Snape at that odd insult.

“I am not manic,” he sneered.

Susan had no idea what that meant, but she’d bet that Theo or Hermione did.

She’d never ask Hermione. Hermione was a know it all who would spend hours explaining what was surely a simple concept. But she would ask Theo next chance she got.

“You did look a bit like a maniac running back to the dragon Darlin’,” Fred said. “You know you only had to get past it once, right?”

“Well let’s go see if it paid off then,” Harry grinned and got up slowly from the bed.

“Why didn’t you fly?” Susan asked him as she held his hand and Fred wrapped his arm around him. “That was the plan.”

“The plan was boring,” Harry laughed.

Laughed.

“I hate you,” she sighed as they walked out and joined their waiting friends and relatives.

“You love me,” Harry whispered to her with a wink.

She did.

But sometimes, times like when Harry chooses the riskiest plan available to face a dragon on the basis that the better plan was ‘boring’, she also hated him a bit. She would feel badly about that. Except Ron says that’s how he always feels about his siblings.

“Bagman wants you in the arena, you have to get your scores,” Neville told him immediately. “Then there’s a meeting in the Champions Tent. We can meet you in the common room afterwards?”

“Perfect, see you guys there,” Harry smiled. He nodded at Black, Lupin, and Aunt Amelia before holding Susan and Fred’s hands tightly and moving to the center of the arena.

“My sword!” he said happily once he spotted his stupid fucking sword laying on the ground next to his golden egg. “Thank God.”

Fred and Susan shared a rare moment of solidarity when they looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Harry was a moron.

“It’s marks out of ten,” Susan whispered to Harry as he grabbed the egg and sword. Fred grabbed the egg from him, making sure he wasn’t carrying anything with his still shattered shoulder blade, and winked at Harry.

“The judges have voted and decided that Mister Potter’s scores will be determined based on his performance up to when he moved his egg to safety,” Bagman called, his voice amplified with magic. ”Most of the judges,” he shoot a dirty look at Karkaroff, “believe that the task ended at that moment. We will now vote.”

The three of them shared a small smirk at that. It wasn’t a secret to them why Bagman was kissing Harry’s arse.

Bagman sat down and immediately shot up a large yellow ten in the air.

Then Dumbledore, who surprisingly gave Harry a nine and a cheerful wink.

God Susan hated him. How dare he pretend to be Harry’s pal after everything he’d caused? Everything he’d done?

Madame Maxine came next and she also shot up a silver nine.

Then Karkaroff who sent up a...

“Three? YOU DICK! HARRY DID A HUNDRED TIMES BETTER THAN KRUM!” Susan’s shouts were drowned out to all but Fred and Harry over the loud boo’s of the watching students. Everyone seemed to think Harry deserved a higher score from the biased Headmaster. After all, Harry was the quickest one to get his egg. The youngest one. The bravest one who charged straight at the dragon. He was the least injured if they only counted the broken shoulder.

He was also the stupidest one. But that wasn’t a judging criteria.

“WITH FORTY ONE POINTS OUR YOUNGEST CHAMPION HAS TAKEN THE LEAD!” Bagman roared to great cheers after Crouch put up a red ten for Harry.

“I WON!” Harry jumped around happily and even willingly hugged Susan and Fred both. “I’m in first!”

“You are! You’re in first!” Susan cheered, her joy at Harry actually surviving the task momentarily overtaking her anger at his stupid decision.

“I knew it would work!” Harry cried. His eyes were blazing with victory. “I have to go to the champions tent, then I’m gonna sneak off to the common room before Snape can yell at me. You guys coming?”

“I’ll meet you in the common room, I need to make sure someone got it set up right,” Fred said. “Congrats Darlin’, you were amazing. Stupid as Hell, but amazing.”

Susan politely turned her head as they kissed.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, linking his arm with hers and offering her his sword while he took his egg from Fred. “Did I do the best?” he asked eagerly. “Okay listen here’s what I was thinking...”

Susan listened patiently as Harry rambled on... and on... and on.

She couldn’t even hardly understand him.

She did understand that he thought he’d try out fire proof shields. As in, he’d never tried it before. As in, he was a compete and utter idiot.

“Okay- I’ll be back,” Harry said with a deep breath, ducking in to the champions tent.

Susan tapped her foot impatiently as she watched students walk past, heading back towards the castle and chatting happily about the task they’d just watched.

Must be nice not to have your best friend entered in a death trap of a tournament.

“Next up, February twenty-fourth, the clue for the second task is in the egg, let’s go celebrate!” Harry cried once he re-emerged from the tent.

“Why don’t we go get your shoulder fixed first?” she suggested. “Then we can go celebrate.”

“Nope,” Harry popped his mouth loudly on the ‘p’ sound and then laughed, his excitement at winning apparently making him excited in general. “If I go now Snape’s just going to yell at me. It doesn’t hurt now, just feels weird, so I’ll get it fixed tomorrow, yeah?”

Susan sighed but knew there was no point in arguing with him when he was in this mood. This was ‘I can transform in to an owl no matter what you say’ all over again.

“Alright,” she conceded. “But you’re going first thing in the morning.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry smiled. “Lead the way!”

When they entered the Slytherin common room it exploded with cheers and yells. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Fred had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and someone had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry stabbing a dragon with a sword, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Susan and Harry grabbed a couple drinks, Susan grabbed a little cake, though of course Harry ‘wasn’t hungry’ again. Susan watched and listened with exasperation as Harry described fighting the dragon to the annoying students who kept asking him.

“It would have been safer to use your broom,” Blaise said.

“Safer just means more boring,” Harry yawned, causing many of the younger students crowding him to laugh.

“Hey Harry! Can we open this?” Ron asked as he picked up Harry’s golden egg.

Harry looked around the common room for a moment then shook his head.

“We’ll do it tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t wanna worry about it tonight.”

“Let’s dance then!” Fred cried, flicking his wand and blasting music. Most of the students all immediately began jumping around to the blaring pop music eagerly. Susan was surprised to see Harry dancing closely with Fred. Though she was really happy to see that he wasn’t nearly as twitchy about touches as he was in their first year.

After dancing herself nearly to dehydration, Susan took a break to snag a quick drink. She spotted Theo over by the wall, smiling at Hermione who was dancing with Daphne Greengrass and Luna, and remembered the question she had for him.

“Hey Theo, c’mere.” Susan yanked on Theo’s arm and pulled him off to the side quickly. “I have a question for you. What’s it mean if someone is or isn’t manic?”

Theo, genius that he is, quickly glanced towards where Harry was happily jumping around and dancing with the rest of their friends before frowning.

“Who told you?” he asked.

Susan blinked at him and attempted a casual tone, which was hard seeing as she had no idea what he meant.

“Who told you?” she asked instead.

“Nobody told me, I’m not blind,” Theo rolled his eyes. “Ever since I read about it, I knew Harry had it. Especially when he started acting extra weird last year. Not sleeping for days and days and doing crazy stuff like trying to swim in the Black Lake alone in the middle of the night? And those weeks before Christmas when we couldn’t get him out of bed? And look at him now-“ Theo nodded his head to Susan’s smiling and excited best friend. “I didn’t need anyone to tell me.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Susan asked him. She had no idea what all Harry’s problems had to do with how he was acting now.

Theo blinked at her and pulled her another step further from the crowd.

“Manic-Depressive Illness,” he said. “Harry’s got it. I’m sure of it.”

Susan turned her head and watched Harry for a long moment. She took in his lit up eyes, the energetic way he was half dancing and half jumping around, and the way that even though she couldn’t hear him, she was sure he was talking to Fred at the speed of light.

“You read about it in a book?”

“Yeah, a muggle psychology textbook.”

Susan kept watching Theo as she nodded curtly.

“Can you loan me the book?”

Chapter Text

Severus paced the length of the medical tent once...

Twice...

Five times...

Nine times...

“Severus, what are you still doing here?”

Poppy interrupted his pacing with arms full of empty potions vials and a bemused look on her face.

“I am waiting for Potter,” he said curtly.

“Severus,” Poppy shook her head at him in an almost pitying way. “Everyone’s returned to the castle.”

Severus did nothing so plebeian as gape at her, but he did blink a couple of times before stalking to the entrance and confirming that the grounds were indeed nearly empty now.

”Son of a bitch,” he snarled.

Severus started quickly making his way towards the castle, not even calling out a farewell to Poppy in his anger.

Potter was single-handedly determined to ruin his own life. And Severus would hardly stand by idly and allow it to happen.

No matter how much talent Potter clearly has for it.

He shook his head at himself as he walked. He should have known Potter quit taking his medication. He should have known. He had seen the signs and brushed them off. Medication was hardly foolproof after all, some manic behavior was still to be expected.

But today? Potter rushing towards a dragon wielding a sword?

That was perhaps the most impulsive act of ’I believe I am invincible’ that Severus had ever witnessed in his life.

And he should have known.

Potter was clever- he would give him that. Severus had naively believed that his declining health in recent weeks was a side effect of the upcoming tournament task. Potter must have realized there was a charm on the bottle to alert Severus when a pill was removed, because his wand had heated up at breakfast and dinner faithfully every day. There was no way to charm the medication itself to alert him if Potter had taken it. Either the effects of the medication would cease, or the charm would, if he mixed the two together. He would have to find a way to ensure that Potter was actually consuming the medication from here on out.

Severus hesitated outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room. His blood was still boiling with fury at the brash child for quitting his medication in the most damaging way possible. Truth be told, he was just as furious with himself for not knowing about it.

He was also undoubtedly concerned about his foolish ward. But anger had always been easier to express.

In the morning then.

Severus would give Potter tonight to celebrate his outrageous win in the task, and in the morning, when his pain reliever wore off and his shoulder became intolerable, they would discuss the medication.

And in the meantime, Severus would calm himself and hopefully avoid another row with his ward.

It would be a disservice to them both to attempt a civil conversation in this state. Tomorrow he would deal with his ward.

His manic, foolish, brash, imbecilic ward.

***

“Sir?”

“Harry, come in.”

Severus had risen early, knowing Potter’s shoulder would begin causing him around 5 o’clock. Who would know better the longevity of a pain relieving potion more than Severus? It was a mark of Potter’s threshold for pain that he abstained from coming to him until nearly seven.

“Hi,” Potter said. His voice sounded like gravel, likely from the pain. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes rimmed with red, likely from an abundance of celebrating last night.

“Can I help you?” Severus asked coolly. He knew what Potter wanted, but damn if he was going to make it easy on the child.

“I thought... maybe... you’d tell me how to fix my shoulder?” Potter grimaced when he gestured to the injured shoulder. Severus snorted at his wording. Trust Potter to attempt to find a way to ask for help, without asking for help.

“Sit,” he sighed. “Although you are approximately fourteen hours later than we agreed upon.”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Potter lied baldly as he took his seat and pulled his arm out of his shirt sleeve.

Severus would have called him out on his lie, but he had a sudden memory of the first time he did a medical exam on Potter and was instead struck with a soft feeling of victory that Potter had just willingly exposed part of his body to him. Potter may always have been an absolutely devastating hurricane of chaos and poor decisions, but he had grown and changed in many ways.

“I will have to vanish the broken bone and administer Skele-Grow to replace it,” he told Potter as he examined the bruised and swollen joint. “Acceptable?”

“Acceptable,” Potter mimicked him. “How long will it take to regrow?”

“Four hours. Plenty of time for you to inform me of your decision making process starting from the first of November,” Severus said tersely. “Hold still now. Evanesco!”

Severus tapped Potter’s shoulder and watched as the skin around the joint caved in with no structure holding it in place now.

“Drink this,” he handed Potter the Skele-Grow. “I am going to wrap your arm in a sling until the missing bone is regrown.”

“Disgusting,” Potter chuckled after he swallowed the drink. “God this feels weird!”

Severus ignored Potter’s mania driven chatter as he carefully wrapped the child’s arm in to a sling and secured it across his body. He then moved to his chair and surveyed Potter carefully.

“I would like for you to tell me precisely why you chose to quit taking your medication, and why you chose to not inform me of this decision.”

Potter shifted around in his chair and gnawed on his lip for a moment.

“Breakfast first?” he asked with a crooked smile.

Severus knew he was stalling, and would likely move on to diversionary tactics next, but Potter could hardly stand to miss a meal either.

“Breakfast first,” he agreed.

After they finished eating, and Potter quit pushing eggs around his plate, Severus cleared his throat and gave Potter a pointed look.

“Okay, so... you know how you always think I don’t have any sense of self preservation?”

“Correct,” Severus said once it was clear Potter was waiting on a response.

“You got me thinking on Halloween how if I got hurt and couldn’t take a potion then I could die. But I don’t want to die, so it’s self preservation, yeah?”

Severus steepled his hands and watched Potter for a long moment, silently thinking of this thought process that he unwillingly aided.

“I believe you misunderstood me,” he said slowly. “I did not wish for you to end your medication, rather I had hoped it would cause you to think before entering situations where you could be injured to the point of requiring a potion.”

“But that’s not what you said. You said if I was hurt you wouldn’t be able to give me a potion and I could die, but now I won’t because I quit taking them.”

Do not scream, do not scream, do not scream, he chanted silently. Screaming at the child would only end the conversation and leave them both irate and unsatisfied.

“Harry, do you not believe that your mental health has led you to make impulsive life-threatening decisions in the past?” he asked bluntly. “Because I seem to recall many instances where it has.”

“Maybe,” Potter grinned with a small shrug. “But I figure the tasks are actually supposed to hurt me, so it’s better to be ready for them, yeah?”

“No. You will need to resume your medication,” Severus said sternly.

“I will.”

Oh thank God. Severus was sure it would be a fight to get Potter back on his medicine, especially in the middle of a manic upswing.

“After the third task.”

There it is.

Do not scream.

“Or tonight,” Severus countered with. “I would prefer you back on your medication tonight.”

“And I would prefer not dying because I needed a potion to survive,” Potter grinned. “Sooo, bit of an empath here.”

Severus squinted at Potter, attempting to decipher that absurd statement.

“Impasse Harry,” he sighed. “Not empath.”

Sometimes Severus forgets that this young prodigy with unheard of control over his magic had only a third year primary formal education. Then Potter says something ridiculous and Severus is struck with renewed pity for his ward.

Pity that he could not allow to overtake him if he wished to get the child back on his medication.

“Are you not terribly ill?” he asked.

“Not anymore. I was for a couple weeks, thought I might die. I guess it was withdrawals,” Potter said as he tapped his leg with his free hand. “I feel better now. Great actually. More like myself, you know?”

Sensing that line would get him nowhere, Severus switched tactics.

“And how will you feel when you begin behaving as erratically as Black?”

Potter’s hand stalled for a moment, the rhythmic pattern he was tapping broken, before it resumed.

“Which is worse, acting crazy for a couple of weeks every now and again or dying? Because personally I think it’s dying.”

Of course the child chooses the worst possible to gain a will to live.

“You do realize that your manic cycle led you to near death yesterday, yes?”

“Nooo,” Harry said slowly. “I think that was the dragon, wasn’t it?”

Severus took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind before he spoke next.

“Harry, why did you change your plan?”

Potter shrugged and Severus gave him a minute to organize his thoughts. Potter always responded to direct questions, he occasionally just needed time to sort his thoughts.

“Because I didn’t want to win by cheating, and I thought flying would be boring. So when I was walking out there-“

“Pause.” Severus held up one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. “When did you decide that attacking a dragon with a sword would be a more worthwhile tactic than flying would be?

“When I was walking out there,” Potter said. “So I was walking out and I remembered this book I read in a library once, I couldn’t understand some of the words at the time cause I wasn’t a good reader then, but Snape- it had photos. Wicked photos of a knight slaying a dragon with a long sharp sword. And so I saw the dragon and I thought of that book and I was like, ‘yeah, okay cool, I already have a sword’.”

“You...” Severus was caught in a state that only Potter seemed able to cause him- complete shock.

“You chose an entirely new tactic, as you walked in to the arena, based on a children’s storybook?!”

“Yup.”

It was moments like these that Severus would give anything to resurrect James or Lily Potter.

Anything.

Surely they would have a better understanding of how to handle this than Severus did.

“That is the single most idiotic statement that has ever come from your mouth,” Severus told him bluntly. “You would have avoided injury had you been on your Firebolt and not impulsively and manically changed your approach last minute.”

“You can’t say that for sure,” Potter said thoughtfully. “Could have been worse- I could have been hit by a fireball and fell from my broom, yeah?”

Touché.

“That is one possibility. Another is that you could have emerged injury free and with an even high score,” Severus said, attempting a new approach.

“Pft, I didn’t need a higher score, I won,” Potter scoffed with a smile on his face.

Reminders of Black did not work. Appeals to his health did not work. Attempts to stroke his ego failed.

There were really only so many tactics he could choose here.

“You do not worry that I will have you committed to St Mungo’s mental care ward to force you to take your medication?” Severus asked as lightly as he could.

“Nope,” Potter shrugged. “If I’m not here for the tasks then the contract takes my magic, yeah? So I figure that’s not a real option here.”

Another failed tactic.

“What can I offer you for you to take your medication tonight?” Severus slumped in his chair. “Name me your price.”

“Nothing,” Potter said. “I’m going to take it again as soon as the third task it over.”

“And if you become depressed to the point of suicide again?” Severus asked.

“Then I’ll come tell you,” Potter grinned. “But I don’t think I will. Clearly I don’t want to die, yeah?”

“You do not currently wish to die, though depression will likely wreck more havoc in your life than simply making you believe you want to die,” Severus said, his throat tight at the mere thought. “Harry I do not want to fight with you, I simply want you to go back on your medication. We can find an alternative to any potion you may require, I will not let you die.”

“I would... rather not,” Potter said hesitantly. “I think it’s better if I just wait until after the third task. I was really, really, sick for a while when I quit taking it. But I sucked it up cause I knew it was for a good reason. Sooo, so I think I should just suck it up and deal with the ‘episodes’ until after the task. But then I promise I’ll take it again.”

Do not scream.

“Why did you not tell me you were ill? Have I not proven myself worthy of your trust?”

Potter blushed and looked down at his knees as he scratched at the back of his neck.

“I figured you’d want me to take the pills, so I didn’t want to tell you,” he said quietly. “I do trust you, I swear. I’ve been thinking about all the stuff you told me and trying to do it.”

Potter’s diversionary tactics are up now apparently.

“Oh?” Severus raised an interested brow despite himself. He would indulge Potter, then return to the topic at hand. “Such as?”

“Like... like trusting people with stuff, and thinking about the worst possible scenario before I do something, and trying to make allies and not enemies.”

“Will you be elaborating or am I to imagine the scenarios myself?” Severus asked, masking his genuine curiosity with sarcasm.

“What kind of scenarios are you imagining?” Potter grinned. “Because they might be more interesting really.”

“Loathe as I am to admit this, most things you do are terribly interesting,” Severus rolled his eyes. “Self destructive, chaotic, but typically incredibly fascinating.”

“Thank you sir,” Potter beamed at him, which prompted Severus to roll his eyes again.

It was not meant as a compliment.

“So I let Fred ask me ten questions, and I answered them all honestly. Before that I thought of the worst possible consequences and made sure I wasn’t too rough on Bagman. And instead of making Moody an enemy, I’m going to recruit him.”

Anything. Severus would give anything at all to resurrect even James Potter alone. He may even take up necromancy as a hobby in an effort to have the man available before the next time Potter says things that Severus has no idea how to respond to.

“The scar on Ludo Bagman’s face, your handiwork I presume?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to do more. But then I thought of the worst possible scenario and I didn’t.”

“Excuse me.” Severus summoned both a pain reliever and his scotch with a tumbler.

Potter tilted his head and watched curiously as he swallowed the pain reliever and followed it with a deep drink of his scotch.

“Continue.”

“I, er, well that was it for that one. Did you wanna hear the worst possible scenario or did you just wanna talk about something else?”

“I would prefer to be ignorant of your assault on a high ranking Ministry official, this way I am not forced to lie when the aurors inevitably come asking questions.”

Potter opened his mouth, no doubt with some fantastical explanation for his behavior, so Severus barreled ahead despite his regret at prodding at this line of conversation.

“You are attempting to recruit Alastor Moody to your ‘gang’?” he asked.

Was his eye twitching? Severus reached up and felt it and yes; yes Potter has actually caused him to develop a neurological deficit with a twitching eyelid.

God damned Harry Potter.

“Welllll,” Potter drew the word out, contributing further to Severus’ newest deficit. “Moody’s mad right? He has the longest write ups in Auror history. And he knows all the rules, but he’s willing to break them. So I’m recruiting him.”

Recruiting.

Based on a persons merits and their willingness to break the rules.

Albus may not need to fear that Potter, champion of House-Elves and Muggleborns, would be the next Dark Lord. But that did not mean Albus should not fear Potter. Because, despite Severus’ best efforts-

He was actively recruiting.

“You sound like the Dark Lord when you say things like that,” Severus sighed, mentally exhausted and emotionally taxed by his efforts to not yell. “You sound precisely like the Dark Lord.”

“That’s not on,” Potter stopped grinning like a loon and scowled now instead.

It was an improvement in Severus’ current opinion.

“Why don’t I sound like Dumbledore?” Potter asked. “He recruited too, right? So how come when I say it, I sound like the Dark Lord? Oh yeah, was Moody at those Death Eater meetings?”

Severus choked on his sip of scotch at that.

“Was Alastor Moody, the most successful dark wizard catcher to ever be in the Ministry ranks, at Death Eater meetings? No Harry, no he was not.”

“I’m sure he was a Death Eater though,” Potter said thoughtfully. “I’m positive of it.”

Potter had also once believed himself capable of giving himself night vision, gills, and feathers.

So he was hardly a reliable source of intuition when manic, was he?

“Tell me about Frederick,” Severus said. He would hardly sit here and debate even the mere insinuation that Alastor Moody had been a Death Eater.

“Tell me why I don’t sound like Dumbledore,” Potter countered with quickly. “I can’t recruit if everyone thinks I sound like Timmy, can I?”

Not- because I do not wish to sound like a megalomaniac Dark Lord.

But because sounding like one may hurt his chances of recruiting followers.

“Albus did not recruit, he simply allowed people to approach him and ask for a place within the Order,” Severus said. “It was considered a great honor to have that request be granted.”

“Hmm,” Potter hummed for a long moment while he looked around the classroom and rolled his healing shoulder. “Wasn’t it a great honor to be branded by the dark mark too?”

“It was.”

“So I should make people know that joining me is a great honor too then,” Potter said. “And Theo already said we shouldn’t actively try and get the Slytherin’s to join us instead of Timmy, he said we’ll just keep showing we have power until they come begging to join. Which I guess is what Dumbledore did. So a little bit of recruiting, a little bit of making them come to us, and before you know it we’ve beaten Timmy and Dumbledore both!”

“Tell me about Frederick,” Severus said again, his voice muffled slightly as he put his face in his hands. Potter still had two and a half hours until his shoulder healed and Severus may not make it that long. It was hardly nine o’clock and already he had driven Severus to drinking scotch with a twitching eyelid.

“Well, I already told you, kinda. I let Fred ask me ten questions and I answered them honestly. Oh yeah! Thanks for letting us go to Hogsmeade that day. Fuckin’ Charlie sat with us, which sucked, but it was still nice of you. I knew you didn’t hate Fred, you just pretend because otherwise... well, actually, I’m not sure why you pretend because you don’t with my other friends, do you? But I figure-“

“Shut up,” Severus groaned. “You are so incredibly manic that you are rambling like a madman.”

Potter shrugged, but he also grinned at him in a decidedly self-conscious way.

“I might be a little manic, maybe, but it feels amazing, yeah?”

“Does it?” Severus asked. “Can you describe it?”

Potter admitting to the mania was an improvement already. When he continuously denied it Severus had worried that he wouldn’t see reasoning. He was pleased that Potter had only been protesting, likely out of habit or fear of being perceived as ‘weak’.

“Well, I always feel great when I’m flying, and this is a bit of that. I feel happy, which, no offense, but I don’t usually feel. And I think that everything is gonna work out, which I also don’t usually think. I dunno, it just feels amazing. Feels like I’m free, you know? But I figure if I think I’m happy for no real reason then yeah, I’m probably manic. Like you said before about euphoria and being impulsive and stuff...”

Severus moved his eyes from Potter to his hands lest the child sense his thoughts in his eyes.

Potter believes himself to be manic based on the fact that he is not usually happy without cause or optimistic about life?

Pitiful.

“You understand that if you do not take your medication then this mania that feels so great will eventually fade and you will inevitably end up depressed, right?”

Severus looked back up at Potter and saw his grimace and minor twitch at the reminder.

“I think I can deal with being depressed if it means I don’t die during the tournament,” he said.

Stubborn.

Merlin Potter is stubborn.

And Severus had no true leverage here.

“Harry I do not know what to do here,” Severus said honestly. “I believe it would be better for you to be on the medication you definitely need and treat any possible injuries the muggle way than this route you have chosen.”

“Are you mad?” Potter asked with an attempt at a casual tone that missed the mark by about a Quidditch pitch’s length.

“I am not mad, though I do find myself disappointed that you made such a decision without my input,” Severus said gently. “You and I are a team, your decisions impact my life greatly as mine do yours. I believe we should have talked about this and made the decision together.”

“But there’s no compromise!” Potter cried. “There’s no middle ground here! Either I take it and I die if I need a potion, or I don’t!”

He was not incorrect. There was no true compromise in this situation.

Though... perhaps there was a deal that could be made.

Severus was close on his formula for the potion to mimic Potter’s medication. With the extra time he will have during the Yule holidays, he may actually be able to test it and begin treating Potter with a potion. If Potter could go three weeks without it, Severus could use this opportunity to create a deal with the child that would also benefit Potter greatly.

“I will offer you a trade,” he said carefully, praying to Merlin that Potter was unaware that Severus held no real cards in this game. “If you accept my deal, I will say no more about the medication.”

“What is it?” Potter asked warily, his eyes narrowed in sudden tension.

“Simple.” Severus leaned forward and watched Potter closely for his reaction. “First, the moment I complete the potion for your medication, you take it with no questions asked and no complaints voiced.”

Potter looked surprised.

“You... you’re making a potion just for me?” he asked.

“I am.”

It was also for Black, but Potter’s shy smile told him that he should keep that information to himself for the moment.

“Okay, yeah that’s fine. I don’t really wanna be depressed again anyway.”

“Wonderful,” Severus said. “I would like for you to inform me once you do begin feeling depressed, though as you already agreed to do this I do not believe we need to add it to our deal, do we?”

“No,” Potter shook his head to emphasize his point. “I’ll tell you, I guess. Feels like whinging though.”

“I will not consider it to be ‘whinging’ in the slightest,” Severus assured him. “Secondly, I would like you to send two letters a week to Remus Lupin outlining your days and your thoughts.”

Potter grimaced at that one.

“Why?” he asked. “Why would I tell Lupin my thoughts?”

“Because Lupin is a mind healer,” Severus stretched the truth nearly to the breaking point on that. “And it would bring ease to my mind to know that you have someone to talk to. Is this acceptable? Two letters a week. You can even describe your thoughts on playing poker with your friends for all I care, as long as you write something.”

Potter traced the armrest of his chair, ‘self-soothing’ the muggle healer called it, while he thought and Severus waited patiently.

“I can write about whatever I want?”

“You may. As long as it is not an entire parchment filled with swears or indecipherable Parsletongue,” Severus smirked.

Potter smirked back at him and rolled his eyes.

“How would Parsletongue even be written? Just a bunch of sss’s?”

“Does this mean you accept my second requirement?” Severus refused to be distracted when he was so close to implementing more resources to his ward’s life.

“Accepted,” Potter nodded. “So just take the potion without complaining when you finish it, and write to Lupin twice a week?”

“And-“ Severus hesitated, guessing this would be the contingency that Potter would resist the most. Though, the one with Lupin had went over reasonably well. “I would like for you to tell at least one person you trust about this.”

Potter had to start seeing his friends as people worthy of trust. He needed to become comfortable confiding in others, lest he becomes an adult who distrusts others and carries no counsel for his thoughts, feelings, and ideas.

An adult like the Dark Lord, who has always carried his own counsel.

“No.”

“Yes.” Severus said. “Harry, it must be incredibly draining carrying the weight of all these ‘secrets’ by yourself.”

“I am not going to make myself look weak and pathetic by telling one of them,” Potter sneered. “I’m not exactly going to look very strong by saying ‘hey guys I’ve got a mental disease’.”

“Do you believe yourself to be the only student within the castle who has a mental illness?” Severus asked carefully. “Because I believe you are merely one of the many.”

“Then let them go around talking about it,” Potter said. “I’m not going to.”

Severus prayed that he meant as much to Potter as he suspected he did.

“It is the final condition of our deal, and- and I would be incredibly proud of you if you told one person.”

“You’re- fuck. You’re disappointed in me if I don’t?” Potter asked softly. Despite his swear, he still sounded very childlike in that moment.

“I would be very pleased and proud if you accepted this deal,” Severus corrected him. “I am not disappointed in you for not doing so before now, but I can scarcely describe my pride if you would.”

Potter bit his lip harshly as he glanced erratically around the room.

“Does it matter who I tell?”

“It does not.”

“Who would you tell?”

Severus was caught rather wrong footed by the question, and tried to consider it carefully.

“I would tell Theodore,” he said. “As he resides with us, it would be the most practical choice of your misfits.”

“They aren’t misfits,” Potter said absently as he began tapping his foot now. “Fred would want me to tell him.”

“That would be acceptable as well,” Severus said.

“But Lue already knows.”

“Does she?” Severus was surprised by that admission. “You told her already?”

“No,” Potter shrugged. “I think she guessed. Cause she told me about how her mom had a mental sickness when I came to you that one day. She told me I was sick too and needed you to help me.”

Severus mentally added Luna Lovegood to a list of people he now owes a great debt to.

“Miss Lovegood is very wise,” he said. “But as she is already aware, I would prefer you to choose a different friend.”

“Theo then,” Potter said. “I’ll tell Theo. He knows about the medicine anyway, kind of.”

Severus got the sudden impression that he was not aware of a great many things that has happened recently in his wards life.

“Does he? Would you care to elaborate?”

Potter shrugged again and grimaced.

“He found me getting sick, I told him it was allergy medicine. Then he told me it was withdrawals and brain zaps I was having.”

Then Theodore was already aware that Potter was not taking allergy medication, as those do not cause severe withdrawals or neurological side effects. Theodore was a bright child, he surely had already put together the pieces of the puzzle.

“Theodore sounds to be the perfect choice,” Severus said. “Does our deal sound fair to you? I will accept your decision to abstain from the muggle medication if you take the potion as soon as it is finished and safe, you will write twice a week to Remus Lupin, and you will tell Theodore about your illness?”

“And tell you if I’m depressed,” Potter huffed. “I think you’re getting a lot more than I am.”

“Trust me when I say that the indescribable stress and worry that I will be suffering from until you are back to being treated is severe,” Severus said truthfully. “In fact, I believe that you are getting the better deal.”

“Fine. Fine. I accept. It’s bullshit, I think, but if it means we aren’t going to fight about the pills again, then I accept.” Potter wiggled his healing arm around and grimaced. “And this is annoying.”

“Quite,” Severus smirked. “Now, as we are no longer keeping secrets from each other and we have two more hours until you are free to leave my company, fill me in on all I have missed this last month brat.”

Potter smiled at him, warming away the strain of their previous conversation, and immediately complied.

But Merlin the child was difficult to understand when manic.

***

Lupin,
Harry is going to be communicating with you shortly. I have instructed him to write to you twice a week. I believe this would be an acceptable alternative to weekly in person meetings. At a minimum, Harry agreed to this whereas he may not agree to in person meetings on a regular basis.
Kindly try to not screw this up. Even you can handle simple correspondences.
-SS

***

Severus was pursuing his prior notes on his brew for a potions alternative to Lithium when he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Enter,” he called absently.

“Sir? Can I talk to you?”

Severus looked up and found himself surprised to see Theodore Nott hesitating in his doorway.

“Of course,” he said. “Come in. Sit.”

Theodore sat in what Severus had privately dubbed ‘Potter’s chair’ and immediately began tapping his pinky to his leg.

“I talked to Harry a couple days ago,” he said slowly. “He told me he’s sick.”

Severus inclined his head minutely as he waited for Theodore to get to his point.

“He said it’s a mental illness, and it makes him manic and depressed.”

“Correct,” Severus said.

Theodore continued tapping his leg, looking remarkably like Potter when he runs his thumbs over various surfaces.

“And he said you’re making him a potion to treat him,” he said.

“I am.”

Theodore nodded and stared intently down at Severus’ desk.

“Will it only work for Manic-Depressive Illness? Or will it work for... say... regular depression as well?”

Severus regarded the young man carefully. Theodore had the faintest pink stain to his cheeks, born of a misplaced sense of embarrassment?

“The potion I am working on is only recommended to be used in cases such as Harry’s. Though, once I complete it, I could begin developing one for a person who may find themselves experiencing regular bouts of depression.”

Theodore’s tapping increased in tempo. Though his face remained impressively blank, apart from the faint blush.

“If you did do that, and needed a test subject or something, I- I could test it,” he said quietly. “If you wanted.”

Severus felt two emotions so strongly and simultaneously that maintaining his own impassive expression was incredibly difficult.

Pity and shame.

Pity that Theodore had been suffering in silence for Merlin only knows how long. And shame that he, as Theodore’s semi-official guardian and Head of House, had neglected him thus far.

“That would be acceptable,” Severus said lightly. “I will begin it as soon as I finish Potter’s potion. Though I would like to request one, voluntary, condition to this.”

“What’s that?” Theodore twisted his lips up, obviously expecting something distasteful to be asked of him.

“I would simply like for you to tell Potter about this,” Severus told him. “As he has shared something incredibly personal with you, it may ease his worries that you think less of him if you share this with him.”

And if it meant that the two abused, traumatized, and mentally ill teenaged boys had each other as a support and resource- then that was a pleasant side effect that Severus would keep to himself.

“Oh,” Theodore’s expression relaxed at that. “Yeah, that seems fair. Then Harry won’t think he’s alone. That’s a good idea sir.”

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement, silently thinking that perhaps Theodore may no longer think he is alone either.

“I should get going. Thank you sir. I’ll talk to Harry tonight. Thank you.”

Severus silently watched as Theodore scrambled to his feet and left the room, a noticeable lightness to his steps now.

Severus turned his attention back to his prior test brews, looking for the formula that would perfect it, though his mind continued to whisper the same thought:

How had he failed so badly as a guardian thus far? And how many more failures would he bear?

***

Severus,
I got Harry’s first letter, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to it? He talked about his owl for three paragraphs, then added a running dialogue of how to play poker? I’m going to make a trip to France after the holidays to pursue the information they have on counseling teenagers, their knowledge base is much more in depth than ours. I’ll keep replying to Harry’s letters while I’m gone though, as incredibly odd as they may be.
-Remus Lupin.

Chapter Text

Harry,
I’m terrible at card games. So it’s impressive that not only do you know how to play, but you managed to teach your friends. Do you gamble when you play? And you described Sevvie as ‘the sweetest owl to ever be born’ but he pecked me hard enough to leave a scar on my finger so I may have to disagree with you there.
I look forward to your next letter.
-Remus

***

“Mister Potter, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Harry looked up from his bag that he was hastily cramming papers in and nodded.

“Of course Professor,” he said. Harry scooped his bag up and walked up to Professor McGonagalls desk.

“Harry, I need to speak with you about your partner,” she said slowly. Harry wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face. She looked nervous, and it was making him nervous.

“What partner?” he asked.

“Your partner for the Yule Ball.”

“Oh. I’m not going,” he said with a shrug. He’d listened as McGonagall announced the Yule Ball, but he thought it sounded terrible. Dancing around in posh robes in front of the whole school? A nightmare really. “It’s not mandatory, is it?”

“It is for Champions, as you will be opening the ceremony,” she said. Which made sense. Because being a champion was brilliant; which meant of course it came along with such a stupid requirement. “And you will need a partner.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “Partner would be the same thing as a date, yeah? Fred will probably go with me.”

Probably.

Harry would have to ask him.

“That is what I needed to speak with you about,” McGonagall said hesitantly. “Male champions are required to bring a female date.”

Harry blinked at her in surprise before quickly clearing his expression.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “Fred’s my boyfriend, why can’t he come?”

“I agree, it is unfair and ridiculously outdated,” McGonagall sniffed. “I personally would be irate to learn that I could not bring my life partner as my date to a social event. However, it is considered an ancient tradition that dates back to the first tournament and the rules are clear. I am sure Fred will understand,” she added kindly. “Perhaps you could bring Miss Bones as a friend instead?”

Harry scowled and scuffed the floor with his boots.

“Can’t we just change the rules?” he asked. “Because if you think they’re unfair too then maybe Dumbledore will listen to you?”

Knowing Dumbledore though, he’d probably set up the rules just to make what was sure to be a miserable night for Harry even worse.

Stupid old man.

“I tried,” McGonagall said, honesty practically oozing from her mouth. “But apparently it would require an entire rewrite of the rule book and all three participating schools would need to agree.”

“Fred’s going to be furious,” he warned her.

“I would never endorse a prank, but perhaps you would kindly inform Mister Weasley that the vote to change the rules regarding same sex dates to the ball was 2-1. And neither Professor Dumbledore nor Headmistress Maxine voted against it.”

Harry grinned up at her, the twinkle in her eyes giving away her true intentions with her words.

“Yes ma’am,” he said politely. “If that’s all?”

“It is. Good luck,” she dismissed him.

Harry found his friends waiting for him in the corridor and he immediately pulled them together.

“The Yule Ball is bullshit,” he whispered. “Theo- I need you to look up the rules. McGonagall says they say I can’t take Fred as a date, can you double check?”

“I’m on it,” Theo nodded.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Susan offered.

“Nah,” Harry waved off her offer with a small, and thankful, grin. “McGonagall’s probably wrong. We found a way around loads of rules before, I’m sure we can again.”

In Potions that afternoon, Snape made another announcement about the ball to them all.

“As many of you are aware, Hogwarts is hosting the Yule Ball this year,” Snape sneered, as if insulted by the mere idea of a dance. Harry couldn’t agree more. “This is meant to be a time to socialize with our foreign guests. However,” Snape’s eyes rested on each student individually, causing the Gryffindors to squirm in the seats. “This is not an open invitation to embarrass me. You will wear dress robes, you will act as I expect my students to act, and you will be a credit to our school. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” everyone murmured.

“Excellent. Dismissed.”

Everyone began chattering excitedly, everyone except Harry who was feeling irritated by the whole thing.

“Potter- a word.”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited, assuming this was more of what McGonagall already told him.

“Yes sir?” he asked politely when he walked up to Snape’s desk.

“Has Minerva told you of the rules regarding the champions approved dates to the ball?” Snape asked with a blunt forwardness that Harry appreciated.

“Yeah,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Supposedly I can’t take Fred. It’s bullshit.”

“Indeed,” Snape nodded his head. “As a side note, I would like to warn you against accepting any food or drinks from female classmates that you are not currently friends with.”

“What?” Harry stared at him in genuine surprise. It’s not like he would just take food from strangers, but it still seemed like an odd thing for Snape to tell him. “Why?”

“Because events like this tend to cause students to lose their heads,” Snape said drily. “And without fail, I find many students, male and female alike, to become unwilling victims of love potions.”

“Ugh,” Harry curled his nose in disgust. “That’s messed up.”

“Quite,” Snape’s lips twitched in amusement. “I simply thought I should warn you, as undoubtedly there will suddenly be many female students wishing to hang on your arm at this sham of an event.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him once Snape dismissed him. It was absurd that Fred liked him, it would be pure madness for anyone else to ask him out.

At dinner that night, Theo slammed down the thickest book Harry had ever seen and scowled ferociously at it.

“This is bullshit,” he said, repeating Harry’s exact words from earlier. “The rule book for the whole tournament. And it specifically says all students can only bring a partner of the opposite sex.”

“That’s outrageous!” Draco said.

“Almost as bad as people thinking bloodlines matter,” Susan smirked. “Wild concept, isn’t it?”

Harry ignored his now bickering friends and looked beseechingly at Fred.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “McGonagall said I have to have a date. I’d look like a prat dancing by myself. But we can’t go together.”

“It’s fine,” Fred told him with a lopsided grin. “I’m not mad. It’s hardly your fault, is it?”

“But...” Harry glanced around and, reassured by his still arguing friends, lowered his voice slightly. “But I don’t want you to go with some twit,” he admitted.

“I won’t,” Fred told him. “I don’t have to have a date, you do. So you find some lucky gal to hang on your arm for the Ball and then we can laugh about it later.”

Harry watched Fred carefully while he said that, and saw the tightness in his eyes that meant he was probably feeling more hurt by this than he was letting on.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Harry sighed. “This sucks. But you shouldn’t go by yourself if I’m taking someone. That’s not fair.”

“Alright,” Fred shrugged and looked at Luna. “Will you be my date to the Yule Ball Miss Lovegood?”

“Oh I can’t,” she said with a sweet smile. “Draco already asked me.”

Harry spun his head to look at Draco, who was now blushing terribly.

“I thought we’d go as friends,” Draco said with his hands raised. “Otherwise she can’t go, and I don’t really have anyone specific I’d want to go with anyway.”

Harry squinted at Draco and watched him squirm beneath his stare.

“You’re going to be nice to her all night long,” Susan cut in sternly. “You will get her drinks, dance with her, and make it the best night ever. Do you understand me Draco Lucius Malfoy?”

“Yes ma’am,” Draco said with a mock salute. “Best night ever, right Luna?”

“Right,” Luna smiled at him and Harry was pleased to see her look so happy. Of course if Draco fucked it up, he’d bash his blonde head in the wall.

“Miss Granger- me and you then?” Fred winked at Hermione, causing Theo to immediately scowl.

“No,” Theo practically growled. “Hermione is going to be my date to the ball Weasley.”

“He’s teasing you Theo,” Hermione sighed, although she looked rather pleased as well. “Everyone knows we’re going together.”

“Blimey. I knew we needed more girl friends,” Ron grumbled. “I dunno who I’m supposed to ask.”

“Am I not a girl?” Susan asked harshly.

“Uh...” Ron glanced at Blaise, who shook his head slightly. “Well, I figured you’d go with Harry? Also-“

“Also you’re a bit terrifying,” Blaise laughed. “So no, you don’t really count.”

“I accept your reasoning,” Susan said pompously. “But Harry told me he didn’t need me to go with him, and then Johnny asked me. But-“ she glanced at Harry and raised her brows, “I can tell him to piss off and go with you instead if you want?”

“No,” Harry slumped down at that. Dancing with Susan would have been fine. Harry was used to her touching him. But he knew she liked Johnny, so it would be selfish to ask her to give him up for himself. “That’s not fair. Go with Johnny. But tell him I’ll kill him if he’s rude to you, yeah?”

“Like she’d need you to do that,” Neville grinned. “Susan would just kill him herself.”

“I would,” Susan nodded. “But he said he thinks I’m ‘a force’, so I doubt he’d try anything,” she smirked.

“Which means we still need dates,” Ron moaned.

“We’ll find someone,” Blaise said bracingly. “I’m sure we can charm up a few witches to be our dates for the evening, right Neville?”

“Er...”

“Not you too!” Harry cried. “Who are you going with then?”

Neville sat up straight and looked right at Fred and Ron.

“I’d like to ask Ginny. But since you two are my friends, I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be mad first.”

Ron and Fred glanced at each other, and got identically mischievous smiles on their faces.

”That’s pretty chivalrous of you Neville,” Ron smirked.

“Of course we wouldn’t mind if such a brave and gallant young man took Ginny to the ball,” Fred said.

“Why would we mind?” Ron asked.

“She’s only our baby sister...”

“Only girl in the family...”

“Our Mums favorite...”

“Why would we worry?”

Neville gulped but bravely kept watching the two scheming Weasley’s.

“What are your intentions with our sister?” Fred asked solemnly. “Marriage?”

“A family?” Ron raised his brows.

“Sex?” Fred growled in a way that Harry thought wasn’t actually part of their act.

“No! Merlin! No!” Neville turned a bright shade of red. “I just- she talks to me sometime in the common room, and she’s only a third year, so she can’t go without an older date. And she said she was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas so I thought I’d ask her. As friends. Merlin.”

“Fine,” Fred waved his fork threateningly at Neville. “But if you treat her badly, I’m letting Susan take care of you.”

“Doubtful,” Susan scoffed. “I don’t work for you Frederick.”

“Brill,” Harry groaned. “So Fred needs a date. Ron needs one. Blaise needs one. And I need one. Nobody’s going to want to go with me, everyone knows I’m dating Fred.”

Harry’s friends all glanced at each other and immediately began laughing in a way that made Harry’s hand twitch in annoyance.

“What’s so funny then?” he demanded.

“Harry,” Luna smiled softly at him. “There’s going to be a whole line of witches just waiting to ask you to the ball.”

“But- why?” Harry asked, genuinely confused. “They know I’m dating Fred, yeah?”

“They won’t care,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “They’ll think they can make you change your mind.”

“Disgusting,” Fred said cheerfully. “Witches are brutal.”

“You guys are mad,” Harry scoffed. “I’m going to end up showing up alone and dancing with McGonagall.”

Harry’s friends laughed again and he grit his teeth as he swore that he would find a way to hex nine people simultaneously.

***

Lupin,
McGonagall says I can’t take Fred to the Yule Ball. Some bullshit rules that say that you can’t have a ‘same sex date’. I figure it’s kind of like when your parents wouldn’t have liked Black, yeah? Anyway, that’s what I’m doing this week. I have to find a date. Which sucks. Because Luna, Mione, and Susan already have dates. And I dunno if anyone will ask me or go with me since everyone knows I’m dating Fred.
Also Sevvie is just misunderstood. He’s got an owl heart of gold. He probably pecked you because he doesn’t like you. Can’t imagine why.
-Harry.

***

To Harry’s amazement, his friends wound up being right. The very next morning, during breakfast, a curly haired, third year, Hufflepuff girl came up to him and asked him to go with her.

“No,” Harry said shortly. The girl walked off looking rather dejected and Susan scowled at him.

“She’s very nice you know,” she said.

“She asked me right in front of everyone!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s mad! It was probably a joke or something.”

“Being oblivious is not charming,” Hermione said with a small grin. “Harry, you’re very fanciable. I’d bet that she was just the first of many.”

Harry could feel himself tensing up at the very thought, but, of course, Hermione was right again.

As she usually was.

Which was annoying.

By dinner that night four more witches asked him. Including Pansy Parkinson, who Harry had once snapped her wand in half.

“I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I’d like to go with you,” she batted her dark eyelashes at Harry in the most annoying way possible.

“Piss off,” Harry had snarled, turning and stomping away in the opposite direction.

“She probably knows how to dance,” Draco said at dinner after Harry told his friends about it. “Her parents have had her in dance classes her whole life.”

“She called me a disgusting orphan,” Harry sneered. “No.”

Harry was starting to hate girls. They were all just so giggly and annoying.

“Have you lot found dates yet?” he asked Fred, Viktor, Blaise, and Ron.

“I decided I’m definitely going stag,” Fred said with a grin. “Then I’m free to dance with you as soon as your ‘champion obligations’ are done.”

“I have not,” Viktor frowned down at his drink. “Vitches are hard to ask.”

“You’re an international superstar,” Susan sighed exasperated. “I’m sure anyone you ask will say yes.”

“Hey! I’ve got an idea!” Fred, shockingly, smiled at Viktor. “There’s a girl on my quidditch team, Katie Bell, and she’s mad about quidditch! Smart as a whip too! And she’s pretty! You could ask her. Then you could go with George and Angelina, and Lee and Alicia. A whole group of quidditch fanatics!”

Viktor brightened at that, but Harry scowled just a bit. Why wouldn’t Fred have told him about Katie? He’d met her a few times before, she would have been fine for him to ask to the ball. It would have been uncomfortable to dance with her, but better than the nothing he had now.

“I vill do that,” Viktor nodded gratefully at Fred. “Vank you.”

“Anytime.” Fred winked at Harry and then noticed his dark look. “What?”

“I would have asked Katie,” he said, crossing his arms irritably. “Then me you and her could have hung out, yeah?”

“Oh,” Fred’s face fell a bit and he shrugged in a helpless sort of way. “I didn’t think of that. Sorry Darlin.”

“Vould you like to ask her?” Viktor grunted. “I do not mind.”

”No,” Harry sighed, a bit dramatically, at yet another suitable date being snagged away. “You should ask her Viktor, I met her once at a party and she’s nice enough. You’ll have a good time.”

Honestly. This dance was becoming more drama than it was worth. And it was putting Harry in the awkward position where he’d have to ask someone for something, which he hated doing.

“Harry the dance is a week away,” Susan said gently. “Just ask someone or accept the next invite you get, we both know you’ll get more.”

Harry scowled at that, but the problem that they didn’t realize was:

1- It was bullshit rules that put him in this position and Harry hated rules that didn’t have any reasoning behind them.

2- He didn’t want to dance with someone else because they would probably touch him and he hated that too.

And 3- He didn’t actually want to go if he couldn’t go with Fred.

“I will,” he grumbled. “Eventually.”

“Better hurry Harry, even Ron has a date,” Draco smirked.

“What?!” Harry gaped at Ron, whose ears were now red despite his pleased look. “Who?!”

“Parvati Patil,” he said. “Blaise is taking her sister Padma so we’re all going together.”

“You could ask Lavender Brown,” Blaise said. “I don’t think she has a date yet.”

“Neither does Daphne,” Theo said. “She’d love to go with you.”

Harry grimaced at those options and pushed his plate away, suddenly no longer hungry.

“This is bullshit,” he said for the fiftieth time since the ball was announced. “Absolute bullshit.”

***

Harry,
I agree that the rules surrounding the Yule Ball are disturbing, unfair, and, as you said, absolutely bullshit. Have you found a date yet? If not, I would advise you to just ask a girl who seems kind and who respects your current relationship.
I mentioned the blatant discrimination to your godfather, leaving out any reference to your letter, and he said: “Harry and Fred should just dance together anyway. What are they going to do? Expel them?”
While I personally believe it may be easiest to simply find a nice girl to take for the evening, you should do what you are comfortable with.
Good luck, I can’t wait to hear who you’ve taken.
-Remus

***

Harry read Lupin’s letter thoughtfully over breakfast. With only three days until the Ball, he did need to figure something out.

“‘Arry?”

Harry looked up from his letter and was surprised to see Fleur Delacour standing beside their table.

“Fleur,” he smiled up at her. “How are you?”

“I am well,” she smiled. “May I speak with you? Perhaps in private?”

“Oui,” Harry grinned. “Lead the way my Lady.”

Harry followed Fleur out to the steps of Hogwarts. It was beginning to get really frigid out, they had even had a light snowfall the night before. Which added to the overall magical appearance of the lawns.

“‘Arry, would you be my date to the ball?” Fleur asked with a bright smile. “I know you ‘ave a paramour, but as you cannot take ‘im- we could go together, no?”

“I-“ Harry was caught by surprise and flexed his hand a few times while he thought about it. “Yeah, yeah, okay. That would be brill Fleur. As friends, right?”

“Oui,” Fleur beamed at him. “As friends.”

Harry rejoined his friends with a bemused smile.

“What did Fleur want?” Hermione asked him.

“She wanted to ask me to the ball,” Harry shrugged. “I told her yeah.”

Apparently his friends were all as surprised as Harry was, because they all stared at him in shock.

“Fleur Delacour asked you to the ball?” Blaise asked in a choked voice.

“As friends,” Harry told him.

“And you said yes?!” Ron asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he? Fleur’s gorgeous,” Susan said. “She’s very smart and powerful too. I’m sure you guys will have a great night together Harry.”

Harry nodded, then twitched slightly when Fred pushed his plate abruptly away and got up and left.

“What’s his problem?” Harry asked.

“He’s jealous,” Blaise said. “Fleur’s gorgeous and she’s going with his boyfriend.”

“He told me to find a date,” Harry said. “So I did. So what’s the problem?”

“Honestly,” Hermione huffed. “Harry, Fred doesnt want you to go alone, but he’s still feeling insecure that you’re going with Fleur. Give him some space, he’ll be fine.”

“I dunno, Fred’s weird,” Ron said.

“He is not fuckin’ weird,” Harry scowled.

“No, not weird,” Ron said hastily. “I mean, he likes you a lot, you know? And Fred’s always been pretty open about liking blokes, so he’s probably just mad about having to hide it. That’s all.”

“Yeah...” Harry looked down at Lupin’s letter again and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “I actually need to go find Snape. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Harry walked slowly to Snape’s office, debating on the best way to ask him the favor he’d need.

“Come in,” Snape called when Harry knocked.

“It’s me,” Harry said absently as he clutched the letter in one hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Snape didn’t smile, but he did look to be in a good mood. “What can I do for you?”

“Er...” Harry looked around as he tried to find a way to word it just right. “Will you be mad if one of the Slytherin’s embarrasses you at the Ball?”

“Are you planning on embarrassing me?” Snape asked warily. “Because I would prefer you to not.”

“I dunno, not embarrass you exactly. But... I think you might be mad at me.”

“Explain,” Snape sighed.

“I don’t want to dance with Fleur,” Harry blurted. “I’d rather dance with Fred, if I have to dance at all. Which- McGonagall says I do. And I don’t want someone I don’t know grabbing on me while we dance, it’s weird. So I’m going to find a way to take Fred, so nobody’s upset or jealous, but then you’re going to be upset, yeah?”

Snape ran a weary hand across his face and slumped back in his chair.

“Inform me of your precise plan, if you would,” he said.

“I don’t have one,” Harry admitted. “Not yet. But I’m going to get one.”

“Will you be informing me of it before you do it?”

“If it means we aren’t going to fight and you aren’t going to be mad, then yeah.”

Snape nodded curtly.

“Keep in mind as you are plotting- that change is difficult to implement. Yet I believe you are cunning enough to find a subtle way to do so. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Harry nodded as well and grinned over at Snape. He was a decent bloke. “Hey thanks for not hating me for dating Fred.”

“Why on Earth would I hate you?” Snape asked, surprised. “Frederick is a chaotic monster in his own right, but your relationships are your business as long as they are safe, consensual, and make you happy.”

“Well, Lupin said his parents wouldn’t have liked him being gay, but I didn’t even know that was a thing until recently. And Karkaroff wouldn’t vote for a change in the rules, so I guess people are still weird about it. Which I didn’t know. So... so thanks for not being weird about it.”

“Go,” Snape actually had part of his mouth curled up in a smile now. “Go and find a way to enlighten the Wixen community of the many differing sexualities, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Harry grinned. “Wish me luck.”

Harry immediately ran off to find his friends and missed Snape’s quietly spoken well wishes.

“Susan, Theo, Blaise- we need a plan,” Harry said once he found his friends huddled up in the Slytherin common room.

“I’m in,” Susan said without hesitation.

“What plan?” Theo asked hesitantly.

“Why can’t I help?” Draco whined.

“You can all help, but we have to think quick,” Harry said. “We’re finding a way I can take Fred to the ball.”

“But you already told Fleur you’d take her,” Luna said softly. “She’ll be upset if you change your mind.”

Fuck.

Harry hadn’t considered that.

“Find Fleur a new date,” Hermione said. “She knew you were dating Fred, right? So just tell her that you’re finding a way around the rules and you’d rather her find a date that she can have fun with as well.”

“Lue- will that work?” Harry asked. Luna was the one who brought it up, so she’d probably know best.

“I think if you do it very kindly it will,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Maybe mention how beautiful and smart she is though, just to ease the pain of rejection.”

“Brill.”

“How are we doing this then?” Susan asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.

“Subtly,” Harry said seriously. “Snape won’t be pissed if I’m subtle he says.”

“Boo, fine,” Susan rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got an idea,” Theo said. “It’s subtle, but sends a message. And you can dance with Fred.”

“Let’s hear it,” Harry said. His excitement for the ball rose exponentially once Theo explained and the gang tweaked a few minor details.

“It’s perfect!” Harry declared. “As long as Snape isn’t pissed.”

And when Harry hurried and told Snape the plan- Snape wasn’t pissed at all. In fact, he said he was proud of Harry for standing up for what he believed in. Which, was weird. Because Harry just didn’t want to upset Fred or dance with Fleur. But he supposed it was still nice of Snape to say.

“Fleur, could I talk to you?”

Harry had finally tracked Fleur down in the halls and was feeling terrible for what he was about to do. Fleur was nice, and the more they talked the more Harry liked the witch, but Fred was his and she wasn’t. It was an easy choice.

Even if he felt bad about it.

“Of course ‘Arry,” she smiled.

“Fleur... I...” Harry gripped his knife handle in his pocket and drew courage from it. “I can’t take you to the ball. I’m sorry. It’s-“

“It eez your paramour, yes?” Fleur said. “‘E does not wish for you to take another?”

“Kind of,” Harry admitted. “But I would be mad if he was dancing with someone else too. And,” Harry leaned forward and tried to smile charmingly, “we’re going to find a way around the rules so he can go with me.”

“Zat is excellenté,” Fleur said, sounding genuinely happy. “Eet is unfair you could not. We would never have zis problem at Beauxbatons, no?”

“The French are better than us Brits in almost every way,” Harry winked, using a phrase he’d heard Snape say before. “Are you mad? Because I can help you find someone nice to go with.”

“‘Arry,” Fleur smiled and her blue eyes were twinkling with amusement. “I ‘ave ‘ad dozens of wizards ask me, zey do believe me to be rather attractive. I zink I can ‘andle finding a date.”

“Dozens?” Harry asked, surprised. “Fleur, you shouldn’t go with someone that just asks you because you’re pretty. They should know you’re a genius too, okay?”

Fleur’s already bright smile intensified at that and she shocked Harry by leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek quickly.

“Zank you for saying that ‘Arry, your paramour eez a lucky man.”

“He is,” Harry agreed with a grin. “But I’ll tell him you said that, yeah?”

Fleur’s tinkling laugh followed Harry as he pulled his map out to find Fred.

Who, luckily, was alone in the owlery.

Harry raced up there, keeping an eye on Fred’s dot to make sure he didn’t leave before Harry got there.

“Fred!” Harry burst in the owlery and surprised Fred, who had been leaning against the window looking out at the clear cold sky. “Hey! Go to the ball with me?”

“Funny,” Fred quipped with a small, fake, grin.

“No really,” Harry stepped closer to him and looked up earnestly at him. “Go to the ball with me.”

“How?” Fred asked. “The rules say we can’t.”

“Fred,” Harry grinned mischievously, “how would you like to play the greatest prank ever on Hogwarts?”

Fred’s matching grin was all the confirmation Harry needed.

***

Lupin,
I took your advice. Well, Black’s advice. I’m taking Fred to the Ball. So basically this week all I’ve done is deal with a bunch of girls asking me out and make plans for the ball. I was going to go with Fleur but I’d rather go with Fred. So we’re going together. But we’re ‘subverting the rules with the subtlety befitting of a Slytherin’ (Snape’s words, not mine). Anyway, guess I’ll write afterwards and tell you how it went.
-Harry.

***

Rita Skeeter,
This is Harry Potter. I was wondering how you would feel about coming to Hogwarts for the Yule Ball? I’m sure the Contessa would be pleased if you would come and write a story about a bullshit ridiculous rule that my boyfriend and I will be protesting against.
Best wishes,
Harry James Potter, Heir Potter-Black, ally to the Contessa Zabini of Italy.

Chapter Text

Fred stood beside his brother and Angelina outside the Great Hall doors and politely ignored the guilty looks McGonagall kept sending him. Harry told him how McGonagall thought it was unfair that they couldn’t go together, but she didn’t stick up much for them either, did she? And it wasn’t like they were the only couple in Hogwarts who had a ‘same sex partner’, so bullocks to her.

Fred watched with a warm feeling of pride as Harry strode up to the doors and lined up with the other champions. He looked breathtaking in his new dark green dress robes that had silver trimming on them. A gift from Zabini’s mum apparently. All Fred knew was they looked expensive, and Harry looked brilliant in them. Every bit the Slytherin Prince the Gryffindor’s called him as a taunt.

Little Luna, in her floor length silver ball gown, looked beautiful by his side. Susan had done her hair for the event, and it was twisted up in elegant braids that wrapped around her head and was adorned with interwoven strands of black sparkles, like some sort of delicately dark fairy crown. Fred ignored the small stab of jealousy he felt at seeing someone so gorgeous holding on to Harry’s arm. He reassured himself that it was only temporary though.

Because Harry was amazing and had made a plan.

He distracted himself by eyeing the other couples standing around. George and Angie in their matching dark red dress robes (Angie refused to wear a dress, she called it sexist). George had tried to get Fred to wear Gryffindor colors too, but Fred instead went with a silver and green set, matching Harry without being too matching.

In front of Harry stood Viktor Krum, in black dress robes, with Katie Bell laughing beside him in a beautiful form fitting dress of black satin. Ahead of them were Cedric Diggory in classic Hufflepuff yellow dress robes, with Cho Chang in a green and yellow floral wrap dress that Fred wasn’t quite sure what it was called.

In the front of the line of champions was Fleur Delcaour in a full length bronze colored dress, with a Durmstrang chap that Fred didn’t know the name of. Which probably wasn’t important as Fleur kept glancing towards Harry longingly. Which was bloody annoying. Harry had told Fred that Fleur understood why he cancelled, and was planning on finding a date who ‘understood her worth as a person’, but from the way the Durmstrang boy was drooling and Harry was smirking knowingly up at Fleur, Fred doubted if Fleur appreciated the trade in partners.

Which, again, was bloody annoying.

Fred shook his head and went back to looking at the rest of the students. If he fell in to a bad mood every time someone looked at Harry like he was a meal to be devoured instead of the most amazing person Fred had ever met, then he’d probably be in a perpetually bad mood. And that just wasn’t his style.

Fred grinned over at little Ronniekins in his deep purple dress robes with one of the Patil twins on his arm dressed in a pink sari. Zabini was beside them, also in dark purple dress robes, with the other Patil girl in an orange sari on his arm. Both boys looked pleased with their dates and were all four talking enthusiastically about something Fred couldn’t hope to overhear.

Theo and Hermione looked sharp in their coordinating periwinkle and dark blue outfits. Theo glared at Fred when he caught his eye, so Fred winked irritatingly at him. Theo was ridiculous. As if Fred had any interest in taking someone as boring as Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball. Even if she was the wrong gender, she had no real sense of humor. Malfoy stood beside the two bookworms, his grey eyes continuously being drawn to Luna, while he was dressed to obviously match in posh silver trimmed black robes.

Fred even had to admit that even Neville looked rather dashing in his crimson robes. Fred had no idea where Ginny had gotten the money to order the dress she wore, but he was absolutely certain their mum didn’t purchase it. It was a tight, tight, shimmering golden dress that exposed more of her chest than Fred would have ever wanted to see in his life.

Of course Susan, hovering closely to Harry, was a total knockout. She was dressed in a skin tight, short, white dress that highlighted her curves, and had a long slit up the side to showcase her shapely legs. She’d curled her hair in to bouncy ringlets that drew your eyes right to her very exposed chest- which Johnny Abbott had clearly noticed.

Fred smirked at Johnny’s choice of attire. Clearly Harry and himself were not the only ones giving a huge middle finger to tradition tonight. Johnny was in a crisp black and white muggle suit and had on a black, backwards, muggle cap on top of his long blonde braids.

Fred hoped everyone blew a gasket when they saw Susan’s skimpy dress and Johnny’s muggle suit. It would serve them all right for refusing to allow same-sex couples to attend the ball together. Tradition had its place, but so did evolvement.

Fred knew that Harry’s friends thought he was being jealous when Harry decided to attend with Fleur Delacour, and he had been a bit. But it was more than that.

Fred had ‘came out’ to his family, sweating and stammering the whole time, when he was twelve. He’d known that year that he was only attracted to blokes, but he’d also been terrified to tell anyone. George was the first to know, as he always was, and told him to just ‘suck it up’ and ‘tell them already’. So he had.

And for the most part- it had been fine. His mum had cried on him, his Dad patted his shoulder reassuringly, and Bill and Charlie both said they had already guessed as much. Ginny shrugged, and Ron asked if there was dessert available. But his older brother Percy had changed that day- and Fred doubted if he’d ever see his brother in a truly positive light again. Percy had mumbled a lot about ‘unconventional’ and ‘unnatural’ under his breath when he was near Fred. And Fred never told anyone, but it had hurt him deeply to hear those things from the brother he used to look up to (back before he’d realized Percy was a stick in the mud anyway). Fred decided then that he could either be proud of who he was, or listen to Percy’s hateful mumblings and be ashamed.

And Fred chose to be proud.

Then he started openly dating Harry, as opposed to the casual hookups he’d had with blokes before that, and for the most part it had been wonderful. Fred figured if Harry was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been so relatively easy. But people either loved Harry, respected Harry, or were terrified of Harry. Some people seemed to be all three. So Harry had hardly gotten any of the flack that Fred occasionally did over being ‘open’ about his choice in romantic interests.

No student would dare call Harry a queer in a disgusted tone of voice. Nor would they curl their lips and whisper about what a disgrace he was, not for his sexuality anyway.

So, no, Harry and his friends didn’t really understand why this rule had bothered Fred so much.

And yet, despite not understanding Fred’s real and complicated feelings on the matter, Harry had still decided to say ‘fuck you’ to tradition and found a way that they could proudly be together tonight.

And Fred realized you could fall in love with someone more than once.

“Champions!” McGonagall yelled over the chattering of the students crowding the entrance hall. “Over here please!”

Fred winked one last time at Harry as the champions moved to their positions.

“Showtime,” he grinned at Malfoy, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Malfoy drawled, but his glance back towards Luna gave him away quite a bit.

Fred laughed and followed the rush of students in to the Great Hall. He positioned himself beside the doors, alongside Malfoy, and waited for his cue.

He glanced around with interest as he waited, noticing the Great Hall looked much more impressive than it usually did. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

All the students in the Hall began politely clapping, and somewhere a photographers flash was going off, as Fleur and her partner entered. Fred whistled and winked at the girl when she glanced at him. Her warm smile reassured him that she probably wasn’t after Harry romantically, but had likely just wanted a normal date for the night.

Which was understandable, but Harry was his date.

Next through was Diggory and Chang. There were more enthusiastic cheers for them as they followed behind Fleur to the Head Table.

Then Krum and Katie. Fred whistled again, which made Katie flip him off behind her back where the photographer wouldn’t see.

And then Harry. His Harry. Looking more elegant, graceful, and confident than Fred had ever seen. He thought it was similar to how Harry looked in a duel, except the tight look of ferocity in his eyes was gone, replaced tonight with a sparkle of amusement. Luna, beside him, looked just as graceful and elegant as she smiled serenely even in the face of the rapid, and blinding, flashbulbs.

Harry stopped about six feet in the hall and turned to Luna with a mischievous smirk.

“My Lady,” he grinned and raised her hand to his mouth for a chaste kiss. “I’m afraid my heart belongs to another.”

“Pity,” Luna sighed. “Yet we made such a fabulous couple.”

Fred chuckled beneath the loud whispers of gossip quickly moving between the onlooking students and staff. Theo and Hermione may be boring bookworms, but their lines for this part in the plan were perfect.

“May I?” Fred stepped forward and took Harry’s newly emptied hand.

“You may,” Harry smiled up at him and the already rapid clicks and flashes from the photographer went positively wild. Fred easily linked his arm with Harry’s and they strode confidently to the Head Table. The students began loudly talking at that, but, just as Harry’s friends had hoped, no one stopped them. Fred glanced backwards once and saw Draco immediately taking Luna’s hand and pulling her beside himself.

Fred looked back up at the Head Table and saw Dumbledore giving them a broad smile of approval. The headmaster began clapping, and slowly, so did the rest of the hall. By the time Fred and Harry made it to their seats, they had done so to a standing ovation.

Fred only resisted the urge to bow by pulling Harry’s chair out for him instead. He had promised Harry that he would be on his best, and most ‘subtle’, behavior tonight.

Not too subtle though. He did blow a kiss to Karkaroff once he saw the man’s purpling face glaring harshly at them.

Bigoted arse.

Fred was so focused on pulling off the switch of partners in a way that couldn’t be refused publicly, not without a loud scandal that ‘Harry’s good friend Rita Skeeter’ would write about, that he missed the familiar glasses on the familiar redhead that was seated right next to where he pulled the chair out for Harry.

Percy.

The last person Fred really wanted to see tonight, of all nights.

“Perce,” he said lightly. “Did you kill off old Crouch and take his position?”

Fred knew Percy hated being called ‘Perce’, nearly as much as he revered his cranky old boss. Which is why it was the perfect opening line to the brother who had curled his nose at him the moment Fred sat on the opposite side of Harry.

“I’ve been promoted,” Percy said, his tone nothing less than condescending and pompous. “I’m now Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.”

“Wow, fascinating,” Fred grinned. “Right Harry?”

“Not really,” Harry drawled, apparently picking up on Fred’s own dislike of Percy. Harry had an intuition better than any mind reading could ever be.

“What are you two doing?” Percy asked in a hushed whisper. “The rules clearly state-“

“The rules are bullshit,” Harry sneered. “So I don’t care about them, do I?”

Percy looked personally offended, as if he himself had written the rules.

“Fred, you should never have-“

“Excuse us,” Harry said with a small and insincere smile. Harry scooted his chair closer to Fred by a couple inches and the two of them shared a smile. On the other side of Harry, Percy’s face was a bright shade of red.

“How do you suppose we order food?” Harry asked Fred, plucking up the golden menu beside his plate. Fred glanced at Dumbledore and watched as he spoke his order to his plate, and had it immediately granted.

“Easily I guess,” Fred laughed. He looked down at his plate and told it clearly, “Lobster tail.”

Harry laughed when it popped up in immediate appearance.

“That’s not even on the menu!” he said.

“The elves love me,” Fred winked at him. “Try it.”

Harry looked down at his plate and ordered, “Miniature treacle tarts.”

Once Harry’s absurd wish had been granted, the two of them had a great time ordering more and more outrageous food while everyone around them talked happily.

Everyone except Percy, who was sending Fred occasional dark looks, along with a crinkled nose look of distaste towards Harry.

Fred’s wand hand twitched every time Percy looked at Harry like that, but he didn’t want to ruin Harry’s night by fighting with his brother.

He’d just remember this when they were home together over the summer.

Fred ignored his brother, and instead fell in to an easy chat with Katie and Krum about different quidditch teams in the leagues this year. Surprisingly, now that Fred was over his childish jealousy, Krum was a decent sort of bloke. He was self-deprecating and knowledgeable about the different ins and outs of professional quidditch and was eager to share with the Gryffindor players.

Beside them, Harry was chatting away with Fleur, her date all but forgotten, as the girl laughed and tried to teach Harry French.

“Parlez-vous anglais?” Fleur said.

“Parlay-voo angles?” Harry repeated, butchering the romantic language with his adorably slight twang.

And through it all- Percy sat in his seat, fuming and ignored.

All the way up until he mumbled something halfway through dinner that caused Harry to stiffen and turn a cool look on him.

“Take it back,” Harry said, his voice acerbic and frigid. ”Now.”

“Fred is my brother,” Percy said, his chin stuck out in the stubborn way that Weasley’s tend to be known for. “So I’ll say what I please, Potter.”

Harry suddenly smiled at Percy, and it wasn’t a kind smile at all. It was his ‘I’m about to tear you apart piece by piece’ smile that Fred dreamed about occasionally.

“Fred is mine,” Harry all but whispered. He had the same neat vocal trick that Snape did- he could lower his voice as much as he wanted, and still he sounded clear as a bell and sharp as a nail. “So no, you won’t say as you please.”

“Yours?” Percy looked between Fred and Harry and shook his head. “It’s unnatural and improper,” he whispered as the other conversations masked his vile words. “It’s not right.”

Harry barely moved, only twitched slightly, but suddenly the sleeve on his right arm was pulled back slightly and his sharp silver dagger was visible long enough for Percy and Fred to both see, before Harry shook his arm and it was hidden from view. Percy kept sending uneasy glances towards his arm now. Fred hoped he was remembering the many, many, photos of Harry stabbing a dragon with a sword that the Daily Prophet published.

“You know what’s unnatural?” Harry hissed. “People like you, Perky (and Merlin, Fred thought it was hysterical when Harry pretended to mispronounce peoples’ names). You’re the kind of guy who gets a nice ‘proper’ wife, then goes searching out for a bloke to take to a seedy motel with you late at night. Afterwards you go home to your ‘proper’ wife and ‘proper’ life, and it’s all a lie, isn’t it? Well guess what? Guys like you are usually the weakest and most disgustingly unnatural guys there are. So I’d calm down on the name calling.” Harry ended his disturbingly specific rant with a sharp smile and a twitch of his hand that had Percy flinching in his seat.

Fred thought his heart might burst at that.

“I love you,” he said conversationally to Harry. “Light of my life.”

Harry didn’t return the sentiment, which was fine because he said Fred was his, which was probably the most he could claim for sure right now. Plus, he did beam over at Fred and wink before they went right back to pretending Percy didn’t exist.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and Harry stood up and offered Fred his hand as the other champions rose as well.

Fred let Harry lead him by the hand to the brightly lit dance floor. Harry had his jaw set and a determined light in his eyes that looked a lot like preparation for a battle. The Weird Sisters struck up a slow tune and Fred slowly placed his arms around Harry’s waist, as Harry placed his own arms around Fred’s neck.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Fred murmured as Harry’s tightly coiled muscles started to relax beneath his arms as they swayed back and forth.

“Suppose not,” Harry mumbled, slowly laying his head on Fred’s chest in the perfect spot that seemed to be made just for Harry’s head.

“You were brilliant you know,” Fred told him. “Finding a way for us to come together? It meant a lot to me.”

“You’re okay too, I suppose.”

Fred laughed at Harry’s uncharacteristically teasing tone and watched as other couples soon joined the champions. Dumbledore led out Madame Maxine, Ginny and Neville were soon dancing beside them, and he nudged Harry to look when he saw Professor Sinistra force Professor Snape out to dance with her.

“Oh God, he’s going to kill her,” Harry chuckled. Fred winked down at Harry before loudly whistling at Snape, drawing the man’s irate eyes straight to them.

“Frederick,” he said coolly as he led Professor Sinistra towards them in his arms. “Harry,” he added much softer as he looked down at Harry, “behaving yourselves?”

“Of course sir,” Fred said with mock-solemnity.

Professor Sinistra snorted, but gave them each a bright smile.

”25 points to Gryffindor and Slytherin,” she said.

“For why?” Harry asked bewildered.

Sinistra didn’t say anything, she just glanced towards where two Beauxbaton’s girls were dancing in each other’s arms and across from them where two Ravenclaw seventh year boys were dancing as well.

Fred felt his chest swell with pride at the sight.

They’d done that. Him and Harry. They made it so other couples could dance together too. Because if nobody was going to lecture the Champion of Hogwarts for it, then they could hardly lecture the other students, could they?

“You’re amazing,” Fred told Harry in awe. “I love you.”

Fred heard Snape snort lightly, but he ignored him as he and Sinistra danced away. Harry glanced around cautiously, probably checking for anyone close enough to overhear them, then looked up at Fred, chewing his lower lip.

“Do I- I mean- do you- am I supposed to say it back?” Harry whispered. “Because... this counts as a secret, yeah? I dunno what to say right now.”

“Nope,” Fred grinned at him. “You don’t have to say anything.”

And he didn’t. Harry was starting to slowly trust Fred. He’d shared secrets with him on the night of their date. He hardly ever flinched when Fred touched him anymore. In fact, more and more Harry was the one initiating contact. Fred thought maybe Harry was starting to try and make up for the terrible life he’d had before, now that he felt safe enough to do so.

Safe enough with Fred.

Who he said was his.

So, no. Harry didn’t need to say it out loud. Fred was pretty confident in his place within Harry’s life now.

Harry slowly returned his smile and they danced together until the last chord of the current song ended.

“Wanna get a drink?” Harry yelled over the loud pop song that played next.

“Yeah.”

Fred followed Harry as he quickly led them away from the crowd of bodies that were jumping around like a bunch of sugar crammed firsties. Harry steered them towards Susan and Johnny, who were standing with Draco and Luna beside the table covered with punch bowls and dainty little crystal glasses.

“Having fun?” Fred asked them, clapping Johnny on the shoulder.

“I think what I need is one more damned pureblood to curl their nose at my suit and my night would be perfect,” Johnny drawled.

“Drakey, wanna do the honors?” Fred grinned.

“My name is not ‘Drakey’,” Malfoy sneered. “And I happen to like that suit, even if it is Muggle.”

“Imagine your Dad hearing that,” Harry smirked as he handed Fred a drink.

“I think it’s wonderful you’re different from your father,” Luna said in her typically airy voice. “You’d be terribly annoying otherwise.”

Malfoy sputtered while the rest of them laughed at the implied insult.

“Ooh, this is a great song,” Luna declared when the song shifted again. Malfoy gave her a fond smile of exasperation.

“Do you want to go dance?” he asked.

“Yes please,” Luna beamed up at him and let him lead her out towards the dance floor. Fred saw how Harry was warily eyeing the packed crowd and knew he wouldn’t want to dance. He didn’t offer, just in case Harry thought it meant he did.

“Photo for the Daily Prophet?”

The four of them turned and saw a squat man grinning toothily at them and clutching a camera. Fred rolled his eyes as the man seemed torn between watching Harry with nothing short of amazement and drooling at Susan’s exposed legs.

“We’d love to, right Harry?” Susan winked at Harry before she draped herself on Johnny’s arm. Fred wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and was surprised when Harry stretched up to kiss him as the camera went off.

“Thanks,” the man grunted before wandering off towards Dumbledore and Madame Maxine.

“Wouldn’t it be wicked if they posted that on the front page?” Fred laughed. “Just: ‘The Boy Who Lived and his boyfriend with their Muggle dressed mate and the niece of the DMLE’. People would lose their minds.”

“If anyone can change people’s minds about what tradition should mean, it’s Harry,” Susan said seriously.

“What’s that mean?” Harry asked curiously. “Like change the rules about bringing a date to the ball?”

“It’s more than just the ball,” Fred said. “It’s like...” he looked around the room while he tried to find a way to explain it. “It’s like him,” Fred pointed at the Ravenclaw boy he saw dancing earlier. “Charles Rastiff. He came out in fifth year, and his parents kicked him out. He was homeless for part of that summer, until his boyfriends family let him move in.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?” Harry bristled. “What- they just made him sleep on the fuckin’ streets because of it?”

“It happens more than you think,” Susan said. “My aunts had to help a lot of magical children find places to stay because their families wouldn’t accept them.”

“Fuck that. I’ll be right back.”

Fred, Johnny, and Susan exchanged bemused looks as Harry quickly disappeared.

“Where’s he going?” Fred asked.

“Probably to kill Rastiff’s parents,” Johnny smirked. Susan shrugged, but Fred wouldn’t doubt it if Johnny was right.

The three of them watched the other students as they danced until Harry came strutting back up to them with a smug smirk on his face.

“Where’d you go?” Susan asked him.

“You’ll see,” Harry said evasively. “I’m bored. I can’t believe Draco and Blaise go to balls every year, this is terrible.”

“You guys wanna liven this party up?” Johnny grinned.

Harry still looked bored, but Fred saw his eyes light up as he looked at Johnny.

“What d’ya have then?” he asked.

Johnny reached in his suit trousers pocket and pulled out the neck of a bottle of alcohol.

“It’s vodka,” he said. “Won it off a Durmstrang kid in a duel.”

“Brill,” Harry said admiringly. Fred didn’t think Johnny was necessarily someone Harry should be admiring, because Johnny was trouble. But he did think that a little alcohol might be just the trick to make this night more interesting.

“Harry do your weird magic shit and put up a privacy shield real quick,” Johnny said.

Harry rolled his left wrist and effectively hid them from onlookers even as he scowled.

“It’s not ‘weird magic shit’,” he said. “You’re just jealous you can’t do it.”

“Dreadfully,” Johnny winked as he handed out the crystal glasses he’d just filled to the brim with vodka. “Cheers mate.”

Harry dispelled the shield and they all clinked their glasses together before taking long sips.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry sputtered. “That’s disgusting.”

“Tastes better when you mix it with something,” Johnny shrugged.

“Doubt it,” Susan muttered.

“Let’s make it a game,” Fred said. “How about every time Neville steps on Ginny’s feet we take a drink.”

“Or every time Ron checks the color of Parvati’s dress to make sure it’s the right date,” Susan grinned.

“Or every time someone comes up to talk to Harry,” Johnny added.

“Oh so we’re getting really drunk?” Harry asked. “Brill. Game on.”

The four of them were well on their way to utter intoxication within the next hour. Most of their drinks came from random students who brazenly came up and asked Harry to dance with them.

“Noooo,” Harry drawled rudely at the seventh request. “Fuck, are you blind?”

Fred, who thought vodka must be a bit stronger than firewhisky, lost his mind as the dejected Slytherin girl skunk away.

“You’re a menace,” Johnny laughed. “Just an absolute menace to society, Potter.”

“Ta,” Harry murmured as he looked around the room. He suddenly stiffened slightly as his eyes stopped on something.

“Look whose here,” he murmured. The rest of them all turned and looked in the direction where Harry’s eyes were set. Fred and Susan grinned slyly at each other as they saw Ludo Bagman chatting with Percy on the other side of the Hall. Johnny looked confused, but he didn’t miss the malicious look on Susan’s face either.

“We should go say hello,” Susan murmured.

“It would be polite,” Fred said brightly.

“Let’s do it,” Harry said.

“Wait!” Susan yanked on Harry’s arm and stared right in his eyes for a long moment. “What’s the worst possible scenario?”

“From saying hi?” Harry shrugged. “Snape see’s me, assumes I’m doing something mad, and yells at me.”

“No cursing him,” Susan said, somehow stern despite the alcohol coursing through her veins. “Nothing impulsive.”

Harry squinted at her suspiciously for a moment before he nodded and yanked his arm from her grasp.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I mean, a bit drunk,” he laughed. “But I don’t feel like I’m flying, do I?”

Johnny looked at Fred and raised a quizzical brow at that odd statement. Fred just lifted one shoulder in silent confusion. Harry sometimes said odd things though, that wasn’t unusual. Fred would just add it to his list of questions he’d eventually ask Harry.

“Let’s go then,” Susan linked her arm with Harry, forcing Fred to follow behind them with Johnny as they led the way to Bagman and Percy.

“Hello,” Susan called sweetly when they got close. “How are you Mister Bagman?”

Bagman had turned eagerly, then flinched heavily when he saw Susan and Harry arm in arm right in front of him. Fred had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. It really was a riot how terrifying the pair of them were. Even though Harry had grown quite a bit recently, he was still one of the shortest and scrawniest blokes in his year. And Susan was all feminine curves with deceptively innocent teal eyes. And they’d made a grown man flinch just from saying hello.

The long jagged scar on Bagman’s cheek probably had something to do with it as well though.

“Fine,” Bagman said with a nervous glance towards Percy, who was actually glaring at Fred. “H-How are you? Enjoying yourselves?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry raised his glass in a mock toast towards Bagman. “We were just talking about how much we’re looking forward to the second task.”

“Yes well...” Bagman’s comically wide eyes flitted from Harry to Susan to Johnny, who had picked up enough of the aura to stare balefully back at him with hooded eyes, before coming to a rest on Fred. “I’ll see you then,” he said as he looked back to Harry. “Before the task, like last time?”

“Brill,” Harry said, with only the slightest slur to his voice. “See that you do.”

Susan giggled and clutched on to Harry as Bagman quickly excused himself.

“You’re scary,” she breathed, sounding incredibly drunk. “Just... just a scary little thing.”

“‘M not little,” Harry said. “You’re little.”

Fred sighed at the childish argument between them then grimaced in annoyance once he noticed Percy watching them with a disapproving look.

“It’s called having fun Weasley,” Johnny sneered, also noticing Percy’s face. “You should try it.”

Percy adjusted his glasses and peered closely at their group.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked loudly. Too loudly. “Fred, I’ll be writing our mother if so.”

“You do that Perky,” Harry grinned. “Suppose you just have tons of proof then, yeah?”

“I can smell it on your breath,” Percy said.

“On my breath, duhh,” Harry laughed. “Dunno why you’d write Molly about me drinking though. But feel free to go tattle to Snape.”

Percy scowled, clearly out of his depth when it came to arguing with Harry.

Join the club, Fred thought gleefully.

“I might just do that,” Percy said stiffly. “I’m sure he’d like to know his child is consuming liquor underage at a school sanctioned event.”

“Go then,” Harry nodded his head towards wherever he thought Snape must be. “Snape’ll be real impressed. Might give you a point to Gryffindor.”

“I’m not a student,” Percy grit out, his red ears giving away his annoyance.

“You’d think you’d be more mature then,” Susan said with faux-surprise. “Shame.”

Johnny chuckled and eyed Susan with frank admiration, the same look Fred was probably giving Harry.

Those two were lethal together.

“I will be writing our mother and informing her of the company you keep,” Percy said as he looked at Johnny‘s suit, Susan’s dress, and the way Harry was wobbling the slightest bit. “It’s disgusting Fred.”

Fred was about to pull his wand out, when Harry beat him to it.

CRACK!

The nearby students fell silent as everyone in their vicinity turned to see Percy clutching his newly broken nose as Harry glared at him, his right fist clenched tight and his messy black hair crackling with anger.

“Say it again,” Harry said, the slur now gone as he voice turned to ice. “I dare you.”

“Whoops,” Fred saw McGonagall trying to push through the crowd and grabbed Harry carefully. “Time to go love.”

Harry surprisingly let Fred pull him quickly towards the exit to the decorated gardens, glaring over his shoulder at a shocked to silence Percy the whole time.

“We’ll catch you later,” Johnny winked as he pulled Susan in a different direction.

Fred was absolutely not going to ask what they had planned.

“Damn, I forgot my drink,” Harry said morosely as soon as they stepped out in to the cool moonlit garden.

“You’re a maniac,” Fred laughed. “You just hit my brother and you’re worried about your drink? Merlin.”

Harry glanced up at him and shrugged.

“Well I’m not gonna apologize,” he said stoutly. “He called us disgusting, didn’t he? He’s lucky my magic doesn’t listen well when I’m drunk.”

Fred wrapped a steadying arm around Harry and set them off along one of the rosebush lined paths.

“This is nice,” Harry said. “I thought since I was done flying that tonight would be terrible, but it’s been fun really.”

“Getting drunk, being harassed by fans, and fighting with Percy really made your night, huh?” Fred laughed.

“Threatening Bagman was good too,” Harry said. “And dancing with you wasn’t terrible. Even if there were too many people watching.”

“Nobody’s watching out here,” Fred winked and opened his arms in an invitation. “Would you care to dance with me Mister Potter?”

“Alright then,” Harry laughed and stepped closer.

Fred thought he could have spent the rest of the night out there, dancing with Harry in the dimly lit gardens.

So of course someone had to ruin it.

They had only been swaying together for a short time when they heard a familiar voice.

“...don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor.”

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!” as a boy went rushing after her. “And what are you two doing?” he added, catching sight of Harry and Fred on the path ahead. Karkaroff looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. Which made sense, since Harry said he was the vote against changing the rules for the Yule Ball.

“Dancing,” Fred said quickly, hoping Harry would keep quiet so Snape didn’t catch the alcohol on his breath. “We’ll just go inside then.”

“Stop.” Snape stared at Harry for a long moment before he sighed in the same way Fred’s mum did when he and George blew something up. “Have you been drinking and fighting Harry?”

“No sir,” Harry said slowly. “Not I.”

Fred ducked his head to avoid laughing outright.

‘Not I’, Harry was a riot.

“So it was a different Harry Potter that struck Percy Weasley in the nose? And who that same Weasley informed me reeked like alcohol?” Snape said acerbically.

“I imagine a lot of people would like to pretend to be Harry, he’s very famous you know,” Fred said seriously.

“Detention. Both of you,” Snape said. “Bed. Now. Separate ones.”

“Yes sir,” Harry saluted Snape rather sloppily and smirked at Karkaroff who was watching their interaction with a frown. “G’night then.”

Fred wiggled his brows annoyingly at Karkaroff before following Harry back in the castle.

“I suppose this is the end of our night Darlin’,” Fred said with a soft smile.

“Why?” Harry furrowed his brows. “I’m a bit too old for Snape to come check my bed, aren’t I? C’mon.”

Fred let Harry lead him down the dungeons and idly wondered how many times someone could fall in love with a person.

Surely there was a max.

Of course, this was Harry. And he was the master of the impossible- so maybe not.

***

The next morning when Fred, Harry, Susan, and Johnny were nursing hangovers at the Slytherin table and picking at their breakfast, Harry’s mystery errand from the night before was made clear.

“Oh my God,” Hermione began giggling like mad when she picked up the paper. “You guys!” She laid the paper flat on the table and they all tilted their heads to get a better glimpse.

And there it was.

On the front page.

Boy-Who-Lived Opens Yule Ball with Boyfriend: How the Hogwarts youth are bringing in a new era of acceptance.

And right beneath the headline was the full color photo of Susan looking stunning in her short and white tight dress, wrapped around Johnny in his sharp muggle suit and backwards cap. And beside them was Harry on a loop of leaning up to kiss Fred before turning a sparkling eyed smirk towards the camera.

“Oh, good. That cost me 20 Galleons to get published.” Fred turned a stunned face towards the most ridiculously brilliant person he’d ever met and watched as Harry took a casual sip of his coffee, as if he had no idea what this would mean to gay kids everywhere.

“Hey Mione, can I get a copy of that? I’m gonna send it to Lupin,” Harry said.

Frederick Fabian Potter, Fred decided as Hermione duplicated the paper for Harry.

There were plenty of Weasley’s anyway.

Chapter Text

Harry,
Thank you for that photo, Sirius has framed it in the middle of our living room. I think that it was incredibly courageous of you to do that. I’m sure it meant a lot to Fred as well.
How are your classes going?
France was beautiful, thank you for asking. Their culture is incredibly complex and diverse, a fresh change from the United Kingdom.
Here’s a new phrase you can use when speaking with Fleur:
‘Beau temps aujourd'hui’, it means ‘Beautiful weather today’.
Of course I’d recommend waiting until the weather is actual beautiful before using it. January seems determined to freeze us out. I prefer fall, the crisp leaves and fresh scents are soothing. Which season do you enjoy the most?
Have you worked any on the second task? It’s coming up next month isn’t it?
I look forward to your next letter,
-Remus

***

“You really do need to open that egg, the clue could take ages to work out!” Draco murmured to Harry as he read Lupin’s latest letter over his shoulder.

“Back off,” Harry snarled, irritated that his friends were all apparently aware of his new forced correspondence.

“He’s right you know,” Hermione said as Draco hastily scooted away. “Who knows what the clue will be? I’m sure it’ll be a much more difficult task, you should be prepared Harry.”

“Fine, fine,” Harry grumbled, silently agreeing with the bossy girl that he should be prepared, but refusing to do so out loud. “I’ll crack it open tonight.”

”We’ll open it tonight,” Susan smiled. “Team Potter.”

“Potter’s Gang?” Ron grinned.

“Potter Squad,” Neville laughed.

“Fuck offff,” Harry rolled his eyes at his friends. “We don’t need a weird name, I think the Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix are tasteless enough, aren’t they?”

“Besides,” Draco sniffed, “it’s called the Grey Alliance.”

“Call yourselves what you want, but if you wanna hear the clue, meet me in the Slytherin common room tonight. We’ll get dinner in there, yeah?”

His friends all agreed and they split up for their separate paths as the bell rang for classes. Harry, Blaise, Ron, Theo, Draco, and Susan headed to Transfiguration. Hermione, Neville, Fred, and Luna headed toward...

Actually, Harry had no bloody idea where they were headed.

He settled in his corner seat in Transfiguration and groaned along with the class when McGonagall flipped her board over and announced that today would be a lecture and that ‘they would do well to take notes’.

The classroom was filled with the prim and stern tone of McGonagall while she lectured and the scratching of quills, aside from Harry who was mostly doodling on his parchment, when Susan slid a note across the table they shared.

How are you feeling today?

Harry made a face at her and carefully replied.

Normal.

Ever since their ‘talk’ a week after the first task, Susan had been asking him at least once every couple of days how he was feeling. And it was fucking annoying...

Mostly.

Mostly annoying.

At least she was subtle about it.

~~~

“Harry I need to talk to you,” Susan said as she climbed right in Harry’s bed before the sun was even up one morning.

“Now?” Harry asked her, parchments spread across his quilt as he worked on a new project. Snape got mad when Harry tried to transfigure himself, so Harry was putting his extra energy towards joke items for Fred’s shop he’d open one day.

“Well you aren’t sleeping anyway, are you?” Susan asked. “Put up a privacy shield please.”

Harry rolled his eyes and dutifully put up a shield.

“We can’t kill Dumbledore yet,” he immediately said, having to have this talk with Susan more than once. “I know he’s annoying but we need a solid-“

“It’s not about that,” Susan waved one hand while she pulled a book out of her pajama robe pocket with the other. “It’s about this.”

Harry felt his stomach clench as he looked down at the book Susan procured.

“Psychology?” he asked quietly. “Why would we need to talk about that?”

“How long have you been sick?” Susan asked, ignoring Harry’s attempt to divert the conversation.

“Who said I’m sick?” Harry asked. Because if it was Theo, then Harry would kill him. And Snape would never tell anyone.

... probably.

“This does,” Susan tapped the book with her index finger a few times. “Manic-Depressive Illness. Did you already know?”

Harry decided that once he felt calm enough to read, he was going to read that damn book. He wasn’t sure he liked that someone read a description and immediately guessed that it was his problem.

Susan was watching Harry carefully and he crossed his arms defensively.

“Dunno what you mean,” he said airily. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Liar.”

Harry hated being called a liar, but when he was actually lying he figured he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. He just shrugged instead.

“Hey,” Susan’s voice was soft and Harry glanced at her face out of the corner of his eye. “You’re my best friend Harry James. My soulmate. You and I are going to be friends for our entire lives. Why are you keeping a secret like this from me?”

Harry kept his eyes now firmly on the hanging bed curtains and shrugged again. He didn’t want her to know he was sick, because then she’d know he was weak. People who were truly strong and not just faking it, people like Snape, didn’t need pills to fix their broken brains.

“You’re not weak,” Susan said firmly. “I know that’s what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. You could never be weak Harry.”

“Just broken then?” Harry snarled. “Poor Harry and his broken brain. He’s sick. It’s pathetic,” he spat. “And if you tell anyone I’ll kill you.”

Probably.

He wasn’t sure anymore that he could kill Susan.

But if she betrayed him then he’d make an honest go at it.

“Don’t be a dick,” Susan scoffed. “Did I say you were broken? Or pathetic? No. I said you could never be weak. Arsehole.”

Harry’s lip twitched at the fond way Susan swore at him.

“How long?” she repeated.

“A year?” Harry guessed. He’d probably had it since the summer before third year, according to Snape anyway, but he’d only started the medicine in February, so a year was a good guess.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Susan swatted his arm lightly, still causing Harry to frown at her. “No more secrets Harry.”

Harry thought of Lockhart, Avery, Nott, and his entire colorful past that was filled to the brim with secrets.

“We’ll see,” he quipped.

Which earned him another swat to the arm of course.

~~~

Not flying?

No.

Harry didn’t add that he wished he was. If depression was the punishment part of having Manic-Depression, then flying was the reward.

Are you drowning?

No mum, Harry wrote, earning himself a soft kick in the calf by Susan’s trainer.

Prat.

Git.

Has SS finished the potion?

Harry rolled his eyes at the desk at that. If anyone was being more annoying than Susan, it was Snape. He’d apologized, actually apologized, after their last private group lesson to Harry because he still needed to test the potion before he let Harry take it.

He would “never let Harry consume an untested potion,” apparently. Harry figured if Snape made it, then it was safe enough. But he also didn’t mind not taking the potion again so he let it go.

Week or so, he wrote, relaying the timeline Snape gave him.

Good. Tell me if you start to drown.

Harry grit his teeth and flipped her off before shoving the parchment in to the bottom of his bag.

He didn’t need another person asking about his ‘feelings’ and ‘moods’. Fuck. Between Snape, Theo, and Susan, Harry may never be left alone again.

Which caused him a peculiar warm feeling in his stomach.

Which then caused him to feel unnecessarily annoyed.

Ten year old Harry would kick my arse, he shook his head at himself. One of the top rules of being alone was to stay alone. Don’t get attached to anyone or anything. Everyone knew that the more things you owned and were attached to, the more things people could take from you.

And what had he done?

Gained a whole group of people that he would blow the whole damn world up if they were hurt.

Because he was stupid. And he’d gone soft. Which was annoying.

I should let ten year old Harry kick my arse.

Despite his friends incessant worries, Harry wasn’t really all that concerned about the egg. The first task was a little hazy in his memory (‘a side effect of the physical trauma and manic influence’ according to Snape), but it hadn’t seemed very hard. And he’d gotten first. So he was sure the second task would be just as simple.

“You guys ready?” he asked his friends once Luna had finally joined them in the common room that night and they’d hastily ate dinner together.

“Ready,” they said.

Harry dug his fingers in to the surprisingly malleable center of the egg and yanked it apart and open.

It was hollow and completely empty — but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” Neville panted, his face pale and his hands shaking. “It- it sounded like someone being tortured Harry.”

It did a bit.

“Nah, usually people Harry tortures scream a bit more brokenly,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Maybe a Banshee?”

“Orrrrr a mermaid,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, am I the only one who does any research on magical creatures?”

Harry glanced at Hermione and Theo before smirking at Draco.

“Do mermaids sound like bloody fingernails on a chalkboard?” Harry asked him.

“Above water they do,” Draco said in a tone that sounded like he barely left off the ‘you idiot’ addendum.

“So Harry has to fight a mermaid?” Blaise asked with a brow raised. “Seems like they’d have the unfair advantage if it’s underwater.”

“Yeah but he’d have a brilliant advantage above water,” Susan laughed.

“Why am I friends with you people?” Draco sighed theatrically. “The clue is in Mermish. You have to put the egg under water to listen to it.”

“Oooh,” the rest of Harry’s friends nodded and exchanged thoughtful looks.

That did make a bit more sense.

“Reckon I could go stick it in the lake and hear it?” Harry mused out loud.

“No Harry,” Hermione sighed. “You are not going to stick your head in the Black Lake in the middle of winter to listen to the clue.”

“You could just use a bathtub,” Theo smirked. “Probably a bit easier.”

Oh.

Yeah that was easier.

“Does Gryffindor bathrooms have a tub then?” Harry asked Fred.

“Are you kidding? We don’t even have as nice of showers as you guys!” Fred laughed.

“Mione? Sue?”

Both girls shook their heads regretfully.

“Black Lake it is then,” Harry shrugged and picked up the egg.

“You can’t go now!” Hermione cried. “It’s after curfew!”

Harry ignored her, stupid thing to say really when he owned an invisibility cloak and a magical map of Hogwarts.

“Ron, you wanna come with?”

“Me?” Ron looked surprised, but not displeased. “Why me?”

Harry shrugged again and kept up an impassive look. He wouldn’t admit it, but Ron had been hanging out with Draco and Blaise quite a bit, which was fair because Harry spent a lot of time with Fred, Luna, and Susan, but he (stupidly) missed one of the first friends he’d made.

“Figured the guy who followed me to fight a troll would wanna come on another adventure,” Harry smirked.

“Oh I’m in,” Ron jumped up.

“Can I go?” Draco asked. Luna put a small and consoling hand on his and shook her head with a soft smile.

“Harry misses Ron, he’ll do something with just the two of you soon,” she said.

Of course Luna would say something embarrassing like that in front of their whole group.

Harry stuck his tongue out at her and summoned his cloak and map.

“Tell us about it in the morning?” Fred asked.

“Maybe,” Harry hummed. He wouldn’t though. He wasn’t going to be the only champion who needed help with the tasks.

How could he prove he was the best if he had help on the tasks?

Harry pulled the map out and activated it, checking to make sure their path to the entrance was clear.

“We’re good, let’s go,” he murmured to Ron, throwing the cloak over them both and keeping the map in his hand.

Harry pulled on his magic and ordered it to silence their steps, and mask their scent, a mistake he’d learned from since Lupin had taught at Hogwarts. Ron stayed close to him as they left the common room and carefully made their way up to the entrance.

“Filch,” Harry breathed, spotting the caretakers dot in the corridor ahead of them. The boys quickly turned and took a different path, it was a bit longer, but free of any adults. When they finally made it to the doors, Harry held his breath as he slowly opened them.

You’d think they’d lock the doors, he mused. Of course, that was assuming Dumbledore gave a damn about safety at all.

“Over there you reckon?” Ron whispered, pointing towards a shadowy spot along the coast of the lake. Harry nodded and they headed that way, only mildly less concerned about making noise out here than they were inside the castle.

“You don’t think the Skrewts got loose again, do you?” Ron gulped and glanced towards Hagrid’s hut as Harry pocketed the cloak and map.

“Hope so,” Harry snorted. “They really aren’t so bad when you get to know them.”

Ron gave him a bewildered look that clearly said what he thought about that statement, but he kept quiet.

“Watch my back?” Harry asked, looking around carefully to make sure nobody was near.

“Of course.” Ron stuck his chest out proudly and held out his new wand he’d bought himself before school started when Neville bought his replacement one. He looked much like the guard Harry needed him to be in that moment.

Harry put a warming charm on himself before stepping out to waist level in the dark water. His clothes would be soaked, but it was bad enough he was about to be in a vulnerable position under water, he certainly wasn’t going to make it worse by taking his clothes off.

“Here goes,” Harry murmured. He lowered the egg under the water before slowly opening it. He and Ron both let out sighs of relief that the screeching noise didn’t happen this time, instead it was just air bubbles coming up from the egg.

Harry flicked his eyes around the lawns surrounding them once more before taking a deep breath and ducking beneath the water.

Harry immediately heard a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the open egg in his hands:

“Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you’re searching, ponder this:
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,
An hour long you’ll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour — the prospect’s black,
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

Harry burst up from the water, his lungs tight from staying beneath so long and furrowed his brows down.

“Did it work?” Ron whispered from the bank.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Hold on.”

He took another deep breath and went back under to listen again. He did this four more times until he felt confident that he’d memorized the whole thing.

Harry slowly moved up to the bank and immediately dried himself with magic before flopping down on the ground.

“Got any parchment?” Harry asked Ron.

Ron patted down the school robes he was still wearing and triumphantly pulled both a quill and a spare bit of parchment from his pocket.

“Pays to be a mess,” he chuckled.

Harry took the parchment and quill with a grateful nod and immediately wrote down the mermaids song.

“Gonna tell me what it says?” Ron asked as Harry tried puzzling it out.

“Nope,” Harry said. “Gotta do it alone or I won’t really win, will I?”

Harry looked again at the riddle and shook his head. It sounded like the mermaids were going to take something of his back to their home, probably in the lake, and if he didn’t get it in an hour then they’d keep it forever.

Which better be a fucking joke because if someone took his sword or his invisibility cloak then they were going to sorely regret it.

“Let’s go inside,” Harry sighed. “This is going to be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

Ron gave Harry another puzzled look but accepted the cloak Harry tossed over their heads. Harry opened the map back up and traced the route to their dorm.

“It’s clear,” he said. “Wait a second...”

Harry’s eye was drawn to the moving dot in Snape’s private office.

Bartemius Crouch.

Why was Crouch snooping around Snape’s office? Especially when he was supposedly too sick to come to the Yule Ball and had sent Fred’s annoying prat brother instead?

Harry felt anger boiling in his stomach as he considered Crouch in Snape’s office. Was he trying to find another excuse to arrest him?

“Let’s go, quick,” Harry said curtly as he began moving quickly towards the castle, Ron hustling to keep up with him. Harry kept an eye on the dot in Snape’s office and silenced them again to make sure Crouch wouldn’t be spooked off before Harry got there.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he whispered right in Ron’s ear once they made it to the common room entrance. “Tournament stuff,” he lied.

Ron nodded, accepting his story easily, and ducked out from beneath the cloak and in to the common room.

Harry kept his eye on Crouch’s dot as he made his way towards Snape’s office. Crouch left the office, but was luckily heading right towards Harry.

Harry turned the corner that would bring him face to face with Crouch and immediately stopped.

“Moody?” he said, ripping the now useless cloak off and staring at Moody incredulously. “What the fuck?”

“Out for a late night stroll, eh Potter?” Moody chuckled, his magical eye resting on the golden egg Harry had in his arm. “Working on that clue?”

“Why were you in Snape’s office?” Harry demanded. He wasn’t sure how the map had made such a mistake with the names, but he’d figure that out later.

“Auror’s privilege,” Moody growled with his creepy lopsided smile.

“What is going on here?” Snape hissed, quietly joining the pair as they stared at each other silently. Harry was still trying to figure out what Moody’s game was, and Moody looked as if he were thinking the same thing about Harry.

“Harry- why are you out of bed?” Snape asked. “Were you in my office?”

“Nope,” Harry broke his gaze from Moody and fixed it on Snape now instead. “That was Moody, wasn’t it? ‘Auror’s privilege’ he says.”

Even if Harry wanted to recruit Moody, he wouldn’t do it at Snape’s expense.

Snape pulled himself up to his full height and sneered down his nose at Moody.

“Interesting that you’d go searching my office, again,” Snape said coldly. “Dumbledore’s orders once more, I dare say?”

“No, this one was just curiosity,” Moody said with his own sneering tone that Harry bristled at.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Harry said evenly. “Won’t end well.”

“Harry,” Snape sighed as he turned from Moody to Harry. “Go to bed.”

“Once Moody leaves you alone I will,” Harry said as he continued to glower at Moody.

“I am not a maiden in need of defending,” Snape said. “Bed. Now. Before you receive a detention for being out past curfew. I will escort you.”

Harry nodded and kept Moody in his line of sight as he backed towards the corridor that would take him back to the Slytherin common room.

“Why are you out past curfew?” Snape asked him as soon as they were far enough away from Moody to not be overheard.

“Working on the egg,” Harry murmured, his mind still whirling with the map’s label for Moody. “Hey, wasn’t your friend named Bartemius Crouch? What happened to him?”

Snape didn’t do anything so obvious as blanch or flinch, but Harry could tell he’d somehow hurt him with his question anyway.

“He died in Azkaban,” Snape said stiffly. “After he was imprisoned for torturing Neville’s parents alongside Black’s cousin Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus Lestrange.”

“So he’s definitely dead?” Harry asked curiously. “Did you see his body at the funeral?”

“There was no funeral and I would prefer to change the subject,” Snape said. “Did you work out the clue for the second task?”

“Oh,” Harry looked down at the egg and shrugged. He’d have to go in the lake, find the mermaids, take back whatever they stole from him, probably kill them for taking his stuff, then get back before the hour was up. “Mostly yeah,” he admitted. He’d just need to find a way to breathe underwater for the hour time limit he had.

“Would be easier if everyone had let me figure out how to add gills to myself,” Harry muttered darkly.

Snape looked down at him when they stopped by the Slytherin entrance and raised a condescending brow.

“You believe it would be simpler to transfigure gills on to yourself than it would be to consume gillyweed and produce the same results?” he asked in a sarcastic tone that Harry didn’t quite appreciate.

“Damnit Snape!” Harry cried. “You aren’t supposed to help me with the task!”

Snape, inexplicably, began chuckling.

“Harry, do you truly think that the other champions are not utilizing the adults and peers in their lives for assistance with the tasks?”

Harry shrugged, if they wanted to lose even with cheating then that was their problem. But Harry wasn’t going to let someone say he wouldn’t have won without their help when it came down to it.

“No more helping,” he said firmly. “I want to prove I’m the best on my own, yeah?”

Snape shook his head, but smiled down at him.

“I have almost unshakable faith in your abilities,” he said before shooing Harry in to the common room.

Harry laid in his bed that night and thought over that statement.

He went to sleep still unsure if it had been a compliment or insult.

***

Lupin,
Write back quick- does the map ever make mistakes? Don’t give me any bullshit about how brilliant you lot were because you trusted fuckin Pettigrew, didn’t you? Just honestly- can the map be fooled?
-Harry

***

Sirius,
The Marauders Map- can it be tricked? I show up in my cloak, but is there any other reason someone would show up with the wrong name on the map? I don’t want to hear about how brilliant you think you are. I need a definite answer and I needed it yesterday.
-Harry

***

Mr Mulpepper's Apothecary Employees,
I would like to order as much gillyweed as you have in stock. I have attached a form that will automatically transfer the cost from my vault to the one for your store.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter

***

Pup,
The map cannot be fooled.
Not by invisibility cloaks, or polyjuice,
or even animagi.
We aren’t just bragging about our brilliance,
even though it is bloody brilliant.
We spent years testing it-
then years using it.
Why the sudden questions? Is everything okay?
Are you planning something crazy? Because if so I want to know about it.
Do not plan anything crazy. Severus would kill us all if you used the map and got injured in some way.
Damnit Pup, did you tell Snape about the map? It was supposed to be a secret!
Of course he did, idiot.
If I die one day, I will be telling your father young man.
Let us know if everything’s alright.
And if you’re pulling off another scheme like the Goblet.
-Remus and Sirius.

***

Harry was distracted through his classes the morning after he read Lupin and Sirius’ letter.

The map didn’t make mistakes.

And Harry had seen Moody and Crouch together when his name had been drawn from the goblet both at the Head Table that night, and in the private chambers later.

“Draco-“ he hissed suddenly in Charms class. “The day of the first task, Crouch was judging, was Moody there too?”

“Yes, why?” Draco whispered.

“Never mind,” Harry said.

So Moody and Crouch were together at least three times.

Harry kept checking the map, and all during the day ‘Bartemius Crouch’ was teaching classes in the defense classroom.

He also checked and saw that Moody was the only dot labeled wrong. And Greg and Vince both show up without the ‘Junior’ labels that Harry knows are attached to their names. So the map doesn’t specify Junior or Senior.

Snape had said that Bartemius Crouch Junior died in Azkaban.

But he also said there was no funeral.

And Snape didn’t think Alastor Moody was ever a Death Eater, but Harry was sure that whoever was teaching their classes absolutely was at some point a follower of Timmy.

“Susan,” he asked quietly in the library during their free period that day. “Bartemius Crouch Junior, he was a Death Eater, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, glancing over hesitantly towards Neville. “A scumbag too,” she added.

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

“Was his Dad ever a Death Eater?”

Surprisingly, it was Theo who laughed at that.

“Mister Crouch? No,” he said, with no real mirth in his eyes. “He hated Dark Wizards. He used to be mad about locking up every last one of them. He went completely insane when his own son was caught.”

“He sent his son to prison?” Harry asked, surprised. He didn’t have much experience with fathers, since his was dead, but Snape was kind of like a Dad he’d guess, and that man took a murder charge for him.

When he thought about it later, he realized that his own father had actually taken a killing curse for Harry as well. Which, as unhelpful as that currently was to Harry, was still a brave thing to do.

“Yup,” Neville cut in to their conversation and his typically warm eyes were as hard as Harry had ever seen them. “He sent him straight to Azkaban, where he belonged.”

“And where he died... but didn’t have a funeral?” Harry prodded.

“Why so interested?” Blaise suddenly asked, his golden eyes sharp as he leaned towards Harry and a sly smirk playing around the edges of his lips. “Are you planning on blackmailing Crouch for some reason?”

“Never hurts to have dirt on an enemy,” Harry quipped before falling silent on the subject.

It didn’t add up.

Either the map was wrong, which Sirius and Lupin swore it wasn’t, or...

Or Harry wasn’t sure really.

When magic came in to play, there were just too many possibilities.

His leading theory, based on the fact that he had personally seen Moody and Crouch together at least twice and Draco reported a third time, was that Moody was not Crouch Senior, but Crouch Junior.

The Death Eater who supposedly died in prison, but nobody saw his body at any kind of funeral. The Death Eater son of an arsehole father who sent him to prison, and who would absolutely call Timmy the Dark Lord.

Except... Snape made it sound like him and ‘Barty’ had been close friends. They studied together, and schemed together, and joined Timmy together. So if Moody was Crouch Junior, why was he always treating Snape so rudely?

It wasn’t outside Harry’s list of possibilities that Crouch Senior was the person impersonating Moody. Just because Crouch said he hated ‘Dark Wizards’ didn’t mean he wasn’t one himself. Harry had seen lots of cops talk about hating drugs and crimes, then see them smoking pot or committing crimes themselves back in London. But the problem with that theory was that if Crouch was impersonating Moody, then who impersonated Crouch on the occasions he had been seen together?

Also- where the Hell was the real Alastor Moody? Had he been here at all this year?

That last question Harry was almost positive he had an answer for- he was certain that whichever Crouch was impersonating Moody was the same person who had done so all year. Harry considered himself to be rather perceptive when it came to people, and he was sure that he would have noticed a behavioral shift if the Moody-Impersonator had swapped out at some point within the term so far.

But really, magic was brilliant. It made life easier, and made its users special, but damn if it didn’t complicate a good mystery. And now that Harry had worked out the second task, he had tons of time to consider this newest riddle he’d been handed.

By mid-February, Harry was no closer to solving the Moody Mystery, and was beginning to grow frustrated. He kept a close eye on him during classes, to the point where his friends were growing concerned.

“Feeling alright?” Theo asked him privately after another defense class that Harry spent watching Fake-Moody’s every move (and confirming multiple times with the map that the man’s dot was still labeled Bartemius Crouch).

“Fine,” Harry said absently, still analyzing the behavior and speech pattern of Fake-Moody to try and match it to his previous appearances before Harry found him by Snape’s office a couple of weeks ago.

“Hey,” Theo snapped his fingers until Harry focused on his worried face. “Snape still hasn’t finished that potion?”

“Nope.”

“Are you flying again?”

“No?” Harry said curiously, confused why Theo was even bringing that up. “Why?”

“You’re acting off,” Theo said bluntly. “You haven’t been talking much, and you’ve been obsessed with Moody and Crouch. Are you worried about the second task or something?”

Harry cocked his head to the side as he eyed Theo for a long moment, thinking quickly.

“Which is more likely to you- someone who is supposed to be dead isn’t, or Mister Crouch is a former Death Eater pretending to be an Auror?”

“The first one,” Theo said immediately. “But I think they’re both slim odds Harry.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed before pulling out the map and checking it again. He was so distracted by watching the man’s dot on the map that he didn’t even notice Theo’s last frown of concern before the other boy quickly ran off.

The next afternoon, Harry made his way to Snape’s classroom for his groups bi-weekly private lesson.

If it’s Crouch Senior, can he be recruited? If it’s Junior; can he be recruited or should I even try? He tortured Neville’s parents... but whoever it is is a fucking genius too. A genius with quick reflexes and who tricked the all-knowing Dumbledore himself...

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the emptiness of the classroom he’d walked in until he was already in front of Snape’s desk.

“Oh.” Harry looked around and mentally kicked himself for letting himself get so distracted that he just walked in a room without checking it first.

He probably wouldn’t make it five days on the streets anymore at this rate.

“Sorry sir,” Harry said to Snape, who was peering up at him from his desk chair. “I could have sworn we were meeting here today.”

“We are,” Snape said. “Though I cancelled your other misfits from making their usual appearance tonight. I would like to speak with you. Sit please.”

Harry slowly sat on the edge of his seat and took his time to look over Snape’s classroom carefully. The desks were all in position, which usually Snape cleared them away before their lesson. Nobody else was here... and now that Harry thought about it, nobody had even walked down with him.

“Are you manic?” Snape asked bluntly.

“No!” Harry growled. “Fuck. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Are you depressed? Having intrusive thoughts that are causing you hardship?”

“Nope.”

“Explain to me your recent changes in behavior then,” Snape said.

“What changes?” Harry asked. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That is what I would like to know.”

Harry ran back all his recent behavior and frowned as he tried to find the one Snape was upset about.

“I haven’t done anything,” he eventually said. “So I dunno what’s going on here.”

“You have been distracted, withdrawn, and quiet,” Snape listed of each apparent sin with a tick of his fingers. “I find myself worrying that you are ill.”

“I’m not,” Harry grit out. “Jesus. I’m just...” Harry studied Snape carefully while he tried to find a way to word his mystery without giving it away. If anyone found out about the Moody-Impersonator then they’d confront him and scare him off. And Harry wasn’t going to lose the opportunity to either recruit away one of Timmy’s followers, or have Crouch Senior arrested like he’d done to Snape.

“Do you think Mister Crouch, the one who worked at the Ministry, was ever either a Death Eater or a sympathizer?” he asked.

“No,” Snape shook his head. “I do not.”

“And you don’t think Moody was either?”

“Correct. I find the mere idea outrageous in the extreme.”

Harry frowned and tapped his foot in irritation for a moment.

“Well, I guess that’s that.”

“Will you be explaining to me your sudden obsession with Crouch and Death Eaters?” Snape asked shrewdly.

“No,” Harry slumped back in his seat. “Oh wait- I have one more question... were you and Barty friends all the way up until he supposedly died?”

“We were,” Snape said slowly. “And I have a great concern for your emphasis on the word supposedly. Harry, there is no bringing people back from the dead. You understand that, right?”

“Course,” Harry scoffed. “So there’s no reason that if Barty was here today, that he would hate you?”

“I suppose he would feel incredibly betrayed by my public shift in alliances,” Snape said in a tense sort of voice. “Harry, I only need another couple of days until your potion is ready. I wanted to ensure it had long-term safety and reacted well when consumed with other potions and spells. Can you promise me to do nothing impulsive for three more days?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape’s earnest ones and scowled when he finally put the pieces together.

“I am not manic,” he sneered.

In fact, he was a genius. Because Snape just gave him the last piece of the puzzle he was almost 90% confident he’d finally solved.

“It’s just...” Harry shrugged and decided to try and tell Snape a bit of the mystery he thought he just solved. Enough so Snape would quit thinking he was having ‘an episode’, but not so much that Snape would spook off Fake-Moody before Harry could decide what to do with him.

“Someone that everyone thinks is dead, isn’t,” Harry said. “And I think that someone everyone thinks is a crusader for justice, must have been the reason the dead guy isn’t dead. But there’s also polyjuice involved. So I wasn’t sure until now.”

The way Snape watched Harry once he’d finished slowly explaining part of the mystery told him that he didn’t sound as sane as he’d hoped.

“Never mind,” Harry sighed. “You don’t even believe me.”

“I believe that you currently believe that,” Snape allowed. “But no, apologies Harry, but you sound just as you did when you believed yourself capable of winged flight.”

“Piss off,” Harry rolled his eyes and hooked his bag over his shoulder. “I’m not manic, or mad. I’m right. You’ll see.”

“Three days Harry,” Snape called as Harry stormed from the office. “Please.”

Snape could sit there and question if Harry was sane or not all night if he wanted. Harry would prove himself to be right in the end.

And in the meantime, he was going to go talk to Fake-Moody.

“Professor Moody,” Harry called, using Susan’s polite tone as he knocked on the closed office door. “It’s Harry Potter.”

“Come in,” Fake-Moody (Harry checked the map just before knocking) had growled.

Harry checked his pockets one last time and felt his dagger from Black, his pocketknife from London, and two of his silver throwing stars in his pockets and a quick touch of his wrist reassured him that his dagger from the Malfoy’s was attached securely to his arm.

Harry kept his eyes focused on Fake-Moody as he slowly slid in the office. He refused to be distracted by the gadgets and trinkets surrounding him, almost as much clutter as Dumbledore had in his office. Instead, he kept a wary eye on Moody’s hands as he clutched his dagger in his pocket.

“What can I do for you lad?” Moody grunted, both his eyes fixed on Harry.

“Hmm,” Harry rolled his shoulders as he tilted his head to study Moody. “What do you know about Mister Crouch?” he asked.

Moody raised both his gnarled brows in surprise at Harry’s question.

“Put it this way, Potter,” Moody muttered finally, “they say old Mad-Eye’s obsessed with catching Dark wizards... but I’m nothing — nothing — compared to Barty Crouch.”

“Sent his own son to prison, didn’t he?” Harry watched Moody very carefully as he said that, and-

There it is.

Moody’s right hand twitched the slightest amount. It was so slight that anyone else may have missed it, but Harry didn’t. Harry had a habit of keeping an eye on people’s hands his whole life. Your hands were the first and best weapon you had. That level of vigilance had paid off more than once in his life- and it did again today.

“He did,” Moody said.

Harry tried to imagine having a parent who would send you to prison, instead of taking a killing curse or a murder charge for you, and his mind unwillingly drew up Vernon Dursley from its depths.

“I’d suppose that any father who sent his son to prison had to be even worse at home,” Harry said slowly. “You think he was a good father?”

“Old Crouch?” Moody laughed darkly, with no real humor to be heard. “No Potter. I doubt it. The man worried so much about his career and his image that he probably didn’t give a damn about his wife or son.”

“Yeah...” Harry looked grimly at Fake-Moody-Who-He-Was-Now-95%-Confident-Was-Crouch-Junior. “Shame nobody stepped in to help his son, yeah?” he said carefully. “If I’d known someone was treating their kid so badly, I would have stopped them.”

Moody’s magic eye quickly spun around before stopping abruptly and fixing itself on Harry’s face. Neither of them said anything for a long and tense minute.

Harry thought this was one of those moments where Blaise would say the tension was so thick Harry could cut it with a knife.

“Pity for the enemy, eh? That’ll make you weak,” ‘Moody’ eventually said.

“Not pity,” Harry sneered, insulted by the very idea. “But if Barty had been one of mine I never would have let his father get away with treating him like trash.”

‘Moody’ put his elbows on his desk and leaned towards Harry with a curious light in his normal eye.

“What would you have done?” he whispered harshly. “Tortured Old Crouch? Reported him?”

“Killed him,” Harry said calmly. “I would have killed him and let Barty be free on my side.”

And he still would if it meant he could recruit this man. Because if he was right, and like he’d said, he was 95% certain he was, then this guy was every bit the genius Snape once described him as.

And Harry wanted him on his team.

***

Lupin,
I’m so sick of everything I do being a symptom of some sort.
Harry’s quiet? Must be depressed.
Harry’s trying to figure out a complicated riddle? He’s manic.
It’s bullshit.
I haven’t done much this week really, I’m working on something but I can’t tell you much about it.
I’ve got the second task all figured out already. It was actually really easy. Kinda makes me wonder what the point of the age restriction was?
Classes are fine. I ignore most of the lectures since I can already do the spells and I don’t have to take written finals anyway.
-Harry

Chapter Text

“Snape?”

“Come through,” Severus called as cordially as he could to his activated floo. He remained seated in his chair though, he’d be damned if he’d stand up for Sirius Black.

Black stepped through the floo and immediately swiped ashes off himself straight on to Severus’ floor.

“Oh, sorry,” Black looked down at the mess he had made and cleaned it with a swipe of his wand. “I’m ready,” he said.

“You have taken the potion?” Severus asked skeptically. It had been nothing short of an absolute miracle to get Potter to acknowledge and treat his illness. Black accepting a potion Severus created, to treat an illness Severus had never heard him acknowledge, was perhaps the most fantastical story Severus had ever heard. Yet, Lupin had swore he had.

Not that Severus considered Remus Lupin to be a beacon of truth or honesty when it came to the actions of Sirius Black.

“Yeah, took it on the sixth, just like you said. And it lasts a month, right?”

“It does,” Severus peered at Black. “Forgive me for my skepticism, but as this trial must be successful to treat Harry, you are sure you took the potion?”

“Yes I’m sure,” Black stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes, somehow managing to look much like Potter himself. “You don’t have to trust me, but I’m not an idiot. Rem told me what he thought I had. And it made sense, you know? My whole family’s mad. I just feel bad that Harry had the bad luck to go and catch it from us.”

Severus refrained from snorting. Black may have easily accepted his diagnosis, yet he clearly had no true understanding of how mental illnesses worked.

“Have you experienced any side effects in the last two weeks since taking the potion?”

“Felt pretty nauseous for a couple of days,” Black said. “And-“ he held his left hand out and Severus saw as it trembled slightly, “that’s been going on since maybe day five?”

Damn.

Severus got up to more closely examine Black’s hand.

“Harry had a tremble in his right hand for about a month after he began the pills,” he mused out loud. “You will likely follow the same timeline. How many days, approximately, would you say you were nauseous and what level of nausea was it? On a scale of 1-10?”

“Got sick the first day I took it, until maybe day seven? It was rough. I’d say probably an 8, but it wasn’t constant.”

A week of severe nausea, a month of trembling in the hands. The nausea can be treated with another potion, the trembling must be endured. If Potter followed a similar timeline to Black though, the tremble would not appear until after the second task.

“Harry must have bypassed that side effect while he was comatose,” Severus said regarding the nausea. He went back to his desk and made notes on his parchment. “You took no anti-nausea potions? And you are able to cast with no changes?”

“No, no potions, just like you said. And yeah I’ve been casting fine.”

“I would like you to drink this.” Severus grabbed the pain-relieving potion on his desk and floated it to Black.

“Am I going to end up in St Mungo’s?” Black asked with a wary glance at the crystal vial.

“You should not,” Severus said evenly. “Harry’s poisoning was due to the interaction of the neurological influence of muggle medication not safely interacting with the magical properties of potions. Much like how muggle electronics do not work in areas of high concentrations of magic.”

Black nodded, then squared his shoulders and threw the potion back in one quick swallow. Severus watched very closely as he did this and after five minutes of Black shuffling uncomfortably under Severus’ intense gaze, Severus was pleased to mark it successful.

“Excellent,” he said. “One last test if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure, what-“

”Confractus,” Severus murmured with a tap of his wand to Black’s wrist.

“FUCK! Damnit Snape!” Black howled as he cradled his newly broken wrist. “Why the Hell would you do that?!”

“I need to ensure that healing spells will not interact poorly with the potion,” Severus smirked.

If it was a pleasant side effect of the test he truly did need to administer that he got to break Black’s wrist, then he would keep that to himself.

“You could have warned me,” Black growled.

“I could have,” Severus agreed. “Hold still now.”

“Brackium Emendo.”

Both men watched as Black’s wrist was healed. Severus checked the pallor of his face, his vitals, and the tremble in his left hand, and was pleased to mark it all as an overall success.

“Excellent. I will begin treating Harry today.”

As long as the little madman accepts the potion as he had agreed to.

“Awesome,” Black smiled and bounced on his feet. “Can I wait here and see him?”

“No,” Severus said shortly. “I will begin sending your potion along with Lupin’s every month. You may leave.”

“But...” Black stopped his annoying bouncing and his bright smile dimmed the slightest amount. “I have something for Harry. And I want to wish him luck with the next task, it’s in four days, isn’t it?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten very slowly.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Excuse me.”

Severus turned his back to Black and summoned his patronus, as he was rather unwilling to leave Black alone in his office.

“Harry, meet me in my office as quickly as you are able. Alone, if you would not mind.”

“Go,” he flicked his wand at the silver fox. “Go to Harry.”

Both men watched as the fox bound through the office walls in search of the child it was inspired by.

“Didn’t your patronus used to be a doe?” Black asked.

“It did.” Severus sat in his seat and prepared himself for the fight he expected from Potter. Two days ago the child was debating on if dead men could rise from the graves and if Crouch Senior had ever been a Death Eater. And although he had yet to pull any impulsively idiotic stunts, Severus was quite sure he was in a manic upswing. Which may make his acceptance of the potion much more difficult to gain.

“When did it change?” Black asked, apparently still discussing Severus’ patronus.

“I would prefer we wait for Harry in silence.”

“Fine,” Black shrugged and leaned against the fireplace.

The silence lasted all of a minute before Black began again.

“Sorry mate, I hate silence. So did Harry change your patronus or do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” Severus groaned. “You and I are not ‘mates’ and my relationships are my business.”

“So it was Harry. I knew it. Kid is kind of like a fox, isn’t he? All sly and sneaky, but adorable too, you know?”

Severus decided that ignoring Black would be his best course of action. He pursued his notes instead as Black continued to chatter away.

“Hey, Snape, did you hear me?”

Severus grit his back teeth together and looked up at Black.

“What?” he hissed.

Black hardly looked cowed at all. In fact, he looked entirely too comfortable speaking with Severus in his office.

“I said, did Harry know I was the trial patient for your experiment?”

“He did not,” Severus said. “Though he was already quite aware of your illness.”

“How?” Black asked. Severus would have scoffed if it were not for the genuine surprise in the man’s voice.

“I believe it was around the time you recommended he skip school to travel to Russia on a flying motorbike,” Severus said drily. “I should thank you, had it not been for your manic behavior that day, Harry may never have recognized the illness in himself.”

He would not thank Black, though he should. Brewing the Lithium potion for the man was as much of an acknowledgment as he would give him.

“Huh. Rem said that my moods are always up and down like a yo-yo,” Black slumped his shoulders and finally, blessedly, fell silent.

Severus reviewed the dosages he had calculated, taking in to account the weight differences between Potter and Black, and compared them one last time to the cloudy grey potion he had portioned out.

“I’m here!” Potter announced as he stepped through the office door, Theodore trailing behind him slowly.

“Excellent listening skills,” Severus snorted. “Perhaps you missed the part where I instructed you to come alone?”

“I didn’t,” Potter shrugged. “But I figured it was about the potion, yeah? And I’m sick of Theo asking me if I took it. So I brought him with.”

“Hey Pup,” Black called cheerily. “How are you?”

“Why-“ Potter glowered at Severus, “Why is he here?!”

“I was the test subject,” Black grinned. “We’re diagnosis twins, Pup. Plus I have something for you after you take your potion.”

Potter’s glower dimmed to something more akin to curiosity.

“You tested the potion?” he asked Black.

“Yep. And you’re going to be nauseous, but Snape’ll give you a potion for it.”

Potter and Theodore shared a quick glance, Theodore jerked his head in a short nod, and Potter shrugged.

“‘Kay,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

No fighting? No bargaining? No threats or deals?

Was this even Potter?

“You will only need to take this once a month, in my presence,” Severus said slowly. “Is this acceptable?”

“Acceptable,” Potter rolled his eyes as he mimicked Severus’ drawl.

Which was as effective as anything at proving his identity.

“Here,” Severus handed him the potion.

“Tastes terrible,” Black told him with an infuriating grin. “But it probably works if Snape made it.”

“Course it does,” Potter grumbled. “Snape’s a bloody genius.”

Severus pretended that comment did not boost his own moral at this expenditure.

“Cheers then,” Potter toasted the vial to Black and threw it down in one deep gulp.

Severus released a deep sigh at the ease of which Potter accepted the potion. He truly had expected a spat to come before this.

“Ugh,” he shivered. “Disgusting.”

“A taste you will only suffer through once a month,” Severus said. “Here,” Severus handed him a shrunken case of half a dozen anti-nausea potions, “take no more than one every twelve hours. If you require more, inform me immediately.”

Potter nodded, but it was Theodore that caught his eye. Severus had little doubt who would be monitoring the times Potter took those.

“And here,” Black thrust a badly wrapped package towards Potter. “I got you something.”

“Why?” Potter asked, eyeing the package cautiously.

“Because you’re going to feel like garbage tonight and I figured it might cheer you up,” Black shrugged with a grin. “And technically we purchased it, so it’s not a big deal.”

Potter seemed to accept this reasoning, which actually was clever of Black to use as begrudgingly as Severus would admit to such a thing, and slowly opened the package.

Which was a damned knife.

Another damned knife.

“I’ve already got a pocket knife,” Potter said as he gently traced the sapphire blue handle.

“This ones magic,” Black said. “It can cut through any knot and undo any lock.”

Black is an irredeemable oaf.

“Brill,” Potter’s eyes lit up and even Theodore looked interested. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess,” Black laughed. “I should get going though, Moony’s waiting on me. See you in a few days Pup?”

“For what?” Potter looked up from the knife curiously.

“The second task Harry,” Theodore sighed. “It’s in four days.”

“I know that,” Potter sneered. “I don’t know why he’s coming though.”

“To cheer you on of course,” Black said. “Especially if you’re going to be charging another dragon with a sword.”

Which Severus prayed to Merlin, Muggle God, and Lily Evans would not be the case.

“You’ll probably be pretty bored this time,” Potter smirked. “But sure, see you then.”

Severus waited until Black left, with last wishes of luck to Potter and a polite goodbye to Theodore, before he remarked on that odd comment.

“Why do you believe the spectators will be ‘bored’ during the second task?”

“You don’t know what it is sir?” Theodore asked him.

“I do not,” Severus admitted. Albus had been disturbingly tight lipped about the tasks around him. He had tried to pry it from Minerva during the tea time last week, yet she too was unaware of the upcoming challenge. “Harry, have you worked it out?”

“Yup,” Potter said with a smug smile.

“You are certain?”

“Yessss,” Potter said slowly with an irritated scowl. “I figured out the clue, and I’ve got a whole plan for it too.”

“If you have already devised a plan, it would not be considered cheating if you shared it with me,” Severus cajoled him.

It was still remarkable that Potter was concerned with ‘cheating’. Potter didn’t give a damn about rules when they pertained to his safety, yet if it collided with his image of a lone and powerful victor, then suddenly he would follow them.

Potter looked around the room as he thought this over.

“Pleaseee?” Theodore asked. “You still made the plan by yourself, we won’t even tell you if it’s a bad plan.”

Severus absolutely would not agree to that stipulation. If Potter’s plan put his life in danger then he would use every ounce of cunning he possessed to change the foolish child’s mind.

“Alright, fine,” Potter finally huffed. “But this is my plan so no comments, yeah?”

Theodore nodded eagerly while Severus tilted his head in acknowledgment of Potter’s request. Not agreement, but acknowledgment.

“So the mermaids are going to take something important of mine, I figure my sword or my invisibility cloak, and then I have an hour to swim to their house, which Hagrid says is in the middle of the Black Lake, and then take back my item. Ta da!”

Severus and Theodore both gaped at Potter.

“Yeah that will be boring to watch,” Theodore eventually scoffed. “At least it’ll only last an hour.”

“The Black Lake... in February...” Severus breathed. “What the Hell is wrong with Albus?!”

“I can use a warming charm,” Potter shrugged. “And gillyweed lasts an hour, but I’m gonna bring extra in case I go over the time limit. But it’ll be dead easy. Mermaids are afraid of magic, yeah? That’s what the book says. So I tested it and my magic works underwater, kind of, so it’ll be easy. It’s just bullshit that they’re going to steal my stuff.”

“The riddle specifically said they will take something valuable of yours?” Severus asked.

“Yup. Something I’ll ‘sorely miss’. So probably my sword.”

Severus and Theodore both snorted at that.

Only Potter would consider a sword to be the most valued of his belongings.

Severus carefully considered Potter’s plan and found no real concerns with it, it was a decent enough plan to accomplish the task.

“Very well,” he said. “I believe your plan is nearly foolproof. Though I would recommend-“

“AHT!” Potter interrupted him with a stern look. “No helping.”

“Brat,” Severus sighed. “Go. Inform me if you experience any severe side effects.”

“‘Kay, see ya later,” Potter called as he turned and left the office. Theodore stopped in the doorway and turned to Severus.

“What was that bit of advice you were going to give him?”

“He should take his wand, the merfolk will be more afraid if he simply brandishes his wand than if he casts weakened spells underwater,” Severus said quietly.

Theodore nodded and left.

Severus thanked whatever Gods were available for Theodore Nott’s place in Potter’s life.

***

Over the next few days Severus watched Potter carefully during meals and classes.

He appeared... normal.

Well, as normal as Potter ever appeared.

He still seemed distracted, and quieter than usual, but perhaps Severus had been wrong and he had been entering an episode of depression?

Regardless, within a couple of weeks his moods would stabilize.

Severus added the dates that Potter and Black would need additional doses to the datebook that listed the full moons. Potter would receive his on the 20th of every month, Black on the 6th. Severus also copied his recipe down multiple times and placed them in multiple safe locations, one being his personal vault, and one he mailed to Lupin. It would do Black and Potter no favors if Severus were incapacitated in some way in the future and they were unable to receive their needed medicinal potion.

Not that Severus was concerned with Black, but as he would undoubtedly take over as Potter’s caretaker if Severus was unable to do so, then he would need all the help he could get.

Pleased with his overall success with the Lithium potion, Severus turned his research and experiments towards a potion to treat depression. A much simpler task overall. Many of the properties of the Potion of Euphoria would be cross-brewed and altered to actually change the chemical responses in a brain, as opposed to the temporary film the Potion of Euphoria placed over the mind.

When Severus summoned Theodore one evening to take his weight and measurements, he was further pleased to hear that although Potter was experiencing drastic waves of nausea, it was being immediately nullified by the potions he had provided.

Truly, despite the ongoing tournament, the ever darkening mark on his arm, and his consistent worry for his ward, Severus had scarcely ever enjoyed such a period of peace since Potter entered Hogwarts as he did the couple of days after administering Potter’s potion.

Which, of course, was why Albus God Damned Dumbledore ruined it.

***

“Severus! Come in!” Albus called happily when Severus responded to his abrupt summons the evening before the second task. “Have a seat!”

Severus acknowledged Pomona, Olympe, and Igor with a curt nod of his head before taking the open seat Albus gestured towards.

“You requested me?” he asked.

“I did,” Albus beamed. “I need your help, who would you say Harry is the closest to?”

“Besides yourself of course,” Pomona said with a kind smile.

“Why?” Severus asked, an uneasy feeling twisting his stomach. With the presence of the other Professors, if Igor could be called such a title, this meeting was undoubtedly regarding the second task happening tomorrow.

Severus thought quickly through what Potter knew of the task as he tried to consider why Albus would be asking such an odd question... Potter said that something ‘valuable’ would be taken from him, which he believed to be either his sword or his fathers cloak. Surely... surely they hadn’t meant a person.

“For ze second task,” Olympe said. “Zey will be retrieving ‘ostages.”

“You’re putting human hostages in the bottom of the lake?” Severus asked incredulously. “Have you all gone mad?!”

“They will be perfectly safe Severus,” Albus said with an infuriating twinkly eyed smile. “I’m heartened that you care so deeply for your students. But rest assured, I do as well. No harm will come to any of them.”

“Potter will not think so,” Severus warned him. “He will be furious.”

Potter may actually snap and kill Albus.

“No harm will come to Harry’s friends,” Albus repeated, as if that would prevent Potter’s fury. “But we need someone. Someone invaluable to Potter.”

“Who is Mister Diggory using?” Severus asked Pomona.

“His girlfriend, Miss Chang.”

“And your students?” Severus asked the foreign Headmasters.

“Viktor will be using the young woman he took to the Ball, I believe her name is Katie Bell,” Igor sneered. “He said that Potter was his closest friend, but we obviously couldn’t choose him.”

“Fleur said ze same zing,” Olympe said with a soft smile. “She said zat ‘Arry is ‘er closest friend ‘ere. So we shall be using ‘er seester instead.”

Trust Potter to have created such strong allies with the two powerful foreign competitors.

“Would Mister Fred Weasley be acceptable for Potter’s hostage?” Albus asked.

“I said Miss Bones would be better,” Pomona said.

“I...” Severus had never wished so hard that he was not the Head of Slytherin. How dare they put this decision in his hands?!

“I am unsure,” he stalled as he desperately tried to think of which friend Potter would be least furious to discover in the bottom of the lake.

The answer was none of them. Potter was possessive and protective of his misfits, he would undoubtedly be infuriated to find even Frederick’s twin brother in the lake.

Ultimately, the decision was taken right out of his hands with a small knock on Albus’ door.

“Come in,” Albus called merrily.

The five adults all watched as the petite Miss Lovegood waltzed in to the office.

“Professor Snape, you were looking for me?” she smiled brightly at him.

Severus stared at Miss Lovegood and felt his anxiety for the upcoming task triple. He had no idea how Miss Lovegood knew of his current predicament, though he was beginning to question the possibility that Lovegood was a true seer.

Lovegood would be an acceptable hostage, as, out of all his friends, Potter treated her the most tenderly. Miss Bones even firmly believed that Potter loved her.

Yet, he hardly wanted Potter in the lake, let alone the charming young witch who Severus had been considering offering an unprecedented apprenticeship to upon her graduation.

And Potter would would absolutely furious with him to discover what he would see as nothing less than an utter betrayal.

“I’ll tell him it’s my idea,” Lovegood smiled gently, guessing at Severus’ exact (deeply occluded) thoughts. “Don’t worry.”

“Delightful!” Albus cried, unflappably accepting of the odd appearance and voluntary placement of Miss Lovegood. “Luna my dear, why don’t you head down to Professor McGonagall’s office? The other’s are waiting there.”

“Yes sir,” Lovegood smiled and floated out of the office as abruptly as she first appeared.

“Well, that’s that then,” Albus smiled. “We’re all set for the task tomorrow.”

Severus was not ‘all set’. In fact, he may as well contact Lucius now because Potter was going to lose any composure he has built recently once he discovers this.

And Lucius would be the only one to keep his ward out of Azkaban once Potter publicly murdered Albus Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

“Eat,” Susan snapped for the fiftieth time since Harry sat down at breakfast.

“I’m eating,” he growled, stabbing a sausage with annoyance.

“Tell us what the task is,” Neville asked again.

“You’ll see soon,” Harry said.

“Not really,” Theo snorted, being the only one aside from Harry who knew what the task was.

Not that Harry was entirely sure anymore... He’d checked all his belongings before he dressed and came to breakfast, and they were all still there. His cloak, his sword, all his knives, the prophecy in his trunk, even the photos he had of his friends, Snape, and his parents.

Plus, he had woken up to another jar of gillyweed on his nightstand table. A jar that Harry hadn’t purchased.

He had accidentally purchased an outrageous amount though. Apparently ‘all the gillyweed the Apothecary had in stock’ was quite a bit of gillyweed. He’d taken out three doses, and boxed the rest to give to Snape for potions.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Fred asked him.

“FUCK! I am ready!” Harry yelled, annoyed at all the coddling. “I have my wand, two knives, my ingredients, and I will hex the next person who asks me if I’m ready!”

“We’re just worried,” Hermione said softly. “You’re our friend Harry.”

Terrific. Coddling and guilt trips this morning then.

Harry slumped in his seat and gave Hermione his best attempt at a kind smile.

“Mione, I will be fine. This one really will be easy.”

“You said that about the dragon,” Ron said.

“And look how that turned out,” Harry told him.

“You unconscious on a hospital bed?” Blaise drawled.

“No,” Harry had to focus on clearing his mind to get his jaw to unclench. “I won, didn’t I? And I’ll win again today.”

Harry looked around the Hall again, searching for Luna. She was usually one of the first ones to breakfast, and it was nearly ten now. She also hadn’t slept in his dorm last night, which was odd, because she had the night before the first task and Harry considered it a tradition.

“Mione, will you go wake up Lue?” he asked. “Or give me the password and I’ll do it.”

“I’ve told you a million times, it’s a riddle you have to solve,” Hermione sighed. “But yes, I’ll go find Luna.”

“I’ll walk you,” Theo told her.

“Harry darling, should I begin walking you to all your many locations?” Fred asked, batting his eyelashes like crazy.

“Piss off,” Harry laughed. “Theo’s just being nice.”

They all lapsed in to a tense and awkward silence as they waited for either Hermione and Theo to return with Luna, or for Harry to be summoned by Snape.

Harry groaned out loud when Snape approached him.

“Can you wait five more minutes? Please? You’re early anyway,” he pleaded. “Lue will be upset if I go without seeing her first.”

Snape’s expression didn’t change, but Harry sensed a slight tightening in his shoulders.

“I am afraid not,” he said stiffly. “Allow me to walk you to the lake.”

“Damnit,” Harry grumbled. “Fine.”

Susan and Fred both gave him tight hugs and the rest of his friends wished him luck.

“Tell Lue I’m sorry and I swear I’m fine and I’ll see her afterwards, okay?” he told Draco urgently. “Don’t let her be upset, got it?”

“Got it,” Draco said seriously. “Focus on you, we’ll take care of Luna.”

None of the students noticed the flash of guilt in Snape’s eyes behind them.

“You will not be changing your plan?” Snape murmured as he led Harry out of the castle.

“No,” Harry rolled his eyes, resigned to one last round of coddling. “It’s a good plan. You didn’t need to send me more gillyweed this morning.”

Snape paused in his steps and looked down at Harry.

“I did not send you gillyweed Harry, you are of course bright enough to know better than to consume an ingredient from an unknown source?”

“Course I am,” Harry scoffed. If Snape hadn’t sent it, who did?

“Maybe Lue or Moody did...” he mused.

“Why would Professor Moody send you gillyweed?” Snape asked as the neared the beach where a dock and stands had been added.

“Dunno, but he tried to help me the first time, didn’t he? I think he’s warming up to the idea of my gang.”

He had seemed much more interested in Harry since their thinly veiled conversation anyway. Not that Harry’s interest in him had lessened at all. In fact, he was pretty sure that he’d even timed out when he took his dosages of Polyjuice and he was 98% confident they were coming from his hip flask.

Snape sighed but said nothing as they stepped on the dock.

“Listen to me,” Snape put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and looked seriously down in to his eyes. “No matter what you encounter within the lake, I need you to keep your composure, do you understand me?”

Harry cocked his head to the side at that odd bit of advice.

“What d’you reckon I’ll find down there?” he asked curiously. “I’ve done a ton of research, it’s mostly just a water creatures and stuff in there. I don’t think any of it will be a real challenge.”

“Harry...” Snape looked suddenly uneasy and it made Harry’s hair stand practically on end. What would cause Snape to be uneasy about the task?

“It’s Miss Lovegood,” he sighed. “Miss Lovegood was the thing you would sorely miss.”

Harry froze.

Miss Lovegood.

Luna.

‘We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss.’

Luna.

His Luna.

“YOU LET THEM TAKE LUNA?!” he snarled, releasing his dagger from its holster to his hand. “SHE’S IN THE FUCKIN LAKE?!”

”Composure, Harry,” Snape hissed as he quickly led Harry away from the nearby judges. “Keep your composure. She is safe, I swear-“

“Fuck you,” Harry spat, his vision being overtaken by a red haze. “You let them take her?! YOU LET DUMBLEDORE TAKE MY LUNA?! SHE COULD DIE SNAPE!”

“She volunteered,” Snape said. “She knew you needed a hostage and she volunteered. Who would you have rather be taken?”

“Anyone!” Harry howled. “You could have volunteered! You’re a grown adult! Or... or Black! Fuck, why didn’t you tell them I’d sorely miss fuckin’ Lupin?! ANYONE WOULD BE BETTER THAN LUE!”

“Shut up you little madman,” Snape whispered harshly. “Shut up and breathe Harry. Miss Lovegood volunteered. Would I have allowed her to take this position if I were not entirely confident of both her safety and your ability to save her?”

“Clearly you did,” Harry hissed. “If there is one hair hurt on her head then I’m going to kill you all, I swear to God.”

“As I presumed you would,” Snape said calmly, apparently too used to Harry’s death threats to be concerned. Which was a mistake, because if Luna wasn’t 100% healthy, safe, and able to be retrieved- Harry and Susan both would kill every person involved in putting her in the lake.

“‘Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back’,” Harry recited in a whisper, his rage shifting to abject terror. “Snape... if I don’t get her within an hour she’ll die.”

“Harry, listen, please,” Harry turned his suddenly horror filled eyes to Snape’s calm black ones. “Do you truly believe that I would ever allow Miss Lovegood to be placed in true mortal danger? No-“ he stopped Harry when he opened his mouth to argue that point. “Think logically Harry. It is merely a line meant to scare you, none of the hostages will die. I swear this to you Harry.”

“Vow it then,” Harry croaked, imagining Luna floating face down on the lake... lifeless... “Swear she isn’t going to die.”

”Vow on your magic that if Lovegood is safe at the end of the task, you will not harm anyone,” Snape countered with quickly.

Harry didn’t want to because he could feel his fury boiling in his blood, he could feel his magic itching to release itself on the person who did this, but... but he needed to hear Snape vow that Luna would live.

Save Luna first, kill Dumbledore later, he decided, prioritizing Luna’s safety over his immediate revenge.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my life that if Luna Lovegood is alive, healthy, safe, and recovered from the lake today that I will not harm anyone for using her as a hostage... today.”

Harry vowed on his life instead of his magic like Snape requested, he’d rather be dead than lose his magic. And he wouldn’t vow not to harm anyone over this in general, because he was going to kill Dumbledore for this, along with his many other reasons. But if Luna was safe, then he didn’t have to do it today.

Snape glanced around to ensure their continued privacy before he immediately raised his wand.

“I, Severus Tobias Snape, swear on my magic and my life that no matter how long Harry Potter takes to retrieve Luna Lovegood during the second task today, she will not die if it is past an hour.”

Harry felt his anxiety lessen at Snape’s swear, though he could still picture Luna’s body in the back of his mind.

“Kids drown all the time,” he whispered. “They used to fish them out of the river in London. Can Luna even swim?!”

Snape groaned and looked over his shoulder where the other competitors were now lining up.

“As horrifying as that unhelpful memory is, I doubt if Lovegood is unable to swim. The girl practically lives in a forest.”

Harry nodded absently.

“Who exactly planned this?” he asked. He was certain it was Dumbledore, but he needed to know precisely who all would bleed for this mistake.

“The Headmasters, none of whom you will be killing today,” Snape said severely. “I mean it Harry. You have vowed it to me.”

“And I’m vowing now that if Lue is hurt I’ll do what I fuckin’ please,” Harry said. “Dumbledore better pray she’s safe. Because if not, he’s a dead man Snape. I gotta go line up, I’m wasting time here.”

Harry squared his shoulders and stormed away from Snape. He liked Snape, but Snape should have volunteered. Snape would never let himself drown, but Luna...

Luna was just so tiny. And frail. And gentle. And sweet.

And he didn’t even know if she could fucking swim.

“Harry! Just on time!” Bagman cried when Harry lined up beside Fleur. “Can I talk to you-“

“No,” Harry said shortly, pulling his robe off to expose his long sleeved shirt and ‘exercise trousers’ he’d borrowed from Blaise. “Give me the gold and piss off.”

Bagman tittered nervously as he subtly handed Harry a bag of Galleons.

“Good luck then,” he said as Harry buried the bag in his robe pocket.

”Stay,” Harry waved his hand over the bag and attached it to his robes. He attached his robes to the dock for good measure, then checked his pockets one last time.

Three dosages of gillyweed? Check.

Enchanted dagger from Malfoy? Check.

Magic penknife from Black? Check.

Wand? Check.

Harry was as prepared as he could be, and he felt a brief flash of gratitude that his friends had irritated him in to preparing for the task early.

“You know it’s a person, yeah?” he murmured to Fleur.

“Eet eez what?!” Fleur cried, turning wide and terrified blue eyes to Harry. “Zey took people we would miss?”

“Yup,” Harry kicked his shoes off and pulled off his socks. “Need a warming charm?” Keeping Fleur from getting sick wasn’t going to give her any sort of advantage, but it did seem like a charming thing to do while he waited to go save Luna.

“I will do eet,” she said, her chin stuck out stubbornly. “And eef I make eet to ze ‘ostages first, I will save yours.”

Harry turned his head and studied Fleur with surprise.

“Same then,” he said. “I know mines a pretty blonde witch named Luna. Kill anyone who tries to stop you, yeah?”

“I will,” Fleur nodded and Harry felt a bit more anxiety melt from his body.

He didn’t plan on letting anything stop him from getting to Luna, but knowing Fleur would save her if he couldn’t was an undeniable boost.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle,” Bagman suddenly yelled, his voice magically amplified across the lake to the spectators and champions. Harry hastily applied a warming charm to himself and gripped the gillyweed in his pocket. “They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!”

Harry shoved the slimy gillyweed in his mouth and swallowed it in three quick chews as he ran in to the lake. He couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t take his time.

He had to save Luna.

He was waist deep when he felt it kick in. Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck —

Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air... He had gills.

Harry dove in the water and began kicking and paddling as hard and fast as he could.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of himself for a split second and examined them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet — they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

Harry struck out once more, idly marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.

Luna was the only thought in his head. The image of her lifeless body floating face down in the lake, her long blonde hair an eerie halo surrounding her, the only image he could see.

He had to hurry.

He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of Luna, any of the other champions, merpeople, — not even the giant squid.

Harry kept swimming as hard and as fast as his new flippers could take him. When he’d carefully asked Hagrid about the presence of mermaids in the lake, he’d told him they were in the middle of the lake in the very bottom.

So that’s where he needed to go.

Harry was focused on his goal, and trying not to picture all the horrible things that could be happening to Luna, that it caught him completely by surprise when something grabbed his leg.

Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry’s leg, its pointed fangs bared - Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and grabbed his dagger from Malfoy. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry’s trousers, and were attempting to drag him down.

“Piss off!” Harry shouted, except that no sound came out... A large bubble issued from his mouth, and he slashed at the demon with his knife as hard as he could given the odd angle. The little grindylow let out a loud shriek and let go of Harry’s leg as green ooze poured from the spot Harry’s dagger cut it right on the side of its neck. Harry kicked away as hard as he could, his dagger still brandished. When he turned to check if they were following him, he saw the now dead grindylow floating away, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry before sinking back in to the seaweed.

Harry peered around in the oppressive darkness and saw that a bit of light could be seen behind him, but none in front of him. So he kept swimming in the direction away from the light.

Which seemed like a terrible omen, but he would have a 2-1 showdown with Timmy and Dumbledore if it meant saving Luna.

Excellent job staying unattached, he snorted to himself as he swam quickly. You knew if you started to make attachments, someone would try and take them. And they did. Now Luna’s in the bottom of a lake filled with dangerous creatures because you just had to get attached.

Harry shook his head as he swam ahead for what felt to be at least another twenty minutes before, finally, the lights began shifting. At long last, he heard a snatch of the haunting mersong.

”An hour long you’ll have to look, And to recover what we took...”

Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

”...your time’s half gone, so tarry not, lest what you seek stays here to rot...”

Over Harry’s dead fuckin’ body.

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces... terribly hideous faces.

Harry had kind of assumed that mermaids would be prettier, but clearly that was a bullshit muggle concept.

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of seaweed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Luna.

Luna was tied to the stone, smack dab between that twit Cho Chang and Fred’s teammate Katie Bell. On the other side of Katie was another small and frail looking girl with silver hair. She had to be related to Fleur in some way.

All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry sped toward the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong.

Not as strong as the penknife Sirius gave him.

Harry cut through Luna’s ropes easily and swore to himself he’d find something nice to do for Sirius for the gift.

Luna floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of Fleur, and he’d promised to save her hostage if he got here first. He turned back to the little silver haired girl, raised the penknife, and began to hack at her bindings too —

At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from the girl, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

“You take your own hostage,” one of them said to him. “Leave the others...”

“FUCK OFF!” Harry snarled, swiping at the hands touching him with the knife. The mermaid let go of him, but kept laughing at the air bubble that left Harry’s mouth instead of his curse.

“Your task is to retrieve your own friend... leave the others,” the merman that seemed to be in charge said with a leering smile.

No chance of that. He’d given Fleur his word.

Harry quickly grabbed one of his throwing stars and made his magic guide it to the center of the merman’s chest.

”I’m taking her,” he hissed, uncaring if the bleeding merman understood his exact words or not. Everyone understood pain, it was a global language. And the way the merman bared his teeth and yanked the star from his chest, even merfolk spoke it.

The merman threw Harry’s star away, and Harry saw as it sunk to the bottom of the lake. He wasn’t going to waste time going after it, he had half a dozen more in his dorm. But if the merman was going to take Harry’s weapon then-

”Ta,” he murmured with a cold smile as he summoned the sharp spear straight from the merman’s hand to his own.

The merman let out a high pitched shriek of anger and made to move at Harry. Harry quickly pulled his rarely used wand out for effect, Theo swore merfolk were terrified of wands, and pointed both the wand and spear in the merman’s face.

“I take them both, or I kill you,” he said, exaggerating the lip movements to be sure they understood him. “Back up.” Harry held up three fingers, a real feat to do while keeping hold of his wand with the other two fingers. “One,” he put a finger down and smiled cruelly. “Two,” he put another finger down. “Three-“

They scattered.

Harry still sent a burst of green light towards the one that grabbed him, but he couldn’t wait around to see if it struck its target or not.

Harry darted forward and held the spear in his mouth as he began to cut at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue. Until, at last, she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed Luna carefully around the waist as well, and kicked off from the bottom.

It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Luna and Fleur’s hostage were like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down... He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was still so dark.

Harry focused on seeing Luna’s green tinted face be alert and covered in sunlight and that determination led him to kicking his way up to the surface.

Harry watched Luna’s face closely as he silently cast a Finite Incantatem on himself to lose the gills and fins.

“You did it!” Luna cried happily as she opened her eyes and stared around in wonder. “And you saved Fleur’s sister and got a spear too!”

Harry turned his head and saw that the girl did resemble Fleur incredibly closely now that her eyes were open and just as blue as Fleur’s were. Her eyes were more fearful than Harry had ever seen Fleur’s though, and fixed on the spear that Harry hastily shifted to the hand clutching Luna.

“Are you okay?” He asked the girl as gently as possible. “Er... Comment allez-vous?”

The girl blinked at him and then giggled, spurring Luna to giggle as well.

“Lue, what were you thinking?” Harry asked as he pulled the two light-weighted girls along with him towards the shore where students were screaming and cheering for him. “Snape said you volunteered. Why on Earth would you do that? Are you okay?!”

“Because I knew you’d save me,” Luna said airily. “I’m fine, I wasn’t worried Harry, you always save me.”

“You could have died,” Harry grumbled, his face red at Luna’s assurance in his abilities.

“Of course I wouldn’t have,” Luna laughed. “As if you would have let me die.”

Harry shook his head and focused his diminishing energy on gently pulling along Fleur’s sister, who absolutely could not swim.

“GABRIELLE!” Fleur screamed once Harry, Luna, and, apparently, Gabrielle neared the dock. “YOU SAVED ‘ER ‘ARRY!”

“What happened to you?!” Harry demanded as he helped Gabrielle and Luna climb up on the dock. “I’m not past an hour, am I?”

“Non,” Fleur shook her head as she smother Gabrielle in a hug. “You are ze first ‘Arry. I ‘ad to be rescued by Meester ‘Agrid. Ze grindylows pulled me into ze seaweed. I zought I was a goner.”

Harry carefully withheld a scoff as Luna extended a hand and pulled him on the dock. Some ally for this task Fleur wound up being. She was lucky Harry made it, or Luna and her sister would still be down there.

“Harry!”

Harry looked up from where he was laying on the dock, cold and panting from all the swimming and work he had done.

His friends were running towards him, closely followed by Snape and Sirius.

“You were back first!” Susan yelled, leaning down to wrap Harry in a tight hug. “And you saved two people! Why do you have a spear?! You idiot!”

“How am I an idiot?” Harry demanded. “How long was I gone anyway?”

“Thirty nine minutes and seventeen seconds,” Snape said in a tight voice. “Come, let Poppy examine you, and Miss Lovegood, and...” Snape trailed off and gave Gabrielle a curious look. “And the child who I assume is your sister?” he asked Fleur.

“Oui,” Fleur said in a tearful voice. “Gabrielle. Your ‘Arry saved her.”

“He’s quite the hero,” Fred said, leaning down to help Harry to his feet. “Bit of a Gryffindor there Darlin’.”

“Ta,” Harry murmured, letting Fred wrap a supporting arm around his waist while he grabbed Luna’s hand tightly with his empty one.

“There’s Diggory!” Theo cried.

The group all turned and saw Cedric Diggory, who had a bubble around his head, dragging Cho Chang to the shore with him.

“You saved Fleur’s sister but not our classmate?” Neville asked.

“I didn’t make a deal with Diggory, did I?” Harry said. “Didn’t save Katie Bell either.”

“Talk later, Poppy now,” Sirius said. “C’mon, you’re shaking Pup.”

Harry glanced down at his hand curiously and saw that his arms were shaking hard enough to shake his spear.

“I don’t feel cold,” he said.

“Adrenaline crash along with the physical exertion it must have taken to swim to the bottom of the lake and drag two additional children back up with you,” Snape said. He led Harry’s group, along with a tearful Fleur and Gabrielle, to a set of benches where Madame Pomfrey was waiting with her hands on her hips.

“Pepper-Ups for all three of you!” she said as she immediately wrapped Luna and Gabrielle in blankets. “This tournament is a death trap! The Black Lake, in February, really?! Whose bright idea was it to give our children hypothermia?!”

“Ma’am I’m sure it was Dumbledore’s idea,” Susan said sweetly.

Snape scoffed and handed Harry a red potion. Harry waited until he saw Luna take hers before taking his.

“You swear you’re okay?” he whispered to her.

Luna reached over and grasped his hand again.

“I’m fine, I swear,” she said earnestly. “You were amazing Harry.”

Harry blushed, probably a side effect of the potion, and slumped down on the bench.

Snape, in what might have been the weirdest thing to ever happen to Harry, grabbed a blanket from a stack by Madame Pomfrey and carefully wrapped it around Harry.

“He was panicking the whole time,” Draco whispered with a sly grin. “He kept pacing on the dock and checking his timer.”

“Totally safe, huh?” Harry scoffed up at Snape and shook the spear threateningly near his face. “Then why’d Fleur get attacked? And the merfolk tried to fight me when I got Gabrielle!”

“You fought ze mermen to save my Gabrielle?” Fleur asked, before flinging herself at Harry and sobbing on his shoulder. “‘Ow can I ever repay you ‘Arry??”

Harry was about to suggest a no questions asked favor, but Snape tapped him on his Fleur-free shoulder and shook his head. Apparently, accurately, guessing at Harry’s exact thoughts.

“It’s fine,” Harry said, uncomfortable with Fleur’s very noisy emotions. “You would have saved Lue if it had been reversed, yeah?”

“But I did not! And you did! You are magnifique ‘Arry Potter!”

Harry sent a pleading look to his friends, but they all just smirked or giggled at him.

Bastards.

Harry very awkwardly patted Fleur on the shoulder as Diggory and Chang were brought to the group and given potions and blankets as well.

“What was your time?” Diggory asked Harry as he shook off some of the water dripping on him.

“Thirty nine minutes,” Sirius answered with a proud look towards Harry. “And he rescued two hostages.”

“Show off,” Diggory said with a small grin.

Once Fleur finally finished crying all over him, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered a promise to ‘one day find a way to repay him’.

Which, Harry figured, was as good as a favor as he was apparently going to get.

They all sat in a comfortable silence occasionally broken by Gabrielle’s fluid French being spoken to Fleur, or one of Harry’s friends murmuring something, until Viktor finished up.

“He’s late,” Ron said. “Hour was up when Diggory came back.”

“Sucks to be him,” Blaise quipped, eyeing Fleur with heavy interest.

“He’s got Katie,” Fred said nervously. “You don’t think anything happened to them, do you?”

Harry shrugged and sipped the hot chocolate Lupin brought everyone. He actually hadn’t really considered if Fred would be upset if he didn’t rescue Katie, but it’s not like he could have drug all four hostages up anyway.

Fleur’s lucky he got Gabrielle.

Harry watched Luna carefully while they waited for Viktor and felt relieved that she didn’t look any worse for wear.

“Were you scared?” Neville asked her.

“Oh no,” Luna smiled in Harry’s direction brightly. “I knew Harry would save me.”

Harry was saved having to find something to say to that with the arrival of Viktor and Katie Bell.

“Our last champion has arrived!” Bagman’s magically amplified voice yelled.

“Oh shit. Can someone go get my robes?” Harry hissed with a pointed look at Susan. “There’s something important in there.”

“I’m on it,” Ron offered. “Over on the dock?”

“Yeah.”

Harry watched Ron jog towards his robes as Bagman announced that the judges were going to talk with the merfolk about ‘what happened down in the lake’.

As if it weren’t bloody obvious.

Ron had just handed Harry his robes, who promptly slid the bag of gold to Fred, when Bagman’s voice boomed again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands.

“I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her head and smiling softly at Harry. “You are ze ‘ero ’Arry.”

“My ‘ero,” Fred whispered beside him with a wink.

“Viktor Krum, ten minutes outside the allotted hour, used an incomplete form of Transfiguration,” Bagman called, “which was nevertheless effective, and was the third champion to return with his hostage. We award him thirty five points.”

Harry’s friends all clapped politely for Viktor, but Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was the second to return with his hostage, though he returned fifteen seconds outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindor’s in the crowd. “We therefore award him forty points.”

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned first, using only a little over half of the hour. AND, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was determined to duel over the safety of the two youngest hostages. Despite Gabrielle Delacour belonging to Fleur Delacour, Mr Potter refused to leave without her!”

Harry’s friends chuckled and he felt his face heat up again. Trust Bagman to twist an awesome moment when Harry stabbed a chief merman with a throwing star, and stole his weapon, and make it sound so pathetically lame.

“Pride, Harry,” Snape leaned down and whispered. “You should be incredibly proud of yourself, as I am of you. Show that pride to them.”

Harry sat up at that and gave Snape an appreciative nod. He should be proud. He was the youngest champion and saved two hostages in almost half the time the other champions took to save one. Did anyone else cut open a chief mermaid today with a metal star and get a brill new spear? Probably not.

“Mister Potter’s actions, timeliness, and outstanding moral fiber have led the judges to award him... FIFTY POINTS!”

“YOU WON!” Susan screamed over the ear splitting applause and yells from the stands. “YOU WON YOU CRAZY IDIOT!”

Harry could feel his cheeks aching from how hard he was beaming. After all his worries, all his anxiety, all his fears...

He won!

He was in first place by a solid thirteen point lead!

Harry’s image of raising the tournament trophy high above his head in front of a cheering crowd was so close he could almost hear Dumbledore having to announce him as the strongest, the best, the most powerful champion.

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” Bagman yelled over the still cheering crowds. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

Three months.

Harry had three whole months until he had to start worrying about what the last task was.

And- he was in first.

He was so pleased that he didn’t even mind when his friends buried him in a many armed tangled hug, and when Dumbledore caught his eye and had the audacity to smile at him- Harry decided that even despite the vow he’d made, he didn’t need to kill him for what he did to Luna.

Today.

He didn’t want to just curse Dumbledore to an easy death and be done with it. He’d draw it out. For at least thirty nine minutes and seventeen seconds. Maybe he’d Crucio him while he cut off his fingers one by one as he listed all the reasons Dumbledore had this coming... He’d be sure to add putting a defenseless thirteen year old girl in the bottom of a lake, surrounded by feral merfolk with spears, on the list of sins Dumbledore had committed when that day came.

But for now...

“Party in the Slytherin common room!” Fred shouted. “Everyone’s invited!”

For now he’d party with his friends.

Chapter Text

In the weeks that followed the second task, Harry felt a distinct loss of excitement in his life.

The third task was ages away.

Classes were so pointless now that he’d even taken up skipping History of Magic altogether.

His brain felt as if it had a steady low thrum of heaviness to it.

Everything was just dull. Dim. Dreadful.

Except Not-Moody.

Not-Moody was still the most interesting thing within the castle, and Harry was determined to break the man’s secret wide open.

When Percy had shown up as a judge at the second task, instead of Mister Crouch, Harry had worried that he had it wrong and that Not-Moody was really Crouch Senior. So, he did what anyone in his position with his connections would do, and contacted Rita Skeeter to look in to it.

And she had. Except she’d taken her bloody sweet time.

Three weeks after he’d paid her to look in to Crouch Senior, he finally received a letter from her.

Harry,
I’ve watched Crouch very closely the last couple of weeks. He hasn’t been showing up for work, which his coworkers state is absolutely unlike him. Apparently the man’s a raging workaholic. I thought he was just hiding out at home, hiding from his bosses who aren’t happy with him, but his coworkers say he’s ‘been ill’. He’s been letting one of the Weasley boys, Pucey, carry on in his absence. Pucey told someone that Crouch was sending daily instructions from his home. So that’s where I went next. And oh my Merlin, you won’t believe it! Crouch is home, and he looks terrible, AND he has someone living with him! I didn’t get a real good eyeful of him, but it’s definitely a him! So- I think Old Crouch is sick and having his secret lover nurse him to health while he recovers! OR the secret lover is the one making him sick!
As we discussed, I’ll keep this to myself for now. Instead I’ll do a charming little drama piece to generate readers. Let me know if you’d prefer that I say you’re in a scandalous love triangle with your hostage from the second task or the French champion.
Kisses,
Rita

Harry had smiled with grim satisfaction when he received and read Rita’s letter. His theory had to be right. There was no way that Crouch Senior could be at home, sick, and Polyjuiced as Moody at Hogwarts as a teacher. He didn’t even mind the ‘love triangle’ article bit that Rita dreamed up, he had said she could write a scandalous article about him if she found anything good about Crouch and kept it between the two of them. It was an acceptable arrangement- Skeeter would still get a good article, and he could get solid information on Crouch Senior.

He did add the stipulation that her article not have any slander about him in it, he didn’t want to muck up his chances at becoming Minister one day because of something she wrote when he was fourteen. He wrote her back immediately and said that she could use the love triangle bit with whoever she preferred, as long as she didn’t make it sound like he was cheating on Fred.

And she didn’t.

“The Boy Who Loves?” Hermione laughed when his friends read the next days paper. Harry barely glanced up long enough to see a candid photo of Fleur and him after the second task. It looked like they were hugging, but Harry knew that it was when she had actually been crying on his shoulder.

He shuddered at the uncomfortable memory.

“‘Harry Potter is a boy like none other. A powerful wizard, a brilliant student, and the would-be-suitor to many hopeful students’,” Theo read the article out loud over Hermione’s shoulder. “‘Despite his long-term relationship with Frederick Weasley, see page 3 for a timeline of their love story, it seems as if someone else has set their sights on Britain’s beloved hero. This person is none other than the powerful Veela daughter of the French Ambassador for Magic, Flower Delacour, the Triwizard champion for Beauxbatons School of Magic’.”

“Oh she’s going to be furious,” Fred chuckled, interrupting Theo’s reading. “Imagine her not winning your heart and having her name mispronounced in the paper again!”

Harry shrugged and drank his coffee.

“Doesn’t say I’m cheating on Fred though, right?” he checked.

“Nope, just says that you’ve got people desperately falling in love with you left and right,” Theo said with a small grin. “Poor, adorable, lovable Harry.”

“Pains of fame,” Harry quipped, quite liking the phrase Ron had once used to describe his life.

“Fleur might not like this Harry,” Blaise said with his dark brows raised high. “Makes her sound a bit petty and jealous.”

“You know, like Fred,” Draco smirked.

Harry and Fred both threw toast at him for that.

Surprisingly, it took until dinner that evening for Fleur to catch up to him.

“‘Arry,” she smiled warmly when she walked up to their group at the Slytherin table. “‘Ave you read ze gossip?”

“I have,” Harry shrugged with a casual ‘what can you do’ kind of look on his face. “Sorry about that.”

He wasn’t really sorry. It was better if it was Fleur than Luna. Plus, Fleur owed him anyway. And this way, she wasn’t even aware that Harry had set it up.

“I regret to eenform you zat I will no longer be compeeting for your love,” Fleur smiled, politely ignoring the gobsmacked looks on Ron, Neville, and Draco’s faces. “I ‘ave decided zat Meester Weasley eez a perfectly suitable partner for you, oui?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “If you change your mind though, I bet you could beat him in a duel.”

“Oi!” Fred cried. “That’s not fair!”

“I will keep zat in mind,” Fleur winked and tossed her hair back. “I also wanted to ask you if you would like to train together for ze next task. We could work on deefensive magic until we know what ze task eez. Perhaps zair eez somezing I can teach you?”

“Perhaps,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. Wanna do it next weekend?”

“Perfect,” Fleur beamed. “And feel free to bring Meester Weasley, he may be incroyablement jealous if not, oui?”

“Oui,” Harry winked charmingly. “We’ll meet you in the entrance hall next Saturday morning then, thanks Fleur.”

Fleur strode away, the eyes of multiple wizards, and a handful of witches, following her until Harry hissed loudly and glared at them all.

She wasn’t a fucking treacle tart. Harry hated the way people’s eyes lingered on her. Fleur was a champion, she was chosen. She was more than just a pretty girl, she was a powerful witch. She might have failed the second task, but Harry would like to see one of these prats face a dragon.

“Well, I can’t win against that,” Fred said with a teasing grin. “If this is the end of us, just know that I’ll go down fighting for you Darlin’.”

“Nah,” Harry shrugged and grinned across the table to Fred. “I suppose I’ll keep you around a bit longer.”

“Such a gentleman,” Fred sighed with a hand over his heart.

Harry chuckled a bit and considered what Fleur thought she would have to teach him.

No offense to her or anything, but she hadn’t even gotten past the grindylows in the lake. He doubted that Fleur could teach him anything, but it would be a good time to try and officially add her to his gang.

To Harry’s never ending surprise; Fleur actually did have something brilliant to teach him.

“We can duel in ‘ere?” she asked next Saturday morning when Harry led her Fred, and Viktor, who found them during breakfast and asked if he could join as well, to Snape’s empty classroom.

“Probably,” Harry said. “Snape let me before.”

He hadn’t asked him; but he doubted if he would mind either.

“Vairy well,” Fleur smiled at him and tied her long hair back in a low bun. “What do you know of dueling?”

“Quite a bit,” Harry smirked. “Wanna see?”

“Oui,” Fleur said. “You and Meester Weasley. I can see better eef I am watching.”

“‘Kay,” Harry turned an innocent smile to Fred.

“I should have just let Fleur have you,” Fred sighed.

“You are scared of Harry?” Viktor asked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Brave lion.”

Harry laughed, both at Viktor finally understanding the Hogwarts house traits and at him mocking Fred when he’d never even seen him duel before.

“Fred’s a genius, I’m just better,” Harry said, clearing the desks away with a small flick of his hand. “Ready daaaaarling?” he drawled to Fred.

“As I’ll ever be Sugar,” Fred said with an easy smile as he took his place across from Harry. “Try not to mess up my pretty face this time.”

“Oh, was that you I cut in second year?” Harry asked. “Whoops.”

Fred shook his head, but pulled his wand out and took a loose dueling stance.

“Bow,” Fleur said as she erected a shield around herself and Viktor.

Fred did some dramatic loopy bow, but Harry just ticked his head in an imitation of one. He knew this was just for sport, but he’d never bow to anyone.

“Beegin!”

Fred immediately went on the defensive as Harry lazily tossed spells towards him.

”Protego!” Fred cried, putting a shield between them. “No Unforgiveables Harry!”

“We’ll see,” Harry laughed. He wouldn’t hurt Fred like that, not if he didn’t need to.

And he didn’t need to.

Harry kept up a stream of spells steadily enough to keep Fred from firing back, but not so quick to end the duel. He could finally feel himself waking up from the dull haze he’d been in as he tracked Fred’s constant movements.

After a few minutes though, he was bored.

Levitate him, upside down, he ordered his magic with a hard enough tug to send Fred ten feet in the air. And his wand please.

Fleur and Viktor both clapped when Harry caught Fred’s wand.

“Brava!” Fleur cried. “You are a natural ‘Arry!”

“Ta,” Harry murmured, walking slowly up to Fred with a small grin on his face.

“What are you doin?” he called up to him.

“Hanging around,” Fred called back down, his voice warm and good natured considering his position.

Harry let out a laugh and then released him.

“You could have caught me,” Fred grumbled as he rubbed his head from where it struck the floor.

“Could have,” Harry agreed, offering Fred a hand up from the floor.

“You use spells, you are quick and powerful, but you use no elements?” Fleur asked Harry after Fred got to his feet.

“Elements?” Harry cocked his head to the side and thought carefully what she meant. “Like wind and stuff? I’ve used lightning before, does that count?”

“Oui,” Fleur nodded. “But zair eez one element zat eez most powerful in a fight: fire.”

Harry’s eyes must have lit up with the reminder of the beauty of Nott Manor burning from the fiendfyre because Fleur suddenly smiled sharply.

“Oui, ‘Arry. We will duel now.”

Harry moved back to his position and watched Fleur carefully as Viktor put up a shield around himself and Fred.

“Bow to each other,” Viktor grunted.

Fleur ticked her head proudly in the same manner Harry did. Which he could respect. Fleur was stronger than people gave her credit for.

“If I win, I want us to be official allies,” Harry offered.

“We shall see,” Fleur said, her smile suddenly mischievous. “You are vairy confeedent.”

“Oui,” Harry smiled. “It’s well-earned.”

“We shall see,” Fleur repeated, taking a graceful dueling pose.

“Begin,” Viktor said.

And, fuck.

Fleur was fast.

Harry was suddenly put in the awkward position of having to immediately take a defensive position. Fleur was throwing spells at him quickly, moving fast enough that it was now obvious that she had Veela heritage.

But Harry was fast too.

He used one hand to dispel and block the incoming, silently spoken, curses and hexes coming from Fleur’s wand, and used his other to begin sending his own spells at her.

He couldn’t be charming right now, he needed to win. So he threw everything he could think of.

Bone breaking curses towards her legs, cutting curses at her arms, even a skin boiling hex that wasn’t quite legal, according to the book Snape gave him and Theo over the summer, towards her face.

And Fleur was dodging them.

“Brill,” Harry laughed, not pausing in his dual offensive and defensive spells. “You’re quick.”

“Veela are more zan simply pretty faces ‘Arry,” Fleur said, keeping up her steady stream of spells while she let her movements block Harry’s curses. “We are warriors as well.”

“Be in my gang,” Harry said, ducking an incoming spell that shattered a shelf behind him. “I need more warriors.”

“You are fighting a war, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked, spinning around away from another bone breaking curse Harry threw towards her chest.

“I will be,” Harry said, laughing outright at the easy and graceful way Fleur moved away from the spells. He wished he was part Veela. “And you’d have a chance to be a part of it.”

“What eef I do not wish to be a part of a war in a country I have no place in?” Fleur asked, increasing her spell fire.

“Who says that when the Dark Lord comes back he won’t try and invade France?” Harry asked. “Then you, your family, everyone you love will be in danger.”

Fleur narrowed her blue eyes at him and Harry had only a split second sense that she was going to change her attack before she did.

“I would kill anyone who tries to ‘urt my family,” she said before throwing fireballs at Harry.

Fucking fireballs.

That she just pulled up from her hands.

The first one caught Harry by surprise and burnt his leg clear through his trousers.

The second pissed him off.

“Fred’s mum made me this jumper,” he snarled, forgetting entirely his charming persona he meant to keep up. ”Bleed.”

Harry wasn’t going to let her dodge this one. He hoped Fred and Viktor weren’t in the way, because he sent seven spells towards Fleur, one was guaranteed to hit her, even if the other six destroyed more of Snape’s classroom.

“You cut me!” Fleur gasped, one of Harry’s spells indeed landing on her left hip. Harry took her slight stumble from the impact and immediately pulled on his magic, throwing her wand to the side of the room.

“Give up?” he asked her.

“Never,” Fleur smiled, and it wasn’t her normal and pretty smile. This one was sharp and mean and every bit a warriors smile.

He liked this one better. It was more real.

Harry smiled back just as sharply as Fleur continued throwing fireballs and dodging spells.

He wanted Fleur in his gang bad. Almost as bad as he wanted Not-Moody.

“Water beats fire,” Harry laughed, swiping one hand down to cause a heavy pouring of water right on Fleur’s body, sizzling out the fireball she had in her hand.

Bind her.

Fleur shrieked when she was suddenly tied up and immobilized.

“I do not give up, but you win,” Fleur said. “You are quite intéressant ‘Arry Potter.”

“I get that a lot,” Harry said, snapping his fingers to release Fleur. “So, allies?”

Fleur studied Harry just as hard as Harry sometimes studied people before she extended her small hand to him.

“Allies,” she said with a bright smile. Harry nodded and shook her hand once before quickly letting go.

“Vat about me?” Viktor grunted from his spot alongside Fred. “Can I not join?”

“Do you want to?” Harry blinked at him. “Your Headmaster is literally a Death Eater.”

“He vill not be my Headmaster after this year,” Viktor said. “And yes. I vish to join you.”

“Brill,” Harry nodded at him. “Two rules if you both want in: I don’t owe favors to anyone, ever. And if you betray the gang then I’ll kill you.”

Viktor looked slightly discomforted by that, but Fleur laughed brightly again.

“Veecious,” she said.

“Is it a deal?” he asked them both.

“Deal,” Fleur agreed immediately.

“Yes,” Viktor grunted about twenty seconds later.

“Go again?” Fleur asked Harry. “You can try ze flames yourself now, oui?”

“Alright then,” Harry got in position and was getting ready to order his magic to draw up little fireballs when the classroom door banged open and Snape stormed in.

The four students froze as they took in Snape’s furious face.

“What have you done?” he hissed at Harry. Harry wasn’t sure what he meant, until he looked around the classroom.

“Er... I’ll fix it,” he immediately offered, not realizing the extent of the damage the dodged spells had been causing. In his defense, usually someone put up a full dome to shield when Harry dueled before. “We were practicing for the third task.”

“Was the task to see who could break the most of my belongings?!” Snape asked.

“Well it hasn’t been announced yet,” Fred said seriously. “So they need to be prepared for every possibility.”

“Go.” Snape pointed towards the opened door. “All of you- go. Immediately.”

Harry followed the other three quickly moving students, but paused in the doorway.

”Fix it,” he ordered his magic harshly, waving his hand over the room.

He smiled cheekily at Snape once the room was repaired.

“Done,” he said. “See ya.”

Harry ran off quickly before Snape had a chance to retort.

The next couple of weeks, Harry decided that now that he’d recruited two powerful allies, it was time to move ahead with his next plot.

Recruit Not-Moody.

Harry reread Skeeter’s letter multiple times as he drew conclusions in his head and planned on the best way to approach the man.

If Crouch Senior was at home sick, then it had to be Crouch Junior at Hogwarts. And he was the one who, on Halloween night, said someone probably put Harry’s name in the goblet to try and kill him. And it wasn’t like 2 out of the last 3 defense teachers hadn’t tried to kill him. So-

Did Barty put his name in the goblet to try and have the tournament kill him off as a favor for Timmy? Or did Barty know Harry wanted in the tournament and was doing it as a way to get in his good graces?

If he was trying to kill him, why tell him to fly and send him gillyweed (because Lue said she didn’t send it, so Barty was really the only option left for that)? But if he did it to earn a place within Harry’s gang, why not tell Harry he did it? Why the secrets?

The secrets didn’t matter anymore though. Harry was sick of the games and the dancing around each other. Not-Moody kept avoiding him, but he couldn’t forever. And Harry was ready for some answers.

“Professor, could I talk to you?” Harry asked politely at the end of his next defense class, surprised that ‘Moody’ didn’t just dart away like he had been doing recently.

‘Moody’ stared at him for a long moment before he nodded his head curtly, his dark hair flipping with the movement.

“My office then,” he grunted. “Come on lad.”

Harry smirked as he followed ‘Moody’ from the classroom through another door to his office- apparently something was going to be decided one way or another today.

“Have a seat,” ‘Moody’ pointed to a chair, but Harry shook his head. If it was going to be a fight, he wouldn’t start from a seated position.

“I’d rather stand,” Harry said. “Feel free though.”

‘Moody’s’ magic eye seemed to scan Harry from top to bottom, probably checking to see what weapons Harry had on him.

Except...

“Ugh,” he blurted with his nose crinkled. “Can you see through people’s clothes with that thing?”

“What?” ‘Moody’s’ mouth popped open and he stared at Harry, Harry’s face thankfully, with both eyes. “It’s a magic eye Potter, it sees what I want it to see.”

“That’s not an answer,” Harry said with a disgusted look towards him. “There are children in this castle.”

‘Moody’ sat down heavily in his chair and gaped at him for another moment before suddenly letting out a loud and barking laugh.

“You don’t make a damn bit of sense, do you lad? No, I’m not using my eye to see through children’s clothes. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No,” Harry readjusted his bag on his shoulder and made sure his right hand was free to catch the blade he would have to release from its holster if it came down to it.

“I want to know how you escaped Azkaban and faked your death.”

‘Moody’s’ wand hand twitched before the man let out another chuckle. This one sounded rather forced though, and Harry was pleased to know that he had been right about who he was talking to.

“Someone put a confundus charm on you, eh? Constant vigilance Potter. Run off to Madame Pomfrey, she’ll sort you out.”

“Quit lying,” Harry said softly but coolly. “We both know who’s hiding under Alastor Moody’s identity, don’t we Barty?”

‘Moody’ immediately jumped to his feet and brandished his wand, he had it at Harry’s throat really before Harry could even blink.

I’m either recruiting him, or killing him, Harry decided. He was too quick, too smart, to let Timmy keep him.

“Who told you that?” ‘Moody’ growled. “I could kill you now and disappear forever Potter.”

“Or we could be allies,” Harry offered, raising the tone of his voice just loud enough to cover the light snick of his dagger dropping in to his hand. “You think Timmy Riddle has power? You’re wrong,” he murmured. “I have power the Dark Lord knows not, I am the one destined to beat him. Wouldn’t you rather be on my side?”

When ‘Moody’ didn’t say anything for a second, Harry took the opportunity to make a deep, and lasting, gash in the man’s side.

“Don’t ever touch me again though,” Harry said, pushing the surprised man away. “Constant vigilance there Barty, yeah?”

“What do you want?” ‘Moony’ snarled, his free hand pressing down on his bleeding side and his tongue flicking out to wet his lips in what seemed to be a nervous gesture.

A nervous gesture that Harry had never seen before.

Which was interesting.

“To be allies, but if we can’t be allies, then I’m going to have to kill you,” Harry said flatly. “You’re clearly a genius, just like Snape said, but if you’re not with me, you’re against me.” Harry twirled the dagger as he sent a silent locking spell to the office door and windows. “Decide now.”

“What could a little boy with a lucky streak and a small talent for magic have to offer me?” Barty, for it was definitely Barty Crouch Junior, sneered. Harry was relieved he’d dropped Moody’s low growls, the masks were finally being dropped. Though he was quite insulted by the ‘small talent’ remark. Nobody could use magic like Harry could. Nobody.

“The Dark Lord is rising again, back to his full power,” Barty said, “and when he does- I’ll be his most favored, his most cherished-“

“You’ll be the first one I kill,” Harry said calmly as he continued to twirl the dagger. “If you join him, even knowing what all I can do and I can offer you, then you’ll be the first one I kill.”

“HA!” Barty let out a loud laugh, but Harry didn’t miss the way his tongue flicked out to his top lip again. Harry was glad he was nervous, he should be. “You think you could kill me?”

“Full disclosure?” Harry asked, using a phrase he’d heard Theo use before. He leaned forward to the wall Barty had his back to and smiled sharply. “I’ve already killed two of Timmy’s followers, and I promise you’ll be next.” He resumed twirling his dagger as he returned to his casual position. “Unless you join me.”

“Join or die?” Barty asked. “That’s an interesting move from the boy hero of the light side. I wonder if Albus knows what his hero is really like?”

“I wonder if Albus considers me a hero at all,” Harry said lightly. “I dunno about ‘hero of the light side’ either. Dark, light, pureblood, muggleborn, we’re all magic. We’re all special. We all have power. Who cares about that other stuff?”

Barty reached down, and Harry immediately raised his knife in a defensive gesture, but Barty just lifted his hip flask and took a long swig, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face. Harry wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he saw a spark of interest in his normal eye.

“Power is what’s important to you?” Barty asked. “Join me on the Dark Lords side. He’ll see the power in you, the potential. He could teach you things you can’t imagine.”

“He offered that before,” Harry shrugged, his stance irritatingly casual, but his muscles tensed and ready for a fight. “But he killed my parents and ruined my life. He has to die. And I’m going to do it, aren’t I?”

“You won’t,” Barty hissed. “You can’t kill him Potter. You can’t imagine the lengths he’s gone to on his quest to stay immortal. Join him. Join us.”

Harry lifted his hand and let out a fissure of Magic hard enough to shatter a mirror on the wall behind Barty.

“I said no,” he said coolly. “What’s he ever done for you Barty? Huh? Let you go to prison? Let your dad hurt you? He doesn’t care about you. He used you. He’s using you now, isn’t he? I wouldn’t. If you were one of mine, you’d matter. You’d be free Barty.”

Barty didn’t say anything, he just licked his lips again while his magical eye spun to the door.

“Your friend is waiting in the corridor,” he said hoarsely. “Go.”

“I’ll give you a week,” Harry said. “I won’t tell anyone who you are, but you only have a week to decide. Then I’ll kill you. Acceptable?”

Barty’s normal eye flashed with something that was definitely amusement.

“Snape’s kid through and through then, aren’t you?”

Harry lifted one shoulder in a light shrug, seeing another hopeful selling point.

“I don’t belong to anyone, but Snape, your friend, is one of mine,” he said. “You guys could be on the same side again. The right side, the winning side, the free side. Something to think about Professor.”

Harry backed towards the doorway, keeping his face clear of expression, but his eyes trained on Barty’s hands.

Right before he stepped out of the doorway he flicked his wrist and healed the wound on Barty’s side. He didn’t have his magic remove the scar though, it would stay as a reminder of what he could do.

“One week,” he called. “See ya then.”

Harry stepped out in the hall and grinned at Blaise.

Sometimes it was annoying when his friends wouldn’t leave him alone, but he appreciated Blaise’s inherent distrust of defense professors alone with Harry.

“Heard something break in there,” Blaise said lightly as he fell in to step beside Harry.

“Broke a mirror,” Harry said. “Moody’s a tough man to recruit.”

“Library?”

“Sure, let’s do it.”

While his friends studied for the exams in June (“Exams are only six weeks away! This is our last year before OWLS! We need to study now!” Hermione declared shrilly), Harry watched Neville.

Neville who was one of the first people to join his gang.

Neville who he shared a birthday party with.

Neville whose parents were in a hospital for the rest of their lives because of the man Harry wanted to recruit.

“Nev, can we talk?” Harry asked, startling his friends with his abrupt question.

“Sure Harry.” Neville looked a little too relieved to close his potions textbook. “Where to?”

“Suppose you don’t wanna see the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked with a smirk. Last time he took someone down there, Theo in his third year, he’d been convinced Harry was going to kill him.

“Er...” Neville looked nervously towards Ron, who shook his head quickly. “I’d rather not,” he finally said diplomatically.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “My dorm then.”

Neville gathered his things and quietly followed Harry down to the dungeons, and up to the boys dorm. Harry warded the door against eavesdroppers before sitting on his trunk and watching Neville.

“Do you believe in second chances?” Harry asked him after Neville sat on Ron’s trunk and faced him.

Harry didn’t, but Neville was a nice person, so he might.

“Depends,” Neville said thoughtfully. “Depends on what the person did with their first chance, if they regret it or not, and how they’re going to be different the second time.”

Harry nodded, that was a logical thought process.

“If someone hurt you, badly, but they did it because someone else was making them- would you forgive them?”

Neville furrowed his brows down while he seemed to think about the answer.

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “Are you talking about someone following You-Know-Who?”

“Timmy,” Harry corrected his perceptive friend. “And yeah, kinda. Do you think any of them deserve a second chance? A chance to be on the right side? Our side?”

“Some of them, maybe,” Neville said. “But some magic changes people Harry. I know you don’t believe in dark or light magic, and I understand it, but Gran says there are some things that are so dark they change the core of who a person is.”

“Like what?”

“Like... Like Bellatrix Lestrange,” Neville said, all but spitting the name of Cissa’s sister. “Shes killed and tortured so much that her soul is twisted, dark and disgusting, just like her. She’s exactly where she belongs.”

Harry tilted his head and studied him curiously.

“Would you kill her?” he asked. “If she was here right now, would you kill her for what she did?”

“Yes,” Neville said with no hesitation. “If I ever saw her- I’d kill her.”

“And her husband? And Crouch Junior? Would you kill them too?”

“I-“ Neville hesitated. “Yeah, probably.”

“Because they tortured your parents?” Harry prodded.

“Exactly.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully while he tried to think. He didn’t want to lose Neville, but he didn’t want to lose the chance to steal a bloody genius away from Timmy either.

“How do you know who did it though?” Harry asked. “Did they all three confess? Are you sure about who cast what?”

“Why does it matter?!” Neville cried. “Crouch is dead, and the Lestrange’s are in Azkaban. My parents- my parents won’t ever leave the hospital Harry! Why does it matter?”

“Because Timmy’s coming back,” Harry said bluntly. “And lines have to be drawn, don’t they? So I need to know, because you’re mine and I’ll stand back so you can get revenge, which matters more to you- killing the people who tortured your parents, or killing Timmy?”

“Killing Timmy,” Neville said immediately. “But if I can kill a few Death Eaters along the way, then I’ll do that too.”

“Death Eaters,” Harry repeated, finally seeing a loophole in Neville’s airtight logic. “What if they weren’t Death Eaters anymore?”

“I won’t work with Bellatrix,” Neville said, his eyes hard and his jaw firm. “Don’t ask me to Harry.”

“I won’t,” Harry assured him. “We can kill Bellatrix the second we get a chance. Her and Pettigrew both, yeah? But- but say Crouch Junior wasn’t dead, and didn’t want to be a Death Eater anymore, would you work with him?”

“Not if he’s the one who cursed my parents,” Neville said obstinately. “Bellatrix confessed, she bragged about it in court Harry. I’ll probably never know for sure who cast what, but if he cursed my parents then I would kill him too if I could.”

Harry sighed as he stared in Neville’s damn stubborn eyes.

He solved one mystery, only for another to fall in his lap.

He was starting to wonder how Dumbledore and Timmy did this for so long- recruiting people was a pain in the arse.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll try and find out for sure who did what. Er, for your peace of mind,” he added hastily.

“How?” Neville asked him.

Harry just shrugged but got to his feet.

Seemed like it was time to go talk to Snape.

Chapter Text

“Snape? Can I come in?”

Severus looked up from his desk and rolled his once he saw that Potter was already inside his office.

“No,” he quipped.

Potter looked momentarily caught off guard before he recognized Severus’ sarcasm and grinned sheepishly as he moved towards his seat.

“Shame,” he said, “because I need your help.”

Which was a sentence that any time Potter uttered- it meant nothing but chaos for Severus.

“What now?” Severus sighed. “There are still six weeks until the third task, and two before you even find out what it is. What possible chaos could you be causing in the meantime?”

“Hey, I am not causing chaos,” Potter looked offended, which was rich because the child’s given name may as well be ‘Chaos’. “I’m helping Neville. And I need your help to do it.”

“You could evict me from our home and I would still never agree to tutor that dunderhead,” Severus drawled. “Longbottom is a hopeless brewer and I look forward to his sixth year when he is no longer able to take my class.”

“Would you just listen?” Potter asked. “God, I’ve got a headache. It’s been a long day and you’re talking crazy.”

Severus snorted and summoned a pain reliever.

“Drink,” he said. “And tell me about your long day.”

“Wellll, I can’t tell you everything,” Potter said evasively after finishing the potion. “But I do have a question for you. Maybe more than one.”

Severus simply sat back and waited for the oh so important questions Potter had for him.

“Barty Crouch was your friend, yeah?”

Again with Barty Crouch?

Severus truly was beginning to grow concerned over Potter‘s continued obsession with the Crouches.

“He was.”

“Why’d he torture Neville’s parents?”

Severus steepled his hands together and studied his nails as he spoke.

“I believe Bellatrix, in her utter madness, was under the impression that Frank and Alice would have information of the Dark Lord’s downfall,” he said carefully. “As they were high ranking Auror’s at the time, she thought they would know something more than what was being published in the news. Though there was a possibility that the prophecy you have in your possession could have referred to Mister Longbottom as well. I do not believe the Dark Lord shared this with his followers though. If he had, I’m certain that they would have targeted Mister Longbottom himself.”

“Wait-“ Potter blinked owlishly at him, clearly surprised by that bit of information. “Neville could be the one with the power the Dark Lord knows not?!”

“No, ‘the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,’” Severus recited from memory. “I had wondered, before you foolishly played the prophecy for your guests at your thirteenth birthday party, if it was possible Mister Longbottom was the prophesied child. His parents had evaded the Dark Lord thrice, and he was born as the seventh month died. But the Dark Lord had been certain it was you, and he fulfilled the part of the prophecy when he marked you as his equal the night of your parents’ deaths.”

Potter squinted his eyes in a way that Severus was certain could not be healthy for his already poor eyesight as he processed this new information.

“‘But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not’,” Potter said slowly. “So... so it’s definitely me, right? Or... or do you reckon Neville’s hiding some sort of power stronger than I have?”

Severus scoffed at Potter’s never ending arrogance. Tell the child you care for him and he develops a stutter. Have his partner call him attractive and he believes it to be a cruel prank.

But imply that another student could possibly carry more magical power than Potter does? And suddenly he is equal parts defensive and suspicious.

James Potter himself may never have carried such grandiose ideas of self-importance, Severus thought to himself before immediately disagreeing with that statement.

This Potter was actually incredibly important- in many various ways, the least of which being his role in defeating the Dark Lord in Severus’ opinion.

“Mister Longbottom was not marked by the Dark Lord. Rest easy Harry, you are the child with the power the Dark Lord knows not,” Severus said in a dry tone.

“Good,” Potter nodded. “‘Kay, so, back to my problem: Bellatrix was crazy and wanted to torture Nev’s parents for information. But why did Barty go? Is he mad too? Like Bellatrix?”

Severus looked up and frowned at Potter’s intense gaze.

”Was,” he corrected him. “As Barty is quite dead, the correct tense would be was. And no, I do not believe so.”

“Was then,” Potter said with an indecipherable smirk. “So if he wasn’t mad, why would he go? Why torture Neville’s parents?”

“You are placing me in a delicate position here,” Severus said truthfully. “As I was not there, anything I have to say on the matter is pure speculation.”

“Speculate away,” Potter leaned back and waved one hand airily. “You knew him best, yeah? Why do you think he went if he wasn’t mad?”

Severus hummed as he thought Potter’s odd question through. As little as it mattered now, he would attempt to answer honestly.

“Barty, Regulus, and I joined the Death Eaters together,” Severus said, his eyes trained firmly on his own hands. “By the time the Dark Lord fell; I was hidden behind Albus’ protection, and Regulus had already been dead for a year after attempting to flee from the Dark Lord. Barty had to witness his two closest friends turn away from a cause that we had all but convinced him to join. Barty... Barty was not self reliant, not like you and Theodore are. He stood strongest when he was being given orders and guidance, which is not an uncommon reaction to children of chronic abuse. And, my pure speculation, is that with myself and Regulus gone, he was easy prey to the Lestrange’s influence.”

“What do you mean me and Theodore?” Potter asked sharply. “Draco’s self reliant too, why not say Theo and Draco?”

It took Severus a long moment to realize Potter’s sudden irritation.

How could he forget the child’s insistence that he was not a victim of abuse?

“Such as Theodore and Draco then,” Severus said evenly. He could make Potter see the truth another time, for now he wanted to understand Potter’s current obsession with the Death Eaters. Particularly, his obsession with the deceased Barty Crouch.

Potter huffed and crossed his arms, but began his questions again.

“So he was ‘under their influence’, do you think Barty was under the imperious curse when they attacked Nev’s parents?”

“I do not,” Severus said. “I believe Barty simply was a reluctant, but voluntary, participant in his effort to find a new guiding figure in his life.”

“Damn,” Potter mumbled. “So he did curse them then?”

“Hmm,” Severus hummed thoughtfully as he thought back on the brilliant blonde haired young man he had once considered to be one of his closest, and most true, out of his few friends. “I am unsure if Barty was ever able to cast an Unforgiveable. This may come as a surprise to you, but a person has to truly mean it when they cast, and while Barty dedicated himself fully to the Dark Lord, he never relished in causing pain to others.”

“For arguments sake, let’s say that I’m 100% positive that Barty can cast all three unforgivables,” Potter spoke very slowly, as if choosing his words with extreme caution. “Do you think he cast any of the curses that night?”

“I do not know,” Severus snapped, frustrated by Potter’s nonsensical questions and his own inability to decipher Potter’s current scheme. “If you are assisting Mister Longbottom in seeking revenge, I recommend you focus on the ones who definitively cursed his parents and who are still alive.”

“This is such a nightmare,” Potter sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses wearily. “Nobody has the answers I need.”

“Perhaps this is due to the convoluted questions you are asking,” Severus said as evenly as he could, given his own mounting frustration. “Why not explicitly tell me what it is you wish to know?”

“I told you!” Potter cried, slamming his hand on Severus’ desk. “I need to know if Barty cursed Neville’s parents or not!”

“You cannot exonerate a dead man!” Severus said sharply. “Why does this matter so much to you?”

“I can’t tell you,” Potter grit out. “Not yet. But it’s fuckin’ important Snape.”

“I am afraid there is no one who can help you,” Severus told him. “Anyone who would have a definite answer is indefinitely unavailable.”

“Damn it,” Potter moaned, rubbing his eyes once more. Severus watched his ward with concern, why was this so important to Potter that it was causing him to become so visibly stressed?

Severus mentally calculated and reassured himself that it had been seven weeks since Potter first took his potion, and three weeks since his second. Surely this obsessive behavior was not a latent side effect? Perhaps Potter was stressed about the final task and it was manifesting through unsolvable mysteries? Potter did have a penchant for sticking his nose in situations it scarcely belonged.

“Harry, talk to me,” Severus said gently. “You and I have never carried secrets from each other. Will we begin now?”

“No,” Potter said quickly. He looked up at Severus and his eyes were pleading. “It’s not me keeping a secret, not really. I’ll tell you as soon as I can, but I can’t yet.”

Last time Potter had kept another’s secret, and refused to share it with Severus, it ended with the murder of Theodore’s father.

“If someone is requesting you keep a secret from me, does it not occur to you that it is precisely the type of secret I should be aware of?” Severus asked him.

“Probably,” Potter admitted. “But I still can’t tell you. Not yet. I promise I will when I can.”

Severus ground his back teeth together so hard he felt one of them actually chip off.

Trust Potter to cause him to develop both a neurological deficit and a broken tooth.

Being a double agent during the last few months of the war had been less stress than being Harry Potter’s guardian was.

“Do you believe in second chances?”

“Pardon?” Severus had been caught up in a fantasy of the ease of which he will live once Potter graduates and begins his world tour as a professional seeker.

“I said, do you believe in second chances?” Potter asked.

“I suppose it depends on the initial transgression that caused the second chance to be required,” Severus said. “Albus is fond of second chances, I typically am not.”

Which was quite hypocritical of him, considering he was only free of Azkaban for his crimes due to Albus’ fondness of second chances.

“I’m not either,” Potter said with a frown. “But... but I might really need someone to get a second chance. How do I convince someone else to give that person a second chance?”

Severus tried to imagine how this tied to Potter’s questions surrounding Barty. Either this was an entirely new topic of conversation, or Potter wanted to know if one of the three still living Wixen involved in the Longbottom torture was worthy of a second chance.

“You cannot,” Severus told him. “You cannot dictate whether a person has the capacity to forgive another.”

“That’s not helpful either,” Potter snarled.

Severus smiled serenely.

“Neither is you keeping secrets from me, yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Potter agreed with a roll of his eyes.

The two of them stared at each other for a minute as Potter’s thoughts practically whirled behind his eyes.

“Okay, how about this,” Potter said. “If you have two friends, and they don’t get along, yeah? What do you do?”

“Because one friend has wronged the other and you do not believe they will give them a second chance?” Severus guessed shrewdly based on the information Potter has shared thus far.

“Yeah.”

Severus could easily admit that Potter had finally lost him in his efforts to piece together the peculiar questions he was asking. Because Severus could hardly, logically, tie together Potter’s current scheme that somehow involved Death Eaters, Barty Crouch, Bellatrix Lestrange, the Lestrange brothers, Mister Longbottom, second chances, and having two friends not getting along.

Severus thanked Merlin that the three Lestrange’s were all securely still in Azkaban, if not he would fear that Potter was attempting to add one of them to his alliance.

Perhaps the child had simply compiled a list of topics he wished to speak to Severus about, and was unleashing them all now.

Any sentence involving Potter’s intentions or actions and the word ‘simply’, or any variation of the word, is a fools statement.

“Hmm, if you are unwilling to end your relationship with either friend, I would minimize their opportunities to be together and stay out of their conflict,” Severus told him. He had not noticed any of Potter’s group having any disagreements, they all still came together every other Thursday for dueling lessons.

Perhaps Potter was debating on bringing another student in to his gang of misfits?

“And if one friend wants to kill the other?” Potter asked him.

A secluded island, perhaps? Impenetrable and inaccessible to visitors? Severus imagined the perfect getaway once his obligations to Potter were completed.

“Dissuade your acquaintances from committing murder,” Severus said tersely.

“You aren’t helping!” Potter groaned, leaning forward to cradle his head in his hands as he gripped at his hair. “There’s gotta be an answer here somewhere- I know it.”

“What is truly on your mind child?” Severus asked, feeling badly that his ward is so stressed over...

... well, Severus truly had no idea what had his ward stressed so badly. But something was going on with him.

“I’ve already told you,” Potter mumbled, his face still buried in his hands. “It’s not my fault you aren’t listening.”

Severus sighed and counted to ten very slowly...

Twice...

Before speaking again.

“Harry, perhaps we can use plain terms then and I could understand better,” he said calmly. “Which friends of yours are having conflicts?”

“None, yet,” Potter said. “But if I add someone that I really, really, want to be in the gang then Nev is gonna be pissed and Nev was here first.”

“I find it difficult to imagine Mister Longbottom being ‘pissed’ at you,” Severus said. “But if you believe the new friend will cause conflicts within your ‘gang’ then perhaps it would be best to not add them?”

“But they’re brilliant,” Potter said, lowering his hands and looking at Severus earnestly. “A genius Snape. And I want them to be on my side. But...”

“But adding this genius will upset Mister Longbottom,” Severus finished the thought for him. “Loathe as I am to say this, I am unsure that Longbottom would stay mad at you, I believe he is rather loyal to you to the point that he had even formally allied himself to you.”

“Oh he’ll be mad,” Potter said darkly. “He’ll be pissed as hell. Which... which is probably fair. Because this person screwed him over, badly. But his problems don’t have to be mine, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Severus said delicately. “Though I believe Mister Longbottom has proven himself to be a good friend to you, and it would be an incredibly poor way to repay him if you ignored something that caused him significant distress.”

“Yeah...” Potter slumped down in his seat and appeared dejected. “I knew that. I just wish I could find a way to make it work.”

“If anyone can find a solution to an impossible situation, it is you,” Severus told him.

“There’s no good answer here,” Potter said. “Either I add the new guy and Neville hates me, or I don’t add the new guy and I have to kill him instead.”

“Or you do not add the new guy and you leave him alone,” Severus said sternly. “Have we not discussed many times the multiple varied and severe repercussions of murder?”

Potter rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

“You don’t understand,” he said, sounding much like a petulant teenager. “You’ll get it later. But I gotta go think. I’ll talk to you later.”

Severus furrowed his brows as he watched Potter leave the office with his head hung low.

What on Earth was going on with his ward?

***

Severus kept a close eye on Potter in the following days and kept track of his odd behavior.

Potter was becoming obsessed with Mister Longbottom it seemed.

During meals Severus watched as Potter would abruptly turn to Longbottom and ask him something, and whatever Longbottom responded typically caused Potter to either pull at his hair or scowl heavily. The two boys seemed to be at odds more often than not in the two days that followed Potter’s peculiar questions to Severus.

And much as he tried, Severus truly could find no logical explanation for any of it.

Severus began careful research in to obsessive or stress related disorders.

***

Severus,
I thought you may be interested to know that I received a request for the court transcripts of the Lestrange/Crouch trial from 1980 regarding the Longbottom case from your child. He didn’t explain why he needed it- he just submitted an official form that I wouldn’t doubt he had Malfoy draft for him. Or perhaps Miss Granger. I had no legal, ethical, or moral issue with sending along a copy of the official pensieve memory. I did believe you may want to know about it though.
All the luck,
Amelia

***

Abruptly, four days after Potter interrogated Severus, and two days after Amelia sent Potter the memory of the Lestrange/Crouch trial- Potter and Longbottom were no longer at odds.

In fact, they appeared to be closer than ever.

“You shouldn’t get so involved in Harry’s relationships,” Minerva scolded him gently when he discussed it with her during their weekly tea. “If you weren’t a professor here then you would have no ability to become so involved, just like every other parent of these students. Kids quarrel and then they make up, it’s a fact of life. Harry will doubtlessly get in arguments with all of his friends multiple times, but he needs to learn to sort it out himself.”

“Harry is a menace who is unable to understand what it takes to maintain relationships,” Severus said, nodding gratefully as Minerva refilled his glass of bourbon.

“He’s a teenage boy, they’re all emotionally stunted,” Minerva chuckled. “He’ll grow out of it eventually. You did after all.”

Severus grunted in to his drink, an undignified acknowledgment to an accurate reminder of his own difficulties with maintaining friendships.

“Plus I’ve been impressed with Harry’s overall maturity recently,” Minerva said warmly. “Just yesterday he jinxed a student who had been spreading rumors about Miss Delacour.”

“Harry jinxing a student was somehow proof of his maturity?” Severus asked her incredulously. “I was not informed of Harry receiving any detentions.”

“I believe Mister Chessman was saying things quite vile about Miss Delacour’s body,” Minerva said. “Harry jinxed him. And I pretended to not notice that. Instead I saw that his tie was excellently tied that morning and I awarded him thirty points. I think your child may be a budding feminist,” she added with a doting smile.

Severus snorted at that.

“With Bones being his closest friend, I hardly see how he could be anything but,” Severus said, shaking his head at the ease of which Potter charms others. “Though he is quite fond of Lovegood, Granger, and Delacour as well.”

“Here’s to indiscriminate feminism then,” Minerva chucked and raised her glass to Severus.

Severus chuckled and clinked his glass to hers.

Minerva had a well-appreciated ability to see the best in the students...

Now that she no longer believed Potter to be a future Dark Lord anyway.

***

A week after Potter first asked his inane questions- the child returned to his office shortly after curfew with nothing less than a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“I figured it all out,” he declared with his chest puffed out with pride.